The Outlaw's Second Chance. Angie Dicken
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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 scratched her cheek. Her heart thumped hard against the packed soil. The earthy aroma filled her nostrils as she dragged herself toward the direction of her horse.
The ground beneath her began to rumble, and every inch of her stiffened again.
“I didn’t find anything,” a man called out.
“We’ll find him in the morning. I know I got him. Probably wounded,” another man said. “Let’s go to the watering station and then return to our posts. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” Their horses’ trotting faded as they rode away.
When she was certain only stillness filled her surroundings, she relaxed her clenched fists and stilled her grinding teeth. She continued crawling through the coarse grass. If she could just find her horse, she’d return to camp and run the race. The moon was bright now. While her eyes adjusted, her ears played tricks on her. She cocked her head. What she thought was a whinny ended up being a distant train whistle. The locomotive’s rhythmic trudge across the land gave it away. She crawled forward but stopped at a nearby rustle ahead.
A wave of fear skittered across her heart.
Just a few feet in front of her, boot soles inched forward through the tall grass. A white flag was tucked in the back pocket of 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