Charlene Sands – A Cowboy Worth Claiming (страница 8)

“Good thing it’s a small herd,” he said.

“If it were bigger, we wouldn’t be in such a dilemma.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“I do think so.” For half a dozen reasons, but mostly because they’d have sold off more cattle and earned enough cash to see them through hard times.

“I guess you’re right.”

It was the first time Chance admitted she was right about anything and she took a measure of satisfaction in that.

With him being so near, Lizzie had trouble thinking at all and every time his breath tickled her neck, she squirmed in the saddle. So much so, that Chance didn’t hold back his complaints, so she willed herself to settle down.

He’s just a man.

Nothing to squirm over, she thought. The scenery’s more interesting than him. To prove it to herself she glanced around, taking in the view from atop Joyful, as the mare ambled down the road leading to Red Ridge. Winter rains had left tall grass and trees that flourished with greenery. The contrast in hues on this land always made her glory in the day; red earth, blue sky and vegetation that stole from a rainbow of colors. She loved living at Red Ridge, loved ranching, but she didn’t love the hardships that had befallen them lately. She hoped to earn money enough on the drive to get her grandfather the true doctoring he needed. Maybe take him to an infirmary where he could be properly treated. He’d put up a fuss about it and refuse to go, stubborn as he could be at times, so Lizzie had never revealed her secret hopes to him.

They reached the edge of town half an hour later, coming upon the Swenson homestead. “Please stop here,” she said as she gazed at the small cheerful house surrounded by a whitewashed picket fence.

“Here?”

She nodded, turning part way toward him. “Yes, there’s something I need to do.”

“That something have to do with what’s in the package you tied behind the saddle?”

“Yes,” she said and as she turned back around, she saw Greta Swenson outside sweeping dust from her front porch.

The woman noticed her and set her broom aside to give them both a wave of welcome. She had the kindest eyes and Lizzie wondered if her mama would’ve looked upon her visitors with the same sort of friendly invitation.

“Hello, Mrs. Swenson,” she called out.

“Mornin’, Lizzie. It’s good to see you today.”

Chance reined in Joyful in front of the house. He dismounted with his usual grace and ground tethered his mare. He stood close and peered into her eyes, waiting with arms outstretched to help her down. Grudgingly, and knowing Mrs. Swenson was watching, Lizzie accepted his gallantry, shaking off another bout of jittery nerves as he held her close and lowered her from the saddle. Once her boots hit solid earth, he released her and she averted her gaze, afraid of what her eyes might reveal. She moved away from him and made quick work of releasing the ties that held the package in place.

With the package tucked under her arm, she turned to Chance. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

But instead of staying put by his horse, Chance surprised her by falling in step beside her as she walked up the path to the house.

“Well, now, we expected you yesterday, but I’m happy to see you today.” The woman with dark blond hair, graying at the temples, wore a gracious smile. “And who is this you brought with you?”

Chance tipped his hat cordially, then removed it. “Chance Worth, ma’am. I’m working at the Mitchell spread now.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Worth. We’re always pleased to have newcomers in Red Ridge. I’m Greta Swenson.”

“He’s with the ranch temporarily,” Lizzie explained.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be a big help to you and Edward.” The woman opened her front door. “Please come in. I’ll get you both a glass of cider.”

“That’d be nice,” Chance said, waiting for the women to enter, before following behind.

They were ushered into her parlor and stood there for only a second before she rushed her explanation. “I came to visit Sarah, but I’m afraid I don’t have the doll you ordered. It’s a long story and I apologize for not honoring my word. If you’d kindly get Sarah, I’d like to explain it to both of you.”

“Of course, Lizzie.” Mrs. Swenson showed no disappointment. She was too nice to make anyone feel badly about anything, but Lizzie was certain she felt bad enough for all of three of them. “My daughter is resting, but I’m sure she’d love to see you. Please, have a seat in here and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get your refreshments.”

They took their seats, one on either end of the soft, melt-into-the-cushion sofa and waited, Lizzie refusing to meet Chance’s steady gaze. Mrs. Swenson came back into the room with two cranberry tumblers, handing one to each of them cordially before excusing herself to dress her daughter for company.

They sat in silence, Lizzie sipping her drink slowly, letting the spicy liquid soothe her parched throat and refresh her while Chance gulped his down quickly.

A few moments later, Sarah walked in holding her mother’s hand. She wore a pretty dress the color of bright sunflowers with matching ribbons in her hair. Lizzie’s heart ached seeing Sarah’s weak, ashen body in those vibrant clothes. The contrast made the child appear more frail and sickly than if she wore plain unadorned garments.

Sarah gave the tall man sitting on her mama’s sofa a cautious look. But as she refocused her attention on Lizzie, her eyes brightened and a sweet smile spread across her face.

“Lizzie is here to see you,” her mother said. “And this young man is Mr. Worth.”

The shy six-year-old glanced his way and whispered, “Nice to meet you.”

Chance smiled a friendly smile, which seemed to convince the little girl he was not to be feared. “Hello, Sarah.”

She looked at her mother, then at Lizzie. “Go on, sit down next to Lizzie, honey.”

Sarah did so, taking up the space directly next to her. Though the child’s gaze kept shifting to the package on Lizzie’s lap, she remained silent, waiting with eager anticipation for Lizzie to say something.

Lizzie plunged right in. She hated her circumstances. And hated that she would have to disappoint the little girl, yet she owed her an explanation. “I’m sorry, Sarah. But I don’t have your very special doll today. I… There was an accident and—”

“You don’t?”

“No, I’m very sorry, Sarah.”

Sarah put her head down and Lizzie looked up just in time to see Chance’s eyes soften on the child.

Lizzie sighed and continued, speaking slowly to Sarah, while at the same time darting glances at Mrs. Swenson, her explanation meant for both of them. She didn’t elaborate about how she’d gone down in the water, fishing for dolls near the lake bottom until her lungs burned. No, she didn’t want to see the look on Chance’s face if she admitted that, but she did tell them about how the rickety old boat had failed her and how quickly the lake had swallowed up all the dolls.

“I’m sorry to say your doll and five others are sitting on the bottom of the lake out by my house.”

Sarah nodded, her head still down.

“Lizzie, I know how hard you worked on those dolls,” Mrs. Swenson said. “It must have been horrible to see all that work destroyed.” She lowered down on a flowery material-backed armchair adjacent to her.

“Yes, ma’am. It was.”

“Lizzie is mighty lucky she came away with her life,” Chance added, unnecessarily. He ignored her glare, speaking directly to Sarah’s mother. “The lake was about ready to swallow her up, too.”

She sent him a brittle smile, then shifted her attention to convince Sarah’s mother. “It wasn’t truly dangerous.”

Greta Swenson’s eyes widened with surprise and horror as she laid her hand over her heart. “Oh, Lizzie. Those dolls aren’t worth your life. I’m glad you got out of the lake safe and sound.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said, giving up trying to convince anyone about anything. She was more concerned with Sarah. The little girl was crestfallen and still hadn’t looked up. She softened her tone. “Sarah, I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, but I have something for you. It’s something very special to me and I want you to do me a favor.”

Finally, Sarah lifted her face and cast her a round-eyed look as desolate as Arizona’s drought land. Lizzie prayed this would be enough to remove the disappointment from Sarah’s face. “A favor?”

“Uh-huh,” Lizzie said. “I have to go away for a little while. And, well, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch Sally Ann for me.”

She unfolded the package carefully, undoing the edges one corner at a time, until Sally Ann’s smiling face came into view. “She was a gift from my father.”

Sarah gasped, her body stirring with vitality. “She’s pretty.”

Not nearly as pretty as the doll Lizzie had fashioned for Sarah. But from the child’s expression of awe, she didn’t seem to notice the discolored clothes and slight tears in the fabric. “And old. I never let her out of my sight after…well, when I was a little girl. She went everywhere with me. I sure did love her. And now, since I’m going on a trail drive and won’t be able to replace your very special doll for a while, I’m hoping you can keep an eye on Sally Ann for me.”