“Yes, tell me how he came to work at the ranch.”
Lizzie spent the next thirty minutes explaining how Chance had met her grandfather. She told him everything…well, almost everything. She heeded Chance’s warning not to speak to anyone of the night of the storm when they’d slept under the same blanket nearly naked. And she’d kept the kiss they’d shared from Hayden, as well. But not because she’d promised Chance she’d hold that secret, but because she wanted that memory to be hers and hers alone.
Not even her dear friend Hayden would be privy to the details she held close to her heart.
“Do you like him, Lizzie?”
The question startled her. She sat stiff in her seat and took a big swallow. She glanced at Hayden, who seemed to be genuinely interested in her answer. “I…uh.” What she felt for Chance went deep, but she couldn’t say for certain what those feelings were. There were times she thought she was half in love with him and then there were times when she wished she’d never met him. “He’s helped at the ranch and all.” He’d saved her life a few times, too. “Grandpa thought him a good man.”
“But you don’t?”
“No, I do.” Her revelation shouldn’t surprise her. But it did. When Chance had first come to the ranch, Lizzie had been hell-bent on making him feel out of place. She hated him coming, disrupting her life. But after a time, she’d seen in him what her grandfather had. A man who’d had a tough life and had survived by sheer will and smarts. It left him unable to trust or to open himself up to anyone. But he had honor. That much she knew about him and she admired him for it.
Her brows furrowed as she tried to sort out her feelings in her head, but nothing seemed clear. She turned to her friend. “Hayden, why are you being so nosy about him anyways?”
Hayden drew a quick breath. “Now, Lizzie. You’re not gonna like what I have to say, but I’m just gonna say it. Mother mentioned about the two of you staying alone at the ranch. It’s hardly proper.”
Lizzie bolted upright, her fury overtaking her exhaustion and grief. Fire fueled her indignation as she turned to glare at him on the swing. “What are you saying exactly? Do you want me to give up the ranch and the land? Or maybe you want me to do all the work by myself without anyone’s help? Lord knows, I did my fair share when Grandpa took sick. And so now I’m not allowed to have a ranch foreman, for fear of my reputation being ruined. Well, I don’t have the convenience of choosing, Hayden. I just don’t.”
Hayden rose to his feet and met her gaze straight on with apology in his eyes. “Calm down, Lizzie. I didn’t mean to upset you any more than you are already. Honest. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Well, I’m sick and tired of men trying to protect me.” She flung her arms up in the air. “All of you.”
Hayden gripped her arms, which had gone limp. “Sit down and take a breath.”
She slumped down into her seat and stared straight ahead, when she wanted to march straight out the door.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. Truly.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let Chance hear you say any of this. He wouldn’t take kindly to it. He’s been respectable to me.” She turned to him, her voice gravelly but determined. “Do you think I’d stand for anything else?”
Hayden squeezed his eyes shut. “No, of course not.”
“If people talk, they talk, Hayden. I’ve got a ranch to run.” Or rather to build, with Chance’s help. Once she got the ranch going again, Chance would leave. The thought just added to her distress.
“I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I don’t want us to fight. I never want that.” He gave her a moony-eyed look. “Please forgive me.”
Her temper cooled some. His apology was sincere. She trusted that he only wanted what was best for her and she could never stay mad at him for long. “I’ll forgive you, if you promise not to talk about this again.”
“I promise,” he said quickly.
With a bob of her head, she said, “Then, I do forgive you. Now, tell me about your time away. I want to hear everything.”
An hour later, Lizzie stood with Hayden and Mrs. Finch enjoying the shade of the front porch when Chance rode up in a wagon pulled by Joyful and another sorrel. There was a keen look in his eyes. Immediate excitement stirred in her belly. She let her grief go for a moment and forgot about Hayden’s upsetting comment earlier. Her heart raced wildly as she bid Mrs. Finch and Hayden farewell on the porch steps, thanking them for their kindness.
She strode purposely toward Chance and faced him, hoping she was right in her assumption. “You bought us a wagon?”
Chance nodded and jumped down from the buckboard. “You ready to go home?”
“I am,” she said. She didn’t think anything would pull her out of her sad mood, but this…this was something.
Chance helped her up, holding her hand as she climbed onto the seat. He tipped his hat to the Finches, climbed onto the wagon, took the reins and together they rode off.
* * *
Lizzie ran her hand down Melody’s chestnut mane and whispered good morning to her. You like it here,” she said, “don’t you, girl?” The mare gently shuffled closer, her big round eyes expressive, apparently enjoying the attention from her side of the corral fence.
Lizzie broke a carrot in two and immediately Joyful ambled over from the far side of the perimeter. She shared the carrot with the two mares giving Joyful a loving pat on the shoulder as she chomped on her treat. “Good girl,” she said, grateful Joyful had accepted Melody so easily. Chance said that she would welcome the lively company. Poor Juniper didn’t have much energy anymore. For a ranch the size of hers, there weren’t very many animals. At least there were chickens in the henhouse.
Bringing Melody to the ranch had lifted Lizzie’s spirits some. The past two days had been lonely without Grandpa. Chance wasn’t around much. The day he’d surprised her with Melody and the buckboard wagon, he’d also bought lumber and supplies enough to see to the repairs to the ranch. Most of his day was spent out on the range, repairing fences or replacing the old ones that had fallen down. He worked from sunup to sundown. Lizzie did what she could around the house, her usual chores enough to keep her busy most of the day, but it didn’t stop her heart from aching from her loss.
Nights were the hardest. She’d sit across from Chance at supper and glance at the empty seat at the head of the table. Her heart would ache, but Lizzie fought her sorrow. Having Chance there helped some, though after he’d take his last bite of the meal, he’d dash off to the bunkhouse claiming fatigue.
“Ouch, damn it!”
Chance’s angry voice carried all the way to the corral. She whirled around putting the sun behind her and strode toward the backside of the barn.
“Chance?”
“Ah, hell.”
Lizzie stopped short, seeing blood spurting from Chance’s hand. He was crouched by the barrel in front of a shaving mirror, bare chested with soap on half his face, wielding a long blade in his left hand. Tiny spots of blood dotted his face, too. A gasp escaped her throat as she rushed to his side. “What happened?”
“Lost my grip and nearly sliced my hand open.”
“Let me see.” She grabbed his right wrist gently and turned it palm up. Her stomach pitched at the inch-long slash. His hand was steady, but bleeding like a stuck pig.
She grabbed a small stool and shoved it under him. Punching her finger into his good shoulder, she ordered, “Sit down.” He plopped down. “I’ll be right back.”
She rushed inside the house, making a quick sweep of the supplies she needed.
“You’ve done it good now, haven’t you?” she asked when she returned moments later.
An angry growl rose up in his throat in answer.
“Hold this with your good hand,” she said. Chanc
e balanced a bowl on his lap as she dunked his injured hand inside the clean water. She dunked her hand in, too, and put firm pressure near the wound. The water was cool and would help ease the pain he must be feeling. His hands had barely healed from when he’d warded off her attacker. She hated to see Chance injured again.
The bleeding stopped, thank the good Lord.
Lizzie didn’t release his hand, though. She kept on holding it under the water, applying pressure, unwilling to move away.
He kept his focus on her hand over his, then lifted his eyes to hers with a look so intense, her toes curled. He said quietly, “I got work to do, Lizzie.”
She stared at the hand she held underwater, shaking her head. “Not today, Chance. Not with this here right hand.”
She didn’t know how it happened, but next thing she knew their hands were out of the water, the bowl had dropped to the ground and their fingers had entwined. The contrast of his weather-bronzed hand up against her pale one, big to small, rough to soft, sent shivers through her body. His touch made her shiver uncontrollably and the power of it shook her to the core.
She took a swallow.
Water dripped from both their wrists now. Lizzie’s pulse pounded.
Joyful nickered from the corral, breaking the silence.
Chance spread his legs wider and drew Lizzie closer, their gazes fastened as they stared for countless moments into each other’s eyes. Chance glanced at her lips, a quick flicker that she couldn’t miss. He could easily pull her down onto his lap and kiss her senseless. She wouldn’t protest. Not one little bit.
His gaze stayed on her. “You look pretty, Lizzie.”
They were the kindest words he’d ever spoken. She’d saved the blue dress he’d given her in Prescott for a more fitting occasion. She wouldn’t wear bright colors until a respectable amount of time of mourning had past. But she had taken extra care with her hair, pinning it up in a new fashion with loose tendrils falling on her cheekbones, and was wearing a newly sewn brown blouse tucked into a pleated shirt of the same color. “Thank you.”
“You going somewhere special today?”
She smiled. “It’s Sunday, Chance. I’m going to church. You could come with me.”
“Now how can I go with my face half shaved?”
“I’ll shave you,” she said softly. They were inches apart. His warm breath mingled with hers. “I could do it. I would shave Grandpa at times, when he was too weak to do it himself.”
His eyes filled with hunger and want and then he lowered his gaze to stare at her lips. She parted them and a deep groan rose up from his throat.
Throbbing heat pulsed below her belly. She was beginning to recognize the unfamiliar sensation that only surfaced when she was near him.
He said quietly, “I can’t have you touching me that way, Lizzie.”
She blinked. “But it’s only a shave.”
He pulled his fingers from hers and dropped his hand. “No, Lizzie.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me touching you?”
He rose from his seat and she was forced to back up a step to give him room. He grabbed a cloth and wiped the soap off his face, then wrapped his hand. “That’s what I’m saying.”
Her hope shattered. She thought for sure he would kiss her again. She thought for sure he wasn’t going to turn her away. Not after all they’d been through. “Why do you keep doing that?”
He didn’t pretend ignorance. He gave her a straightforward answer and pierced her with a genuine look of regret. “I keep forgetting who you are, Lizzie. I forget sometimes that you and me just won’t work.”
“Because of your vow to my grandfather.”
“We’ve been through all the reasons,” he said flatly, ending the discussion. It infuriated her when he did that, as if she was a child and he’d put his foot down, giving her no regard at all. “I’ll take you into town in the buckboard and you can ask Hayden to drive you back later. I’m sure he’ll be at church. Seeing as I can’t do much work today, I’ll get me a real shave and stay in town for a while. Don’t wait up.”
Lizzie glared at him. How could he be so kind in one moment, and so bullheaded and dense in the other? “Fine. Hayden asked me on a picnic after church. I’ll be out late, too. At least he’s one man I can count on.”
She stomped out of the yard and slammed the door behind her, leaving Chance standing there, probably mad as a hatter. At least it seemed that way, with all the cursing he was doing.
Chapter Thirteen
Lizzie stared at the ten yards of fabric spread out on her parlor floor. It surrounded her with color and brightness, lending some life to a room where she’d known a world of sadness. Her decision, once made, to begin fashioning her dolls again, had helped her deal with her loss.
She ran her palm across each one of the fabrics, reveling in the feel of soft calico cotton, smooth satin and rougher burlap under her fingertips. She owed one little girl a special doll and she had other orders to fill that would help bring cash to the ranch.
This time, though, the fashioning of her dolls would be more joy than obligation, and it would help fill the loneliness of the nights. Heaven knew she’d cried herself to sleep many a night, wishing for comfort that never came. Thinking that the comfort she sought in her heart of hearts would come from the man who slept in the bunkhouse just fifty steps away.
Chance was polite to her lately, which made her extremely wary. She couldn’t say he didn’t pull his weight on the ranch or deserve the rest he sought after dinner. Still, he wasn’t much of a companion. Most times, it was like pulling a stuck steer out of mud to get him to talk to her at all.
I can’t have you touching me that way, Lizzie.
And she hadn’t touched him or been touched in nearly two weeks. Not even a slight brushing of shoulders. Chance gave her a wide berth lately, keeping himself otherwise occupied when she was around. The one thing he had done was to encourage her to work on her dolls to fill the time. She’d heeded his suggestion, after assurances from him they had enough funds to buy the necessary items.
Chance had hopes for the ranch and that helped to boost her spirit. In the two weeks since Grandpa’s death, aside from making a good deal buying widow O’Dougal’s wagon, he’d obtained a wily bull that had caused a lot of damage to the Bar T Ranch. The owners were only too glad to be rid of him and Chance had struck another great deal. The bull was dangerous in inexperienced hands, Chance said, but he’d dealt with his type before and assured Lizzie he’d be no problem. After the bull came the purchase of a dozen heifers and yearlings, bought from a rancher eager to move out of Red Ridge.
The unexpected sound of Hayden’s voice interrupted Lizzie’s reflection, giving her a start. She peeked out the parlor window, noting him speaking with Chance, who had just ridden in from the pasture. Curious, she walked to the door and opened it as Hayden and Chance were shaking hands. “Glad you could make it.”
Lizzie stepped forward and both heads turned her way. “Afternoon, Lizzie,” her friend said.
“Hayden, hello.” She tried to keep surprise from her voice. It’s good to see you.”
Chance had a lopsided grin on his face. “I asked Hayden to supper today when I stopped in town. Too bad his mama couldn’t join us.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. Not that she wasn’t happy to see her friend, but she hadn’t expected Chance to do the inviting and not tell her until the guest had shown up.
“Chance said you were lonely, Lizzie. He thought I could cheer you up,” Hayden said.
Lizzie slid her eyes to Chance. He kept his expression blank. “Of course I’m glad to see you, but I’m managing okay,” she said.
“Well, I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by more often, Lizzie. I’ve been busy working on the expansion of the millinery.”
“I saw you at church this past Sunday.” That was five days ago.
“Yes, we had a nice visit.” Hayden wore the silliest moony-eyed expression.
“Lizzie, why don’t you take Hayden inside the house? I’m sure he’d enjoy some lemonade on such a warm day.”
Lizzie sent Chance a glare before turning to Hayden with a smile. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure thing, I would.” Hayden puffed out his chest. “Thanks for the invitation today,” he said to Chance. “It’s good to see the ranch again.”
“I’m sure Lizzie would agree that anytime you want to stop by for a visit, you’re welcome.”
“Thank you, Mr. Worth.” Hayden climbed the steps and Lizzie let him inside the house. Before she closed the door, she peered at Chance, who was grinning like a fool. Then he walked away with Joyful following loyally behind.
Lizzie slammed the door shut, muttering.
Hayden froze, with his arms half in, half out of the brown jacket of his suit. Ever since he’d returned home, he’d taken to wearing fancy clothes, and now as he glanced at her with a question in his eyes, she covered her chagrin with a faint-hearted smile. “Wind kicks up this time of day out here, always slamming the door clear shut.”
His eyes honed in on her. “You sure that’s all it is?”
“I’m sure,” she fibbed.
Hayden accepted her lie and she stirred uneasily with a smidgen of guilt. She didn’t need to bore him with her trials regarding Chance Worth. Her friend stepped into the room, finally taking his jacket off and slinging it over one shoulder. He focused his attention on the fabric strewn about the room. “My gosh, Lizzie. Look at all this.”
She hastened to gather up yards of material, enough to make a walkway toward the kitchen. “I’m going to be working on my dolls again.”
“I see that. You planning on making a hundred of them?” When he laughed Lizzie saw the young boy she’d grown up with reflected in his eyes and his friendly face.
“Not exactly a hundred, but quite a few.” She’d also set out to replace worn, holey curtains and to fashion herself a few pieces of clothing. Every one of her skirts were either ripped at the hem or patched where they’d been torn.
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