The Outlaw's Second Chance

by Angie Dicken

  “I meant—” What did she mean? Where was her heart invested? In threads and buttons? Or in this man who’d given her a chance to trust again?

  “I meant that you tripped up my heart, Cort. There’s no denying that.” The last fortress wall fell, and Aubrey’s heart was now exposed to the full. She thought it would make her shrivel into weakness, but right now, she felt strong and alive as she owned up to the effect of this handsome cowboy.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that.” His chin jutted out in a challenge. But his eyes smiled bright.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have asked.” She looked away, unable to hold such an intense stare as Cort’s.

  He rocked back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. It seems that everything is catching up with me now.” His voice was a contemplative growl. “Tonight, I found out that all I’ve been hiding from you was in vain. My brother is dead, and the truth won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

  “The truth?”

  “The truth about my crime.” He gathered her up, a hope-filled grin on his face. “I was caught for my brother’s crime. I didn’t want to admit his guilt to anyone for fear that he might be found out and his little family will suffer. But he’s gone and gotten himself killed in the end.”

  “Then you are innocent? Nobody is coming for you?” That unfortified heart of hers began to beat wildly again.

  A storm brewed in his eyes, on his brow. His arms tensed against her waist. “I am not sure. Cassandra is primed for revenge since I refused to marry her. She wants to collect the reward money.”

  Aubrey couldn’t stop a smile from growing. That woman was all that stood in his way to true freedom? “Surely your own sister-in-law wouldn’t turn you in?”

  Cort guffawed. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s more of a spitfire than even you are.” His dimple appeared with a crooked grin.

  She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Well, I’d never turn in an innocent man. I doubt that she could, either. Nobody else is coming for you?”

  “I—I don’t think so.”

  The stampede of flutters filled her stomach as this rotten day ended and her heart soared to a height greater than the twinkling stars above. “Then you’ll be my ranch hand tomorrow? And the next day?”

  His lip hooked upward. His arms no longer tensed, but pulled her against his chest. “And the next, God willing.”

  She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. They were soft, sweet with peppermint. He pulled away, but Aubrey only searched for them again, satisfying her tingling mouth with his gentle touch once more. Her senses were completely consumed by this cowboy’s hold. His familiar taste, his earthy smell mixed with leather and the force of his grip, powerful but somehow gentle, like he held something fragile and dear.

  At this moment, with the prairie wind slipping in and out of their embrace, Aubrey forced herself to release any doubt. She surrendered to an even bigger dream—sewing, ranching and Cort. Loneliness was no longer something she’d have to own. It was no longer a part of her dream. She had never imagined all she’d find that day of the land race.

  Cort’s fingers laced into her hairline at the base of her neck, and his lips pressed more determinedly upon her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lashes fluttered, skimming his cheek. He pulled her closer. Cort Stanton was the very reason her dream had come true.

  He clasped her elbows. The cold air met her lips as he shoved her out in front of him.

  “I’m sorry, Aubrey.” His eyes were large and round and desperate. “This isn’t fair to you. Just like I said before, I would never do anything as rotten as leave a woman behind. And I can’t make any promises to stay here.” He snatched his hat from the prairie floor and crammed it on his head. “Even if Cass doesn’t turn me in, who knows when word will get around down south? That surveyor knows it’s me up here. It’s only a matter of time.” His nostrils flared and his jaw flinched. “We mustn’t continue like this when there might not be a next day.”

  He walked away into the dark, moonless night, leaving Aubrey heartbroken. She longed for a chance to give Cort the assurance of his future, just the same as he had given her.

  She cared enough for this man to want what was best. She might not have convinced Ben of his noble character, but Cort Stanton deserved to know that he was a good man. At least she’d had the chance to tell him that.

  * * *

  Two days passed, with Cassandra and Trevor taking over his soddie. Cort had moved back to his dugout. Cassandra threw a fit whenever he tried to come inside the house, and it was enough to keep him away. Every once in a while, Cort would spy his nephew playing around the trees and he’d have a chance to make acquaintance with the only Stanton young enough to truly change their reputation.

  The boy warmed up to him gradually. Trevor was more into chores than Cort had ever been at his age. On the second day, he helped build a fire for the noon meal and then gathered water from the creek.

  “Good job, Trev. Good honest work never hurt anyone,” he reminded his nephew after each job well done.

  By the end of that second day, the boy’s wide grin brightened Cort’s hope that Cassandra might cool down and muster up some loyalty for her brother-in-law.

  On the third morning, the sky was too overcast for Cort to keep his spirit up. Only by the high-pitched reprimands coming from his house did he know that Cassandra was still on the property. Every time he heard her, the hair on his arms stood on end. The less he saw her face, the more he wondered what she might be scheming behind those dirt walls.

  He began to stomp toward the eastern part of the land to begin building another fence. It would be good to get the post holes dug before the ground froze, and it was a decent amount of work to forget his grieving heart—for his brother, but also, for the gloomy future that’d keep him from following the greatest desire of his heart: a life with Aubrey.

  “Want some breakfast?” Aubrey stood at the corner of her house, holding the handle of a kettle with one hand and cradling a basket in the opposite arm. Her eyes were bright in the pale morning light, and her usual ivory skin was complemented by a rosy pink along her cheekbones. Loose strands of hair danced about her shoulders in the prairie breeze. She was beautiful. “You’ve been skipping breakfast lately.”

  “You noticed?” He winked at her, unable to resist coaxing her to smile. And she obliged, filling in for the sunshine that was lost on this day. He put his shovel against the pile of firewood. “I am sorry that I couldn’t find Ben.” He’d gone into town each day, searching for her brother and her horse. But there was no sign of either, and no witness of a man with a sore leg and a strong brown mare. A foreboding gloom clung to Cort’s spirit.

  “It is what it is. He is a grown man. His choice to leave makes it easier in a way.” She offered the basket to Cort. He took it and she grabbed a mug and poured him some coffee. “I pray that he’s safely back in Kansas now.”

  Rocks rolled in his stomach. After all that was said with Cassandra that night by the fire, he’d wondered how much Ben might have heard. Her horse was stolen during their conversation, wasn’t it?

  He squatted to his knees and hung his head. “If I recall correctly, he didn’t stick around to hear the whole story.” The whinnying of the horse had interrupted them before he explained his innocence.

  Ben had left here thinking Cort Stanton was a criminal. But did he know that he was wanted for murder?

  “Well, if I ever get a chance to see him again, he’ll know the truth. Promise you that.” Aubrey squeezed his shoulder as she walked past him. “I’m sorry I led him to believe you were—”

  Cassandra cleared her throat from his doorway. She looked as though she was ready for an outing more than emerging from a self-imposed two-day house arrest. Her hair was neatly pinned on top of her head, and
her dress was a bright cobalt blue.

  “Good morning, Cort.” Her cool demeanor iced the air as she walked toward them. “And...Miss Huxley.”

  Cort gave Aubrey a questioning arch of his eyebrow. Aubrey seemingly understood and explained, “We crossed paths at the creek while you were collecting the posts from town.”

  Did Cassandra spy on him all day to see when he’d leave so she could come out? No doubt. The woman was nearly as stubborn as his brother.

  “Would you care for a biscuit?” Aubrey offered her basket.

  “I would. I am famished. And I am sure Trevor will be starving when he wakes up. A few cans of beans will only carry one so far.” After taking a couple of biscuits, she turned to Cort, her sapphire eyes bubbling with tears.

  “I am wondering if you can take Trevor and me into town.”

  Besides the aggravation from her taking over his home, a sudden rush of compassion filled him. Her sallow cheeks and turned-down mouth were pitiful. The once-rosy lips were pale and chapped. He could almost make out old tear trails. Prairie life did not do this city girl well at all. Even if she came here for the wrong reasons, Cassandra and Trevor were family—the part of the family he’d sacrificed his freedom for. Perhaps he could sway her to ignore that reward money.

  “I’d love to spend some time with Trev,” he said truthfully. “Cassandra, you are welcome to stay awhile. I have a fine dugout that I can sleep in.”

  At that moment, the little boy ran out from the soddie, his face red and his eyes wide with fear. “Mama! I didn’t know where I was. Thought you’d sold me or somethin’!”

  A low rumbly laugh emerged from Cort, and he finally allowed his shoulders to loosen. Nothing like a child to bring some lightness to a situation. He knelt down in front of Trevor, who was hanging on to Cassandra’s skirt.

  “We’ve been having some mighty fine conversations, haven’t we, Master Stanton?” He reached out to tousle his dark Stanton hair. Cassandra turned him away from Cort’s reach.

  “Don’t you touch him,” she seethed. “You aren’t treating us like family now. Not after the mess you’ve gotten us in.”

  “Mess?”

  He skittered a look to Aubrey, whose eyes were as big as chestnuts.

  “You think it was easy for me to come all the way up here?” Cassandra dug her fist in her hip. “That man down in Amarillo did us a favor by not turning you in, and instead of being thankful and stepping up to take care of your family, you brush me off like an acquaintance. Well, no more, Cort Stanton. I am through with you no-good Stantons.”

  His jaw dropped. The realization of what she’d said crept across Trevor’s face. He peered up at his mama, his button nose all scrunched up. “But, Mama, we’re all Stantons.”

  She faced her son and bent down level with him. “We’ll fix that, dear. Your gran and pop are Wilburs. So am I, and you are half me.”

  “Now, Cassandra, that’s not right.” Cort’s lip trembled with anger. “Don’t talk to the boy like that.”

  “Just take us to town, Cort.” She turned briskly and walked away.

  He grabbed his hat and flung it on the ground. That woman! She didn’t know him at all. Didn’t she see anything noble in his act to protect their young family and take the blame for Charles? Did she even believe him?

  Aubrey gathered up the basket and kettle.

  “Wait.” He gently clasped her hand and pulled her away from her busyness. “I am not the man Cassandra implies. There is a lot in my past, like you know. But she only knows the old me.” He gritted his teeth. If he had something to punch right now, he would. How that woman riled him up in the worst way.

  Aubrey slipped her fingers from his palm and pressed her hand against his cheek. “Don’t worry, Cort. I know you. Really.” The warmth of her smile melted the icy silence Cassandra had left behind. He stepped closer to her, wanting to promise to always be there for her.

  But he couldn’t promise her that, could he?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aubrey kept busy, trying to convince herself that the peace and quiet of a lonesome land was welcome in her future. But her heart ached from memory of the broken look on Cort’s countenance as his sister-in-law spewed hateful words.

  There was a time when Aubrey had been tempted to give in to the same vulnerable pain Cassandra showed. An outpouring brought on by loss. Aubrey knew it well after they’d buried her mother and she’d caught Pa scouring the room for Mama’s savings.

  Aubrey had been in the kitchen with the neighbors, receiving meals, trying her best to forget the smell of Mama’s fine powder that enveloped her from the high lace collar of her dress. It must have remained there from the last time Mama had worn it. The silk taffeta gown with the neat row of shank buttons down the front, whose collar and cuffs she’d enhanced with leftover glass beads from the shop, was her mother’s best dress. The last time Aubrey had seen Mama wear it was the day she’d gone to make her first purchase of full breeds.

  “Oh, darling, this old thing will just gather dust once we are true ranch owners. Life will be too busy to get fancied up,” Mama had said while Aubrey helped her hang the dress in her wardrobe. “But since you like it so much, I want you to wear it next. You’re catching up with me fast with those long legs of yours.”

  Who’d have known that the first time she’d get the chance to wear it was at Mama’s funeral?

  Aubrey had said goodbye to the last of the neighbors, then gone upstairs to find out what all the rummaging was about. That was when she’d caught Pa. He’d admitted it forthwith, without a look of remorse, and he’d kept on looking but never found it. How she’d wanted to disown Pa at that moment. But she had nowhere to go. Just like Cassandra probably felt as a widow.

  There was one thing different, though. Cassandra had lashed out at a man who was nothing like Aubrey’s father. Cort Stanton would never steal from her. Well, the one thing that cowboy had stolen besides her breath on occasion was her heart. And a stolen heart was nothing she cared to admit, or risk chasing after, with her future as unsettled as the darkened skies.

  She began to sweep her westward-facing back porch, smelling the fresh scent of moisture in the air. She wondered if rain would come soon. They needed it, that was for sure.

  Cort returned from town and tied up his horse. He crossed over the property with his hands shoved in his pockets and a piece of long grass hanging from the corner of his mouth. Once he drew closer, Aubrey could see the creases on his brow. He was deep in thought.

  She continued sweeping, even though her heart raced as he neared.

  Aubrey Huxley, this is no way to be.

  “Hello, Aubrey.” His rich voice was soft. “I got Cassandra and Trevor settled in a room at the Alva inn.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “I want to ask you a question.”

  “Very well.” She tried to keep her shoulders square, her chin up. “What is it, Cort?”

  “I’ve been thinking. There’s a whole lot of time to think on the way from Alva.” He lifted his head and squinted past her to the east. “It seems my family needs me.” Now his gaze was set on hers, a desperate, longing stare that flipped her stomach. His words scared her, but his look drew her toward him.

  “Of course they do.” What turmoil did her own face show?

  “What would you say if I gave Cassandra my house, and lived in the dugout for the time being—”

  “Oh, no,” Aubrey blurted. She could not live with that woman just across the way. “I don’t know how that would work... I—I don’t think we’d get along at all.”

  Cort bounced his head in a knowing nod. “She’s quite a spitfire. But she’s hurting, Aubrey. Maybe my future would depend on it?” He stepped onto her dirt porch and laced his fingers in hers. “Aubrey, if I could give Cassandra a fresh start out here, maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about
being caught anymore. If I could convince her of my innocence, then if the law does come around, I’d have the testimony of the criminal’s wife.”

  Aubrey searched his eyes, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands. “Do you mean...you’d marry her?” Her throat began to tighten. She begged her tears to stay away. There was no use in crying. Nothing this man was saying would stop her from Mama’s dream.

  But what about her own dream?

  Cort widened his eyes and chuckled deeply. “No, no, Aubrey.” He pulled her in so that her arms rested on his broad chest.

  Aubrey watched his mouth as he formed the words. “She’s not the woman I was hoping to marry.” His peppermint breath tickled her nose.

  Her ears couldn’t soak his words in fast enough. She wondered if she was hearing him correctly. Did she assume too much? But he squeezed her near. His lips brushed against her forehead. Her eyelashes batted closed, and her whole body melted.

  A loud rumble of hooves interrupted her anticipation for more glorious words from Cort’s lips. They separated and spun around.

  In the distance, two men galloped toward them. As they slowed, Aubrey felt a droplet on her hand. She peered up at the sky. Would it rain? She’d prayed for it often during the treacherous drought. Her thoughts halted. The man nearest to her slid off his horse gingerly.

  It was Ben.

  “What on earth?” she mumbled, unsure if she should embrace him. He stood stoic, with no kindness about him. The other man wore a uniform of some sort. Almost like the scouts on the day of the race.

  Cort put his hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should go inside, Aubrey? I assume this is about me.” He kept his eyes on Ben, who glared back at him.

  “No, she can stay. Seems she needs to know what’s going on sooner than later,” Ben growled. “Want to tell her what this is about, Cort Stanton?”

  “Why don’t you tell me, Ben.” Cort shifted, squeezing Aubrey’s shoulder and then releasing his hand.

  Doom coated her stomach like the gray clouds stuck in the sky. Another droplet. And another. As much as she’d wanted rain, a different storm was coming. She could feel it.