Read Online Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter by Anna Schmidt - Free Book Online Page B

saddle in ways that passed the time without jeopardizing the work. Sometimes he worked out little songs in his head—silly little ditties about his surroundings or a calf who refused to go along with the herd. Sometimes he thought about the people he’d left behind in Florida—friends he missed, family he might never see again. Sometimes he wrote letters to his sister, Kate—his only close family—who lived with their aunt and uncle. Often he carried on a conversation with Cracker, and all the while he kept watch, his senses on alert for some sound, scent, or movement that seemed misplaced.
    He chose to ride his own horse when he could but was equally at home on any one of the ranch’s quarter horses. Usually he left the reins slack, looped around the horn of his saddle, his hands free to write his letter or lines of a song or devour an apple or piece of jerky he’d brought along. Chet didn’t smoke or chew tobacco—never could understand the attraction of either one. Besides he was saving his money—what little there was of it. He had plans. They were little more than dreams now, but some day…
    Cracker let out a short bark and sniffed the air to the east. Chet pocketed his paper and stub of a pencil and shifted in the saddle to watch the horizon behind him. As he did, he scanned the herd—saw the other hands going about their business, saw a whisper of smoke rising from the cook wagon Eduardo had set up in a grove of trees near the river—and decided to wait and see what was coming before raising a false alarm. He watched a puff of dust blossom and then settle as the lone rider became fully visible. Instantly he knew the rider was Maria. How he knew that he couldn’t say, but he had the oddest sensation of pleasure at the sight of her. He shook off that feeling. He’d gotten himself mixed up with a woman before. It was the main reason he’d left Florida. “Leave the ladies to someone else, Hunter,” he muttered, but Cracker continued to stand at attention, tail wagging and eyes riveted on Maria’s horse.
    Chet couldn’t seem to help himself, and he too watched as Maria rode up to the cook wagon, slid off her horse, and spoke with Eduardo for several minutes. He saw her scan the range, then remount and head toward the cowboy positioned closest to the cook wagon. Rico raised his hat in greeting as Maria reined up beside him. He and Chet had teamed up—one on either side of this section of the herd, Chet riding the Tipton fence line while Rico took the other side. Other pairs of cowboys from the other ranches had taken up similar positions until the entire area was patrolled. At this point, the stock from several smaller ranches was mixed in together, but Chet knew that by week’s end, they would need to start the process of separating out the Porterfield stock that still needed branding.
    He watched the exchange of conversation between Rico and Maria, although he could hear nothing. They spoke for several minutes. Apparently she was able to get more conversation out of the young man than any hand—even Bunker—could spark when the men were all together in the bunkhouse. Rico was a couple years younger than the next youngest hand, and Chet remembered how that felt. He expected that the others had played some nasty tricks on the kid when he first joined their ranks, in spite of the fact that he was the son of the Porterfields’ housekeeper. And from what he’d observed of the young man, he doubted Rico had seen the humor in those tricks—or realized that they were the men’s way of saying he was accepted as one of them.
    Still, even though Chet could not hear the conversation, there were signs that Maria had a talent for drawing the boy out—even making him laugh. After a while, she turned her horse’s head and rode on, waving to Rico as she left.
    He realized that she was coming toward him, slowly weaving her