A Cowboy Worth Claiming (15 page)

He leaned against the tree again and pulled her close to his chest. He spoke with deadly intent, forcing air from his lungs. “Wish I could’ve killed him twice.”

The truth slammed at Lizzie from all directions. She’d nearly had her pride taken tonight. She could have been sorely abused and killed. And Chance might have died, trying to save her. He’d been forced to stab a man to death to protect her. That was enough to send her to her knees to pray to the Lord.

She would count her blessings later, but now her dire concern turned to the ranch. The much-needed cash was gone. What would become of her grandfather? All her dreams of getting him doctored and making him well again were gone. She’d banked his recovery on that money. She’d hoped for a miracle to save him. The ranch was as good as ruined. The thief who’d attacked them had not only stolen her cash, but pillaged every shred of hope she’d had.

She’d failed Grandpa again.

A sob rose up from her throat. And then another. She couldn’t stifle them. The harder she tried, the more forceful they became. Her body shook all at once, and a flood of tears ran like a river from her eyes. She nestled into Chance’s chest and soaked his shirt clean through with her sobbing.

“Ah, Lizzie.” Her name rose from his throat with a deep sigh. He brought her tight against him and ran his hand through her long hair. His fingers sifted the strands with tenderness making her squirm to get closer to him. She couldn’t seem to get close enough. She wanted to inch up inside him and stay there, forever safe, without thinking of her loss, without feeling anything but his powerful gentle arms around her. She clung on to his shirt, and cried as hard as she’d ever cried in her life.

Chapter Ten

T
hey took the road back to Prescott in silence. Lizzie rode atop Joyful and Chance walked some of the way. After a time, he mounted the mare and they rode double. His breath, familiar now, warmed her throat and his body curving around hers no longer worried her. She leaned against him and absorbed his strength. She’d been doing that lately, relying on him, but she couldn’t much help it.

Her dismal circumstances filled her every thought. She was sick inside. It was as if someone had come through her body and swooped out all that was good, all that was hopeful, leaving her empty but for the ache.

Chance was deep in thought himself. Killing a man, no matter how good the reason, must weigh heavily on the soul. Even for a man like him—who’d lived life the hard way, as Grandpa would say—the taking of a life must have some profound effect. Chance said he’d wished he could have killed him twice, but Lizzie didn’t think he meant it. If he’d had any other choice, he would have taken it. He’d stabbed Quinn to save their lives, plain and simple, but she wasn’t looking forward to the retelling of the story to the town marshal. Nope, she surely wasn’t.

“Lizzie, you alright?”

She nodded and sat straighter in the saddle, giving up the wall of Chance’s chest as her backboard.

“Not like you being so quiet, but I suppose you got a right.”

“I thought you liked it when I kept my lips buttoned.”

Chance chuckled, his laugh small but rich enough to lift the corners of her mouth. She didn’t have much else to smile about. “I do.”

“So stop complaining.”

From behind her, she sensed his mouth pulling up in a wide grin. The kind that infuriated her, but now it just seemed fitting. “That’s my Lizzie.”

She wished she was his Lizzie, but Chance made it perfectly clear she wasn’t. Her mood was distressed enough without giving in to such silly notions right now. She wouldn’t allow her mind to wander to a time that took Chance off the ranch and away from her. He was the first man to kiss her. That was a memory she would forever hold to her heart. And with what they’d been through together on this trail drive, she would even look upon Chance Worth as her friend.

He’d never admit that, but she knew it for a fact. And Lizzie needed a good friend right about now. More than she ever had in the past.

The ordeal in Prescott took less time than she’d thought. Chance made his statement to the marshal. They’d ridden over to the stockyard and questioned the proprietor, Steven Turlington, who’d bought their herd and sure enough, those two men, Quinn Martin and his friend, Buford Lang, were new hires, who’d only worked at the stockyard little more than a week.

Turlington told Chance and Marshal Hopkins all he knew of the two men. It didn’t seem like much and all she could do was to hope the Marshal would get a lead as to where the other man might have gone. He promised to go back and try to follow the man’s tracks from the robbery point.

Chance looked as though he wanted to go on that manhunt. He kept shooting glances at her as if making a tough choice. Finally, he left it in the marshal’s hands.

She couldn’t wait to rid herself of this town. Her nerves jumped while waiting for Chance to purchase supplies they’d need to get them home. As they exited the mercantile, he said, “Good thing I keep cash in my boots.”

The robbers hadn’t looked on their person. Buford, the man that took off was too smart to stick around overly long. He’d already gotten a wagonload of money. He’d double-crossed his partner and came away with the loot and his life. The other man had met with a violent death.

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.