by Angie Dicken
“You think you’ll have much more business out here?” He looked beyond her shoulder at the deep pink clouds painted with the setting sun. “I mean, the race is at noon tomorrow.”
“You haven’t found your horse yet, Mr. Stanton.” She crossed her arms, cocking her head to one side. “Who’s to say that there aren’t a few more negotiations left tonight?”
“You have quite an eye for business, don’t you, Miss Huxley?”
She looked over her shoulder. “One day I hope to use it for my own ranch.” When she looked up at him, there was a flush in her cheeks and her eyes brimmed with moisture. “May I join you, Mr. Stanton? Please. I...I just need to get away.” Her soft admission allowed him a glimpse of her vulnerability in that moment. Cort’s fierce desire to protect her was stronger than it had been just moments ago in the face of that rascally man. But now, he had no idea what he would protect her from. Just that there was something threatening her strength.
He held out his elbow and she placed her small hand in the crook of his arm.
“Thank you,” she said as they strolled forward.
When they arrived at her competitor’s corral, the owner rode up on a slightly older male horse. Cort worried that his own advice to Miss Huxley about it being too late to buy a horse was his own fate.
“Sir, didn’t you have a stallion earlier?”
Miss Huxley left his side and went up to the horse as the owner dismounted.
“Yes, sir. He’s out back. Got this one for sale, too. Just purchased him from a poor guy who’s been struck by the heat and won’t be racing tomorrow. Paid a pretty penny.”
“You have two horses for sale?” Miss Huxley’s voice cracked, and her face lit up like she’d stumbled across gold. When her gaze crossed Cort’s, she cleared her throat and brushed her fingers through the horse’s fine black mane.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s back behind the tent. Those boys over yonder were getting him all stirred up.” He began to jaunt across the dusty dirt. “Let me bring him ̓round.”
Miss Huxley stayed by the horse, stroking his nose. A loud whinny from behind turned Cort’s attention to the stallion being led by its owner.
After negotiating a price, they both paid for the horses. Aubrey was content with the older male, while Cort paid a little more for the stallion.
“You will do wonderful in the race with that horse,” she said over her shoulder as she led her own horse out of the gate. “Wish I could see him run.”
“Maybe you can come see me off.” Cort chuckled. A pain reached across his chest—something he’d much rather focus on than the dangerous trail of thought leading his senses astray. The good Lord may have softened this ranch hand, but his edges were still rough. Cort was certain if he let anyone get too close, they’d feel the sting. And he promised himself no more regret. He had enough already. It was too much to bear most days.
She stopped her horse and spun around. A mischievous grin appeared. “Don’t think I’ll be around to see you off. But I do wish you the best, Mr. Stanton.” She walked up to him and offered an awkward handshake. “I think I’ll cut through between the tents and head behind the corral. Don’t forget us if anyone needs a horse.”
“That one is sure to be gone soon,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow, and he did the same. What was she thinking? Or plotting? “We also have goods for sale like saddle soap.” She clutched her skirt, avoiding a puddle near a water trough, then briskly led her horse out of view. Not a trace of lavender left in his dim surroundings.
Good. Only good would come from widening the distance between himself and Miss Huxley. He tried wrapping his mind around the relief of avoiding heartache since his days of freedom might be limited. If she knew he was an outlaw, she wouldn’t stick around long anyway. They’d never see each other again, and that realization should be a salve for his wounded soul.
Then why did he feel like he was walking away from hope when Aubrey left him behind in the fading light of dusk?
Chapter Two
Aubrey couldn’t sleep. Pa had returned to his own tent clear after nightfall and was snoring loud and long. How did her brother, Ben, put up with it? How could he put up with many of Pa’s ways like he did? Ben was eighteen and a little puppet for their father.
She tried to breathe in rhythm with the snoring next door, but could only grimace with her effort. Her eyes caught the outline of her flag sticking out of her bag. She tried focusing on the waiting land and on staking her claim, but Cort Stanton crept into her mind. Even if she was offended by the cowboy at first, Cort had redeemed himself when he came to her rescue. She’d never let on what it meant to her.
But it meant something. It had been a long time since someone looked out for Aubrey Huxley. After Mama passed away, she’d never felt cared for. Not until this afternoon when that handsome cowboy threatened that horrible man at the corral did Aubrey realize how much she longed for such honorable attention.
The sound of nearing footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Who was about at this time of night? Maybe sooners? In past land races, they’d been known to steal into the night looking for land—would they take a horse also? As she dressed, she slipped her pistol into her pocket, ready to fight for her new horse.
The warm night air was coated in fire smoke and murmurs of folk preparing for tomorrow.
“Hey there, sis.” Ben startled her before she could look for a prowler. He held open the flap to his and Pa’s tent.
“Were you walking around just now?” She peeked about the corral, then quickly glanced behind her tent. Her horse was still tied to the hitch. She blew out her tension. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was trying to convince that neighbor to take our last mare.” Her eighteen-year-old brother was taller and broader than their father, but he wasn’t much different than Pa. Always ready to help his father take advantage of a customer. “Wouldn’t budge. Ah, well. Guess Pa will have to sell her back in Kansas.”
“Or you can. Maybe get that money for your wedding. Liza’s already got the dress,” she said, recalling the details she’d sewn on the gown.
“Yeah, true.” He scratched his head as he peered at his boots. He leaned forward, whispering low, “You sure you’re going to run tomorrow?”
Her throat thickened. “Course I am. And you promised to keep Pa from looking for me. I left the money I earned for sewing in the bread box. If only I’d found Mama’s savings for the ranch. Can’t stand knowing that if he finds it, he’ll squander it.”
Ben shrugged. “You don’t have to leave at all if you don’t want to.” His forehead crinkled.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll write. Just as soon as I’m settled.” He returned the hug then stepped back and opened the tent, releasing Pa’s heavy snores as he disappeared inside.
Aubrey’d never fall asleep now. She meandered toward the campfire lighting up the clearing just beyond their fence. In the flickering light she could make out a few men crouched down in a huddle, no doubt planning their route tomorrow. Two of the women she’d grown acquainted with this past week rocked their babies on one side of the fire. They’d brought their children over to pet the horses and make small talk.
Aubrey took careful steps as she neared them, wanting to say goodbye but not wanting to disturb their sleeping infants. Someone else caught her attention, though. All by his lonesome, Cort Stanton sat on a barrel, reading a book. What was it about Mr. Stanton, besides those emerald eyes and compassionate grin? Tiny flutters filled her stomach.
He caught her staring at him across the fire. “Evening, Miss Huxley.”
She stepped around the steady flames, lowering her face as humiliation washed her from head to toe. Gathering breath in her lungs and willing her heartbeat to calm down, she gave him a curt smile upon her approach. “Good evening, Mr. Stanton.”
He stood up and tipped his hat. “What are you reading there?”
Good. He’d think her blatant attention toward him was out of curiosity for his book choice.
He held it out beneath a sincere smile. “The Good Book. Nothing better.” He winked.
Aubrey swallowed. “I see. And I must agree.” Her shoulders relaxed. He offered her his seat, pulling up a wooden crate for himself. “Shouldn’t you be resting for tomorrow?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a slight wince as he stared off into the fire. “There’s a lot at stake tomorrow.”
“Yes, there is.” What if she didn’t get to the land she’d need to fill Mama’s dream? “What kind of land are you looking for, Mr. Stanton?”
“Just land. I want to work and live. That’s all.” He looked down at his Bible.
“Yes, me, too.” She bit her lip. “I mean, working and living are what I want also.”
He narrowed his eyes her way. “You are racing, aren’t you?”
She gave a quick nod. “If my father found out, he’d ruin my chances to run. Can’t risk anyone knowing.” Aubrey wagged her head and let out a sigh. “Guess you know now. You and my brother are the only ones.”
“It’s okay. I won’t say a word. Believe me, I know how to keep a secret.”
“You do?” She arched her eyebrow, feeling a connection with this near stranger. He didn’t pry, just gave her assurance.
“It’s the only reason I’m here, Miss Huxley. To keep a secret safe and sound.” His face hid beneath the brim of his cowboy hat and he turned to the next page of his Bible. “And the funny thing is, my brother’s the only one that knows about it, too.” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head.
“Seems we have much in common, Mr. Stanton.” She didn’t look at him, just stared into the flame.
“Miss Huxley.” He said her name in a rich, deep tone. Aubrey met his gaze. Fire danced in his intent, lively eyes. He opened his mouth as if he’d speak, then shut it again. His face grew dim with a sorrowful smile. “Be careful tomorrow.”
“I will,” she said. “You, too, Mr. Stanton.” What was it about this man that made her feel safe? “Good night.” As she walked back toward her tent, she wondered why he hesitated. What was he going to say? Would he have shared his secret just like she shared hers? Whatever it was, she’d be careful to stay clear of that cowboy on the start line tomorrow. Her finely crafted defense from years of dealing with Pa’s shenanigans quivered next to this man.
As she neared her tent, a whinny came from her horse. She held her breath, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Pa and give away its hiding spot. Thankfully, the snoring continued.
Only a few more hours and Pa would find the note and the money. Her brother would keep him calm. Ben had promised he would after she made the wedding dress for his sweetheart without payment. Soon, the Huxley men would be back up in Kansas where they belonged, and Aubrey would have a piece of the Cherokee Strip.
She couldn’t resist a smile as she ducked inside her tent.
Readying for tomorrow morning, she carefully placed her pistol in her bag. As she sat on her cot, she strained her ears. Did she hear whispers on the other side of her canvas wall? She stilled every breath and movement, hoping her imagination had got the best of her. Nothing but cargo and her horse were on the other side of the tent. It was a perfect hiding place from Pa and anyone else. Or so she’d thought. Another very loud, very real whinny startled her quieted body, and she sprang from her bed. Rummaging through her bag for her pistol, Aubrey burst into the darkness.
She kept her eyes lowered, careful to not trip over any tent stakes. When she came round to the back of the tent, her heart plummeted to her stomach.
Her horse was gone.
Rattled by anguish, she nearly lost her grip on her bag. Could all these months of planning slip away with a rotten thief? She thought about the years of marriage her mama had endured with a thief. Her anger grew. Her mama’s dream was so close to coming true, she’d not let anyone get in her way.
Her legs had never moved so fast. The warm prairie air tunneled through the alley of tents. She barreled into the open at the edge of a lonely grove of post oaks. About twenty yards away, she spied a shadowy figure of a man climbing on top of her horse near the perimeter of the encampment.
“Hey! That’s my horse,” she whispered loudly, acutely aware that the camp behind her was asleep and the scouts ahead were no doubt awake. They most likely waited along that charcoal-gray horizon, ready to fire at sooners trying to run early.
The thief turned his head then leaned down close to the body of the horse. Surely he knew the danger ahead. But before she could reach him, he darted into the forbidden prairie. Her temples pulsed with fiery blood at the sheer obstinacy of the thief. She couldn’t let him get away with this. There was no way another crooked man would take away her mama’s dream to build a ranch so easily.
Lord, protect me.
She screwed her face up as if she were about to enter a tightly spun briar patch and ran into the black of night. Prayer sprouted from her heart as she ran, begging God that the scouts were sound asleep. She sliced through the warm night air, keeping her eye on the tiny figure ahead. Sweat slid down her hairline and across her jaw. She licked her lips, tasting the salt of her perspiration. Soon, her eyes blurred. Was it sweat or tears? She couldn’t tell, but there was no doubt that her eyes wept at the effort. The fright of being out in the open hung in the back of her mind. She dared not look back to see how far she was from Camp Kiowa now.
Her legs couldn’t push her through the tall grasses fast enough, and the thief grew smaller, disappearing for a moment. The distance between them seemed to stretch as wide and vast as the prairie, shrinking Aubrey’s hope. He wouldn’t get away with this, would he? She couldn’t let him. No, she’d get her horse back—for Mama.
An explosive shot rang out. The silhouette of her horse lifted up on his hind legs, not as far away as she’d expected. A muted whinny met Aubrey’s pulsing ears as she dropped to her stomach. Before tucking her head behind a stand of tall grass, she spied her horse, riderless, galloping across the horizon, running as fast as her dreams of racing tomorrow crumbled.
How could she even try to catch him? He was spooked by the gunfire. Did the rider take a bullet? A flood of terror and uncertainty filled her heart. She just wanted her horse back. Now blood was spilled and her horse was frightened away.
She squinted, hoping to catch another glimpse of her horse’s silhouette. Jagged sobs filled her throat as the weeds scratched her cheek. Her heart thumped hard against the packed soil. The earthy aroma filled her nostrils as she dragged herself toward the direction of her horse.
The ground beneath her began to rumble, and every inch of her stiffened again.
“I didn’t find anything,” a man called out.
“We’ll find him in the morning. I know I got him. Probably wounded,” another man said. “Let’s go to the watering station and then return to our posts. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” Their horses’ trotting faded as they rode away.
When she was certain only stillness filled her surroundings, she relaxed her clenched fists and stilled her grinding teeth. She continued crawling through the coarse grass. If she could just find her horse, she’d return to camp and run the race. The moon was bright now. While her eyes adjusted, her ears played tricks on her. She cocked her head. What she thought was a whinny ended up being a distant train whistle. The locomotive’s rhythmic trudge across the land gave it away. She crawled forward but stopped at a nearby rustle ahead.
A wave of fear skittered across her heart.
Just a few feet in front of her, boot soles inched forward through the tall grass. A white flag was tucked in the back pocket of the culprit, bobbing in and out of view. Aubrey’s nostrils flared and she bit her lip, scouring the contents of her shoul
der bag. She’d packed her flag issued by the land office earlier at camp. Now it was gone. A wave of realization struck her like a twister hitting the ground. All her fright turned upside down.
She knew the thief all too well.
When she was close enough to grab his familiar boot, her courage bolstered, she lunged forward, hooking her arm around his neck.
“Ben Huxley. How dare you?” she seethed in his ear as he tried to wriggle away. Years of wrestling him gave her the advantage of surprise. He splayed flat, giving up immediately.
“Get off, Aubrey.” He tried squirming, but she tightened her grip on his neck and dug her knee into his back.
“Why would you steal from me?” Her voice wobbled. Emotion was thick in her throat. “I am so disappointed.” She let go with as much force as she’d tackled him, then snatched her flag out of his back pocket. The storm inside her drowned out the fear of being caught now. She sat up and draped her arms across her knees.
Ben sat up carefully, rubbing his neck. “I just got tempted. The thought of having land to sell...”
He was just like her father. Bending the rules, hurting those who might love him, all for his own gain.
“I thought I could trust you with my plan.” She should have known better. There was not a man in the world she could trust.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Got spared back there. Heard the bullet whiz by my ear.” His hand was shaking as he rubbed the side of his stubbly face. “I give up. You can keep the flag.”
“Oh, really?” She fiddled with the one-by-one post. “Of course I can keep it. It’s mine! Now I need to figure out how to get my horse and get back to camp without being killed.”
She looked across the horizon behind her. No horse in sight. The sky was silver with the onset of dawn. Sadness overwhelmed her.
“There’s something I wanna show you, Aubrey,” Ben whispered.
She wouldn’t budge. Defeat bolted her to the warm ground.
“Come on, sis. It’ll make up for all this, promise.”
