Charlene Sands - A Cowboy Worth Claiming

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.

Lizzie kept up a brisk pace.

“You gonna walk all the way back home?”

Her shoulder lifted in a shrug and she kept walking.

“That woman upset you?”

Her head shook slightly.

“Lizzie?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Chance understood that. There was many a time when his life just wasn’t worth talking about. Lizzie had it rough lately, he’d give her that, and if she needed a little peace right now, Chance would grant her silence.

Without her sass mouth doing any arguing, it would be two of the most pleasant miles he’d travel with her.

* * *

Lizzie’s feet ached and her stomach growled as they rounded the bend by the lake. She’d walked half the distance home so far, her feet moving beneath her rapidly as if they had a mind of their own. At times, Lizzie needed to walk off her remorse and her sorrow, but it wasn’t working out too well at the moment. She wasn’t alone and that was part of the problem. Chance was there, beside her, every step of the way. He’d been quiet on the way home from Red Ridge. Too quiet. It unnerved her and allowed her mind to fill with distressing thoughts.

Just when she was ready to make a comment about his silence, he began whistling a tune, out of tune. His carefree attitude grated on her even more. He had no cares in the world, it seemed, yet Lizzie had too much to care about. Too many troubles fogged up her brain and strong as she was, sometimes it all seemed overly much for her to take.

She stopped walking and turned to him. “What’s that awful sound?”

Chance pulled up on the reins and looked around. “I didn’t hear anything.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m talking about your whistling. Sounds more like two starving hawks fighting over a carcass.”

“Lizzie, you’re not hearing straight. Got something in your ears?”

“No, but cotton would be good about now.”

Chance grinned.

It infuriated her that he looked upon her time and again with amusement, as if to say, she wasn’t a woman to be taken seriously. She refrained from stomping her feet and marching off. Planting her hands on her hips, she stood her ground. “What’s that smile for?”

He shrugged and leaned over the saddle which made it easier to meet his piercing eyes. “Well, uh, Lizzie. You looked a little sad for some reason and I thought that my whistling might just brighten your day.”