Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter (14 page)

By the time Maria had changed into her nightgown and braided her hair, Amanda was breathing evenly, sleeping soundly. Maria pulled back the covers on her bed next to the window. Across the way, she saw the glow of a lantern in the barn and wondered if Chet would get any rest. She was quite certain that she wouldn't.

* * *

He should have been straight with the whole Clear Springs crew from the start. He certainly should have confided in someone about the real reason he'd left Florida—perhaps Juanita or Eduardo. If he had, perhaps now he'd have someone on his side. The way things stood, everyone looked at him like he was something lower than the dirt and cow droppings he was cleaning off his boots. There was a second part to a cowboy's code when it came to women. Not only did a man treat them with respect, but he never ever left them to clean up a mess of his making. The worst of it was seeing how Maria avoided even looking at him. If only he had explained things to her. She had a way of bringing everybody around to seeing the truth of a matter. But he hadn't, and so when Loralei arrived toting the kid along with her, what other explanation could there be? Of course Maria believed Loralei—and why wouldn't she?

He unfolded the sketch that Trey had made of his sister and ran his finger over her features. How was he going to prove that Loralei was lying—and whose kid was it anyway? He'd barely glanced at the little tyke but had been aware that the boy was studying him with curiosity and no fear. He was a cute little thing, with big eyes and a toothless grin that would make a stone statue smile. The fact was that every time Chet thought of the kid at all, it just fueled his anger at Loralei. Whatever stunt she was trying to pull here, dragging an innocent child into her scheme was a new low even for her.

He refolded the drawing, placed it back in his shirt pocket, and had just opened the book Javier had brought him when he heard a sound just outside the partially closed barn door. “Who's there?” he called, his fingers inching toward his pistol.

A woman slipped through the opening. She was dressed in nightclothes. In the dark, he couldn't be sure, but he couldn't help but hope. “Maria?” he said softly.

The harsh laugh that answered him told him he was wrong. “Don't you just wish,” Loralei said as she moved closer. “Hello, Chester,” she murmured.

“Loralei, I…”

“You what?” she said, her voice sultry as she pulled the dressing gown off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving her standing there in a thin nightgown. She'd left her hair wild and free and the ribbons at her neckline untied. He could see the roundness of her breasts and the silhouette of her nakedness as she stepped between him and the lantern. “You gonna shoot me, Chet?” she whispered, nodding toward the gun.

He released his hold on it. On the one hand, he felt sorry for her, but trying to seduce him was just not going to work. He stood up and picked up her robe, then placed it around her shoulders. “This isn't right, Loralei. You know that. I said I would help you, but don't read into that any more than there is.”

She kicked at him—a kick as ineffectual as her attempts at seduction. “You mean
she
might see me? Is that the problem here? Is that why you've holed up out here pretending there's nothing between us?”

“There is nothing between us, Loralei.”

“We have a son.”

“You know that's not true. You have a son, but I am not that boy's father.” He thought about Maria's mother and her refusal to believe her husband was dead. Was it like that? Did Loralei truly believe that he was the father? “Now tell me what really happened, so we can figure out what to do.”

She pulled her robe into place and sat down on a hay bale. He sat across from her on the barn floor. “Start at the beginning,” he urged.

She released a long, heavy sigh…and relented. “I don't know what to do, Chet. The night before he came to wake you and force you into that shotgun marriage, Daddy caught me with another man—a friend of his. That man is married, and there's no way that…” She was starting to blubber, and he felt such pity for her. “You were always so kind to me, Chet—to everyone. I know you must hate me, but we were always friends. I could always count on you to see me through the rough times, so I told Daddy I was seeing you as well, and that you might marry me to save my reputation.” She grasped his forearm. “Please,” she begged.

“Loralei, you need to go home to Florida. Your pa will forgive you, and he'll find a way to explain everything so that you come out fine.”

“
No
. You don't understand,” she moaned. “After you left and he realized I was with child, I told him it was yours. He got so upset that he and Mama sent me away to have little Chester, and at first it seemed like everything was going to work out—you were gone and everyone thought I had been abandoned. Then Daddy got a letter asking about you, telling him you were here. He was ready to send a bunch of men to hunt you down. He was that mad. I thought for sure he would have you hurt. So I begged him to give us a chance. I said I would come with the baby, and I just knew you would do the right thing by both of us.”

Chet had never felt more trapped. His instinct was to run—take Cracker and just keep going. Loralei's father was a powerful man with powerful contacts who could hunt him down—who could have him killed and no one would ever know the truth of it. He had to be told the truth—that Chet had never touched his daughter—or Chet might always be running.

“I'll do what I can, Loralei, but I can't marry you.”

Loralei's full mouth tightened into a thin, hard line as she stood up. “If you're thinking you have a chance with that woman, think again, cowboy. Maybe I'll just pay her a call. She's got quite a soft spot for a sad tale, and little Chester has won her heart,” she said and headed for the barn door. She slid it open just as he caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and spun her around so that their faces were inches apart.

“Leave her out of this. This is between you and me, and if you want my help, you will treat Maria and the members of her household with the utmost respect, understood? They are not your servants. You will pull your weight around here, caring for that boy as any mother would—should.”

She struggled to pull free of him, and he tightened his hold on her. “Say you understand, Loralei, or I'll leave you to this mess you made. I'll go somewhere neither you or your daddy will ever find me.”

“You're hurting me,” she whimpered.

He loosened his grip. “Promise,” he growled.

“All right, but—”

“No but's. These are my terms. Accept them or go home.”

Her eyes widened in pure panic. “Daddy will never—”

“You let me worry about your pa. You came here looking for help. I'm offering it but, Loralei, this picture you've made up in your head of you, me, and your son living happily ever after is not real. I can be your friend, but that is all I ever was or will be.”

Her eyes filled with genuine tears, and he saw that she was truly scared. He gentled his hold on her, brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead. She could be selfish and cruel, but there was goodness there too—and she had lived such a hard life under the thumb of a ruthless man. “Get some sleep, Loralei. We'll work this out somehow.”

She walked away, still sniffling, and he watched her until a movement in one of the windows toward the back of the main house caught his attention: the room Maria shared with her sister. He couldn't help but wonder if the letter Loralei's father had received had come from Maria, checking up on him. It made sense. He certainly wouldn't have blamed her. After all, she was a woman trying to run a ranch. Why on earth would she take on some drifter all the way from Florida without checking him out? And why on earth had he been foolish enough to think—even for a moment—that she might have feelings for him as he did for her?

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.