The Outlaw's Second Chance

“I was trying to convince that neighbor to take our last mare.” Her eighteen-year-old brother was taller and broader than their father, but he wasn’t much different than Pa. Always ready to help his father take advantage of a customer. “Wouldn’t budge. Ah, well. Guess Pa will have to sell her back in Kansas.”

“Or you can. Maybe get that money for your wedding. Liza’s already got the dress,” she said, recalling the details she’d sewn on the gown.

“Yeah, true.” He scratched his head as he peered at his boots. He leaned forward, whispering low, “You sure you’re going to run tomorrow?”

Her throat thickened. “Course I am. And you promised to keep Pa from looking for me. I left the money I earned for sewing in the bread box. If only I’d found Mama’s savings for the ranch. Can’t stand knowing that if he finds it, he’ll squander it.”

Ben shrugged. “You don’t have to leave at all if you don’t want to.” His forehead crinkled.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll write. Just as soon as I’m settled.” He returned the hug then stepped back and opened the tent, releasing Pa’s heavy snores as he disappeared inside.

Aubrey’d never fall asleep now. She meandered toward the campfire lighting up the clearing just beyond their fence. In the flickering light she could make out a few men crouched down in a huddle, no doubt planning their route tomorrow. Two of the women she’d grown acquainted with this past week rocked their babies on one side of the fire. They’d brought their children over to pet the horses and make small talk.

Aubrey took careful steps as she neared them, wanting to say goodbye but not wanting to disturb their sleeping infants. Someone else caught her attention, though. All by his lonesome, Cort Stanton sat on a barrel, reading a book. What was it about Mr. Stanton, besides those emerald eyes and compassionate grin? Tiny flutters filled her stomach.

He caught her staring at him across the fire. “Evening, Miss Huxley.”

She stepped around the steady flames, lowering her face as humiliation washed her from head to toe. Gathering breath in her lungs and willing her heartbeat to calm down, she gave him a curt smile upon her approach. “Good evening, Mr. Stanton.” He stood up and tipped his hat. “What are you reading there?”

Good. He’d think her blatant attention toward him was out of curiosity for his book choice.

He held it out beneath a sincere smile. “The Good Book. Nothing better.” He winked.

Aubrey swallowed. “I see. And I must agree.” Her shoulders relaxed. He offered her his seat, pulling up a wooden crate for himself. “Shouldn’t you be resting for tomorrow?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a slight wince as he stared off into the fire. “There’s a lot at stake tomorrow.”

“Yes, there is.” What if she didn’t get to the land she’d need to fill Mama’s dream? “What kind of land are you looking for, Mr. Stanton?”

“Just land. I want to work and live. That’s all.” He looked down at his Bible.

“Yes, me, too.” She bit her lip. “I mean, working and living are what I want also.”

He narrowed his eyes her way. “You are racing, aren’t you?”

She gave a quick nod. “If my father found out, he’d ruin my chances to run. Can’t risk anyone knowing.” Aubrey wagged her head and let out a sigh. “Guess you know now. You and my brother are the only ones.”

“It’s okay. I won’t say a word. Believe me, I know how to keep a secret.”

“You do?” She arched her eyebrow, feeling a connection with this near stranger. He didn’t pry, just gave her assurance.

“It’s the only reason I’m here, Miss Huxley. To keep a secret safe and sound.” His face hid beneath the brim of his cowboy hat and he turned to the next page of his Bible. “And the funny thing is, my brother’s the only one that knows about it, too.” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head.

“Seems we have much in common, Mr. Stanton.” She didn’t look at him, just stared into the flame.

“Miss Huxley.” He said her name in a rich, deep tone. Aubrey met his gaze. Fire danced in his intent, lively eyes. He opened his mouth as if he’d speak, then shut it again. His face grew dim with a sorrowful smile. “Be careful tomorrow.”

“I will,” she said. “You, too, Mr. Stanton.” What was it about this man that made her feel safe? “Good night.” As she walked back toward her tent, she wondered why he hesitated. What was he going to say? Would he have shared his secret just like she shared hers? Whatever it was, she’d be careful to stay clear of that cowboy on the start line tomorrow. Her finely crafted defense from years of dealing with Pa’s shenanigans quivered next to this man.

As she neared her tent, a whinny came from her horse. She held her breath, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Pa and give away its hiding spot. Thankfully, the snoring continued.

Only a few more hours and Pa would find the note and the money. Her brother would keep him calm. Ben had promised he would after she made the wedding dress for his sweetheart without payment. Soon, the Huxley men would be back up in Kansas where they belonged, and Aubrey would have a piece of the Cherokee Strip.

She couldn’t resist a smile as she ducked inside her tent.

Readying for tomorrow morning, she carefully placed her pistol in her bag. As she sat on her cot, she strained her ears. Did she hear whispers on the other side of her canvas wall? She stilled every breath and movement, hoping her imagination had got the best of her. Nothing but cargo and her horse were on the other side of the tent. It was a perfect hiding place from Pa and anyone else. Or so she’d thought. Another very loud, very real whinny startled her quieted body, and she sprang from her bed. Rummaging through her bag for her pistol, Aubrey burst into the darkness.

She kept her eyes lowered, careful to not trip over any tent stakes. When she came round to the back of the tent, her heart plummeted to her stomach.

Her horse was gone.

Rattled by anguish, she nearly lost her grip on her bag. Could all these months of planning slip away with a rotten thief? She thought about the years of marriage her mama had endured with a thief. Her anger grew. Her mama’s dream was so close to coming true, she’d not let anyone get in her way.

Her legs had never moved so fast. The warm prairie air tunneled through the alley of tents. She barreled into the open at the edge of a lonely grove of post oaks. About twenty yards away, she spied a shadowy figure of a man climbing on top of her horse near the perimeter of the encampment.

“Hey! That’s my horse,” she whispered loudly, acutely aware that the camp behind her was asleep and the scouts ahead were no doubt awake. They most likely waited along that charcoal-gray horizon, ready to fire at sooners trying to run early.

The thief turned his head then leaned down close to the body of the horse. Surely he knew the danger ahead. But before she could reach him, he darted into the forbidden prairie. Her temples pulsed with fiery blood at the sheer obstinacy of the thief. She couldn’t let him get away with this. There was no way another crooked man would take away her mama’s dream to build a ranch so easily.

Lord, protect me.

She screwed her face up as if she were about to enter a tightly spun briar patch and ran into the black of night. Prayer sprouted from her heart as she ran, begging God that the scouts were sound asleep. She sliced through the warm night air, keeping her eye on the tiny figure ahead. Sweat slid down her hairline and across her jaw. She licked her lips, tasting the salt of her perspiration. Soon, her eyes blurred. Was it sweat or tears? She couldn’t tell, but there was no doubt that her eyes wept at the effort. The fright of being out in the open hung in the back of her mind. She dared not look back to see how far she was from Camp Kiowa now.

Her legs couldn’t push her through the tall grasses fast enough, and the thief grew smaller, disappearing for a moment. The distance between them seemed to stretch as wide and vast as the prairie, shrinking Aubrey’s hope. He wouldn’t get away with this, would he? She couldn’t let him. No, she’d get her horse back—for Mama.

An explosive shot rang out. The silhouette of her horse lifted up on his hind legs, not as far away as she’d expected. A muted whinny met Aubrey’s pulsing ears as she dropped to her stomach. Before tucking her head behind a stand of tall grass, she spied her horse, riderless, galloping across the horizon, running as fast as her dreams of racing tomorrow crumbled.

How could she even try to catch him? He was spooked by the gunfire. Did the rider take a bullet? A flood of terror and uncertainty filled her heart. She just wanted her horse back. Now blood was spilled and her horse was frightened away.

She squinted, hoping to catch another glimpse of her horse’s silhouette. Jagged sobs filled her throat as the weeds scratched her cheek. Her heart thumped hard against the packed soil. The earthy aroma filled her nostrils as she dragged herself toward the direction of her horse.

The ground beneath her began to rumble, and every inch of her stiffened again.

“I didn’t find anything,” a man called out.

“We’ll find him in the morning. I know I got him. Probably wounded,” another man said. “Let’s go to the watering station and then return to our posts. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” Their horses’ trotting faded as they rode away.

When she was certain only stillness filled her surroundings, she relaxed her clenched fists and stilled her grinding teeth. She continued crawling through the coarse grass. If she could just find her horse, she’d return to camp and run the race. The moon was bright now. While her eyes adjusted, her ears played tricks on her. She cocked her head. What she thought was a whinny ended up being a distant train whistle. The locomotive’s rhythmic trudge across the land gave it away. She crawled forward but stopped at a nearby rustle ahead.

A wave of fear skittered across her heart.

Just a few feet in front of her, boot soles inched forward through the tall grass. A white flag was tucked in the back pocket of the culprit, bobbing in and out of view. Aubrey’s nostrils flared and she bit her lip, scouring the contents of her shoulder bag. She’d packed her flag issued by the land office earlier at camp. Now it was gone. A wave of realization struck her like a twister hitting the ground. All her fright turned upside down.

She knew the thief all too well.

When she was close enough to grab his familiar boot, her courage bolstered, she lunged forward, hooking her arm around his neck.

“Ben Huxley. How dare you?” she seethed in his ear as he tried to wriggle away. Years of wrestling him gave her the advantage of surprise. He splayed flat, giving up immediately.

“Get off, Aubrey.” He tried squirming, but she tightened her grip on his neck and dug her knee into his back.

“Why would you steal from me?” Her voice wobbled. Emotion was thick in her throat. “I am so disappointed.” She let go with as much force as she’d tackled him, then snatched her flag out of his back pocket. The storm inside her drowned out the fear of being caught now. She sat up and draped her arms across her knees.

Ben sat up carefully, rubbing his neck. “I just got tempted. The thought of having land to sell...”

He was just like her father. Bending the rules, hurting those who might love him, all for his own gain.

“I thought I could trust you with my plan.” She should have known better. There was not a man in the world she could trust.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Got spared back there. Heard the bullet whiz by my ear.” His hand was shaking as he rubbed the side of his stubbly face. “I give up. You can keep the flag.”

“Oh, really?” She fiddled with the one-by-one post. “Of course I can keep it. It’s mine! Now I need to figure out how to get my horse and get back to camp without being killed.”

She looked across the horizon behind her. No horse in sight. The sky was silver with the onset of dawn. Sadness overwhelmed her.

“There’s something I wanna show you, Aubrey,” Ben whispered.

She wouldn’t budge. Defeat bolted her to the warm ground.

“Come on, sis. It’ll make up for all this, promise.”

He began to crawl deeper into the prairie.

“Wait. Aren’t you going the wrong way?” She tried to grab his ankle but he was too quick.

“I’m not going back and risk crossing those scouts’ path,” he said.

He was right. She felt trapped between her dream and the law. How did this happen? Because she was a Huxley. That was how.

Ben stopped and sat up again. “Look. Saw it as I rode. Just before the scouts shot at me.” Ash-colored light peeled away the darkness of night more rapidly now. Aubrey followed his pointing finger. A flutter of movement hooked her gaze and quickened her heartbeat.

A marker, just like the land official had explained when she registered for the race, stood by its lonesome about half a mile away.

The marker waited for her like a treasure.

Ben poked his head above the prairie floor, swiveling as he spied all around them. “Come on, Aubrey. It’s safe. Let’s stake your claim.” He stood up.

“Wait!” Aubrey tackled him to the ground. “You might have forced us into this situation, but I am not breaking any more rules. We’ll wait until noon.”

“You and your rules,” he grumbled. She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to relent. He flicked his head, and she crawled past him.

Just beyond the marker, they came to the top of a steep bank. They slid down. Relief coursed through her now that they were no longer in the open. A shallow stream snaked through the narrow creek bed. They crept along some rocks and came to a bend where the bank had eroded and left a cave-like nook. A perfect hiding place. Aubrey crawled inside the nook first. Ben cozied up next to her, his head skimming the muddy ceiling while his body blocked most of the opening. Aubrey’s eyes pricked with exhaustion.

“If we wait just past noon after the race begins, then I’ll stake my claim fair and square. At the same time as everyone else.” She brushed off dirt from her skirt and rubbed her tired knees.

“Don’t you worry, sis. I’ll make sure you do.” Ben yawned.

If she could only believe that. Last night was proof that she needed to get away from the likes of Ed and Ben Huxley. Even yesterday, he was nowhere to be found when that customer had tried to take advantage of her just before Cort Stanton came to her rescue. The handsome cowboy’s gallant gesture shone bright amid the dark memories of all the times her father had proved he couldn’t care less. Mr. Stanton didn’t know her at all, and yet he’d tried to help her in a time of need. If she had made it to the land race this morning, would she have been tempted to find him on the line?

Aubrey pushed her back into the packed dirt and closed her eyes, shoving away any more thoughts about the handsome distraction. Ben’s breathing was slow and rhythmic, lulling her to a dreamy state. They hid out in this little nook that she’d soon own. Chills squirmed their way up her crouching spine. Miss Landowner. Mama would never believe it. Aubrey couldn’t contain her smile. She spied the other side of the creek bed through the crowded opening. Untouched soil, wild grasses and freedom.

She was in the same sleepless predicament as she had been back at camp. How could she manage to rest at a time like this?

But when her eyes grew heavy and her smile faded, there was only one thing to do before sleep invaded her. She forced a little prayer:

Wake me up when it’s time to stake my claim. Quarter past noon would be best.

* * *

He really shouldn’t do it. The intense glare of sunshine promised the day would be agonizing enough. During the morning of the race the only thing Cort should be doing was preparing for his venture on the prairie—finding his spot among the other settlers, waiting for the start and then racing to land of his own. Why did he choose to go find Miss Huxley instead?

He did run out of saddle soap. That was a good excuse. A fine reason to visit that shoddy corral and its beautiful owner once more. But, as he went against the flow of settlers, away from the starting line, he knew his notorious Stanton bloodline would be the death of him. He was just drawn to making wayward decisions, it seemed.

The Huxleys’ tents were all sealed up, but Mr. Huxley was outside, his feet propped up on a barrel as he snoozed in a rocking chair. Two old horses knocked around an empty pail with their dusty noses, and the gate of the corral swayed in the hot wind. Cort approached, closing the gate behind him. He pulled off his hat as he walked up to the old man.

“Excuse me, sir?” he said, but the man kept snoring. Cort spied the saddle soap on a table under a small canopy. He went up to the closed-off tent and cleared his throat. “Uh, Miss Huxley?”

He felt as ridiculous as a schoolboy trying to prove himself to be a man. He crammed his hat on his head. He could do without the saddle soap. As he turned, his boot crushed a piece of parchment.

It was crumpled up in the red Oklahoma dirt. He blew it off. It was a letter, not addressed to him, yet he couldn’t help but read the elegant handwriting:

Dear Pa,

By the time you read this, I’ll be riding in the race, praying that I have the chance to find some land of my own. Ever since Mama passed, I’ve wanted to honor her with a proper horse ranch of her dreams. I know you weren’t able to give that to her, but as her daughter, I must try.

Please don’t look for me. I am twenty-two years old and need to find my own way apart from you and Ben. I have left you the last of my savings from sewing, which should help with your expenses to get back home and even buy a couple decent horses for profit. That’s the last I can offer you, Father. I’ll send word once I am established. Take care of Ben. He needs you, and you need him. But right now, I just need to do this on my own.

Your daughter,

Aubrey.

Cort let out a long whistle. Mr. Huxley slept in his rocker even though his daughter had just bidden him farewell forever?

Cort and Aubrey had talked about their secrets last night. Aubrey’s was out in the open now. The hope Aubrey had kindled in him as they parted ways last night flooded him now. He wondered what it might feel like to have his secret out. Sure, it would clear his name. Give him a chance at freedom, but at what cost? If he told anyone the truth, he’d risk the chance of his brother being taken away from his young family forever. Cort would never forgive himself.

No. His innocence would never be found out. It would jeopardize his brother’s freedom and his nephew’s future.

He lifted his gaze from the letter to the distant horizon already shimmering in the heat.

She was somewhere along the start line, ready to build a ranch of her own. Now that Cort was a praying man, he said a prayer for Aubrey’s safety. And then, against his own reasoning, he prayed that one day they’d meet again. He couldn’t look for her today, but one day. And he hoped it would be a day he wasn’t ruled by the fear of the law catching up with him. Perhaps when he was certain of his freedom, he might even share his life with a woman like Aubrey Huxley by his side.

He shook his head. Dreaming was no pastime for a cowboy who’d run out of chances. He may be free now, thanks to his dear friend Sheriff Conway, who’d allowed him to escape that prison fire and run away. But now that the sheriff had died of typhoid, he didn’t stand a chance against the rest of the state of Texas. Cort Stanton could outrun his fellow land seekers, but he couldn’t outrun his past. If anything, he should pray that God would keep him far away from Miss Huxley.

Before he left the corral, he crumpled up the paper again and threw it down where Mr. Huxley had tossed it. He would only focus on the race now.

The swarm of settlers fled the camp, yanking their whole lives in wagons, carts and packs. Cort was blessed in that way. He had nothing but what was in his small pack. Once he untied his horse and led him to the start line, he swung himself on top of his saddle. The anticipation around him frenzied like a kicked beehive. It was a day of all days. The day where he would cling to living and leave everything else behind. Live in the moment and do what he did best. Work the land.

“Whoa, boy.” He tried to calm the horse as he kept his place in the bulging line. It was tough to expect much from the animal amid the chaos, but talking to him was at least calming Cort’s own nerves.

Was he really this close to possessing his own piece of land? His heart stuttered. Just two years ago he was content working someone else’s land clear up in Wyoming. But now?

He loosened the bandanna around his neck. Either the heat was getting to him, or his conscience was starting early. Usually, he did well to not think about it until the quiet of nightfall. Perhaps the quieting mass as they neared noon gave him too much room to ponder. Ironic to think of this as a thought-provoking place. He was packed in between thousands of horses, hundreds of carts and sweating settlers hungry for what a fourteen-dollar registration fee bought them—a slim chance at acreage. A baby’s cry pierced the aggravated silence. Regret niggled in Cort’s core while he tightened the grip on his reins, leaning forward as most everyone did around him. He’d yet to have a family to provide for. Would he ever? His costly mistakes before now may have jeopardized any chance for that.

Aubrey Huxley slipped across his mind again. How could one woman have such an effect on him in such a short amount of time? One thing was certain: he could not endanger her happiness by linking his future with hers. No, he couldn’t pull anyone else into his life now.

His horse slung his head back and snorted.

When an explosion coursed through the stifling heat and the line lurched forward, Cort kicked his horse to a roaring gallop. He left behind the billowing dust and toppling wagons, focusing only on one thing—staking his claim where God knew best.

Chapter Three

Aubrey woke up with a gasp. Ben was leaning most of his weight on her, blocking any view to the creek bed.

She shoved him. “Wake up.” The air was hot and the light outside was a bold afternoon shine, not a weak morning glitter.

What time was it?

Ben stretched his arms, but Aubrey couldn’t wait. She scrambled over him, elbows and knees battering her brother in the process.

“Ow!”

“We overslept. I know it.” Her voice was as hoarse as the train whistle in the distance. She grabbed her sack and ran down the creek. “Come on, Ben. Look at the sun. Is it straight above?” She refused to consider that it was on more of a western crawl.

Please, let there be time.

She heaved the sack on the higher ground then pulled herself up. The clip-clop of hooves grew louder, louder still. Her heartbeat skipped ahead of the noisy gallop. Upon the horizon, a man appeared, racing straight toward the marker.

“No!” She yanked out her stake from her sack and clambered to her feet. Her legs were weak from the marathon run last night. As she took her first stride, her knees buckled. The rocky ground met her splayed hands while the stake lay without purpose just beneath her.

“Are you okay?” Ben rested a hand on her shoulder.

Aubrey whipped her head around and screamed, “Go!”

Her hands burned like fire, yet she could only focus on one thing—the man leaping off his horse and racing her brother to the marker.

Ben was closer—she was sure of it. That was, until the man swiped the marker away and lifted his stake above his head. When he pierced the ground, Aubrey’s dream came crashing down like pouring rain after the final crack of thunder.

Everything she had planned—to break free from her father, to revive her mama’s dream, to make something of this life—slipped into a sour memory. Her stomach twisted. How could this happen?

A wild groan erupted from Ben. He flung himself at the man, wrapping his arms around the man’s knees. They rolled away from the stake and Ben’s fists pounded into his opponent. Aubrey knew Ben’s effort was futile. The man had claimed the land. Nothing would change that. Yet a swell of awe struck her as her brother fought—for her. But when Aubrey spied the man’s holster on his hip, panic puffed her with fear.