Page 106 of Texas Splendor
She squeezed her eyes shut. “How you must hate me.”
His thumb circled her cheek in a gentle caress. “Loree, make no mistake. I would have killed him that night but Becky sidetracked me. Boyd had paid some men to kill Dallas, and they’d lashed him to within an inch of his life. We couldn’t prove anything because he’d murdered them in their sleep. He was spawned by the devil, and I’m damned tired of him reaching out from hell and touching our lives. We’re gonna put this behind us. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but by God, I’m not going to let him steal something else away from me.” He dropped his hand down to her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Come here.”
She scooted over until she was nestled in his embrace.
“Tomorrow, we’ll decide what we’re gonna do,” he told her. “But right now I gotta get some sleep.” She heard his deep yawn. “Last night, I didn’t sleep at all, worrying about this morning.”
This morning. How long ago it seemed since he had set out in search of his dream. Every dream he had ever dreamed, she had stolen from him.
His hold on her loosened, his fingers unfurling from around her shoulder. She heard his breathing deepen and slow. She was amazed he slept after all that she’d told him, and thought how much easier it would have been if he’d ranted and raved and told her that he hated her.
She could only surmise that the full implications of her confession hadn’t hit him yet. Sooner or later, he would look across the room and realize all that she had cost him.
She heard the small cry, tempered by the night. She slipped from beneath the weight of Austin’s arm and walked the familiar path in the darkness, lifting her son into her arms and settling into the rocker near the window. She held him to her breast. His tiny fist pressed against her flesh as he suckled greedily.
She loved the child as much as she loved the father. Her gaze traveled across the room until she saw the dark shadow of her husband, asleep. She wondered what he would dream tonight.
She wondered how long before his love turned to hate. How long before he ticked off and counted all the things she’d stolen from him.
Five years of his life spent in prison, and she could only imagine what horrors he’d experienced there—a man with a heart that heard music as beautiful as his did. Little wonder the music had died within him.
She couldn’t give him back those years. She couldn’t remove the scars from his back … or return to him the woman he had once loved—a woman he would be married to today if only Loree had known they had arrested someone for killing Boyd McQueen. She would have turned herself in six years ago, confessed then had she known.
She couldn’t give Austin back anything she’d unknowingly taken from him, but she could return what she’d recently taken. With his innocence proven, he would be truly free of the walls that still held him. He could pursue his dream and there would be nothing to stop him from reaching it.
She glanced down at the bundle of joy in her arms. How could she leave him? If she turned herself in, she had little doubt she would leave her son. She would go to prison just as Austin had. To give Austin his dream, she had to give up hers. Her heart shattered with the thought of never holding this child again, of not watching him grow, of not watching him take his first step. But each day she waited, the debt she owed for killing McQueen increased.
And she could no longer tolerate the thought of Austin continually paying for her actions. Tears streamed along her cheeks. How was she to have known that Fate was more cruel than Boyd McQueen?
Austin awoke to a strangeness that he couldn’t identify. He heard birds chirping outside the window. He heard his son gurgling in the cradle nearby. But he couldn’t hear Loree.
He threw back the blankets and swung his legs off the bed. His gaze landed on his son, his blue eyes wide, his fists and feet swinging at the air. “Hey there, young fella. Where’s your ma?”
Grant cooed and his feet kicked excitedly. Austin yanked on his trousers before lifting his son into his arms. “Well, you’re dry and you ain’t hollering so she must have fed you.” With his thumb, he wiped the drool from his son’s mouth.
“We got a lot of things to work out—your ma and me—but I don’t want you to worry none. I’m doing enough worrying for all of us.”
He padded into the front room. Morning light slanted through the windows. A chill swept through him that was as cold as the stove. He headed for the door. Something on the table caught his eye. He ambled back and picked up the paper. With uneven lines as though she’d been trembling at the time, she’d scribbled, “Forgive me.”
Dread shot through his vitals like the well aimed bullet of a Winchester rifle. He tore through the front door and stumbled onto the porch. “Loree!”
Holding his son close, trying not to jar the boy, Austin rushed to the corral as though going nearer would change what he was already seeing. Her horse was gone. He slammed his palm against the post and screamed her name, knowing even as he did so that it was pointless. She couldn’t hear him.
Grant started to fuss. Austin jostled him slightly. “It’s all right. I’m sure your ma just went for an early morning ride.” Dear God, he hoped that was all she’d done.
He walked back into the house and stared at every inch of it as though just seeing it for the first time. “Reckon we missed the sunrise. I don’t hardly know how to start the day without seeing the sunrise, but I still need my morning coffee.”
He set Grant down on a pile of quilts, but the boy started hollering like his heart would break. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
“All right, all right,” Austin said as he tucked his son into the crook of his arm. The tears and hollering stopped as quickly as they’d begun. “I’ll wait until your ma gets home to have my coffee.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “She can’t be much longer.”
He heard a horse whinny and relief surged through him. He rushed outside and stumbled to a stop at the sight of Dallas sitting astride his horse.
“Did you send that telegram to Wylan?”
Dallas swept his hat from his head and draped his forearm over the saddle arm. “Sure did. First thing this morning, just like I promised.”
“Good.”
