Page 52 of Texas Glory
The boy slapped some coins on the counter. “My pa’s needin’ some cig’rette makin’s.”
“I’ve got some right back here,” Mr. Oliver said as he disappeared behind the counter.
The boy gazed at the jars of colorful candy that lined the counter. Cordelia didn’t think he could be much older than eight. His black eyes shot back to Mr. Oliver when the man set a pouch of tobacco and some papers on the counter.
“Obliged,” the boy said as he slipped the supplies into his pocket and turned to leave.
“Hold on there a minute, Rawley. You gave me too much,” Mr. Oliver said as he placed a pudgy finger on a copper penny andslidit across the counter.
Rawley looked doubtful as his gaze darted between Mr. Oliver and the penny. Hesitantly, he placed his grubby hand over the penny.
“I’m selling licorice for a penny today,” Mr. Oliver said. “Don’t reckon your pa would miss a penny.”
Rawley shook his head, grabbed the penny, and hurried out the door.
“You should have told him it was free,” Austin said.
Mr. Oliver shook his head. “Tried that. The boy has too much pride to take something for nothing. Beats anything I’ve ever seen. Considering who his pa is, I don’t know how he managed to latch on to any pride.”
“Who is his father?” Cordelia asked.
“One of the workers putting up the buildings, although calling him a worker is giving him the benefit of the doubt. Mostly he just draws his pay and gets drunk.”
“Where is Rawley’s mother?” Cordelia asked.
“Dead, I reckon.”
Austin pulled two sarsaparilla sticks out of a jar. “Put these on my account,” he said as he headed toward the door.
“He won’t take them,” Mr. Oliver called after him.
Austin flashed a disarming grin. “I can be quite charmin’ when I want to be.”
As the door closed behind him, Cordelia backed away from the counter, feeling self-conscious without Austin by her side. “I’m going to look around.”
Mr. Oliver nodded. “You let us know if you need anything.”
Cordelia walked to the far side of the store, not certain what she should do if she did find something she wanted to purchase. She felt vulnerable and lost, like a child who had let go of her mother’s hand in a crowd of people.
She was twenty-six years old, and she had no idea how to purchase a ribbon for her hair. Her father and her brothers had gotten into the habit of bringing everything to her while she had tended to her mother. The habit had remained long after her mother had passed away.
Where once she had felt pampered, she now felt afraid.
She had allowed herself to become dependent on the kindness of her family, and they had pulled that kindness out from under her. She turned toward the soft footfalls.
Becky smiled at her. “Did you find something that you wanted?”
Cordelia wrung her hands together. She supposed she should begin turning Dallas’s house into a home. “I was looking for some rugs.”
“We have some over here,” Becky said.
Cordelia skirted barrels and boxes as she followed Becky to the other side of the store. Becky patted a stack of rugs.
“This is all we have. Just look through them and let me know if you want one.”
Careful not to disturb the pile, Cordelia removed one rug at a time and examined it. She wanted something with brown woven through it, Dallas’s favorite color.
“I sure was surprised when I heard Dallas was going to marry you,” Becky said.
