Page 133 of Texas Glory
The sheriff’s office was small. He sat at his desk, his legs crossed over papers scattered on top. A door at the back stood ajar.
“Reckon you’re here to see Austin,” he said as he brought himself to his feet.
She nodded, her voice knotting in her throat. She had to be brave, she had to be strong.
He pointed. “You’ll find him through that door.”
Cautiously, she walked through the door, not certain what to expect. Bars stretching from the floor to the ceiling ran along both sides of the corridor. Other bars divided each side into two. Four jail cells altogether.
Austin was in the last one, leaning against the brick wall, his hands cupping Becky Oliver’s face while her fingers clutched his shirt through the bars.
He turned his head slightly and gave Cordelia a halfhearted smile. “Hey, Dee.”
The truth of his situation hit her hard. “I’ll come back.”
“That’s all right. Becky was just leaving.”
Tears streaming along her cheeks, Becky tilted her head back to look at Austin. “Let me tell them, Austin.”
“Shh.” He touched his thumbs to her lips. “You just wait for me, sweet thing. Like we talked about.”
With a sob, she released her hold on him and skirted past Cordelia. Austin turned his face toward the wall. Cordelia could see his throat muscles straining, working. She gave him time to compose himself before she quietly approached.
“I didn’t kill him, Dee,” Austin said as he met her gaze.
Reaching out, she trailed her fingers over his bristly cheek. “I know that, Austin. That’s the one thing I’ve never doubted in this whole mess.”
He looked as though she had just lifted a weight from his shoulders. “How’s Dallas?”
“His fever hasn’t broken, but I just left Dr. Freeman. He’s going to see what more he can do.”
They looked at each other—with so much to be said—but here, with the words traveling between iron bars, too much remained unsaid. Taking a deep breath, Cordelia finally ventured, “You’re protecting someone, aren’t you?”
Austin dropped his gaze to his boots, the toes sticking through the bars as though searching for freedom. “Cameron?” “No.”
“If it’s the person who killed Boyd—” “It’s not.”
“But you were with someone that night, weren’t you?”
He continued to stare at the floor, and the truth dawned on her so clearly that she wondered why no one else had thought of it. “Becky,” she whispered hoarsely. “You were with Becky.”
He lifted his gaze.
She wrapped her hands around the cold bars. “That’s what she meant when she said, ‘Let me tell them.’ Austin, she can vouch for you—”
He shook his head sadly. “It’s just five years, Dee. It’s not worth ruining her reputation. It’s not worth bringing her shame. We want to live here. Raise our children here. I won’t have people whispering behind her back.”
“But you’ve been accused of murder. You don’t think people will whisper about that?”
“When I get out, I’ll figure out who did it, and I’ll handle it.”
“But, Austin … five years.”
“Houston married Amelia five years ago, and it seems like yesterday. It’s not that long.”
“It’s an eternity when you have no freedom.”
He wrapped his hand around hers. “You tell Dallas to stay clear of this.”
