Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter (25 page)

* * *

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.”

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 talking 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.”

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.