by Angie Dicken
The evening was quiet except for Aubrey’s soft hum and the crackling fire. He began to whittle, shaking away his growing suspicion. But it wouldn’t budge from his wondering mind. Was Aubrey’s dream of a horse ranch more of her mama’s dream than her own? Striving so hard for something that might bring her more toil than triumph, like an entire ranch, might just break her spirit in the end. Hadn’t Cort walked away from his old life with a scar inflicted by a similar strife? He’d struggled with his ownership of it all as he sat in prison for another person’s crime. While he trusted that it was worth his surrender for the future of his family name, he couldn’t shake the sliver of resentment toward his brother. Charles had spit in Cort’s face just moments before he was caught, cussing him for fighting opposite his gang in the ranch wars. He realized Charles had been selfish in forcing Cort to take the blame out of guilt. But at the time, all the shame of who he was, and who he was expected to be, had led him to accept the death sentence as his own. No matter how much Cort’s boss had told him salvation was free, he wanted redemption in the worst way.
Yet would he have chosen to take the blame now, with the prospects of life out here on the prairie? He dared not look over at Aubrey for fear that the answer to that question would slice his heart with a double-edged sword.
He continued whittling, concentrating on getting out of his head and into the stroke of each movement. His eyes grew heavy by the time he figured out that his latest piece would be a horse—maybe Aubrey’s mare. What a beauty.
“I’m going to call it a night.” He tucked his knife and block into his shirt pocket. “You heading down soon?”
Aubrey kept her nose down as she continued to sew. “Maybe. Going to finish this hem.” She didn’t look up.
He half smiled and shook his head. She was so consumed with her sewing that he wondered if she really knew what he had asked. Cort traipsed across the grass and headed to his newly finished house. The air was several degrees cooler inside, even more so than the dugout. He’d sleep well tonight.
He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he slept hard and woke with a start. He’d had a nightmare. Charles was trying to fight him and all Cort could do was whittle. He felt a little sick as he sat up on his bedroll. Like he’d just been punched in the gut. A mixture of regret and anger stirred in him.
Why was he angry? The thought of his brother usually brought about remorse, not anger. But Cort was fighting more than just his own past. He was also battling the hope of a future. Was this new perspective a temptation from the enemy or a promise from his Maker?
Oh, how he prayed it was the latter and that the future would throw the past to the ground.
A silver fray glowed from his ragged cloth door. The early morning offered enough light to read his Bible and ease his spirit. He gathered up his bag and tin kettle to start boiling some water for coffee, then headed to his usual spot by the embers from last night’s fire.
Mornings were finally starting to cool off. The moderate temperature was nearly enough medicine to usher in a fresh start. Today, he’d open to Psalms for assurance.
Cort stopped midstep. “Aubrey?”
She sat in the same place he’d left her, only with a different colored fabric sprawled across her lap. When she looked up, her bloodshot eyes were framed by dark circles.
“Good morning,” she rasped then cleared her throat. “My, that came quick.”
“You worked all night?”
She set her needle down and cracked her fingers. “I suppose I did.” Yawning, she gathered up her basket and carefully folded her current work. “I’ll be fine. Just need a couple of hours to rest.”
“Aubrey, you have so much sewing.” He helped her up. “Why don’t you let me finish your roof?”
“No, I said I am fine. I can do it all. It’s what I was meant to do.” Her weary words slurred.
“Meant to work yourself to death?” He shook his head. “Nobody is meant to do that.”
“You don’t understand, Cort,” she said with more vigor. “It’s perfect in a way. Mama sewed to save for her ranch, and Pa stole it. But he couldn’t steal my ability to sew, which Mama had passed on to me. Little did she know that it would be my sewing that establishes her ranch.” A giddy laugh blurted from her chapped lips. “Look at the Jessups. My mother would have turned green with envy at such a love like that. Look at you.” She laid her hand on her chest, tears brimming in her eyes now. “Your care for the land and for my well-being is more than a whole twenty years of Mama’s marriage to Pa.” She looked as though she would spit northward. “But she did love horses, as much as I love sewing these dresses.” She walked toward the ridge, calling out, “She worked hard for her horse ranch. My horse ranch.”
Cort rushed up and escorted the exhausted woman down, settling her in next to Ben. She didn’t refuse but fell fast asleep as soon as her head rested. Cort still held her hand. He slid his fingers over hers, feeling the calluses from sewing and noticing the scars from needle pricks. He gently kissed her finger and placed her hand beside her.
Stubborn seamstress. Aubrey was stuck working for another woman’s dream because of the torment of sad memories.
If he could stick around and encourage Aubrey to step out of the shadows of her mother, perhaps she’d find peace. Cort drew in a deep breath, realizing that the rest of his days were in another’s shadow—his brother’s.
Aubrey might have the chance to find joy on the horizon regardless of a selfless burden. Against his will, Cort was jealous of his landlady’s freedom even in the midst of her strife.
Chapter Twelve
Aubrey woke up to an umber glow crawling across her dirt floor. She was alone. Her neck was sore as she sat up, and her knuckles ached. From the corner of her eye, the periwinkle dress that she’d been working on caught her attention. She reached for it, but then stopped when she remembered this morning. Cort had met her by the fire after he’d left her the night before. She’d worked all night. Had she slept all day?
She gathered herself up and went to wash off, not just the grime of the day before but the embarrassment of being caught indulging in her work. Cort had reprimanded her like she was a child. She felt irresponsible. Trying to stir up anger against the cowboy was futile because she knew he was right. Aubrey would work herself to death with this much sewing. But she loved it so.
The tepid water slid down her neck and around her collar. She took her apron and dried off quickly. Now that she was fully awake and ready for the day, she had to at least try to finish her home. Today was a new day, and she would work on the roof and get more sewing done this evening. She was determined to do it all, just like Mama sacrificed so much for a good life, no matter the circumstances. Aubrey could accomplish much if she followed her mother’s footsteps toward a dream.
The rhythmic thud of Cort’s mallet carried across the creek bed. She continued up the path to the houses. When she reached higher ground, she spied him working diligently on the fence along the southern stretch of land.
Aubrey sighed. If only she was as determined to work the land. It seemed her motivation was waiting for her back in the basket of thread and fabric below.
Please, Lord, give me the perseverance to complete this task.
The long shadow of her house stretched halfway across the land between hers and Cort’s. It was later than she’d thought. Yet, as she began to work, exhaustion crept from the corners of her elbows to the lids of her eyes. She moved at a snail’s pace. The sound of hooves was a welcome chance to step away from her work. But when she saw who was atop the horse, panic eclipsed her exhaustion.
“Benjamin Huxley, what in the world?” She rushed over as he gingerly dismounted and began to tie the horse.
His face beamed. “Doctor came by today, said I was healing nicely, so I decided to get out and see the place.” He pulled off the crutch situated
across the horn of the saddle then hobbled to the shade.
“I don’t think that’s very wise, Ben,” she scolded. “Going out in this heat without telling a soul? What if you got hurt?”
“It’s not that hot anymore. And I told your cowboy.” He nodded toward Cort, who was heading from the creek bed. “He thought it was a fine idea. You trust him, don’t you?” He sneered.
Her face grew hot, and she glared at Cort. “You thought this would be a good idea for him?”
Cort crushed the grasses as he plodded toward them. His half smile didn’t waver, only making her more angry. “I didn’t see the harm. He broke his leg, not his back, and he seems to get around better each day.”
“This really isn’t your decision, Cort,” she said. “Ben, you should’ve at least waited until one of us could ride with you.”
“Well, I whittled half a chess set waiting for you to get up,” he scoffed. “Else you’d have had a say before I left.”
Aubrey opened her mouth to speak, but between her jeering brother and the cool, unmoved cowboy, she could only groan and spin back toward her house.
She called over her shoulder, “Fine! Be reckless.” Not like it wasn’t in his blood, anyway. Maybe it was good that he was getting up and about. Didn’t she want him to leave so he could keep Pa from coming around? She took a few deep breaths and began to work again. This time, more energized than before. She was so worked up her ears rushed with her pulse.
“Aubrey?” Cort’s baritone voice carried over her shoulder.
“Yes, Mr. Stanton?” She raised a threatening eyebrow in his direction.
“Now, now.” He held up his hands wide. “No need to be mad at me. I am not your brother’s keeper. I just answered him when he asked for my opinion. It might have lessened his soreness toward me, too.”
“I just assumed you were more levelheaded than that.” She squirmed inwardly. Her late night and early morning sewing marathon was hardly levelheaded.
His palm cupped her shoulder. “Aubrey, why don’t you come sit down, and I’ll heat up some biscuits. You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Her stomach instantly grumbled, but she shook his hand away. “Are you trying to change the subject?”
“I am trying to offer you a meal.” He lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair. His emerald eyes sparkled intently. “Come on. I think you’ll feel better if you eat.”
“You don’t think I should be upset with Ben?”
“I think he’s a grown man. Let him make his own decisions. You’ve taken good care of him, but now it’s time that he did things for himself. Don’t you agree?”
Her throat tightened. She wanted desperately to release a lashing. All she could do was shrug her shoulders. With a huff of reluctance, she followed him to the fire, unable to come up with a retort. While he began to unwrap some biscuits from a cloth napkin, she repeated all that he had said in her mind.
Suddenly, she wanted to cry.
Even though he was correcting her way of thinking, he was also complimenting her. She had taken good care of Ben. And that was something she’d set aside as duty. But now the worry she felt for him riding today reminded her that she really did love her brother. And love was what made a family, wasn’t it?
“He’s my brother.” She tested the ownership in it.
“Yes, he is.” Cort grinned. “And you are a good sister to him.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s good to protect our own. I know exactly how you feel.”
“You do?”
“Yes. My brother and nephew are the reason I’m...” Cort’s jaw tightened beneath his stubbly cheek. “I would do anything for them.” His brow furrowed as he kept his eyes on his task at hand. She hadn’t seen his cloudy disposition in quite a while.
“Would they do the same for you?”
He curled his lip. “Good question. Doubt it. My brother’s not the kind to look beyond himself. Or at least he wasn’t.” Cort shoved the coals of the fire with a blackened stick. “I tried my best to get him to change. Even when he didn’t stand up for himself, I tried standing up for him.”
“Ben and I never had much of a relationship like that. He wouldn’t do much of anything for me.”
“Except fight the cowboy trying to take your land?” He hooked his eyebrow and gave a half smile.
“Yes, guess he did do that.” But she’d pushed him into it, hadn’t she? “You think your brother would do that for you? Would he have fought for your stake of claim?”
Cort’s face darkened even more. He just shook his head. Seemed like Cort might understand a broken family, too.
“Then why would you do anything for him?”
He stood up and shoveled in the smoky air. “There’s more than just reciprocity when it comes to blood, Aubrey. There’s responsibility for the future. His little boy deserves a father like we never had. My brother had the chance to change his bad ways and give his son a future. There’s little I wouldn’t do for the chance of a Stanton legacy.”
Aubrey bit her lip. He’d mentioned that his brother was the only one who knew his secret. Did it have something to do with his legacy? She couldn’t ask now. She had said she wouldn’t pry anymore.
* * *
After they had a quiet meal, Cort went down and filled up their canteens while Aubrey continued working on her house. He tried to keep his thoughts straight and not think too much about her or his brother. It seemed both subjects filled him with agony. He’d never felt resentment toward Charles until Aubrey walked into his life. And he had never felt...well, whatever it was that triggered such a wild beat in his chest at the very sight of his dark-haired landlady.
By the time the sun neared the end of its western crawl, Aubrey met him halfway down the ridge, dirty and sunburned.
“I finished,” she declared, showcasing a dazzling smile.
“You did?” Cort scratched his head, wondering how she could’ve completed the roof so quickly.
“Well, it’s good enough anyway. Now that Ben’s up and about, he fetched the materials as I worked. We have shade and a partial roof on the western side.”
“So you let him help you, huh?” He quirked his brow.
“Stop it.” She swatted at him with her handkerchief then wiped her forehead. “He owed me. Stealing my horse back at camp.” She pushed past him, using his arm to steady herself. He couldn’t help but place a guiding hand on her back as she walked. She seemed to relax beneath his palm, letting out a quiet thank-you. When she turned to him on level ground, he noticed those dark circles again.
“I am going to get our things,” she said. “I have some sewing to do and need to go into town first thing in the morning to use Caldwell’s machine.”
“You needn’t worry about that. Take this week to finish the house—” He stopped himself when she narrowed her eyes. “Just get a good night’s rest tonight.” He rocked back on his heels.
“Yes, it will be nice to start making home up yonder.” She leaned her back against the packed dirt of the embankment. “You’ve gotten a head start. Is it nice?”
“It is. Cooler and better air up there.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she hid a yawn behind her delicate, dirt-stained fingers. “It’ll be a good change to not breathe in all the dust down here. Can’t wait to get furniture. Maybe we could actually eat at a table.”
“I don’t mind our fireside suppers, personally.” He swept damp hair away from her cheek. Did she lean into his hand? He crammed it into his pocket.
“It has been nice. This prairie makes a great dining room for two.” She smiled.
Prairie life sure had its perks—like spending evenings with Aubrey Huxley by their own private fire. She was too familiar. If he’d allow this admiration to grow to its full potent
ial, they’d both end up devastated. The downside to this arrangement was how isolating their life had become. If they were in town, this strange dance of theirs may have never started. This whole situation would’ve been different if she’d depended on more people than just him. He’d leave her behind with nobody to take his place.
An idea formed in Cort’s head. He needed more than just a fence to keep his mind occupied. They should surround themselves with more people to give Aubrey the chance to secure relationships once he was gone. Especially now that Ben was mobile and returning to Kansas sooner than later. “What do you say we have the Hickses over after church on Sunday? I’ll return the plow, and they can see our hard work.”
“That’s a fine idea. Maybe the Jessups can come, too?” She pushed off of the wall and started to her dugout.
“Sure. I’m used to cooking for a whole herd full of cattle drivers. Think I can handle it.” He chuckled.
“I’ll try to help as best as I can,” she called over her shoulder.
Cort headed back up, and Ben joined him at the fire as he began to cook supper. He watched Ben from the corner of his eye.
“That’s a fine piece you are whittling there.”
Ben continued without looking up. “Thanks. My pa used to whittle.”
“Really?” Cort exclaimed. “Aubrey hadn’t mentioned it.”
“She was with Mama more than Pa. Pa didn’t have use for a daughter. Me? Well, we had some wild adventures.” Ben chuckled. “Surprised he hasn’t come lookin’ for me.” A crease carved in his brow, and he frowned.
Cort focused on the flame below his kettle of coffee. Seemed Mr. Huxley wasn’t living up to either of his children’s expectations. His absence was a relief for his daughter but a wound for his son. “Some men don’t realize how much they have.” Believe me. Cort hoped that was not the case for Charles anymore.