Page 18 of Texas Splendor
“You trust him enough to drop his britches, you might trust him with our secret.”
“He has no interest in anything around here. He just wants to get his horse healed so he can move on. He’s been a perfect gentleman. He chopped wood for me—”
“I coulda chopped wood for you.”
Smiling softly, she touched the nick on his chin, remembering when he’d ridden over after his first shave, wanting to show it off. “You can’t always watch out for me.”
Dewayne blushed and ducked his head. At moments like this she found it difficult to look at him and not see what her brother might have been as a man. He had only been fourteen when the killer had hanged him from the rafters. Only fourteen. How often had she wished she had been the one to die, and he the one to live?
“Then why don’t you move to town, Loree?”
“I like living here.” In her self-imposed exile, her punishment for what had happened that night and all that had followed.
“But what if some fella stops by who ain’t a gentleman?”
“I have my rifle and Digger. Remember how he attacked you the first time you showed up after I’d found him?”
Dewayne laughed. “I still got the scars on my calf. You sure it was the man’s horse and not Digger that bit him?”
Loree tilted her head in thought. “Oddly enough, he only growled at Mr. Leigh. He didn’t attack him.”
“Maybe Digger is getting to be like you. Too trusting.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “No, he chased away a man in a medicine show wagon last week. I think Digger would attack anyone he thought would harm me.”
“Well, if the storm didn’t do any damage here, then I reckon I’ll head home. If that fella’s still around tonight, you bolt the door.”
Simply to appease him, she said, “I will.”
She walked outside with him, hugged him as she always did—the way she had hugged her brother—and watched him mount his horse and ride away. Then she strolled over to the man who was brushing his stallion near the corral.
“Dewayne meant no offense,” she said quietly.
“None taken.” He stopped brushing his horse and met her gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me someone had murdered your family?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d lied?”
“It’s not the same.”
“How is it different?”
“It just is.” He walked around his horse and began brushing the other side as though he needed to put distance between them. “I told you I served time in prison for murder.” His hand stilled, his blue gaze capturing hers. “I’m not a murderer.”
Her throat tightened. She knew he spoke the truth. He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. Remembering the puckered flesh on his shoulder—a scar similar to the one she possessed—the kind of scar a healing bullet wound left behind, she imagined he had killed in self-defense, shooting the man who had shot him. “I know that. You don’t have the eyes of a murderer.”
He seemed to relax as though she’d lifted a burden from his shoulders. “Who did he hang?” he asked, his voice low.
Loree stumbled back, her heart racing. “What?”
“There’s a rope dangling from the rafters in the barn.”
She had to give Austin Leigh credit. He didn’t miss much. Dewayne had cut her brother down. Until last night, she’d never found the courage to return to the barn, much less remove the rope that had taken her brother’s life. “My brother. He dragged us to the barn, tied us up, and hanged my brother before shooting the rest of us.”
Horror delved into the depths of his eyes. “He shot you?”
Oddly enough, his reaction told her more about him than anything else. He wasn’t a man who would hurt a woman.
“Yes, but he didn’t check to make certain I was dead. I guess since I’m so small, he assumed one bullet would be sufficient.”
