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.”
“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?
Aubrey couldn’t sleep. Pa had returned to his own tent clear after nightfall and was snoring loud and long. How did her brother, Ben, put up with it? How could he put up with many of Pa’s ways like he did? Ben was eighteen and a little puppet for their father.
She tried to breathe in rhythm with the snoring next door, but could only grimace with her effort. Her eyes caught the outline of her flag sticking out of her bag. She tried focusing on the waiting land and on staking her claim, but Cort Stanton crept into her mind. Even if she was offended by the cowboy at first, Cort had redeemed himself when he came to her rescue. She’d never let on what it meant to her.
But it meant something. It had been a long time since someone looked out for Aubrey Huxley. After Mama passed away, she’d never felt cared for. Not until this afternoon when that handsome cowboy threatened that horrible man at the corral did Aubrey realize how much she longed for such honorable attention.
The sound of nearing footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Who was about at this time of night? Maybe sooners? In past land races, they’d been known to steal into the night looking for land—would they take a horse also? As she dressed, she slipped her pistol into her pocket, ready to fight for her new horse.
The warm night air was coated in fire smoke and murmurs of folk preparing for tomorrow.
“Hey there, sis.” Ben startled her before she could look for a prowler. He held open the flap to his and Pa’s tent.
“Were you walking around just now?” She peeked about the corral, then quickly glanced behind her tent. Her horse was still tied to the hitch. She blew out her tension. “I thought you were asleep.”
“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.”
