A Cowboy Worth Claiming

by Charlene Sands

  After making good headway out of town, they set up camp early to rest Joyful. Lizzie sat by the fire, hugging her jacket to her chest. “You would have gone looking for the thief, if it weren’t for me.”

  “I have to get you back to the ranch.” His voice was flat, deliberate as if there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. He’d made a vow to her grandfather and so far, Chance had owned up to his side of the bargain. And he’d protected her with his life. She couldn’t fault him for the robbery. That guilt she saved for herself.

  She ached to see her grandpa again even as she hated facing him with another failure. He was all she had left in the world.

  After they ate a quiet meal, Chance handed her the gun. “Think you can stay awake until dark? I’ll get some shut-eye for a couple of hours then take the night watch.”

  A shiver of panic whispered through her body, but she wouldn’t let Chance see her fear. She wouldn’t think about her attacker tonight. Fear would not keep her down and yet another shiver claimed her nerves. “I’ll do that.”

  He laid out his blanket by the fire, directly next to hers. “Stay by my side.” He forced her to meet his eyes. “You got that?”

  She bobbed her head. There wasn’t a chance in hell Lizzie would stray. She took a swallow. “I got that.”

  She spent the time while he slept listening to every tree branch rustle, every snort Joyful made and every haunting howl of a coyote. She heard it all and jumped every time, the gun at the ready.

  She glanced at Chance as he slept. His hard features seemed softer. His eyes were beautiful, fringed with dark lashes and perfectly arched brows. The angles of his face looked almost boyish as he lent himself to sleep. He snored, but she wouldn’t tease him…well, maybe she would, if the subject came up. But his noisy sleep meant his exhaustion had gotten the better of him. She was equally as tired, with a mental strain that was never far from her thoughts. She continued to sit on the blanket, even as the peace of the sun’s setting made her edgy.

  Darkness descended on the land and Lizzie shivered, not from the cold, but from memories of the night before. Images that she’d been able to keep away in the brightness of the daylight hour, now threatened to fill her mind full as night crept in. Pure evil had a name in Quinn Martin and though she’d most likely go to hell herself for her harsh thoughts, she prayed the man was burning now in the devil’s eternal bonfire.

  It was quiet for a long time. The surrounding silence of the night frightened her. The campfire embers burned low. And except for a smidgen of moonlight, the sky above was as dreary as it was fathomless. It was times like these that Lizzie felt alone in the world and so intensely small, much like a sole sliver of grass amid a vast prairie.

  “Who. Who.”

  She startled at the sound and grabbed up the gun, aiming it at the trees off in the distance. The big hoot owl that hadn’t made a peep in half an hour now was making his presence known. “Who, who, who, who.”

  Lizzie set the gun down by her side, her shoulders sagging. She’d probably get in trouble for not waking Chance, but he slept so soundly beside her that she didn’t have the heart to wake him. Minutes ticked by and Lizzie tried to think of happier times to block out the night sounds.

  “Who, who.”

  She jumped and aimed again.

  A hand came out and gently pried the Colt .45 from her grip. “How many times you gonna shoot that old owl, darlin’?”

  She turned to the voice in the shadows.

  “You’re awake.”

  Chance checked the gun barrel then pinned her with a firm look. “I should throttle you for letting me sleep this long.”

  She cocked her chin, feeling more like her old self than she had for days. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Chance grinned and even through the darkness, she found a disreputable gleam in his eyes. “It’d be something to see.” His gaze drifted to her mouth.

  Lizzie watched him through her lashes, her heartbeats speeding. “You want to kiss me again?” she blurted. She had a terrible way of spitting out exactly what was on her mind.

  Chance twisted his face, making himself look altogether less appealing for half a second. “I didn’t want to kiss you the first time.”

  Lizzie gasped. Chance wouldn’t admit he enjoyed kissing her, but he had. It couldn’t be one-sided, not when her insides had wrapped themselves into a tight knot after that first kiss. “If that’s true, I’d like to be around when you want to kiss me. Mercy, can you just imagine how powerful that would be?”

  Chance did a double take and then swallowed.

  Satisfaction, pure and deep, uncurled in her belly, as she watched him take that notion to heart.

  “You need to sleep, Lizzie. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  He was good at changing the conversation when he didn’t want to face facts.

  “If we push hard, we might make it home before dark,” he added.

  Her shoulders slumped and the fight left her. “And what a homecoming that will be.”

  “You want to see your grandpa, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. I miss him. But, I’m still worried.”

  Chance patted the blanket she sat on, gesturing for her to lie down. “You don’t need to worry. You’ll be safe. I’ll stay up the rest of the night to watch over you.”

  She knew she’d be safe. Chance would protect her with his life. She snuggled in and he helped cover her with the blanket. Turning her body toward him, her eyes closed and she honestly tried to shut off her mind, yet her worries wouldn’t go away. She had no fears about Buford Lang returning, not with Chance on the lookout and the marshal on his trail. Her fears were of the unknown. She’d be returning home, empty-handed, and the future of the Mitchell family looked bleak. She couldn’t figure a way out of this dilemma. All she could do was pray that Lang would be caught and the money would be returned.

  It was a pitiful hope from a girl who had little faith anymore.

  After half an hour of her restlessness, Chance said, “Lizzie, calm down.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Try”

  “I am.” He was so dang infuriating at times. Acting as if she actually wanted to toss and turn the night away.

  “Try harder.”

  “You could help, you know.”

  “How?”

  “You could do me a favor.”

  Chance darted a few glances around the perimeter. “I won’t kiss you good-night, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Don’t be silly, Chance.” She rose up, bringing the blanket with her. “That wouldn’t calm my body at all.”

  Breath blew out of his lungs and his eyes opened wide. He seemed truly surprised by her honesty and a little bit flustered. She thought a reprimand was coming, but Chance’s expression changed when he gazed at her mouth again. Her breath caught in her throat and heat began to build in her belly. Chance noted her interest with a long stare at her lips, and fanciful thoughts entered her head. His gaze lifted to hers. “That much is true, Lizzie. You’d enjoy it and get all worked up again.”

  “And…you’d enjoy it, too.”

  He didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he simply leaned back on his elbows and gazed into the night, his eyes alert to the surroundings. “Ask your favor.”

  Lizzie laid down again, her head pillowed against a saddlebag. She turned toward Chance. “Talk to me. Tell me about your childhood.”

  A frown pulled his lips down. He whispered quietly, “My life’s hardly a bedtime story, Lizzie.”

  “I know. But I want to hear it. It’ll help me to…to fall asleep.”

  His mouth twisted and he eyed her with skepticism.

  “Just for a few minutes… I promise not to ask one question.”


  He shook his head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” And a few owl hoots later, he began recounting his life.

  * * *

  Sometime during the night, Lizzie curved her body around him. She made herself comfortable and snuggled in. Her hair tickled his throat and her head nestled onto his chest. He’d held her with his good arm draped around her shoulder and rubbed her arm as she slept. She was safe and warm underneath the blanket. She still looked more like a child than a woman in her petite form, but Chance didn’t for a minute think there was anything childlike about Lizzie anymore.

  She made a little sound, a rebelling moan against waking. Chance wouldn’t disturb her sleep. The sun had just peeked over the horizon. Soon the warming light would do enough to wake her.

  He surveyed the land as he had all during the night and sighed with regret at how things had turned out. When that depraved bastard had Lizzie tied up, dragging her away, something snapped inside him. His body quaked with rage. There was no way he would let anything happen to her. He’d summoned all of his strength and focused his mind solely on one thing, getting Lizzie to safety. He’d have burned all his fingers off trying to get free, if it meant saving her from that man’s brutal attack. When he’d finally unbound his restraints, he’d found her trapped and helpless, with that worm of a man on top of her, pinning her down. Chance had gone a little crazy and Quinn had fought him hard, but Chance had grown up fighting to survive. He’d had to, and he knew all the tricks. He wouldn’t stop until Quinn Martin met his maker and got his just deserts.

  Regrets stretched over his mind. He wished he could have gone after the bastard who’d run off with the Mitchell money. He wanted to catch that man for Lizzie’s sake. And to repay his debt to Edward. But Lizzie’s safety had been his first concern.

  Lizzie stirred and rubbed her face against his chest. He groaned, willing his body not to take what Lizzie would volunteer so freely. Lizzie had been through an ordeal that would have destroyed most women but she’d forged on. She was safe and he would keep her that way until he could turn her over to the man she would marry.

  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

  Lizzie 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.