Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter Read Online Free PDF

kitchen door, rainwater running off his hat and his beard soaked. “I have to give the fella from Florida his due. He was something to see the way he cracked that whip of his and turned the herd.” He stroked his beard, and his eyes softened. “Sorry now that I was so hard on him earlier.”
    â€œWhere is Mr. Hunter? I’d like to thank him.”
    â€œHe took off once we’d calmed the herd and made the best count we could. Didn’t say nothing—just waved his hat and started riding west like the very devil was after him.”
    Maria did not want to admit how disappointed she was. She’d spent some time thinking about him while she and Trey had milked the dairy cows, waiting for the men to return and report the damage. She’d thought about the way he’d spoken to her and Eduardo when he’d first arrived and about how he’d been credited with making a difference when it came to stopping the stampede…and mostly about how Amanda had described his eyes. They sparkle. She was more than a little annoyed at herself for wishing she could get a look at those eyes.
    * * *
    Chet had gotten next to no sleep, and his eyes were bleary, making it hard to focus. He could see that it was raining in the distance—probably at the Porterfield ranch, but he was miles from there and the sky was clear. The dust that the wind was whipping up kept him from seeing more than a foot in front of his horse’s nose, and the fact was that the missing cows were almost the same color as the landscape. According to Bunker’s best guess, a steer and two calves were still missing. Bunker and the other hands seemed willing to accept the losses as normal, apparently satisfied that they had rounded up most of the herd and the damage was not too great. But Chet didn’t like leaving even one animal behind. Not knowing their fate ate at him.
    Cracker scouted ahead, then ran back, tail wagging. She knew the drill but not the territory, and she was being extra cautious. After an hour with no luck, Chet turned away from the river and the terrain changed from parched grassland to barren dry rock formations that jutted up out of the land as if they’d exploded. Chet thought he heard something, and Cracker turned and sniffed the air to their left.
    There it was again. The bleating cry told Chet it was one of the calves, and he gently kneed his horse’s sides, at the same time signaling Cracker to approach with caution. They wound their way around an outcropping of jagged rocks and there stood the calf, none the worse for his adventure but obviously scared and confused. Chet loosed his rope from the back of his saddle and dismounted.
    â€œHey there, young man,” he said, keeping his voice low and soft and forming his noose as he approached. The calf backed away and let out another loud bleat for help. “Your mama’s probably back at the ranch by now. How ’bout we go find her?” He swung the rope once and let it fall right over the calf’s head and neck. The calf startled and turned to run, but Cracker was right there. Chet hung on, planting his boot heels in the dirt. “Whoa there, my little friend.”
    It took less than five minutes for him to gain control of the calf and mount up again to continue the search. He doubted that the steer would go along as easily…if he even found it.
    Another hour, then two. The sun had reached its peak, and Chet drained the last of his water. He hadn’t bothered to refill it before turning away from the river. In fact, he’d not filled it last night before turning in, distracted by the way the day had gone. He’d been more concentrated on brushing down his horse and ridding Cracker of the dust and dirt of their journey. Then he’d washed up and put on a clean shirt, thinking all the time about how he might best approach Maria Porterfield, who seemed—in spite of her gender and the fact that she