Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter

by Anna Schmidt

  Ten

  Maria had no choice. As angry as she was at Roger for upsetting her mother, she needed to speak with him about completing the branding. With Joker gone, they needed someone who could fill his role as iron man. So that morning, after she had settled herself behind her father’s desk, she sent Javier to tell the foreman that she needed to see him.

  He opened the door to the outbuilding slowly and stepped inside, his eyes skittering around the room as if he’d never seen the place before.

  “Sit down, Roger. I’m not going to bite.” His right eye was ringed in purple and the scratches on his cheeks had scabbed over.

  He let out an exaggerated breath of relief and sank into the chair opposite her. “I was worried,” he said, grinning at her. “You were plenty upset yesterday and—”

  “This is a business meeting, Roger. We are not here to discuss anything else, understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He was mocking her.

  She stared at him until he blinked and the smirk faded.

  “Now then, for the branding, who will replace Joker?”

  He slouched farther into the chair and scowled. “I suppose you want to have Hunter take the job.”

  “I am asking you as my foreman—as the man who should know the skills of each man.”

  “Well, it ain’t the drifter.”

  He seemed determined to pick a fight with her. Maria stood up and placed both palms flat on the surface of the desk as she leaned forward. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Roger. I do not know what your problem is with Chet Hunter, but I will tell both of you the same thing. If either of you allows your differences of opinion and personal dislike for each other to interfere with getting these calves branded and our stock to market in a timely manner without further loss, that man will be gone. Do I make myself clear?”

  Roger stood as well and placed both his hands on the desk. His face was no more than a breath from her own. “If you don’t want trouble, Maria, send Hunter and his whore and bastard kid packing today. Then we can get down to work.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  His mouth twisted into an ugly, mocking smile. “Then, sweetheart, you will have proved me to have been right all along. Ever since that cowboy got here, you’ve been mooning over him. If you think the other men haven’t noticed and aren’t mocking you behind your back, think again. You want to be in charge here? Then get some backbone and do what your pa would have done weeks ago.”

  In a motion so swift she did not see it coming, Roger grasped her chin with one hand, pulled her closer, and kissed her. “Let me do the job I was hired to do by your pa, Maria.” Then he released her with such force that she tottered unsteadily as he slammed his hat onto his head and left.

  Slowly, she wiped her lips with the back of one hand. She felt as if she needed to rinse her mouth out as well. She shuddered at the way he had forced her mouth open and penetrated it with his tongue. They had kissed before, but never with such brutality. This had not been about desire. This had been an open assault—a conquest—a violation.

  She sank back into her father’s chair, hearing the familiar squeak of it as she did. She clenched her fists and pounded them on the arms of the chair. “Oh, Papa, I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. She allowed herself the release of her frustration for just a moment—and then turned back to the pile of papers on the desk—bills that were overdue but could now be paid with the money she had secured through the loan. But nevertheless, there would be more bills coming, and the payroll for the hands, and…

  By the time she heard a soft knock at the office door, she had buried herself in the paperwork and regained at least some of her confidence. She was doing her best, and she was running things the way her father would have wanted. The fact that she had hired Chet Hunter was Roger’s doing when it came right down to it. If he hadn’t stormed off and taken her best hands with him, there would have been no reason—or money—to take on the drifter. By this time, he would have been no more than a memory.

  “Come,” she called when the knock was repeated.

  To her surprise, it was Ricardo who stepped inside. “Miss Maria,” he said softly as he approached the desk.

  “What can I do for you, Ricardo?” She did not miss the way he kept glancing nervously over his shoulder at the door as if expecting someone.

  “Last night I rode over to the Johnson ranch.”

  Maria smiled. It was well-known that Ricardo had taken a liking for George Johnson’s youngest daughter—an attraction that, according to Amanda, the girl returned. “And how is Louisa?”

  Rico blushed. “She’s fine—everybody’s fine.”

  “Spit it out, Ricardo,” she urged when he started edging back toward the door as if he’d changed his mind. “You did not come here to report a midnight visit with Louisa Johnson.”

  “No, ma’am,” he admitted, but his eyes had grown large with anxiety. When he heard Roger yelling at one of the men, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “I heard something that may have to do with Joker,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “A couple of the hands were talking about a man who been beaten up real bad and how he was just barely hanging on.”

  “And you thought this might be Joker? Why?”

  “I’m probably wrong. It’s just that whenever his name came up at night out there on the range, when we’d all be sitting around, a couple of the hands from the Johnson’s outfit would look at each other funny like and then turn the talk to something else.”

  “Thank you, Ricardo. I’ll have Mr. Turnbull look into it.”

  If possible, Rico’s eyes went even wider—this time with fear. “Maybe it would be better if you had Hunt check into it. I mean, not that I’m accusing the boss of anything, but he was the one that Joker crossed and—”

  “Very well. Ask Chet to come see me.” Rico seemed even more nervous and was obviously regretting ever setting foot in her office. “Ricardo, trust me. No one will know that I am speaking with him about this—certainly not Mr. Turnbull.”

  “Okay then. Thank you, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her and reached for the door.

  “Thank you, Ricardo. I know it wasn’t easy coming here.” Then she had a thought. “By the way, didn’t you and Joker work on branding together before my father’s accident?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And how do you think you might do working his job?”

  Rico snatched his hat off again. “As iron man?”

  “That’s the job I need to fill. Are you up to it?”

  This time the grin was genuine. “I’d sure appreciate the chance to try,” he said.

  “Very well then. Ask Mr. Turnbull to call all the hands together, and as soon as I’ve met with Chet, I’ll be out to speak with them.”

  “Yes, miss. Gracias, miss.” Rico opened the door, uncaring of who might see him, and gave a whoop of pure joy as he hurried off to share the news with the other hands.

  For the first time all morning, Maria smiled.

  * * *

  “Miss Maria wants to see you in her office, Hunt.”

  Chet realized he’d been expecting this. All morning, he’d been trying to decide what to do about Loralei and her baby once he was sent packing. He was hardly in a position to support them, and as much as Loralei might think getting married would solve everything, Chet knew it would be the worst possible idea.

  “She made me iron man,” Rico added with a shy smile.

  “That’s great—really great.” He clapped Eduardo’s eldest son on the shoulder and headed off toward the office. The door was open, and Maria was seated behind a large desk that looked as if it had been through a storm. There were piles of papers and ledgers everywhere. He stepped inside and removed his hat.

  “Rico said you wanted to see me?”

 
“Yes.”

  He turned to close the door.

  “Leave it,” she said. “There are enough tongues wagging around here without adding fuel to that fire.” She did not indicate that he should sit, so he remained standing.

  She concentrated on a list she was making. He could not help but notice the way she refused to look directly at him. “I have the assignments here,” she said.

  “Rico’s real pleased about you giving him Joker’s job.”

  “It’s temporary.”

  “He’ll prove himself. You can be sure of that.”

  She looked up for the first time since he’d entered the office. “That’s not the point. Once Oscar comes back…”

  Chet wasn’t sure what to say. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, stop looking at me as if I’ve suddenly gone crazy, Chet. There is some evidence that he may be badly hurt but alive. I need someone I can trust—and spare—to investigate. Unfortunately, at the moment I have my doubts about trusting anyone outside my own family and Eduardo’s, but you are the most likely candidate. No one will question if I ask George Johnson to take you on at his place and send one of his hands over here…”

  “How does that solve anything?”

  “Do not question me, Chet. I have come to a decision, and it is not open to debate. My sending you away will calm matters here and—”

  “Turnbull’s behind you wanting me gone?”

  She sighed wearily. “I did not say that, but obviously if I can have the two of you as far apart as possible…”

  He glanced at the door she’d insisted he leave open and then took a step closer to her desk. “And what do you want, Maria?”

  She was writing the note to the Johnsons, but her hand froze and then she laid down the pen and looked up at him. Her eyes were the color of the ocean on a stormy day. “What do I want?” She shook her head slowly. “Does it matter?”

  “It matters a good deal to me.”

  She smiled for the first time since he’d entered the office, but there was no joy in that smile. “Don’t you have enough to worry about without taking me on in the bargain?”

  “It’s because I want to set things right with you that I’m working on that…other matter. The water?”

  “Why do you care? Isn’t the plan for you to move on? Seymour tells me you want to make your home in California.”

  “Maybe.” He took another step closer. “Right now this seems about as much of a home as I might ever need to find.”

  “Chet, I—”

  “That child is not mine, Maria. I can’t prove it, but I’m asking you to believe me.”

  “But why would Loralei come all this way then?”

  “She’s pretty mixed-up and desperate right now. Her father is a hard man, and she’s paid a big price for her mistake.”

  “No child is a mistake, Chet.”

  “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” He wished he had the way with words that she did. Maybe then he could make her understand. “I’m trying to figure out how to do right by her and her baby, but, Maria, I need some time and I need…” He didn’t complete the sentence.

  “What do you need, Chet?”

  “I need to know you trust me and believe that I would never abandon my own child. That boy is innocent in all of this, and to tell you the truth, it eats at me the way Loralei is using him to get what she wants.”

  Maria studied him for a long moment. “You truly care for little Chester, don’t you?”

  “My own pa abandoned my sister and me,” he said. “That boy is facing a similar life, and that’s reason enough for me to care what happens to him.”

  “You’re a good man, Chet—a man who cares for others, sometimes to your own detriment.”

  “Then you believe me?”

  She studied him again for a long, long time as if making up her mind. “Yes,” she said softly. “And right now, I am trusting you to help me find out what’s happened to Joker.” She finished writing the note, placed it in an envelope, and handed it to him.

  He accepted the note but allowed his fingers to stay touching hers. “And if I find Joker?”

  She closed her fingers around his. “First get him to a doctor—or a doctor to him—and then do not tell anyone until you have gotten news of his condition to me. After that, I’ll decide.”

  “What makes you think the man’s alive?”

  Without giving up the name of her informant, she told him what had been overheard at the Johnsons’ ranch. It didn’t take much to figure out that her informant was Rico, however—something any man on the ranch could have guessed as well.

  She released her hold on him. “You should get going once you’ve said good-bye to—to everyone.”

  He tucked the envelope into his shirt pocket. “Maria, we can’t leave it here. I need you to give me a chance to explain about what happened with Loralei and—”

  Her back was to him, but he saw the way her shoulders stiffened at Loralei’s name. “Later. I can’t right now. I… Just go,” she whispered.

  He hated leaving her upset, but Chet knew now wasn’t the time to push for more. She believed him when he said the baby wasn’t his—for now, that would be enough. He quietly turned on his heel and left. Outside, the men were gathering for the meeting. Chet went to the corral and saddled one of the horses.

  “What’s going on?” Bunker asked, keeping his voice low.

  “She’ll tell you,” Chet said, nodding toward Maria, who was coming across the yard.

  “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it, Bunker?” Turnbull stepped forward as Chet mounted the horse. “Miss Maria sent him packing and none too soon. You taking your—”

  Chet leaned down so that his face was as close as he ever hoped to be again to Roger’s mug. “Stop talking, Turnbull, before you look like the fool you are.”

  To his credit, Turnbull said no more. Instead he turned away from Chet and started yelling at the other men. “All right, gather ’round and listen up. Miss Maria has something she wants to say.”

  On his way out, Chet rode past the house and courtyard, where he could see Maria’s mother playing with the baby while Loralei sat in the shade fanning herself. His instinct was to just keep going, but something about the way Constance Porterfield was laughing as the baby grasped chubby handfuls of her hair made him stop.

  “Loralei,” he called, and immediately she sat up and turned to him, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. “Miz Porterfield has not been well. Don’t let the baby tire her out.”

  Now she was on her feet. “Where are you going? Are you leaving me? You can’t—”

  “I’ve got a job to do. I’ll be back in a week or so. Try to make yourself useful around here.”

  “You’ll be back?”

  He nodded as he saw Juanita and Ezma come out into the yard. “I’ll be back.”

  “But…”

  Chet tipped his hat to Juanita and Ezma, glanced once more at Maria’s mother and the child, and realized neither one of them was paying him any mind at all. The kid would be all right with Juanita, Ezma, and Mrs. Porterfield watching over him. Chet kicked the roan into a gallop. Cracker barked and followed.

  * * *

  Sending Chet away may well have been a good decision had Roger not found ways to bring it up every time Maria was within earshot.

  “Good work there, Rico,” he shouted. “Miss Maria had us all scared thinking she was going to give that job to the drifter.”

  “The man’s name is Hunt,” she heard Bunker mutter. Of course, even Bunker wasn’t brash enough to say those words so that Roger could hear, but she could see that the other men heard and that they—like Bunker—did not find Roger’s constant harping on Chet amusing.

  Later that same evening, when Maria and the rest of the family were having their supper, Roger stepped inside the hous
e, hat in hand. “Just wanted to let you know we’re well ahead of schedule, Miss Maria,” he told her. “That cowhand that Mr. Johnson sent over is worth two men like—”

  “Thank you, Roger. Please thank the men for their hard work today. Good night.”

  After they had finished eating and she was in the kitchen helping Juanita wash dishes, the housekeeper kept chewing her lower lip—a sure sign she had something to say and was still working out just how to say it.

  “What’s bothering you, Juanita?”

  The housekeeper washed several more plates before she spoke. “I was thinking about that woman showing up in town like she did. How did she know to come here of all places?”

  “She said something about a letter.”

  “Well, the way Chet reacted to seeing her here, it’s certain that letter didn’t come from him. And if it didn’t come from you…”

  “It did not. Although I probably should have investigated a stranger’s background more than I did, we were in need of help and—”

  Juanita dried her hands on a towel and continued speaking as if Maria had said nothing. “So if Chet didn’t write to her and you didn’t write a letter asking about Chet, that only leaves one person who could have.”

  “Roger wrote to her father,” Maria said. “He’s had a grudge against Chet from the day he came back with the lost stock after the stampede.”

  “It’s more than a grudge, mi hija. Roger sees Chet as a threat.”

  “Well, he has no reason for that.”

  “He doesn’t need a reason, Maria.”

  Maria finished drying the last of the dishes.

  “Sending Chet away was a very smart move,” Juanita said softly. “You’re allowing time for things to settle down a bit around here. Your papa would be proud.”

  The housekeeper’s praise meant a great deal to Maria, so she did not explain her true reasons for sending Chet away. There was no sense in involving Juanita or any of her family.

  “But you still have one problem you need to figure out,” Juanita continued. She jerked her head toward the anteroom. “How long are you going to let that woman stay on without earning her keep or at least caring for her own child?”