Page 42 of Texas Glory
From the corner of his eye, Dallas watched his wife scurry toward the front of the house. He was having a hell of a time keeping his mind focused on the task at hand—building Houston’s house.
He kept finding his thoughts drifting toward his wife. It hadn’t helped that during the week she had laundered his clothes and when he had begun to sweat earlier, her lavender scent had risen up around him. He’d thought he might go insane, having her fragrance surround him while she stood incredibly far away.
He had made a mistake not exercising his husbandly rights on their wedding night. Now, he had no idea how to approach her and let her know that her reprieve was over.
He knew if he knocked on her door, she’d open it with terror in her eyes, and he couldn’t stand the thought. She reminded him of the way too many soldiers had looked at him during the war. They’d followed his orders and gone into battle, fearing him more than they had feared the enemy or death.
He didn’t believe in living with regrets, but sometimes he wondered how many men his hard nature had sent to their deaths.
He didn’t want his wife looking at him with that same fear in her eyes when he came to her bed. Only he didn’t know how to erase it. For a short time while they had tended the prairie dog, the fear had left her eyes, but Dallas couldn’t see himself bringing her a wounded prairie dog every night.
He brought himself to his feet and went to fetch more boards and nails. When he neared the pile of lumber, he stopped long enough to admire his wife’s backside as she bent over and laid quilts on the ground.
He wished he knew how to keep the fear out of her eyes—permanently.
They ate their meals in silence except for the conversation Austin provided. Dallas could never think of a single thing to say to his wife. It reminded him of when he had first started writing to Amelia. His first letter had only been a few lines. By the end of the year, he had been sharing whole pages of his life with her. He’d thought about writing a letter to Cordelia, but that seemed the coward’s way out. He needed to learn how to say the kind of words that put a softness in a woman’s eyes, the kind of softness Amelia wore every time she looked at Houston.
He carried several boards to the frame structure, set them in place, knelt beside one, and removed the nails from his mouth. “Houston, when you and Amelia were traveling here … what did you talk about?”
Houston pounded a nail into a board that would serve as flooring and shrugged. “Whatever she wanted to talk about.”
Dallas clamped down on his frustration. “What did she want to talk about?”
Houston tipped his hat up off his brow. “You, mostly. She was always asking questions about the ranch, the kind of man you were, the house.”
“You must not have told her the truth about the house if she came anyway,” Austin said.
Dallas swung his gaze around. “What’s wrong with my house?”
Austin wiped the smile from his face and looked at Houston. Houston shook his head and gave him a “you should have kept your mouth shut this time” look. Then he started pounding a nail into the board.
“What’s wrong with my house?” Dallas asked again.
“Uh, well, uh … it’s big,” Austin explained.
“Of course it’s big. I intend to have a large family.”
“Well, then, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Austin said. He handed Maggie a nail. “Maggie May, hold it right here for your Uncle Austin.”
Dallas glared at his brother, trying to make sense out of what he’d just heard. “Your comment had nothing to do with the size of my house. I want to know what you meant.”
Austin slammed his eyes closed and blew out a quick breath before meeting Dallas’s gaze. “It doesn’t look like a house. It’s … it’s …” He shifted his gaze to Houston, who had stopped his hammering.
Dallas thought his brother might be searching for courage. He knew his house was unusual.
Austin looked back at Dallas. “I think it’s downright ugly. There, I said it, but that’s just what I think. Houston might think otherwise.”
Houston narrowed his eye. “Keep me outta this conversation, boy.”
Dallas felt as though a herd of cattle had just trampled him. “Do you agree with him?” he asked Houston.
Houston clenched his jaw. “It’s different. That’s all. It’s just different. It’s not what I’d want to live in—”
“Food’s ready!” Amelia called.
“Thank God,” Houston said as he stood. “I’m starving. How about you, pumpkin?” Maggie squealed as he swung her into the air.
Dallas unfolded his body and grabbed Austin’s arm before he could escape. “Why didn’t you ever say anything before?”
