The Outlaw's Second Chance. Angie Dicken

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ