by Angie Dicken
“Cort, maybe if I knew more about your secret, I could help you. I am your...” She loosened her bonnet ties. “I am your friend, Cort.”
“You are?” His throat tightened as his heart sped up.
“One of my only out here.” She crossed her arms. “At least, I think you are.” She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.
He could tell her everything right now. She was trustworthy. Why shouldn’t he? But there was something nagging his conscience. It had nothing to do with Aubrey, but his own flesh and blood. If he shared his innocence with her, then if the time came for him to serve the sentence, there’d be a chance she’d spill the truth to the authorities. Charles would never forgive him, and his nephew would miss the chance of having a father.
“Aubrey, my secret isn’t just mine to tell. It could ruin innocent people.”
“What about you? It could ruin you, and you’re innocent, aren’t you?” Her eyebrow hooked in suspicion. Or was it desperation? She appeared anxious for assurance that he was innocent. The only thing that stopped him from admitting it was his allegiance to his brother. He must be loyal to his word. And by his word he was guilty, even if he was innocent by his deed.
He tapped her chin and said, “I am glad you are my friend, Aubrey Huxley. I’ve never had such a pretty one before.”
The bloom on her cheeks was definitely not from heat, he thought.
Instead of feeling guilty for encouraging her affection, it gave him good reason to focus extra hard on working this afternoon. For now, he would enjoy the unlikely hope that their friendship might be a long one.
Chapter Ten
Aubrey looked around for Cort, but he and his horse were nowhere to be found. She should at least tell him about the chuck wagon dinner. Pushing fret aside, she tried to remember her place out here, and Cort’s. Especially since he obviously had avoided admitting his innocence. The thought of him being guilty of anything dishonorable soured her stomach. She couldn’t imagine it...but she had little sure reason to believe that he wasn’t.
Her effort to convince Ben to go with her was futile. She’d offered to borrow the Jessups’ cart, but his itchy cast made him irritable, and he didn’t want to see anyone.
The scorching heat still baked the air. A wall of clouds hid the sun’s glare, but fortunately a persistent breeze lapped through the plains. The Jessup family was ready to go when she arrived. For most of the walk over to the Pattersons’, Adelaide swung Aubrey’s hand to and fro. Aubrey tried to enjoy the moment, even though the evening ahead would be more of an attempt to promote herself as a dressmaker rather than participate in a social engagement.
“Looks like we’re tardy.” Mr. Jessup strode ahead and Adelaide abandoned Aubrey’s hand to run up with her pa. He scooped her up onto his waist.
“Come on, sugar. Let’s go see what’s cooking.” With an armful of giggles, Mr. Jessup disappeared into the socializing neighbors. A silver thread of smoke evaporated in the sky above a dozen or so hats and bonnets.
“Just like him.” Sarah hooked arms with her. The expectant mother shook her head and leaned in close. “He is more of a social creature than I am.” She smiled, a bit wearily for such light conversation. Aubrey steadied her arm. The woman seemed to need all the support she could get with her unbalanced midsection causing discomfort. “I appreciate you joining us, Aubrey.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” Her eye caught on nearly every woman in the group. Prospective customers chattering all around.
She led Sarah and her daughters to a couple of benches near the rear of the chuck wagon. A savory aroma coaxed a ferocious growl from her stomach. “My, it smells delicious. I haven’t eaten a full meal since—” Aubrey’s breath caught as she spied Cort Stanton with an iron skillet and a spatula, transferring biscuits to a basket held out by Mrs. Hicks. “I had no idea Cort was cooking,” she exclaimed under her breath.
While Sarah was busy with her girls, Aubrey slipped away, skirted around some barrels and approached the cookie. “Hello there, Mr. Stanton.” She pulled her shoulders back in confidence, yet the smile on her face would not be contained. “Full of surprises, I see.”
Cort cocked his head and a flash brightened his emerald eyes. “Surprises? Well, you’ve had a taste of my cooking. This won’t be much of a surprise to you. Except I have a few more items on this menu.” He winked.
Dear God, I must not fall for this man.
But her heart refused to ignore his playfulness. He released his iron skillet, then leaned his shoulder on the wagon frame, giving her his full attention. Her pulse skittered away, only to return with a great thud in her stomach as he clearly waited for her to speak.
“Um, you’re the cook?” she stuttered.
“Seems so. They wrangled me into this jig a while back.” He rubbed his jaw. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.” He wore his signature look of compassion—furrowed brow and lips slightly tilted downward.
She couldn’t find words. Why did he apologize to her? They weren’t accountable to each other. But deep down, she knew—she’d come to depend on him as her closest confidant. Hadn’t she already admitted that he was her friend? She also felt a twinge of guilt for not inviting him.
“It’s okay. Sarah Jessup suggested that I might find customers here.” It would be difficult to do so, as her heart was perfectly content to stay put by his side for the rest of the night.
“I’m sure you’ll meet plenty of ladies here who’re looking to have gowns made for winter,” he affirmed, his adorable dimple making an appearance.
She could get lost in his wide grin, a new source of encouragement in her life. Perhaps her only source of encouragement besides the Scriptures. Yet old aggravation crawled into her thoughts at the near contentment with this new friendship. Her mind had wandered into territory unbefitting for a mere friend—or a businesswoman wanting nothing to do with depending on someone. She mustn’t get carried away with silly emotions when so much was at stake.
Mrs. Hicks breezed between them and cupped Aubrey’s elbow. “Hello, dear. I was just telling some women about you taking on some mending for me. They seemed mighty interested in your services.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hicks.” She cleared her throat. “You sure are a godsend.” A prayer of thanks crossed her heart. With excitement for her mission rekindled, she left behind the distraction of Cort and allowed Mrs. Hicks to whisk her away.
After Mrs. Hicks introduced her to their gracious hostess, Mrs. Patterson did nothing short of guiding Aubrey to each gal who might be in need of a seamstress, including three of her daughters-in-law.
Mrs. Patterson stated, “Trust me, I have raised my boys to find beautiful women, but I fell short in urging them to find practical ones.”
Most of the women were truly delighted by the fact that they could hire a dressmaker instead of squeezing one more task into their busy lives. By the time everyone’s plates were filled with second helpings, Aubrey had secured enough accounts to bring to Mr. Caldwell if he’d still have her. The perfect timing of this chuck wagon dinner assured her that God was on her side. Her heart spilled with thanksgiving. She couldn’t help but think of her mama and the ranch that didn’t seem so far off now.
She savored the robust beef stew with tender potatoes and carrots. Cort’s signature biscuits were even better with fresh butter, thanks to the Pattersons’ dairy cow. The evening promised to be near perfect after such a delicious meal.
A band of orange settled on the horizon like turned-up sun dust. Mr. Patterson’s ranch hand strummed a guitar amid the children’s laughter and the settlers’ chatter.
Aubrey sat beside Sarah. The tired mother squeezed her hand. “I am so happy for you.”
“Thank you. I would not have had the opportunity if it weren’t for you.” Aubrey squeezed back.
Mr. Jessup held out his hand to Sarah
. “Come on, dear. We should get you home to rest.” Aubrey declined to walk back with them and said she’d wait awhile. It would be faster to cut across rather than walk down to the Jessups’ and over to her land, anyway. The couple gathered their daughters, thanked the host and quietly said their goodbyes.
Aubrey’s gaze lingered on their shadowy figures growing distant on the plains. How different a father that Mr. Jessup appeared to be compared to her own! What was his flaw, if any? she wondered.
She sighed and glanced over at another man who’d jostled any previous notions Aubrey had formed. Cort’s sleeves were pushed up, and he sat on a barrel across the fire pit, whittling away. She couldn’t see his face beneath his wide-brimmed hat. Mr. Hicks and several other men had their backs to Cort. He may as well have been in a different county.
And then it occurred to Aubrey. Maybe he wanted to be ignored.
He was in hiding, wasn’t he?
“Miss Huxley?” Mrs. Patterson approached, fanning herself as if it were the heat of day. “Have you met Mr. Swanson?” She turned to see a lanky man with his hat pressed to his chest. The last glow of embers bounced their reflection on his balding head. Aubrey gave a timid smile.
A booming voice carried across the yard. “Swanson! Glad to see you here.” Mr. Patterson barreled across as if he’d seen a long-lost friend. Every eye was on their interaction now. Aubrey spied Cort’s own face from beneath his hat. She was confused by his expression. Was he angry or afraid? Even in the dimming light, he seemed pale.
“Thank you for the invitation. I’ll be heading back south before too long. Seems Alva will prosper just fine.” Mr. Swanson placed his hat on his head and hooked a thumb in his suspender.
“Only thanks to you, sir,” Mrs. Patterson gushed. “You’ve surveyed this new town of ours in record time, no doubt.”
Cort’s hat was now low over his face, and he whittled quickly. Her suspicion, first roused on the day of the race when the scout mentioned the land surveyor, was correct. This man before her had something to do with Cort’s secret. It seemed her tenant was squirming like a mouse caught by his tail beneath the paw of a large cat.
“Miss Huxley, I wanted to introduce you to our Texan guest,” Mrs. Patterson said.
Texas? Cort’s old place of residence. From what Aubrey knew, Texas was mighty big. Surely big enough that one man wouldn’t necessarily know another?
Mrs. Patterson yanked Aubrey by the arm to turn her squarely facing Mr. Swanson.
“Hello,” she murmured, trying to stuff the anger of being forced into introductions. After all, she did owe this woman much for gathering her customers.
“Good evening, ma’am.” Mr. Swanson’s nasal twang matched the wisp of a man that he was. Mrs. Patterson continued doting on the surveyor. It was hardly deniable that Aubrey was part of some overt matchmaking scheme. All that delicious food began to sour in her belly. She fiddled with her kerchief and caught Cort’s look just as he glanced up. A pleading filled his eyes, but not necessarily meant for her to see. His gaze roved around the party in a paranoid frenzy. Aubrey longed to calm him in this moment. He had proved to be a good tenant, a man of his word. In all this world, he was the only man to whom Aubrey had given her trust. And in all this world, he was the only man who’d given her so much—land, work and help with Ben.
But what had she given him in return? The chance to rent land that he had once rightfully won? Perhaps she owed him more than one deed to even the score, so to speak. If she could get close to calling it even, then maybe her ridiculous notion of swooning into dependency would flee. Was she willing to aid in hiding him for a secret she knew nothing about, though? A secret that he’d admitted could hurt others?
Cort curled his lips inward, taking in a visible breath. If she knew any better, she would think he was gathering up the courage to walk over and make himself known. The defeat in his face bulged. As he rested his chin on his chest, his face was concealed from her view once more.
Aubrey swiveled around. “You say you’re from Texas, Mr. Swanson?” She bustled between the chatty hostess and the land surveyor. “I’ve always heard the sky is bigger there.” With a hearty laugh, she took the arm he offered, but only half listened to his response as they strolled to the nearby benches. She would do her best to hide Cort from this man, and maybe one day she could discover how such a twig could frighten the strong, bold cowboy.
* * *
He may as well just keep on going. Kick this horse to a gallop and head east. He’d never been past the Mississippi. What was holding him back?
Certainly not Aubrey Huxley. She’d lied about trusting him, it seemed. First chance she got, she went prying into his past with that surveyor from Amarillo. And she seemed to enjoy it, too—taking his arm and chattering away. All the while, she peered at Cort after every mention of his home state.
Cort ground his teeth and groaned. Hadn’t he warned himself to not get attached to anyone? Especially a woman? If he’d only kept his heart to himself, this wouldn’t sting so bad. But right now, the image of Aubrey and the Texan burned worse in his memory than the day he’d found his brother amid the gunslingers who’d tried to take over the ranch up in Wyoming. It was bad enough that his mind was burdened by his past, but then to be exposed by this woman, no matter how pretty, ripped Cort’s spirit in two.
He steered the horse to the back side of his soddie and circled it twice, wondering if he’d ever see it finished. If Aubrey found out that she’d rented her land to an outlaw, she’d kick him out for sure. Or she’d promptly bring her new beau to the dusty threshold of Cort’s unfinished home. It was only a matter of minutes, maybe hours, depending on the mixture of business and pleasure in their seemingly entertaining conversation.
Cort dismounted, situated his horse and walked along the ridge above the creek. The moon was bright tonight. A coyote howled in the distance, prickling his skin with uneasy nerves. He stomped down to the creek bed. Snores came from Aubrey’s dugout.
If Ben didn’t hate him, he’d go check on him. But the young man had every right to grumble against him. No matter how much Cort tried to stay clear of trouble, it found him.
Guilt tightened Cort’s throat. He could barely swallow past a lump that had formed over this past hour. An old prayer spilled from his very soul: Lord, I just wanted more time.
“Cort?” Aubrey’s voice slid on the air like a cool winter wind. Soothing in the muggy night, but a chilling reminder of her tête-à-tête with the surveyor.
Cort met her at the bottom of the path. Her black hair shone silver, and in the dark night, her eyes held captive all the light they could gather from the small lantern in her hand.
“Didn’t realize you were going to show up so soon.” He stepped around her to head to his dugout, hoping she’d not yet confront him. Give him a night’s rest. Allow him the pleasure of freedom these last hours.
He followed the creek. Aubrey rushed up beside him and grabbed his arm before he ducked inside his dugout.
“Do you have nothing to say to me?” She was breathless and stern.
He bored a look into her searching eyes. “If only words meant nothing, Aubrey. But it seems you’ve no doubt had your fill of words tonight.” He shook off her hand. “Did your curiosity about my past not find satisfaction in interrogating Mr. Swanson?”
“What?” Aubrey’s mouth remained opened while she just stared.
He didn’t permit himself to look too long, but he assumed her hands had taken their usual position—on her hips. How could he admire such a willful creature? No, he must excuse his emotions once and for all.
“Do you believe I was being a snoop?” Aubrey’s voice lilted on a high note.
Cort chuckled. “And do you want to concoct a story that would prove otherwise? Come on, Aubrey. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of us. And who’d blame you for wanting to know the d
irt on a man who’s sleeping just down the crick?” It didn’t make sense that, when she began to boil, he delighted even more in her steam, but his heart sped up at the furious passion in her face. This woman was strong and beautiful and determined. Always ready and willing to prove herself just and worthy. If he could prove himself the same, he would. But there was no use fighting for an ideal.
“Do you think I would sit right there, with you staring your fool head off at me, and question another man about your secrets?” Now she leaned in, glaring enough to melt the moonlight from her eyes and wash her face in its glow. But he doubted there would be tears from this woman. Not with angry fire pursing her lips, knitting her brow and burning in her pupils.
“You’re telling me that you didn’t ask him about me? You know that he’s the reason I gave up the land in the first place. You guessed it on our first trip to town.”
She gaped, then huffed into a slouch. The crickets and shushing sound of the wind in the prairie swelled in the silence.
Aubrey shifted her weight and dropped her hand from her hip. “Well, I might’ve considered it, for the briefest moment.” Her head hung low, and she shook it slowly. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “But all I wanted to do was help you tonight. Promise.”
“I thought you were spiting me with every look as you talked with him,” he said.
“I was only talking to him—” She looked away, her hair floating on the breeze and caressing her cheek. “For you, Cort. To keep him away from you.”
“Why?” The word tumbled from his lips before he could even think. The rich aroma of soil from the dugout scented a new breath of hope. And with it came an irresistible urge to lift her head. He inched closer, his pulse pumping in his ears.
“To pay you back.” She faced him with a look of determination. “You’ve done so much.”
Cort pulled his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. He’d never considered that Aubrey was distracting the man. For him? His torso trembled with his effort to keep his emotions under control.
