A Cowboy Worth Claiming

by Charlene Sands

  Chance returned minutes later with firewood bundled on the back of his horse. “I got lucky. Found some dry wood.” He dismounted quickly and took note of her work. “Horses watered down?”

  She nodded and trembled from the cool breezes coming from the north. “They’re satisfied. And I filled our canteens.”

  “Good, I’ll start the fire. We’ll make coffee. And maybe heat some beans.”

  Yesterday, they’d finished up the biscuits and cheese they’d packed, and all that was left to fill their bellies was strips of dried meat and beans. Those provisions wouldn’t do for a real outfit on a big cattle drive, but without a cookie and chuck wagon, it would have to make do. They’d had to travel light. Luckily, Lizzie didn’t need much to satisfy her appetite. Chance, on the other hand, could be eating more being as large a man as he was, but Lizzie figured he was used to going without. He could make do, with whatever God saw fit to give him.

  As the clouds displaced the sun, the air chilled quickly and a shiver rode up and down her body. Everything still ached, only now the cold had set in. Lizzie grabbed her coat and put it on. She was dirty, cold, tired and hungry. From a distance she watched Chance squat down to build a fire using leaves and cow dung. Once the fire sparked to life, he added the dry branches he’d found.

  “Come here,” Chance said, looking over his shoulder at her.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t argue. Just come.”

  Lizzie didn’t like him being so bossy and at times, she argued with him, just to let him know she had a point of view, too. But today, Lizzie was too tired to argue. She moved closer just as he gestured to a place directly next to him where he’d arranged a blanket. “Sit. Stay downwind of the smoke and get warm.”

  She plopped down on the blanket and decided that if she couldn’t have a hot bath, sitting by a blazing fire was the next best thing. “I didn’t need you to tell me that.”

  Chance sighed and sent her a hard look. “Sometimes, I think you’re contrary just to hear yourself talk.”

  She closed her eyes and muttered, “I’m not contrary,” but she couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for her defense.

  “I was going to pay you a compliment, until you sassed me.”

  She snapped her eyes open, wondering what kind of compliment Chance might have for her. To the best of her recollection he hadn’t said a kind word to her in days. Oh, he hadn’t been harsh, but he’d been something short of cordial. Not that she could blame him with the amount of sleep he was getting. He put in a long day’s work as well but darn it, he never looked tired. The only indication that he was on the trail and working day and night at all was the beard that shadowed his handsome face. That stubble looked mighty sinister on him. He reminded her of an outlaw she’d once seen being held in the Red Ridge jail. The man had been sentenced to ten years for robbery and assault and had been taken to prison. Lizzie had stolen a long look at him when the sheriff had transferred him into a prison wagon. “I didn’t sass you.”

  “Oh, no?” His brows arched and a skeptical look crossed his features.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle, curious as to the compliment. Staring into the fire, she didn’t know why it mattered so much what Chance said or thought about her, but it did. “I—I didn’t mean to. I’m a little tired, is all.”

  “Makes you grumpy?”

  “I’m not…”

  She halted midsentence and peered at Chance. His lips twitched. He had a habit of doing that around her. Like he wanted to burst out laughing, but held back, enjoying the private amusement all too much.

  But the fact was, Lizzie was grumpy. And she wouldn’t debate the issue, not if she wanted to hear what kind thing Chance had to say about her. “Just tired, Chance.”

  She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. They stared at each other, eyes locked for the span of three heartbeats. Then his gaze dropped lower to her mouth. Lizzie froze, just as she had the other day when he’d given her that very same look. Butterflies invaded her stomach and fluttered around in frenzied turmoil. The unanswered feeling confused her.

  Chance opened his mouth to say something and she waited. Patiently. But then his face twisted up and he turned away.

  “What were you going to say?” she asked, her curiosity and those swimming flutters making her bold.

  “Nothing.”

  “You had a compliment for me. What, now you don’t think I deserve it?”

  He slid a sideways glance her way and squinted as if in pain. “Hell, Lizzie. You are a handful.”

  “I may be wrong, but that doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

  He chuckled but refused to look at her.

  She laughed, too, the conversation and her fatigue making her giddy.

  “All right, you wore me down,” Chance said. “I’ll tell you.”

  Her breath whooshed out in a whisper. “What’s the compliment?”

  He scrubbed his jaw as if hating to relinquish this bit of information. “You’re working hard. And not giving me any real trouble. I see the toll this drive is taking on you and you haven’t complained once.” He shrugged and while Lizzie should have been overjoyed to hear him commend her for a job well done, her heart sagged just a little. What had she been expecting? She wasn’t quite sure.

  “I thought you should know you have my admiration. You’re taking it like a real…cowboy.”

  Lizzie hid her disappointment well, kept her shoulders straight and her breath steady. She even managed a smile for Chance that took every ounce of her will to muster. But at that very instant, Lizzie realized what she’d wanted Chance to say.

  And it was something more unattainable than a tub filled with steamy lilac water waiting for her just around the next bend.

  * * *

  Chance peered at the sky overhead and the mounting threat of rain. He’d hoped he’d been right, that a storm wasn’t brewing. But the air had grown unbelievably cold for this time of year and off in the distance, he heard the faintest booming of thunder. They were out on the open range, with no protection or shelter. Only a few scattered trees covered the ground within eyesight and offered no real defense against what Mother Nature might be conjuring up.

  He filled his belly with beans and meat as he sat with Lizzie by the fire. She’d eaten a healthy amount, too and for all her bustle and bother, he was gratified that she wasn’t acting like a wilting flower on the trail. He’d meant what he’d said to her a few minutes ago. She had true ranching in her spirit. She knew how to handle herself on the trail. Complaining wouldn’t make anything easier and giving in to your body’s complaints wouldn’t serve any real purpose. Lizzie seemed to understand that, even though she loved sassing him. If that was all he had to contend with during this time with her, well, hell, he wouldn’t kick up a fuss, except to sass her back.

  He sipped coffee, warming his hands on the mug and watching the firelight dance over Lizzie’s face and cast her in a pale glow. Her eyes, the brightest kind of blue, reflected in the blaze and each hue of those melding colors struck him like a punch to his gut.

  She had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

  They were unique and expressive and the longer he stared, the more he wanted to keep on staring. It was the damnedest thing.

  “Chance,” she whispered and the yearning in her voice stunned him out of his trance.

  Hell, he’d almost told her how pretty her eyes were. He’d almost paid her a compliment that this time wouldn’t disappoint her, because while his last one had been honest, he’d known by her fake smile and bravado that it hadn’t been the kind of compliment she’d wanted to hear.

  Lizzie wasn’t someone to dally with.

  Edward was counting on him to do right by her, protect her and find her a husband. Not entertain thoughts that would sabotage al
l three objectives.

  Luckily he’d smartened up before igniting a flame that would be hard putting out.

  He downed his coffee in one huge gulp and it went a long way to keep him warm. He poured some into Lizzie’s mug and handed it over, ignoring her pretty eyes that continued to stare at him. “Here, have another cup of coffee. It’ll take the chill off.”

  “I’m beginning to think nothing will.”

  Chance snapped his eyes to hers and wondered what she’d meant by that, truly. He was grateful when she grabbed the cup from his hands, though she refused to look at him. He rose from his seat and put his gloves on, holding his hands above the fire to warm them. Then he grabbed two rain slickers and tossed one to Lizzie. “Put this on. I’ll check on the horses and herd. You should try to get some sleep.”

  Thunder boomed, this time discernibly closer, and Chance saw lightning illuminate the sky a few seconds later.

  Lizzie looked skyward with a shiver.

  Chance had a bad feeling about this.

  He walked away from her and strode to the roped area where the horses rested. Joyful was jumpy. She never liked thunder and it seemed all of the horses followed suit and were aware of bad weather approaching. Chance fed them each some sugar cubes and patted them down using reassuring words, but all of his efforts were wasted when another clash of thunder boomed overhead.

  “Whoa, steady. Steady,” he murmured. He stayed with the horses until they settled down, his eyes and ears open to the cattle just yards away the entire time.

  If there was a stampede it would take days to retrieve them and they’d lose precious time. But they were a small herd and cattle were basically lazy animals that plodded along, so Chance had to put his faith in that. He found the herd unmindful of the weather at the moment, and that was a good sign.

  The rain came an hour later. The drizzle he’d hoped for had turned into a real downpour. Chance was torn between watching the herd and checking on Lizzie. Ultimately, he knew what mattered the most, to Edward and to…him.

  He left guarding the herd and found Lizzie leaning against a thin mesquite tree grabbing the smidgen of shelter it provided. Standing with a blanket over her head, she trembled uncontrollably.

  Chance cursed and berated himself for not checking on her sooner. There was no shelter, no way to get warm. The fire had gone out and it would be hours before it was dry enough to start one again. He strode over to her, his boots sloshing over the prairie grass and mud. “Lizzie, you’re freezing.”

  Her eyes were moist and he suspected it wasn’t the rain dripping down her cheeks. “I’m s-so c-cold.”

  Quickly, he tossed a blanket over a few thin branches and tugged her body under the pathetic shelter he’d forged. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He wrapped her tight in his embrace and cradled her head against his chest. She wasn’t just cold, but frozen to the bone. Her teeth chattered. Chance wrapped them in a blanket, the cool wet wool the only barrier from the outside cold.

  He rubbed her back and arms trying to bring some life into her blood, get it circulating enough to warm her a bit. “I’m sorry, Lizzie,” he murmured into her ear. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

  She shivered again and hugged him tighter.

  Chance closed his eyes. Usually when he held a woman this close, it was for a much more entertaining reason. If there was any trembling involved, it was in anticipation of the things they would do to each other. But Chance kept those thoughts away, concentrating on pressing his hands to her back and massaging the stiffness and cold from her body to keep Lizzie from freezing to death.

  When her knees buckled, he held her upright the best he could. “Hang on, darlin’. Hang on or we’ll both go down.”

  “I’m t-trying.”

  “The storm’s about to pass.”

  “H-how’s the herd?”

  He touched his lips to her forehead. “Still there, soaked and not happy about it, but they’re there.”

  She nodded, her chin digging into his chest. “And the h-horses?”

  “About the same, Lizzie. Don’t go worrying over them. They’ll be fine.”

  “They h-have to be-e.”

  She was determined to see this cattle drive through. He couldn’t fault her concern. Everything she had—her life, her grandfather’s life—was tied to that herd. If given a choice, she wouldn’t hesitate to do this all over again, if need be, to ensure her future.

  Chance took the brunt of the storm, letting it hit him fully. He made sure Lizzie was as protected as possible. The rain hit his hat and flowed onto the brim then streamed down to the ground like a waterfall. He made sure to angle his body in such a way that nothing wet touched Lizzie.

  But him.

  Problem was that with her lithe body plastered to him real tight, her small breasts crushed his chest and her hips dug into his legs. Chance wasn’t a damn saint and Lizzie wasn’t a child. No, sir. She wasn’t. This cattle drive proved that better than any amount of frills and lace and female airs of coyness. And having her so close, nestled in his arms, her body pressed between his spread legs, it was difficult to remember who Lizzie was and why the hell he couldn’t touch her.

  For the most part, they didn’t like each other, he reminded himself.

  Finally, the rain stopped and Chance was never so grateful for weather to let up in his entire life.

  He set Lizzie away from him and held her steady by the arms. Her eyes lifted to his and she glanced at his mouth as awareness flickered in her eyes. He hadn’t fooled her. Hell, what did she expect? He’d been rubbing her body, feeling everything female about her and of course, he’d reacted. Rain didn’t make a man less a man. But then, how would Lizzie know that?

  Her long curls were soaked, coming free of the braid she wore. Her face was ashen; the exhaustion on her face earlier was nothing compared to how she looked right now. And still, she shivered.

  Uncontrollably.

  “Are you all right?”

  She hugged herself around her middle, her teeth clanking against each other. “I w-will be. Soon as I get w-warm.”

  How was that going to happen? It was black as pitch, cold as ice and wet as a rushing river. Lizzie was bushed. And he didn’t know how long he could go on holding her upright.

  “Lizzie, take off your clothes.”

  She swallowed and looked at him like he was crazy. “What?”

  “You have to get out of your wet clothes.”

  “No.”

  Chance sighed and instead of getting mad—Lizzie was forever trying his patience—he reasoned with her. “Lizzie, listen to me. You’re frozen solid. You’re going to get deathly sick if you don’t do as I say. I’m going to try to light a fire, but it probably won’t work. We can either stand here all night or lie down and attempt to get some rest.”

  “But everything’s w-wet. We’ll be s-soaked.”

  “We’re soaked now. I’ll keep you warm and in the morning, we’ll dry out our clothes and move on. But it’s the middle of the night, Lizzie. And if you stay wet in those clothes…”

  “But, you’ll be w-wet, too.” She shivered again.

  He winced realizing he had to enlighten her as to how this would work. “I’ll be taking my clothes off, too.”

  Lizzie’s face was close and through the dimmest light he saw her flinch. She breathed out so quietly, he would barely hear her but for the silence surrounding them. “We’ll be lying together. Naked.”

  The image slammed into his head and he recalled the soft small buds of Lizzie’s breasts pressing through his clothes. The scoundrel in him remembered her hips grinding into his groin and how good it felt. Chance swore silently. Was he a fool to suggest this? It’d been months since he’d lain with a woman. “Not entirely. You decide what’s�
�what’s necessary to stay on. But Lizzie, I’m responsible for you. And I can’t—”

  A cold breeze blew by, evidence of the wicked wind to come, and it seemed enough to convince her. “I’ll do it.”

  “Fine,” he said, wishing there was some other way and thinking this wasn’t fine at all.

  Chance made an assessment of the land he could see in the darkness. The herd had settled and the horses were doing the best they could under the circumstances. He spotted an area away from the trees that would catch the first light of morning and laid the blanket down there. “Come on over here, Lizzie.”

  The clouds separated and moonlight filtered down, a slender streak of light that gave a measure of illumination.

  Chance could see her better now. She wasn’t moving at all, but staring at the blanket they would share. Biting her lips, she might have drawn blood from the intense look on her face. The wind howled and nearly blew her down as it whipped by, little as she was. She righted her footing and let out a curse. “Damnation!”

  Chance held his tongue in check and watched as she lowered her body down into a crouch, protecting herself from another blast of air. She approached the blanket and when she reached him, a scowl covered her face. “Turn around.”

  He thought her modesty foolish. Soon they would be lying together, their bodies touching intimately, and they were going to feel everything they had to feel. But this one time, he did Lizzie’s bidding. He turned his back and let her have her pride. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  He heard rustling and more oaths shed from her mouth as she fumbled with her clothes. She didn’t have too much to remove, no fancy buttons to unfasten or layers of petticoats that needed to come off one at a time. All she wore tonight was a rain slicker over a jacket, and her riding clothes. What she wore underneath it all, though, was a mystery to him. But he had a feeling he was going to find out right now.

  After a few more seconds, she said, “I’m under the b-blankets. And I’m s-still c-cold.”

  “I’ll be right there,” he said. He took off his gun belt and removed everything he wore down to his long johns. Those he unbuttoned, then removed his arms from the sleeves, allowing the wet half of them to dangle from his waist. The more skin-to-skin contact, the faster Lizzie would warm up.