Page 1 of Texas Splendor
Chapter 1
April 1887
Moments stolen … never to be regained. Memories not worth remembering lingering at the edge of his awareness, unwilling to be forgotten.
Five years of slowly dying.
Austin Leigh stared at the gates of Huntsville Prison, knowing that the remainder of his life waited on the other side, just as he’d left it five years earlier when twelve men he had trusted found him guilty of murder.
After surviving one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days as a “slave of the state,” he once again wore his own clothes. The blue cambric shirt hung loosely from his wide shoulders, and his denim britches threatened to slip past his narrow hips. But they were his, clothes he’d worn at twenty-one when he’d been filled with the vibrancy of youth, when he had foolishly believed that a person had only to reach for a dream in order to obtain it.
In the passing years, no one had laundered the clothes, and when he closed his eyes, he imagined that he smelled a woman’s fading vanilla fragrance, felt her slender fingers clutch his shirt one last time, tasted her tears as his lips brushed over hers during an agonizing farewell.
Becky. Sweet Becky Oliver. Within his heart, the distant memories waltzed and he saw her clearly—smiling at him, laughing with him, loving him beneath the stars on a moon-shadowed night. A night when they had given so much to each other, not knowing that another’s actions would snatch everything away.
Clanging chains jarred him from his reverie. With loathing, he glared at the guard unlocking the iron cuffs that circled his wrists. The shackles fell away and Austin rubbed the pink scars that had formed over the years.
“Now, then, boy,” the guard began, “don’t do anything out there that will land you back in here. I might not be so understanding next time.”
“Just open the goddamn gate,” Austin snarled through clenched teeth.
The guard narrowed his eyes as though contemplating the consequences of striking a man on the verge of regaining his freedom. Then he shoved open the gate. Its creaking hinges echoed in the stillness of dawn.
Austin latched his gaze onto the brightening sky that lay beyond the walls. It appeared untouched by the filth and degradation that existed within the prison. With long strides, he walked into freedom, relishing his first breath of unfetid air. His heart tightened when he caught sight of his two brothers standing in front of three horses.
“You look like hell,” Dallas said, his voice strangled with emotions.
Austin wondered when the silver had streaked through Dallas’s black hair. The furrows in his brow had deepened and bits of white peppered his thick mustache. “I feel like hell,” he said, forcing his mouth to shape a grin.
Dallas jerked him against his chest. “Damn you, boy, what in the hell did you think you were doing?”
Austin worked his way out of his brother’s strong grip. The last time he had seen Dallas, his older brother had been fighting for his life. Austin had dreaded the moment when he’d have to face Dallas’s uncompromising brown gaze and explain his actions. “What I thought was best.”
Turning, he found it easier to meet Houston’s gaze. His middle brother had sat behind him during his trial. The war had ravaged Houston’s face, but the passing years had treated him more kindly. Or perhaps it was simply that the black leather eye patch remained unchanged so it seemed all else had stayed the same.
Austin had intended to give Houston nothing more than a handshake, but as soon as their roughened palms met, he found himself pulled into a fierce hug. Houston had always been a man of few words, and right now Austin was grateful for his brother’s silence. “See you brought Black Thunder.”
He freed himself from Houston’s hold and mounted the ebony stallion in one lithe, smooth movement, relishing the feel of a horse beneath him. Certain his brothers would follow, he set his heels to Black Thunder’s flanks, sending him into a hard gallop.
The road opened up before him, but he feared no matter how fast or far he rode, he’d never truly escape the walls that had surrounded him … not until he’d seen Becky. Touched her. Held her. Made her his wife.
Austin’s heart swelled as he caught sight of the massive adobe house. He carried the dust of several days’ travel, but at this moment, it seemed unimportant.
He was home.
As they neared Dallas’s house, Austin saw a girl jump up from the veranda steps and run inside. He drew his horse to a halt and dismounted, his brothers doing the same.
The girl bounded back outside, her blond curls bouncing around her tiny shoulders, her arms flung open wide. “Uncle Austin! You’re back!”
She leapt for him, and he swung her up into his arms.
“I’m so glad!” she cried. “I missed you so much!” Her soft rounded cheek brushed against his bristly one, her arms tightly wound around his neck.
He tipped back his head, taking joy in the green glint of her eyes. Houston’s oldest daughter had been three years old when he’d left. “Maggie May, when did you grow up?”
“A long time ago. Me and Rawley go to school now.”
“Is that so?” He looked past her to the tall boy leaning against the veranda beam, his black hair neatly trimmed, his clothes showing little wear.
