Page 111 of Texas Glory
He shook his bowed head, but she could see him peering beneath his lashes at the tree.
Austin dropped to his knees and reached for a gift. “All right, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He turned the wrapped box over and over, frowning. “Mmmm … oh, wait, I see it.” He smiled broadly. “Maggie May.”
She clapped, took the gift, and shuffled her bottom over the floor.
Austin reached for another box and lifted a brow. “Maggie May.”
Maggie had six gifts beside her before Austin furrowed his brow and glared at her. “How come you’re gettin’ all the presents?”
She smiled brightly. “I was too good.” She glanced over her shoulder at Rawley. “Wasn’t you good?”
Cordelia felt Rawley’s hand flinch within hers and saw his jaw tighten. “He was very good,” she said in his defense, wishing she’d been well enough to travel to town to purchase him a gift, wondering what she might have in her room that she could give him.
“Well, I reckon he was,” Austin said. “Lookee—here. This one’s for Rawley.” He handed the gift to Maggie. “Run it over to him, Maggie May.”
Maggie popped up and brought Rawley the gift. She held it out to him, but he only stared at the small oblong box.
“Don’t you want it?” Maggie asked.
“I’ll take it,” Cordelia said and set the gift at his feet. She read the tag, grateful to Austin for remembering the child.
“I’ll be darned,” Austin said. “Rawley again.”
“Oh!” Maggie cried as she took the large flat gift from Austin and ran it back to Rawley.
“And here’s one for me,” Austin said as he started to untie the ribbon that held the paper in place.
Maggie screeched and grabbed his hand, her brow deeply furrowed. “Gotta wait.”
“Then let’s get the rest passed out fast.”
She helped him, laying presents at the grown-ups’ feet. Cordelia looked at her two gifts. One from Austin. One from Houston and Amelia. She had lost her enthusiasm for the season when she’d lost her child, but judging by the number of gifts appearing, she assumed Dallas hadn’t. Watching him as he stood apart from the gathering, she thought she could tell when a gift from him was handed off to someone. A warmth touched his eyes, as though he were pleased that he could give abundantly to those he loved.
Yet she received no gift from him.
“What in the heck is this?” Austin asked as he pulled a large wrapped box from behind the tree. Maggie’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a large circle. “Goodness gracious, it’s for Rawley,” Austin said. “Help me shove it over to him, Maggie May.”
They both made a great show of pushing the package across the room. When they stopped, Maggie planted her hands on the box and leaned toward Rawley, tipping her head back. “You musta been gooder than me.”
Austin clasped his hands together. “That’s it. Let’s see what we got.”
Austin hurried across the room and began to tear into his presents as though he were the same age as Maggie.
Cordelia heard quiet footsteps and glanced up. Dallas stood before her, holding a small wrapped box with a tiny red bow on it.
“It’s just a little something,” he said. “I was afraid it might get lost under the tree.”
With trembling fingers, she took the gift, carefully untied the red ribbon, peeled back the paper, and opened the box. A heart-shaped locket was nestled between cotton. Tiny flowers had been engraved over the gold. Tears burned the back of her throat as she looked up at Dallas. “I … I didn’t get anything for you,” she whispered.
“Under the circumstances, I didn’t expect you to.” He crouched in front of Rawley. “You gonna open your presents?”
Rawley stared at Mr. Leigh, and then dropped his gaze to the wrapped boxes, trying to believe they were really for him, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to leave them as they were, carefully wrapped with his name on them, the only true gifts he’d ever received in his life.
“I always start with the smallest,” Mr. Leigh said as he picked up the first gift Rawley had received and held it toward him.
Rawley’s mouth went dry. He had to confess first. They’d take the presents away, but he had to tell Mr. Leigh the truth. “I wasn’t good.”
Mr. Leigh rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his black mustache. Rawley had figured out that he did that when he was thinking hard.
