Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter

by Anna Schmidt

  “I wasn’t aware that you and Mr. Turnbull were on such good terms,” Maria said.

  Loralei’s cheeks flamed an unbecoming blotchy scarlet. “We—that is—he has been kind enough to stop by. After all, you sent Chet away, and Roger is only doing what any gentleman would do.” Her expression had turned defiant.

  “We are moving away from your purpose in coming here in the first place, Loralei, and I have work to do. So either take responsibility for keeping your son’s clothing clean—wear gloves if you must—or you can always move back to town or hire help. But Juanita and my sister and Ezma—as long as we are paying her—have their own duties. Now if you’ll excuse me…” She pulled out a ledger and began entering figures in the columns.

  After a moment of working her mouth into a tight, angry slit, Loralei stood up, walked to the door, slammed it open, and left. And the minute she did, Maria unlocked the desk drawer, took out Chet’s note, and reread it, looking, she realized, for any sign at all that he might be missing her. But his words showed no such sign, so she refolded the note and placed it back in the desk drawer before turning back to the ledger.

  Like the papers on her father’s desk, it seemed like problems just kept piling up for the ranch and Maria. Knowing there was little she could do to change the numbers that didn’t add up the way she needed them to, she decided she need to go into town, see Doc Wilcox, and get the whole story about Oscar.

  “I want to talk to Doc,” she told Amanda, who could not understand why she couldn’t come along. “I really need you to stay here with Mama. Nita has her hands full and…”

  “Tell me you aren’t planning to cancel the party.”

  The party had been the last thing on Maria’s mind. “Of course not,” she assured her sister. “Why would I do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Seems to me you’ve been doing all sorts of strange things lately.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sending Chet away for one thing, and then there’s Rico.”

  “What about Ricardo?”

  Amanda heaved a sigh of pure exasperation. “I never saw him set foot in Papa’s office before, but the other day, there he was.”

  “You know what that was about. Ricardo wanted his chance to do the branding. It took a lot of courage for him to come and ask me for that.”

  “Okay, so then Roger sends him off to track strays, and I heard Slim and Bunker talking, and they were saying that Roger can’t do half the job Rico can.”

  Maria was well aware of the difference. She’d heard the same thing from Eduardo. “Roger just has a lighter touch.” The truth was that when Roger wielded the branding iron, the brand was indeed lighter—less clear—than when either Joker or Rico did the work. She didn’t want to believe he was deliberately sabotaging the branding, and yet the questions about Roger and his loyalty to her family were beginning to build.

  “Seems to me Papa used to fuss about how the Tipton Brothers’ brand was so similar to ours. Seems to me—”

  “Amanda, you are worrying about things you know nothing about. Roger is an experienced ranch hand. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Yeah, like stopping in to see sweet Loralei pretty much every night.”

  “How would you possibly know that?”

  “Ezma told Juanita.”

  Maria closed her eyes. “Look, I’m riding into town because I want to talk to Doc about Mama. I want to be sure we are doing whatever we can to help her, and I think—because Doc sees you as young and fragile…”

  Amanda started to protest, and Maria held up her hand. “I don’t think of you that way, but Doc does, so if you were in the room, he might try to protect you by not saying what he really thinks. Just let me do this, Amanda, for Mama.”

  She had said the magic words. Amanda was devoted to their mother, and of the four children, she had been the most devastated by Constance’s ongoing malaise. Tears welled in her younger sister’s eyes. “Do you think Doc might be able to help? I mean, all she does is lie there, staring at the ceiling unless Ezma brings little Chester to see her.”

  “And isn’t that a positive sign? The fact that she pulls herself together for the baby?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Amanda, we have to work together here. I rely on you to watch over Mama—you’ve always been her favorite.”

  “Next to Trey,” Amanda said grudgingly.

  “Side by side with Trey.” Maria hugged her sister. “I’ll be home by suppertime,” she promised as she pulled on her riding gloves. “If anyone asks questions, just say I had to go into town to get some medicine for Mama. It’s not a lie now, is it?”

  Amanda smiled. “Mama would say you are stretching the truth to its limits.” She handed Maria their father’s hat. “I’m scared for us, Maria. Roger’s changed so much. It’s like he doesn’t much like us anymore, and him hanging around Loralei… I wish Chet were here instead of at the Johnsons’ place.”

  “I know. But one step at a time, okay?” She put on the hat and tightened the rawhide tie that held it in place. “I need to get going.”

  They walked out together. Across the way, they could hear the noise of the branding—calves bawling, men shouting, horses snorting, and then the telltale scent of burned flesh as the hot branding iron connected with cow hide. Maria paused for a minute then mounted her horse and headed off toward town. Later she planned to compare Rico’s work to Roger’s. The irrefutable evidence that he had continued to have contact with the Tiptons bothered her. He had once told her that he and Buck Tipton had worked another spread together back in Texas, citing that as the source of their friendship. But he had also pledged his loyalty to her father—and to her. The Clear Springs ranch could not afford to lose any more stock to rustlers or have the Tiptons change the mark and claim the animal belonged to them.

  When she got to the Wilcox house, she was relieved to see Doc’s carriage gone. The truth was that she wanted to talk to Addie, not her father. Chet’s note had said “she,” and the more Maria thought about that, the more certain she was that it had been Addie and not her father who had tended to Oscar’s injuries. Now she needed to know just how serious those injuries were.

  Addie answered the door and invited Maria to sit with her on the porch while they enjoyed a glass of cold lemonade. “Anybody passing by will just assume you’re waiting for Pa,” she said. “But that’s not why you’ve come, is it?”

  “No,” Maria admitted. “I want to know about Oscar Crutchfield.”

  “Well, I can tell you this, if it hadn’t been for that new fella, Joker would be dead. As it is, he might still lose a leg.”

  “Did he tell you how it happened?”

  Addie nearly choked on her lemonade. “We know what happened, Maria. Somebody beat the living stuffing out of him and probably thought they’d left him dead. He’s scared, that’s for sure, and not saying much, but any mention of the Tiptons and he starts shaking like the last leaf clinging to a cottonwood in December.”

  “Did you talk to Chet Hunter?”

  “I spent a good bit of time riding out to the Johnsons’ place and back with the man. Good-looking son of a gun, don’t you think?”

  Maria chose to ignore this. “What did he say?”

  “Not much of a talker, that one. Holds his cards real close to his vest. Besides, I understand he’s got his own troubles—a woman and a kid?”

  “News travels fast.”

  Addie smiled. “Well, before that woman rolled into town, speculation was that maybe finally a man worthy of Maria Porterfield had shown up. Any truth to that?”

  “None,” Maria said as she set her glass down and stood. “I should get back. When are you going to see Oscar again?”

  “Tonight. Louisa Johnson was in town earlier and made a big deal of inviting me for supper when we crossed paths at the mercantile. Must have been half a dozen pe
ople who heard her. Why don’t you come along? Then you can see for yourself how Joker’s farin’.”

  And see Chet. Maria shook off that thought. This was about Oscar, not Chet. But the thought of seeing him again—of being near enough to see the laugh lines around his eyes and the way he had of looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—the chance for all of that was more than enough reason for her to consider Addie’s suggestion despite the soft voice in her head whispering she was being a fool.

  “It’s on your way home,” Addie added. “George Johnson could send a message to your family, so they don’t worry. You could stay the night and that would give you and the Johnsons time to figure out what comes next.”

  Addie was making a strong case. “I’m not exactly dressed for—”

  “You aren’t going to a party, Maria, and from what I hear, that drifter can’t take his eyes off you no matter what you’re wearing. My guess is he’d prefer you not wearing anything at all,” she added with a sly smile.

  “You are terrible,” Maria said, but she was laughing. Addie was a dear friend, and it had been far too long since they’d spent time together. There had been a time when they had both thought that Addie and Jess would end up together, but they’d had a falling out when Addie insisted on finishing her medical training and then Jess had left.

  “Okay, let’s go to supper at the Johnsons’.”

  “Thought you might like that idea,” Addie said as she gathered their glasses and carried them inside. “Meet me ’round back.”

  * * *

  Chet was puzzled when he saw two female riders approach the Johnsons’ ranch. He’d been expecting Addie Wilcox, but who was the other woman? He squinted into the harsh, late afternoon sun.

  Maria. Had there ever been a woman who could affect him the way this one did? Would there ever be again if he lost any chance he might still have with her? But the closer the riders came, the more his thoughts reverted to the reality and danger of the situation. What was she doing here?

  The Johnson family came onto their porch to welcome Addie and express their surprise and delight that Maria had come as well. George Johnson called one of the younger hands over and gave him some instructions. When the cowboy came back to the corral, where Chet was hanging around with some of the other hands, he told them he had to ride over to the Clear Springs and let them know Miss Maria had stopped for supper and would be staying the night.

  Chet’s heart hammered. Was he nervous for Joker—that she might give away his presence in the house? Or was it that this might be his chance to talk to her and explain once and for all about Loralei and the baby?

  And what if he did? What was the point? Did he honestly think a woman like Maria would ever take up with the likes of him? What did he have to offer her? Even if he could get to California and establish himself there and come back for her…

  “Hunt!”

  He looked up and saw Dusty and the other men staring at him.

  “What?”

  “I asked you if you wanted to play cards.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was get trapped inside the bunkhouse, where he wouldn’t be able to see what was going on at the house. He grinned. “You boys took the last of my bettin’ money last night.”

  “You still got that stake you been savin’ for that place out in Californey,” Dusty said. “You might double your money.”

  “Might lose it all just as likely,” Chet replied. “Think I’ll head down to the creek and see if there’s enough water to cool off.”

  “Good luck with that—ain’t enough water running to wash a baby rabbit, much less a growed-up cowboy,” Dusty replied as he and the other hands headed for the bunkhouse.

  Chet had located a spot near the creek where he could see into Joker’s room. He’d seen Louisa Johnson and her mother tend to the man—feeding him, bathing him, helping him sit up. As he passed by the ranch house on his way down to the creek, he could see the family gathered around the dining room table. Maria was seated between Louisa and Addie, and the young women were laughing about something as they passed dishes heaped with steaming food around the table.

  In case one of the other hands had decided to join him at the creek, he continued on down to the bank, stooped down, and dipped his neckerchief in the water. He twisted it and then looped it around his neck. The water—lukewarm as it was—felt good as it leaked down his neck and back, wetting his shirt. He wished there was enough water that he could submerge himself in it—clothes and all. There was little chance he would get close enough to actually speak to Maria, but if he did, it would be nice not to be smelling like cow dung. He ran his hand over the stubble that covered his chin and thought about Maria’s skin—how smooth and soft it looked in spite of growing up in the hot sun of the desert.

  Thinking about her skin made him picture her eyes—the way she looked at him. A man would give a lot to have somebody look at him the way she did. Early on, it had been like she couldn’t quite figure him out, but that had changed. Just before Loralei arrived, when she looked at him, it seemed like she might be feeling the same longing he felt for her. He thought about her lips—the way they fought against a real smile sometimes—maybe because she was afraid if she smiled too much, the men wouldn’t take her seriously. But those lips were made to smile—and to be kissed.

  “Get a hold on yourself, Hunter,” he muttered. But then he heard Maria’s voice drifting out through the open dining room window. The gathering was breaking up. He could hear the clink of dishes being stacked, followed by the squeal of a screen door. He edged back toward the house and saw George Johnson take his usual place on the porch in a high-backed wooden chair and light a cigar. Chet took up his position outside Joker’s room. A few minutes passed, and then he saw Addie and Maria enter the room. Maria stood by the door while Addie examined Joker’s leg. Addie talked to Joker, and then Maria sat on the side of the bed. Chet would give a lot to know what she was saying to the cowhand.

  * * *

  Maria watched Addie examine Joker’s leg. “Coming along real nice now that we’ve got you out of that barn.”

  “When can he be moved back to the Clear Springs?” Maria asked.

  “He can be moved anytime, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Infection?”

  “More like when whoever did this to him finds out he’s alive, they might decide they need to finish the job.”

  Joker winced. “Please, Miss Maria, if the Johnsons have no problem with me staying here for a while longer…”

  His fear was obvious. Maria sat on the side of the bed while Addie continued changing the dressing that covered the deep cut over his eye. “Tell me what happened, Oscar.”

  “Just leave it be, Miss Maria. Nothin’ you can do about it, and tryin’ will just bring you more trouble.”

  “Is it Roger? Is that who’s got you so scared?”

  He tried to deny it, but she still had her suspicions.

  “Oscar, tell me what you know.”

  “Just stay out of it, please. Hunt will work it all out.”

  So was he saying that Chet knew the truth? She patted Joker’s hand. “All right. You get some rest now, and we’ll talk more later…tomorrow.”

  “You’re stayin’ the night?”

  Maria nodded.

  Joker let out a sigh of relief. “Good. You need to be careful, Miss Maria. Takin’ off like you tend to do without a thought for danger out there, that’s not wise.”

  “I’ll be careful. You get some rest.”

  She nodded to Louisa, who was waiting by the door, her knitting in hand, ready to sit with the patient. “I need some fresh air,” she said.

  “Where’s Hunter?” Addie asked Louisa.

  “He has this place where he sits at night to keep watch.” She indicated a place outside the window. “That’s why the window�
�s open so wide, so he can get here if I need him.”

  Maria nodded, and when Addie started to follow her out, she said, “You see if you can get anything more out of Oscar. I’ll talk to Chet.”

  Addie shrugged and returned to sit with Louisa and their patient. Maria slipped out through the back door and approached the cluster of shrubs and bushes that offered a hiding place with a good view of Oscar’s sick room.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Maria.” His voice was low and husky and held no surprise.

  Now that she was finally within arm’s reach of him, she didn’t know what to do or say. She’d been thinking about what he said, about him, since he’d left. She’d had a hard time thinking of anything else at times. And now she felt the strong impulse to run to him, throw her arms around him and press her cheek to his chest. She wanted to feel his warmth and his gentleness. She wanted to take all the times she had imagined—sometimes against her better judgment—what it might be like to kiss him and make that a reality. But because he stayed where he was, so did she.

  “This is the one place I should be, Chet. I need to find out what’s going on.”

  “It’s between Joker and whoever did this to him.”

  “And whoever ordered this done to him. What is it he knows, Chet?”

  “Stay out of it, Maria, before somebody else gets hurt.”

  “Oscar works for me, Chet. He worked for my father. He has been loyal to our family, and I intend to see that whoever is behind this is stopped.”

  Before she knew what was happening, Chet had grabbed her arm and pulled her deep into the bushes with him. With one hand, he covered her mouth, and his lips were close to her ear as he whispered, “Be still. Somebody’s comin’.”

  She felt his arms tighten around her, felt the beat of his heart against her cheek as he cradled her head against his chest. Without realizing it, she wrapped her arms around him and held on, listening as he was for whoever might be nearby.