The Outlaw's Second Chance. Angie Dicken

at the land office, she stood among hundreds of people eager to register their land in the already thriving town of Alva. She couldn’t believe the haggling that was already taking place among settlers who had just run the race of their lives. Tents were set up just like at the camp before the run—saloon tents, lawyers and even a doctor tending to many men and women who’d been injured in the shuffle. Aubrey was able to speak with him about Ben and he had said he’d follow her home after the town’s first church service tomorrow morning. Although she was glad to leave behind the chaos in town, Aubrey was also thrilled to be counted among these settlers who were not lazy about making life here and making it quick.

      Aubrey galloped most of the way back. She hadn’t planned to spend so much time away, and her anxiety was heightened as she thought about Ben. When she approached the grove of trees on the western part of her property, though, she slowed to a trot. The peace of the prairie invited her back like she’d been living there for years. Every shadow, every blade of dry grass upon which they would now tread, was hers. Mr. Stanton walked over and offered his hand to help her off the horse. The excitement roaring through her veins made it difficult to refrain from wrapping him in a celebratory embrace. Instead, she crossed over to check on Ben. He was breathing just fine and had a wet handkerchief over his forehead. She twisted a bandanna in her hands and walked up to the cowboy poking at a fire near the ridge above the creek bed. “Thank you for caring for him.”

      “Glad to help. Don’t think he knows who I am. Barely opened his eyes when I offered him a drink.” He gave a warm smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

      “I’m not sure what you’re hiding from, Mr. Stanton, but it can’t be too bad.” Should she say what was on her mind? She’d thought about it all the way home. “You’ve been quite the gentleman today.” And yesterday, for that matter. She fixed her eyes on the flame as she gave him praise for his chivalrous ways, hoping he’d stay accountable to those ways throughout the evening.

      “That’s kind of you, Miss Huxley.” His scratchy voice tempted her to look up at him. The dancing flames were trapped in his eyes. He grinned warmly.

      She sat down and leaned back on her hands. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. I’m planning on building my first sod house.”

      Mr. Stanton threw back his head and chuckled. “That’s quite a feat, Miss Huxley. I told you I was here to help.”

      Her neck crawled with heat. She scooted back from the fire. “You’re better off taking care of yourself, sir. I don’t want to depend on anyone, especially a stranger.”

      “Aubrey—” He curled his lip in, then continued, “Do you mind if I call you that?”

      She shook her head, trying to ignore the delight of hearing her name on his lips.

      “I said I’d help you get the ranch going, and I will. I’ll do my best to not disappoint you.”

      Aubrey stood to her feet and began to place her hands on her hips, but reconsidered and dropped them to her sides. “Mr. Stanton—”

      “Cort.”

      She swallowed hard. A nervous stampede pelted its way across her stomach. How could such a rugged cowboy not only cast off his land, but swear by his word in such a way that every ounce of her spirit believed him? She refused to depend on him, though. No matter how much he offered his assistance. Leaning on him would wreck the independence she had finally found after escaping a man like Pa. Anything else would lead toward her demise, just like Mama found out after years with Pa.

      “Cort. It’s obvious that you try to be a man of your word. You kept it while I was away, and for that, I thank you. But don’t think that I am ever going to count on anything you say you’re going to do, or anyone says, for that matter. I am only here for one person—my mother. If I get help along the way, then so be it. But I have my assumptions that your leaving might not be of your own accord. I can only take what you offer to do with a grain of salt.”

      If Cort’s stare could, it would burn the very fire that blazed between them. His look barreled through her. Was he angry? Why in the world would she turn away the only able person who’d help her willingly? She must preserve her hope and expectations. It was the only way she could stay strong enough to do this.

      “Okay, Aubrey.” He leaned back on an elbow and crossed his feet on one side of the fire. “I’ve got my own sod house to build anyway. But of course, only if you say so, Miss Landowner.”

      Warding off a rush of uncertainty, Aubrey pulled her shoulders back and spun around on her heel. She’d better get some rest if she wanted to be the first to borrow that neighbor’s steel plow she had her eye on.

      “Good night, Mr. Stanton,” she said.

      “Cort,” he retorted.

      Goose bumps plucked her arms and she walked away.

      Now to figure out where her house would go, and how many acres she should place between Cort Stanton and herself.

       Chapter Four

      The last of the embers died, snuffing out Cort’s view of Aubrey’s makeshift tent. He could just see the soles of her boots sticking out as she lay next to her brother.

      Stubborn woman.

      How could she expect to manage a plow and the task of building four walls of sod all by herself? Cort winced as he lay back and tucked his bag beneath his head. She would have had her brother’s help if it weren’t for him.

      Wasn’t that just typical of Cort Stanton? To fight for something that wasn’t really his and hurt people in the process? He’d proved this back in Wyoming during the range war. He’d protected his boss’s land but ended up fighting against his own brother. Charles had joined the unlawful gunslingers, forcing Cort to choose between standing up for good and his own flesh and blood.

      How many ill deeds had Cort witnessed because of his loyalty to Charles?

      Cort slung his arm across his face and tried to calm his mind and get some sleep. Before he could even consider blinking away the image of Aubrey’s brown eyes from the backs of his eyelids, an unsettling groan drowned out a chorus of crickets.

      “Ben, just stay still.” Aubrey’s voice rang out.

      Another agonizing noise. Cort skittered to his feet and dug through his bag for his lantern and a match. By the time he made his way to Aubrey, she was frantically rummaging through her own belongings. Cort knelt down. The light shone bright upon Ben’s face as he gasped, squeezing his eyes tight.

      “Don’t move, Ben.” Aubrey laid her hand on his forehead then swiped it downward along his cheek.

      “It’s killin’ me.” Tears streamed down Ben’s cheeks.

      “I know, brother.” She cast wide, questioning eyes in Cort’s direction. As if he had answers. He wished he did. But the only sure answer was that her brother’s hurt was all his fault.

      “You spoke with a doctor?” Cort whispered.

      She confirmed with a quick nod. “He’s coming tomorrow.”

      “Good.”

      Aubrey’s petite fingers clasped Cort’s hand tightly. He shot a look of confusion at her. She grabbed Ben’s hand and bowed her head.

      “Heavenly Father, watch over Your child tonight. May Your healing hands lie upon Ben’s body and begin to mend whatever might be broken. Give the doctor wisdom tomorrow, and let Ben rest well tonight. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

      As quickly as she’d held his hand, she let go and turned completely toward her brother. The hair on Cort’s arms stood up on end. Her earnest prayer moved him.

      Aubrey’s hum trickled into the night air, blessing any listener with its melody. The crickets’ lullaby met its match. He tried to forget the warmth from