Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter

by Anna Schmidt

  “And we are also not discussing parties,” Maria said.

  They ate in silence for several minutes until Trey said, “What are we discussing then?” He glanced from one sister to the other. “Papa always said that food goes down better with good conversation so…”

  “So tell us what you drew while you were out on the trail,” Maria suggested. To her surprise, Trey frowned. Usually any discussion of his sketching elicited an immediate stream of conversation.

  “Roger didn’t want me drawing. He threw my sketchbook in the fire, but Hunt rescued it, and he carried it with him so Roger wouldn’t see that we had it.”

  Maria did not want to hear anything good about Chet at the moment. He was a scoundrel—a man who had deserted his family.

  “Wanna see?” Trey asked and did not wait for a reply as he ran to his room and returned a moment later with the sketchbook, the edges of the cover indeed scorched and blackened.

  In the mood she was in, the evidence of Roger’s damage to Trey’s beloved sketchbook only made her more upset. But Trey seemed unconcerned. He laid the pad on the table and began turning the pages. Even Amanda was impressed.

  “Trey, that looks so real, and look at Chet—that looks just like him. He is so handsome,” Amanda said dreamily.

  “He is also too old for you, possibly married, and apparently a father,” Maria grumbled, not able to resist taking a closer look at Trey’s sketch. It was Chet all right, sitting tall and proud astride his horse, his eyes fixed on some distant horizon. “Did you draw Eduardo?” she asked, determined to turn the attention away from the drifter.

  Trey turned a couple of pages and pointed to a small drawing of Eduardo. “He’s harder to get for some reason.”

  “I think it looks just like him,” Maria assured her brother. “You’ve really captured his smile.”

  Trey blushed with pleasure. “Maybe I’ll do a bigger sketch and give it to him.” He turned more pages and frowned. “I had one of you, Maria. That first night in the tent, remember? But it must have fell out.”

  “Fallen out,” she corrected, curious now to see how her brother had drawn her.

  Trey shrugged. “I can do another one.”

  “Not tonight,” Maria replied as she began gathering their supper dishes. “We’ve had a lot of excitement today, and what you need, young man, is a good night’s sleep in your own bed.”

  Trey grinned. “You sound just like Mama used to…” And then his voice trailed off and the smile disappeared.

  Maria rubbed his back. “Mama will come back to us, Trey. She just needs some more time.”

  “That’s what Hunt told me.”

  Amanda took the rest of the dishes to the dry sink and pumped water into the dishpan. “Well, I for one hope it’s sooner rather than later,” she announced. “Do you think reminding her about the party might help? After all, it was her idea.”

  “Give her a day or so,” Maria replied.

  “I could just throttle Roger Turnbull for telling her about Papa,” Amanda continued as she washed the dishes.

  “Once Mama is her old self again, she’ll realize that we need Roger to help run the ranch.” Maria needed to think about everything that had happened, and her sister prattling on about Roger was not helping.

  “Maybe he is good for the ranch,” Amanda said, “but Mama still won’t want him marrying you. She says the only reason to marry at all is for true love like she had with Papa.”

  It was true. Their mother had drummed that message into all four of her children, even Trey, who had looked mystified by the lecture and reminded her that he was only fourteen and unlikely to get married anytime soon.

  “Nobody is getting married, and this conversation is at its end,” Maria told Amanda as she picked up the dish towel and began drying the dishes that her sister had washed without being told to do so. “On another topic, you seem to be taking to this housework,” she teased.

  Amanda groaned. “What I have learned is that if I take on some task—of my choosing—then Nita doesn’t pester me.”

  Maria laughed. “That’s very smart.”

  “Oh, Maria, I am not nearly as dumb as you seem to think I am. For example—”

  “I don’t think you’re dumb at all—just young.”

  “I am four years younger than you are—and to continue, for example, I can see that this entire business with Chet and that woman has upset you. If you want my opinion, it’s that woman you shouldn’t trust, and you certainly shouldn’t be letting her stay here, and—”

  “I did not ask for your opinion, Amanda.”

  “Well, I’m giving it. Making Chet have to share space with that woman—”

  “She has a name,” Maria reminded her.

  “Oh yes, sweet Loralei,” Amanda said in a syrupy voice and then shuddered.

  “Chet’s not staying out there with her and the baby,” Trey announced. Both sisters had forgotten he was in the room. He’d been sketching again and so quiet.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I saw him take his bedroll into the barn, so I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was just setting up camp for the night. He asked if he could borrow one of my books to read.”

  “And?” Amanda demanded.

  Trey shrugged. “I kind of forgot until just now. I’ll take one out to him.”

  “No,” Maria said, “you get to bed.” She did not miss the way Trey and Amanda exchanged a look and how Amanda motioned for Trey to do as Maria said.

  “I could take a book out to him,” Amanda offered as she handed Maria the last dish to dry.

  “No, that wouldn’t look right. I’ll have Eduardo take it to him. You go check on Mama.”

  But Eduardo was sound asleep already, and Maria was reluctant to let Juanita wake him. “It’ll keep until morning,” she assured the housekeeper, who looked at the book under her arm and frowned.

  “What’s that?”

  “A book.”

  “Don’t be smart with me, mi hija. I know Trey said he was taking a book out to the barn. Is that the book?”

  Maria nodded.

  Juanita held out her hand, and Maria placed the book in it. “You go on to bed. I’ll have Javier take it to him. You got enough trouble without having people talking about you visiting that man in the middle of the night.”

  Maria smiled. “It’s hardly the middle of the night,” she protested.

  “It’s dark, and that’s as much night as there needs to be for gossip to grow. Now vamonos.”

  Maria knew the housekeeper was right. Besides, what was she thinking? She shouldn’t want to be anywhere near Chet these days, and yet all she seemed to think about was when she might see him again. She kissed Juanita’s weathered cheek and headed toward the door.

  “And don’t be sitting up all night with your mama either. I gave her some of that stuff Doc Wilcox left. She’ll sleep through the night and likely half the morning.”

  Maria envied the very thought of a night’s rest undisturbed by worry and tension, not to mention the carousel of questions whirling around in her brain. Whatever the matter appeared to be on the surface, there was something about Loralei that just did not fit with Chet. If she had thought at all about what kind of woman might attract him—and she refused to admit to herself that she had—it would not be someone so flighty and dramatic as Loralei. Chet was such a quiet man, soft-spoken and gentle. Of course, Maria’s mother had always warned her that people with opposing personalities and traits were often drawn to one another.

  “They complete each other,” Constance had once said, and then, with a wistful smile added, “as your father and I do.”

  But as different as they might be, her parents had always had much in common. That did not appear to be the case between Chet and Loralei. Of course, how would she know? She barely knew either of them. />
  “It is none of your business,” she told herself firmly. “As long as Chet does his job, his personal life should be no concern of yours or anyone else’s.” But oh, how it hurt knowing he had fathered a child—knowing he had loved another woman.

  She opened the bedroom door and saw Amanda sitting at the dressing table they shared. “Well?” her sister demanded, her eyebrows arched. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nita gave Mama a sedative, so she should sleep through the night.”

  “I am not asking about Mama and you know it. What about that woman and her child and Chet?”

  “As I told you before, that woman has a name, Amanda. Show some respect.”

  “Don’t snap at me when it’s Chet you’re mad at.”

  “I have no reason to be upset with Chet. He’s done his job, and that is all that matters. If he continues to do his job then—”

  “Are you blind?” Amanda held her hairbrush suspended inches from her head. “The man likes you. More than likes you, and frankly, I think the two of you make a far better match than you and Roger do.”

  “Chet is…” She paused. She had been about to say that he was married, but that seemed to be the one thing that he and Loralei agreed upon. “He has a child.”

  Amanda resumed brushing her hair. “So she says. He denies it. Who do you believe?”

  “It is none of my business—or yours,” Maria replied wearily. “Now is there any chance we might get some sleep?”

  Amanda put down the brush and plaited her hair into one long braid as she turned to face her sister. “I just want you to be happy, Maria,” she said softly.

  Embarrassed by Amanda’s concern, Maria laughed and cupped her sister’s chin. “What makes you think I’m not?”

  “Because I’m afraid you’ll be willing to settle for someone like Roger Turnbull instead of opening your heart and mind to the possibility of true love.”

  “What a thing to say. I’m not—”

  “The only person Roger Turnbull will ever truly love is himself. Mama sees that even when she’s half out of her mind.” She got up and climbed into bed. “Think about it, Maria. True love versus second fiddle.” She rolled onto her side. “Good night.”

  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 sa
d 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?