“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.
The doctor had brought medicine to ease his pain last night and her grandfather had had a good night. She knew once he woke, he’d feel a lot better. Now that she was back home, she’d see to his recovery and though she hated the thought of Chance selling his precious family gem, the money would go a long way in easing her grandfather’s burden. He would finally have some peace of mind and the lack of worry would aid in his healing.
She was sure.
The door opened with a creak and she saw Chance standing there. He hadn’t shaved since Prescott and the stubble looked scratchy on his face. His hair was overly long, brushing his collar. He gestured for her to come to him and she rose, noting that despite his lack of grooming, he was handsome enough to make her skin tingle. He’d slept in the bunkhouse last night after returning from town. It was the first night in days that they’d slept apart. Though her purpose was clear, to see to her grandpa’s needs, Lizzie had to admit she missed sleeping beside Chance last night.
She gave her grandfather a quick examining glance before tiptoeing out of the room. She followed Chance to the kitchen where the delicious scent of hot coffee wafted to her nostrils.
“How is he this morning?” Chance asked, pouring them each a cup from the coffeepot.
“He slept peacefully all night. The laudanum is working.”
“Good,” Chance said, then lifted the mug to his mouth for a sip. “Edward deserves to be out of pain.”
Lizzie took her cup into her hands and the heat warmed her. “I think he’s going to be fine in a little while. He just needs rest like he got last night.”
Chance winced, his face growing tight. “Lizzie.” Slowly, seeming to muster patience, he set his cup down on the table and turned to meet her eyes solidly. “That’s not what the doctor said. You gotta face facts. Edward is very ill.”
“Chance, don’t you go preaching doom to me. Don’t. Once he sees the cash and knows we’re gonna survive this bad spell, his spirits will lift.”
Chance stared at her such a long time, her heart nearly stopped. She didn’t want to hear what he was about to say. The debate flashed in and out of his eyes, until finally he sighed. “You need to eat. Sit down. I’ll fry up some eggs.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll eat. Those eggs are going down into your gullet one way or another. I’m not about to watch you faint dead away.”
Lizzie didn’t fight him. She didn’t have an appetite, but he was right about sustaining her health. She needed to eat. She plopped down onto the chair and they ate eggs and drank coffee in silence.
Chance walked outside to see to Joyful. After a time, Lizzie heard hammering out by the bunkhouse. Chance was making some sort of repair. The notion of fixing up the ranch ran through her mind and brought her a measure of joy. She finished cleaning up the kitchen in a short time, then checked on Grandpa again. She lowered down beside him on the bed and watched him breathe. He looked frail but soon he’d be right as rain. He had to be.
His eyes shuttered open and he actually smiled when he saw her. She took it as a good sign. “Lizzie,” he said, his voice quietly calm. “Open the curtains, girl. I want to see you in the light.”
Lizzie did as he asked and stole a glance out the window. She watched Chance working on the bunkhouse door for a moment and then turned with a big smile for her grandfather. “Good morning, Grandpa.”
He lifted his head from the pillow and the effort seemed to sap most of his strength. “Mornin’, dear girl.” His gaze raked over the room. “Where’s Chance?”
Before Lizzie could answ
er, he rasped in a soft voice, “Will you go get him?”
“Surely, Grandpa. I’ll be right back.”
Lizzie called for Chance from the doorway then returned to the bedroom. “He’ll be right in. Grandpa, he made a good deal with the cattle buyers.” Lizzie pulled out the stack of bills from the bedside drawer. She took a breath, praying for forgiveness from the Lord for lying, and once again, thanking Chance for his sacrifice. “We got us enough to build the herd again. Just look at all this cash. You and me, we’ll be all right.”
Chance’s boots scraped the floor as he strode into the room. He sidled up to her and darted a questioning glance from Edward to her. “Mornin’, Edward.”
“Boy.” There was tenderness in the way he called Chance “boy,” as though he was someone who held a special place in his heart. There was no doubt he did, Lizzie had to admit. Though Chance was stubborn as a mule, hard to deal with, bossy, overconfident and just plain rude at times, Lizzie would never forget what he’d done for her family. He owed Grandpa a debt, but many men wouldn’t have honored that debt the way Chance had.
Edward took a moment to gather his strength before he continued. “I got to thank you,” he said, his voice rich with sincerity, “for coming and helping us.”
“I’d do it again, Edward.”
Grandpa’s lips lifted in a smile. He managed a nod, too.
He put out his hand for Lizzie. She grabbed onto it and again was struck by the absolute failing in his grip. He took shallow breaths now. “You’re my beautiful granddaughter and I… I will always love you.”
“I’ll always love you, too, Grandpa.”
“Elizabeth,” he whispered her name.
Lizzie glanced at Chance. His face was hard, but his eyes…his eyes shone with sympathy and sadness. Lizzie’s stomach squeezed tight and panic she couldn’t control rose up, swarming her with terror. She watched Grandpa close his eyes then, softly, easily, giving up to the pain that had consumed him. His breaths stopped soon after and his face…his beautiful, old, sweet face lost expression. His hand dropped loose of hers.
A Cowboy Worth Claiming Page 16