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Dallas could not have spoken truer words. Boyd McQueen had possessed a temperament that hinted the devil had spawned him, while Dee had the disposition of an angel.

“I have marble cake waiting in the kitchen,” Amelia announced. “We need to eat up so we can enjoy it while it’s still warm.”

Warm cake and stew, the constant smiles and innocent ways of children. Austin had taken them for granted in his youth, but he was determined to appreciate them from this moment on.

Night had fallen by the time Austin stood on the veranda and watched the wagon filled with Houston’s family lumber north. A crescent moon smiled in the black sky, stars winking on either side of it. “I can’t believe Houston has a whole passel of girls,” Austin said.

Turning his gaze in the direction of the retreating wagon, Dallas leaned against the beam. “I think another one might be on the way. Amelia didn’t eat much tonight.”

“What about you and Dee? You gonna have any more?”

Dallas slowly shook his head. “Nope. Faith was a miracle we weren’t expecting. Reckon a man should consider himself the luckiest of men if he has one miracle in his life.”

Austin understood miracles. He had one of his own waiting for him. “Think I’m gonna ride into town.”

A silence permeated the air, thick, hovering, as though something needed to be said.

Permission, Austin decided. He was waiting for Dallas to give him permission to leave only he didn’t require his brother’s consent any longer.

He was a grown man, free to come and go as he chose. He stepped off the veranda.

“Becky’s married,” Dallas said quietly.

Austin felt as though someone had plowed a tightly balled fist into his gut.

Unable to draw air into his lungs, he feared his knees might buckle.

He wrapped his arm around the beam to keep from stumbling down the remaining steps.

Swallowing hard, he forced the words past the painful knot that had formed in his throat. “Becky Oliver?”

Dallas faced him squarely. “Yeah.”

“Who’d she marry?”

“Cameron.”

Cameron McQueen? Dee’s brother? Austin swallowed the burning bile that had risen in his throat. “When?”

“About two years ago.”

Austin glared at his brother. “Why in the hell didn’t you mention that little bit of news in your letters?”

“I didn’t figure prison was the best place for you to learn about it.”

“You could have told me at any time during the past few days.”

“Didn’t see any reason to ruin your homecoming.”

His homecoming? Without Becky he had no homecoming. He leapt off the porch and hit the ground with a purpose to his stride.

“Where are you going?” Dallas called after him.

“Wherever I damn well want to go,” Austin threw over his shoulder as he stalked toward the barn.

He’d never saddled a horse more quickly nor ridden as hard as he rode now. Black Thunder’s pounding hooves ate up the distance between Austin … and Becky.

As the dim lantern lights of Leighton came into view, burning into the night, Austin jerked back on the reins. The stallion protested the rough treatment and reared up, his neigh echoing over the vast plains. Austin regained control and patted the horse’s sweating neck. “Sorry, old man.”

He shifted his gaze toward the town. He could make out the silhouette of Dee’s Grand Hotel.

And the train depot. The railroad tracks had reached the town while he’d been in prison.

He saw the outline of buildings he didn’t recognize, streets, houses, a town …

a town he’d once known … a town that was now achingly unfamiliar.

And somewhere within that town, beneath the shadows of the night, Becky was lying within the arms of another man.

The pain slashed through him, intense, overpowering.

And the tears he’d held at bay for five long, torturous years finally broke free. Bowing his head, he dug his fingers into his thighs as the sobs wrenched his body.

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 read OLIVER’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.

He nodded briskly. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Abruptly, he spun on his heel and strode through the alley until he reached the boardwalk. He’d never felt more lost in his life.

Although the family had welcomed him home with open arms, he no longer felt a part of them. His brothers had wives, children, and successful businesses. And what did Austin have? Nothing but a tarnished reputation that he should have never possessed.

Stalking down the boardwalk, he was surprised his feet didn’t split the boards with the weight of his anger as he headed toward the far end of town where the saloon beckoned.

Smoke thickened the air as he stormed through the swinging doors of the saloon. A huge gilded mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar reflected the patrons who occupied the chairs or stood against the walls.

He felt gazes boring into him, and even in the din of male voices and raucous laughter, he thought he heard people harshly whispering his name.

He ambled toward the crowded bar and hooked the heel of his boot on the brass railing that ran the length of the bar.

The men closest to him sidled away like he had festering sores covering him.

He slapped a coin on the counter. “Whiskey.”

The bartender picked up a glass and poured the amber brew, his gaze never leaving Austin. It had always amazed Austin that Beau could serve drinks and never once look to see what he was doing.

“Heard you’d be home soon,” Beau said as he eyed Austin warily.

“Well, you heard right.” Austin crossed his arms on the bar and leaned forward slightly.

Beau set the full glass in front of him. “I don’t want no trouble in here.”

“I don’t plan to start any,” Austin assured him.