Free A Cowboy Worth Claiming by Charlene Sands

kitchen in a hurry, forcing tears away, and found Grandpa waiting for her outside, standing on the porch with his face arching to the rising sun. “You’ll do fine, Lizzie.”
    She sidled up next to him. “I know, Grandpa.”
    “I expect you and Chance to get along on this trip.”
    “We…will.” She didn’t sound all too convincing, but it was the best she could do.
    “He’s a good man. You and him have more in common than you think. He’s known loss and hurt in his life, too.”
    “I don’t deny him that. It’s just that he’s—”
    “Heed his words,” Grandpa said with warning in his voice. “He’ll keep you safe.”
    She choked back a sob. Who would keep Grandpa safe? Who would watch out for him now? She knew it took great effort for him to stand tall, his shoulders straight and voice strong. He was doing it for her. He was holding back his weakness until she was well on the road. He was pretending again.
    She took a deep swallow. “I will.”
    He turned to her then and pulled her into his arms. “Promise me, Lizzie? Promise me so I can know some peace,” he whispered in her ear.
    She nodded, willing to promise him anything to give him the solace and rest he sorely needed. “I promise, Grandpa. I do.”
    He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. “That’s my girl. I love you, Elizabeth.”
    “Oh, Grandpa!” She hugged him none too gently, her head pressed into his chest. She held on to his frail shoulders, feeling his strength fade, feeling the weakness overtake him. Tears spilled from her eyes and she wiped them away with a swipe of her shirt. She had to be strong. She had to be brave. She’d done it all her life and today was no different. She whispered, “I love you, too.”
    Taking a steady breath, she pulled away in time to see him reach into his pocket.
    “Take this.” He handed her his freshly cleaned neckerchief. “It’s always served me well.”
    Lizzie’s spirit rose and the ache in her heart subsided some. The neckerchief was Grandpa’s favorite, the one he wore to start off all the drives. Having this with her while on the trail each day would give her a measure of hope. She felt it flow through her, a feeling that maybe she was wrong about her life changing. Maybe once she returned, her life, the only life she’d known, would be waiting for her again.
    Eagerly and holding back a fresh round of tears, she fastened the fabric around her neck, noting the bright red color had faded to brick from wear on the trail. “Thank you, Grandpa. I’ll use it every day.”
    His eyes warm and loving, he smiled. “Now go. Chance is waiting. I’ll be here when you return.”
    She wanted to make him promise. She wanted a guarantee but instead, she nodded and banked on his words, holding them close to her heart as she plopped a hat on her head, brushed a soft kiss to his cheek and bid him farewell.
    * * *
    Lizzie didn’t look back, though she was sorely tempted. She didn’t have to turn around to know when the Red Ridge Mountains and the valley she’d called home disappeared from sight. She felt it in her belly. Even the air seemed different on the open range, the familiar scent of wildflowers and honeysuckle, of hundreds of grazing cattle, of apple pies coming out of ovens and fire pits cooking up the noon-day meals gave way to wide-open spaces with diluted subtle scents. The vastness of the land required it.
    Surefoot, the chestnut gelding she rode, was strong and well-suited for the trail. He seemed to know his job, which made Lizzie’s time riding flank and drag that much easier. The horse took commands well and she had to grudgingly give both Chance and Warren credit for choosing the right horse for her to ride, though she doubted either one of them would hear that praise fall from her lips.
    Chance rode point, leading the herd on their journey, and at times, he would double back to check on things, not saying much, just giving her a nod and eyeing the herd.
    Checking up