Page 85 of Texas Glory
Sitting in a rocking chair on the veranda, Cordelia closed her eyes and listened as the music circled her on the wind. The crescendo rose, grew bolder, louder until she could envision a man galloping across the plains, dust billowing up behind him …
“Dallas,” she said softly and peered through one eye at Austin.
Smiling broadly, he stilled the bow. “Yep.”
She closed her eye. “Give me another one.”
Dallas had escorted her home and then gone to check on his herd. Austin had joined her on the veranda, the violin tucked beneath his chin as he played tunes of his own creation, melodies that he based on the characteristics of people whom he knew.
She had guessed every song correctly so far—Houston, Amelia, Maggie, Dallas—but this melody was different. It carried no pattern. Strong for one moment, weak, weak, growing weaker with each note.
She opened her eyes, jumped to her feet, rushed to the edge of the veranda, and waved at her brother as he approached. “Cameron!”
“That’s right,” Austin said as he stopped playing.
Cordelia jerked her head around. “What?”
“That worthless song was Cameron.” He shot to his feet and turned toward the house.
“Austin!” Cameron cried as he brought his horse to a halt and dismounted.
Austin swung around. “What?”
Cameron placed a foot on the step, then returned it to the dirt as though he wasn’t certain if he was welcome. His gaze darted to Dee, then back to Austin. “I know you’re angry.”
“Damn right, I’m angry. When I can’t be with Becky, you’re supposed to take care of her for me. That’s what friends are for.”
Cameron blushed beneath his hat. “She was dancing with my brother. How was I supposed to know—”
“You should have known, that’s all. The minute he took her off to the shadows you should have known. She won’t be seventeen until next month. Duncan has to be on the far side of thirty—too old and too experienced for her.”
Cordelia stepped cautiously across the porch. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Austin said, “because I stopped it.” He pointed his bow at Cameron. “And you can tell your sorry excuse for a brother that if he touches her again, I’ll kill him.”
“Think he figured that out when you broke his nose.”
“You broke Duncan’s nose?” Cordelia asked in shock.
“I would have broken his whole face, but Becky stopped me.” Austin stalked into the house.
Cameron plopped onto the step, planted his elbow onto his thigh and his chin against his fist. Cordelia sat beside him and took his hand.
He turned his palm over and threaded his fingers through hers before looking at her with such a baleful expression that she nearly wept.
“You ever wonder how our family came to be the way it is? Pa ain’t feeling poorly. He’s drunk most of the time. Boyd’s got so much hatred in him that he gets downright ugly for no reason. I think Duncan’s straddling a fence. He can’t decide whether to set out on his own or follow Boyd.”
“What did he do last night?”
“Took Becky out behind the general store and tried to force his affections on her. Austin was playing music for folks—” Cameron shook his head. “And I was a girl.”
“A girl?”
“Yeah, there ain’t enough girls around so we had to draw bandannas out of a hat. If we pulled a red one, we had to tie it around our sleeve and be the woman. I nearly got my boots danced off.”
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Is that why you weren’t watching Becky? Too busy dancing?”
“Maybe.”
