Page 128 of Texas Glory
“Put out the fire.”
She brushed her lips along his ear. “There is no fire. You have a fever and your back … your back is a mess.”
He thought he felt rain falling along his cheek, soft gentle rain. Then he thought nothing at all as the pain carried him under to the darkest recesses of hell.
Cordelia carefully wiped her tears from Dallas’s face, then swiped them from her own. “Is he going to live?”
“Hell, if I know,” Dr. Freeman answered, the frustration evident in his voice. “He’s lost a lot of blood, he’s fighting infection, and there’s not a whole hell of a lot left for me to sew up.” He turned his wizened gaze her way. “But then he’s a fighter. Always has been so I reckon he’ll fight this, too.”
He went back to work and Cordelia averted her gaze from the sight of Dallas’s ravaged back. A gentle hand closed over her shoulder.
“I fed and bathed Rawley. He’s sleeping now. Let me take care of you,” Amelia said.
Cordelia shook her head. “Not until Dallas’s fever breaks.” “That could be a while.” “I know.”
After Dr. Freeman left, she stayed by Dallas’s side, wiping the sweat from his brow, his throat, rubbing ointment over his chaffed wrists, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface every time she gazed at his back.
He was so undeserving of the suffering. Even unconscious, his jaw remained clenched, his brow furrowed, his fists balled around the sheets. His body jerked from time to time. He moaned low in his throat, the sound like the bawl of a lonesome calf lost on the prairie.
It was late afternoon before footsteps thundered up the stairs. She came to her feet as Austin and Houston stormed into the room, the sheriff in their wake.
“How is he?” Houston asked as he ran his gaze over his brother’s back.
“Fighting. Did you find the men—”
“We found them,” Austin said as he slung himself into a chair beside the bed.
She looked at the sheriff. He seemed ill at ease standing in the room, holding his hat in his hand. “Did you arrest them?”
“No, ma’am. They’re dead.”
Cordelia stumbled back. “Dead?”
“Yes, ma’am. Somebody got to them before we did. Looks like whoever it was slit their throats while they were sleeping.”
Cordelia slammed her eyes closed. “Then you have no way of knowing which of my brothers paid them to kill Dallas.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Boyd,” Austin said.
“Why Boyd?” Sheriff Larkin asked. “Because he’s the oldest? Because he shot you? I gotta have a better reason than that to arrest a man.”
Austin bolted to his feet. “I can give you a good reason to arrest him.”
Houston harshly cleared his throat. Austin dropped his gaze. “Dallas wouldn’t want you to arrest him anyway. He takes care of his own problems.”
Houston stepped between Austin and the sheriff. “We’re all tired and bickering among ourselves isn’t going to help anything.”
Sheriff Larkin settled his hat into place. “Let me know when Dallas is up to talking. Maybe he knows something else.” He pointed his finger at Austin. “Don’t go breaking the law thinking it’ll even things out. Two men breaking the law is just two men breaking the law.”
“I ain’t gonna break the law, but I’m not going to let them get away with it either.”
Cordelia put her hand on Austin’s arm to restrain him. “I’ll handle this.” She shifted her gaze to the sheriff. “Thank you, Sheriff. If we should gather any other information, we’ll let you know.”
“You do that, ma’am. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
He walked from the room. Cordelia turned to Austin. “What were you going to say before Houston stopped you?”
