Page 121 of Texas Glory
I am Mr. Cooper’s prisoner. You got until noon tomorrow to bring $1,000.00 to the dried well on the north end of your ranch. Wait there alone, without any guns or knives.
I ain’t hurt, but if you don’t follow his orders, he’ll kill me.
Mrs. Leigh
Cordelia glared at her captor. He snatched the paper from beneath her hands and held it toward the light of the lantern. “Good, good, you wrote just what I said.”
She wondered if he could read, if he did indeed know that she had written his words exactly as he’d spoken them. She wished she hadn’t written them at all.
She glanced at Rawley, her sole reason for doing as Cooper instructed.
Within the shed, he sat on a wooden crate. Unmoving. His hands folded in his lap, a grown-up posture out of place on a little boy. He seemed to be staring at the flame quivering in the lantern, only the flame, nothing else … as though he wished there were nothing else.
As though staring at the lantern, holding himself perfectly still, would make the gun pressed against his temple go away.
“Well?” the man holding the gun asked.
Rawley’s father nodded. “Go ahead.”
Before Cordelia could react, the man pulled the trigger. She screamed as a resounding click echoed around the room.
Rawley’s father laughed. “You lucked out again, Rawley.”
He drew his hand back and slapped Rawley across the face. Rawley staggered off the box and hit the floor.
“No!” Cordelia cried as she hurried to the corner and took Rawley into her arms. He was shaking as though he’d been dunked into an icy river.
“He didn’t feel it,” his father cackled. “He’s tetched in the head; goes someplace far away. He ain’t smart like me.” He pointed to his temple. “Now, me, I’m a thinkin’ man. Always thinkin’.” He knelt and brought his abhorrent body odor with him. “Know what I’m thinkin’?”
Cordelia gathered her strength around her as she tucked Rawley more closely against her. “It doesn’t matter what you’re thinking.”
“He’ll come, and when he does I’ll kill him.”
“Why? You’ll have the money—”
“I told you I’m a thinkin’ man. Your brother paid me to kill him, but I’m thinkin’—Dallas Leigh ain’t gonna be an easy man to kill. He’ll fight.
“Then I get to thinkin’, Dallas Leigh thinks he’s smart. Thinks I’m dumb. So I think to myself, I’ll kidnap his wife. Make him bring me money. Then I’ll kill him. I get money from him. I get money from your brother.”
“Dallas won’t come. He’s not a man to trade something for nothing. He wants a son which I can’t give him. With my death, he will gain an opportunity to marry a woman who can give him a son.”
Rawley’s father stood. “You’d better pray he does come ’cuz if he don’t come”—he raked his gaze over her body and Cordelia forced herself not to shudder—“I know lots of men what would pay to spend time with you, just like they paid me to spend time with that boy’s ma.”
“That boy? You mean Rawley? You sold your wife—”
“She weren’t my wife. She was a squaw I found.” He tapped his temple. “Told you I’m a thinkin’ man. Took her in, made a lot of money off her till she died. Give her boy my name, but I don’t imagine I’m his pa. He ain’t nearly as good-looking as I used to be. And you’ll be better than she was ’cuz I won’t have to worry about you leaving me any worthless brats.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Dallas stared through the window of his office as darkness settled around him … along with the loneliness. He’d never before experienced loneliness, perhaps because he’d never understood companionship: the comfort of knowing someone was willing to listen to his thoughts, the joy of sharing something as simple as watching the stars appear within the velvety sky.
He wanted Dee to be in his office now, curled up in her chair discussing her ideas, her plans. But she hadn’t come to his office since she’d had the confrontation with Boyd.
He crumpled the note she’d left him on the dining-room table.
Rawley and I have gone on a picnic.
