The Outlaw's Second Chance. Angie Dicken

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ