Hiding among a hundred thousand men on wild horses would be her only chance to escape, whether on foot or on horseback. Either way, she would leave Pa in his misery and find land of her very own.
* * *
Cort inhaled the aroma of a mesquite campfire and tried to ignore the tug in his heart. If he’d allow his footsteps to follow his heartbeats, he’d turn himself around and insist Miss Huxley give him a chance to redeem himself. How could he treat a woman that way? Mock her mangy horses? Or worse, socializing as if he had any hint of a future to offer a woman? Her brief look of hurt after her father abandoned her had Cort almost consider a purchase of one of those miserable beasts. Perhaps then he’d see her smile. But that could be torture in itself. And between the unknown of when he’d get caught again, and the known of all that had happened, he had enough torment to contend with. His future was as bleak as the Texas Panhandle where trouble found him. No use daydreaming about a pretty smile. A woman would only complicate things.
Two boys scaled chests and furniture securely fastened to a wagon. Their creeping shadows crawled across Cort’s path. He watched the boys as they played a game of keep-away just like he’d seen his nephew do a hundred times. There was nobody more important than Trevor right now—because he was the first of a generation that could change the Stanton ways. To become noble and right. Kind. Pure. Everything the Good Book preached about that had only begun settling in Cort’s heart this past year. His brother, Charles, had promised to change, too, when Cort was arrested for that murder Charles had committed. Charles had said he’d raise his son right, and Cort had agreed to take the blame because of his nephew. A boy needed a father. The Stanton brothers knew that the hard way.
He flicked a glance over his shoulder before heading to make an offer on the stallion down by the land office. Miss Huxley busied about the corral, the burned orange light kissing her midnight hair. Cort sighed. He’d never met a woman with such a fighting spirit, yet brimming with softness beneath.
A man approached Aubrey from the many tents crowding around the makeshift corral, stalling Cort’s attempt to dismiss the lure of temptation. Perhaps Miss Huxley was taken, anyway? That’d help ease his gnawing interest.
Miss Huxley placed her hands on her hips and both she and the man focused on the mare. But before she turned toward the man, Cort saw it. The scouring look of a dangerous man.
The stranger inched closer to her, his teeth resting on his bottom lip. Words seemed to slip from his mouth, and Miss Huxley spun around. Her neck flushed crimson, and she spoke words no doubt sharpened with the same bite that Cort had witnessed earlier. The man snatched her waist, provoking a quick slap across his face.
Cort tunneled through the crammed tents and wagons. His heart pounded against his chest, and an angry heat crawled up his spine, invading his neck and ears with fire. The man, unable to keep his hands to himself, pathetically assaulted her, giving Cort the chance to redeem his own rude behavior to Miss Huxley.
“Hey now.” Cort grasped the man’s shoulder and yanked him around. The man’s surprised expression turned to one of vehemence.
“Are you her husband?” the culprit growled.
“No. But I know when a man has overstayed his welcome.” Cort returned the hateful stare, slowly moving his hand to his holster, just in case. “Leave the lady alone.”
A quick glance at Cort’s hand dimmed the spark in the man’s eyes, and he backed off. “She ain’t worth it,” he muttered and stumbled away.
Aubrey smoothed down her skirt and kept her eyes lowered.
Cort’s throat was tight. He shoved through the corral gate. The woman was a whole head shorter than him. Her ivory brow was framed by silky ebony hair gathered in a loose braid across her petite shoulder. A strand skimmed her lowered nose. Cort clenched his teeth. The desire to gather that rebellious hair between his fingers and tuck it behind her ear rattled his senses. He tried to take a step back, but her dainty aroma of lavender soap tempted him to stay close. He breathed deeply. His hand lifted regardless of the battle within him, and he reached out to tilt her chin up. Was she crying? Or, perhaps, humiliated by that man’s forwardness? Aubrey lifted her eyes and met his gaze.
He jerked his hand back to his cowboy hat and tipped it. “Are you okay?”
Her chocolate eyes were perfectly dry, and her mouth was set in a curt rosy smile. There was nothing unsure about this woman. She even held her shoulders in a soldier-straight line, her chin perfectly angled in confidence. Only a slight ripple across that ivory brow softened her cool demeanor. Cort swallowed hard. This woman intimidated him, no matter that he was nearly twice her size and towering over her.
“Thank you, Mr. Stanton. I do believe I could have handled him, though.” With a large grin, she patted her skirt pocket and eyed his holster.
Torture. The smile brought torture just as he’d expected.
He nearly shoved his hands in his pockets. “Good to know you’re not a woman to be messed with.” The horse behind her whinnied and stomped its knobby leg. “I’d better let you get back to your business, Miss Huxley.” He stepped back. Yes, that was the wise thing to do. Walk away.
He didn’t need any prospective distraction. If he gave himself an inch, the implications would be a mile long and would hurt more than the torturous smile that now burned in his memory. But as much as he tried to focus on the busyness of settlers around him, he couldn’t escape from the Aubrey-induced fog in his mind.
Could a woman clothed in such God-given beauty be so utterly content in her own skin, even in the face of strange men on the wild prairie? Perhaps Cort had been around too many women who used their looks only to gain advantage or a marriage proposal. But it didn’t seem that Miss Huxley depended on her outward beauty in any way, exuding only a strength he could hardly reckon with in his baffled state.
“Wait!” She rushed up to him and put a hand on his arm. “Are you on your way to buy a horse?”
Cort dared a look in her bright eyes. “I am heading over to the dealer by the land office.”
“Mind if I join you?” She glanced away and scrunched her nose. Her petite frame lifted with a deep sigh. “I mean, I’d like to see the competition.” The words came out as more of a question than a statement.
“You think you’ll have much more business out here?” He looked beyond her shoulder at the deep pink clouds painted with the setting sun. “I mean, the race is at noon tomorrow.”
“You haven’t found your horse yet, Mr. Stanton.” She crossed her arms, cocking her head to one side. “Who’s to say that there aren’t a few more negotiations left tonight?”
“You have quite an eye for business, don’t you, Miss Huxley?”
She looked over her shoulder. “One day I hope to use it for my own ranch.” When she looked up at him, there was a flush in her cheeks and her eyes brimmed with moisture. “May I join you, Mr. Stanton? Please. I...I just need to get away.” Her soft admission allowed him a glimpse of her vulnerability in that moment. Cort’s fierce desire to protect her was stronger than it had been just moments ago in the face of that rascally man. But now, he had no idea what he would protect her from. Just that there was something threatening her strength.
He held out his elbow and she placed her small hand in the crook of his arm.
“Thank you,” she said as they strolled forward.
When they arrived at her competitor’s corral, the owner rode up on a slightly older male horse. Cort worried that his own advice to Miss Huxley about it being too late to buy a horse was his own fate.
“Sir, didn’t you have a stallion earlier?”
Miss Huxley left his side and went up to the horse as the owner dismounted.
“Yes, sir. He’s out back. Got this one for sale, too. Just purchased him from a poor guy who’s been struck by the heat and won’t be racing tomorrow. Paid a pretty penny.”<
br />
“You have two horses for sale?” Miss Huxley’s voice cracked, and her face lit up like she’d stumbled across gold. When her gaze crossed Cort’s, she cleared her throat and brushed her fingers through the horse’s fine black mane.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s back behind the tent. Those boys over yonder were getting him all stirred up.” He began to jaunt across the dusty dirt. “Let me bring him ̓round.”
Miss Huxley stayed by the horse, stroking his nose. A loud whinny from behind turned Cort’s attention to the stallion being led by its owner.
After negotiating a price, they both paid for the horses. Aubrey was content with the older male, while Cort paid a little more for the stallion.
“You will do wonderful in the race with that horse,” she said over her shoulder as she led her own horse out of the gate. “Wish I could see him run.”
“Maybe you can come see me off.” Cort chuckled. A pain reached across his chest—something he’d much rather focus on than the dangerous trail of thought leading his senses astray. The good Lord may have softened this ranch hand, but his edges were still rough. Cort was certain if he let anyone get too close, they’d feel the sting. And he promised himself no more regret. He had enough already. It was too much to bear most days.
She stopped her horse and spun around. A mischievous grin appeared. “Don’t think I’ll be around to see you off. But I do wish you the best, Mr. Stanton.” She walked up to him and offered an awkward handshake. “I think I’ll cut through between the tents and head behind the corral. Don’t forget us if anyone needs a horse.”
“That one is sure to be gone soon,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow, and he did the same. What was she thinking? Or plotting? “We also have goods for sale like saddle soap.” She clutched her skirt, avoiding a puddle near a water trough, then briskly led her horse out of view. Not a trace of lavender left in his dim surroundings.
Good. Only good would come from widening the distance between himself and Miss Huxley. He tried wrapping his mind around the relief of avoiding heartache since his days of freedom might be limited. If she knew he was an outlaw, she wouldn’t stick around long anyway. They’d never see each other again, and that realization should be a salve for his wounded soul.
Then why did he feel like he was walking away from hope when Aubrey left him behind in the fading light of dusk?
Copyright © 2017 by Angie Dicken
ISBN-13: 9781488017834
Rancher to the Rescue
Copyright © 2017 by Barbara Phinney
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