Lord, show me Your will in all of this.
If she thought of Mama—how she worked as a seamstress, her fingers bleeding, how she had stashed away her money in the jar at the back of the pantry, and she’d poured out every ounce of her energy for this dream—then the least Aubrey could do was make it come true. Even if the jar had been raided often by greedy paws, and the dream was dashed by her father’s dishonest deeds. Aubrey’s own pay from the dress shop was her assurance that Pa would leave her be. At least she didn’t have to worry about that. She had come this far, and she must persevere regardless of what might stand in the way.
Dr. Mills disappeared beyond the mesquite trees. He had called Aubrey blessed for surviving the land run with something to show for it. She thanked God for the land and the creek. In town, pails and barrels of water were being sold for a price. Yesterday, she’d breathed in the black dust that hung over the newborn town of Alva, smelling the sweat of hundreds who had settled for a small plot in town instead of a homestead on the prairie. It was time Aubrey rekindled her determination.
No, she wouldn’t give up. She had dealt with the challenges of living under the same roof as Ed Huxley all these years, hadn’t she? Nursing a broken leg and building a ranch from scratch couldn’t be any worse than that, could it?
“Aubrey, why’s that man hanging around?” Ben called to her.
“I’ll talk with you soon, brother,” she said. He looked like he might get up and chase her down. “Don’t you move.” She didn’t want to face his anger yet. First things first. Take the good doctor’s advice and get some water.
Aubrey slid down the ridge to fill her canteen. A large mass of dirt was piled against the embankment to the east. The soft plodding of tossed soil alternated with labored breathing. She wormed her way around the pile that was close to damming up the very creek that she’d thanked God for. Cort’s back was to her, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows while he shoveled soil in a constant rhythm. The muscles along his tanned forearm flexed with each movement and his shirt clung to his skin with perspiration.
Aubrey filled her lungs with a jagged breath and glanced away. “Mr. Stanton?”
He stopped midshovel. When she managed to look his way again, she saw that earth smeared his glistening face.
Aubrey’s mouth went dry. Their eyes locked on each other. The freshly disturbed dirt scented the air just as it had done when she’d crawled through the night. Cort had crossed her mind more than once during that long venture. Now he was part of her new beginning. For how long, she didn’t know.
She cleared her throat. “I do wonder why you are digging on my land?”
Cort cocked his head but kept her in his sights from the corner of his eye. Was he trying to gauge if she jested? She did not. It seemed he was building himself shelter without even consulting her on its placement. It was a fine hole, though. Big enough that he could probably lie in its width or its depth with room to spare.
“Well, I figured if you owned land, you would need a shelter better than a quilt strung over a shovel.” He placed his finger on his upper lip as if trying to contain a smile.
Aubrey swallowed hard. “This is for me?”
“And Ben, I suppose. Dr. Mills seemed pretty adamant.”
“But I told you, I was going to build a sod house...” Her voice was barely audible. His work had stolen her boldness.
“This is temporary but necessary in this heat. A soddie will take time to build.” He released a broad, charming smile showcasing white teeth and his usual dimple.
“Oh.” Aubrey diverted her eyes. How could she stop the flood within her? Her emotions were at war. Gratitude leaped higher than her reservation. This man was stubborn in keeping his word to help, wasn’t he? A gentleman to a fault? How in the world could she protect herself from dependence when Cort Stanton kept on like this?
“That’s mighty nice of you, Mr. Stanton—”
“Cort. Using my first name is fine by me.”
“Okay, Cort. This is a fine shelter.”
“Thank you. I just can’t sit by and—”
“For you.”
Cort’s mouth hung open like he’d been snagged by her words.
“I’ll build my own, though.” She forced herself to appear unwavering, with a cool facade and a confident posture—even if her insides were melting by his gesture.
The cowboy’s brow pulled over his eyes like an angry storm cloud above broken land. All joy dissolved from his face, unveiling an undeniable defeat. He gathered up his shovel and approached her in such a deliberate move that she took a step back.
“Fine. If you’re so stuck on being self-sufficient, start digging.” He pushed the shovel toward her, the handle inches from her nose. As soon as her fingers wrapped around it, Cort slid between her and the dirt pile and stomped down the creek bed.
She blinked away tears as she stared at the product of all his effort.
Of course the man was angry. He’d done all this for her. She’d allowed her stubborn walls to deflect his act of kindness.
How could she so easily reject the nicest gift that she had ever received?
* * *
Cort maintained his attention on the distant flame, his only sure proof that he was heading back in the right direction. He had spied Aubrey building a fire through the hazy dusk while he became acquainted with the neighbors. Frank and Mildred Hicks were kind enough, no doubt friendlier now that they’d exchanged the use of their plow for Cort’s help in getting the rest of their house up. He would work with them until the noon hour then use the plow for himself and return it first thing each morning. The downside was that he’d work on his own soddie in the heat of the day. But that was the price he would pay for the use of a plow to cut sod.
His stomach was a tumbleweed of nerves after the way he’d left things with Aubrey. It was probably for the best, though. Now he was sure that he wouldn’t grow any attachments. He’d be a good tenant and help only if she asked. Besides renting a small section of land from the woman, he really had no other reason to associate with her at all.
Except, of course, if he let her magnetic strength and wits have anything to do with it.
Lord, give me self-control.
He sure needed that fruit of the Spirit with a woman like Aubrey Huxley as his landlady.
By the time he trotted over to his horse’s sleeping spot, the pinpricked quilt of the night sky twinkled above. Cort ignored the tug to look around for Aubrey.
Self control, remember?
He traipsed toward the ridge and tried to look forward to sleeping in the hole he’d supposedly dug for himself. It’d be nice to sleep on dry dirt and not the coarse grass of the prairie. It was cooler down in the creek bed, too. Cort talked himself into it, moving at a more certain pace until Aubrey came around from the small fire and stood in front of him.
“I just have one thing to say to you.” She crossed her arms over her torso. Her face was dark except for an orange shaft of firelight cutting across her cheek and highlighting a deep carved line between her brows. He was captured by the medley of color in her eye. “We had agreed the only thing I owed you in this whole land exchange deal was a plot of land for you to work yourself. I know you offered help until you supposedly leave, but there’s one thing about that.” Her nostrils flared. “I need to know why.” The wrinkle between her eyebrows smoothed.
“Why? I dug it for you because it was the right thing to do.”
“No,