help.” Her grandfather spoke quietly, keeping his head back against the chair. “In case you were wondering, Lizzie. And I owed him something.”
She noticed the square walnut box sitting next to Chance on the sofa. She’d grown up seeing that box—it was as if it belonged here on the ranch. For as long as she could remember, that box had sat in the bottom drawer of her mama’s china cabinet.
When she was a young fanciful girl, she’d sneak into that drawer when no one was looking and ever so carefully open the box to stare at the blood-red ruby. Her imagination would run wild, thinking it a rare stolen treasure, a gem that was more beautiful than any she could ever fathom. Had it belonged to a princess from a faraway land, a pirate queen or a stately woman of wealth?
Lizzie never touched the ruby for fear her dirt-smudged fingers would mar the perfection of the stunning pear-shaped stone. Eventually, she came to learn the story about the ruby and how it had fallen into her grandfather’s possession.
The ruby she’d once secretly coveted belonged to Chance Worth. And her grandfather had summoned him here to return it. “I know now that you sent for him,” she said, “to return the ruby.”
Grandpa leaned forward and spoke with resolution. “And to help us, Lizzie,” he reminded her.
Lord knew, they needed help, but so far all the stranger had managed to do was to prevent her from rescuing her dolls and make things worse. She didn’t have a good feeling about this. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “How can he help?”
Her grandfather’s face brightened and it was a joy to see, so rarely did he smile anymore. “Now, Lizzie. I want you to think before reacting, okay?”
She nodded, wary. Usually when Grandpa said that, she didn’t like what came next.
“Chance has agreed to drive our herd to the railhead in Prescott with you.”
Alarmed, she shook her head. “But, Grandpa, you and I will drive the herd, once you’re feeling better.”
A flicker of sadness stole over his face and her heart dropped. There was something so resolute in that look, so final. “I’m not getting better, Lizzie. I’m weak and getting weaker every day.” The bleak reality struck her as he reached for her with cold, fragile hands. “I wish it weren’t so for your sake, dear girl. I wish I could go with you on the drive, the way we used to.”
“Grandpa, we could do it again. We could. The winter was harsh this year and I know that’s what made you sick, but it’s spring now. You’ll gain your strength back.”
Her grandfather peered at Chance and the two locked glances. “Chance knows cattle drives. He’ll make the trip without any difficulty and the two of you will be back shortly.”
Her body tensed. The emotions she’d kept at bay all these months were too much for her. Tears welled in her eyes. She rose and shook her head, lowering her voice, unable to hide the pain. “I don’t want to go without you.”
Her grandfather squeezed his eyes shut briefly then met her gaze. “We have no choice, Lizzie.”
She shot a glare at Chance and then marched out of the room so the stranger wouldn’t see the tears spill from her eyes.
* * *
Lizzie boiled up strips of beef in a big pot, added beans and potatoes to the mix for son-of-a-gun stew. It was a recipe she’d learned from the cookie, years ago, when she’d gone on cattle drives with her father and the crew. She’d been without a care in the world then—the ranch was thriving and those drives were an adventure for a young girl. But now, she had enough worries to fill the cookie’s chuck wagon and then some.
She’d had a good cry out by the barn minutes ago, trying to justify leaving grandpa all alone. She didn’t want to go on that drive. Not without him. And she surely didn’t want to drive cattle with Chance Worth. Why, he’d most likely mock her every step of the way and she’d hate every minute of it.
She stirred the stew and sniffled.
“Need some help?”
She whirled around to find Chance leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her. “How long have you been there?”
He moved into the room, ignoring her question. “Your grandpa’s taking a nap.”
He did that, napped several times during the day. She’d find him looking fatigued and the next thing she knew, he’d be on the sofa, head at an awkward angle against the back cushion, sleeping. “He needs rest.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“Well, mercy. I think you and I agree on something.” She rubbed her nose and sniffled again. She didn’t want Chance in the kitchen, hovering. He was too big. And he made her nerves stand on end. “Why don’t you get settled at the bunkhouse? There’s a few beds in there that aren’t—”
“I want to talk to you about the drive.”
She blinked. Then turned her attention to stirring the stew. “What about it?”
“We’ll go day after tomorrow.”
She nodded, lowering her voice. “I suppose if we have to,” she said, though she couldn’t bear the thought of Grandpa being alone for more than a week.
“And you’re gonna listen to me every step of the way. No tantrums, no arguments. We do things my way, Lizzie.” His eyes were hard, his voice gruff. “We need to make good time and I don’t want a female slowing us down.”
She dropped the wooden spoon in the stew and braced her hands on her hips. “My name’s not Lizzie, not to you. It’s Elizabeth. I don’t have tantrums and I won’t slow anybody down. I know more about drives than any other woman in the territory.”
He cocked half a smile, satisfied. “Good. Then you and me shouldn’t have a problem, so long as you realize I’m the trail boss.”
“It’s our herd and our lives at stake. Not yours. If I disagree with you, I’m gonna tell you.”
“You took a broken-down boat out in the lake and nearly got yourself killed. Hardly testimony to your clear thinking and good judgment. And don’t deny it. God knows you’re denying enough about your life.”
She stiffened at his curious remark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He walked toward her, the rowels of his spurs jangling as his boots scraped against the wood floor. He stopped inches from her, his gaze dark and direct. “You want to help your grandfather? Then you go on this drive without any fuss. Don’t make him feel bad. Give him some peace of mind.”
Peace of mind? What was he talking about? She’d done everything she could to help her grandfather. She’d worked all day and into the night to keep the ranch going, earning extra cash whenever she could. Could she help it that she’d rather go on the trail drive with her kin, than with a stranger whose uncouth ways were bound to rile her?
But what if he wasn’t speaking about that? What if he had something else in mind? Her mind reeling, she spoke softly now, suddenly unsure. “What do you mean ‘peace of mind’?”
