Page 2 of Texas Splendor
“Uh-huh,” she assured him.
He set her down and slowly approached Rawley Cooper. It hadn’t surprised Austin when Dallas had written to inform him that he and Dee had adopted the boy. “Hear tell that I’m your uncle now.”
“You don’t gotta be, on account we ain’t got the same blood. Only if you wanna be.”
Austin pulled the boy close. “Oh, I wanna be.”
Why hadn’t he realized these children would continue to grow without him around, leaving him to miss out on so much?
He heard the rapid patter of tiny feet as four small girls stampeded through the doorway, their high-pitched voices reminding him of chirping birds. “Pa! Pa! Pa!”
Kneeling, Houston cradled three blond girls against his chest. Amelia had given birth to Laurel the Christmas before Austin went to prison. Amanda and A. J. had been little more than words scrawled in a letter until this moment. The same as Faith, the dark-haired beauty Dallas lifted into his arms.
“You’re home!” Dee cried.
Tall and slender, she was a sight for sore eyes as she gracefully glided across the veranda, her smile bright enough to blind a man.
“You’ve gotten skinny,” she said as she embraced Austin and thumped his back.
“They don’t cook like you do.”
She laughed. Lord, he’d forgotten how true uninhibited laughter washed over a man and filled him with unrestrained joy.
“I don’t cook,” she reminded him. “Amelia cooks.”
She stepped aside. Before he caught his breath, Amelia wrapped her arms around him, hugging him closely. The first woman to come into their lives. God, he loved her … almost as much as he loved Becky.
When Amelia moved away, Austin smiled. “I know one of those girls has to be Laurel Joy. She couldn’t even crawl when I left. The others weren’t even here.”
“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to get to know them and catch up,” Amelia assured him. “Right now, we’ve got supper waiting.”
“Sounds like heaven. I haven’t had a decent meal … in years.”
Amelia and Dee slipped their arms through his and led him into the house. Like a man lost in the wilderness, Austin searched for recognizable sights to guide him toward the welcome haven of familiarity, but he found none. A portrait of Dallas and his family hung on the wall. A new rug ran the length of the hallway.
The girls rushed past him as they entered the dining room. The old oak table was gone, replaced by a longer one that could accommodate the growing family. Dallas and Houston lowered the girls onto tall chairs before taking their places. Maggie patted the empty chair between her and Rawley. “Sit by us, Uncle Austin.”
Unexpectedly feeling awkward and out of place, he dropped into the chair. The bowl set before him brimmed with stew, steam spiraling upward. His mouth watered. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He picked up the spoon, bent forward, and placed his elbows on the table, allowing his arms to circle the bowl, forming a protective barrier around his dinner. He’d slurped two spoonfuls before the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he realized everyone was staring at him.
He shifted his gaze to Maggie. With wide green eyes, she watched him as though he were a stranger.
“Don’t reckon you’ll steal my food, will you?” he asked, his voice low, afraid he’d failed miserably at making light of his strange behavior.
She pressed her lips together, her brow creasing as she slowly moved her head from side to side.
Austin straightened and glanced around the table, wondering why he felt so isolated when surrounded by family. “My apologies. I seem to have forgotten how to eat around decent folk.”
“No need to apologize,” Amelia said. “We’re family, for God’s sake. You should have eaten at this table for the past five years anyway.”
He shifted his gaze to Dallas. They had journeyed to the ranch much as they had traveled through life before Amelia—asking no questions, sharing no sorrows. “Reckon you’ll want to talk about that.”
Dallas shook his head. “It was your life, your decision. But you should know I hired a detective to find Boyd’s killer. Unfortunately he hasn’t had any luck.”
“He still looking?”
“He’s not devoting himself to it any longer, but he keeps an ear to the ground. Whoever killed Boyd knew what he was doing. He didn’t leave any evidence.”
“Why don’t we discuss this after dinner?” Dee suggested.
