Page 40 of Texas Glory
He ambled into the room and looked over Dallas’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Working.”
“I can see that. What are you making?”
Dallas tightened his jaw until it ached. “A leash.”
“A leash? For what? That’s so tiny … Good Lord! You’re letting her keep it.”
Dallas spun around and brandished the knife in front of his brother’s face. “Don’t say another word. Not one word. If you value your hide, you’ll wipe that stupid grin off your face and get the hell out of here.”
Holding up his hands, Austin began to back away. “I wouldn’t dream of saying anything.”
But when he was out of sight, his laughter echoed throughout the barn.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
“Ain’t never seen a prairie dog on a leash before,” Houston said.
Dallas slammed a nail into the fresh lumber, hoping that his brother would choke on his strangled laughter.
“A man of vision would open himself up a store in Leighton that sold leashes especially designed for prairie dogs,” Austin added, grinning.
Dallas stopped his hammering and glared at his youngest brother. “If you don’t wantyour visionhampered by two swollen eyes, you’ll discuss something else.”
“I think Austin has a valid point,” Houston said. “With all the prairie dogs around here, selling leashes could be a booming business, particularly for a man interested in building empires.”
“No doubt about that,” Austin said, “and it doesn’t take Dallas long to put a leash together. The one he made Dee only took about ten minutes, and he wouldn’t have needed that much time if he hadn’t carved the dog’s name into it.”
Houston started to chuckle. “You gotta have the dog’s name on it just in case he loses it. How else would you know who it belongs to?” The laughter he’d been holding in exploded around them.
Austin’s guffaws filled what little space remained for noise. Dallas failed to see the humor in the situation.
“Thought you wanted to add onto your house?” he asked.
He could see Houston struggling to stifle his laughter. He had a strong desire to come to his brother’s aid and hit him up side the head with his hammer.
“I do,” Houston finally managed to say.
“Then we need to stop jawing and get the frame up.”
“You’re right,” Houston admitted, his face growing serious a brief moment before his laughter erupted again. “Good Lord, Dallas, a prairie dog on a leash. I never thought you’d let a woman wrap you around her finger.”
“I’m not wrapped around her finger, and I liked you a lot better when you never laughed.”
Houston’s laughter dwindled. “But I didn’t like me. Didn’t like me at all.”
Dallas knew Houston had held himself in low esteem until Amelia had wrapped herself around his heart. He also knew no wrapping would take place between him and Cordelia … not around his heart, not around her finger. It wasn’t his way.
He unfolded his body. “Let’s get this frame up.”
“It’s so good to hear them laughing, to know they’re enjoying each other’s company,” Amelia said.
Cordelia glanced at the woman standing beside her, her fingers splayed across her stomach, a contented smile on her face.
“When I first came here, they seldom spoke to each other and they never laughed,” Amelia confided quietly.
