A Cowboy Worth Claiming. Charlene Sands
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.”
Sarah began nodding eagerly, her eyes bright.
“I think you could do that, don’t you, Sarah?” Mrs. Swenson asked.
“Yes, Mama. I can.”
“Do you want to hold her?” When Sarah’s head bobbed up and down, Lizzie lifted the doll from her lap and handed her over. “Here you go.”
Sarah wrapped her arms around the doll and squeezed it tenderly as though it was the answer to all her prayers. She brought the doll’s body against her face. “She’s soft.”
“I know. All that stuffing,” Lizzie said, grinning.
Sarah chuckled.
“Will you take good care of her for me?” Lizzie asked.
The little girl’s voice was sweet to Lizzie’s ears and full of eager excitement. “Yes, I promise. I’ll sleep with her and everything.”
Lizzie fingered the doll’s braided brown yarn hair and whispered past the lump in her throat, “I was hoping you would.”
Sarah beamed with joy and a bit of youthful color tinged her sallow cheeks to a pink glow.
“When I get back from driving cattle, I’ll be sure to sew you a doll all your own. But for now, I sure do appreciate you doing me this favor.”
Lizzie glanced at Sarah’s mother and choked up all over again at the woman’s grateful expression. Mrs. Swenson’s voice softened as she managed the words. “She’ll take excellent care of her for you, Lizzie.”
“I know she will.”
Mrs. Swenson leaned over and brought her into a close embrace, whispering near her ear, “Thank you.”
Too overwrought with emotion to reply, Lizzie simply nodded.
After they waved goodbye to mother and daughter on the porch, Chance helped her up onto the saddle and then took hold of the reins, leading Joyful on foot. “You’re walking the rest of the way?” she asked.
“Can’t take all that fidgeting you do.”
“I do not fidget.”
“You do. And you’re good at it.”
“Well, at least you think I’m good at something.”
Chance glanced over his shoulder to gaze at her from under the brim of his hat. “You’re good at more than one thing.”
Her mouth dropped open and she was about to ask what he meant until his gaze shifted and she followed it back to the Swenson house. Sarah was still there, waving to them with one hand, while holding onto Sally Ann in a tight grip with the other and wearing a big smile on her face.
“Was a real nice thing you did just now, Lizzie.”
With that, he turned around and picked up the pace, walking at a steady beat toward town.
Lizzie remained in the saddle, speechless. Chance had paid her a compliment, and it felt better than a warm steamy soak in a bathtub. In truth, it annoyed her how much his flattering remark pleased her.
And if she wasn’t terribly careful, she might wind up actually liking him.
Lord, have mercy.
* * *
People gawked from the storefronts and sidewalks as Chance guided Joyful through Red Ridge with Lizzie atop the mare. He was used to being a stranger, to being watched, and he didn’t fault the town for being cautious. He’d been the outcast enough in his time to know when stares meant simple curiosity or when they meant trouble. Today, curiosity was in favor, so Chance met with their eyes with a nod of his head and a smile. As he took in the town, he made note of the wide sidewalks and pristine shops, the clean streets and orderly manner in which the town was laid out.
So unlike the booming cow towns he’d known where indecency and despair seemed the way of life. Where saloons outnumbered churches by five to one and where crime and debauchery were not only tolerated, but expected by the few fine citizens whose roots were so ingrained