by Angie Dicken
She blinked away tears as she stared at the product of all his effort.
Of course the man was angry. He’d done all this for her. She’d allowed her stubborn walls to deflect his act of kindness.
How could she so easily reject the nicest gift that she had ever received?
* * *
Cort maintained his attention on the distant flame, his only sure proof that he was heading back in the right direction. He had spied Aubrey building a fire through the hazy dusk while he became acquainted with the neighbors. Frank and Mildred Hicks were kind enough, no doubt friendlier now that they’d exchanged the use of their plow for Cort’s help in getting the rest of their house up. He would work with them until the noon hour then use the plow for himself and return it first thing each morning. The downside was that he’d work on his own soddie in the heat of the day. But that was the price he would pay for the use of a plow to cut sod.
His stomach was a tumbleweed of nerves after the way he’d left things with Aubrey. It was probably for the best, though. Now he was sure that he wouldn’t grow any attachments. He’d be a good tenant and help only if she asked. Besides renting a small section of land from the woman, he really had no other reason to associate with her at all.
Except, of course, if he let her magnetic strength and wits have anything to do with it.
Lord, give me self-control.
He sure needed that fruit of the Spirit with a woman like Aubrey Huxley as his landlady.
By the time he trotted over to his horse’s sleeping spot, the pinpricked quilt of the night sky twinkled above. Cort ignored the tug to look around for Aubrey.
Self control, remember?
He traipsed toward the ridge and tried to look forward to sleeping in the hole he’d supposedly dug for himself. It’d be nice to sleep on dry dirt and not the coarse grass of the prairie. It was cooler down in the creek bed, too. Cort talked himself into it, moving at a more certain pace until Aubrey came around from the small fire and stood in front of him.
“I just have one thing to say to you.” She crossed her arms over her torso. Her face was dark except for an orange shaft of firelight cutting across her cheek and highlighting a deep carved line between her brows. He was captured by the medley of color in her eye. “We had agreed the only thing I owed you in this whole land exchange deal was a plot of land for you to work yourself. I know you offered help until you supposedly leave, but there’s one thing about that.” Her nostrils flared. “I need to know why.” The wrinkle between her eyebrows smoothed.
“Why? I dug it for you because it was the right thing to do.”
“No, not that.” Aubrey dismissed his defense with a wave of her hand. She took a half step forward. “I mean, I understand. And I really do thank you for doing that.” Relaxing her rigid posture, she stared downward as she fiddled with her fingers. “Why don’t you know how long you will stay?”
Cort inhaled the spicy smell of burning wood. It comforted less than the question tormented him. What could he say? He couldn’t lie. Lying would make him no better than the other Stantons. Every Stanton was a liar, a cheat and a—
He closed his eyes and prayed the verse, Put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. He was stuck between the old and the new, hoping he could earn his new self from here on out, no matter the cost.
Aubrey’s hands trembled while she stood there waiting for his answer. He wondered if she’d guessed it already. “What do you think?”
She clicked her tongue then frowned. “I—I can’t say. It could be a million things.”
“But you have a guess, don’t you?”
Her hands fell to her sides, and he couldn’t tell if the right one still shook, or if it was the firelight dancing upon it. “I suppose.”
“Then tell me. I’ll tell you if you’re right.”
“Are you in trouble, Cort?”
Cort’s insides began to quiver. He’d been in trouble for so long. But to hear someone else say it? Defeat rained down upon him and he was drenched with shame.
“Has it got something to do with the law?” Aubrey spoke this with more certainty. Did he just imagine her spreading her hand upon her dress pocket where she kept her pistol? The woman did not trust him in the least.
Why would she?
“I’d followed in the wrong crowd, Aubrey, until I gave myself to Jesus. But it wasn’t long after that when I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Cort stepped closer and Aubrey’s hand slid up to the mouth of the pocket.
“Was it the law, Cort?” She spoke through her teeth.
“Yes.” He clenched his fist, knowing she’d only see him as a criminal now. “I don’t blame you for wondering or even for being scared. Trust me when I tell you that I would never bring you harm. I hope to never bring harm to anyone.”
“What did you do?”
While she might eventually trust him, he couldn’t tell her what had occurred. He had never spoken it to anyone, nor would he for fear of destroying his brother’s family. He had given his word, and now he must stick to it for any kind of true redemption. Besides, claiming his innocence would make him appear more guilty. Cort reached his hand out instinctively, hoping to clasp her arm with an assuring touch.
Aubrey twisted her body away from him and stumbled backward. “What did you do, Cort?” She spoke louder now.
“Please, Aubrey. Don’t make me say it. It’s in the past. I’ve been given a second chance.”
“A second chance?” She narrowed her eyes.
He thought back on the prison fire. After he’d been given permission by Sheriff Conway, he had run faster than he’d ever run before. That was as good as freedom, right? Conway had always liked Cort and knew that he was nothing like his brother. The sheriff had tried getting the whole story out of Cort during his few weeks behind bars. The law was on his side in that respect. As Cort ran from the burning cell and his only friend, he’d sobbed and prayed.
Aubrey dug her fist into her hip, her elbow sharply bent. “A second chance by who?”
“By who?” Cort backed up a couple of steps. “By the good Lord, Aubrey. Only by His grace, and only by Him.” He walked toward the ridge. There was nothing else he could say tonight.
Chapter Five
The whipping breeze was no less torrid than the curtains of sunshine that fell from the cloudless sky. Aubrey guided Cort’s horse at a steady pace and waved to her new neighbors. The man gestured with his hat in his hand, and the woman just lifted her chin. Sunlight glinted off their plow, which sat amid piles of sod cut for building. Her stomach churned with anxiety. She had never used a plow before, and the thought of using a hand plow rather than a horse-drawn one seemed tedious and difficult. But a plow of some sort would be necessary for her home, even if she couldn’t afford a plow or a horse. Borrowing from her neighbors might be the only option. Were they friendly? How long would their house take before she could start on hers? Aubrey couldn’t make out their features. From the corner of her eye, someone else caught her attention.
Cort.
He covered the land with long brisk strides, heading away from the neighbors toward her land. He’d set out earlier while Aubrey was giving Ben his breakfast. Cort had said he was helping the neighbors after she’d asked to ride his horse to Alva. They had carefully avoided each other this morning, speaking only as needed. But why was he headed back so early? Hopefully he wouldn’t get Ben all riled up.
Their conversation last night was not what she’d expected. Instead of upheaving his secret past, she’d unveiled his dependence on God’s grace. And for some reason, that was enough. He was a faithful man. With that came respect and admiration. Faith had been hard to come by living under Ed Huxley’s roof. Most days, her inability to forgive him only pushed her to a corner of guilt, not toward God at
all.
Another reason why she needed to leave Kansas. She didn’t like herself while living with him. Maybe Pa would be easier to forgive at a distance?
She looked back one more time. Her breath caught.
Cort began to hesitantly wave his arm in her direction. Before she could get her hand up to wave back, the horse let out a loud whinny and jerked to a stop. Aubrey gasped, tightening her grip and facing forward again.
A toppled-over wagon stood in their path a few yards ahead. It hadn’t been there on her last ride to town. The ribs of the covered wagon lay crushed on one side while the canvas flapped in the breeze.
“Come on, boy.” Aubrey gently stroked the horse, but he stuck his hooves into the ground and refused to budge. “Are you spooked?” A rustle from the wreckage sent a shiver down Aubrey’s spine. It’d been a couple of days since the race. What if someone was trapped in the wagon? Or what if it was a ploy to get her off the horse and rob her? She’d lived her whole life with a thief, and this seemed to be an excellent opportunity for one.
Panicked, she whipped around to get Cort’s attention. She frantically waved for him to come over. He waved back but didn’t change his course. “Please, understand,” she said under her breath, then used both arms. He began to run toward her.
She scrambled down and headed toward him, her feet crushing the dry grass that crunched as loudly as ripping parchment in a silent schoolroom.
“What is it?” He hunched over, planted his palms on his knees and gulped for air. “Are you hurt?”
Of course he’d ask her if she was hurt, because of her frantic motions, but she relished his concern.
“There’s a toppled wagon, and the horse won’t go closer. Something—” Aubrey nibbled her lip, giving a sideways glance toward the wreckage. “I mean, someone moved inside it. I heard it. I—I thought you could—”
“Help you?” He raised an eyebrow and straightened to his full-head-taller-than-her height.
She smirked. “Yes, I’d ask any nearby gentleman for help in this situation.” She flicked her head toward the wagon, her bonnet slipping back. “And you have proved to be a gentleman, Cort.” Admitting this frightened Aubrey. Only because she was tempted to attach herself to this man more than she should. The tragedy of her mother’s attachment to her father was an ever-present warning in her mind.
Cort approached her, his eyes narrow beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. A flash of concern then cynicism then solace. “No, you were right to call me over. It’s not safe for a lady to come up to a strange property.”
Aubrey began to open her mouth in protest, but Cort leaned toward her and whispered as he walked past, “No matter what you carry in your pocket.” He chuckled, heading toward the wagon.
She tried to grow angry, but instead released a sigh. Wasn’t that why she had asked him to come over in the first place? Never in a million years would she admit it to him. But, for now, she’d bottle her emotions and follow the cowboy.
A property flag flapped nearby, and distant voices carried from the south—probably from the creek bed that ran through her own property. The wagon’s wood was split where it came in contact with the ground. Aubrey prayed that nobody had been hurt. At her last utterance of prayer, a whimper traveled from beneath the wreckage.
“It sounds like a child.” Cort’s pace quickened. He dropped to his knees then crawled toward the entrance of the deflated canopy.
Aubrey’s blood pumped hard in her ears. A second whimper smudged away her fear and only brought to mind one image—her helpless brother sprawled out on the dying grass. If there was someone in need, she was ashamed to think that fear had stopped her from helping right away.
While Cort half disappeared inside the wagon, Aubrey bent down to see as best as she could. The shade was too dark in the intense sunshine. The far-off chatter hadn’t lessened or grown any, and the horse snorted a couple of times. The immediate silence surrounding them swelled louder. Cort had stopped moving. Only his boots stuck out in the daylight.
Another whimper. “Hello?” His muffled question tugged Aubrey closer and she dropped to her knees, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness.
“Daddy?”
Cort was right. It was a child.
“No, but I’m here to help. Just grab on to my neck.” He began to back out, tenderly so.
A small child, probably five years old, flailed about in Cort’s arms as they hit the light of day. The girl wiggled about then leaped from him. Straightening her soiled dress, she then crossed her arms. “You ain’t my parents.” Her button nose was all scrunched up and her lips thrust out in a pout.
“No, but we can help you. Are you lost?”
“I ain’t lost, but my dolly is stuck. Her pretty dress is caught. I know I wasn’t s’pose to come back. Daddy told me so. But I knew my dolly was here. I just knew it.” The little girl headed back toward the opening of the tipped wagon.
“Where is your daddy?” Aubrey asked. Why wasn’t he looking for her? Pa wouldn’t have looked for her, either. He hadn’t, that time that she’d been lost.
Cort stood and brushed off his knees. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself. What with snakes and robbers and...” His warning trailed when the child’s eyes grew the size of very large buttons. He obviously had little experience with children. Scaring her to death wouldn’t do anyone any good right now.
“Cort, that’s no way to talk to a child.” Aubrey crouched down to level with the fair-haired girl. “Where are your parents, child?”
“They went down to the crick to check on Jolene. She scraped her knee pretty bad when we tipped, and they’re done carrying all our things to the place Daddy dug out for us yesterday.” She dropped to her knees then sat back, cross-legged. “You think you could help me get my dolly? Mama just sewed her dress brand-new. It’s made of silk.”
Aubrey looked over her shoulder at Cort. “I am certain Mr. Stanton will happily rescue your doll. Won’t you, Cort?”
His lips parted. He gave her the same look as when Pa had tried to sell him the pathetic creature back at camp.
“Contrary to your expression, I am very serious.” She swiveled, chewing on her cheek to stop her smile from growing. Taking the girl’s hand, she stepped aside for Cort.
He rummaged through the inside of the mess. The little girl hopped up and down in her scuffed boots, golden curls bouncing from beneath her bonnet.
“Aha.” Cort backed out. He flipped over and sat beneath a crooked hat with a doll hanging from one hand and a cast-iron skillet clutched in the other.
A grin crept wide on Aubrey’s face. She couldn’t help it. This grown cowboy held a dolly in his massive grip. Well, it was sweet and ridiculous all at once.
“You ripped her dress!” The girl yanked the doll from his hand then ran toward the creek. Stunned, Aubrey’s smile disappeared and her mouth dropped in near-perfect unison to Cort’s.
“Ungrateful little girl,” she grumbled. “Thank you anyway.” Helping him up, she yanked a little too forcefully and he stumbled toward her. He grasped at her arm and she steadied him at his waist.
“Adelaide!” A holler carried across the plain.
Aubrey spun around. A woman struggled to run toward the little girl. Her hands held on to her very pregnant belly as if her precious bundle threatened to escape.
“You do not run off, you hear me? I had my heart in my throat lookin’ for you!” She clutched Adelaide’s arm. “Hello there.” The mother walked toward them, shading her eyes. Both mother and daughter had round faces with bright blue eyes and golden hair. Although Adelaide’s face was screwed up in a scowl while her mother’s was bright with excitement. “It is so thrillin’ to meet others who made it through that terrible start.” She was breathless as she spoke. “Are you near here?”
“Looks like we’re your
neighbors to the east. I’m Aubrey Huxley.” They shook hands.
“I’m Cort Stanton.” He tipped his hat. “Is this your skillet, ma’am? I rescued it from the wreckage. Mighty fine piece there.” He handed it to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Stanton. I thought we’d emptied most everything from the wagon. I’m Sarah Jessup.”
“Back when I was a cookie, I’d have been hard-pressed to lose a skillet like that.” He scratched his jaw. Aubrey just stared at him. He was a horseshoer, cattle rancher and a cook? She wondered if she would discover everything about this jack-of-all-trades.
Cort must have felt her stare. He nudged her with an elbow. “Didn’t know that about me, huh? My best days were cooking for cowboys.”
Mrs. Jessup piped in, “My pa used to cook, too.” She tousled Adelaide’s loose curls then admired her skillet. “Your grandpa. This was his.”
“Now I’m working for Miss Huxley here to get a ranch going.” Cort cleared his throat. “Her brother will help, too, once he recovers from an injury.” Aubrey was certain he added that to secure a sense of propriety.
Even so, Mrs. Jessup’s cheeks glowed red, her blue eyes glittering as she bounced her look from Aubrey to Cort. “Why, you all are a handsome pair, aren’t you?” She winked. Aubrey gritted her teeth as she smiled back. And Cort? Well, she wouldn’t dare look in his face.
“As you can see, our hardship met us right at the end of it all. Mr. Jessup had taken it to town for supplies one last time.” Sarah nodded toward the wreckage. “One of our horses got spooked and flung that wagon around like a wild dog on a leash. But fortunately, we were mostly unloaded.” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry for that. Is it just your husband and your daughter besides yourself?” Cort asked.
“Oh, no. I have three more daughters, Jolene, Caroline and Beatrice. My hands are full, but so’s my heart.” She giggled.
