A Cowboy Worth Claiming. Charlene Sands
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surely didn’t want to drive cattle with Chance Worth. Why, he’d most likely mock her every step of the way and she’d hate every minute of it.
She stirred the stew and sniffled.
“Need some help?”
She whirled around to find Chance leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her. “How long have you been there?”
He moved into the room, ignoring her question. “Your grandpa’s taking a nap.”
He did that, napped several times during the day. She’d find him looking fatigued and the next thing she knew, he’d be on the sofa, head at an awkward angle against the back cushion, sleeping. “He needs rest.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“Well, mercy. I think you and I agree on something.” She rubbed her nose and sniffled again. She didn’t want Chance in the kitchen, hovering. He was too big. And he made her nerves stand on end. “Why don’t you get settled at the bunkhouse? There’s a few beds in there that aren’t—”
“I want to talk to you about the drive.”
She blinked. Then turned her attention to stirring the stew. “What about it?”
“We’ll go day after tomorrow.”
She nodded, lowering her voice. “I suppose if we have to,” she said, though she couldn’t bear the thought of Grandpa being alone for more than a week.
“And you’re gonna listen to me every step of the way. No tantrums, no arguments. We do things my way, Lizzie.” His eyes were hard, his voice gruff. “We need to make good time and I don’t want a female slowing us down.”
She dropped the wooden spoon in the stew and braced her hands on her hips. “My name’s not Lizzie, not to you. It’s Elizabeth. I don’t have tantrums and I won’t slow anybody down. I know more about drives than any other woman in the territory.”
He cocked half a smile, satisfied. “Good. Then you and me shouldn’t have a problem, so long as you realize I’m the trail boss.”
“It’s our herd and our lives at stake. Not yours. If I disagree with you, I’m gonna tell you.”
“You took a broken-down boat out in the lake and nearly got yourself killed. Hardly testimony to your clear thinking and good judgment. And don’t deny it. God knows you’re denying enough about your life.”
She stiffened at his curious remark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He walked toward her, the rowels of his spurs jangling as his boots scraped against the wood floor. He stopped inches from her, his gaze dark and direct. “You want to help your grandfather? Then you go on this drive without any fuss. Don’t make him feel bad. Give him some peace of mind.”
Peace of mind? What was he talking about? She’d done everything she could to help her grandfather. She’d worked all day and into the night to keep the ranch going, earning extra cash whenever she could. Could she help it that she’d rather go on the trail drive with her kin, than with a stranger whose uncouth ways were bound to rile her?
But what if he wasn’t speaking about that? What if he had something else in mind? Her mind reeling, she spoke softly now, suddenly unsure. “What do you mean ‘peace of mind’?”
Chance reached for her face, taking her chin in his large hand and forcing her eyes up to his. A moment ticked by as he studied her, unblinking, his nearness, the intensity of his gaze stirring her senses. They stood that way, facing each other, his grip tight yet gentle and when she thought he’d say what was on his mind, he seemed to think better of it. He released her and backed up. “I think you know, Lizzie.”
She put her head down, refusing to look in his eyes and whispered, “I don’t. I swear I don’t know what you mean at all.”
He sighed and walked away from her. After a time, his footsteps faded and the door squeaked closed behind him. Marching to the window, she pulled aside the curtains and watched him stride into the barn, readying to settle on the ranch and barge into her life.
She wished Grandpa had never sent for him.
It was one of a long list of wishes that Lizzie hadn’t seen come true this year.
* * *
Chance strode into the barn to check on Joyful and retrieve his saddlebags. The sorry sorrel he’d noticed earlier snorted quietly as he walked by. The slight effort seemed laborious for the animal that looked weary and old enough to have seen war days. Wasn’t a wonder why Lizzie chose to walk into town today—the mare wouldn’t have hastened her trip at all.
It was hard to believe that Edward had kept the ranch running this long. Chance was damn glad he showed up when he did, though he wasn’t looking forward to having Lizzie along on the cattle drive. Without a crew and a string of horses to switch out, she’d have to put in long hours and eat her share of dust on the trail. Good thing they only had a hundred miles to travel to the railhead.
Chance wouldn’t let Edward down.
Leastways not with the short trail drive.
Finding Lizzie a husband was another matter.
He approached his mare, muttering, “The old man’s worried over his granddaughter and I’ve got to find her a man.”
Joyful turned to the sound of his voice, her brown eyes on him. Chance stroked her mane, running his hands along the length of the coarse hairs and then gave her a pat as thoughts of Edward’s quickly laid-out plan came to mind. Chance wasn’t too sure it would work. His old friend explained the situation—so far Lizzie had pretty much shooed away any of the would-be suitors that Edward had brought out to the ranch.
Can’t say as he blamed the men from turning tail and running. As much as he’d seen of her, Lizzie lacked female wiles and didn’t have enough charm to entice a stray pup to Sunday supper, much less a would-be husband.
Chance grabbed his saddlebags and bedroll and entered the bunkhouse. Cobwebs crisscrossed the ceiling above his head and a layer of red dust kicked up as he moved into the space, yet the place wouldn’t be the worst he’d lived in. He scanned the six bunks across the far wall deciding one was no better than the other, worn blankets and all, but they were sturdy enough for a man his size. He tossed his gear on the floor, took off his gun belt and sat down on the nearest bunk testing the thin mattress. It was a far cry better than hard ground. He laid his head back, setting his hat low to cover his eyes, and adjusted his body on the bunk, hanging his boots off the edge.
He’d barely had a few minutes of respite before he sensed a presence hovering over him. On instinct, he reached for his six-shooter and cocked it, hinging his body up so fast his hat went flying from his head.
“Oh!” Startled, Lizzie backed up, her eyes trained on the gun.
He glared at her. “What are you doing sneaking up on me?”
Her usual bravado gone, she lowered her voice. “I…wasn’t.”
He set the gun down on the bed. “You weren’t? Funny, but I didn’t hear you knock.”
“The door was open. I came looking for you. Supper’s ready.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When he thought she’d go, she continued to stand there, carefully studying him. “You got something else to say?”
“What are you afraid of, anyway?” she asked, her brows furrowing together. “You grabbed your gun so fast, I thought I was going to meet my maker years before my time.”
“Scared you, did I?”
She paused, her expression tightening. She didn’t like to give in, that much he’d already found out about the Mitchell girl. She raised her chin and nodded.