Page 105 of Texas Splendor
He crossed the short expanse separating them. “It means we’ll take care of it. I don’t want you to ever tell anyone what you told me tonight.”
“How will that clear your name?”
“Don’t you be worrying about my name. You worry about that little boy that’s sleeping in the cradle in our room.”
“You didn’t tell Dallas, did you?”
He dropped his head back and plowed his hands through his hair. “He’d hired the detective I told you about. Recently he notified Dallas that he thought he’d discovered a link to the land. I don’t know why it took him so long—”
“Because my father bought the land under a false name. So many men used different names after the war, especially if they had something to hide. He’d deserted. He was afraid they wouldn’t sell him the land if they knew the truth …” She looked at him imploringly. “Honestly my father wasn’t a bad man—”
“He just lied and cheated.”
Tears burned her eyes. “I never wanted anyone to know—”
“No one will know. I told Dallas to send a telegram to the detective and tell him his services were no longer needed.”
“And he agreed to do that … on your say-so?”
“He’s my brother. He trusts me.” He hunkered down before the hearth. “I’ll bank the fire. You go on to bed. I’ll be there directly.”
She padded into their bedroom and clambered onto the bed, drawing the blankets over her. Relief swamped her when she heard his footsteps and saw his silhouette in the doorway. As though she’d never see it again, she watched the way he held onto the doorjamb while slipping the heel of his boot into the bootjack and jerking his boot off. She listened to the thud of one, then the other, and the soft tread of his stockinged feet as he walked to the bed, yanking his shirt over his head as he went. She watched his shadow as he dropped his britches onto the floor. In the morning, she’d gladly pick up all his clothes and check them for tears and missing buttons before she laundered them.
The bed sank beneath his weight as he stretched out beside her, folded his arms beneath his head, and stared at the ceiling.
“Why did they think you killed McQueen?” she finally dredged up the courage to ask.
She heard him swallow in the silence that followed her question.
“Lots of reasons.”
“You said you’d made some mistakes—”
“Yep.”
“What did you do?”
He sighed deeply. “The land your father claimed was his belonged to Dallas. Boyd and Dallas fought over it. Dallas made a pact with the devil. He’d marry his sister and when she gave him a son, he’d deed the land over to Boyd. I told you what happened behind the hotel.
“We didn’t know it was Boyd at the time. Dee had heard a child cry out—Rawley. Boyd had hurt him in ways a boy should never be hurt. When Rawley confided in me, I went into the saloon—like a big man—fired my gun right over Boyd’s head and told him that I’d like nothing better than to rid the ground of his shadow.
“There were plenty of witnesses. So when he showed up dead, they figured I’d carried out my threat.”
“But Becky knew differently,” she said softly, understanding the full extent of his love for Becky. He had to have known what their silence might cost him.
“I didn’t think they’d find me guilty so I told her not to say anything.”
“But after they found you guilty—”
“Didn’t see that it would have made any difference. Boyd wrote ‘Austin’ in the dirt before he died.”
“I wonder why he didn’t write my name.”
“My guess is that he planned to but he died before he got around to it. Writing your name wouldn’t have helped if no one knew where to find you so he wrote that first.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs with the realization of what had brought him to Austin. “The man you were looking for in Austin—”
He rolled over and cradled her cheek. “Seems he wasn’t a man at all.”
