Page 107 of Texas Splendor
“Ran into Sheriff Larkin while I was in town. Seems your wife paid him a visit bright and early this morning.”
Austin felt all the blood drain from his face, his knees went weak, and his heart was pounding like stampeding cattle.
“She told Sheriff Larkin thatshekilled Boyd McQueen.”
Taking a deep breath, Austin swung open the door to the jail and stepped into the front office. The cells were kept in the back behind another door, which Austin knew from experience Larkin kept ajar. Sweat popped out on Austin’s brow and he trembled as though he were the one to be locked up.
He had no fond memories of jail. His trial had been held in the saloon. The judge presided from a stool behind the bar. Austin sat at a table, humiliation wrapping itself around him because Larkin wouldn’t unshackle his hands. He rubbed his wrists now as though the cold metal still bit into his skin.
Larkin was sprawled in his chair, his feet on his desk, his belly lapping over his belt. Austin knew that somewhere behind that insolent gaze the man had some redeeming qualities or his brother never would have hired him.
Austin swallowed hard. “Heard my wife came in this morning with some tale about killing Boyd McQueen.”
Larkin removed the match from between his teeth. “Yep.”
“She lied.”
Larkin raised a graying brow. “Do tell.”
Austin felt a spark of hope ignite within him and he stepped nearer. “I wanted to leave town with that orchestra that was here a few days back, but they didn’t want a man who’d been convicted of murder traveling with them. Loree, bless her sweet heart, thought if she said she’d killed Boyd, they’d let me go with them.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Women. They don’t understand the intricacies of the law.”
Larkin pointed the match at him. “So you’re telling me you killed Boyd?”
“That’s right. When you arrested me six years ago, you sure knew what you were doing. I resented like the devil that you figured out it was me—but I had to admire you as well.”
Larkin dropped his feet to the floor. “Well, I’ll be damned. Your wife sure did tell a convincing story.”
“I’ll bet she did.”
Larkin stood and picked his ring of keys off his desk. He ambled toward the back door like a man in no hurry. Then he stopped, turned, and rubbed his ear. “Suppose you told her where you hid the gun.”
Austin felt as though Larkin had just gut-punched him. “What?”
“The gun you used to kill Boyd. Your wife knew exactly where it had been all these years. Reckon you must have told her.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“And where was it?”
Austin slammed his eyes closed. Hell, he didn’t even know where Boyd had died. “I buried it under some sagebrush—” He opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as Larkin slowly nodded.
“And you’d wrapped something around the gun before you buried it. Want to tell me what that was?”
“A strip of blanket.”
He knew from the hard look in the sheriff’s eyes that he’d given the wrong answer. “A linen handkerchief that had Boyd’s initials sewn into it and his blood soaked through it,” Larkin said.
“Larkin, let her go.”
“Can’t do that. My job is to see that justice is served, and six years ago an injustice was done that I can’t overlook.” He jerked his head to the side. “You want to talk to her?”
“No, I don’t by God want to talk to her.” He spun on his heel, stalked through the office, and slammed the door in his wake.
If he saw her, he was afraid he would tell her that by turning herself in, she had taken from him the most precious dream he’d ever held.
And what good would that knowledge do either of them?
Austin laid his sleeping son in the cradle. Three days had passed—three days without Loree—and every minute had been hell. He wanted to see her like he’d never wanted anything in his life, but he was afraid looking at her behind bars, caged like an animal, would bring him to his knees.
