Page 108 of Texas Glory
“Nope, but I want to talk to you about your son.”
“Rawley?” His lips spread into a distorted grin. “You don’t hardly look the type to be interested in Rawley, but then what a man is on the inside don’t always show on the outside.” He leaned closer and his rancid breath billowed out like a cloud of dust.
“Five dollars for twenty minutes. Twenty dollars you can have him all night.”
Dallas had hoped, prayed, that Dr. Freeman had been wrong. He made no attempt to keep the loathing out of his voice. “Can we discuss this outside?”
Cooper sneered. “Sure. You don’t want people knowing your pleasures. I can respect that. Know how to keep my mouth shut, too.”
He staggered out of the saloon. Dallas found him beside the building. A lantern hanging from a pole sent a pale glow over the man as he held out his hand.
Dallas had never hit a man. He’d never used anything but his voice to make a man listen and obey, to make a man squirm when necessary, to make a man regret he’d chosen differently.
But tonight, his voice just didn’t seem to be enough. He brought his arm back and slammed his knotted fist into Cooper’s nose.
Cooper squealed like a wild hog and reeled back, blood spurting through his fingers as he covered his face. He hit the ground and cursed as he staggered to his knees.
Dallas waited until Cooper was again on his feet before burying his fist in the man’s paunchy gut. When Cooper bent over with a grunt, Dallas drove his fist into the man’s chin.
He heard the satisfying sound of bone cracking. Cooper landed flat on his back, moaning and crying. “Don’t hit me! Don’t hit me again!”
Dallas crouched beside the pitiful excuse for a father, grabbed his shirt, and jerked him upright. Cooper cried out. “No more!”
Dallas glared at the bloody carnage. “Stay the hell away from Rawley or the next time I’ll use my gun.”
“He’s my boy!”
“Not anymore,” Dallas said as he shoved the man back to the ground. “Not anymore.”
Dallas watched as Rawley shoveled the eggs and biscuits into his mouth. It had taken Dallas ten minutes to convince the boy the food was for him, that he was being given another meal.
Once convinced, Rawley had plowed through a plate of eggs and four biscuits, as though afraid the offer would be rescinded. Dallas had little doubt the boy had been offered a lot in his life that was quickly taken back.
Dallas planted his elbows on the table and slowly sipped the black coffee from his cup. That morning, when he’d taken Dee her breakfast, he had told her that the boy was going to be staying.
“I want him to stay, Dallas, but we can’t go about deciding what’s best for people. Rawley might have been happy where he was. I don’t think he was, but you can’t take him away from it without knowing.”
She was right, of course. Dallas had taken her away from her home without knowing—or caring—if she wanted to leave. He seemed to have a habit of deciding what people should do with their lives. Asking never entered his head.
When Rawley had shoved the last bite of biscuit into his mouth and downed his glass of milk, Dallas set his cup aside. He glanced at Austin before shifting his gaze to Rawley. “Rawley, I have an offer for you.”
Distrust plunged into the boy’s eyes, and he looked like he might bring up his breakfast.
“I need a helper,” Dallas hastily added.
Rawley furrowed his brow. “A helper?”
“Yep. I’ve got a big ranch, a lot of responsibilities. Sometimes, I don’t have time to do everything. I need someone who can help me take care of things.”
“Like what?” he asked.
Dallas’s stomach knotted. A boy Rawley’s age shouldn’t know enough about life to have suspicion marking his gaze.
“Take care of the damn prairie dog, for one thing.”
“I’m good at that.”
“I know you are. I also need someone who can oil my saddle, brush my horse, someone to keep my wife company while I’m checking on the ranch. For your trouble, you get to sleep in that room upstairs, eat all the food your belly will hold, and you get a dollar a week.”
