Lorraine Heath (23 page)

He swallowed hard and gave her a nod, not wanting to disappoint her after she’d worked so hard. He slid his hands beneath hers.

“His head is kinda wobbly so be sure you hold it.”

“Won’t fall off or nothing, will it?” he asked.

She laughed with joy. “No.”

He brought the boy into the crook of his arm. “Hello there, young fella.”

The babe blinked his blue eyes.

“He’s looking at me, Loree. Look at that.” He tilted the baby toward her. “He’s looking at me. You think he knows who I am?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Can I show him to Houston and Dallas?” he asked, feeling like a child with a new toy.

“I don’t see why not.”

With the greatest of care, he stood and turned toward the door. His brothers were already standing there, grinning almost as much as he was. “I’ve got a son. Can you believe that? A son.”

He looked over his shoulder at Loree. “What are we gonna name him?”

She licked her lips. “I’d like to name him after my family—Grant.”

“Grant,” Austin repeated. “I like it.”

That night after everyone left, while Loree listened with tears in her eyes, Austin played his violin, lulling his son to sleep with a song that bore his name.

T
he cool breeze blew over the front porch as Loree rocked, her son cradled within her arms. Three weeks had passed since his birth, and she didn’t think she’d ever anticipated the coming of spring more.

She heard the rumble of carriage wheels and glanced up from her sleeping son’s face. She smiled and waved as Becky brought the horses to a halt.

Loree sent the spark of jealousy she usually felt when she first saw Becky to oblivion. She had given Austin the one thing Becky never had: a son.

Becky bounced up the steps and leaned over, slipping the baby shawl away from Grant’s cheek. “Isn’t he precious?” Becky whispered. Smiling broadly she met Loree’s gaze. “I think he looks like Austin.”

“He has his eyes,” Loree admitted. “When they’re open.”

Becky straightened and leaned against the porch railing. “I always thought Austin had the prettiest eyes—too pretty for a man really.” She sighed as though blowing away a memory.

“Would you like something to drink?” Loree offered as she started to rise.

Becky placed her hand on her shoulder and guided her back down. “Don’t get up. I just brought you a few things. I wanted to come sooner but Drew got the chicken pox. Then Cameron got them. I’ve never seen anyone as sick as he was. I wanted to wait until I was certain I wouldn’t bring them out here, but it was hard not to come.”

“I appreciate your coming out.”

Becky smiled. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for Austin.” Her smile grew. “You should have seen him, strutting through the town, passing out cigars. I’ve never seen him so proud and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him so happy. It did my heart good to see that.”

She gazed off into the distance. “I always felt so guilty.”

“For marrying Cameron?”

Becky shifted her gaze back to Loree. “No. For not telling people that Austin was with me the night Boyd McQueen was murdered.”

Loree felt her heart slam against her ribs, and the blood drain from her face. Becky’s eyes widened.

“Oh my goodness. Didn’t he tell you? I was certain he would have, you being his wife and all. I’m so sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. Let me get the items I brought out of the buggy.”

Loree surged to her feet and dug her fingers into Becky’s arm to halt her leaving. “Why … why would people care that he was with you the night Boyd McQueen died?”

“If they knew he was with me, then they might have believed that he hadn’t killed Boyd.”

Loree released her hold on Becky and sank into the rocker. “Boyd McQueen? He went to prison for killing Boyd McQueen?”

“Surely you knew that,” Becky said.

Loree shook her head. “I knew he’d gone to prison for murder. He never told me the name of the man he was supposed to have murdered. I never thought to ask.”

“Well, let me tell you right here and now that he did not murder Boyd McQueen.”

Loree lifted her gaze to Becky. “I know that. With all my heart I know that.”

Austin sauntered into the house, the first flowers of spring clutched in his hand. He spotted Loree sitting in a rocker before the empty hearth, rocking back and fourth.

He knelt beside her, the sadness in her eyes causing a knot to form in his chest. “Where’s Grant?”

“Sleeping in his cradle.”

He extended his gift toward her. “I brought you some flowers.”

She shifted her vacant gaze to his hand. “You were innocent.”

Reaching across, he grabbed the arm of the rocker and turned the chair so he could see her more clearly. “Pardon me?”

She lifted dull eyes to his. “Becky came by today.”

“Did she say something to upset you?”

She shook her head slightly, tears brimming within her eyes, and she touched her trembling fingers to his shadowed cheek. “You went to prison for killing Boyd McQueen. I didn’t know. All these years, I didn’t know.”

“All these years? Sugar, you’ve known me less than a year. If I never mentioned his name, it was because I didn’t figure it would mean anything to you.”

“I didn’t know you were innocent.”

“I told you I wasn’t a murderer.”

“I thought you meant you hadn’t killed anyone in cold blood. I thought it had been self-defense.”

“And you married me anyway, thinking I’d killed someone?”

“It was your eyes, your dang blue eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a killer.”

He smiled warmly. “There, see. You did know. You just didn’t listen to your heart. I was doing the same thing with my music. Not listening.”

“They beat you in prison, didn’t they?”

“Loree, that’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve got you and Grant—”

“Who gave you that cut on your back? The one I tended.”

He gave a deep sigh wondering why she was hanging onto this discovery like a starving dog with a bone. “Duncan McQueen. Boyd’s brother. We got into a fight right after I got out of prison. Seems he thinks I should have hanged.”

“Is he the one who attacked you the night of the play?”

“I don’t know who attacked me that night. It was dark.”

“But it could have been him—”

“What does it matter—”

She shot out of the rocker like a bullet fired from a gun and turned on him. “It matters. God, you don’t know how much it matters and you’d hate me if you did.”

She ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. He heard his son give a pitiful wail. Silence quickly followed, and he knew instinctively that Loree had carried his son to her breast.

Right now he wouldn’t mind being held to Loree’s breast, comforted, and loved.

He looked at the sagging flowers in his hand and somehow felt as though they reflected his life.

Austin knocked on the door and waited an eternity for Becky to open it. “What exactly did you tell Loree?”

Becky grimaced and groaned. “I told her we were together the night Boyd was killed.”

Austin cursed harshly and jerked his hat from his hat.

“I thought she knew!”

“Thought who knew what?” Cameron said as he came to stand in the doorway.

Austin watched the blood drain from Becky’s face.

“I thought Loree knew that Austin was with me the night Boyd died.”

Cameron’s cheeks flamed red and he averted his gaze. “Oh.”

“I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment, Becky, but is that all you said?”

“That’s all I said.”

“You didn’t say anything specific, anything that might have … hurt her?”

“Nothing. I am so sorry.”

Austin settled his hat onto his head. “It’s not your fault. For some reason, this damn thing won’t go away.”

“You and Loree break a fence?” Houston asked.

Austin glanced toward the front porch of Houston’s house where his wife sat in the rocker. He couldn’t tell if she was talking to Amelia. Damn he wished she’d talk to someone.

He hefted the board for Houston’s new corral and held it in place while Houston hammered one end to the post and Dallas hammered into the other end. “I don’t know what happened. It makes no sense to me. She married me, thinking I’d killed someone. She found out I didn’t and now she won’t talk to me. I can’t figure it out.”

“That’s ‘cuz she’s a woman,” Dallas said around the nail protruding from his mouth. He removed it from between his teeth and pointed it at Austin’s nose. “You can’t figure women out so don’t even try. I was married to Dee for weeks before I realized when she said something was fine—it wasn’t fine at all.”

“But wouldn’t you be happy if you discovered that you weren’t married to a murderer?” Austin insisted.

“It’s the baby,” Houston said.

Austin jerked his head around and glared at Houston. “What’s Grant got to do with it?”

Houston gave the nail a final whack and stepped back to inspect his work before waving the hammer at Austin. “Whenever Amelia has a baby, she gets …” He scraped his thumb over the scars on the left side of his face, just below the leather eye patch. “She gets … difficult. Yep, that’s the best way to describe it.”

“Can’t imagine Amelia being difficult,” Dallas said. “She wasn’t when I was married to her.”

“She didn’t give you any young ‘uns either. Trust me. She gets difficult.”

“In what way?” Austin asked, thinking maybe Houston had hit upon his problem.

“Well, as you know Gracie was born in November. About a week after she was born, Amelia hollers for me. Almost broke my neck gettin’ to her, and you know what she wanted?”

Austin glanced at Dallas who was shaking his head.

“She wanted me to sit down right then and there and order Christmas presents from the Montgomery Ward catalog. Got it into her head that we had to order them that day or they wouldn’t get here in time. Had to take the blasted order into the post office in Leighton—that day mind you. It didn’t matter that I had horses to work—”

“You coulda just told her no,” Dallas said.

Houston looked at Dallas as though the man had gone loco. “I suppose you tell Dee no all the time.”

“Never tell her no, but we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you—”

“Actually, we’re talking about me,” Austin reminded his brothers with disgust.

They both snapped their attention to him. Houston rubbed the side of his nose. “That’s right.” He squinted. “How’d she find out she was wrong about you after all this time?”

Austin dropped his gaze and kicked the toe of his boot into the dirt. “Becky. She visited Loree and somehow it came up in conversation that she and I were together that night.”

“She’s probably just feeling slighted then,” Dallas said.

“Why would she feel slighted? That was six years ago—”

“Like I said earlier, you can’t figure women out. They make no sense.”

“Then what do I do about it?”

“Talk to Dee.”

“Talk to Amelia.”

His brothers offered their advice at the same time, and he wondered why they hadn’t just told him that to begin with.

“You’re both useless, you know that?” he said.

“Well, this might cheer you up,” Dallas said. “I got a telegram from Wylan. He was playing in a private poker game and Boyd’s name came up. Something about cheating someone out of some land. So he’s gonna see what else he can find.”

Austin shook his head. “I’m sure he’s a good man, but after this long, he’s not gonna find anything. Whatever trails were left behind are nothing more than dust in the wind now.”

“I don’t want to go,” Loree insisted.

Austin sighed heavily. “Dee says you need to get out of the house—”

“I got out of the house last Sunday when you went to help Houston with his corral,” she pointed out.

She watched him work his jaw back and forth. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to tell him the truth and ask him for forgiveness. But what if he were unable to forgive her?

He held the tickets toward her. “This is a special performance. They’re only going to be in the theater tonight. Amelia offered to watch Grant—”

“And what if someone attacks you—”

Sympathy filled his eyes and he cradled her face. “Is that what’s worrying you? Now that you understand why I was attacked, you’re afraid I’ll get hurt?”

She nodded briskly. “Let’s just stay here, Austin.”

“Sugar, don’t you see? If we hide out here, then whoever attacked me has won. Whoever killed Boyd has won. And I’m not gonna let either of those bastards run my life.”

She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t go.”

She expected further protests, but instead she only heard the echo of his boot heels as he left the room. She could stop people from staring at him. She could stop people from whispering about him. She could stop people from attacking him. But she couldn’t give him back the five years she had unknowingly stolen from him. And without that, what good were the others?

She heard the sharp brief whine of the violin and spun around. Austin stood in the doorway, instrument in hand.

“Please?” He gave three quick strokes to the strings. “Please? Please? Please?”

She bit back her smile. “No.”

Three more quick strokes as he stepped into the room. “I’ll have to play something sad.” A forlorn sound filled the room. “And I’d rather play something happy.” He played a quick fast tune. “Give me a reason to play something happy.”

For him, she forced herself to set her fears aside. “All right.”

He whooped, tossed the violin onto the bed, clamped his hands on her waist, and lifted her toward the ceiling. “You’ll be glad, Sugar.”

She looked into his beloved face, his shining blue eyes, and wished to God that she’d never fallen in love with him.

The lobby was nearly empty when they arrived, and Loree couldn’t have been more grateful as Austin took her hand and rushed up the sweeping staircase to the balcony level.

He drew back the drapes and she stepped into the dark alcove. She barely made out Dee’s silhouette as the woman turned, smiled, and motioned them over. Loree eased down to the chair beside Dee.

Dee squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you could come. This is a special performance.”

Austin leaned forward. “What play is it anyway?”

Dee’s smile grew. “It’s not a play.”

The stage curtains parted to reveal a group of people sitting in a half circle, instruments poised. Loree’s breath caught as Austin wrapped his hand around hers and shifted up in his chair.

A man walked onto the stage, bowed sharply from the waist, then stepped onto a box. He lifted a long thin stick, swept it through the air, and music reached up to the rafters.

Austin’s hand closed more tightly around hers, and she knew he had spoken the truth. She was glad that she came, glad that she’d given him the opportunity to hear a symphony. She eased up in the chair, tears stinging her eyes at the sight of awe and wonder revealed on his face.

“Look at all those violins,” he whispered. “They’re all moving the same, like a herd of cattle heading to pasture.”

“They’re following the same music.”

“Reading those little black bugs. How long do you think it took them to learn to play together like that?”

“Years.”

“It’s mighty fine sounding, ain’t it?” he asked.

She brushed her fingers through his hair and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Mighty fine.”