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A ustin awoke as he had for several months, long before the sun came up, with his wife curled against his side, her furled hand resting on the center of his bare chest. He loved these first moments of awareness, hearing Loree’s breathing, feeling her warmth, knowing they would be his for the remainder of his life.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and gingerly moved away from her. She sighed softly and shifted over until she was nestled in the spot where he had been. He brought the blankets over her shoulders.

He carried the lamp to the dresser and increased the flame by a hair’s breadth.

He glanced toward the bed. Loree hadn’t stirred.

He turned back to his task and ran his hand over the wooden violin case she’d given him for Christmas.

On the top, someone had carved his name in fancy script.

His gift to her—a small music box—had paled in comparison.

“If you’re not going to play your mother’s violin, you need to keep it protected,” Loree had told him. “Someday, maybe your son will play it.”

His son. He thought of Drew’s tiny fingers and wondered when a child’s fingers would be long enough to play a violin. Houston’s daughter Laurel could probably play. She was five now, but still she’d need a smaller violin.

He imagined the joys of teaching a child the wonders of music.

He could teach his own children … He unfolded one of the sheets of music Loree had given him.

All the black dots looked like bugs crawling over the page.

Reading them was nothing like reading a book. Loree could teach his children to play.

Quietly he donned his clothes and slipped into the hallway.

The house seemed incredibly quiet after all the festivity the night before.

The children had finally fallen asleep around midnight, giving up their quest to actually see Santa Claus.

Their stockings were now filled with goodies and additional presents were waiting under the tree in the parlor.

He crept down the wide winding staircase and grabbed his sheepskin jacket from the coat rack by the front door. Then he walked into the kitchen, prepared his morning coffee, and stepped onto the back porch.

He settled onto the top step, wrapped his hands around the warm tin cup, and waited … waited for the first ray of sun to touch the sky and reveal its beauty … waited to hear the music in his soul that had always accompanied the sunrise before he’d gone to prison.

He heard the door open and glanced over his shoulder, anticipating the sight of his wife, rumpled from sleep.

“What are you doing?” Cameron asked.

He averted his gaze and tightened his hold on the cup. “I was enjoying the sunrise.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Austin shrugged. “It ain’t my porch.”

Cameron dropped beside him and wrapped his arms around his middle. “Cold out this morning.”

Austin watched the steam rise from his coffee.

“Loree seems nice,” Cameron said.

Austin sliced his gaze over to Cameron. “She is nice.”

Cameron nodded. “She doesn’t look like she’s got much longer to go.”

Austin narrowed his eyes. “You counting the months? ‘Cuz if you are, I’ll have to take you out behind the barn and teach you a lesson in minding your own business.”

“Nah, I wasn’t counting. I was just saying. That’s all.”

“Good, ‘cuz I wouldn’t like it at all if you were counting months.” Austin extended the cup toward Cameron. “Take a sip on that before your clattering teeth wake everyone up. It’ll help warm you.”

Cameron took the cup without hesitating and downed a long swallow before handing it back. “Thanks.”

“Becky would probably never forgive me if I let you freeze to death out here,” Austin said, squinting into the distance, searching for that first hint of sunlight.

“She missed you like hell while you were in prison.” Cameron clasped his hands between his knees. “So did I.”

Austin laughed mirthlessly. “You two had a hell of a way of showing me that.”

A suffocating silence wove itself between them, around them. Austin saw dawn’s feathery fingers pushing back the night.

“After Boyd died, my pa didn’t want anything to do with me since I didn’t approve of what Boyd had done—paying someone to kill Dallas. Dallas offered me a job—”

Austin turned his attention toward Cameron. “You would have wet your britches every time he gave you an order.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Cameron’s mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I figured so I went to work for Becky’s pa. She and I put a box in the storage room. Every time we got in some new contraption, we’d put it in the box because she knew how much you loved new contraptions.”

Austin took a sip on his coffee before handing the cup back to Cameron. “Didn’t really care about them one way or the other. They were just an excuse to go into town and see Becky.”

Cameron gulped on the black brew and passed it back. “She wrote you some letters. Couldn’t bring herself to address them to you in prison, though. She couldn’t stand to think of you being there so she just put them in the box so they’d be waiting for you when you got home.”

Austin cut his blue-eyed glare over to Cameron. “One of those letters tell me how she fell in love with you?”

“I doubt it … since she never fell in love with me.” He watched Cameron swallow. “We’d been married a little over eight months when Drew was born.”

“Babies come early.”

“He didn’t. My pa was dying. He asked to see me.

I always had the feeling he didn’t like me much.

Never knew why, but he didn’t want to die without telling me that I didn’t come from his loins.

It took him six years to realize my mother had fallen in love with the foreman.

His name was Joe Armstrong. My pa—I can’t stop thinking of him as my pa—said he shot Joe Armstrong through the heart and buried him where no one would ever find him. ”

“You believe him?”

Cameron nodded. “Yeah. Dee remembered the foreman. Said I’d always reminded her of him, but she was so innocent she never put things together.”

“And when you found out the truth, you turned to Becky.”

Cameron gave him a jerky nod. “Her pa had died a few months before so I guess she knew how I was grieving. I’d loved her forever, but I didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they did.

” He planted his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands.

“Christ, I never wanted her to have to marry me.”

Austin looked toward the golden light sweeping across the horizon—as brilliant a hue as Loree’s eyes. He wondered if she was awake yet. It was past time for her to join him on the porch. Lord, he missed her.

“Drew seems like a good kid,” he said quietly.

Cameron’s head came up. “Oh, he’s great. And Becky adores him. I was afraid she might resent him—like my pa resented me—but she doesn’t. She loves him with all her heart.”

“She loves you, too, Cameron.” The words cut deeply, lancing the wound that had been left to fester too long.

Doubt plunged into Cameron’s eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why in the hell would I tell you that if it weren’t true? Don’t you think it would ease my pride to think she still loved me?”

“I haven’t touched her since you got out of prison. I was afraid … afraid she’d wish it was you. I couldn’t stand the thought that maybe she was thinking of you while I was loving her.”

Austin tossed the remaining coffee over the cold ground. He’d made Loree a promise and suddenly, it didn’t seem as though it would be difficult to keep. Whatever he and Becky had once had … was nothing more than a distant memory.

“A blind fool could see that she loves you more than she ever loved me. Why in the hell do you think I’ve been so angry all these months? Not because she married you. But because she didn’t love me as much as she loves you.”

“Yeah?”

Austin gave a brisk nod. “Yeah.” He studied Cameron a minute. “You said your pa killed your real father?”

Cameron gave a slow hesitant nod. “Hard to believe I lived with a murderer all those years and never knew it.”

“You think there’s a chance he might have killed Boyd?”

“It occurred to me, more than once, but why would he have killed Boyd? Boyd could do no wrong as far as he was concerned.”

Austin heaved a deep sigh. “Damn. Wish I knew who killed him. I don’t like having this guilty verdict hanging over my head.”

“Doesn’t seem to bother Loree.”

“Loree looks at the world differently than most people. Someone murdered her family, but she somehow managed to hold onto a portion of her innocence. I’m afraid if we stay here …

if she hears too many people whispering about me, speculating on who I might murder next …

that she’ll lose that little bit of innocence. ”

“You thinking of leaving?”

Austin shrugged. “I don’t know where we’d go or what I’d do so probably not, but I think about it sometimes. Houston told me once that when a man loves a woman, he does what’s best for her, no matter what the cost to himself. I’d pay any price to see Loree happy.”

“She seems happy enough.”

“I think I can make her happier. I know I can. Houston told me that he thought he might have fallen in love with Amelia the minute he saw her. I didn’t feel that way with Loree, but when she stepped out of that house, I felt as though … I’d come home.”

“Do you think Dallas fell in love with Dee when he first laid eyes on her?”

Austin shook his head, joyful memories surging through his mind like a kaleidoscope of forgotten images. “Nope. He probably fell in love with her when he discovered she had a nose. Do you remember the look on his face when he lifted her veil and saw her face for the first time?” Austin chuckled.

Cameron started laughing. “His face? You should have seen your face!”

“Mine? What about yours?”

Their laughter grew louder, mingling with the dawn.

Loree slipped her fingers between the kitchen curtains and peered through the tiny opening. Austin laughed so hard that he very nearly doubled over, his chin almost hitting his drawn up knees.