She gnawed on her lower lip. “I think I saw you at my wedding, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Samson.”
She blushed self-consciously at the sight of his muscles straining against his shirt, the arm hanging at his side that still looked as if it were gripping something. “Samson? The name suits you.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s what my master thought when he named me.”
“You were a slave?”
“Yes, ma’am, surely was.”
She allowed her gaze to roam past him to the open land that stretched toward the horizon. “Freedom is a little frightening, isn’t it, Samson?”
“Yes, ma’am, it surely is, but it brings with it a measure of glory. I remember the first breath of air that I took as a free man. I thought it smelled so much sweeter than anything I’d ever breathed before.”
She linked her fingers together. “I was thinking of picking some flowers.”
“You do that, and when you get out where the flowers are the brightest, you just stop a minute and take a deep breath.”
She smiled shyly. “I will.”
She walked around the side of the barn just as another man was walking out of the barn. She remembered his name because it described him so well and because he had been waiting at the barbed-wire fence for her decision.
“Hello, Slim,” she said hesitantly.
He came to a quick halt and doffed his hat. “Mrs. Leigh.”
Cordelia’s stomach tightened. She thought she might never get used to having that name directed her way. “Is Beauty inside the barn?”
“No, ma’am. I took her back to Houston.”
Disappointment reeled through her. She had so liked the horse.
“You want me to saddle up another horse for you?” Slim asked.
Cordelia shook her head. “No, I’m just going to walk today.”
“Well, you let me know if you want to ride, and I’ll find you a horse.” “Are you married?”
Beneath his dark tan, his face flushed. “No, ma’am.”
“Is anyone around here married?” “Dallas is married, but then I reckon you knew that.”
He smiled as though they were sharing a private joke.
“Yes, I knew that.” She waved her hand before her. “I was just going to walk out there and pick some flowers. Do you think it’s safe?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Just watch out for prairie dog holes. Wouldn’t want you to turn your ankle.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
She walked through the tall prairie grasses, enjoying the feel of the sun warming her face.
Before her accident, her mother had tended a flower garden, the only time she had seemed truly at peace. Years had passed since Cordelia had thought about her mother’s garden, the sweet lilt of her mother’s voice as she had hummed while she tended the flowers, the sharp fragrance of freshly turned soil on her mother’s hands, and the beautiful blossoms that had always adorned each room.
Cordelia bent and plucked a wildflower. She wondered if Dallas would mind if she planted flowers near the veranda. Surely not, if he didn’t mind if she walked beyond the house.
She glanced over her shoulder. The house wasn’t so far away that she couldn’t see it. She could still hear the steady pounding of the blacksmith as he worked.
As though she were a child, she sat on the ground, tilting her head back, and closed her eyes. She had spent long hours reading books to her mother. They had taken Cordelia everywhere that she wasn’t allowed to go while taking her mother to places where she could no longer go.
After her mother had died, Cordelia had continued to retreat into her books. It had been easier than trying to step beyond the boundaries her father had established over the years.
Until she had married Dallas, she had been content with a life that revolved more around fiction than reality. But now she wondered what she may have missed, what did lie beyond her small world.
She only knew that she had no skills when it came to talking to a husband. Each time she looked into his dark brown eyes, her heart sped up, her palms grew damp, and her breath would slowly dwindle away to nothing.
If only he didn’t always seem so angry.
“Well, now, what are you doing?”
She opened her eyes and was greeted with Austin’s smiling face as he hunkered down beside her. He had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen, eyes the shade of the hottest flames that writhed within a fire.
She held up her solitary flower. “I was picking flowers.”
“There are prettier ones farther out.” He stood and held his hand toward her. “Come on.”
She slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her to her feet. As they began to walk, her hand remained nestled within his. She wished she could feel this comfortable around her husband.
Cordelia heard a small bark. She glanced around, but couldn’t see any sign of a dog. The bark came again, a tiny yip.
Austin released her hand and withdrew his gun from its holster.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A prairie dog,” he said as he picked up his pace. “You stay here.”
She had never disobeyed a man’s order before, and she didn’t know what possessed her to disobey now … perhaps it was the pitiful cry that sounded so much like a hurt child or the fact that Austin reminded her of Cameron and she had yet to think of him as a man.
She saw the small brown animal before Austin did, whimpering as its tongue darted out beneath its long snout to lick its paw.
“Oh, no,” she whispered as she rushed forward, knelt beside the small creature, and studied the iron trap that had captured its paw. “Who would do such a thing?”
Austin crouched beside her. “Head on back to the house. I’ll put it out of its misery.”
She snapped her head around. “I don’t think her leg is broken. Her bone isn’t sticking out like Boyd’s did when Dallas broke his arm.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Austin asked.
Cordelia furrowed her brow. “If you can pull the metal sides apart, I could remove her paw from the trap. Then I could take her to the house and tend her wound.”
Austin could do little more than stare at the woman. “It’s a prairie dog,” he reminded her.
Cautiously, she brushed her fingers over its head. “It’s just a baby. Please help her.”
Dee was looking at him with so much hope in her big brown eyes that he couldn’t do what he knew needed to be done. He slipped his gun into his holster. Thank God, she was married to his brother and not to him. Dallas could break her heart. Austin wouldn’t.
Near dusk, Dallas brought his horse to a halt in front of the corral. The flowers he’d pulled from the ground along the way had wilted in his hand. He dismounted, trying to decide if his wife would want them anyway.
“Boss?”
He turned at Slim’s irritated voice.
“We got trouble,” the lanky man said.
Dallas sighed, not at all surprised. One of his wells had run dry, and he had cattle dying on the north end. “What kind of trouble?”
“Prairie dog. Austin took your wife walking, and they found a prairie dog. He let her keep it.”
“He what?”
“He let her take it into the house to doctor it up. Said she was gonna feed it some milk. You ever hear of anything like that? I dadgum guarantee that ain’t gonna sit well with the men. Thought you oughta know.”
The flowers fell from Dallas’s hand. “See after Satan, will you?”
“You’ll get rid of that prairie dog, won’t you?” Slim asked.
“I’ll get rid of it.”
Marrying a woman he didn’t know hadn’t sounded like such a bad idea until he’d done it. What in the hell could she want with a prairie dog?
Dallas strode toward the house. Austin sat on the steps, one long leg stretched out before him, the other serving as a resting place for his violin as he plucked the strings.
“Tell me that we’re having prairie-dog stew for supper,” Dallas commanded.
Austin smiled. “I’d be lying if I said that. Learned long ago that lying only brings trouble.”
“Then what in the hell were you thinking to let her take a prairie dog into the house?” Dallas bellowed.
Austin lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “She ain’t my wife. Didn’t think it was my place to tell her she couldn’t keep it. Figured that decision was yours to make.”
“There’s no decision to make. A prairie dog isn’t a pet. It’s a varmint.”
“You gonna tell her that?”
“Damn right I am.”
“You gonna tell her she can’t keep it?”
“Hell, yes, I’m going to tell her she can’t keep it.”
Austin shook his head. “I sure wouldn’t want to walk into that house wearing your boots.”
“You couldn’t if you wanted. Your feet are too big. Where is she?”
“Last I saw her, she was in the kitchen.”
He marched through the house and strode into the kitchen. With the creature squirming in her lap, Cordelia fidgeted in a straight-backed chair. She jerked her head up.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said on a rushed sigh with obvious relief.
The anger drained right out of him at the sight of her lovely face with no fear in her eyes.
“Here,” she said as she stood and held the varmint toward him. “Hold her.”
“What?”
“Hold her,” she repeated as she shoved the animal into his hands, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the chair. “Sit down.”
Stunned by the urgency in her voice, Dallas sat.
“I cleaned her wound and put some salve on it, but I was having a terrible time trying to wrap her leg,” she explained as she picked a strip of white linen off the floor. “Hold her paw for me so I can dress it. Otherwise, she’ll lick off the salve.”
Dallas fought to hold the animal motionless while Cordelia wound a piece of good clean linen around its wound.
Her hands suddenly stilled, and she looked at him. “Someone set a trap on your land. What sort of cruel person would do that?”
Guilt had him clearing his throat. “Someone who recognized that a prairie dog is dangerous.”
Her hands once again stilled. “How is she dangerous?”
“Because it lives underground and burrows holes across the prairie. A horse drops a leg into that hole, he usually breaks his leg and has to be shot.”
“Then the hole is dangerous, not the prairie dog.”
“That’s like saying a gun is dangerous, not the man holding it.”
“It’s not the same at all.” She finished wrapping the bandage around its paw. “Austin thought I should name her Trouble, but I like the name Precious. What do you think?”
He thought he could get used to carrying on a conversation with her that wasn’t guided by fear, but he had to deal with this unpleasant task first. “Prairie dogs are a cowboy’s worst enemy. You can’t keep it.”
“Why? I’ll keep Precious with me. I won’t let her dig any holes.”
“I need to take the prairie dog outta here.”
She grabbed the animal from his hands and scurried to the corner, hunching her shoulders as though to protect herself and the animal. “What are you going to do with her?” she asked, the apprehension plunging into her eyes.
The dog released a high-pitched yelp. Dallas couldn’t tell the woman he was going to shoot the varmint. He shoved himself to his feet with such force that the chair teetered and toppled to its side. His wife flinched.
“I’ll make it a damn leash, but if it gets off the leash I won’t be responsible for it.”
Dallas stormed through the kitchen door at the back of the house and headed into the barn. He jerked the reins off the wall and stalked to the workroom at the
back of the building. He set the leather strips on the scarred table, unsheathed his knife, and started cutting.
If he ever had any daughters, he was going to teach them how to deal with a rough world. They could cuss, chew tobacco, and drink like a man for all he cared, but they sure as hell weren’t going to be docile creatures afraid of their own shadows or their husbands’ voices.
He heard the muffled footsteps and carved more deeply into the tanned hide.
“So did you break the news to her?” Austin asked as he leaned against the doorway.
“Yep,” Dallas ground out through his clenched teeth as he drilled a ragged hole into the leather with the point of his knife.
“How did she take the news?” Austin asked.
“She took it just fine.”
Austin shook his head. “Sure wish I had your skill with people. I couldn’t think of a way to tell her without breaking her heart.”
He ambled into the room and looked over Dallas’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Working.”
“I can see that. What are you making?”
Dallas tightened his jaw until it ached. “A leash.”
“A leash? For what? That’s so tiny … Good Lord! You’re letting her keep it.”
Dallas spun around and brandished the knife in front of his brother’s face. “Don’t say another word. Not one word. If you value your hide, you’ll wipe that stupid grin off your face and get the hell out of here.”
Holding up his hands, Austin began to back away. “I wouldn’t dream of saying anything.”
But when he was out of sight, his laughter echoed throughout the barn.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
“Ain’t never seen a prairie dog on a leash before,” Houston said.
Dallas slammed a nail into the fresh lumber, hoping that his brother would choke on his strangled laughter.
“A man of vision would open himself up a store in Leighton that sold leashes especially designed for prairie dogs,” Austin added, grinning.
Dallas stopped his hammering and glared at his youngest brother. “If you don’t want your vision hampered by two swollen eyes, you’ll discuss something else.”
“I think Austin has a valid point,” Houston said. “With all the prairie dogs around here, selling leashes could be a booming business, particularly for a man interested in building empires.”
“No doubt about that,” Austin said, “and it doesn’t take Dallas long to put a leash together. The one he made Dee only took about ten minutes, and he wouldn’t have needed that much time if he hadn’t carved the dog’s name into it.”
Houston started to chuckle. “You gotta have the dog’s name on it just in case he loses it. How else would you know who it belongs to?” The laughter he’d been holding in exploded around them.
Austin’s guffaws filled what little space remained for noise. Dallas failed to see the humor in the situation.
“Thought you wanted to add onto your house?” he asked.
He could see Houston struggling to stifle his laughter. He had a strong desire to come to his brother’s aid and hit him up side the head with his hammer.
“I do,” Houston finally managed to say.
“Then we need to stop jawing and get the frame up.”
“You’re right,” Houston admitted, his face growing serious a brief moment before his laughter erupted again. “Good Lord, Dallas, a prairie dog on a leash. I never thought you’d let a woman wrap you around her finger.”
“I’m not wrapped around her finger, and I liked you a lot better when you never laughed.”
Houston’s laughter dwindled. “But I didn’t like me. Didn’t like me at all.”
Dallas knew Houston had held himself in low esteem until Amelia had wrapped herself around his heart. He also knew no wrapping would take place between him and Cordelia … not around his heart, not around her finger. It wasn’t his way.
He unfolded his body. “Let’s ge
t this frame up.”
“It’s so good to hear them laughing, to know they’re enjoying each other’s company,” Amelia said.
Cordelia glanced at the woman standing beside her, her fingers splayed across her stomach, a contented smile on her face.
“When I first came here, they seldom spoke to each other and they never laughed,” Amelia confided quietly.
“Why?” Cordelia asked.
“Guilt and misunderstandings mostly.” As though drawn to painful memories of another time, Amelia released a long, slow sigh before walking to the open mesquite fire where the beef was cooking.
Cordelia watched as the men began to raise the frame that would serve as the structure for the addition to Houston’s house. She was rapidly discovering that Dallas did everything as though he were on a quest for success.
Along with Austin, they had begun their trek long before dawn and had arrived at Houston’s homestead just as dawn whispered over the horizon. Dallas helped her dismount before taking the cup of coffee that Amelia offered him as she stepped onto the porch.
“You know what you want?” he asked Houston as his brother slipped his arm around Amelia and kissed her cheek.
“Yep,” Houston said, handing Dallas a scroll.
Dallas unrolled the parchment and held it up so the day’s new light could shine on it. “Looks like you want to add two rooms to the back and put a loft above them.”
“That’s what Amelia wants.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
And they had. The measuring, the sawing, the pounding of hammers against nails, nails into wood, had echoed over the prairie.
When they finished setting the frame in place, Dallas took his first break. Cordelia held Precious more securely within her arms and watched as Dallas jerked off his hat, pulled his sweat-soaked shirt over his head, and shook like a dog that had just come out of a river. He tossed his shirt over a nearby bush, settled his hat into place, and returned to work. Although he had not spared her a glance since their arrival, she could not take her eyes off him.
His bronzed back glistened, his muscles bunching and stretching as he hefted a board. His long legs made short work of the distance between the pile of lumber and the newly erected frame. He laid the board against the frame and crouched, one hand holding the board in place while the other searched through the grass for his hammer. His trousers pulled tight across his backside. She didn’t think she’d ever noticed how lean his hips were. He reminded her of the top portion of an hour glass: his broad shoulders fanning out, his back tapering down to a narrow waist—
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