by Angie Dicken
“Of course I do.” Aubrey stifled her tears. This was all happening so fast. As Ben took slow but determined steps in the colorless dusk, she couldn’t believe how everything was coming into place. A life to herself, one she’d sought out that day in September, was now finding her at the onset of winter. Ben would return home, and Cort was leaving. That was how it should be. The cowboy was nothing but a temporary ranch hand—and the man who’d given her the deed to the land.
“Good job, Ben.” She came up alongside him. “Let’s get supper going, shall we?”
Together, they started the fire and began heating up some beans.
“I’m glad you saw the place, Ben.” She began to doubt sending him off. It was not like their father had come looking for them. But she must get herself established in case he did. “I want you to come back one day, when I am all set up.”
“One day. Who knows what Pa’s got going on back home. I’m sure he needs me there.” Ben stirred the beans, glaring at them as if he might see the future if he looked hard enough. Or maybe trying to convince himself that he was needed by a man who seemed to use people more than depend on them. There was a bond between a father and son that she dared not try to sever. She feared it would hurt Ben worse than a broken leg.
“And Liza’s waiting. Hope she’s taking care of that dress.” She patted his shoulder. “Going down to gather some water, and then we can get those letters ready.” She gathered up the pail and headed to the creek bed.
The rudimentary path Cort had first carved out for their many trips to their dugouts was proof of all the life she’d lived on the prairie already. They’d worn it out in their journeys to the creek and retiring from hot days to sleep beneath the very earth that was hers. As she crossed along the dried portion of the creek bed, she spied the dugout that was first a gift to her and then a returned gift to Cort. He’d worked so hard—for her. Not because of anything but his need to help. Nothing like her father. Or any man she’d met. And now her ranch hand, and her friend, would leave. The day had finally come.
She looked up at the twilight sky and spotted the moon far to the west. One day, she’d hire help. And a family man, one whose wife and children would also live on the ranch, would be the most dependable person.
What if Cort asked to stay here with his family? They were friends, after all. Their friendship was one that rose from necessity, but it was a friendship just the same. Her heart raced as she neared closer to his dugout. She’d stolen kisses from a man who was already taken. Regret began to swim in her soured stomach. No, he couldn’t live here. And it wasn’t just because of his betrayal. Aubrey couldn’t live day in and out watching Cort care for another woman.
A long sigh escaped her. It was beyond her reasoning. She might not ever admit it aloud, but she knew it to be true, no matter how awful. Jealousy overtook her at the thought of that Cassandra Stanton.
She turned around and stomped back toward the path up the embankment, more determined than ever to build her dream, her mama’s dream, without depending on anyone. A lot of good came from having Cort’s help these past months, but it seemed that Aubrey had become too soft in the process. She should not give another minute of consideration to her confusing feelings toward another woman’s man.
Ben met her at the top of the ridge. “Cort has visitors. Didn’t even care that my cast is off. Didn’t even notice.” The typical agitation creased his brow at his mention of Cort.
“Don’t let that get to you. It seems Cort’s family surprised him with a visit.” Aubrey forced herself to stare only at her sod refuge. “Come on, brother. Give me the letter to Pa. I’ll post it tomorrow along with a letter of my own.”
This peaceful day was sabotaged by a storm of uncertainty. It seemed best for everyone to go their separate ways and leave Aubrey to her original plan. She hooked her arm around her brother’s and they carefully made their way to the house. A light flickered to her left, in the old clearing where they’d first set up camp. She could make out the outline of two people.
Cort and his sweetheart, Cassandra, obviously wanted to be alone.
Chapter Fifteen
“Seems your little house is cozy enough for Trevor.” Cassandra spread out her skirt on the blanket. Cort walked around the fire and crouched a good distance away. “He fell asleep without any dinner.”
“You’ve traveled a long way to find me, sister.” Cort swallowed hard. “Now that the boy isn’t in earshot, how’d it happen, Cass? How did Charles die?” He dug his nails in his palms, trying to feel something more than the overwhelming loss. His brother might have heaped trouble on both of them, but Cort had loved him nonetheless.
“Typical Stanton way. A brawl at Ted’s saloon. Got sideways with a man from El Paso. Similar to your daddy, huh, Cort?” Her cynical smirk spread amid the dancing light on her pretty face. “As far as I’ve been told, Charles started it.”
He sat back, hooking his arms on his knees. “The man had everything going for him.” Cort had made sure of that. He’d been determined to serve a sentence within the four walls of a prison. All for that little boy curled up on a pallet on his fresh-swept floor. “If only he’d seen how good he had it.”
Cassandra leaned on her palm, pressing her cheek to her shoulder as she looked at him through her long lashes. “He didn’t see it, did he? But you do, and you deserve the life that Charles refused.”
Cort snorted. “What makes you think I deserve anything?”
“We deserve happiness, Cort. After all I’ve been through with Charlie’s shenanigans, and you...well, look at what happened with you. You went to jail for murder, and the whole prison burned down around you.”
Cort grew tense as her words knifed the quiet night air. He’d never allowed them to form on his tongue, and now his sister-in-law released them for any listening ear. He darted his gaze around. The horses were tied in the usual spot. The orange of Aubrey’s lantern tinted the blackness from her window. What would Aubrey think if she heard all that Cassandra said?
Cort had expected to be cuffed and taken away before he’d ever have the chance to tell Aubrey. And in a way, that’d be best. If he’d get to the point of explaining everything to Aubrey first, it would be at the risk of someone finding out that Charles was the guilty one. He would never live with that, even for love.
But now? Charles was dead.
Cort rubbed his jaw and dared to ask the question, even if he dreaded the answer. “How did you find me here?”
“A man approached me at Charles’s funeral. A Mr. Swanson. He said that he was up in Alva working and noticed your name. Was planning on telling the authorities after seeing the wanted posters, but then he heard about the brawl at Ted’s. He couldn’t bring himself to devastate the family any more. So, he told me where I could find you.”
“You mean, he’s not going to turn me in?”
“No. And I told him that I’d make you an honest man.” Her smile grew. “My mama’s all by herself down in San Antonio. Thought we could start over. You, me and Trevor.” She inched closer to the corner of the blanket.
He stood and began to pace. “Now, look, Cassandra.” He didn’t want to hurt her: she’d been through enough, what with losing her husband. But Cort knew her too well. She was a woman who would do anything to get what she wanted. And there was nothing she could do to persuade him. Even if it meant raising his nephew, whom he loved. He felt nothing but sorrow for Cassandra. “You want a husband who will cherish you and love you. I care for you very deeply. But as my sister. Nothing more. And besides, I have no desire to go south anytime soon. It would be risky, to say the least.”
She scrambled up and skirted around the fire till she was right up next to him. “Cort Stanton, are you playing hard to get?” She cocked her head. Her eyelashes fluttered and she gave him a wry grin. “You belong with me, Cort. I’m promising you a whole lot mor
e than this desolate prairie can offer.” She fiddled with his collar. As she searched his eyes, her ice-blue eyes rounded, reflecting the orange flames of the fire.
“I haven’t been happier in years than I’ve been here,” Cort said, looking over his shoulder at the inky black mass of his house, and the flicker of Aubrey’s lantern. His heart sped up as he thought of those afternoons spent building the walls in the company of Aubrey Huxley. And how close they’d come to being more than business partners. He longed for so much more at his weakest moments—when Aubrey laughed or softened enough to trust him.
“It seems the Oklahoma sun has dried up all your decency.” Cassandra crossed her arms and pouted. “Happier in years? Do you know all I went through to get up here? To bring you the news that you escaped a murder sentence because of that kindhearted land surveyor?”
“Now, Cassandra, Alva isn’t so bad. Why not stay here for a while? I can find you a nice room in town. I’d love to get to know Trevor again. He was only a little tot last time I was in Amarillo. All is not lost. You are my family, and I’ll be here for you.” He tilted her chin up. “I just can’t marry you.”
“Do you know how easy it will be for me to collect that money on your wanted poster?” She shoved her hand in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She flattened it out on his chest and crammed it in his hand. The notice announced a reward for his capture. A shiver went up his spine as she spit out, “Cassandra Stanton is not going to be humiliated by a prairie-struck cowboy.”
A sudden whinny split the tension. They both looked over to where the horses rested. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he felt as exposed as the newly built frames of the Main Street shops. The night air knew his secrets. He grew paranoid that it’d carry those secrets to the ears of others. Or worse, to Aubrey’s. Could she hear everything they’d said?
“What if I told you that I wasn’t the one who murdered that man? What if I told you that the only reason I was in jail was because I took the blame? I love your boy so much that I thought if Charles had a second chance, he would change his ways for his son.”
“What?”
“That’s right. Because I’d betrayed his gunslingers and alerted my boss before their arrival, Charles nearly disowned me. I had no idea that he was a part of the group until it was too late. They were all captured. Well, I hated myself for it, and even though I was happy in Wyoming, I paid Charles’s bail and he convinced me to go back to Texas with him. On our last night at camp, Charles killed a prominent cattleman and fled the scene. I was nearby and got caught. Of course, when questioned, Charles turned mute. I knew that you and Trevor needed him more than this world needed me. I was fine by it. After all, I don’t have the most noble of pasts. It was about time I paid my dues.”
“So it’s true?” Cass fiddled with her lip. “You didn’t kill that man?” She shook her head, seeming to reflect on more puzzle pieces than Cort had given.
“No,” Cort admitted. “I begged Charles to change. To take this as a chance to raise an upstanding family. To redeem our Stanton name down in Amarillo.” Cort wagged his head. “He obviously didn’t take me seriously.”
“No, he didn’t.” Her voice was small. She covered her mouth with her glove. A small hiccup and then a sob escaped through her fingers. “And I should have listened—”
“There’s nothing we can do now, except support each other.” He gathered her up in his arms to give her some sort of comfort. But she just slapped him and stormed off toward his house.
Cort sighed, kicking at an escaped ember in the dirt. Sleeping under the stars again. An old habit, but a welcome one. Although he felt the weight of the stars and moon on his shoulders and didn’t know if he’d get a wink of sleep. Poor Cassandra. Poor Charles. He felt his eyes sting with frustrated moisture. If only he’d found God before Wyoming, maybe he could have shared the Good News with Charles before his demise?
Cort dragged his feet to the blanket. He dropped to his knees. All he could do was pray. Before a supplication left his lips, he realized something was amiss. He squinted, hoping the black night was playing tricks on him.
Aubrey’s horse was gone.
* * *
“Cort?” Aubrey took tender steps toward the dying fire.
“Aubrey, someone stole your horse.” His voice shook as he approached from the trees to the west of the property.
Her heart sank. She had a hunch. “I am afraid it might’ve been Ben.” She pulled her shawl around her shoulders and knelt beside the weak flames. “He tried to get me to leave with him. Said it wasn’t safe here and we needed to go back to Kansas.” Aubrey’s pulse seemed to pound in her ears. “He said that the surveyor sent Cassandra here after seeing your wanted posters.” She grimaced. “I knew your secret had something to do with the law.”
“Aubrey, I can explain—”
She held up a shaking hand in protest. Ben’s well-being was all she could consider right now. “He has so much healing to do, I am afraid for him.” All the anxiety that had dogged her from the sidewalks of Alva to her sprawling acreage was now strangling her strength, squeezing out a flood of tears.
Cort’s muscular arm slid across her shoulders and she leaned into him, allowing his warmth to soothe her—until she remembered Mrs. Stanton. She pushed away. She mustn’t draw strength from this man one moment more.
“You have to tell me the truth, Cort.” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “What happened back in Texas? And why didn’t you tell me about your family, Cort? Why in the world would you hide a wife and child?”
“Wife?” He blinked. His lips slightly parted. Then he shook his head, gathering her hands in his, searching her face with a desperate tilt of his brow. “I’d never keep that a secret. She’s my sister-in-law, not my wife.”
Aubrey nearly let out a cynical snort. She tugged her hands from his. “So your sweetheart is your brother’s wife?”
“What?”
“Cassandra certainly made it seem that you were smitten.”
“What she implies and what is true are two different things.” He sucked in a jagged breath. “She came up here to tell me that my brother was killed. And she wants to try and make things work between us.”
The distant howl of coyotes carried on the night wind. All was still except the flickering flame and the dancing grasses.
“I am sorry about your brother,” she mumbled, her hand involuntarily reaching out and resting atop his knuckles.
“Thank you.” His emerald eyes were washed golden with the fire’s light. “And we’ll find Ben, I promise.” He turned his hand over and twined his fingers between hers. She bit her lip, watching the contour of his sun-tinted fingers caress her own. Her stomach burst with flutters. Crackles of wood eaten up by the flame serenaded them in the quiet night of an Oklahoma winter.
“I hope you know that I am not the kind of man to go and leave behind the woman I love. And it would certainly take more than a land rush to leave a wife and child behind.” His voice was low and gruff. He now placed his other hand on top of both of theirs. “I don’t love Cassandra.”
“You’d said that you missed your chance on love. I just assumed.”
“I missed my chance to love.” He squeezed her hand. “The future is not promising me one ounce of hope right now. And I can’t drag another person into that.”
Her heart leaped. So his mention of love wasn’t about his secret after all. How foolish she was to think that Cort would be devious like that. He had shown his loyalty and nobility all this time. At every turn of this adventure, Cort had been there helping and caring and giving her hope in a future bright enough for her mother’s watch in Heaven above. How could Aubrey doubt him for a second?
“You have changed my mind on many things, Cort.” She leaned toward him and gently cupped her hand on his stubbled jaw. His eyes danced w
ith excitement. “You are a good man, no matter your past mistakes. I don’t care about any of it.”
“You don’t know how much your words mean to me, dear Aubrey.” His nostrils flared and his jaw grew tense beneath her palm. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned tonight, it’s that no matter how many chances someone gets, the past still threatens.” He pulled his hands from hers. “Don’t get too attached, Aubrey. You deserve so much better than me.”
A sobering truth lay between them, thick like a massive wall that would never be torn down. No matter how much she could trust him, outside forces might steal him away and leave her crippled. She needed to stop depending on him. She’d given away too much of her independence already. How close she’d come to agreeing with him that her dream was sewing, not ranching. He was holding her back from Mama’s dream. Even if he wasn’t married, it was time to end this uncertain dance with the possibility that Cort Stanton would disappear and leave her alone. The more he was around, the more she wanted him to stay—almost more than the ranch she’d promised to build for so long. She mustn’t play this game any longer. He’d forfeited the land, and she’d won it. Ben had healed, and she had earned quite a bit from sewing. It was time for Aubrey to begin to separate her heart from her actions.
“With Ben gone, I’ll be able to manage much more on my own.” She rose to her feet, gathering up her shawl. Cort stood with her. “If you need to leave and help Cassandra back in Texas, then don’t feel obliged to me. I am ready to do what I set out to do long ago. Manage this ranch on my own.”
“There you go again, acting as though there was nothing to getting a hundred and sixty acres under your thumb. Aubrey, I am not saying that I won’t help.”
“Hush. I need to do this for myself, Cort. I can’t let my heart get in the way of Mama’s dream.”
“Your heart?” Cort’s voice softened. He stepped closer. His breath was warm on her forehead, and she fanned her fingers against his linen shirt, planning to push him away, but her touch melded into him.
