Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter (26 page)

“You mustn't mind 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…

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.

“Now you pull yourself together, Jess,” his mother ordered as the dance ended. “The culprit—Marshal Tucker—is in custody at Fort Lowell. This is a matter for Colonel Ashwood and his men to handle and you need to stay out of it. Is that clear?”

He slapped at a biting bug that attacked his neck. Some things, he realized—like the bugs and the dust and the underhanded Tipton boys doing whatever they found necessary to control the territory—did not change. “Tucker? But what kind of beef could he have had with Pa?”

His mother looked away and then back at him. She linked her arm through his, but it was less a gesture of consolation than one that felt as if she were trying to make sure he stayed put. “You'll hear it soon enough, so it may as well be from me. At least then you know you're getting the truth of it. Tucker was working with the Tipton brothers. It appears that he decided to take matters into his own hands when your father refused to sell. I suspect he hoped he would endear himself to the Tiptons with his actions.”

“You're saying they had nothing to do with this?”

“I'm saying that there is no evidence that points to that. I am saying that Tucker is in custody and Colonel Ashwood assures me that he will be tried and punished to the full extent of the law.”

“But what about…”

“Now you listen to me, Jessup Porterfield, I have lost my husband and I will not lose my oldest son in the bargain. So you just contain that temper of yours and let the colonel handle this. If the Tiptons are involved, then they will be arrested.”

“
If?
Ma, we both know—”

“No, Son, we don't
know
anything. We suspect, but we do not know, so stay out of it and let the federal authorities do their job. If you're so all-fired interested in taking up the law, talk to Doc. With the arrest of Tucker, Whitman Falls is in need of a new marshal. Now then, speaking of the Wilcox family, they just struck up a
ranchera
and it looks to me like Addie Wilcox is just itching to get out on that dance floor.”

She gave him a nudge and went off to dance the reel with his younger brother, Trey, who waved at Jess and grinned as if Jess had just come back from a day on the range, not six months gone with no word.

Disoriented, Jess turned and saw Addie Wilcox tapping her toe in time to the music. He pushed aside the chilling news, his anger, everything, and focused on the one thing he knew he could depend on.

But was that still true?

He studied her. She wanted to dance, all right. Question was would she dance with him? After all, he hadn't just left Whitman Falls and his family's ranch; he had left Addie as well.

Jess crossed the yard, nodding to friends and neighbors as he threaded his way through those watching the dancing. “Welcome home, Jess,” he heard more than one of the women say. “Learned your lesson, did you?” He expected he was going to hear that sentiment more than once.

Addie had to be hearing this and she had to be aware that he was making his way toward her, but she refused to acknowledge him. Clearly she hadn't changed a bit in the months since he'd left. She was every bit as stubborn and mule-headed as she'd always been. He ought to just turn right around and ignore her. He ought to ask Sybil Sinclair to dance and see how Addie liked that. He ought to do half a dozen things…but he didn't.

“Evenin',” he muttered, sidling up next to her. He kept his eyes on the dancers. “Good to see Mama looking better,” he added.

“No thanks to you,” she replied as she took up clapping her hands in time with the beat.

He bristled. Addie had this way of saying exactly what was needed to get under his skin. “Meaning what?” Of course, he knew what she was saying—knew what probably everybody there was thinking.
The prodigal son.
He'd seen more than one person's lips murmuring those words as they had watched his mother come running to welcome him back—as she had enfolded him in her embrace.

“I asked you a question, Addie.”

“Rhetorical, I'm sure.” She kept right on clapping and tapping her toes, smiling at the dancers as they passed by.

“Don't you go throwing around those fancy words with me,
Doctor
Wilcox.”

“And don't you go playing like you're some uneducated country bumpkin, Jess Porterfield. You owe that much respect to your parents.” Her smile tightened. “Besides, I'm not a doctor for real—not yet.”

He had to clench his fist to keep from touching her bare forearm below the lace trim of her dress, comforting her as he had in the past whenever she got discouraged. “You wanna dance or not?” he grumbled, holding out his hand to her.

Just then the music finished on a crescendo and everybody applauded. “Looks like, as usual, your timing is perfect,” she said. She turned to go but was prevented from moving by the throng of dancers leaving the floor in search of some cider to quench their thirst. Jess decided to try a different tactic and moved a step closer. “Mama thinks I ought to apply for the marshal's job,” he said. “Your pa being head of the town council and all, do you think he might…”

She wheeled around and looked directly at him for the first time, her dark brown eyes large with surprise. “Are you serious? Why would Papa trust you? Why would
any
of us trust you not to up and leave again?”

“Addie, I had to…”

Her mouth worked as if finding and then rejecting words before she could spit them out at him. She held up her hands to stop him from saying anything more before she brushed past him, losing herself in the crowd. He glanced around to see others looking at him. Obviously they had witnessed the scene and were now passing judgment. The prodigal son. The disappointment. The failure. Well, he would show them. He would show all of them—even Addie—especially Addie.

The question was
how
. He could hardly take over here at the ranch. From the talk he'd had with George Johnson, it sure seemed like Maria had done a better job than he would have thought—or than he could have done—managing things on the Clear Springs Ranch. Maria had done an impossible job. In spite of the attempts of the Tipton Brothers Cattle and Land Company to buy out all the smaller ranchers in the area including—no, especially—theirs, Maria had found a way to hang on.

So, maybe he should think more seriously about applying for the lawman's job. After all, even though the local marshal had no jurisdiction over crimes that took place outside the town's borders, it would be a way he could look into the matter without raising suspicions. As head of the town council, Addie's father would be the one to hire a new marshal.

That gave Jess pause. No doubt Doc Wilcox would be as down on him as Addie was, so why bother? On the other hand, if he was going to bring the Tipton brothers to justice, he needed this job to give him the time and the cover he needed to track down the
real
killers. With Tucker behind bars at the fort, the town was in need of a new marshal. So if he played his cards right and kept his temper under control—a lesson he'd learned the hard way back in Kansas City—the job could be his. And besides, why
wouldn't
Doc Wilcox hire him? He'd make a fine marshal.