by Angie Dicken
“Cort?” Aubrey placed her hand on his forearm. “Do you understand? I wasn’t snooping. I just saw how upset you’d become—”
He placed his finger on her mouth. Hush, Aubrey. I understand. The gift she gave him not only secured him more time, but fanned the flame of what he sought in the opinion of men like Mr. Hicks and Mr. Jessup. Could Cort Stanton truly be considered a man worthy of such help? A man whose landlady would aid in keeping him anonymous because of trust and goodness? Was he a man who’d be defended by his neighbors when trouble came sniffing around?
Now this woman brought to life his hunch that second chances might just be ready to bloom on the prairie. She’d given him her allegiance as a friend, by word and deed.
He fought against the nagging in his soul. No attachments. It would only hurt in the end. Yet this woman had protected him with full knowledge of the possible danger behind his secret. Surely she knew there was risk in what she’d done. Perhaps she was willing to take the risk for him? Perhaps it wasn’t his job to protect her from himself when she so diligently displayed her loyalty?
Her lashes lowered across her eyes—a subtle curtsy. He cupped her face in his hands, holding her like a treasure. As he pulled her mouth to his, he inhaled her sweet fragrance, drinking in the hope she offered in her kiss. He should pull away. Step back and run from the trust he didn’t deserve. But her gentle lips caressed his own.
Yet, as his grasp grew firm, Aubrey pushed away from him.
“We can’t keep doing this.” She gathered in a jagged breath. The corners of her mouth tipped downward. “I just distracted that man because I owe you much, Cort. But I need to stop myself from being distracted. Spending our evenings like this is exactly that.”
Cort stuffed his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to step back. “You owe me much?”
“You’ve helped me. I wanted to repay you.”
“Aubrey, when will you realize that my helping you is not a form of debt, but because there’s nothing more that I would rather do.”
“Why?”
“Because—” He clamped his mouth shut. The answer was sprouting on his tongue but he couldn’t release it into the night air. The fragile declaration of his heart would ruin both of them. Suddenly, the wrestling inside him surrendered and his good sense prevailed. No attachments. No pursuit. The past wasn’t through with him yet. No matter the hope that grew from Aubrey’s considerate attempt to keep Texas away.
Not yet being caught by the authorities offered him a deceiving prospect of a future of freedom. But this wasn’t based on truth. Just feeling.
“Because you want to accomplish too much too soon.” He winced, anticipating the nerve he might’ve pricked with such an answer. It was only partly true. There was a lot more to helping Aubrey than assisting her to fulfill her excessive ambitions. He desperately wanted to see her succeed. There was a heartstring undeniably attached to this woman. He must do his best to not let it become a thread of destruction when the time came for his departure.
In Aubrey fashion, she grimaced and backed away. “Mr. Stanton, let’s not talk about priorities again.” But then her face softened. She brushed away the hair from her cheek. “Please, know that my intentions tonight were from friendship as much as obligation.”
A mixture of pride and dread set in as he watched her slip into darkness, only the small light of her lantern bobbing in the black. Aubrey’s favor toward him was delightful but frightening. He’d seen the damage done to those he cared for in the past, and now his heart swelled. But the disappointment that surely lay ahead was larger than any fancy, and the hurt was something he didn’t want to bestow upon anyone.
He made his way after her but hesitated.
Lord, thank You for Aubrey, but protect her, protect both of us.
His dugout was the safest place to be. No matter the wall he begged for God to put between their feelings, a vine of hope seemed to climb into his thoughts. Hope had been a stranger to Cort all these years, creeping in only since this wild prairie journey. Aubrey had kindled hope in his heart again. Even if he was quick to snuff it out.
Why’d he always have to assume the worst was ahead, instead of enjoying the best in the here and now?
Chapter Eleven
“You’re awfully intent on fixin’ that dress.” Ben adjusted to an upright position as he rested his back against the dirt wall.
“Be careful with your leg.” She barely lifted her eyes but could tell Ben was scowling. His near snort told her so. His attitude had steadily declined over the past month.
“You might be perfectly content down here sewing away. I’d rather be on a train to Kansas.” Ben flicked a stray button across the swept dirt floor. “Shouldn’t you be working on your house?”
“I am only able to work on the house in the evenings now. Mr. Caldwell is adamant that I get my first orders finished if I want to have access to his supplies indefinitely. He was stingy with his machine for the first couple of dresses. I have to do most everything else by hand.” It’d been a month since the chuck wagon dinner, and she had finished only two orders to completion. The last thing on her mind was the unfinished house. She’d rather sew than cut sod any day. “Cort doesn’t even get the plow until noon, and he needs it for his own house. How about you come with me to Alva? I am sure Cort will let you borrow his horse.”
He tossed a stick across the dirt floor. “Who knows where he got that horse? Probably stole it.”
“Ben Huxley, I was with him when he bought it fair and square.” Aubrey set aside her mending and gave him a hard look. His lips were hooked in a sneer. “Hasn’t Cort proved himself trustworthy to you? He’s helped you, and he’s been a friend.”
“Isn’t he the same cowboy who disrespected Pa’s horses?” His brown eyes were a thin slit.
Aubrey rolled hers. “Oh, please. He just spoke the truth. You know it.”
“Seems you’re more allegiant to that cowboy than your own flesh and blood.” He pulled out his own bag and took out some parchment. “I’m going to write Pa. It’s not right that we haven’t contacted him.”
Flesh and blood. How much did that truly mean when it was a breeding ground for bitter betrayal? Pa had betrayed her mother when she was alive, and in her death, and he’d cared more for his own business than loving his daughter. “He hasn’t come looking, Ben. I left him a pretty penny. I am sure that’s more precious to him than flesh and blood.”
Ben laughed and wagged his head.
“What?”
“For someone who’s so bitter against a man you’ve known all your life, you sure do trust a practical stranger.”
“Who, Cort?” Aubrey’s throat tightened.
“Yeah. The man who broke your own flesh and blood’s bones.”
“That’s not fair, Ben. He proved to be a perfect gentleman and a hard worker in only a handful of days.” She’d not seen that from her father, or Ben, in all her years.
Cort had been slowly unwrapping the dark cloak of cynicism given to her by her years with her father. While she still kept her promise to avoid any distraction to grow this ranch, she also prayed for God to work on her heart. The prairie was becoming ground for not only a new venture, but also a new perspective on life itself.
“Think what you want. But I feel like I’m lying in a grave. Cort may as well have dug it.” He took another stick and stuck it in his cast. The plaster was a nuisance. Even with the weather cooler than their first few weeks on the prairie, he often complained about his leg being hot and itchy. At least he got around on some crutches he’d fashioned with wood scraps they’d found in town. But the young man was restless and irritable.
Aubrey held her tongue. The quicker he’d heal, the sooner he’d leave, and then she wouldn’t have to prove herself to Ben.
“Hello?” Little Adelaide’s voice rang like
a tiny bell from beyond the quilt.
“Come in.” Aubrey set down her work. A mess of blond curls sprouted from beneath the child’s bonnet, and a cool breeze accompanied her.
Ah, thank God for October.
Aubrey stood, bending her head slightly below the ceiling. “Does your mother know you are here?”
Adelaide nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Jolene watched me get to the curve of the crick. I just wanted to show you somethin’.” Her blue eyes filled with excitement as she held out her dolly. “Look, I stitched an A on her apron.” She pointed a small finger to a very rudimentary letter A composed of three crooked stitches. “I did it all by myself. Mama told me your name starts with A, just like mine.”
Aubrey laughed. “That’s right. And what a fine seamstress you are becoming. Come. Let’s allow Ben to rest.” Aubrey carefully put her work in her basket and scooted the girl out of the dugout.
“Can you bring your button box? I just want to look,” Addie said.
“Of course.” Aubrey reached across Ben, grabbing her tin. She also gathered up his knife and half-whittled piece of wood and plopped them on his lap. “At least Cort taught you to whittle.” She kissed his forehead.
For a brief moment, his rounded eyes held a softness about them, almost remorse. He turned his head away.
Aubrey sighed. Doubt wormed its way into her heart. How could she choose a friend over flesh and blood? How could she not? The shining example of the Jessups’ tight-knit family crept into her mind. It was as unfamiliar to her as her first push of the plow.
Lord, give me wisdom.
She joined the little girl up the path. Adelaide enjoyed spending time amid her sewing things. Her own mother had a nice sewing kit herself, but an attachment had formed when Aubrey became Addie’s doll’s exclusive dressmaker. Sarah had mentioned it was a relief to know that her youngest daughter wasn’t completely distraught by the lack of attention she received with this pregnancy coming to an end.
They sat beneath the shade, sorting through the buttons. From the corner of her eye, Aubrey spotted more progress done on Cort’s soddie. While the child was intent on ordering the buttons from largest to smallest along her apron’s hem, Aubrey was drawn out from beneath the tree’s canopy. Clouds streaked above, streaming by with the wind. Yet they moved against the direction where she was headed. In her contemplative state she wondered if it was a sign that she might be going in the wrong direction. After all, she’d crept closer to her hired cowboy’s soddie a few yards from where Adelaide sat.
His past lurked in the shadows. The mention of it was the one thing that turned Cort pasty white. There might be some sense in Ben’s skepticism. She’d seen firsthand how a man could bring a good woman to a life of misery.
While she inched closer to their houses, the swiftness of the sky also reminded her of the speed with which Cort’s secret could catch up and leave her all by her lonesome. Being alone was her plan all along. But was it still her heart’s desire?
She stopped amid the whipping grasses. The roof of Cort’s home was intact, and she admired it from where she stood.
Can I truly establish all this on my own?
Aubrey scoured the racing heavens. God, You will provide for me, no matter what Your plan for Cort is, won’t You?
A ray of sun pierced a cloud and startled her eyes to a close. She turned and began to walk away.
I’ll only go where You lead, Lord.
Cort may have taught her to trust and shown her what compassion could be, but she felt like a tumbleweed tossed about by the prairie’s breath when it came to this growing dependence. She scolded herself. Another ranch hand would come along to help if he went away.
But there was little comfort in that.
She peeked around the corners of each house. He wasn’t there. Shortly after she returned to Adelaide, the rumble of hooves and a wagon grew near. Cort was coming up from the west, heading straight toward them with a wagon full of timber.
“Whoa!” He brought his horse to a halt and dismounted. His grin sparkled as he approached. “Good afternoon, Boss.” Cort winked at Adelaide. “And pretty little lady. Looks like you found what you were looking for earlier.”
“Did she come by before?” Aubrey watched the child stack buttons carefully atop the box.
“She did. Proud as ever to show you a few stitches she’d sewn.” His emerald eyes searched Aubrey’s face, as if she were his own sought-after find. If any other man looked at her that way, she’d slap him. But with Cort, trust encapsulated every feature.
She breathed deep, turning her attention to the cart. “What’s the timber for?”
He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his wavy chestnut hair. The curl against his collar distracted her for a moment, and then she turned completely away, walking over to the merchandise.
“Now, hear me out, Aubrey.” He came up behind her, a hint of apology in his voice. “I couldn’t help myself. Now that my house is nearly done, I’ve got to have something to occupy my time. This timber is perfect for a fence.”
Aubrey spun around. “I need to make my own purchases, Cort. I don’t want any debt.”
“You can pay me back. But I’ll go crazy without something to keep my mind off...” He bit his lip.
“Off what?” Aubrey tried to shoo away the dread that filled her every time he hinted toward that secret thief coming to steal him away.
Cort’s mouth parted and he stepped closer. “My mind’s always reeling. Especially with a beautiful boss around.” Her heart stuttered when his flirtations crept into their conversation. “Aubrey, your friendship means the world to me. If the ranch is important to you, it’s important to me, too.”
“Do you think you’ll be here to finish the fence?” Desperation filled her heart. They’d found a sweet rhythm together. Each evening they shared a meal and enjoyed the peace of the prairie after a long day of work. Aubrey’s work was less laborious than Cort’s, as she had let her soddie sit unfinished to create smartly trimmed dresses.
“I am praying. Praying that my second chances are lifelong.” He winced. “Pray with me?”
“Of course.” Aubrey dropped her gaze to her fingers, which fiddled with her apron. She didn’t budge when Cort grew closer. He swept away a strand of her hair and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
Lord, prepare me for our goodbye.
* * *
The land surveyor left town without crossing Cort’s path. The confrontation Cort had fabricated in his mind would never happen. He tried to convince himself that he would never get caught, hoping some relief would lift from his burdened soul.
He tamped the fence post into the hole as his brain reeled. Aubrey was just across the creek bed, on the higher ground, reluctantly finishing up the last of her sod walls.
He chuckled to himself. It had taken a good long while to convince her that starting on the fence before she could pay him was necessary. Who knew what winter would bring? If the ground froze, that could set her back a few months before she could keep horses. After considering it, Aubrey had given in.
“Got to do something to move my plan forward,” she had mumbled, tossing aside a dried-out sod brick that broke into pieces when it hit the ground.
This afternoon, she appeared frantic to finish her house. Her cheeks were red, and her dress disheveled with streaks of dirt that matched those on her face.
“You doing okay over there?” he yelled across to her as she fumbled atop a ladder.
“Fine.” Her answer pierced the air like a venomous arrow. He imagined that she grew more red as she threw her voice.
He should help her, but he’d committed to this fence now. Building it across the creek bed was a twofold decision by Cort. Aubrey would need a fence in the long run, but Cort needed the distance for his heart and hers. Still, he hadn
’t planned for the pleasant surprise of watching her as he worked.
The day drew to a close, and after washing up, he began to cook the evening meal. Now that Aubrey had partaken of his cookie talents, she refused to cook for him. Burned beans were no longer on the menu.
The sky blushed with the setting sun. Aubrey appeared from the creek bed after eating with Ben. Her tiny silhouette grew closer. Yes, he could live like this for the rest of his life. And he almost believed he would. He flicked that thought away and focused on this moment as if it were his last on the prairie—a safer way to keep his heart from tangling with Aubrey’s.
“Keep that fire bright. I’ve got plenty of work ahead of me tonight.” Aubrey settled on a blanket, placing her large sewing basket between them.
“You don’t seem to be fretting much.” He leaned on his elbow.
Aubrey shrugged. “It’s my own doing. I love to sew.”
“You’ve accomplished a lot, Miss Huxley, in a short period of time. Obtaining land and a small business.” And even more that he dared not mention. “Perhaps I was wrong about your priorities after all. You amaze me.”
He focused on the fire, but from the corner of his eye, he saw her cheekbones lift with a smile.
“My accomplishments have left me sore and tired.” She straightened her spine then rolled her neck back and forth. With a sigh, she began to pull out her sewing.
“Your house is almost complete. In record time for a seamstress.” He shifted away, ready for her to strike at his jest.
“I might remind you, Mr. Stanton—” she spoke with a pin between her teeth and her attention on her work “—I am the landlady. I can kick you out whenever I please.” Her eyebrows were arched high. If it weren’t for the smiling eyes and the past month of intermittent affection, he’d have taken that as a sinister warning. She shook her head and resumed with needle and thread, studying the stitches as she made them.
He just watched her. Her face filled with peace and joy as she toiled. He’d not seen her like this since the day she’d chatted with the ladies at the chuck wagon dinner. From what he could hear at his skillet, the conversation had been all about her sewing. Sewing was certainly a different kind of work than what he enjoyed. Those tiny stitches would have frustrated him as much as sod-laying brought the anger out in her.
