A Cowboy Worth Claiming

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.