Page 132 of Texas Glory
“You got blood on your shirt,” Sheriff Larkin pointed out.
Austin glanced down and touched his fingers to the slender trail of blood that ran along the side of his shirt. He looked up and met the sheriff’s gaze. “Must have scratched myself.”
“You got somebody that can vouch for your whereabouts last night?” Sheriff Larkin asked.
Austin took a step back, his gaze darting between Cordelia and Sheriff Larkin. “What in the hell is going on?”
Sheriff Larkin blew out a big gust of air. “Mrs. Leigh, I didn’t want to break the news to you like this, but Boyd was murdered last night. We found him out on the prairie. Gut shot.”
Cordelia staggered back and wrapped her arms around the beam. She’d been angry at him, quite possibly had come to hate him, but she hadn’t wanted that for him. No one deserved that slow agonizing death. “Who do you—” Her heart slammed against her ribs as Sheriff Larkin turned his full attention on Austin.
“Now, then, boy, you got someone who can swear you were with them last night?”
Austin looked at Cordelia, a silent appeal for forgiveness in his eyes, before he quietly spoke. “No.”
“That’s too bad,” Sheriff Larkin said as he stepped off the porch, jangling the manacles. “Because Boyd wrote your name in the dirt before he died.”
While Dallas’s fever raged, Cordelia constantly rained cool water over his body and worried about Austin.
A circuit judge had arrived that morning, and he saw no point in putting off the inevitable until Dallas had recovered. “Dee?”
She moved up at the sound of Dallas’s raspy voice and laid her hand over his where it was tied to the bedpost. They had been forced to bind him, spread-eagle, to stop his thrashing at the height of his delirium.
She brushed her lips over his fevered brow, his eyes glazed with pain. “You have … to get away,” he rasped. “No, we’re safe now. We’re home.” “Home?”
She laid her cheek against his bristly one. “Yes, we’re home.” “Bury me beside our son.”
The rage exploded through her. “You are not going to die!” She clamped her hand beneath his chin, digging her fingers into his jaw. “Do you hear me? You are going to have a son, but only if you live. Do you hear me? You’re going to get what you want.”
He looked at her through a pained gaze. “Not … what …Iwant.”
His eyes closed, and she felt his tensed body relax. She wondered if the fever was damaging his brain. A son was what he wanted. All he’d ever wanted. Why was he denying that now?
Near dusk, she heard footsteps along the hallway just before Houston walked into the room. His face told her the verdict long before he was able to speak the words.
“They found him guilty.”
Her heart plummeted. “How could they find him guilty?Ishould have gone to the trial.Ishould have testified—”
Houston wrapped his hands around the bedpost and leaned his forehead against the scrolled wood. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. Not after it came out that he had threatened to kill both Boyd and Duncan. Damn it all, he even went so far as to shoot a bullet into the saloon wall right above Boyd’s head and announce that he wanted to rid the ground of Boyd’s shadow.”
Cordelia slammed her eyes closed.
“I wanted to shake him when I heard that testimony,” Houston added.
“This is going to kill Dallas when he’s well enough to understand what happened.”
“Yep. The sheriff is escorting Austin to the prison in Huntsville tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
Houston nodded. “Think the sheriff is afraid that if he waits until Dallas is well, Dallas will interfere.” Houston laughed derisively. “He’s right.”
“I need to talk to Austin.”
“I’ll watch Dallas. Amelia’s cooking supper. Thought we’d stay here tonight, do what we can to help you because we sure as hell can’t help Austin.”
The jail was built of brick, but it didn’t look as grand or as lovely as her hotel. It looked cold, hard, and depressing.
