Page 129 of Texas Glory
Austin looked at Houston, and Houston shook his head. Cordelia dug her fingers into Austin’s arm. “You promised to be my friend. What do you know that I don’t?”
Austin sighed heavily, his blue eyes filled with sadness as he touched his fingers to her cheek. “Boyd was behind the hotel the night you got hurt.”
Cordelia felt the blood drain from her face. “No.”
She watched Austin swallow. “Yeah, Dee. Apparently, he enjoyed hurting Rawley, paid his pa to let him do it.”
She staggered back and fell into the chair, her hand covering her mouth. “I’m sorry, Dee, I never meant for you to find out.” “Does Dallas know?”
“No. Houston and I talked about it. We figured Dallas would kill Boyd if he knew.”
“That doesn’t mean Boyd is responsible for this,” Houston pointed out. “We just know he’s got a mean streak … and apparently no conscience.”
Cordelia rose from the chair and took a deep breath. “If one of you can watch Dallas, I need to go speak with my family this afternoon.”
“I’m going with you,” Austin said.
Cordelia captured his gaze. “I’m taking the men with me. You’re welcome to come, but understand that I want no interference.”
“Amelia will watch Dallas. We’ll both come with you,” Houston said.
“All right. Let me make the arrangements.”
She walked out of the house to the barn where she found Slim brushing Satan’s coat to a velvety sheen. She supposed everyone felt a need to do something for Dallas in their own way. “Slim?”
He turned and gave her a lopsided grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I need you to gather up the men. I want to go talk with my family this afternoon, and I have no desire to go alone. Be sure every man is carrying a rifle and a side arm, and that they are prepared to use them if necessary—but only on my orders.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Austin and Houston are coming along as well. I’m certain they’ll go into the house with me. I’d like you there as well.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll saddle your horse.”
“Thank you, Slim.” She walked from the barn, across Dallas’s domain, grateful her name was no longer McQueen.
She didn’t bother to knock when she arrived at her father’s house. She simply walked through the door, Houston, Austin, and Slim in tow.
The house was shaped like an H. One story with three bedrooms on each side, the main living quarters arranged in the center. She walked through the front parlor, straight into her father’s study.
Her father sat behind his desk, nursing what she supposed was a whiskey, Duncan was slouched in a chair, and Boyd was staring out a window.
Boyd turned. Blinding white-hot rage swept through her as she crossed the room, brought her hand back, and slapped Boyd as hard as she could.
He grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her flesh. “What the hell?”
Three guns were drawn and cocked.
“Let her go,” Austin snarled, “or I’ll put a bullet through you where you stand.”
Boyd released her.
“What’s going on, Dee?” Duncan asked as he came to his feet.
“Boyd murdered my child. How could you? How could you leave me there? And then to demand that Dallas give you his land—” Bile rose in her throat as she turned away from him. She had never felt such revulsion.
“Well, after that little dramatic display—”
