Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter

by Anna Schmidt

  “That child has ruined my life, Chet. Oh, I know he didn’t do it deliberately but—”

  “Do you hear yourself, Loralei? We are talking about a baby that you brought into this world. He has no blame in any of this.”

  She shrugged. “I know. You’re right, of course, but sometimes when I think of months and years of being tied down and…” She picked up the mirror and gently touched her cheeks. “Look at me, Chet. Between this constant dry air and the dirt and the sleepless nights when Ezma can’t get the child to stop wailing, I am looking so wan and old and—”

  “We are talking about a child, Loralei. If you can’t bring yourself to find a single motherly feeling, then give the boy to me.”

  The minute he said it, he knew he was being completely irrational. What was he going to do with a kid? But Loralei was smiling at him.

  “You mean it?” She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Chet, honey, you are such a good man. Thank you. Thank you.”

  He could hardly go back on his offer, could he? Maybe he’d ride into town and speak to Addie Wilcox. As a doctor, she might know of a good home for the baby. But giving the boy up to be raised by strangers didn’t seem much better than letting him take his chances with Loralei. In one simple statement, he had just made his chances of ever being with Maria more complicated.

  “For now, he stays right here with you and Ezma,” he instructed, his mind racing as he searched for ideas for how he was going to manage this. “Understood?”

  “Yes of course, sweetie. You go herd your cows and such, get your money, and I’ll be right here waiting—me, Ezma, and the baby.” She clapped her hands together as if she were a child herself. “Oh, Chet, things are going to work out after all.”

  He stood at the door hat in hand, his back to her. “What’s his full name?”

  “Chester Maxwell Hunter.”

  Chet nodded, clapped his hat on his head, and stepped outside into the rain. On his way to the bunkhouse, he passed by the house and saw Ezma rocking the child as she sat talking to Juanita in the kitchen. He stopped at the kitchen door, and both women looked at him, clearly surprised. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s fine,” Juanita replied.

  “That’s good. Just wanted you to know he’s to be called by his middle name from now on—Max.” He couldn’t say for sure, but it looked like the kid raised one little fist in approval.

  Chet nodded to Juanita and Ezma and headed for the barn.

  Max, he thought. It was a good name.

  * * *

  Maria had only the slimmest of evidence that Roger was somehow connected to her father’s death. It wasn’t anything that was likely to hold up in court—that much she had reasoned out as she and Chet had returned to the ranch. But it was a start. Now what she needed to do was find a way to connect Roger, her father, and the place her father died, and the only way she could figure out how to do that was to renew her relationship with Roger. So the minute she had spotted him pacing the courtyard as she and Chet rode back to the ranch, she kicked her horse to a gallop and took off.

  By the time she reached the courtyard, she was breathless and flushed enough that Roger came to meet her, his expression one of alarm. “Maria? What’s happened?”

  “I’m all right, Roger,” she said but allowed him to hold her for a moment as he helped her down from her horse. “Come inside, will you?” She took his arm. “It’s just that Oscar’s death has stirred up so many painful memories of Papa, and right now I don’t want to upset Mama. And Amanda and Trey are too young to understand all that I am feeling.” She had patted his arm. “I need a friend, Roger. Will you be my friend?”

  She had expected some sarcastic remark about Chet, but instead Roger had puffed up his chest. He believed that at last he had won, and in victory, he could be benevolent. “You know I am here for you, Maria, I have always been here for you.”

  “Thank you. I am so very tired.”

  “Of course you are. Just leave everything to me.”

  And all through Oscar’s funeral and the days that followed, as the men completed the branding and returned that stock to the high ground for grazing, Roger was true to his word. It was Roger who sat at her father’s desk, met with the cowhands, gave out assignments. It was Roger who sat at meals with the family, made a fuss over how beautiful Amanda was becoming, and showed an interest in Trey’s ideas for the ranch. It was Roger who daily called on Constance Porterfield—flowers or a cup of tea in hand—and won her grudging acceptance by asking her what she thought her late husband might do about this or that problem with the ranch. And to Maria’s relief, as Roger’s power grew, his animosity toward Chet cooled to a low simmer that he expressed only in smirks and snide remarks.

  There was only one potential problem—Loralei. The woman was not pleased that Roger had no time for her. She made excuses to come to the house when she knew he would be there, and twice Maria had seen her leaving the office in tears. According to Juanita, Ezma had reported that Loralei had taken to muttering to herself about how promises had been made and this time she would not allow a man to simply walk away.

  The hardest part of this whole charade was that Maria had to keep her distance from Chet. She longed to sit with him and tell him what was going on. She missed everything about him—his voice, his laughter, his kisses—especially his kisses. But to her delight, it was Chet who found a solution to their separation. One evening Bunker came to the house, hat in hand, just after the family—and Roger—had finished their supper.

  “Evenin’, ma’am,” he said with a shy nod at Constance. “Boss, I wonder if I might have a word with Mrs. Porterfield.”

  Roger glanced up from his slice of pie and nodded.

  “It’s about Snap—Trey, ma’am. The boys in the bunkhouse were remembering what a good job he did out there on the range, and we thought maybe if he started staying with us, we could teach him and take him along when we round up the herd to take to market down in Yuma in a week or so.”

  Trey looked at his mother, his eyes begging her to agree.

  “Trey?” Constance glanced at Bunker. “I’m not sure he’s up to it, Seymour. You know how ill he was and—”

  “Please, Mama. I have to learn some time.”

  “Well, I suppose. What do you think, Roger?”

  Roger had trouble controlling his smile of complete triumph. For the first time since her husband’s death, Maria’s mother had turned to him for advice—not to Maria, but to him.

  “I think it’s a fine idea, ma’am. The boy is certainly outnumbered by you ladies here in the house. Do him good to spend some time with the men.” He turned to Bunker. “You’ll see that he’s always with one of the more experienced hands and never alone, Bunker.” As always it was an order, not a request.

  “Sure, boss.”

  “I’ll help you gather your things, Trey,” Amanda offered.

  “Good idea, Snap,” Bunker said. “I’ll just wait out here on the porch.” He glanced at Maria, who was slicing pie for their dessert. “I sure wouldn’t refuse a piece of that pie, Miss Maria.”

  She laughed. “Go on and sit down. I’ll bring you your pie—and a cup of coffee?”

  “Now that would be mighty nice of you.”

  “Roger? Another slice?”

  Roger smiled. “You know I can’t refuse Juanita’s pie.”

  She served Roger first then took the pie and coffee out to Seymour. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

  He removed his hat and pulled a folded paper from inside and handed it to her. “Best read this later,” he instructed. “It’s from Hunt.”

  Just as Trey and the others came outside, she pocketed the note and turned to her brother. “We’ll walk you down to the bunkhouse,” she said, realizing it might be a chance to see Chet if only from across a room.

  “Ah, Sis, it’s not
that far.”

  Bunker put his arm around Trey’s shoulders. “Bigger distance than you might think, Snap. Besides, you know how the ladies like to make a fuss,” he added in a whisper they all heard.

  Everyone laughed and headed across to the yard. Bunker walked next to Constance. “Just want to say, ma’am, how well you’re looking these days. The boys and me are glad to see it.”

  Maria’s mother smiled, then turned her attention to Trey. “You mind your manners, young man. Just because you’re going to the bunkhouse does not mean you are to forget everything you’ve been taught in my house.” She smoothed back her son’s hair.

  When they all entered the bunkhouse, the men jumped to their feet and snatched off their hats. Maria tried not to be obvious as she searched the room for Chet. She saw him behind the others, standing in the shadows, his eyes on no one but her. She swallowed the urge to run to him. Instead, she hugged Trey. When the women returned to the main house, Roger was waiting on the porch.

  “Walk with me, Maria.” Again this was not a request.

  “Oh, Roger, perhaps tomorrow? Amanda wants to talk to Mama and me about plans for the party, and I promised.” She tried to fake a note of disappointment at having to turn him down, but the truth was that it was becoming more difficult by the day to avoid any situation where she and Roger might find themselves alone—where he might assume that his kisses would be welcomed.

  He cupped her cheek and leaned closer. “Tomorrow then,” he said softly and ran his thumb across her lips. She repressed a shudder, thinking, This man may have killed my father.

  She could barely wait to find a moment alone so she could see what was written on the paper that Bunker had slipped to her. Finally, the moment came when Amanda went to help Constance get ready for bed. Maria took the note from her pocket and moved closer to the lamp in her bedroom. The handwriting was small but neat, the words direct and to the point.

  Meet me at the creek where we found your mother. C.

  How on earth did he think she could possibly get away without raising suspicion? And yet she would find a way. She waited until she heard Amanda coming down the hall, then wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.

  “Where are you going at this hour?” Amanda asked.

  “The rain has finally stopped, and I thought I would take a walk. It might help me sleep. Do you want to come?”

  As she had hoped, her sister made a face. “I’m not having any trouble sleeping. You go ahead.”

  She was surprised to find Juanita still in the kitchen.

  “Just going for a walk,” she said.

  “Sit down, Maria,” Juanita said.

  “I—”

  Juanita pointed to the kitchen chair. “Your mama is in no condition to talk straight to you, so it falls to me.”

  “And?”

  “We all like Chet very much. He has done a good deal for this family—the way he’s brought Trey along not being the least of it. But, Maria, he’s not for you. He’s a hired hand and a drifter. How will he provide for you should the day come that the two of you—”

  “He doesn’t have to provide for me. We have the ranch.”

  “But it’s not his ranch, and you have to remember that he came here with the intention of getting some money saved up and moving on to California where he could have a place of his own.”

  “I know, but—”

  “There’s no but’s about it, Maria. Any fool can see that the two of you can barely keep your hands off each other, but I am telling you that unless something changes, it can’t come to good.”

  “But I love him.”

  Juanita wrapped her arms around Maria’s shoulders. “I know you do, and more’s the pity. You have to know when to let him go, Maria, because there will come that day.”

  Maria hated that she understood that Juanita was probably right. On the other hand, did it have to be that way? After all, who would have thought that she—a woman—could take on the running of one of the largest ranches in Arizona? No, times were changing, and they would find a way.

  Gently she pulled away from Juanita’s embrace. “I’m still going for that walk,” she said stubbornly.

  Juanita smiled. “I know. Just keep your head about you.”

  Outside she kept to the shadows as she made her way to the creek. As she slipped past the bunkhouse, she saw Roger with his hand on Trey’s shoulder, lecturing the men about making sure the boy was always with one of them and never off on his own. Knowing Roger, he would feel the need to make his point multiple times.

  But just as she passed the open door, she heard Roger ask, “Where’s Hunt?”

  Maria froze.

  “Night shift,” Bunker replied. “Him and Happy and Rico.” Now that they had completed the branding, those animals had rejoined the rest of the herd for grazing before the final roundup of stock for market. Bunker’s explanation seemed to satisfy Roger, and he resumed his lecture. Maria hurried on down the rocky path to the creek.

  At her approach, Chet turned, then hesitated for a second before holding his arms out to her. She ran the last few steps. Is this what true love feels like? This longing for him and feeling I’m only complete when he’s with me? she wondered as he folded his arms around her. She lifted her face to his for the kiss she had been longing for.

  “We haven’t much time,” he said as he kissed her closed eyelids and cheeks, then stepped back, still holding on to her shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I think my plan is working. I told Roger I knew about the dam, and he’s beginning to talk more freely about how we might get around that and get the water running again. Of course, that’s all just for show, I’m sure. He hasn’t let anything slip yet, but in time—”

  “You are playing a very dangerous game, Maria. These men are not ones you should try to take down on your own.”

  “I’m not. I just have to have more proof.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll go to Marshal Tucker, I promise.” She stroked his cheek. “Meanwhile I have some news about Loralei.” She told him what Ezma had overheard Loralei say about not allowing a man to simply walk away again. “She was talking about Roger.”

  “He turned to her because you rejected him, and now that he thinks you’ve taken him back, he has no need of her.”

  “My heart goes out to the child,” Maria said. “Thankfully he’s too young right now to realize what’s going on but one day…”

  Chet breathed out a sigh and led Maria to a rock. “Sit down, Maria. I need to tell you something.”

  She could barely believe what she was hearing as he told her of his conversation with Loralei—the letter, the promise to give her his wages, and worst of all, her decision to give up her own child.

  “But you aren’t the father so why would you…”

  “What else was I going to do? Think about it, Maria. Think about the life that boy was being doomed to. So that’s what I came to tell you tonight. Once the stock gets to market, I need to figure out what’s best for Max. In all of this, he’s the one nobody seems to be considering. Maybe going on to California might just be the right thing to do. Ezma has agreed to come with me and care for the kid until I can find a place to buy and—”

  “With what? If you give your wages to Loralei, where will the money to buy a place of your own come from? And why on earth would you leave here?” Why would you leave me?

  For the first time, she began to have doubts about the depth of Chet’s feelings for her. She knew that he cared for her, but loving her?

  “If that’s what needs to be done, then I was hoping maybe you might consider coming with me.”

  These were the words she had longed to hear, and yet how could she leave? She had worked so hard to save the ranch—if not for herself, then for Trey. Her brother was far too young to take on the Tiptons, and they were not
going to stop trying to take over every acre of land they could.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “Surely you understand that.” He was quiet for far too long. “Chet, tell me you understand.”

  “I do. It’s just that I hoped… You’d best be getting back,” he said softly.

  She nodded, fighting back the tears that stung her lashes, and turned to go.

  But Chet pulled her back, his arms coming around her and his breath soft as rain on her face. “I won’t leave until I know you’ve worked out everything here. Until I know for sure that you and everyone in your family is safe. That’s a promise, Maria.” He kissed her, and as always, it was as if all her doubts evaporated like a morning mist.

  “Chet, when you leave…”

  “That’s not something we need to be thinking on right now, Maria. We’ve got this moment. Let’s not spoil it by trying to figure out what lies down the road a ways.”

  He kissed her again—a kiss filled with passion and desire. A kiss she never wanted to end. A kiss that felt like good-bye.

  “Now go,” he said, releasing her with obvious reluctance.

  “I…”

  “Shhh,” he whispered, touching her lips. “Just go, Maria, and get some rest and promise me you’ll be careful.”

  She nodded, her heart so full that she knew if she tried to speak, she would not be able to hold back her tears. She touched his cheek, and he grasped her hand and kissed her palm, then nodded toward the house. “Go.” His voice was husky, and she felt a flash of shared emotion pass between them. Whatever their status in society might be, this man was everything she would ever need or want, and whatever it took, she would find a way to be with him.

  Sixteen

  “Used to be that the boss would hire extra drovers to take his stock to market,” Bunker explained the night before they were to head out for Yuma. “But these last years there’s been no money for that, so we’ll join up with the other small ranchers and share the work.”