of his gaze stirring her senses. They stood that way, facing each other, his grip tight yet gentle and when she thought he’d say what was on his mind, he seemed to think better of it. He released her and backed up. “I think you know, Lizzie.”
She put her head down, refusing to look in his eyes and whispered, “I don’t. I swear I don’t know what you mean at all.”
He sighed and walked away from her. After a time, his footsteps faded and the door squeaked closed behind him. Marching to the window, she pulled aside the curtains and watched him stride into the barn, readying to settle on the ranch and barge into her life.
She wished Grandpa had never sent for him.
It was one of a long list of wishes that Lizzie hadn’t seen come true this year.
* * *
Chance strode into the barn to check on Joyful and retrieve his saddlebags. The sorry sorrel he’d noticed earlier snorted quietly as he walked by. The slight effort seemed laborious for the animal that looked weary and old enough to have seen war days. Wasn’t a wonder why Lizzie chose to walk into town today—the mare wouldn’t have hastened her trip at all.
It was hard to believe that Edward had kept the ranch running this long. Chance was damn glad he showed up when he did, though he wasn’t looking forward to having Lizzie along on the cattle drive. Without a crew and a string of horses to switch out, she’d have to put in long hours and eat her share of dust on the trail. Good thing they only had a hundred miles to travel to the railhead.
Chance wouldn’t let Edward down.
Leastways not with the short trail drive.
Finding Lizzie a husband was another matter.
He approached his mare, muttering, “The old man’s worried over his granddaughter and I’ve got to find her a man.”
Joyful turned to the sound of his voice, her brown eyes on him. Chance stroked her mane, running his hands along the length of the coarse hairs and then gave her a pat as thoughts of Edward’s quickly laid-out plan came to mind. Chance wasn’t too sure it would work. His old friend explained the situation—so far Lizzie had pretty much shooed away any of the would-be suitors that Edward had brought out to the ranch.
Can’t say as he blamed the men from turning tail and running. As much as he’d seen of her, Lizzie lacked female wiles and didn’t have enough charm to entice a stray pup to Sunday supper, much less a would-be husband.
Chance grabbed his saddlebags and bedroll and entered the bunkhouse. Cobwebs crisscrossed the ceiling above his head and a layer of red dust kicked up as he moved into the space, yet the place wouldn’t be the worst he’d lived in. He scanned the six bunks across the far wall deciding one was no better than the other, worn blankets and all, but they were sturdy enough for a man his size. He tossed his gear on the floor, took off his gun belt and sat down on the nearest bunk testing the thin mattress. It was a far cry better than hard ground. He laid his head back, setting his hat low to cover his eyes, and adjusted his body on the bunk, hanging his boots off the edge.
He’d barely had a few minutes of respite before he sensed a presence hovering over him. On instinct, he reached for his six-shooter and cocked it, hinging his body up so fast his hat went flying from his head.
“Oh!” Startled, Lizzie backed up, her eyes trained on the gun.
He glared at her. “What are you doing sneaking up on me?”
Her usual bravado gone, she lowered her voice. “I…wasn’t.”
He set the gun down on the bed. “You weren’t? Funny, but I didn’t hear you knock.”
“The door was open. I came looking for you. Supper’s ready.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When he thought she’d go, she continued to stand there, carefully studying him. “You got something else to say?”
“What are you afraid of, anyway?” she asked, her brows furrowing together. “You grabbed your gun so fast, I thought I was going to meet my maker years before my time.”
“Scared you, did I?”
She paused, her expression tightening. She didn’t like to give in, that much he’d already found out about the Mitchell girl. She raised her chin and nodded. “Maybe.”
“It’s good if I did and a valuable lesson to learn, Lizzie. You’ve not seen the world the way I have. You got to be on your guard every second of the day. Being alert has kept me alive and you’d best learn early that you can’t trust everyone.”
“Does that include you?”
He caught her stare and thought for a moment before giving her an answer. “Your grandfather trusts me.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
Now she was being just plain argumentative. Her chin lifted another inch and he noticed the feminine lines of her jaw, the slender length of her throat. “You don’t have to trust me, Lizzie. In fact, it’d be better if you didn’t.”
She blinked as his words sank in. Then with a sharper tone, she continued, “You didn’t answer my first question. Why are you sleeping with your gun?”
“Stupid question.”
“Stupid or not, I’d like an answer. Is someone after you?”
Nobody double-crossed Alistair Dunston and got away with it. Chance had left the man riled about him leaving the Circle D Ranch but it wasn’t as if he’d committed a crime or anything. Yet, he was in rare company defying the powerful man’s wishes, so Chance figured to keep his guard up. It never hurt a man to be smart. “Nope. A lot of men sleep with their guns. Keep that in mind and don’t go stealing into rooms unless you’re tired of breathing.”
“And you might try not shooting my head off when I announce supper,” she snapped.
He glanced at her pinched-tight lips and thought Lizzie needed lessons in manners. “You have a sass mouth.”
“You’ve told me that already. I doubt that’s going to change.”
“It’s gotta change, Lizzie. Just remember what I said about the trail drive and we’ll get along just fine.” He rose from the bunk and, towering above her, stared into her eyes. “You’re no match for me.”
Her expression faltered for a second, then filled with dawning realization. His attempt to instill fear in her hadn’t worked as planned. Lizzie set her chin stubbornly and met his gaze head-on. “I just might surprise you, Chance Worth.”
With that, she lifted her ugly skirt, whirled around and hastily exited the bunkhouse.
A wayward thought popped into his head and he hoped to high heaven that the surprise Lizzie had in mind for him wouldn’t be arsenic in his beef stew tonight.
Chapter Three
“Wasn’t too
