Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter

by Anna Schmidt

“Cleaner this way. You give Cardwell this envelope and give me the one you brought—that money will go into the association’s till as your first installment on repaying us. Agreed?”

  She looked at the fat brown envelope he handed her. She didn’t need to count it to know that the amount was right, covering the loan and the interest in full. These men were her family’s friends and neighbors. She had known most of them since she was a tiny child. She made the trade—the association’s envelope for hers—and shook hands with each rancher.

  Clyde Cardwell stood at his office door, a worried frown adding to the creases of his jowled face, sweat filling each crevice. “Mr. Johnson,” he said by way of acknowledging the group now crowding into his office. “Perhaps you could explain what this is about.”

  “In time, Cardwell, but first this little lady here has some business with you.”

  The ranchers formed a double row of protection as Maria stepped forward and laid the cash on the banker’s desk. From the lobby, she heard the large wall clock tick off the last seconds and then begin chiming twelve bells. She could not seem to stop smiling. Her father’s killer was behind bars. Her family’s ranch was safe.

  She looked around for the one person whose approval meant everything to her, but Chet had quietly slipped away.

  * * *

  Chet had hung around long enough to understand that with the help of her fellow ranchers, Maria had managed the impossible—she had saved her family’s ranch. And because she had risked everything to do that, it was unlikely that she would be willing to leave it—even for him. She would never be happy anyplace but at Clear Springs Ranch. He, on the other hand, had to think about little Max and the promise he’d made to himself to give that boy a far better life than he would ever have had with Loralei or her family—a better life than he and his sister had known growing up. Could he do that by staying in Arizona?

  He didn’t see that working. Maria would be running the ranch, and either he would stay on as her foreman or maybe pick up work at the Johnsons’ place. Either way, she deserved better—a man who was her equal. He could maybe buy a little place right here, but that was a joke since the Tiptons grabbed up every acre of land as soon as it became available. He had no doubt that she was as caught up in the passion they shared as he was. But passion eventually turned to something more settled, and he just couldn’t see how he could possibly make Maria happy over the long haul. No, he’d talk to Johnson, and if that didn’t work out, he’d pack his gear and head west.

  He saw a woman coming his way, midforties with a welcoming smile. “Hello, you must be Chet Hunter.” She stuck out her hand. “Eliza McNew. I run the mercantile and I’ve been friends with the Porterfields since Maria was a baby.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Maria—Miss Maria has spoken highly of you.”

  “You planning on staying around now that the dust is starting to settle?”

  He was taken aback at her directness. “Well now, ma’am…” He chuckled and shook his head. “I guess I don’t rightly know how to answer that.”

  “Yes or no works.” She squinted up at him. “Oh, don’t go getting all tense. Word has it Roger Turnbull has lit out of here like somebody put a firecracker under him. The Porterfields are gonna need a foreman. Maria’s done more than anybody could have ever imagined, but the truth is she deserves a life of her own.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So you’re planning to stay?”

  “I’m considering my options, ma’am.” It wasn’t a lie—just not the whole truth.

  “Good. I’ll see you at the party then?”

  “I reckon so.”

  “Gonna be a real fandango,” Eliza promised. “Amanda Porterfield may not know much about ranching, but when it comes to planning a party, that little girl has no equal.” She pumped his hand again. “Good to finally meet you, Chet.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He watched her return to her shop. He’d forgotten all about the party. He looked down at his dirt-encrusted boots, his canvas pants with the patch covering a split on one knee, and his shirt worn thin by years of wear. Maybe Miss Eliza McNew had a shirt she’d be willing to part with for less than full price. He waited for the women he’d seen entering the store to leave.

  “Got just the thing,” Eliza said as she rummaged through a stack of folded shirts and pulled out one in dark blue. “Maria’s wearing a blue dress, and if you wear this, well, you are going to make one good-looking couple on the dance floor.” She held it up to him.

  “How much?”

  She fingered the price tag then ripped it free. “Look at that. Perfect shirt and on sale for two bits. You wanna pay cash or run a tab?”

  “Now, Miss McNew…” Chet began, but she was already wrapping the shirt.

  “Look, Chet, sometimes you give by taking if you get my meaning. Everybody knows what you’ve done for the Porterfields—and what you did for Joker.” She pressed the package into his hands. “I’ll start that tab because I’m hoping you plan to stay around these parts for a good long time.” She squeezed his hand. “We need men like you, Chet.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  * * *

  The first person Maria ran to see once she’d returned to the ranch was her mother. As the days had cooled with the coming of autumn, Constance often sat in the courtyard watching Ezma play with Max. They had all adopted the name Chet had given the boy, preferring it to Loralei’s mockery of Chet’s name.

  “Mama, it’s over,” Maria told her as they sat together in the courtyard. She explained about the plan for the small ranchers to form a cooperative. Her mother nodded but made no comment beyond, “Your father will…would be very proud, Maria.”

  “I’ve arranged to repay the men,” Maria added. “It puts us further in debt with the co-op, but it seemed only fair.”

  “Whatever you think, dear.”

  Maria was near tears, so badly did she want her mother to snap out of her malaise and once again be the strong, opinionated woman she had once been, a woman who freely gave out instructions and reminders of how things were to be done. The Porterfield way, she had always said. But maybe Constance Porterfield’s enthusiasm for life had died with her husband.

  Maria decided to try another topic. “Amanda seems to have everything in hand for the party. It will be a true celebration now.”

  “I suppose.” Constance closed her eyes, and for a moment Maria thought her mother had dozed off. But then she said quietly, “I have been thinking about the child.”

  “Max?”

  “Yes. Juanita tells me that his mother has run off and is unlikely to return for the boy. He’s hardly Chet Hunter’s responsibility, although according to Nita the man seems determined to provide for him.”

  “Chet is a good man.”

  Her mother opened her eyes and, for the first time in months, peered closely at her daughter. “You have feelings for this man?”

  “I… Why would you think that?”

  “It’s there in your voice—the way you say his name.” She sat forward, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, Maria, have you found love at long last?”

  Love? Yes, but did Chet love her?

  “I… Mama, really it’s…”

  “Now you listen to me, young lady, we do not get a second chance in this world—not at love. The one thing your father and I wanted for all you children was that one day you might find what we knew. Is this the man for you? I can’t say—only you can know that. But if he is, then let nothing stand in your way.”

  “He has dreams of his own, Mama. How fair would it be to expect him to give those up? And besides, I know he believes that he has nothing to offer me.”

  “Then he’s a fool, and from what I have observed and heard of this young man, he is no fool.”

  “We were speaking of the child—of Max.”

 
“Yes, I know. I think we should take him in. Do you think Chet might be all right with that? I quite enjoy having a child in the house once again. It helps me… It…” Her eyes brimmed with the tears that were never far from spilling.

  Maria could hardly believe what she was hearing. If they adopted Max, and they convinced him that he’d be welcome here no matter if he’d started as a hand or not, then Chet would not need to leave after all. It was the perfect solution. She covered her mother’s hand with hers. “Let’s talk to Doc Wilcox at the party tonight. There may be some legalities involved.”

  Constance smiled. “Yes, the party. We should go and get ready.” She touched Maria’s hair. “Wear your hair down, dear. Men love that.”

  When Maria went to her room, she saw that her sister had hung their dresses on hooks near the door and placed a rainbow of ribbons and other hair ornaments on the dresser they shared. Amanda’s voice drifted in through the open window.

  “But, Javier, we need more candles. There must be more somewhere. Did you look in the barn and the bunkhouse?”

  Maria smiled. Amanda was in her element when it came to planning social gatherings. Maria, on the other hand, was uncomfortable in such settings. She fingered the blue dress that Amanda and Eliza had talked her into buying, recalling how it had felt light as air when she’d tried it on.

  In just a few hours, she would be wearing that dress and sharing her first real dance with Chet. She closed her eyes, imagining the scene—the music, the cool night breeze, the candlelight, his hand spanning her waist, his breath only a kiss away from her lips.

  “Oh good, you’re finally back,” Amanda said as she entered the room and plopped down on her bed. “This party will be the death of me yet,” she moaned.

  Maria laughed. “You love it and we all know it.” She waited a beat and then added. “Amanda, everything worked out. We’ve got every reason to celebrate.”

  Amanda sat up. “We’re not losing the ranch?”

  Maria told her all about how the small ranchers had decided to form their own co-op. “With our combined resources, we can stand toe-to-toe with Jasper Tipton, and we can beat him at his own game.”

  Amanda clapped her hands like the delighted child that she was. “Oh, Maria, I just knew you would find a way to make everything all right.” Then she frowned. “I’m afraid I have some news that might upset you though. It’s about Roger—and that woman.”

  “I know all about that. It’s all for the best, don’t you think?”

  Amanda grinned. “I do. Now you and Chet can—”

  Maria wasn’t ready to talk about her feelings for Chet, so she changed the subject. “Speaking of Chet, Mama wants to adopt little Max.”

  The news worked. Amanda immediately began mentally rearranging the sleeping arrangements in the house to accommodate the baby. “Of course, eventually he and Trey can share that room—I mean now that Jess is gone.” She sighed heavily. “It’s been months since Mama had had a letter from Jess, and Addie Wilcox hasn’t heard from him at all.”

  “Addie may need to move on. Our brother is an idiot to let a woman like that slip through his fingers, but you know Jess—he has a mind of his own and will do what he wants whether or not it’s the wisest choice.”

  “Well, the least he could do is write to Mama. I sure hope we can make this business with taking in little Max work. It would take Mama’s mind off Papa dying and Jess leaving and…”

  Maria realized that Amanda and Trey—and her mother for that matter—knew nothing of the arrest of Marshal Tucker or the fact that Isaac Porterfield’s death had not been the accident they’d all been led to believe. People were bound to be talking about Tucker’s arrest at the party.

  “Amanda, I have some news. It’s upsetting, but I need you to stay calm and help me break it to Mama and to Trey.”

  Nineteen

  Chet took a good bit of ribbing from the other cowhands once he washed up and dressed for the party in his new blue shirt. “Don’t know what you boys are carrying on about,” he said with a grin. “Looks to me like I’m not the only one.”

  “Just the first time me and the others have seen you in anything this fancy,” Bunker said. “You’re looking more like one of the ranchers than one of us hands.”

  It was an exaggeration, but Chet took it as the compliment he knew Bunker meant it to be and gave the older man a little bow. Bunker picked up his fiddle while Dusty pulled his harmonica from his vest pocket and played a scale. They would provide the music for the dancing. They heard the creak of wagon wheels outside and the combined chatter of people greeting one another as the guests began to arrive.

  “Well, boys,” Bunker boomed, “sounds like we got ourselves a party to git started. Let’s go.”

  The barn and yard were crowded with people—some Chet knew but most he didn’t. Rico pointed out the other ranchers, then left him the minute he spotted Louisa Johnson, slicking his dark hair back with both hands as he went to her.

  From the minute he’d left the bunkhouse, Chet had kept his eye out for Maria, but there’d been no sign of her. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Amanda or Mrs. Porterfield either. When he spotted Trey coming out of the house, he worked his way through clusters of guests until he reached the boy.

  “Nice party, Snap,” he observed.

  Trey frowned. “You shoulda told me about my pa, Hunt. I’m not a baby. In fact, right now, I’m the man of this family and I shoulda known. I shoulda…”

  Chet could see the kid was close to tears, so he stepped in front of him to shield him from the other guests. “You’re right, Snap. But the thing of it is that everything came together so fast, there was no time to bring you in on it. But this thing’s not over by a long shot. Your ma and your sisters are gonna need you to be strong for them. There will be a trial and folks are gonna be talking. The way I see it, your job is to set an example.”

  He sniffed and wiped his nose with his shirtsleeve. “I don’t get your meaning.”

  “I didn’t ever have the pleasure of knowing your pa, Snap, but everything I’ve heard about him tells me he was a fine man, a man folks around these parts looked up to and respected. Maybe you need to ask yourself what he would have done in your shoes.”

  Trey stared at Chet for a moment. “He always used to tell me most of the time fighting didn’t solve anything,” he said softly. “When I was sick, he used to come into my room at night and sit with me and talk about the ranch and all the stuff he’d had to think about that day. He used to ask me what I thought—even when I was just a kid.”

  “That tells me he respected you,” Chet said. “And one thing I know for sure—any man would be prouder than he could say of the way you helped out with the herd this season. I expect if there’s a heaven and your pa’s up there looking down on everything, he’s got a big ol’ grin on his face and he just nudged God and said, ‘That’s my boy there.’”

  Trey ducked his head, but he was smiling. Chet wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Now what do you say we go get some of those burritos before they’re all gone?”

  They started across the yard and Chet saw Juanita with a tray of glasses headed for the tables that had been set up to hold the food. “Here, let me take those for you, ma’am,” Chet offered.

  Juanita handed him the tray and scowled. “Still trying to wheedle your way onto my good side, I see.” But then she grinned. “Stick around, and it might just be starting to work.”

  “Glad to hear that.” He glanced toward the house. “Have you—”

  “She’ll be along directly. She had some news she had to give her mama and sister and brother. She’s getting dressed now, I expect, so just be patient. I see you’re looking mighty pretty yourself, cowboy.” The woman actually winked at him, and Chet felt his neck heat up.

  As he set the tray of glasses on the table, one by one, the clusters of guests stopped ta
lking and turned their attention to a lone rider coming slowly toward the ranch.

  “Can’t be,” he heard one woman say.

  “But it is, I tell you,” replied another.

  George Johnson studied the rider and then let out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be jiggered. The prodigal son returns.” And then he started walking toward the rider. “Jess Porterfield,” Johnson shouted, “you are a sight for sore eyes.”

  * * *

  Maria had tried several different ribbons to hold her hair back from her face. She had followed her mother’s advice and left it down, but she’d be helping serve their guests and dancing—with Chet she hoped—and she didn’t want to be brushing wisps away from her eyes and cheeks.

  “Here, let me,” Amanda said, her voice subdued after hearing the news of the how their father had died. “Do you think Mama will be all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “She was so quiet after you told her. I was afraid maybe she would—”

  “Mama is strong, Amanda. She just needs to work this through in her head, and then just like before, she’ll come out of it.”

  Amanda’s fingers worked magic, weaving the ribbon into a hank of Maria’s hair until it formed a slender braid that, with the ribbons, almost looked like a crown. “There. You look like a princess. Now let’s go join the party before anything else happens.”

  But Amanda had spoken too soon. When the two sisters reached the yard, they were surprised to see most of their guests gathered around a horse tied up outside the house. But then they saw a familiar head of thick, chestnut-colored hair and heard a laugh they had thought they might never hear again, and they both took off running.

  “Jessie!” Amanda squealed as the crowd parted. Their older brother scooped Amanda up and swung her around.

  “Look at you,” he said. “I go away for five minutes and you go and grow up into a beauty.” He set her down and his expression sobered. “Hello, Maria.”

  It was as if everyone around her was holding his breath. Maria ignored the jumble of emotions assaulting her at the sight of her brother and opened her arms to him. “Welcome home, Jess.”