by Angie Dicken
Aubrey hadn’t flinched or turned away. He must figure out a way to build the walls around his own heart taller.
For his sake, but mostly for the sake of his landlady.
Chapter Seven
Aubrey lay awake early the next morning, wondering if she’d imagined Cort’s attention the night before. A man had never looked at her so affectionately, and yet it was deeper than that. Joy had blossomed with such fullness that she was anchored to the ground where she’d stood long after Cort had left. Perhaps that was the trap into which her mother had fallen when Pa first found her? Aubrey understood more clearly the ease of giving a heart away now. The danger of getting wrapped up in the attention of that cowboy could cause her to stumble into leaving all her ambition behind.
She released the curl from around her finger and sat up carefully, trying to not disturb Ben. She shuffled through her pack to find breakfast. When her fingers stumbled upon the cool tin sewing box, she swallowed the misery away. In the pale morning light she opened the box and feasted on a more dependable joy—memories of fine gowns and chatter with her mother and Maureen as they sewed. Aubrey scattered the many buttons she had upon her lap. Each one caught the sun with different intensities, painting a shimmering rainbow on her cotton skirt. Little Adelaide came to mind, and she picked up a fine scrap of linen from the bottom of the box. A perfect match for the deep pink silk dress of the little doll. She’d sew an apron for Addie’s doll. Aubrey tucked it in her pocket, along with a smaller tin of needle, thread and a bit of ribbon. Delight relieved her spirit of all its turmoil by the mere fact that a sewing project awaited. She tidied up and crawled out.
“Good morning,” Cort greeted her as she emerged. He’d steadied the board she had bought upright, leaning one elbow on its edge.
She scrambled to standing, brushing her skirt down around her ankles. “Hello,” she said as she pulled her hair back with a ribbon.
“I’d like to get Ben situated now, if you don’t mind. The Hickses are waiting for me.” He lifted the board. “Besides, it will be much more comfortable for all of us to do this in the cool morning.”
“If you can call this cool.” A film of sweat tickled at Aubrey’s hairline. “Any chance you need to go to town later on?” Aubrey lifted her hand above her eyes: the sun was already promising a scorching day. “I’d like a ride in so I can purchase a horse.”
A cloud swept over Cort’s expression, but then he livened with a grin. “If you promise to let me help you pick one out again.” He winked.
She took the board, warding off ill feelings toward her brother, who never let her ride the horse she’d bought. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Mr. Stanton. You seem to have a mighty big opinion when it comes to horses.” She begged the wild rush inside her to not flare upon her cheeks as she remembered his gentlemanly way at the camp. “But I’ll do just fine picking one out on my own. And besides, I am going to look for work, too.”
“I’ll probably not stick around for that.” He cracked his knuckles. His secret bound him to this piece of land. She’d forgotten that he was in hiding. A slight hook of his eyebrow revealed discomfort, and the confidence in the firm set of his lips seemed to teeter a bit. “My fingers are itching to get started on my house.”
“If you don’t want to take the time to go into town, I understand.” Aubrey could walk it. She dreaded the heat and the thought of abandoning Ben for another long afternoon, though.
Cort sighed and swiped his hand beneath his hat. “No, of course I’ll help you.” The tension in his jaw was apparent.
Aubrey resisted worrying about his apprehension. But then again, Cort had proved to have a generous helping of compassion for her needs. Should she offer the same to him? “If it will jeopardize you, Cort—”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Ben called out, “Aubrey!”
“We’re here.” She rushed toward him. “Here, sit up and drink.”
He leaned forward on his fist, pressing his elbow into his good leg. “It’s so hot. Can’t hardly breathe.”
Aubrey took her handkerchief and soaked it with what was left from the canteen. She placed the lukewarm press around his neck. “Better?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“The faster we get down to the dugout, the cooler you’ll be.” Cort squatted at the opening, his broad shoulders blocking most of the view.
A grimace contorted Ben’s face. “I don’t need advice from you.”
“Enough, Ben. He’s going to help.” Aubrey secured her fingers around his shoulders, hoping to suppress any sudden movements that might worsen his condition. His temper was too much like her father’s, and his ability to hold a grudge was identical to the old man’s.
“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled.
Once Cort dismantled the tent, they tried to help Ben onto the board. He jerked his arm away from Cort and dragged his splinted leg across the board.
Aubrey snapped at him, “Ben Huxley, if you do anything to hinder your healing, well, I’ll—”
“Have that cowboy break my other leg?” he seethed.
“Now, listen. I didn’t intend to—”
“Enough, both of you.” Aubrey battled a strange feeling of kinship here. And it wasn’t with her brother, but with Cort. She knew the truth of the matter—Ben had forced Cort to fight.
But that didn’t matter now. The only thing they needed to focus on was working together to get her brother to shelter. Cort carried one end of the board while she carefully maneuvered the opposite end by Ben’s feet.
“Okay, let’s carefully turn to the left.” Cort directed them to the top of the ridge.
Sweat stung her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “How are we ever going to manage down the slope?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it all worked out.” His white teeth gleamed, and he topped off his pleased expression with a wink.
Ben’s gasping and groaning stole her attention away from the playful cowboy at the lead.
“What is it, brother?”
“You try being escorted on a board in this blasted furnace. It ain’t too comfortable.”
Cort began to go down the slope, but it seemed smoother than Aubrey had expected.
She did her best to keep her hands level. The wood cut deep in her palms, burning more than the sun on her shoulders.
“What in the world?” She craned her neck out to see where the path led. Just beyond Cort, a carved-out path snaked at a gentle slope down to the creek bed. It was void of all rocks and roots that had previously decorated the face of the embankment in a gnarled mess. “Did you do this, Cort?”
He grunted as he took careful steps backward down the path. “I did. Figured I could help since I was awake and ready to work. Used the fill from my dugout to level it.”
This man insisted on taking matters into his own hands. Even if it was Aubrey’s land, her dream and even her brother, Cort Stanton was unable to sit by and take care of himself alone. He cared for others—something she’d rarely ever seen in a man.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to cry in sheer gratitude—and from the grief of years void of such kindness. “Thank you, Cort,” she mumbled.
His emerald eyes narrowed with a genuine smile and he tipped his stubbled chin down with a quick nod. “You are mighty welcome, Boss.”
* * *
Cort left Aubrey to tend to her brother, but she wasn’t far from his thoughts the whole ride over to the Hickses’ place.
Maybe it was a good thing for her to make residence on the other side of the creek. Out of sight, out of mind?
Not likely. Here he was in the middle of the prairie, thinking about that determined Aubrey, who’d insisted that she’d walk to town. Her grateful reaction to the path Cort had dug on her land yesterday only hooked him with that pesky hop
e again. She didn’t scold him for touching her land without permission. Just days ago, she’d given up a whole dugout for that very reason.
He worked beside Mr. Hicks until midmorning, when they took their first break. The unrelenting heat teased that it was already quitting time.
“How’s that boy, Mr. Stanton?” Mrs. Hicks was fanning herself as she sat in the shade of the wagon.
“He’ll be better now. Transferred him to a dugout this morning.”
“You tell Miss Huxley that I don’t mind watching him when she needs help. It’s nice to take care of a young man again. Reminds me of my boy. He’s now about your age.” A far-off look glazed Mrs. Hicks’s pale eyes.
“That’s kind of you, ma’am.”
Aubrey appeared in the distance, trekking past the grove of trees. She was just now setting out to walk to Alva?
Cort hadn’t acted too enthusiastic to take her when she’d asked. A chill shook his spine as he thought about exposing himself to a whole town of people. One man in particular crossed his thoughts more than once—the surveyor from Amarillo. Cort had seen his own wanted poster. His missing beard wasn’t enough of a difference. Surely he’d be recognized.
But Aubrey needed him. Even if she refused to admit it, a ride in town would be a lot quicker than walking. He couldn’t hide forever, could he? Perhaps Mrs. Hicks’s offer was a good excuse to offer Aubrey a ride to town?
“Mrs. Hicks? How ’bout I take it upon myself to accept your kindness to Aub—Miss Huxley?”
The older lady twisted her mouth in confusion.
“I see that Miss Huxley is on her way to Alva. It’d be much more efficient if I took her. Your offer to take care of her brother would certainly put her at ease, I’m sure.”
Mrs. Hicks nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I can mend over yonder just as well as I can here.”
“Mr. Hicks, do you mind if I make a run to town? Any supplies you need?” Cort asked.
“Well, actually, I could use some lumber for a door frame.” He took a swig from a canteen.
“Good. I can certainly do that for you.” Cort untied his kerchief from his neck and wiped his forehead. He helped Mrs. Hicks up on his horse, and together they rode across the prairie.
Aubrey stopped when they were a few yards away. She planted her hands on her waist. “Is something wrong?” She was breathless. Her puffy eyes and stained cheeks gave away that she had been crying. Cort immediately brought the horse to a halt, wanting to jump down and comfort her. Why did he care so much about this woman’s well-being?
“Mrs. Hicks offered to help with Ben,” Cort blurted.
“Oh?” Aubrey gave a weak smile to the lady. “There’s no need. I just sat with him for an hour or so. He’s resting now.”
“I certainly don’t mind, Miss Huxley. You’ve got your hands full on this prairie. I’d hope to be as good of a neighbor as I can.” She patted her bag. “And I brought some biscuits to share.”
Aubrey bounced a stare from Cort to Mrs. Hicks. “If you insist, that will be a nice comfort knowing he’s taken care of.”
“I’ll take her to the ridge.” Cort clicked his tongue and the horse began to trot. “Oh, and Aubrey, I can give you a ride into town. Mr. Hicks needs a few things.”
He never took pride in helping a woman. He had just expected to when times arose. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. Cort would rather be a gentleman than a coward hiding like a prairie chicken.
When he returned from dropping off Mrs. Hicks, Aubrey was sitting beneath a tree. He offered her his hand.
“What about being seen?” She shoved her hand in his as he helped her up.
He couldn’t contain his smile, nor the frenzy of nerves at the mention of being noticed. “Are you trying to protect me, Miss Huxley?”
“No. I just thought...” She twisted her lips in thoughtful consideration. “I just figured it was about time that I get around without borrowing your horse.”
“Oh, I see.” He settled in the saddle in front of her, unable to ignore the notion that she was protecting him. To feel that sort of care from a woman like Aubrey?
Cort nearly whistled.
Although the sun was in full force, he didn’t mind the warmth of Aubrey’s arms around his waist one bit. They rode quietly toward Alva, Cort being tempted to ride on past. He was held captive by this woman. He needed to be on guard as the pea-size tents and half-built buildings sprang up on the horizon, but all he could do was breathe in the delicate lavender and lace his fingers around hers. She would have none of it, pushing away from him. “Cort Stanton. That’s enough. We’re nearly in town.”
She was right. He squared his shoulders and rebuked himself for getting caught up in a daydream that had no business rolling around in his mind.
“I’ll get off at the start of the wooden walk. I need to purchase a horse and find some work,” Aubrey said.
“Fine by me. I’m heading over to get some lumber for Mr. Hicks.” As he brought his horse to a hitch, he noticed the land office south of town. His teeth clamped together. An ache stretched wide along his jaw.
The dust had barely settled from their ride in town before he spotted the surveyor entering the land office. And he looked familiar. A seed of dread sprouted a strangling weed in Cort’s throat. He fingered his collar and pulled it away from his sweating neck.
If the surveyor from Amarillo seemed familiar to him, would Cort be easily identifiable? Had to be. He was a notorious Stanton, wasn’t he? And an outlaw. Even if it wasn’t by his own doing.
With his head low, he tied up his horse. “Meet back here in an hour?”
“Are you okay, Cort? You’re pale.” Her concern would’ve melted him at any other time. “Is it that surveyor?”
“I’m fine. Meet you in an hour.” He turned and bulled his way across town. He came to the train depot where piles of lumber and crates were sorted, and townsmen picked through the merchandise. Cort kept his head down and looked through the merchandise. He found the beams Mr. Hicks would need, and then some for his own home—and for Aubrey’s. His insides twisted with torment for his love of work and his love of working for her. Denial was his close friend, assuring him that he only enjoyed filling an obligation to his landlady.
“Howdy, Mr. Stanton.” Adelaide Jessup came up and tugged at his shirtsleeve. “I’m here with my pa.” His name aggravated his ears. He should’ve changed it. But his conscience had got the best of him when he first found freedom. Living a lie was not honorable in the least, was it? And if Cort wanted anything more in the world than freedom right now, it was to redeem his family name from trouble to honor. He couldn’t do that hiding behind falsity.
Cort’s anxiety lessened a bit at the sight of the round-faced child peering up at him. Her tall, lanky father loomed from behind her. Dave Jessup had kind pale green eyes framed by permanent laugh lines. His hair poked out from his hat—the same blond as Adelaide’s.
“Good morning, Dave.” Cort stretched his hand out to the man he’d met yesterday while working at the Hickses’ place. He’d asked for help turning his wagon upright, and of course, Cort had obliged. No matter how many acres lay between the landowners, there was a neighborly feel across the plains.
Dave gave a firm shake. “Cort Stanton. I was just talking about you to Gerald Patterson over there.”
“Oh, really?” Cort chuckled to loosen his nerves. Exactly what had they talked about?
“Gerald! Come here,” Dave hollered across the crowd in a booming voice.
A heat hotter than the Oklahoma sun no doubt shone from beneath Cort’s skin. Wonder who wasn’t looking in their direction? He cleared his throat and adjusted his hat to settle it just above his eyes. A broad man, with a starched shirt and a fine hat that certainly didn’t ride in the race, approached. His cordial smile seemed kind enough.
&n
bsp; “I told you about this cowboy neighbor of mine?” Dave placed a firm hand on Cort’s shoulder. “I think he’s the man for the job.”
Gerald measured him up and down with a thorough look. “You’ve moved cattle before?”
Cort rubbed his jaw, not sure what would give him away now.
A hearty laugh erupted from Gerald. “Pardon me for nosing around a man’s business before a proper introduction. I am Gerald Patterson.” He offered a strong, confident handshake. “We’re trying to muster up some help for a chuck wagon dinner in a couple weeks. My men just drove our cattle from down south but the cook’s heading back tomorrow for a family predicament. Hate that I promised a good meal to my new neighbors and might not deliver.” He rubbed the back of his neck and adjusted his hat. “Dave said you’re a cookie?”
By the eager way these men looked at him, Cort entertained the invitation. It’d been a long time since he’d cooked for a large group—a few years ago on the drive up to Wyoming. And only under the watch of old Jerry Lankin, the best cook in West Texas.
“I’m hardly a cookie now. It’s been a while.” He shifted his weight.
“If you know your way around a chuck wagon, Mrs. Hicks and some other fine folk would help you out, I’m sure,” Gerald suggested. “It would certainly give me a chance to keep my word, and for that I’d be ever grateful.” He seemed to be a gentleman through and through. Sincere eyes with a hopeful glint. There was nothing more honorable to Cort than the ways of a gentleman. He hoped to adopt such chivalry before it was too late.
But, as tempting as it was, Cort would be cooking for who knew how many people, his face for all to see.
How could he say no, though? There wasn’t any reason to make sour relations on the plains. Even if it was a risk to be known when there were Texans around. Cort glanced over at the land office south of the town square.
Cooking at a neighborly dinner would hardly put him at danger of being discovered. And making friends out here would be wise for someone whose secrets might turn everything noble upside down. With the ease of new friends, and a particularly beautiful landlady, Cort felt like he might just change his opinion about himself. Or at least muster up enough opinions from others that he felt worthy of this newfound freedom. It seemed the here and now could draw him further away from a life of regret.