Page 102 of Texas Glory
And he watched as she wept silently when Amelia wrapped the tiny lifeless body in a blanket. Dallas forced himself to his feet. “I’ll take him.”
Amelia glanced up, despair sweeping over her face. “Dallas—”
“I’ll see after him while you finish taking care of Dee.”
He took the small bundle and left the room. It was the dead of night, but he did what needed to be done.
He built a small coffin and padded it with the delicate blankets Dee had bought to keep the child warm. Then he laid his tiny son inside the wooden box.
With the cold winter winds howling around him, he dug a grave near the windmill beside the house and laid his son to rest.
As gentle as an angel’s soft tears, snowflakes began to cascade from the heavens.
A shudder of despair racking his body, Dallas dropped to his knees, dug his fingers into the freshly turned soil, and wept.
Cordelia forced herself through the fog of exhaustion and pain. Every inch of her body protested, her heart protesting most of all for it remembered the loss and the grief on Dallas’s face as he’d taken his child from Amelia.
She bit back a cry as fingers poked and prodded. She opened her eyes. Hadn’t she suffered enough? Why was Dr. Freeman torturing her now?
He pulled down her gown and brought the blankets over her, seemingly unaware that she had awakened. Through half-closed eyes she watched him walk across the room to the window where Dallas stood gazing out through the paned glass.
“She gonna live?” Dallas asked.
“She should,” Dr. Freeman said, “but she’s going to need a lot of rest. Pamper her for a while.” Dr. Freeman put his hand on Dallas’s shoulder. “And find a way to tell her gently that she’s not going to be able to have any more children.”
Cordelia’s heart constricted, and she pressed her hand against her mouth, biting her knuckles to keep herself from crying out. Dallas jerked his head around and stared at the doctor.
“Are you sure she can’t have any more children?”
Dr. Freeman sighed heavily. “She’s lucky to be alive. She got hurt inside and out. Her injuries were extensive, and there’s going to be a lot of scarring. Based on my experience, I don’t see how she could possibly get pregnant.”
He walked quietly from the room. Dallas placed a balled fist on the window and bowed his head.
Cordelia’s heart shattered with the knowledge that he’d lost his dream.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Before she was fully awake, before she’d opened her eyes, she was aware of his warm fingers threaded through hers. Her eyelids fluttered, and she could see Dallas sitting in a chair beside the bed, his dark head bent, his face unshaven.
Tears clogged her throat and burned behind her eyes. He looked to be a man in mourning. She used what little strength she had to squeeze his fingers.
He snapped his head up and leaned forward. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Gently he brushed wisps of hair from her face. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a voice that sounded as rough as sandpaper.
He became blurred as her tears surfaced. “Was our baby a boy?” she asked.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips against the back of her hand. Then he opened his eyes and held her gaze. She watched his throat work as he swallowed.
“Yeah, yeah he was. I, uh, I laid him to rest near the windmill. I … I always liked the way the blades clack when the wind comes through, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
She wished she had the strength to sit up and wrap her arms around him, to comfort him. The tears welled. “I overheard what Dr. Freeman said—that I won’t be able to have other children. Dallas, I’m so sorry—”
“Shh. You’re gonna be all right and that’s what matters. I thought I was gonna lose you, too.”
At that moment she didn’t think she could love him more—for the lie he had spoken with such sincerity. She knew the truth. If she had died as well, he could remarry—any of the women who had recently moved to Leighton—and have the son he so desperately wanted.
He eased up in the chair. “Dee, I want to know what happened.”
