Page 29 of Texas Splendor
The bartender nodded toward the back. “The fella at that table in the corner.”
Austin turned and studied the man sitting at a distant table. Dressed in a black jacket and red brocade vest, he reminded Austin of a gambler. His fingers nimbly set one card after another on the table.
“Just sits there and plays cards by himself all day,” the bartender offered.
“I’ll take the bottle of whiskey,” Austin said as he laid down his money and grabbed the neck of the bottle along with his glass. He ambled across the hardwood floor, his spurs jangling. He found comfort in the sound he’d been without for five years. “Hear you’re looking for information on Boyd McQueen.”
The man raised his eyes from the cards, pinning Austin with his dark gaze. “Yep.”
“Found out anything so far?”
“Nope.”
Not appreciating the man’s brief answers, Austin tethered his temper. “Five hundred dollars is a lot of money—”
“Ain’t coming out of my pocket.”
Suspicion lurked in the back of Austin’s mind. “Whose pocket is it coming out of?”
“Your brother’s.” With the toe of his boot, the man shoved a chair away from the table. “Have a seat.”
“You’re the detective Dallas hired?”
“Yep.”
Cautiously Austin settled into the chair. “How did you know who I was?”
“You’ve got your brother’s eyes.”
Austin released a breath of disgust. “No wonder you haven’t located the person who murdered Boyd. Dallas has brown eyes.” He leaned forward, opening his eyes wide. “Mine are blue.”
“They’re shaped the same, and they both show a man of little patience. You’ve got his thick brows, his square chin, and a jaw that tightens when you’re angry.” With one hand, he swept up the cards spread over the table and rearranged them with a quiet shuffle. “And you walk like a man who just spent five years in prison and doesn’t know if he can trust anyone.”
Austin downed his whiskey, refilled his glass, and poured the amber liquid into the empty glass resting beside the man’s arm. He didn’t particularly like that the man had summed him up so easily and precisely. Between the town folk actually thinking him capable of murder and Becky’s betrayal, he’d lost a great deal of his faith in his fellow man. Although Loree’s touch had certainly made him want to believe in the worth of people. “Dallas didn’t tell me your name.”
“Wylan Alexander.”
“What brought you to this town?”
“Your brother sent me a telegram.”
Austin leaned forward. “What do you think of my theory that Boyd meant this town and not me when he wrote ‘Austin’ in the dirt?”
Wylan slapped the cards down on the table and swallowed all the whiskey in his glass before meeting Austin’s gaze. “I’m here, ain’t I?”
“But you think it’s hogwash.”
Wylan shook his head and patiently began laying the cards one face up, six face down. “I’ll admit when I got your brother’s telegram telling me what you thought, I laughed out loud, but I’m as desperate as you are and just as angry. It’s never taken me more than six weeks to solve a case. This one’s been hanging around too long and it’s ruining my reputation, not to mention being hard on my pride. If McQueen hadn’t written your name in the dirt, I’d say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and some drifter got lucky.”
Austin rubbed his hands up and down his face. “But he did write my name. Damn, I wish my parents had been living in Galveston when I was born.”
Wylan chuckled. “Yep, might have saved us all some grief.”
Austin took a sip of the whiskey. “You haven’t learned anything at all?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“So what do we do?”
