Page 5 of Texas Splendor
He nodded briskly. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Abruptly, he spun on his heel and strode through the alley until he reached the boardwalk. He’d never felt more lost in his life.
Although the family had welcomed him home with open arms, he no longer felt a part of them. His brothers had wives, children, and successful businesses. And what did Austin have? Nothing but a tarnished reputation that he should have never possessed.
Stalking down the boardwalk, he was surprised his feet didn’t split the boards with the weight of his anger as he headed toward the far end of town where the saloon beckoned.
Smoke thickened the air as he stormed through the swinging doors of the saloon. A huge gilded mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar reflected the patrons who occupied the chairs or stood against the walls.
He felt gazes boring into him, and even in the din of male voices and raucous laughter, he thought he heard people harshly whispering his name. He ambled toward the crowded bar and hooked the heel of his boot on the brass railing that ran the length of the bar. The men closest to him sidled away like he had festering sores covering him. He slapped a coin on the counter. “Whiskey.”
The bartender picked up a glass and poured the amber brew, his gaze never leaving Austin. It had always amazed Austin that Beau could serve drinks and never once look to see what he was doing.
“Heard you’d be home soon,” Beau said as he eyed Austin warily.
“Well, you heard right.” Austin crossed his arms on the bar and leaned forward slightly.
Beau set the full glass in front of him. “I don’t want no trouble in here.”
“I don’t plan to start any,” Austin assured him.
With a brusque nod, Beau ambled to the far end of the counter, wiping the shining wood as he went. An icy shiver skittered along Austin’s spine. He despised the sensation of being watched and judged. In prison, guards had glared at him, dogs had followed his every movement, other prisoners had scrutinized him and measured him against their own low standards.
He jerked his head around and locked his blue glare onto Lester Henderson. The portly banker stood at the bar, his dark eyes set in a face that greatly resembled bread dough. Averting his gaze, Lester downed the remainder of his beer. He wiped a pudgy hand across his mouth, straightened his shoulders, and approached Austin.
“I had no choice but to vote guilty,” Henderson said, his voice hitching. “The evidence—”
“I know what the evidence was. I was at the goddamn trial.”
“Can’t give a loan to a man fresh out of prison—”
“Did I ask for a loan?”
“No, but I just wanted to save you from asking.” Henderson scurried away like a squirrel that had spotted the last pecan on the ground.
Austin wrapped his fingers around the glass of whiskey and studied the contents. As soon as he finished the whiskey, he’d set about clearing his name. He didn’t anticipate that it would take long. He had always known that Duncan McQueen had pinned the blame on him.
He brought the glass to his lips, tipped his head back, and caught the reflection of a raised knife in the mirror.
He moved swiftly, but not quickly enough. Agonizing pain tore through his back. He darted to the side, spun around, and plowed his fist into Duncan McQueen’s face before the man could strike again. As Duncan staggered back, Austin grabbed the hand holding the knife and slammed it hard against the wooden counter. The knife clattered to the floor.
Austin caught an unexpected fist just below his jaw. Pain ricocheted through his head as his knees buckled. He hit the floor hard, blackness encroaching on his vision. He scrambled to his knees, struggling to get to his feet, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth.
“You bastard!” Duncan roared before lunging for Austin.
Austin reversed his efforts, dropped to his side, and kicked Duncan in the knee. Grunting, Duncan fell to the floor and grabbed the knife. Hatred burned brightly within his dark eyes as he jumped to his feet. “Five years! That’s all they gave you for murdering my brother because Dallas owns this part of the state. They should have hanged you!” He brandished the bloodied knife in the air. “I reckon it’s up to me to deliver the justice you deserve.”
“Not in my saloon!” Beau said as he rounded the corner of the bar, gun in hand. He shoved Duncan on the shoulder. “Back up.”
His head pounding, his back throbbing, Austin struggled to his feet and glared at Duncan. “What the hell are you ranting about, Duncan? You killed Boyd and made it look like I did it.”
“Don’t see how that could be,” Beau said in a slow drawl. “Duncan showed up here in the late afternoon and sat in that corner right over there until dawn, getting drunk.”
“Why would I kill my brother?” Duncan asked, loathing laced through his voice.
That was the one answer Austin didn’t have.
“Everyone knows you murdered him,” Duncan snarled.
Austin scrutinized the men who had gathered around the bar. The knowledge in their eyes spoke louder than Duncan’s words. He saw no doubts. Not one questioning look. He saw nothing but absolute certainty staring back at him. They all thought he had murdered Boyd McQueen.
