Maggie.”
Dallas walked down the hallway. He quietly opened the door to his office and peered inside. He didn’t want to startle his niece if she had a lemon drop in her mouth.
He heard paper rattle and smiled. He so loved that little girl.
With Houston and Amelia following in his wake, he crept across the room and waited beside his desk until her heard the paper crackle again, a sign that she’d finished one lemon drop and was reaching for another. He’d taught her not to put more than one in her mouth at a time.
He quickly moved behind his desk and dropped to his haunches. “Caught you!”
A piercing scream ricocheted through the room. Dallas stared at his wife, hunched over beneath his desk. She screamed again.
Maggie yelled, her tiny hands waving frantically. The kitten hissed and slashed a paw through the air.
Dallas reached for his wife. Drawing back, screaming again, she kicked him in the shin. He grunted. Maggie started to cry. The cat made a puddle on the floor.
Houston shoved him aside, and Dallas landed hard on his backside.
“Shh. Shh. It’s all right,” Houston cooed in a voice that Dallas had often heard him use to calm horses. “It’s all right. No one is in trouble. No one is going to get hurt. Shh. Shh.”
Maggie crawled out from beneath the desk and into Houston’s arms. Houston passed her up to Amelia.
With tears streaming her face, Maggie looked at Dallas with accusation in her green eyes. “We had a sad!”
Dallas felt like a monster as he brought himself to his feet. Houston was holding his hand out to Cordelia. “Come on, Cordelia. It’s all right. Dallas doesn’t mind that you ate his lemon drops.”
He watched as his wife cautiously peeked out from beneath the desk. It didn’t ease his conscience to see that she’d been crying, too. She allowed Houston to help her to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she swiped at the tears glistening on her cheeks.
“It was my fault,” Dallas said. “I shouldn’t have …” He shouldn’t have what? Tried to tease his niece? How in the hell was he to know his wife would crawl—
Thundering footsteps echoed down the hallway and Cordelia’s three brothers burst into the room, Cameron waving a gun through the air. “Get the hell away from her, you bastard!” Cameron yelled.
“Cameron—” Cordelia began but Dallas held up a hand to silence her.
He moved around the desk and slowly walked toward her brother, putting himself between those behind the desk and the gun, since neither Boyd nor Duncan seemed inclined to try to take the weapon from Cameron.
“Give me the gun, Cameron,” Dallas said in a low, calm voice.
He shook his head. “I’m not gonna let you hurt my sister.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I heard her scream. I know the sound of her scream.”
He waved the gun to his right, and Dallas stepped in front of it. “I frightened her,” Dallas said. “It won’t happen again.”
Cameron turned a sickly shade of green and sweat popped out on his brow. Dallas reached for the gun.
“I won’t hurt her,” he repeated.
“Give me your word,” Cameron rasped, the shaking of his hand increasing.
“I give you my word,” Dallas said as he snatched the gun from Cameron’s grasp.
Cameron doubled over and brought up his dinner.
As the others in the room gagged and moaned, Dallas leapt back and ground his teeth together. Wonderful. Now he had vomit
and
piss to clean up.
Cordelia rushed past him and pressed her fingers to Cameron’s brow. “Oh, Cameron.”
“I’m all right, Dee,” he said, wiping his sleeve across his mouth and averting his gaze from Dallas.
Dallas glared at Boyd. “McQueen, wish your sister well, gather up your brothers, and get the hell out of my sight.”
Cordelia eyed him as though he were a snake. “Cameron can’t leave. He’s sick.”
“He can throw up outside as easily as he can inside.”
“You’re heartless,” she said.
“I’m all right now,
Dallas walked down the hallway. He quietly opened the door to his office and peered inside. He didn’t want to startle his niece if she had a lemon drop in her mouth.
He heard paper rattle and smiled. He so loved that little girl.
With Houston and Amelia following in his wake, he crept across the room and waited beside his desk until her heard the paper crackle again, a sign that she’d finished one lemon drop and was reaching for another. He’d taught her not to put more than one in her mouth at a time.
He quickly moved behind his desk and dropped to his haunches. “Caught you!”
A piercing scream ricocheted through the room. Dallas stared at his wife, hunched over beneath his desk. She screamed again.
Maggie yelled, her tiny hands waving frantically. The kitten hissed and slashed a paw through the air.
Dallas reached for his wife. Drawing back, screaming again, she kicked him in the shin. He grunted. Maggie started to cry. The cat made a puddle on the floor.
Houston shoved him aside, and Dallas landed hard on his backside.
“Shh. Shh. It’s all right,” Houston cooed in a voice that Dallas had often heard him use to calm horses. “It’s all right. No one is in trouble. No one is going to get hurt. Shh. Shh.”
Maggie crawled out from beneath the desk and into Houston’s arms. Houston passed her up to Amelia.
With tears streaming her face, Maggie looked at Dallas with accusation in her green eyes. “We had a sad!”
Dallas felt like a monster as he brought himself to his feet. Houston was holding his hand out to Cordelia. “Come on, Cordelia. It’s all right. Dallas doesn’t mind that you ate his lemon drops.”
He watched as his wife cautiously peeked out from beneath the desk. It didn’t ease his conscience to see that she’d been crying, too. She allowed Houston to help her to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she swiped at the tears glistening on her cheeks.
“It was my fault,” Dallas said. “I shouldn’t have …” He shouldn’t have what? Tried to tease his niece? How in the hell was he to know his wife would crawl—
Thundering footsteps echoed down the hallway and Cordelia’s three brothers burst into the room, Cameron waving a gun through the air. “Get the hell away from her, you bastard!” Cameron yelled.
“Cameron—” Cordelia began but Dallas held up a hand to silence her.
He moved around the desk and slowly walked toward her brother, putting himself between those behind the desk and the gun, since neither Boyd nor Duncan seemed inclined to try to take the weapon from Cameron.
“Give me the gun, Cameron,” Dallas said in a low, calm voice.
He shook his head. “I’m not gonna let you hurt my sister.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I heard her scream. I know the sound of her scream.”
He waved the gun to his right, and Dallas stepped in front of it. “I frightened her,” Dallas said. “It won’t happen again.”
Cameron turned a sickly shade of green and sweat popped out on his brow. Dallas reached for the gun.
“I won’t hurt her,” he repeated.
“Give me your word,” Cameron rasped, the shaking of his hand increasing.
“I give you my word,” Dallas said as he snatched the gun from Cameron’s grasp.
Cameron doubled over and brought up his dinner.
As the others in the room gagged and moaned, Dallas leapt back and ground his teeth together. Wonderful. Now he had vomit
and
piss to clean up.
Cordelia rushed past him and pressed her fingers to Cameron’s brow. “Oh, Cameron.”
“I’m all right, Dee,” he said, wiping his sleeve across his mouth and averting his gaze from Dallas.
Dallas glared at Boyd. “McQueen, wish your sister well, gather up your brothers, and get the hell out of my sight.”
Cordelia eyed him as though he were a snake. “Cameron can’t leave. He’s sick.”
“He can throw up outside as easily as he can inside.”
“You’re heartless,” she said.
“I’m all right now,
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