by Angie Dicken
“How ’bout I go and not say anything. Just look for her. If she’s not there, then I’ll come back and you and I will go search around. She couldn’t have gotten far. If she did head home, I’ll meet her on the way.”
Aubrey nodded. Tear trails crossed her cheeks. “Please hurry.”
“Of course.” He kissed her forehead. “Pray, Aubrey. God knows where she is. He’s with her.” Cort hurried off. He tried to take his own advice, but Aubrey’s fear singed his throat and burned behind his eyes the entire ride along the ridge. He searched below as he galloped, praying that a mass of golden curls would snag his eye. Nothing but the murky creek and the packed earth.
When he came up to the Jessup place, only the three older girls were outside.
“Hi, Mr. Stanton.” They spoke in unison.
“Is the baby here yet?” he asked.
“No, sir. Pa went over to the Hickses to gather some more towels. Mrs. Hicks sent him,” Jolene said.
“We think it’s because Pa was nervous.” Beatrice, the one closest to Addie’s age, burst into giggles.
“Nobody else is here besides you three?” How could he be sure Addie wasn’t around somewhere?
“Nope. Just us. Mrs. Hicks said she’s done this plenty, no need for a doctor.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll be heading on, then.” Cort began to steer his horse back toward the creek bed. What if Addie was in the house? He couldn’t ask.
“Mr. Stanton,” Caroline, the second oldest, called out. “Can I come back with you? I’d rather be playin’ with Addie than sitting here all day.”
His heart plunged into his stomach. They thought Addie was still back with Aubrey. So they hadn’t seen her.
“Uh, no. Not right now. I think it’s best for you to stay with your parents.” Before the child could argue, he turned his horse and galloped home.
His teeth ground against each other. By the time he arrived back at their property, his jaw ached with tension.
Aubrey ran up to Cort with wide eyes. “Was she there?”
It was torture to shake his head, and even more painful to hear the groan come from the tiny woman. Her face screwed up, and she fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands. Ben hobbled about on his crutch, his hand over his eyes as he looked out into the prairie.
Cort yanked his horse around. He’d go into the creek bed. The child couldn’t be far. Rocks tumbled as the horse slipped down the steep embankment.
“Addie!” His coarse voice boomeranged around the miniature canyon. Silence returned his cry. He wiped the sweat from his eyes. He checked both dugouts. Empty. What if she was hurt somewhere and couldn’t speak? The thought iced his veins.
Aubrey descended down the path. “Cort, let me search with you. Ben said he’d wait by the houses for her.”
“I think we should go to the back of the property.” He held out his hand and helped Aubrey up. She wrapped her arms around his waist. They splashed through the creek and found the most shallow path up the other bank.
Slowly, Cort steered the horse along his half-built fence. The pat of hooves smashing the grasses and their jagged breathing interchanged with the blood pumping in his ears. As they turned past the last post he’d secured southward, Aubrey gripped his arm.
“Look!” She pointed back toward the grove of post oaks near the creek. A small lump of blue gingham was huddled in the shade of the trees. “Hurry, Cort!” As they galloped, he spotted blond hair poking out from beneath a bonnet.
“Addie.” Aubrey squealed. But the child didn’t move. Cort stopped the horse and helped Aubrey down, imagining venom coursing through the child. He balled his fists, bracing himself. Why was the girl so still?
When they reached her, she appeared to be sleeping. Her dolly was wrapped in her arms, and she was curled up with her head resting on an exposed root. He checked her limbs and her arms for any bites or wounds. Everything seemed to be fine.
“Addie?” He gently lifted her head. Her little lips pursed then relaxed. A flood of relief overwhelmed Cort at the small movement. He looked up at Aubrey. “I think she’s okay.” He gathered her into his arms and rocked her gently. “Adelaide?” Her peaceful face was round and creamy. He brushed a finger on her soft skin. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
They just sat there, Aubrey at his elbow, gripping him firmly. He rocked the child, trying to wake her. This was what his brother had. A woman and a child to share life with. From deep within his spirit, jealousy sparked.
“Here, Cort. Let me try.” Aubrey stole her from him in a quick motion. He sat back and took a moment while Aubrey awakened the child.
Addie rubbed her eye. “You’re done with your nap, Miss Aubrey?”
Aubrey gasped, clutching the little girl tight against her. “Oh, Addie. I am so sorry.”
Cort reached over and slid his hand over Aubrey’s hair, comforting her as she cried quietly in the child’s curls.
“Look what I found!” Addie wriggled away and held out an old arrowhead. “I was going on a scavenger hunt and found it.” She rubbed the side of her head, staring at the root. “Guess I got tired, too. Shade’s nice, but that’s not such a comfortable pillow.”
They all laughed. Cort wiped his eyes at the same time as Aubrey. They shared a tender, wordless exchange while little Addie scrambled to her feet.
“Thank you, Cort. I would have been lost without your help.” Aubrey squeezed his hand, then slipped past to catch up with Addie as she ran toward the creek.
* * *
It was nightfall by the time Mr. Jessup came around and announced the birth of yet another little girl. Her name was Polly. Aubrey loved the name and couldn’t wait to hold the baby. She’d never held a baby before. Addie fell asleep on her daddy’s shoulder as he spoke quietly about the new addition to the family. While the moon made its entrance in the night sky, they rode away into the indigo horizon.
“Well, that was quite a day.” Cort leaned back on his elbows. Aubrey settled in her usual spot with her basket. “You’re going to sew now?”
“Got to.” She smiled brightly, trying to ignore the tugging guilt. If she hadn’t worked so much on these dresses, then she would have never fallen asleep while caring for Addie. She could feel Cort’s stare across the fire. What did he think of her? This once-responsible, independent landlady couldn’t even care for a child for more than an hour. She shuddered at the thought of who she might have taken after. Certainly not her mother.
Cort’s inhalation was audible. She managed a glance. He was handsome as ever. Sparkling green eyes cast a gaze toward the jumping flames. He seemed to be lost in thought. She couldn’t help but admire him.
“You’re her hero now, you know.” She began to sew, trying to divert the attention from this joyous work that also seemed to be a curse.
“Hero?” He scoffed. “We both found her. Thank God above.”
She scrunched her nose and continued sewing. “I got lost once.” Should she open that window to her past? She continued to sew in silence.
“Well?” he prodded.
“Well. I didn’t have a hero find me,” she said, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “He never came looking.”
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward. “Did he know you were lost?”
“Yes. But he had other things to take care of.” She rolled her eyes. “I was so scared. He’d sent me to collect firewood, and I forgot which way I went. I spent a night in the woods. When I got home, Mama gathered me up in her arms. But Pa was too drunk to even notice.” She stopped sewing and tilted her face to the starry sky.
“Sounds like you weren’t the only lost one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your pa’s lost in a different way. I’ve seen men who just can’t find themselves. Sounds like he’s one of them.” Cort pulled out his whittling
. “I was lost like him once. Not in drinking, just in trying to survive life down the wrong path. It’s hard to find yourself when you get too far away from goodness.”
Aubrey furrowed her brow. She tried to think of her pa in a different light and tried to think of Cort in wayward shadows. “I can’t imagine you being lost. You are one of the strongest men I know.” Actually, the strongest. She’d never been around a man who was so strong, yet gentle enough to care so deeply for a child who wasn’t his own. She’d seen his tears.
Cort gave her his full attention. She could only look down.
“What made you change your course, Cort?”
“God found me. Or at least, I opened my mind enough to let Him in. Then He worked on my heart, and I realized how lost I was without Him.”
“Don’t know if Pa knows how to listen. He never listened.” A foreign wave of compassion suddenly lapped across her thoughts of Pa. “You’re right, Cort. He’s lost. All these years I’ve resented him. But now I feel pity for him.” A small whimper escaped her lips. “Just wish Mama got more while she was here. Don’t know what God was thinking, bringing those two together.”
“Well, Aubrey Huxley. You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I guess I can at least bring my mama’s dream to fruition.”
“No, I mean, he brought those two together and made someone beautiful from their union.” His chiseled face glowed from the fire. Speaking of getting lost, she could jump into those green pools and lose herself in that warmth and affirmation. Cort continued, “Don’t you think you’re enough?”
“What do you mean?” She resisted the intrigue of his conversation and fiddled with the sewing in her lap.
“I mean, your mama had your love. Sounds like she was blessed by you while she lived.” He sat up. His jaw flinched. The clicks and crackles of the fire filled the space. He opened his mouth then snapped it shut.
“What is it, Cort?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is a ranch something that she would have wanted you to take on?”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s just that you’ve enjoyed sewing so much this past month. It seems like your passion more than—”
She stuffed her sewing in the basket and rose to her feet along with her rising anger. “Not this again. You’re making me wonder if Ben is right about you. What do you want from this deal, Cort?”
“You know I would never take this ranch from you. Your brother just wants a reason to justify his hate.” He stood with her. “I want you to know that I understand what it’s like to give up your own dream for someone else’s.”
“Oh, you do?” She dug her knuckles into her hip. An ache wrapped around her throat like squeezing fingers.
“Yes, I do.” Confidence emboldened every inch of his steeled face and seemed to expand across his broad shoulders. He stood to his fullest height, looming over. “Aubrey, I gave up my dream a long time ago. And now I am living with the consequences of it.”
“What is your dream, Cort?”
“I am just saying that life’s too short to turn your back on what you love. One day, time’ll run out, and you’ll never forgive yourself.” He curled his lips. A deep crease etched between his eyebrows. Her anger dissolved. He was speaking from that giant heart of his, and deep down, the truth in his words planted a seedling in her own heart. But why couldn’t Cort Stanton forgive himself—this man of faith and second chances?
She reached up and ran her hand over his stubbly jawline. “What is it that you gave up, Cort?”
His jaw tightened beneath her hand. “The chance to love, Aubrey.” He moved away and disappeared into the dark.
Did he leave love behind? Aubrey’s heart grew heavy at the thought that all this time she’d been right to resist her affection for a man who may be someone else’s. As she sat and sewed by the firelight, she thought on all they’d said. Maybe, just maybe, Cort was right. The ranch wasn’t her dream anymore. But it was her duty. And it was a fine one. Yet she couldn’t imagine completing it without Cort by her side. As much as she didn’t want to admit her reliance on him, she tried to convince herself she’d miss his work, and not a chance to love a man who would never truly be hers.
It was time she forgot the mysterious hold Cort Stanton had over her and established herself as she’d always imagined: an independent, business-oriented landowner carrying out a dream—or maybe two.
* * *
Cort continued to work on the fence, keeping his distance from Aubrey as much as he could. A fear iced his heart at the memory of their last conversation. Not because he’d muscled his way into her plans, suggesting that her dream might not be out on this prairie with horses and ranch hands—that needed to be said. She was wearing herself thinner than the shavings from his last whittling session.
No, that was not what sparked his dread.
While he had held his breath, figuring a “mind your own business” might escape the lips of his beautiful landowner, instead he saw a softening in her expression, so much so that he had nearly spilled his heart in a way that he could never take back. If he shared everything he felt about Aubrey, he would never forgive himself in the end. Her affection was obvious, and if he voiced his, he would be a thief, stealing her heart without the ability to return his in the full.
After his midday meal, Aubrey headed over to her horse. She gave a nervous glance down to the basket she held against her waist then up at Cort. “Would you like to visit the Jessups with me? I have a bonnet for the baby and a dress for Addie’s doll. Going to Mr. Caldwell’s afterward.” She pressed her lips in a thin line, as if challenging him to try to sway her.
“No, thank you. I’ll go by on my next trip to town,” he said. “I—”
She cut him off. “Very well. See you tonight.” She swiveled around and continued to her horse.
How could he explain himself more? It wasn’t that he judged her for her dream, but he cared for her well-being. Maybe he cared too much.
Her cool demeanor had him wondering if she’d digested his words and was protecting herself now. So be it. The truth had been spoken, and she could do with it what she wanted. He wasn’t her keeper. If he was meant to just work her ranch so she could indulge in her dressmaking dreams, then he was fine doing that. Seemed that they were both living their dreams, side by side.
Thank You for this work, Lord.
The weeks tumbled by into a temperate November, one where he no longer woke up damp from sweat, but found himself reaching for a blanket.
Aubrey’s coolness never left her. She had become quiet and businesslike, no longer meeting him by the fire at night and only speaking with him out of necessity. He’d notice her lantern burning from inside her house in the late hours. Working on dresses, no doubt. But she didn’t seem as tired as she used to be. Each morning, bright and early, she’d meet him along the fence with a cup of coffee and her shawl wrapped around her shoulders. They’d discuss the property and the location of the stables. Everything revolved around the concerns of a landowner and a ranch hand. On occasion, he’d want to break this strange discard of familiarity, and it seemed Aubrey considered it during awkward hesitations before leaving him to work. He reminded himself it was for the best.
In fact, this was what he’d wanted all along. To work the land and enjoy his hiding until the time came to serve his sentence. The unplanned distraction of beautiful Aubrey Huxley had only brought Cort to a stormy discontentment—a roaring, emotional tornado that had him second-guessing everything he’d committed to set out and do.
The third Sunday came around, and Cort set up his worktable to cook for their neighbors. They’d all decided that their first meal together had been a fine start to a monthly tradition, what with baby Polly’s arrival. This was exactly what Cort wanted, more neighbors around to ensure that Aubrey had a community to lean
into once he was gone.
“Are you making biscuits?” Aubrey was out of breath as she lugged a pail of water for boiling.
“I am.” He continued stirring in the flour. “Where’s Ben? I thought he might want to set up the chessboard.”
“He’s with Dr. Mills. It seems he might get his cast off soon.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Oh?”
“He might leave on next week’s train and try to make it home for Thanksgiving,” she said quietly, keeping her attention on her finger as she traced the grain of the workbench.
He grimaced at his desire to comfort her. “You’ll miss him. That’s to be expected.” He gripped his spoon tighter.
“Yes, you’re right. Guess I had more family ties than I realized.” She sighed. “I think I am going to write my pa a letter.”
“A letter?” Cort continued to stir, ignoring his delight in Aubrey’s breakaway from business-centered talk.
“I’ll have Ben take it to Pa when he leaves. You opened my eyes to something I’d never considered before. Pa’s lost. He has nobody showing him the way. Maybe I could at least point him in the right direction.”
His heart leaped, an old habit. He tried to tamp down his emotion. “You’ve got a good heart, Aubrey.”
She beamed. He gave an internal sigh and allowed himself to admire her—for just a moment.
“Don’t know if I’ll forgive him anytime soon.”
He returned his attention back to his work. “Forgiveness is a hard thing.”
“Have you forgiven yourself, Cort?”
“Myself?” He stopped stirring. His teeth clenched. Why was she making this about him?
“Yes. You said you gave up on a dream and warned me not to do the same.”
She’d listened to him. Had she spent these past weeks dissecting his advice? He’d probably said too much.
“I am no better than your pa. I’ve sown a whole prairie full of mistakes. It’s too late for me now.” He tossed aside the spoon, flinging batter on the bench.