“Oh, no.”
Color quickly drained from his skin. She couldn’t bear to see the life seep from his body. She couldn’t bear to see him so very still. She turned her head away, the pain of seeing him gone forever too much to take.
Tears spilled silently from her eyes. She wept and wept.
Two powerful hands touched her shoulders and turned her around. She fell against Chance, sobbing. He held her firm, like he always did when she needed him. He didn’t shush her, or say anything to make her feel better. Nothing would—the pain in her heart was wicked and sharp and Chance knew. He knew and he let her cry until she didn’t have another drop of moisture left.
“Edward is at peace now,” Chance said, an hour later.
Lizzie nodded, sitting on the sofa, staring soulfully out the window. She hadn’t said a word since her grandfather died. It was as if all the bluster inside was washed clean away, hollowing her out. Her heart hurt. It ached like it never had before.
“He was struggling for months, Lizzie.” Chance’s voice cracked and she looked at him, standing by the window, sipping whiskey. He took a swallow and then walked over to sit down beside her. He took another sip then turned to her. “He loved you something fierce.”
A lump formed in the throat. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to swallow past it. “I…know.”
“He waited until we returned…to let go. He was a remarkable man.”
Lizzie didn’t have any more tears to shed. She nodded, then looked at the bottle he clutched in his hands. “Can I have some of that?”
Chance glanced at the amber bottle with puzzlement, then looked at her, his eyes lit with slight amusement. “You ever tried it?”
She shook her head. “But if there was ever a time, it would be now.” The whiskey would help wipe the pain away. Chance surely thought so. He’d taken several swigs already.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
Chance rose from his seat and retrieved a glass from the sideboard. The tumbler was sized for water or lemonade and when he returned, he poured a splash of liquor that rose an inch high. “Drink it slowly. Might burn when it goes down.”
Lizzie brought the glass to her lips and sipped. The whiskey tasted pleasant at first as she swirled it into her mouth. When she swallowed, a lingering heat scorched her throat on the way down to her belly. That’s when it hit her. The burn lit low and flamed up, building like a budding fire across the prairie. She coughed once and Chance put his hand to her back.
“You alright?”
She caught her breath and nodded. Oddly, the sensation soothed as much as it caused turmoil. She turned to Chance. “It’s strange-tasting.”
He took the glass from her hand. “It’s not for young ladies.”
On instinct, Lizzie reached for the glass again, brushing fingers with Chance, and their eyes met in a lingering stare. She witnessed his pain, though he tried to shield it from her. He would miss Edward Mitchell, as well, of that there was no doubt. They watched each other, with fingers entwined on that tumbler and something changed between them in that moment. She’d experienced many firsts with Chance. He’d been the first man she’d slept with, in that horrible storm. He’d been the first man to kiss her. He’d been the first man to touch her body in ways that should have been wicked, but only made her crave more. He was the first man to share grief with her when someone they’d both loved had passed on.
Now, he was with her as she experienced her first drink of pure alcohol. “You know I’m not that young. I’ll finish it,” she said softly.
With reluctance, Chance released his hold and watched as she took the rest of the liquor into her mouth.
“Sort of eases the pain,” she said after a time.
“Dulls the senses, darlin’.”
“Do you often need your senses dulled?” she asked, looking down at the empty glass in her hands.
“There have been times when I wanted to forget. Yeah, it helps.”
“Did you drink because of a woman?” she asked.
His quiet chuckle filled the room. “Maybe, a time or two.”
“I wonder if a man would ever drink because of me,” she said, a sweeping sense of wistful longing grabbing her. She sighed and stared out the parlor window.
She sensed Chance’s gaze on her. Then he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took another swig. “I’m sure you’ll make some man crazy enough.”
The comment didn’t really sink in. She turned his way. “Chance?”
“Hmm?”
“My head feels muddled. Is that the dulling?” Lizzie swayed toward him on the sofa.
Chance grabbed her shoulders and leaned her back against the cushions. “Yeah, seems to be working overly fast on you. You’re such a little thing.”
“I’m not that little,” she said in protest, but the sound coming out of her mouth was almost breathless.
Next thing she knew she was being lifted from the sofa. She felt light as air, floating, as Chance carried her across the room. Her head met with the soft pillows on her bed, her eyes blurring as she glanced up at Chance. His handsome face appeared twice in her vision. Two Chances. She smiled.
“Take a rest, Lizzie,” he was telling her. “I’ll make arrangements for Edward.”
“You’re not leaving me,” she said, feeling the need for panic, but unable to muster that emotion. Everything seemed so fine right now as she closed her eyes.
“I’ll be back before you wake up, darlin’. I promise.”
Chapter Twelve
Edward deserved a proper burial and Chance made sure he got one. Nearly half the townsfolk came to the hillside that overlooked the Red Ridge Mountains to pay honor and bid farewell to a decent man. One by one, they approached solemnly, climbing up the rise and then making their way down to level land beside the gravesite. The casket lay above ground, ready to be hoisted down after the minister said his piece and prayers were spoken.
Dressed in a dark shirt, trousers and string tie, Chance stood by Lizzie’s side. She looked downright maudlin dressed in black, wearing a dark-ribboned bonnet that covered a severe bun on her head. Today, she looked every bit of her nineteen years. Her face was swollen from tears, her cheeks reddened and those bluer-than-blue eyes, looked so sad.
Chance felt the loss keenly himself. It was as if he’d lost a father all over again. He’d not given a soul his trust after his folks were killed. Even as an orphan, he’d been on guard, protecting himself against feeling any more loss in his life. Then Edward Mitchell came along, saving his life and making him realize he was worthy of fair and honest treatment. Edward had given Chance something powerful in that and he’d always be obliged. But he’d also felt something strong for the older man, a devotion and respect he’d not given anyone else in his adult years.
Lizzie stirred beside him. He turned his head to make sure she was holding up, but found her eyes wide and lit with joy. The look baffled him, until he followed the direction of her gaze and saw Mrs. Finch walking down the hilly rise with a young man beside her, dressed in a fine wool suit. Lizzie dropped the bouquet of wildflowers she held in her hands. She picked up her skirts and hastened toward the two figures, her bonnet falling from her head, held only by the ribbon tied at her throat. She appeared oblivious to anything but getting to them. Once she reached the young man, she barreled straight into his arms.
“Hayden,” she said loud enough for all to hear. “You’re here. You came home.”
“Course I did, Lizzie. I told you I would.” He embraced her lightly out of respect for the solemn occasion, but his quick smile was genuine and all for Lizzie. Then his expression changed. “Just sorry I came home to Mr. Mitchell’s passing. It’s a sad day.”
Chance moved closer to pick up on the conversation. Hayden Finch co
ming home now might be the best thing for Lizzie.
She stepped out of the young man’s arms and nodded her head. “It is, Hayden. The saddest of days. It’s been horrible. My heart is just about broken.”
Mrs. Finch put a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “You dear child. You’ve had to endure this all alone. I had no idea Edward was in such a bad way. You should have told me. I would have come by more often and helped you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Finch. I wasn’t exactly…alone.” Lizzie turned to Chance as he moved into their circle to greet the Finches. Lizzie made quick introductions and they shook hands.
Hayden thanked him for watching out for Lizzie and Mrs. Finch greeted him with a cautious eye. Chance had seen that look before. She was wary of him and thought he posed a threat to her son’s happiness. That much, Chance knew for fact. But her worry was unfounded. Soon, she’d see that.
The minister cleared his throat and called the mourners to cluster closer to the gravesite. Fast-moving gray clouds had appeared and the wind had picked up, putting a bite in the air. Chance stood on one side of Lizzie, while Hayden stood on the other, hats in hand. They bowed their heads and prayed as the minister paid homage to a fine man.
Lizzie made it through the ceremony, sniffling but without a barrage of tears, and Chance was relieved. Her crying cut straight through him and made him want to protect her from anything that would do her harm. It was obligation, he surmised. His vow to Edward that made him react that way.
Most of the mourners walked up to give her their regards before taking their leave. Lizzie stood over the casket long after they were gone. Only Chance and the Finches remained by her side.
Gently, Chance took the batch of wildflowers she clutched out of her hand and set them on top of Edward’s casket. He gave Lizzie a quick smile, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Her eyes were the saddest he’d ever seen. “You ready to go?” he asked quietly.
Lizzie simply stared at the casket and the flowers lying there now. She stood still as stone as if she hadn’t heard him. Chance understood her not wanting to let go. He’d felt that way as a young boy, staring at his parent’s grave markers, clinging to the life he’d once known and fearing what the future held for him without them.
Saying goodbye was difficult. Lizzie was brave and she’d survive though he wished he could make it easier on her. He understood how a body grieved. Time healed yet the loss, no matter how long ago, always left a scar.
“Come on now, Lizzie. Say your last goodbye,” Hayden said quietly.
She glanced at the blond-headed man. He had a pleasant enough face and didn’t have to bend to look into her eyes. He put his arm around her shoulder and brought her close with a slight squeeze, encouraging her. “It’s time to go.”
Lizzie stared at him and when Chance was sure she would protest, she nodded her head and let Hayden guide her away from the gravesite.
Chance’s gut lurched seeing Hayden consoling Lizzie, seeing the trust she had for him, seeing his arms snug around her. Just a few minutes ago, he was thanking all things holy that Hayden had returned home. Edward had hoped Hayden would be the man for Lizzie and that meant Chance would be free of his obligation toward her. If he could trust the look he saw in Hayden’s eyes, Lizzie would soon have a beau, and maybe a husband. So his tightening gut didn’t make a lick of sense.
Chance said a final farewell to Edward with heaviness in his heart then strode up the hill, meeting the three of them at the top. Mrs. Finch stepped forward, her tone formal. “After such a day, Lizzie might find some solace spending time with us. And I’m inviting you, as well, Mr. Worth, to have a meal with us.”
Chance glanced at Lizzie’s hopeful eyes. It was better to let the Finches console her without him in the way. They’d take good care of her. “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Finch. But I’ve got to see to some things for the ranch.” He turned to Lizzie. “I’ll come by for you later.”
Lizzie snapped out of her quiet mood. “But, Chance you have—”
“Sorry you can’t join us,” Mrs. Finch said quickly with an overly polite smile. “Come along now, Lizzie. You must be famished.”
Lizzie began another protest, “But—”
“Like I said, Lizzie,” Chance said firmly, “you go on. Spend some time with the Finches. I’ll come by for you in a few hours.”
The look in her eyes reflected deep disappointment. She stared at him and then with a slump of her shoulders, she sighed wearily. Exhaustion had gotten to her and she was too grief-filled to argue. Chance turned and headed toward town without a look back. It was best this way for both of them, but that notion didn’t prevent his guilt at disappointing her on such a sad day, from slicing clear through him.
* * *
“I’m sorry I didn’t finish the meal, Mrs. Finch.” Lizzie glanced at the fried chicken, dumplings and squash sitting on her plate. Not only hadn’t she finished it, she’d barely taken three bites. The food went down hard and Lizzie had barely tasted anything. She didn’t have the heart to eat.
“It’s fine, dear. You’ll have it later. You’ve been through a great deal, but now that Hayden is back, you won’t feel quite so alone.”
Hayden sat beside her, his plate empty. “Lizzie, things will get better now. I just know they will.”
Lizzie nodded, though she didn’t feel such optimism. She was hollow inside, missing her grandpa overly much. She lifted her gaze to Hayden, finding some comfort in his return. She needed his friendship now more than ever. “I’m glad you’re home. It was a lift to my spirits seeing you today.”
“I just arrived last night, Lizzie. And I have plans. Big plans. When you feel better I’ll tell you about them.”
Lizzie didn’t want to hear his plans. He was going to find a girl and get married. He’d told her a dozen times before he left for Illinois that when he got back to Red Ridge, he’d be ready. Another bout of sadness tore through her heart. How long would he be her friend? Would he abandon her once he found his lady love?
“Hayden is planning on expanding my shop,” Mrs. Finch said, sitting taller in her chair. “He’s got wonderful ideas to build an emporium.”
Hayden glanced at his mother and spoke softly, “Mother, she doesn’t want to hear about it now.”
“No, no… I do. I do, Hayden,” Lizzie said, sending a tentative smile to Mrs. Finch. “Go on, tell me.”
Hayden smiled warmly and began, “We’re going to break down the walls of the millinery and build up the store to more than twice the size. Hats are only a small part of what we’ll sell. Once the emporium is complete, we’ll sell everything from clothing to jellies. We’ll allow some townsfolk to put their wares in our store and we’ll sell them on consignment.”
“Consignment? What’s that?” Lizzie glanced at Mrs. Finch, then back at Hayden. “You sure did learn some big words in Illinois.”
“Lizzie,” Hayden said with such excitement, it reminded her of years past, when they’d race along the lakeshore, the anticipation being nearly as much fun as the race itself. “Well, if you, for example, decided you’d like to put your dolls in our store, we would sell them for you and we’d take a small share in the profits. It’s being done in the East all the time now.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Hayden has a lot of good ideas, Lizzie,” Mrs. Finch repeated. “I’ll take our plates now and bring in dessert.”
Lizzie immediately rose. “I’ll help you.”
Mrs. Finch gestured for her to sit down. “Nonsense, dear. Hayden will help. Won’t you, son?”
“Sure thing, Mother.”
“Lizzie, do you think you can eat a bite or two of peach cobbler?” she asked.
“Oh, uh…yes, Mrs. Finch.” She’d have to force it down, not to offend her. “Thank you.”
An hour later, Lizzie sat
on the back-porch swing with Hayden. She’d always liked the Finch home. It was located just outside the main part of town and had a pretty whitewashed fence and flowers in the garden.
Her stomach ached a bit. She’d managed to eat half the portion of her dessert and it lay like lead at the bottom of her belly. Oddly, the swinging made her feel better, so she leaned back and enjoyed her time with her friend.
They sat in companionable silence for a long while, but Lizzie could do that with Hayden. They could sit, or play games, or talk to each other for hours, and all of it felt right. They’d argue, too, but in the end, Hayden would always give in. Sometimes, that would aggravate her. She liked winning, but only when the fight was hard-won.
Maybe he’d changed, she thought. Maybe he wouldn’t have time for her with his fancy new idea for business. Maybe he’d outgrown their friendship. In her heart, she knew nothing remained the same for long. But she dearly hoped her friendship with Hayden, unusual as it was, wouldn’t be among them. He’d been gone for two years—an eternity to someone like her with scant amount of friends—and she’d counted the days until his return. That is to say until Chance had shown up on the ranch weeks ago, causing havoc and making her question everything she’d held dear.
As much as she’d protested, Chance had made her face facts she didn’t want to face. He’d been upfront and honest with her. With a certain amount of shame, she admitted to herself that she hadn’t pined for Hayden’s return once Chance Worth stepped foot on Mitchell land.
“Oh, no!” Struck by a sudden thought, Lizzie lifted partway from the swing. “Chance doesn’t know where you live.”
Hayden shook his head and reassured her. “No need to worry, Lizzie. He’ll find us. Everyone in town knows where we live.”
She relaxed against the back of the swing. “I guess you’re right. Nothing will stop that man from doing what needs doing.”
Hayden stared at her. “Tell me about him, will you?”
“Chance?”
A Cowboy Worth Claiming Page 17