Page 39 of Texas Glory
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said on a rushed sigh with obvious relief.
The anger drained right out of him at the sight of her lovely face with no fear in her eyes.
“Here,” she said as she stood and held the varmint toward him. “Hold her.”
“What?”
“Hold her,” she repeated as she shoved the animal into his hands, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the chair. “Sit down.”
Stunned by the urgency in her voice, Dallas sat.
“I cleaned her wound and put some salve on it, but I was having a terrible time trying to wrap her leg,” she explained as she picked a strip of white linen off the floor. “Hold her paw for me so I can dress it. Otherwise, she’ll lick off the salve.”
Dallas fought to hold the animal motionless while Cordelia wound a piece of good clean linen around its wound.
Her hands suddenly stilled, and she looked at him. “Someone set a trap on your land. What sort of cruel person would do that?”
Guilt had him clearing his throat. “Someone who recognized that a prairie dog is dangerous.”
Her hands once again stilled. “How is she dangerous?”
“Because it lives underground and burrows holes across the prairie. A horse drops a leg into that hole, he usually breaks his leg and has to be shot.”
“Then the hole is dangerous, not the prairie dog.”
“That’s like saying a gun is dangerous, not the man holding it.”
“It’s not the same at all.” She finished wrapping the bandage around its paw. “Austin thought I should name her Trouble, but I like the name Precious. What do you think?”
He thought he could get used to carrying on a conversation with her that wasn’t guided by fear, but he had to deal with this unpleasant task first. “Prairie dogs are a cowboy’s worst enemy. You can’t keep it.”
“Why? I’ll keep Precious with me. I won’t let her dig any holes.”
“I need to take the prairie dog outta here.”
She grabbed the animal from his hands and scurried to the corner, hunching her shoulders as though to protect herself and the animal. “What are you going to do with her?” she asked, the apprehension plunging into her eyes.
The dog released a high-pitched yelp. Dallas couldn’t tell the woman he was going to shoot the varmint. He shoved himself to his feet with such force that the chair teetered and toppled to its side. His wife flinched.
“I’ll make it a damn leash, but if it gets off the leash I won’t be responsible for it.”
Dallas stormed through the kitchen door at the back of the house and headed into the barn. He jerked the reins off the wall and stalked to the workroom at the
back of the building. He set the leather strips on the scarred table, unsheathed his knife, and started cutting.
If he ever had any daughters, he was going to teach them how to deal with a rough world. They could cuss, chew tobacco, and drink like a man for all he cared, but they sure as hell weren’t going to be docile creatures afraid of their own shadows or their husbands’ voices.
He heard the muffled footsteps and carved more deeply into the tanned hide.
“So did you break the news to her?” Austin asked as he leaned against the doorway.
“Yep,” Dallas ground out through his clenched teeth as he drilled a ragged hole into the leather with the point of his knife.
“How did she take the news?” Austin asked.
“She took it just fine.”
Austin shook his head. “Sure wish I had your skill with people. I couldn’t think of a way to tell her without breaking her heart.”
