A Cowboy Worth Claiming

by Charlene Sands

  Lizzie plunged right in. She hated her circumstances. And hated that she would have to disappoint the little girl, yet she owed her an explanation. “I’m sorry, Sarah. But I don’t have your very special doll today. I… There was an accident and—”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I’m very sorry, Sarah.”

  Sarah put her head down and Lizzie looked up just in time to see Chance’s eyes soften on the child.

  Lizzie sighed and continued, speaking slowly to Sarah, while at the same time darting glances at Mrs. Swenson, her explanation meant for both of them. She didn’t elaborate about how she’d gone down in the water, fishing for dolls near the lake bottom until her lungs burned. No, she didn’t want to see the look on Chance’s face if she admitted that, but she did tell them about how the rickety old boat had failed her and how quickly the lake had swallowed up all the dolls.

  “I’m sorry to say your doll and five others are sitting on the bottom of the lake out by my house.”

  Sarah nodded, her head still down.

  “Lizzie, I know how hard you worked on those dolls,” Mrs. Swenson said. “It must have been horrible to see all that work destroyed.” She lowered down on a flowery material-backed armchair adjacent to her.

  “Yes, ma’am. It was.”

  “Lizzie is mighty lucky she came away with her life,” Chance added, unnecessarily. He ignored her glare, speaking directly to Sarah’s mother. “The lake was about ready to swallow her up, too.”

  She sent him a brittle smile, then shifted her attention to convince Sarah’s mother. “It wasn’t truly dangerous.”

  Greta Swenson’s eyes widened with surprise and horror as she laid her hand over her heart. “Oh, Lizzie. Those dolls aren’t worth your life. I’m glad you got out of the lake safe and sound.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzie said, giving up trying to convince anyone about anything. She was more concerned with Sarah. The little girl was crestfallen and still hadn’t looked up. She softened her tone. “Sarah, I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, but I have something for you. It’s something very special to me and I want you to do me a favor.”

  Finally, Sarah lifted her face and cast her a round-eyed look as desolate as Arizona’s drought land. Lizzie prayed this would be enough to remove the disappointment from Sarah’s face. “A favor?”

  “Uh-huh,” Lizzie said. “I have to go away for a little while. And, well, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch Sally Ann for me.”

  She unfolded the package carefully, undoing the edges one corner at a time, until Sally Ann’s smiling face came into view. “She was a gift from my father.”

  Sarah gasped, her body stirring with vitality. “She’s pretty.”

  Not nearly as pretty as the doll Lizzie had fashioned for Sarah. But from the child’s expression of awe, she didn’t seem to notice the discolored clothes and slight tears in the fabric. “And old. I never let her out of my sight after…well, when I was a little girl. She went everywhere with me. I sure did love her. And now, since I’m going on a trail drive and won’t be able to replace your very special doll for a while, I’m hoping you can keep an eye on Sally Ann for me.”

  Sarah began nodding eagerly, her eyes bright.

  “I think you could do that, don’t you, Sarah?” Mrs. Swenson asked.

  “Yes, Mama. I can.”

  “Do you want to hold her?” When Sarah’s head bobbed up and down, Lizzie lifted the doll from her lap and handed her over. “Here you go.”

  Sarah wrapped her arms around the doll and squeezed it tenderly as though it was the answer to all her prayers. She brought the doll’s body against her face. “She’s soft.”

  “I know. All that stuffing,” Lizzie said, grinning.

  Sarah chuckled.

  “Will you take good care of her for me?” Lizzie asked.

  The little girl’s voice was sweet to Lizzie’s ears and full of eager excitement. “Yes, I promise. I’ll sleep with her and everything.”

  Lizzie fingered the doll’s braided brown yarn hair and whispered past the lump in her throat, “I was hoping you would.”

  Sarah beamed with joy and a bit of youthful color tinged her sallow cheeks to a pink glow.

  “When I get back from driving cattle, I’ll be sure to sew you a doll all your own. But for now, I sure do appreciate you doing me this favor.”

  Lizzie glanced at Sarah’s mother and choked up all over again at the woman’s grateful expression. Mrs. Swenson’s voice softened as she managed the words. “She’ll take excellent care of her for you, Lizzie.”

  “I know she will.”

  Mrs. Swenson leaned over and brought her into a close embrace, whispering near her ear, “Thank you.”

  Too overwrought with emotion to reply, Lizzie simply nodded.

  After they waved goodbye to mother and daughter on the porch, Chance helped her up onto the saddle and then took hold of the reins, leading Joyful on foot. “You’re walking the rest of the way?” she asked.

  “Can’t take all that fidgeting you do.”

  “I do not fidget.”

  “You do. And you’re good at it.”

  “Well, at least you think I’m good at something.”

  Chance glanced over his shoulder to gaze at her from under the brim of his hat. “You’re good at more than one thing.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she was about to ask what he meant until his gaze shifted and she followed it back to the Swenson house. Sarah was still there, waving to them with one hand, while holding onto Sally Ann in a tight grip with the other and wearing a big smile on her face.

  “Was a real nice thing you did just now, Lizzie.”

  With that, he turned around and picked up the pace, walking at a steady beat toward town.

  Lizzie remained in the saddle, speechless. Chance had paid her a compliment, and it felt better than a warm steamy soak in a bathtub. In truth, it annoyed her how much his flattering remark pleased her.

  And if she wasn’t terribly careful, she might wind up actually liking him.

  Lord, have mercy.

  * * *

  People gawked from the storefronts and sidewalks as Chance guided Joyful through Red Ridge with Lizzie atop the mare. He was used to being a stranger, to being watched, and he didn’t fault the town for being cautious. He’d been the outcast enough in his time to know when stares meant simple curiosity or when they meant trouble. Today, curiosity was in favor, so Chance met with their eyes with a nod of his head and a smile. As he took in the town, he made note of the wide sidewalks and pristine shops, the clean streets and orderly manner in which the town was laid out.

  So unlike the booming cow towns he’d known where indecency and despair seemed the way of life. Where saloons outnumbered churches by five to one and where crime and debauchery were not only tolerated, but expected by the few fine citizens whose roots were so ingrained that leaving wasn’t a consideration, no matter how rowdy the town had become.

  “Peter Roberson owns the livery,” Lizzie said, as the double wide barnlike establishment came into view. “His sons work there. You’ll find Earl an expert horseman and Warren as honest as a preacher at Sunday services.”

  “Good to know,” Chance said.

  When he reached the entrance to the livery, he turned to help Lizzie down from the saddle. She was light as a feather, a mere wisp of a girl, so it took no effort at all to bring her to steady ground. She had pretty eyes though and when leveled on him with a blue-as-sky stare, like she was doing right now, Chance got a little lost in them.

  A boy approached who appeared a bit older than Lizzie and a foot taller, but just as slender.

  “Mornin’, folks.” He shot a quick glance at Chance with furrowed brows and then laid eyes
on Lizzie and kept them there.

  “Good morning, Warren.”

  “Lizzie, it’s real nice to see you.”

  Lizzie didn’t return the warm sentiment, but got right to business. “This is Chance Worth. He’s gonna rent us some cow horses for the cattle drive.”

  They shook hands.

  “Your grandpa and you going on the drive?” Warren asked, cheerful as the day was long. “Same as usual?”

  The girl couldn’t hide emotion very well. She sent Chance a sour look. “No, Grandpa isn’t…he isn’t going, is all.”

  “I’ll be driving the herd this time around,” Chance said, tipping his hat back.

  Warren looked at Lizzie, blinking a few times. “You two plan on going together?”

  “Yep,” Chance said, watching envy enter into Warren’s eyes. It was clear the boy was smitten, and Lizzie, true to form, wasn’t obliging Warren’s eager looks. The horseman could be the answer to Edward’s other request, an easy solution to Chance’s problem of finding Lizzie a suitor, if only Lizzie was willing. But she’d have to smile more and actually give the poor boy a little encouragement for that to happen. Wouldn’t be like Lizzie to make life easy for him, though. She was determined to be a pain in the ass, whether she was aware of it or not. “I’m helping Edward Mitchell at the ranch.”

  Lizzie folded her arms across her middle. “No need going into detail. We need some horses, Warren. You rent horses. That’s why we’re here.”

  The boy snapped to attention at Lizzie’s churlish manner. “Sure,” he said, his brown eyes dimming. “We got some real strong horses.”

  After twenty minutes and a few arguments with Lizzie about which cow horses would suit her best, Chance rode out on Joyful, while Lizzie rode a gelding that was strong, sturdy and small enough to do the job and keep her safe.

  The gal had a tongue on her and used it every chance she got. No matter what Warren offered, or what Chance said, Lizzie had a contrary response. Made a man want to scratch his head and paddle her bottom at the same time. But Chance was the boss on the drive and wasn’t shy about reminding her. He wasn’t about to let her dictate any terms, and they wound up with four horses overall that would serve their purpose well.

  They entered the general store to buy supplies for the trail—coffee, flour, dry tack and cans of beans, among other items. Chance added a bit of his own money for some extra luxuries along the way. He had a sweet tooth and knew that after a long day of eating dust and pounding earth, something tasty and sugary helped soothe a weary cowboy.

  Lizzie was still smarting from not getting her way at the livery when they’d walked out, loaded down with supplies. It took a bit of doing, but they packed two of the horses down, tying everything securely. Chance noticed that when set to task, Lizzie didn’t disappoint. She worked hard without complaint, and he hoped to high heaven that that would hold true during the week they’d be on the road together.

  “You could’ve been nicer to Warren,” he said, plucking a licorice stick out from a nest of them in a brown sack. He waved it at her.

  Her jaw set stubbornly. “I was nice enough to Warren.”

  “Nice? You call that nice?” He dug his teeth into the licorice and it stretched easily as he pulled off a chunk. He began to chew, enjoying the strong sweet flavor as he contemplated. “A female’s got to be as sweet as this here licorice stick. You know, soft and delicate and definitely worth the wait.”

  “The wait?” Lizzie’s brows furrowed as she watched him jaw a few more bites. “What on earth?”

  “I haven’t had any licorice in a long time.”

  “That’s evident.” Lizzie eyed the candy and shook her head. “You’re devouring it like your last meal.”

  “A man needs some sweetness in his life.” He caught her befuddled stare. “Uh, from time to time.”

  “I think the sugar’s gone to your head.”

  Chance grinned. “Might be.”

  He enjoyed teasing Lizzie, but he couldn’t forget who she was. An innocent. And here he was, making reference to things she surely had no knowledge about. His lack of sexual pleasure the past few months wasn’t ever going to be a topic of discussion with Edward’s granddaughter.

  “Here,” he said, offering her some candy. “Might sweeten you up a bit.”

  “I don’t need sweetening up, Chance Worth.”

  “Fine, if you don’t want any.” He took back his offer but before he could close the sack, Lizzie put her hand in there, pulling out a piece.

  She chomped down on the black confection, biting off a big piece. She chewed it like it was her last meal. Silently amused, Chance decided not to comment.

  “I have one more stop to make. Over at Mrs. Finch’s Millinery.”

  “You buying yourself a hat?” Chance glanced at her hair, pretty in curls down her back. Once she’d cleaned up from that rat’s nest yesterday and smoothed out the tangles, Lizzie’s long strands hung as rich and glossy as black ink. Chance imagined how fine it would feel free of the braid and flowing through his fingers.

  She gave him a long suffering look. “Might just buy me two hats. No, make that a dozen.”

  “A dozen?” A chuckle rose up from his throat and she greeted his amusement with a tilt of her chin. She huffed away, marching toward the millinery shop.

  He followed with the horses in tow, watching Lizzie make her way down the sidewalk, the feminine sway of her hips catching his eye. She wasn’t without some female qualities. With a little coaching, a bit more manners and a sweeter disposition, Lizzie would be a desirable woman. His brows rose as he imagined her dressed in something less bleak, a gown of color with dainty lace around her small bosom and hugging her slender curves, making a man wish he had a right to draw her close and kiss her.

  Chance tore his gaze from her backside and shook those thoughts free.

  He came upon the decorated shop and looked at the storefront window displaying hats of every size, color and shape with feathers, leather, silver and plumes decorating the brims. How many social events did a town like Red Ridge entertain to warrant the womenfolk wearing such fancy hats?

  His gaze traveled beyond those bonnets to Lizzie speaking with apology on her expression to the woman behind the counter. When the conversation was over, the woman gently embraced Lizzie. She came out of the shop, her lips downturned and a sour pout on her face.

  If she would smile once in a while, a man might actually think her pretty. But Lizzie wasn’t happy right now and she walked past him and the horses, heading in the direction of the ranch.

  Chance mounted Joyful, tying the other horses to the saddle horn, and headed in the same direction.

  Lizzie kept up a brisk pace.

  “You gonna walk all the way back home?”

  Her shoulder lifted in a shrug and she kept walking.

  “That woman upset you?”

  Her head shook slightly.

  “Lizzie?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Chance understood that. There was many a time when his life just wasn’t worth talking about. Lizzie had it rough lately, he’d give her that, and if she needed a little peace right now, Chance would grant her silence.

  Without her sass mouth doing any arguing, it would be two of the most pleasant miles he’d travel with her.

  * * *

  Lizzie’s feet ached and her stomach growled as they rounded the bend by the lake. She’d walked half the distance home so far, her feet moving beneath her rapidly as if they had a mind of their own. At times, Lizzie needed to walk off her remorse and her sorrow, but it wasn’t working out too well at the moment. She wasn’t alone and that was part of the problem. Chance was there, beside her, every step of the way. He’d been quiet on the way home from Red Ridge. Too
quiet. It unnerved her and allowed her mind to fill with distressing thoughts.

  Just when she was ready to make a comment about his silence, he began whistling a tune, out of tune. His carefree attitude grated on her even more. He had no cares in the world, it seemed, yet Lizzie had too much to care about. Too many troubles fogged up her brain and strong as she was, sometimes it all seemed overly much for her to take.

  She stopped walking and turned to him. “What’s that awful sound?”

  Chance pulled up on the reins and looked around. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m talking about your whistling. Sounds more like two starving hawks fighting over a carcass.”

  “Lizzie, you’re not hearing straight. Got something in your ears?”

  “No, but cotton would be good about now.”

  Chance grinned.

  It infuriated her that he looked upon her time and again with amusement, as if to say, she wasn’t a woman to be taken seriously. She refrained from stomping her feet and marching off. Planting her hands on her hips, she stood her ground. “What’s that smile for?”

  He shrugged and leaned over the saddle which made it easier to meet his piercing eyes. “Well, uh, Lizzie. You looked a little sad for some reason and I thought that my whistling might just brighten your day.”

  Lizzie didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re not that kind.”

  Chance glanced away, guilty, as if he’d been caught stealing from the church box. “You take pleasure in insulting me.”

  Indignant, her voice elevated a bit. “I didn’t insult you.”

  “Didn’t you? You don’t like my whistling and you don’t think I’m kind.”

  She had said that, hadn’t she? “Well, I just meant that you could follow a tune more closely.”

  “Uh-huh.” He tipped his hat back and she received the full force of his amused stare. “And the other?”

  “You expect me to believe you wanted to cheer me up with your whistling?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Maybe not exactly. I was gettin’ kind of bored with all the quiet.”

  “So you thought to annoy me?” she asked.