The Outlaw's Second Chance. Angie Dicken

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.

      She must warn her brother. “Stop!”

      Ben looked up from the brawl and the other man hunched over, his shoulders heaving with big breaths. Ben’s brows turned downward into a sharp V. She’d seen that look when he was planning a devious scheme. She began to take brisk strides toward him. He couldn’t continue, especially with the rightful owner retreating. Before she could speak, Ben swiveled around and barreled toward the unaware stranger. His head lodged in the man’s ribs. Grunting and groaning eclipsed Aubrey’s screams. Ben wouldn’t relent. Every time the man tried to escape, he’d clutch at him.

      “Ben Huxley. You stop this instant,” Aubrey yelled from the back of her throat. The man tried to push him off, and Ben’s foot slipped from under him. He didn’t let go. Suddenly, they fell in a heap, Ben trapped under his opponent. The thud shook the ground beneath Aubrey’s feet.

      She ran to them. “Ben, are you okay?” The man rolled off. Her brother lay there, moaning and reaching for his leg. “Ben, talk to me.” His leg was bent in an awful shape and his eyes fluttered open then rolled back.

      “Ben!”

      Slapping his face did nothing. His head became a heavy boulder in her arms.

      Silence hung in the air, thicker than the dust that refused to settle from the fight. It seemed everything floated in a trapped moment of time. Aubrey listened as Ben’s heart began to slow from its quickened beat. The same rhythmic breathing from earlier this morning tickled her arm as she swiped away his hair to check for any open wounds. She tried to gently shake him awake.

      His eyes fluttered open. Then he screwed his face up, reaching his hands down toward his legs. “It hurts, sis.”

      “Just don’t move. We’ll get you help.”

      A shadow blanketed her. Aware of her vulnerability now, Aubrey held her breath and skimmed her gaze upward. The man stood with a ray of sunshine around his silhouette. His body was indeed a shadow, dark and indistinguishable against the bright Oklahoma sky.

      “Is this man with you?” His voice rolled away Aubrey’s timidity. She knew that voice. Her mouth fell as she tried to make out his features.

      She swallowed hard and said, “He’s my brother.”

      “Miss Huxley, I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” Cort Stanton squatted in front of her, and his face came into focus. His chiseled cheeks and strong jaw were covered in a thick layer of black dust, no doubt from the stampede of horses at the race. His green eyes pierced hers eagerly. There was that compassion again. He swiped his hat from his head, hanging it on his knee. “I tried to step away. I—I...” A crease appeared between his eyebrows, and he placed a hand on her arm. “I am so sorry.”

      Aubrey stared at his strong, sun-stained hand—brown against her cotton sleeve—the hand of a hard worker but the soft touch of a dear friend. “He’s in pain, Mr. Stanton.” She searched his face once more for any sign of malice. If only she could find it then she wouldn’t feel so bad that he was the one person who’d destroyed her chance to own land.

      His face transformed with an apology, but it would never be enough to comfort her. After all she’d gone through, she’d not only lost her one hundred and sixty acres, but injured her brother in the effort. A tender look on a handsome face did nothing to soothe her broken heart or restore her shattered dream.

      “I can’t tell if you’re devising a plan of revenge, or if stealing my breath away is revenge enough.” Cort managed a smile that would’ve tempted many a woman to swoon and forget their current situation. But Aubrey was not just any woman. His charm only trivialized her loss.

      “I do not intend to devise a plan.” She cleared her throat. “My only plan is ruined.” All her hope skittered away when he staked her claim.

      Aubrey encouraged her brother to rest then carefully left his side. She brushed off her skirt, making sure her ankles were