Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter

by Anna Schmidt

  Behind her, she heard a cry, and they all turned to see Constance Porterfield running across the yard, her skirts clutched in one hand as she reached for her eldest son with the other. Jess smiled and went to her. “Kill the fatted calf, Ma. I’ve come home to stay.”

  And suddenly Maria found that she could no longer ignore the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She was so overcome with emotion that she felt as if she might faint, but then she felt a hand on her elbow and the solid presence of Chet Hunter standing next to her.

  “Let the dancing begin,” Constance shouted, and Bunker struck up a tune as everyone stood back and made room for mother and son to waltz. And as others joined Constance and Jess, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Maria to turn to Chet.

  * * *

  Chet couldn’t help but think that just maybe with her brother back, Maria might be more open to the idea of heading to California with him, and he was confused that Maria seemed to be more upset about Jess’s return than she was happy.

  “Nice surprise, Jess showing up that way,” he ventured.

  Maria glanced at her mother and brother and then forced a smile. “Yes, isn’t it?”

  “Talk to me, Maria. You’re looking more like somebody who just lost the ranch than a woman who has saved the day and now capped that off with her brother coming home.”

  “I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Her tone was defensive, her posture stiff. “I mean, look how happy Mama is.”

  But when Chet looked over at the other couple, Constance Porterfield was not smiling. She seemed to be deep in conversation with her wayward son, and Jess was looking mighty uncomfortable. All of a sudden, Mrs. Porterfield called out, “Change partners!” and steered Jess to dance with Maria while she waited for Chet to take his cue and dance with her.

  It was one thing to dance with Maria. He knew her. This woman now smiling up at him was pretty much a stranger. “We have a good deal of business we need to work out, Mr. Hunter,” she said.

  He thought he knew what was coming—she didn’t want him hanging around Maria, and now that her son had returned, there was no reason for him to hang around at all. He tried to prepare some kind of answer and almost missed what she really had to say.

  “I admire what you have done in accepting responsibility for little Ches…Max. Juanita tells me that the child is not yours and that Loralei used you, even put you in a dangerous position with her father, in order to save face.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I do not know your plans, Mr. Hunter, but I would like to make a suggestion—several actually.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Max has a home here if you will accept that for him. His presence was instrumental in bringing me through the worst of my…illness.”

  “That’s very kind of you, ma’am.”

  She smiled. “Oh, Mr. Hunter, you will learn in time that I always have reasons for what I do.”

  Chet was completely confused now. What possible value could Max have for her? He frowned. “I don’t guess I’m getting your meaning, ma’am.”

  “It may have seemed like I was living in the clouds these last weeks, Chester—may I call you Chester?”

  Chet nodded.

  “But I am a keen observer of people, and over the last few weeks, I have observed the effect you have had on the people living on this ranch—the other hands, my younger son, and Maria—especially Maria.”

  Okay, here it came. Cowhands and members of the rancher’s family they worked for did not mix—at least not romantically speaking. Chet gave her the only answer he had. “I love your daughter, Mrs. Porterfield. It wasn’t meant to be, but it’s there, and I’ll do whatever you think best for her happiness.”

  “Well, finally, a man not afraid to speak his mind or his feelings. Good for you, Chester. I had the feeling that you weren’t a bit like that mealymouthed, blustering fool Roger Turnbull.”

  Now Chet was struck speechless and the expression on his face must have been pretty comical because Mrs. Porterfield laughed. “You’re a good deal like my late husband, Chet. He was everything to me, and it has taken me some time to understand how I might go on without him. But I see now that making sure our children find that same true love that he and I shared—that’s my job now. And I plan to start with Maria.”

  “Well now, ma’am—”

  “Maria has finally met her match in you, Chester, and I aim to see that she doesn’t spoil that.” She glanced across the yard to where Maria and her brother were having a heated conversation near the refreshment table.

  “I’m not sure—”

  Mrs. Porterfield tightened her grip on his hand. “Now you listen to me, Chester Hunter, you say you love my daughter, and if I am any judge at all of such things—and I assure you that I am—she is madly in love with you. Are you truly going to keep drifting around the country when you have everything you’ve been searching for right here?”

  Chet could not control the grin that spread across his face. “Well now, ma’am, when you put it that way, I don’t see how I can refuse.”

  “Good. Now let’s go get some punch and break up the squabble going on between Maria and her brother. Those two were always like two dogs fighting over one bone.”

  Trey had said the exact same thing. “There is the matter of little Max,” Chet ventured.

  “Max is part of the package as far as I can see. As long as you choose to have a home here, so does he. And you will always have a home here. Now come along before those two start throwing punches.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  “You weren’t here,” Maria hissed. “I did the best I could, Jess.”

  “Selling out to the other ranchers is your best? Well, it’s better than selling out to the Tiptons. I’ll give you that much. Maybe it’s not too late to fix this.”

  “Fix what, dear?” Their mother stepped between them, and Maria saw that Chet was standing just behind her.

  “Mama, I know Pa’s death—”

  “Actually you know very little about your father’s death, Jess. It was Maria who finally figured it out. Your father was murdered, Jess. The culprit is in custody.”

  “The Tiptons?” Jess had gone so red in the face that Maria feared he might actually explode.

  “No, although I suspect they are behind the whole business, but we have no proof of that. All indications are that your father was murdered by Marshal Tucker. He has been relieved of his duties, of course.” She studied her son for a long moment and then smiled. “Perhaps you would like to take on the job of town marshal, Jess. It would certainly give you opportunities for more frequent contact with Addie Wilcox and—”

  “Mama.” Jess touched her arm and lowered his voice. “I can’t be marshal. I have to run things here. I’ve come back to—”

  “Run the ranch?” Maria challenged. “Not while I’m here.”

  Jess opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out.

  Chet stepped forward and offered Jess his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Chet Hunter—I work for your sister here, and if you’ll excuse us, I kind of promised her this dance.”

  Behind them, Bunker struck up a lively tune and Maria’s mother smiled. “A reel—my favorite. Excuse me, I want to dance this one with Trey.” She turned to go and then grabbed Jess’s sleeve. “Addie Wilcox seems to be tapping her toe, Son. Perhaps her desire to dance will overrule her good sense, and she’ll accept your invitation.” She gave her son a light shove in Addie’s general direction, then winked at Chet as he led Maria to join the other dancers.

  The discomfort and shyness Maria felt once she and Chet were left alone—granted, in the middle of a throng of neighbors and friends—reminded her of that first day he had come riding down the trail and into her life.

  “You mustn’t m
ind Mama, Chet. She’s not been herself since—”

  “It seems to me that your mother is quite herself, and I’m beginning to think the apple didn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to you and her.” He took hold of her hand, but instead of joining the fast-moving square dance, he led her to a cluster of trees just outside the courtyard where Amanda had decorated the branches with candles set in canning jars.

  He wrapped his arms around her and tilted her chin so that she was looking up at him.

  “And just what did you and my mother talk about?”

  “Well, now sometimes you have to read between the lines with a woman like her, but I’m pretty sure she had in mind that maybe I should kiss you, so…”

  His lips were full and soft on hers, and the thought occurred to her that if this man were to kiss her a thousand times, she would never grow tired of it.

  “You know, your mama also had one other instruction—or maybe it was more of a suggestion.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Seems she thinks we make a good match. Seems she thinks one day you and me might just get married. What do you think of that?”

  Maria couldn’t help it. She laughed and took a step away from him. “Chester Hunter, if that is your idea of a proposal, it needs work.”

  “I can do better,” he protested when she started to back away from him.

  “Good,” she said, her voice still filled with laughter. “You practice up, and we’ll try this again one day. Now…”

  He pulled her back into his arms and tightened his hold on her. His lips were so close to her face that every word carried his breath mingled with her own.

  “Marry me, Maria, and I promise you I will spend every minute of every day doing my darnedest to give you the life and love that is everything you have ever wanted and more.”

  They both went absolutely still, surrounded by sounds they barely heard—the music, Bunker calling the steps of the reel, people laughing and talking and enjoying themselves…and the rhythm of their breaths.

  “Now that’s what I call a proposal—one I will most happily accept,” she whispered just before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Please enjoy a sneak peek at Anna Schmidt’s

  Last Chance Cowboys: The Lawman

  FROM THE AUTHOR…

  Sometimes characters I think are minor speak up. (Sometimes they pretty much grab me by the shoulders and shout, “I want to tell my story!”) That was the case with Dr. Addie Wilcox. So when her childhood sweetheart and love of her life, Jess Porterfield, returns at the end of The Drifter, I knew what the second book in the series would be. In The Lawman, Addie has to fight her lifelong attraction to Jess, determined that he won’t break her heart again. Trouble is, once he gets appointed to serve as the town marshal and is pretty much living down the street from Addie and her family, avoiding his good looks, charming smile, and determination to win her heart becomes pretty much impossible.

  The story of Addie and Jess is all about first love and second chances. Here’s an excerpt that I hope sends you running to the store or your computer to read more…

  One

  Arizona Territory, 1882

  The prodigal son comes home, Jess thought, hesitating on the ridge overlooking the Porterfield spread.

  Six months gone, and finally he had come home. But he might as well have kept on riding. In the relatively short time that he’d been away, everything about the Clear Springs Ranch, the town of Whitman Falls—indeed, the entire Arizona Territory—seemed foreign. Wrong. As if after his time on the streets of Kansas City, he no longer fit the brush and red mesas of the land he’d always been told was in his blood.

  Jess set his jaw and pressed on. As he rode slowly up the trail that led to his family’s home, he saw the adobe house that his father had built and added to through the years as the family had grown. He expected to find his mother, two sisters, and younger brother inside gathered round the table in the kitchen. He expected to hear laughter coming from the bunkhouse. Instead, the annual party his parents always hosted after the livestock had been taken to market was in full swing. The courtyard of the house was packed with people—some he recognized and some who were strangers. Everyone seemed to be in the mood to celebrate, which made no sense given that the ranch had been about to fail the day he’d left.

  Back then, the situation had been dire on all fronts. His father had just died in what appeared to be a freak accident. A drought that had gone on for over a year threatened to send the family and the ranch into bankruptcy. His mother had been so consumed by her grief that she refused to believe her husband was truly gone. And he was ashamed to admit that he had left his sister, Maria, on her own to fend off the land-grabbing Tipton brothers who were intent on owning the rest of the land in the territory.

  And yet there were lanterns lighting the courtyard and bonfires where guests gathered between dances to warm themselves on this autumn night. He had heard the music from some distance away, and now that he was closer, he heard the laughter and excited chatter of people enjoying themselves. So who was hosting this fandango? He half expected to see Jasper Tipton and his much younger wife, Pearl, playing the role of hosts. Surely Maria had had to surrender and sell out. Truth was, his father had barely been hanging on before he died. But it seemed most of the hired hands were here—including Bunker, who stood along with a couple of the other cowboys, stomping their feet in time to the music they produced from a worn fiddle and guitar and banjo. Just like old times.

  “Is that you, Jessie Porterfield?”

  Their nearest neighbor, George Johnson, waited for Jess to dismount and tie up his horse at the hitching post before grabbing him in a bear hug. “Good to have you home.”

  “Looks like there might have been some changes since I left,” Jess ventured.

  George laughed. “Point is things are pretty much the same only better. That sister of yours is quite the little businesswoman.”

  “You don’t say.” Jess felt the bile of his own failure rise in his throat. “So we still own this place?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Maria can fill you in, but the short version is that several of the smaller ranchers decided the only way to fight the Tiptons was to beat them at their own game. So we’ve banded together in a cooperative arrangement. We share the profits—and the debts. We help each other out. ’Course, having just come back from taking the stock to market, we’ve got a little time to get settled into this new arrangement, but you mark my words, by spring every small ranch in this territory will be holding its own.”

  So Maria had somehow managed to hold the Tipton brothers at bay and hang on to the ranch. Their father would be really proud—of her.

  “You’ve got a new foreman,” George continued. “A Florida boy—came drifting in here not long after you left. Went to work with the others and everyone’s pretty sure that him and Maria will be heading down the aisle before too long.” Jess was aware that several others had spotted him and a crowd was beginning to form as they pushed forward to listen to George.

  “What about Roger?”

  “He took off. Some think he might have been involved in that business with your pa. ’Course, there’s no proof, and he was a good foreman and all. Didn’t get along with the drifter though—not one bit.”

  “Jessie!” His younger sister, Amanda, squealed as the crowd parted to let her through. Jess scooped her up and swung her around.

  “Look at you,” he said, glad for the diversion. “I go away for five minutes and you go and grow up into a real beauty.” He set her down and his expression sobered when he saw his other sister standing at the edge of the crowd. “Hello, Maria.”

  He saw Maria hesitate as her expression ran through a range of emotions that went from anger to confusion to wariness. After what seemed like an eternity, she opened her arms to him. “Welcome home, Jess.”


  As he hugged her—and felt her hesitation even in her embrace—they all heard a shrill cry, and Jess looked up to see his mother running across the yard, her skirts clutched in one hand as she reached out for her eldest son with the other. Jess smiled and went to her. “Kill the fatted calf, Ma. I’ve come home to stay.”

  “Let the dancing begin,” his mother shouted, and the band struck up a lively tune as she pulled him into the center of the lanterns that outlined the dance floor.

  “You look older, Son,” she said, frowning as she studied his face closely.

  “And you’re still the prettiest woman around,” he countered, reluctant to get into the last few months.

  “Prettier than Addie Wilcox?”

  That was the one person he had not allowed himself to think about. His intent had been first to settle things with his family and then…

  “She waited for you to come to your senses, you know,” his mother continued. “Why didn’t you at least write to her?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Addie, Ma. It’s you I’ve come to see. How are you feeling?”

  She laughed. “Well, if you’re thinking that I’m the batty old woman you left six months ago, stop worrying. I needed some time. I’m still missing your father every minute of every day, but now that the culprit who murdered him is in—”

  Jess stumbled. “What are you saying, Ma? He died in an accident and…” Maybe she wasn’t better after all. His heart sank.

  She heaved a sigh of resignation. “Stop looking at me that way, Jessie. We’ve all had to face the hard truth of the matter.”

  Jess thought of what George Johnson had been saying when Amanda interrupted—something about there being no proof that their foreman, Roger Turnbull, had been involved in ‘that business with your pa.’ “Murdered?” he said, unable to take it all in. The news shook him to his boots. Could it be true that his father’s accident had been no accident at all—but cold-blooded murder? He was speechless—first with disbelief, and then growing rage.