A Cowboy Worth Claiming

by Charlene Sands

  She stayed in the tub for the better part of the hour with eyes closed, allowing herself this special time to simply be. All worries left her mind. She gave in to the pure joy of the soak. Heat and steam. Relaxation and comfort.

  She heard the hotel door creak open. “Who’s there?” Bathwater sloshed out as she scrambled to a sitting position.

  “It’s me, Lizzie.”

  Chance? He’d let himself inside the room?

  “Don’t come in!” Panicked, she held her breath and prayed he’d heed her warning and not come any farther. She grabbed for a towel and listened. His footsteps quieted.

  “You’ve got ten minutes,” he said, from behind the screen. “Be ready or I’m eating without you.”

  “You could’ve knocked.”

  He didn’t answer. She heard the door shut. Her mood soured. Not only had he given her a fright, he’d come for her early.

  She muttered an unholy oath, lifted up from the water and stepped out of the tub. Using the thick towel, she dried off, breathing in the pleasing scent of lilac on her skin. She whipped her hair back and forth then up and down to hasten drying. Her hair was such a nuisance. How often she’d thought of chopping it off, but Grandpa loved her hair this long so Lizzie endured it.

  As she walked past the screen to grab her clothes from the saddlebag, something on the edge of the bed caught her eye. Curious, she walked over to it and stared at the brown paper package tied up with twine. There wasn’t a note. Not that Lizzie needed one. Chance had put it there.

  “What on earth?” She wasted no time unraveling the twine and the wrapping immediately fell away, leaving her to gawk at a pretty cotton dress with lacy sleeves and neckline, the material patterned with tiny blue and white flowers. “Heavens.”

  She pulled the dress up to see its full length and examined the fine detail. Having made miniature clothing for her dolls, Lizzie regarded the perfectly sewn stitches and the form of the dress, which was just the right size for her slender frame. Choking back emotion, tears brimmed over her eyes. She felt moisture trickle down her cheeks and all ill feelings she held for Chance disappeared into the air. Closing her eyes, she hugged the dress to her chest and clung on dearly. This was a kindness she couldn’t doubt or disparage. For all his grouchy ways, Lizzie couldn’t fault Chance for anything at the moment. Warmth filled her heart and she pulled the dress away from her body to look at it once again.

  Giddy with anticipation, she slipped on her undergarments and donned the dress over her head. Setting her arms into the sleeves, she smoothed the rest of the dress over her hips until the hem flowed to the floor. She whirled around to look at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The dress swished in waves before settling on her shape. It was a simple calico, made of spun cotton, yet Lizzie felt pretty wearing it. Well, as pretty as she could feel, being Lizzie Mitchell.

  Her mama used to say a smile could brighten even the darkest of days. And far too often lately, Lizzie felt dark and desolate inside. She’d felt as if her life was slipping away with no hope in sight. The feelings overwhelmed her at times. The dress and the thought behind it gave her a smidgen of that hope back. Maybe circumstances would get better at the ranch. Maybe Grandpa would recover and life would get back to normal.

  Her lips lifted. Then a full-fledged happy smile broke through and suddenly Lizzie felt light as a feather. She smiled and smiled and you’d think she would’ve drifted heavenward as weightless as she felt.

  Coming back down to earth, she remembered the time and hurried the rest of her grooming. She combed fingers through her hair, threading the damp strands back and using twine left from the package to tie a bow. With no time to braid her hair, she left it loose and slipped her feet into boots she’d taken a moment to rub clean. She was grateful the dress had ample length to cover them.

  This time when Chance knocked on the door Lizzie was ready for him. She opened the door, her face beaming, and her first thought was how handsome he looked. Clean shaven—she’d almost forgotten what he looked like without dark stubble on his face—and wearing a new red shirt, he stole the very breath from her lungs.

  Chance looked her up and down for second or two, and then nodded. “Thought so.”

  Baffled, she stared at him. She hadn’t expected claims to her beauty or his undying love, but this greeting wiped the smile from her lips. She angled her head. “Pardon?”

  “The dress matches your eyes.”

  On the trail, he’d told her she had pretty eyes. Had he picked the dress to match her eyes? Her pulse raced at the thought of him being considerate.

  “It’s, uh…. It’s a fine dress.” Her throat could barely work now. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  “I’ll find a way to repay you.”

  He spared her an impatient glance. “No need.”

  “It was a very kind gesture, Chance. I appreciate—”

  “Don’t go appreciating me too much,” he said quietly. “Nothing in your saddlebag was fitting for the hotel’s dining room. Besides, those dingy colors you wear all the time are downright depressing.”

  She struggled to keep her mouth from gaping open.

  “You hungry?” he asked, taking her elbow and leading her out the doorway. He made sure her door was locked. “I’m starved. You won’t be disappointed in the meal.”

  Her shoulders slumped and what was left of her good cheer melted away. That weightless feeling that lifted her up moments ago plummeted like an iron anchor tossed into the sea. “No, I, uh, I don’t suppose I will be.”

  Her disappointment wouldn’t have anything to do with the food tonight.

  Chance had managed to dishearten her all on his own.

  * * *

  Chance tried his best to ignore Lizzie sitting across from him in the hotel dining room. He called himself ten times a fool for giving her that dress to wear. For putting a big, brilliant smile on her face and worse yet, putting hope into her heart. He didn’t like the way she’d been looking at him when she opened the door. Lizzie wasn’t a doe-eyed female with ulterior intentions like Marissa, Alistair’s stepdaughter. That girl had been pursuing him since the minute she’d laid eyes on him, back at the Duncan spread. No, Lizzie wasn’t manipulative in that way yet she could cause him just as much trouble with those blue-as-sky eyes and that soft look on her face.

  Chance wasn’t courting her. No, sir.

  She was his job. His debt to pay a man for saving his life and he was glad to do it for Edward.

  When they’d ridden into town today he’d caught sight of the dress shop and the impulse struck him to do something for Lizzie. Wasn’t much at all. Just a dress. He’d seen the extent of her wardrobe, and none of the clothes were fitting for a fancy meal in a fine hotel. Hell, the girl was probably headed for a rough road ahead, with her only kin dying right before her eyes and her argumentative nature giving little hope for landing herself a husband.

  The end of the trail always put fool ideas into his head. Like the time he’d bet Morey Dunphy that he could outlast him in a drinking contest. Or the time he’d kissed his week’s pay goodbye on a horse race. Then there was the time he’d been dared to tame a wild stallion and nearly broke his neck doing it.

  Yep, gifting Lizzie Mitchell a pretty blue dress that made her eyes look like two sapphire gems, well, that was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever done at the end of a trail drive.

  She was quiet now, not saying much, pushing food around on her delicately patterned plate. Overhead, a twelve-candle chandelier flickered, casting the table in a soft glow. In truth, even with Chance in his just-bought red shirt and trousers and Lizzie in her calico dress, they were under-adorned for such surroundings. But he knew the food was top caliber and his stomach won out over any sense of decorum. Besides, Lizzie, for some odd reason, seemed to lo
ok just right in this place.

  “The steak’s pretty good,” he said, annoyed by the silence.

  “Hmm. Delicious.”

  “How would you know, you haven’t taken a bite yet?”

  “Surprised you noticed.”

  She had her head down with a pout on her lips.

  “I notice things, Lizzie.”

  She refused to meet his eyes.

  “You had two bites of the corn dumplings. And you buttered your bread.”

  She snapped her head up and he was struck again by the beauty of her eyes. He should be used to seeing those eyes landing on him by now, but the hue of the dress made them look an even brighter and deeper blue, like the depths of a rushing river. Chance flinched from the shock.

  “Why’d you do it, Chance? Spend money on me and give me a new dress?”

  Ah, hell. He should’ve been happy with her silence.

  “I told you why,” he answered with a shrug.

  “Because you think I’m a poor excuse for a woman?”

  “No. I told you.” He held on to his patience. Lizzie needed her feathers soothed. “I saw the dress in the shop and thought you might find use for it tonight.”

  “Because you find my clothes sorely lacking?”

  Yes. He deliberately didn’t answer. He wouldn’t let her goad him into a fight.

  “You know I can’t afford fine clothes, Chance,” she said, color rising to her cheeks. Her anger only made her eyes appear more vivid. “If I could and things were better, I wouldn’t be on the trail with the likes of you.”

  Her insult didn’t do him injury. “Exactly my point. I thought you’d find good use for a new dress.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. Her voice was hot with accusation. “I don’t rightly care that my clothes depress you.”

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. This was a female trap. Chance recognized it from years of dealing with women. She said she didn’t care, but everything else about her said she did. You’d have thought he’d tarred and feathered her instead of done something nice.

  “You look pretty tonight, Lizzie. Is that what you want me to say? With your eyes so brilliant and your hair clean and curly, falling down your back, you’re the prettiest thing in this fancy room. There’s two men over there at the corner table looking at you and I swear, if they stare one more minute, I’m gonna have to get up from my seat and make them put their eyes back in their heads. There now, I said it. Satisfied?”

  Chance blinked and mentally cursed himself for being a fool.

  Lizzie blinked, too, stunned by his outburst. The crystal water glass she held froze in midair as she darted a glance at the two men in the corner. She noted them indeed watching her. She turned back to him in true astonishment. The strong pull of her eyes sucked him in and he got lost in them. They stared at each other for a long time.

  Then a wide smile spread across her face. “Really? You’d do that?”

  Chance frowned, unhappy that he’d spoken the truth. At any other time Lizzie’s smile could infect him but tonight, he couldn’t afford the luxury of letting her get too close. He’d been alone with her on the trail and it hadn’t been as easy as he’d hoped to keep his thoughts pure. “Forget it.”

  Lizzie set down her crystal water glass with infinite care and looked him square in the eyes. She spoke on a whispered breath. “If I live to be ninety, I’ll never forget you said that.”

  Chance stared at her. His mouth was creased tight. He shook his head at his own calamity, but Lizzie didn’t seem to notice. Her mood brightened and from then on, she chattered incessantly. He didn’t know the girl had so much to talk about, but she filled his ear until it was time for dessert.

  Lizzie ordered tea cakes and hot cocoa, claiming she’d never had either before. Chance had vastly more experience with desserts than Lizzie, but his tastes never strayed far from cherry pie or apple cobbler. Tonight he chose the pie with a dollop of cream.

  Afterward, Lizzie said, “I’m so full I swear I won’t eat another bite for days.”

  “Seems I’ve heard that somewhere before.” Chance grabbed his dainty coffee cup and swallowed down the contents in one hearty gulp.

  “This time I truly mean it. Everything was delicious, Chance.”

  Lizzie had that look in her eye again. A warning shiver ran up and down his body. “You want to turn in? It’s getting late.”

  “I suppose.” Lizzie sighed and leaned back, rolling her shoulders and stretching her body like a contented cat. Her chin came up to expose the slender recesses of her throat.

  Chance swallowed and looked away. Unfortunately he met the gaze of the two men still gawking at Lizzie. Blood boiling, he sent them a cold glare and rose from his seat, keeping his eyes trained on them as he set his hat on his head. They had the good sense to change the focus of their attention. He tossed cash down on the table and then took Lizzie’s elbow, helping her rise. He escorted her out of the dining room. “I’m in need of a drink.”

  “But we just had—”

  “Not that kind of a drink, Lizzie. If I deposit you in your room, I need your promise you’ll stay put all night.”

  Her arm tensed under his hand. “You’re locking me away?”

  “Keeping you safe.”

  She pulled her elbow out of his grip with a yank. Her eyes sparked with blue fire. “You’re going to the saloon?”

  It wasn’t any of her concern what he did the rest of the night. Chance kept on walking until he reached the carpeted staircase in the lobby. “That’s what men do at the end of a drive.”

  Lizzie was a step behind. Quickly, she caught up. “I… What about what women do at the end of a drive?”

  Chance wasn’t in the mood for her petulance. He was attracted to her, which baffled him to no end. Seeing two suited men with bowler hats show her some interest knocked something loose inside that gnawed at him. “I don’t rightly know, I’ve never been on a drive with a gal. I suppose they go to their rooms and sleep.”

  “I’m not promising you that I will.”

  Those same two men who’d been staring at her, walked past and Lizzie turned her head with an upturned chin to smile at them.

  Blood pounded in his skull at her stupidity. She’d defied him deliberately. He circled his hands around her arms and brought her up close. They were almost nose to nose. Her eyes grew wide. He lowered his voice to a rasp wrought with warning. “Don’t be a fool, Lizzie. You’re in a strange town. You don’t know what the night will bring.”

  The fire in Lizzie’s eyes died and her body went limp. She gazed at him and spoke with a plea in her voice. “I could say the same to you, Chance. You’re a stranger here. What if…what if…” Her voice trailed off and a fearful look stole over her expression.

  The scent of lilac filled his nostrils, calming his temper some. She had a look on her face now that beckoned his protective urges. What was she saying? That she cared about him and worried over him? No one had cared for his safety in a long time. Actually, the last person to do so was her grandfather.

  His hands fell away and he took a step back. He couldn’t go soft on her. She had enough to lose already and he was trying to protect her from more harm. The saloon enticed him with mind-numbing whiskey and the attentions of a saloon girl who wasn’t an innocent, a woman who could satisfy his lust enough to keep his impure thoughts of Lizzie at bay.

  “You doubt I can take care of myself?”

  She shook her head without much commitment. “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?” He folded his arms across his chest and waited for her explanation.

  Her face flamed and she struggled, but finally she said her piece. “I don’t want you to…to…to lie with a woman tonight.”

  Chance inhaled sh
arp. Sometimes, Lizzie truly amazed him. Only Lizzie would be so honest. Only Lizzie would shed her pride to admit something like that.

  “That’s what you were gonna do,” she said, searching his eyes now.

  Chance wouldn’t deny it, but he wouldn’t speak the words, either. He, too, didn’t know what the night would bring. He stared at his boots, trying to choose the right words. “Lizzie, you and me…you can’t go thinking…”

  “I…don’t. But you gifted me the dress and then we had a fine meal.”

  “We halfway argued through it.”

  “Seems to be what we do,” she said. Sometimes, Lizzie made a world of sense. “Tonight, I forgot about my troubles, Chance. It was kinda nice.”

  He snapped his head up to find eyes filled with both hope and desperation. He couldn’t rightly ignore her plea. “I’ll make you a deal. You go on up to your room. And I’ll go over to the saloon for a drink. Only a drink. I’ll knock on your door to let you know I’m back.”

  She sent him the small sweet smile she usually reserved for her grandfather. It shot his lust for a saloon girl to hell. He turned her toward the stairs and put a hand to her lower back. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the room.”

  They climbed the stairs together and he put the key into the lock then pushed the door open. She entered and turned to face him with those bluer-than-blue eyes, looking pretty enough to make him forget his good sense.

  “Lock your door, Lizzie,” he ordered, reaching for the doorknob. The door whispered shut with his pull, blocking out her image. From behind the door, Lizzie turned the lock and Chance tried it once to make sure it was secure. Then he whipped off his hat, scrubbed his forehead and the headache developing there, figuring he’d not only earned himself a shot of whiskey, he deserved the whole dang bottle.