A Cowboy Worth Claiming (16 page)

She wouldn’t make it easy, but he was determined to see this through.

Joyful shuffled in the background. She was restless. They’d have to hit the road soon. They’d get back to the Mitchell ranch before nightfall. Lizzie would have her own bed to sleep in and Chance might even get more than a few hours of rest himself.

Sleep was something he’d learned early on to live without. In the orphanage, he’d often wake at night from frightful dreams. They had haunted him as a young boy. His mother’s screams. His father’s grunts as he tried to protect his family. The helplessness he’d felt from that one night had stayed with him all these years. He’d been a little boy, too young to really understand the evil that entered the Worth homestead that day. But his shocking dreams reminded him time and again.

Lizzie made a little growling sound of protest before lifting her head several inches from his chest. She seemed a little dazed at first as she registered her surroundings. With furrowed brows she angled her head toward his face. Inky dark hair fell full around her head, those bluer-than-blue eyes, hazy from sleep, captured his attention and her rosy bowed lips nearly touched his. She smiled and Chance remained still. What he wouldn’t give to wake her out of her melancholy mood with a morning kiss. If he allowed himself the indulgence, he could teach Lizzie so many things.

“Morning, Chance,” she whispered sweetly, gazing up at him. Lizzie didn’t know the temptation she posed to him, he was certain, but she had a way of looking at him that puffed his chest and made him glad he was a man.

Last night he’d fought a battle of demons as he stood watch over her, recalling the sweet taste of her giving mouth when he’d kissed her. He remembered how her innocent gasps of pleasure had spurred his desire. He relived touching the soft mounds of her bosom and the powerful jolt it awarded him. She was slight, but full in his hands, enough of a woman to satisfy him. He had itched to touch her bare skin, to caress her without barriers. She’d responded to him with trust and passion. She would have done his bidding no matter what he asked of her.

Knowing that she would give herself to him without question filled his head with notions of claiming her, of stripping off her clothes and burying himself deep inside her body. His manhood stiffened as he played it out in his wicked mind. He’d make it good for her and bring her a woman’s pleasure. The more he’d tried to banish those heady thoughts, the more his body ached for want of her.

Only the reminder of his debt to Edward had saved him. It was like a splash of icy river water to the face. That man trusted him with his granddaughter. He’d not given him one warning in regards to Lizzie’s reputation. Edward had more faith in him than he’d had in himself. It was a sobering thought.

He dropped his hand from around her shoulder and sat up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. The movement gave her no choice but to scoot out of his way.

From his stretch, he slid her a sideways glance. “Mornin’.”

Disappointed, she looked at him as if he’d kicked her in the gut.

“You ready to head out?”

It was the last day he’d have to spend with her in such close quarters. Once back on the ranch, he’d take to sleeping in the dilapidated bunkhouse again. It would prove a helluva lot less dangerous than sleeping beside her every night and fighting off the uncanny temptation he hadn’t seen coming.

She drew in a breath and released it slowly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t you worry. Things’ll work out.”

Lizzie stared into his eyes. “You didn’t paint such a rosy picture last night.”

“My life isn’t a fairy tale, Lizzie. I told you that already.”

He’d shared his most honest feelings with her last night. She’d listened, but Lizzie couldn’t contain her questions, even though she’d promised to. She’d asked question after question, and Chance hadn’t minded answering them as much as he thought he would. He didn’t know why it was, but revealing his life to her had lifted his spirit. He’d told her things he’d never told another living soul and the weight lifted made him feel lighter than air last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it. Maybe he should have held back as he was wont to do, because now Lizzie looked at him with a new glint in her pretty eyes.

“I’m sorry for it, Chance.”

He shrugged and rose from the blanket. Standing, he gave her a shrug. “Just told you so you’d sleep. You weren’t gonna settle down otherwise.”

Lizzie’s lips lifted just a little. “Still, I’m glad you told me about your folks and your time at the orphanage and how you got taken in by Mr. Dunston. He wasn’t a very nice man.”

“I survived it all, so don’t pity me, Lizzie.”

“I don’t pity you,” she said, quietly, gazing at him with a gleam in her eye. “I…I admire you.”

With a shake of his head, he blew out a breath. “Well, don’t. I’m not all that admirable.”

“You’ve saved my hide a time or two. How can I not admire that?”

“I had to.” Chance picked up his gun belt and fastened it around his hips. It sat low on his waist and felt right being there. It was a part of him and he wasn’t proud of it. He’d had to defend his life too many times to count. He’d shot men before. He’d brutalized them with his fists when he had to. There wasn’t anything admirable in that.

Lizzie’s face fell and she looked down at the ground for a moment. “Because you owed my grandfather a debt?” Her voice was small as if the answer would pound her already beaten spirit into the ground.

Chance should let her go on believing that. It would make dealing with Lizzie easier. But her heart was already broken and he had no illusions about what she faced when they returned to the Mitchell spread. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you, Lizzie. Just accept that as fact.”

She gazed at him from her seat on the blanket, a question tearing from her throat. “What if you’re the one hurting me the most?”

Ah, hell. It was just like Lizzie to confuse his actions. His brows gathered and he formed his words carefully so as not to injure her pride. “It’s not my intent.”

They stared at each other for a time. Chance wouldn’t go soft on her. She had a future waiting, one that he would see to the end, and one that didn’t include him. He pointed to the blankets. “Roll them up and let’s get going after breakfast. We don’t have time to waste.”

Chapter Eleven

L
izzie walked beside Joyful onto Mitchell land as the sun began its descent behind the Red Ridge Mountains. In years past, upon her return home after a trail drive, she’d jump down from her horse to race up the steps, homesick in that very moment and needing to find all things familiar inside the house. But there’d be no racing today. There’d be no joy in familiar surroundings. Today, her heart bled with disappointment and failure as she ambled toward the house to give her grandfather the bad news.

Chance dismounted and ground tethered Joyful, then put his hand to Lizzie’s back as they climbed the steps and entered the house together. The instant she walked inside, her heart dipped with dread. The curtains were pulled closed, shutting out light, and an eerie silence filled the house in the darkness.

“Grandpa?”

Chance’s spurs jangled as they moved farther inside the room. “Edward?”

Lizzie glanced at Chance. His pulse ticked on the side of his jaw.

“In here,” Grandpa called out.

The strain in his voice gave her a start.

She dashed to his bedroom and gasped when she saw him lying across his bed, as ashen as the pale hair on his head. She rushed to his side and kneeled by the bed. He managed a smile for her and shakily reached for her hand. She grabbed his hand with both of hers and cried inside for the frailty she found in his grip.

“I’m glad to see you, my girl.”

“Oh, Grandpa.” Lizzie kissed his hand, holding back tears as an ache began in the pit of her stomach. Her grandpa watched her, as if he couldn’t believe she was there.

“I love you, Elizabeth.”

She bit down on her lip and gasped. The words tumbled from her mouth. “I love you, too.”

She couldn’t take her eyes from his face. He looked so weak she thought he’d vanish into the air.

“You got the herd sold off?” he asked with a strain in his voice. “All…went well, then?”

Lizzie squeezed her eyes closed. Above her, Chance’s voice carried in the quiet room. “Yes, Edward. We’ve sold off the herd. All is well.”

Lizzie shot him a quick look. He gazed down at her, giving a silent warning not to contradict his purposeful lie.

“That’s g-good.” Grandpa coughed for a moment and even the violence of the coughs had mellowed to bare stolen breaths. He whispered to Chance, “Appreciate all you’ve done, boy.”

Chance took a swallow and nodded. “You got nothing to worry over, Edward.”

Grandpa closed his eyes. “That’s…all I need to hear.”

“Grandpa!” Panic swam in her belly and she turned to Chance.

Chance whispered to her. “Let him sleep, Lizzie.”

Lizzie turned to her grandfather. He’d fallen asleep, his breaths shallow but his body restful. She didn’t want to leave him, but before she could protest, Chance lifted her from her kneeling position. Her legs quaked as she stood. From behind, he braced her shoulders, steadying her, and spoke quietly in her ear. “I need to talk to you.”

He guided her out of the room. She went reluctantly, keeping her eyes on her grandpa as she walked away.

Outside his door, Lizzie’s tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks. “He’s so weak.”

“Yeah, he is.” Chance’s face pulled into a frown. He sighed with regret and she could see how shaken he was, too. “I’ll go into town and get the doctor.”

She searched his eyes. “We lied to him.” The accusation was aimed at herself, as well. She hadn’t the courage to tell her grandfather the truth.

“No, we didn’t,” Chance said. “We sold the herd. And all will be well.”

She shook her head back and forth, the long tail of her braid whipping from shoulder to shoulder. “Nothing’s right. Nothing. How can all be well?”

Chance wiped tears from her eyes, collecting each drop with a fingertip. “Listen to me, Lizzie. You got nothing to worry over. I’m going into town and when I come back, we’ll show Edward the money. It’ll ease his mind.”

“W-what money? You g-gonna rob the bank?” She sniffed. Had Chance gone delusional?

Chance inhaled deeply and looked her straight in the eyes, his voice firm as granite. “I’m selling the ruby necklace.”

“No! You can’t. You can’t. It’s all you’ve got left of your mother’s memory.”

Lizzie wouldn’t let him do it. He couldn’t possibly make such a sacrifice for her. Chance had nearly lost his life preserving that necklace. It was all he had of his family.

“You got no say in what I do, Lizzie. Much as you think otherwise. You need that money more than I need to hold on to the necklace. I made Edward a promise and I aim to see it through.”

“Not with that, Chance. Not with that.”

“Listen to me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your grandfather. That’s the plain truth. Now I’m going to fetch the doctor. If there’s a chance to save Edward any pain, we’re going to take it.”

Lizzie’s world was crashing down around her. She was lost and aching so badly, she thought her heart would shatter.

Chance softened his voice. “You can stay with him. Watch over him. When he wakes, he’d like to see you there.”

“But—”

“Be strong, Lizzie. I know you are. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Chance grabbed her forearms gently and she lifted her eyes to peer deep into his determined brown eyes. “Do as I say. It’s gonna be all right.”

Lizzie had no choice. She knew that once he set his mind on something, he wouldn’t back down. Everything inside her went slack and she didn’t have the will to protest. She nodded and watched him open the curtains to bring the last of the day’s light into the room. Then he walked over to her mother’s sideboard and opened the bottom drawer. He grabbed the wooden box engraved with the Worth
W
and lifted the lid. His gaze lingered on the jewel for a stretched-out moment, then he sighed, deep in thought. He caught her attention, his gaze intense. “Good thing I left it here or it might have been stolen, too. Maybe this was the true purpose for Edward to store this for me all these years. “

Lizzie didn’t believe so. That necklace belonged to Chance. It was his legacy, but she couldn’t make him see that. Instead, she watched Chance snap the box closed, walk out of the house and ride off the ranch with the promise to return with the doctor.

* * *

Chance kept the ruby necklace tucked inside his vest as he rode the few short miles into town. The sun had set, but there was enough moonlight to guide his way down the road toward Red Ridge. Joyful was tired, and normally he wouldn’t push her. But this wasn’t a normal situation. This was a mission to help Edward one last time. Chance had no illusion that Edward would recover, but he sure as hell wanted to keep the man from any more misery and pain.

As he entered town, he asked the first person he saw on the street—a rotund man wearing a hat and walking with a cane—where he could find the doctor. The man gave him directions and less than fifteen minutes later Chance met with Dr. Finnigan Jones at his home, introducing himself as the Mitchell-ranch foreman.

Dr. Jones nodded his head and kept on nodding when Chance told him about Edward’s ailment. Sadness stole over his features. “I’m aware of Edward’s case. I’m afraid there’s no cure for consumption. All I can do is offer him laudanum to ease his pain. How is his granddaughter holding up?”

“Not too well. He’s all the family she has.”

“Yes, I remember. Lizzie, is it?”

Chance nodded.

The doctor wiped his spectacles with a cloth then examined them in the light before tucking them into his vest pocket. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to convince her that Mr. Mitchell was quite ill and recovery wasn’t likely. Poor girl. She held on to misguided hope. I’ll finish up here and make the trip out to the Mitchells’ within the hour.”

“Appreciate it.”

Somewhat relieved that Edward would get treatment tonight, Chance left the doctor’s home. Now it was time to sell the necklace. In all the towns he’d been to, the wealthiest men were the saloon owners and the bankers. Chance headed for the saloon first with the idea of making a sale and quenching his thirst with a bottle of fine whiskey. He was saddle weary, grimy from the trail and feeling piss-poor in general. A swig or two might lift his sour mood.

Chance entered the saloon and took a look around. The place was half-empty. There was a low hum of conversation. Men and a few saloon girls sat around tables, sipping their drinks. In one corner four men played cards, while in the other, a woman dressed in green satin with a feather in her hair whispered to the piano player.

Chance sidled up to the bar and ordered a bottle of the finest whiskey they had on hand and within seconds, the bottle and the whiskey glass appeared before him. Chance poured himself a shot. Leaning back, he sipped the golden liquor, savoring the slow burn going down his throat.

The woman in green laughed, throwing her head back and for a moment, the barkeep’s eyes gleamed as he watched her.

“Does she sing?” he asked.

The barkeep turned to him for a second. “Like a songbird sent from heaven. Maisey’s got a pure voice.” He went back to staring at her.

“That her husband? The piano player?”

The barkeep shook his head. “Nope, her brother. They’re an act. Been playing here for about a year now. They just live down the road a ways.”

He studied how the bartender watched her. He would make a lousy poker player. His eyes gave him away and Chance saw his opportunity. “You own this saloon?”

The bartender turned to him, his brows gathered into a fine line across his forehead. Once he focused on Chance, his friendly voice took a dubious tone. “I do. You got a complaint?”

“Not a one. Whiskey’s real good.” He lifted his glass in salute.

Tension released from the barkeep’s face. “You’re the man working over at the Mitchell spread, right?”

Chance nodded. He wasn’t surprised that this man knew who he was—strangers in town were always being sized up by the local folk. “I am. Chance Worth.” He put out his hand.

The barkeep walked over and shook his hand. “Nice meetin’ you. John Lancer. I know Edward Mitchell. As decent a man as they come. They’ve hit on some hard times out there.”

“I can’t disagree with you. Fact is, I’m trying to help them.”

“You working for free?”

“Something like that,” Chance admitted. “But they’re cash poor. They need a little boost. Maybe you know of someone wanting this.”

Chance turned his body to hide the jewel from prying eyes and pulled the box from inside his vest. He opened the lid slowly and showed off the gem. “It’s a genuine ruby. Biggest I’ve seen.”

Lancer’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the pear-shaped red ruby. Then he met Chance’s gaze with brows that lifted his forehead. “Where’d you get that?”

“It’s a family stone. Came to me legitimately, if that’s what you’re asking. My mama cherished the gem. Any gal would love having such a fine piece.” Chance swiveled his head toward the woman in green across the room. “Yep, any fine lady sure would love to get this here necklace as a gift. For some special occasion or something.”

Lancer followed the direction of Chance’s gaze to see Maisey step up onto a four-by-four platform. The piano player started in with a lively tune and the gal’s voice broke through the din of noise, garnering everyone’s attention.

Lancer appeared fully captivated, refusing to serve anyone until the song was finished. Chance understood why the man was smitten. Maisey’s soft tender voice could stir even the least saintly of men and bring them to their knees. She mesmerized the audience with an innocence and purity that saloon patrons rarely were privy to. She belonged in a church choir, not a smoke-filled room, and by the look of admiration and pride on his face, Lancer seemed to know it.

Lancer twisted his mouth and sighed. “How much?”

“Two hundred.”

The barkeep stilled and a storm brewed in his eyes. “You got guts, Mr. Worth. I’ll say that.”

“It’s worth double that.” He snapped the box closed and began tucking it away.

“Now, hold on. Hold on,” the barkeep urged. He stole a longing glance at Maisey who was ready to sing her next tune, before leaning close to Chance over the bar. In a lowered voice, he asked, “How about one-fifty and free drinks for a month?”

The idea of free whiskey made him silently smile and though tempting, he shook his head. He needed hard cash. “Not a chance.”

After a few minutes of negotiating, Chance was able to seal the deal for the amount he’d wanted. That cash, along with what he had left of his own money, wouldn’t come to half of what was stolen, but it was enough to keep Lizzie secure for a few years. Now if he found her a husband, his worries would be over.

* * *

Lizzie woke up in a chair beside her grandfather. Stiff from her awkward sleeping position, she pulled her arms up and stretched out the kinks. She rolled her neck back and forth, then hinged her body forward, away from the quilt that did little to add comfort to the ladder-back chair.

Early dawn light streamed through holes in the worn-thin curtains. Morning smells of fresh earth and crisp air brought her out of her sleepy haze. She focused on Grandpa again. Seeing him sleep restfully now gave her new hope.