Page 53 of Texas Glory
Cordelia glanced up from the selections and smiled. “I guess you didn’t know my brothers had a sister.”
“Oh, I’d heard the rumors,” Becky said. “I was just surprised Dallas would marry you after Boyd shot Austin.”
Cordelia’s heart rammed against her ribs, and she could feel the blood draining from her face.
Becky’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. Didn’t you know?”
Cordelia lowered her gaze to the floor. Why wouldn’t it crack open and swallow her whole?
“I’m sure Dallas has forgiven him, otherwise he wouldn’t have married you.”
The door swung open, and Austin sauntered into the store, a sarsaparilla stick jutting from his mouth. “Well, I did it. Got the boy to take one of the sticks.”
He strolled over to Cordelia, confidence in his step. “What you got there, Dee?”
“R-rugs. I thought … I thought I’d purchase one for the house.”
“That’d be fine,” Austin said, talking around the sarsaparilla stick. “Which one?”
Cordelia quickly searched through the stack and pulled out a brown rug. “This one.”
Becky took it from her. “I’ll wrap it for you and put it on Dallas’s account. You can pick it up on your way out of town.”
“Can we go home now?” she asked Austin.
“Thought you wanted to see the rest of the town?”
“Oh, yes, I forgot.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at Austin, knowing her brother had shot him.
Austin took her arm. “Come on, Dee, you’re looking pale. Let’s get some air.”
She allowed him to lead her outside. Then she broke away from him, crossed the small boardwalk, and wrapped her trembling hands around the railing.
Austin studied the woman clinging to the railing as though she were afraid she’d drown in the dust without it. He took the sarsaparilla stick out of his mouth. “What happened, Dee?”
She looked at him, with hurt and anger mixed in her eyes. His stomach dropped clear to the ground, and he fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to wipe the hurt and anger away. “What did I do?” he said, his voice low.
“Boyd shot you.”
He furrowed his brow. “Yeah?”
“You said it was cattle rustlers.”
“Dallas said it was cattle rustlers.”
“Why?”
Austin shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t think you’d believe him, or maybe he was trying to spare you some hurt. Sitting in that shade, eating our meal, it just didn’t feel right to me to say Boyd had shot me. I reckon Dallas felt the same way.”
“But Boyd did shoot you.”
“Becky tell you that?”
She nodded.
“Dang, that girl has a big mouth.”
“Why did he shoot you?”
