Page 4 of Texas Splendor
Becky had deserted him when he had needed her the most … and he hadn’t even known it.
Memories drew Austin to the general store. Businesses had sprung up on either side of the false-fronted building where Becky Oliver had worked with her father. He resented every structure that smelled of new wood, resented that little had remained the same.
He halted his horse and glared at the sign that still readOLIVER’S GENERAL STORE. Becky had lived in the rooms above. Pale light spilled through the upstairs windows so Austin figured she still lived there—with Cameron.
He dismounted, tethered his horse to the railing, and walked along the alley between the two buildings. He spotted the landing where he’d kissed Becky for the first time. Had Cameron kissed her there? His gut clenched with the thought.
He heard the bump of a crate hitting the ground. As he rounded the corner, within the light cast by the lantern hanging on the back wall of the store, he saw Cameron McQueen heft a wooden crate from the wagon, stack it next to the back door, and reach for another one. If he and Cameron were still friends, he would have given him a hard time about the starched white apron he wore over his crisp white shirt.
Cameron reached for another box, then stilled as though sensing another’s presence. He glanced over his shoulder, his blond hair falling across his brow. With his gaze wary, he approached slowly. “Austin, it’s good to see you.”
“I’ll just bet.” Austin slammed his knotted fist into Cameron’s face. Cameron staggered back and hit the ground with a sickening thud that sounded like a crate of tomatoes bursting open.
“Get up, you sorry son of a bitch!”
Working his jaw back and forth, Cameron rolled over. “I’m not gonna fight you.”
“You don’t have to fight me, but at least give me the satisfaction of pounding you into the ground.”
Cameron pushed himself to his knees, close enough to standing as far as Austin was concerned. He hit him again and sent him sprawling back to the ground. “You were my best friend, damn you! I trusted you!”
Cameron squinted at him, blood trailing along his cheek. “Honest to God, I tried not to love her.”
“Not good enough. Stand up.”
Cameron struggled to his feet and stood, his arms dangling at his sides like the useless broken blades on a windmill.
“At least put your hands up, give me some satisfaction,” Austin commanded.
Cameron shook his head. “You wanna beat the crap out of me, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”
Impotent rage surged through Austin. He’d beat the crap out of him, all right—and then some. He brought his arm back—
“Cameron!” the sweetest voice called.
Austin snapped his head around. The light from the lantern illuminated Becky as she stood in the doorway, holding a tow-headed boy close against her breast.
She was the prettiest thing he’d ever set eyes on. The stolen years began melting away, just as he’d known they would.
“Pa!” the boy cried, squirming in his mother’s arms.
The years came crashing back with a vengeance. She wasn’t Becky Oliver, his girl. She was Becky McQueen, his best friend’s wife.
“Cameron, aren’t you finished yet?” she asked softly.
Austin realized then that the shadows hid him, that the lantern light wasn’t touching him. From where she stood, Becky couldn’t see him or the blood trailing down Cameron’s face.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Cameron said quietly, keeping his profile to her.
“Well, don’t take too long. Supper’s getting cold.” She disappeared into the store, and Austin knew she was probably climbing the indoor stairs that led to the second floor, to the home she shared with Cameron.
“Honest to God, Austin, I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way,” Cameron said, his voice low.
Austin took a menacing step toward him. Cameron flinched but didn’t back away. “Think on this,” Austin said, his voice seething with the pain of betrayal. “She loved me first.”
“Believe me, that thought haunts me night and day.”
Austin wished he’d just hit Cameron again and kept his mouth shut. He’d wanted to hurt the man, and he knew by the despair that had plunged into Cameron’s blue eyes that he had succeeded. He didn’t know why that knowledge brought him no satisfaction but only served to increase his anger over a situation that he was unable to change.
