The Outlaw's Second Chance

by Angie Dicken

  Miss Huxley returned to her brother. Kneeling down, she held her hand high above his face, seemingly blocking out the sun. A whimper bleated from her lips, and her tiny figure began to tremble. She was crying. He steeled himself. He did not need to be a hero right now by rushing to her side to console her. Besides the fact that every fiber in his being told him to do just that and he couldn’t trust himself, he was tired of what she did to him when she was close. To see those large brown eyes swimming with tears? Well, that would be the end of him.

  “Miss Huxley, I’ll get some water for him,” he offered and didn’t wait for her answer before heading toward the creek. When he returned, Miss Huxley approached him with her own canteen in hand. A crude tent made from a quilt draped over an upright shovel and her unused stake shaded the injured man.

  “Here.” He handed her his canteen.

  “Thank you.” She hesitated. “I’ll go fill mine for good measure.”

  “Here, I’ll do that. You stay with him.”

  Miss Huxley swiped her moistened forehead with the back of her hand. Tilting her head to one side, she examined his face. “That’s kind of you.” Lowering her focus to the canteen, she reluctantly gave it to him.

  He hesitated, wondering how they’d ended up in this predicament. “Miss Huxley, did you run by foot? You said your horse was taken.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Your father didn’t sell your horse, did he?” The thought of that sleeping man with the crumpled-up letter at his feet frayed Cort’s nerves.

  Aubrey cocked her head, her lips parted in a slight smile. “No, he did not. But I lost my horse to another thief.” She glanced over at her brother. “Chased him through the night. The horse ran off before I got him.”

  “Wait—you ran early?” Cort asked.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. Tried to get my horse back,” she said. “Doesn’t matter, though. Should’ve stayed put.”

  “That’s a long run for coming up empty-handed,” he muttered.

  Her lip trembled. “This is not how I expected to end up, I promise you that.”

  His insensitive remark surely prodded her next sob. Cort didn’t hesitate to gather her in his arms. Her shaking body was warm against his chest. She melded into him, prompting a powerful instinct to tighten his grip and assure her that he’d protect her. His cheek rested on her bonnet while she cried. Lavender mixed with the dry prairie air filled his nostrils. That strange storm of hope brewed again, filling him with a boost of life.

  Oh, Lord, give me strength.

  Miss Huxley began to quiet, and as she did, her body stiffened. She pulled away. “All I care about right now is that my brother heals. I didn’t expect to take care of anyone but myself out here.” Her eyes were red, just like her flushed cheeks. “But I was also planning on having land of my own.” Her mouth turned downward.

  Cort remembered the letter she’d written. This woman was trying to escape her past, just like he was. A twinge of sorrow plucked his heart. “You mean, you were going to run by yourself today?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, having a horse would have been nice.” She rolled her eyes then sighed. “I know plenty about working the land and caring for horses in a proper way. Not like my pa. This was my chance to get away from him once and for all.”

  Cort swallowed away his guilt. It was not his fault that he got there first. “You should’ve claimed it, then.”

  Her eyes flashed with frustration. “And I planned to, after the race had started. Fair and square.” She pouted. “If you don’t mind, my brother and I will stay here until he recovers. Then we’ll get off your land, Mr. Stanton.” Her dress rippled behind her as she took brisk strides to her brother. She offered him a drink from the canteen.

  Fine. Stubborn woman could throw a fit about not getting her way. He couldn’t allow his heart to soften toward her anymore. What did she expect? For him to pull out his flag and give her one hundred and sixty acres out of sympathy?

  When he returned with a second canteen, Miss Huxley was leaning against a lone tree, facing the sunny prairie just to the north. He set the canteen by her brother, who was asleep beneath the quilt.

  A horse appeared upon the horizon to the north, barreling their way. Cort grabbed his holster. Would he have to ward off another person from his land?

  “Miss Huxley, why don’t you come beside your brother. I’ll take care of this.”

  “You forget, Mr. Stanton, I can take care of myself.” She walked over to her bag, pulled out a small pistol and shoved it in her pocket.

  “Fine. You can help guard my land if you’d like.” He smirked. She glared at him in response.

  The rider slowed to a trot. When he was on the edge of the western tree line, he waved above his head.

  Miss Huxley shaded her eyes with her hand. “It’s a soldier.”

  Cort’s stomach fell. The law. He tried to maintain his confidence. He couldn’t help but consider the fact that anyone dressed in a uniform might be his doomsayer. A part of him knew he was being irrational. The man couldn’t have known who he was—yet. Cort was different without his beard. And it was not as if he had his name written on his forehead.

  But he couldn’t hide forever. If anyone knew how small this part of the world was—no matter its million acres of prairie—it was Cort Stanton. He’d seen firsthand how quickly familiar faces popped up when you least expected them. Wasn’t Aubrey Huxley proving this to be true right in the middle of the Cherokee Strip? He would take it as a warning to be more careful.

  “Hello there.” The soldier stilled his horse just a few yards away from them. His attention fell on Miss Huxley’s brother. “Is that man okay there?”

  She stepped forward. “His leg appears to be broken. Do you know if there’s a doctor nearby?”

  “I sure don’t. But I’ll keep my ears open for one. I’m riding around informing everyone that a land office is set up about two miles west of here, near the Alva depot. The quicker you get there the better.”

  Cort rubbed his hands on his trousers. Why was he sweating so badly? This wasn’t Texas.

  “I’ll get there soon. Thank you, Officer.” Cort pulled at his collar.

  The scout tipped his flat-brimmed hat. “I’ll be sure to send a doctor over if I come across one.” He nodded at Aubrey. “As quick as everything’s happening, there’s bound to be one around here soon. They’ve already brought in a land surveyor from Amarillo. Y’all will have a town quicker than you can say ‘Alva.’” He galloped away.

  A land surveyor from Amarillo? This wasn’t Texas, but it sounded like Texas was coming here. Cort would’ve never expected to see someone from his hometown in the Cherokee Strip. He began to head over to his horse, praying that his weak legs would carry him that far.

  I just wanted more time.

  If he risked showing up at the land office with an Amarillo man about, then his time may as well be up. He’d seen wanted posters with his name on them on his way out of the Panhandle. Even if he changed his name, the Amarillo man would recognize him, wouldn’t he? This whole venture to hide seemed useless now.

  “Mr. Stanton, I wonder if you could ask around for a doctor also? The faster we find one, the quicker we can leave.” Miss Huxley’s voice was as unstable as Cort’s heartbeat. He could hear the hurt.

  “You can stay as long as you like.” His shoulders slumped.

  “Believe me, it’s better than what’s waiting for me in Kansas. But I assure you, I don’t need the reminder of all I’ve lost.”

  All she’d lost? Guilt began to swim around with his hopelessness. He’d taken the land from beneath her nose, and he might not even be able to keep it. What right did he, an outlaw, have to hoard land when this woman’s whole future lay ahead of her?

  He grabbed the horn of his saddle and pul
led himself up. When he turned his horse around, he spied Miss Huxley squeezing her brother’s hand. She bent her head and mumbled. Cort’s throat tightened.

  Lord, what should I do? I just want some time.

  Maybe he could buy some time? He clicked his tongue and tugged the reins. The horse approached the two siblings. Miss Huxley stood as Cort dismounted. An awkward silence passed between them. She stroked his horse’s mane while he tried to form words.

  “You know, this is an awful big chunk of land for a man to live on by his lonesome.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m not even going to stay long. It’d be vacant for most of the time.” He swallowed hard.

  How yellow can a man be to give all this up for a chance to hide?

  “It’s your land. You can come and go as you wish.” The longing in her eyes ignited an ache in Cort’s chest. She wanted to run horses. She wanted it badly.

  “What if it wasn’t my land? I mean, what if I let you...” Cort expected he would regret his next words. “What if I just worked a piece of it until I leave? What if you registered the land in your name?”

  Miss Huxley narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying, Mr. Stanton?”

  “One hundred and sixty acres is big enough for both of us, is all. What if you let me lease the land from you? Maybe one day, if I stay, I’ll buy a parcel of it. But until then, all I’d want in return is a chance to work it. I am a pretty decent farrier once you’re stocked with horses.”

  Miss Huxley’s lips parted. She blinked several times before whispering, “You’d give it to me?”

  “Sure. Doesn’t seem right that I keep it all to myself when I might—” Cort cleared his throat. “I’ll be away more than I’d be working it.” And sooner than later if that surveyor recognizes when I go to town.

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” She clamped her mouth shut. Her lips grew thin as she frowned. “What’s in it for you, Mr. Stanton?”

  * * *

  Every hair on Aubrey’s arms stood up on end. In the distance, a covered wagon blurred in and out of vision as she considered all that Mr. Stanton might be saying.

  Giving up his land? And offering it to her?

  He took a step closer. “I just want to work the land, Miss Huxley. Every decent man enjoys hard work. I might be long gone before winter, anyway.” He gazed across the plains over her shoulder. “Have you ever wanted to run away and not be found, Miss Huxley?”

  The cowboy searched her face with such intensity, she wondered if he could see into her heart and know that she didn’t want to be found, either.

  “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Stanton,” she half whispered. “But how can I trust you?” They’d spoken of their secrets last night. But he had never revealed his. What secret could be so big that a man would give up a piece of land?

  “I promise you, all I want is honest work. I am a gentleman and a hard worker. You have my word.” He took his hat off and placed it over his heart. A tousled mess of dark hair was slightly smashed on his head. Moist brown curls framed his suntanned forehead, and his emerald eyes sparkled.

  Against every beat of her overactive heart, she wanted to believe this man. Why was that? Both dubious men in her life, her pa and Ben, forced her to believe that trust was an ideal more than a virtue. How could she be tempted to give it to this stranger? If his generous gift wasn’t the exact thing Aubrey had placed her heart’s desire on, then she would turn and run the other way.

  But now this handsome cowboy waved his property flag in her face, even offering to help her get the ranch started. Agreeing to such an arrangement wasn’t as much a matter of trust as a matter of business. Wasn’t it? There wasn’t a boomer in all of Oklahoma who wouldn’t take such an offer as this. Maybe she could ignore the fact that he had secrets. This was her only chance to continue with her plan.

  “It’s a deal.” She pushed her chin to her neck, smiling while tears slid down her cheeks. Mr. Stanton held out his hand. She shook it. “You might have something to hide, but whatever it is, it has made me a brand-new landowner today.” She squeezed his hand. His face beamed even in his own loss.

  “You can thank the horse for getting me here just in time.” Mr. Stanton winked. “Guess it’s a good thing you ran on foot after all.”

  Aubrey slipped her hand away. No need holding on to him any longer. She shouldn’t entertain him any more than a rattlesnake on the toe of her shoe. Even if he was her first tenant and employee, exchanging as few words with him as possible would help keep him from becoming a distraction or a future regret.

  Mr. Stanton offered his hand once more and helped her onto the horse. Her heart leaped at the thought of riding to the land office to officially register the land in her name. But she spotted Ben’s collapsed body beneath her makeshift tent and gasped. She had nearly ridden off and left him with a practical stranger.

  “Don’t worry about him. I’ll be sure to dodge any flying fists.” Mr. Stanton winked again, an unnerving habit, to say the least.

  A wave of nausea stopped Aubrey from acknowledging his jest. Could she really leave her brother with this man who hid something big enough to give up one hundred and sixty acres?

  He closed his hand upon hers as she gripped the reins. “Miss Huxley, you have my word. And if that doesn’t mean anything to you, you can rest assured that I won’t do anything unworthy with such a window to the heavens as the Oklahoma sky.” He cast his tender green gaze upward. A warm smile revealed a dimple beneath his stubble.

  She might be leery of him, with his hidden motives for giving up his land, but he’d been a noble refuge twice yesterday—on the way to purchase horses, and last night, around the fire as he read his Bible and discussed their secrets. Perhaps his secret was the very thing that gave Aubrey this sweet providence?

  “Very well, Mr. Stanton.” She breathed in the hot prairie air. “I’ll hold you to it.” Patting the horse and clutching the reins, she squinted upward. “May that window above remain wide-open,” Aubrey mumbled as they trotted along.

  When she arrived at the land office, she stood among hundreds of people eager to register their land in the already thriving town of Alva. She couldn’t believe the haggling that was already taking place among settlers who had just run the race of their lives. Tents were set up just like at the camp before the run—saloon tents, lawyers and even a doctor tending to many men and women who’d been injured in the shuffle. Aubrey was able to speak with him about Ben and he had said he’d follow her home after the town’s first church service tomorrow morning. Although she was glad to leave behind the chaos in town, Aubrey was also thrilled to be counted among these settlers who were not lazy about making life here and making it quick.

  Aubrey galloped most of the way back. She hadn’t planned to spend so much time away, and her anxiety was heightened as she thought about Ben. When she approached the grove of trees on the western part of her property, though, she slowed to a trot. The peace of the prairie invited her back like she’d been living there for years. Every shadow, every blade of dry grass upon which they would now tread, was hers. Mr. Stanton walked over and offered his hand to help her off the horse. The excitement roaring through her veins made it difficult to refrain from wrapping him in a celebratory embrace. Instead, she crossed over to check on Ben. He was breathing just fine and had a wet handkerchief over his forehead. She twisted a bandanna in her hands and walked up to the cowboy poking at a fire near the ridge above the creek bed. “Thank you for caring for him.”

  “Glad to help. Don’t think he knows who I am. Barely opened his eyes when I offered him a drink.” He gave a warm smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I’m not sure what you’re hiding from, Mr. Stanton, but it can’t be too bad.” Should she say what was on her mind? She’d thought about it all the way home. “You’ve been quite the gentleman today.” And yesterday, for that matter. She fixed her
eyes on the flame as she gave him praise for his chivalrous ways, hoping he’d stay accountable to those ways throughout the evening.

  “That’s kind of you, Miss Huxley.” His scratchy voice tempted her to look up at him. The dancing flames were trapped in his eyes. He grinned warmly.

  She sat down and leaned back on her hands. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. I’m planning on building my first sod house.”

  Mr. Stanton threw back his head and chuckled. “That’s quite a feat, Miss Huxley. I told you I was here to help.”

  Her neck crawled with heat. She scooted back from the fire. “You’re better off taking care of yourself, sir. I don’t want to depend on anyone, especially a stranger.”

  “Aubrey—” He curled his lip in, then continued, “Do you mind if I call you that?”

  She shook her head, trying to ignore the delight of hearing her name on his lips.

  “I said I’d help you get the ranch going, and I will. I’ll do my best to not disappoint you.”

  Aubrey stood to her feet and began to place her hands on her hips, but reconsidered and dropped them to her sides. “Mr. Stanton—”

  “Cort.”

  She swallowed hard. A nervous stampede pelted its way across her stomach. How could such a rugged cowboy not only cast off his land, but swear by his word in such a way that every ounce of her spirit believed him? She refused to depend on him, though. No matter how much he offered his assistance. Leaning on him would wreck the independence she had finally found after escaping a man like Pa. Anything else would lead toward her demise, just like Mama found out after years with Pa.

  “Cort. It’s obvious that you try to be a man of your word. You kept it while I was away, and for that, I thank you. But don’t think that I am ever going to count on anything you say you’re going to do, or anyone says, for that matter. I am only here for one person—my mother. If I get help along the way, then so be it. But I have my assumptions that your leaving might not be of your own accord. I can only take what you offer to do with a grain of salt.”