The Return Of The Drifter

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The Return Of The Drifter - book excerpt

Prologue

Casey was in her pajamas and ready for bed as the introduction theme for her father’s favorite western, The Drifter, began to thunder from the old television with its wire rabbit ears bent in the direction to pick up the best signal. Her father came in from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of Pepsi in his hand. Casey frowned up as the man settled into his white faux leather recliner with the cold drink, knowing he wouldn’t offer it to any of his offspring. Children in the Casper home were only allowed Kool-Aid and only during daylight hours in the kitchen or outside where they couldn’t make a mess. Pepsi was a treat only for adults.

“Now, you kids be quiet while Daddy’s show is on,” her father snarled as he made himself comfortable, set the Pepsi on the table next to his full ashtray, and lit another cigarette, “or I’ll tan your hides with my belt and send you to bed early.”

Casey and her younger brothers and sister sat quietly, knowing his threats weren’t made in jest. They’d all seen that belt come flying out of the loops at lightning speed and suffered the consequences of interrupting one of their father’s favorite shows.

The baby in Casey’s bedroom began to cry. “Get your lazy ass up and tend to your little sister, Casey,” her father ordered. “Put a bottle in her mouth and shut her up during my show.”

Casey got to her feet and plodded into the kitchen to find one of the bottles of breast milk her mother had left in the refrigerator before going to her job at the market up the street. She wouldn’t return home until after ten when the store closed, and seven-year-old Casey, as the oldest, was left responsible for feeding and changing baby Clea, now five months old. Casey prayed this would be her mother’s last baby. None of her friends at school had to change diapers or get up at two in the morning to feed a little sister or brother, and she didn’t think it was fair that she had to do it.

Casey had changed her first diaper at age five when her little brother Kenny had come along, but her mother hadn’t been working then and kept the crib in their room. She’d also been breastfeeding, so there had been no bottles for Casey to tend either. Casey had heard her mother talking on the phone about taking a pill now to stop her from getting pregnant again, and she hoped it worked.

The show was almost over by the time Casey fed the baby and got her dirty diaper changed. Her father scowled at her when she returned to the room. “It’s about time you got that squalling brat settled down, girl. I could hardly hear my show for the screamin’.”

“I don’t think Clea liked something mommy ate,” she said in a soft voice. “Her belly is upset and her poo stinks.” She curled her nose in distaste of the memory of the dirty diaper she’d removed from the fussing baby.

“I hope you rinsed the damned thing good in that diaper pail.”

Casey grinned at her younger brother. “I washed Clea’s butt good, but not in the diaper pail.”

Her father just snorted a reply as he lit another cigarette during a commercial about beer. The man never understood her humor or responded to it positively. Her brother laughed behind his hand and whispered, “He’s gonna take his belt to you if you get smart with him, Casey.”

“Won’t be the first time,” she rolled her blue eyes and replied in an equally soft whisper, “and probably won’t be the last.”

They sat quietly until the final theme music began to play. “I hope you find a man like Tucker to marry someday, Casey.” Her father emptied another bottle of Pepsi.

“There aren’t cowboys anymore, Daddy,” Casey said as she roused little Kenny and sent him toddling toward his room.

“Ain’t no cowboy gonna wanna marry silly Casey anyways,” Micha said with a grin. “She reads too many books.”

Their father sat up in his recliner and folded down the footrest. “Of course there are still cowboys, Casey, and,” he said to her brother, “she needs a good, moral man like Tucker Hughes to turn her into a good woman who can take care of a house, tend a garden, and mind her children the way a woman should.”

“And I bet she can’t learn that in silly books, can she, Daddy?” her brother continued to tease.

“Books have a place, son,” her father said with a sour glance at Casey, “but it’s in school and not at home where there are too many chores for a woman to tend to.”

The talking and movement in the living room woke the baby, and Casey began to fret again. She made a beeline for the bedroom, went in, and shut the door to tend to one of her womanly chores. Clea’s diaper was damp, so she changed it before putting the bottle back into her mouth and holding it in place until the baby’s eye’s closed and she settled back into sleep.

She made a quick trip across the hall to the bathroom, where she relieved herself for the night and then returned to her dark room to crawl into bed. Casey fell asleep to the sound of the television on the other side of the wall and woke later in the dark after another dream about being chased across a field by yelling Indians on horseback.

Chapter 1

Another divorce was final, and Casey Miller had run away to her friend Tandy’s in rural California north of Palm Springs to take stock of her life—or what was left of it.

They stood in the check-out line of Lucky’s Supermarket in Yucca with a cart overflowing with groceries Casey insisted on paying for if Tandy insisted upon cooking for her every night. Their visit had been great so far, but Casey didn’t know if she could stomach another meal of the spicy Mexican fare Tandy cooked.

The man ahead of them had just said something to make the cashier laugh, and Casey took her eyes off his shapely behind for the first time. He wore the typical cowboy get-up popular in Yucca and of the old western shows Casey’s father had loved to watch. His jeans fit tight, and he had a blue bandana tied around his neck. He even wore a perfectly styled brown cowboy hat and polished leather boots. The only thing out of place was the set of aviator sunglasses on his handsome tanned face with lenses tinted yellow.

“Looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?” Tandy whispered into Casey’s ear.

Casey studied the man closer as he put his bagged purchases into his cart and Tandy moved them forward in the line. “Who is he and who is his dad?”

“That’s Tucker Riley,” she said. “His dad is Morgan Riley, the actor who played Tucker Hughes on that show The Drifter.”

“Oh, wow,” Casey said, studying the man closer. “He really does look like him—especially in those clothes.”

Tandy pushed the cart forward, and Casey began putting groceries onto the rolling rubber belt for the cashier to scan and bag in white plastic bags. “Hey, Tucker,” Tandy called, “since when do you do the grocery shopping?”

The man turned to study the person speaking to him. “Oh, hey, Tandy,” he said in reply with a big furrow in his tanned brow. “Ever since Elvira left me high and dry over in LA and I moved back up onto the ranch with Mom and Dad.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Tucker,” Tandy said as Casey continued to empty the cart. “I always thought Elvira was real nice and you two were good together.” Casey could tell from her friend’s tone she didn’t mean a word she said to the man about his wife. “You two ever have kids?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “and that was probably a big part of our problem.” He chuckled. “That and we mixed about like oil and water.”

“Balsamic and extra virgin mixes well with a good shake,” Casey said without thinking as the cashier rang up her total and she handed the woman her debit card.

“Excuse me?” Tucker said, glancing at Casey for the first time.

“Just excuse her, Tucker,” Tandy said as she inched the cart around Casey and began loading bagged groceries into it. “She’s suffering from the just-lost-another-man blues.”

Casey scowled at her friend. “Or maybe I’m not suffering at all and I’m ready to throw a post-divorce house party—at your house.”

Tandy snorted. “Not at my house, you’re not. As I recall the last one went on for about three days and involved several cases of wine.”

Casey grinned and winked at Tucker Riley. “And a few bottles of Jack Daniels. You can’t forget Jack.”

“Boy, ain’t that the truth,” Tandy said, rubbing at her temples.

“Sounds like you gals know how to throw a party,” Tucker said with a grin.

Casey signed her receipt and followed her friend who pushed the cart over to join her friend Tucker.

“I’m Tucker Riley, by the way,” he said, offering his hand to Casey.

“And I’m Casey Miller,” she said as she took the man’s big hand. She noticed it was rough and work-worn. This was no idle California movie star’s brat. This man worked for a living. “Are you in the business like your father?”

Tucker rolled his dark brown eyes. “Not hardly,” he said, “though Mom and Dad both tried to push me into it when I was younger.”

“You’ve certainly got the looks for it,” Casey said, and then her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “I hear they’re trying to bring Westerns back up here in the desert.”

He took off his hat and ran a hand through his thick, auburn curls. “My sister and I are hoping that’s the case. If not, we’re putting a lot of money into Desert Home for nothing.”

“Desert Home?” Tandy asked with her face twisted in confusion. “That broken-down old movie set out in the foothills? I thought the county condemned it years ago and had it torn down.”

Tucker nodded. “That’s what was gonna happen, but Dad and Mom stepped in and bought it from the Studio.” He glanced at Casey and smiled. “It’s where they shot their show back in the day.”

“Their show?” Casey asked, equally confused.

Tandy giggled. “Tucker’s mom played Charity on the show. The dancehall girl who was the sheriff’s love interest.”

“Oh, yah, right.” Casey vaguely remembered a blonde saloon girl from the show who always wore an ostrich feather in her hair.

“She’s been my Dad’s love interest in real life for almost sixty years now,” Tucker said, “and I’d best be gettin’ these groceries home to her or she’ll tan my hide the way she did when I was a kid.” He began to push his cart toward the sliding glass door. “It was sure nice seeing you, Tandy.”

“Nice seeing you again, Tucker,” Tandy replied as she followed him out into the bright high desert sunshine.” If you’re back up here on the mountain, you should drop by sometime and we could take the horses out.”

“I might just do that,” he said with a wink at Casey. “You still make those chicken enchiladas in green chili sauce that are so good?”

“She sure does,” Casey chimed in, rubbing her abdomen, “though I think she spikes the damned things with jalapenos more than simple chilis.”

Tucker and Tandy both laughed. “Not a fan of the hot stuff?” Tucker asked, grinning.

“I’ve been here for a week, and I think I’ve already lost the lining of my esophagus and my stomach. I’m cooking tonight,” Casey said as they stopped at her car, “and it’s gonna be fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and gravy.”

Tucker smiled, showing off his even, white teeth. “That sounds good too. I think my mom has meatloaf planned.” He turned the cart toward a big, dirty pickup. “But she makes it with hot peppers, lots of onion, and Louisiana hot sauce.”

“It was real nice meeting you, Tucker,” Casey said as she opened the rear hatch on her car, “but I think I’ll pass on your mother’s meatloaf.”

Tucker laughed. “Why don’t you gals come out to Desert Home tomorrow and see what we’re doing out there.”

“The last time I was out there,” Tandy said, “we were in high school and it was just a falling down disaster area infested with black widows and rattlesnakes.”

“Then you’ll be excited to see how much it’s changed,” he called to them as he returned his empty cart to the rack with the others.

“Sounds like fun,” Casey said as she took her empty cart and began pushing it toward the rack as Tandy got into the car and turned on the ignition to get the air conditioning going.

“See you tomorrow then?” He said almost hopefully as he climbed into the truck and started the engine.

Casey returned to the car and got in. “How far away is this Desert Home place?”

“Out about eight miles west of town,” Tandy said. “I hope he’s fixed it up because the last time I was out there it was a real wreck. I honestly thought the county had bulldozed it a long time ago.”

“Sounds like his family is putting a lot into it to fix it back up.”

Tandy shook her blonde head. “It would have taken a small fortune to fix that mess up. As I recall, one of the guys with us put his foot right through the floor of the saloon and all the ceilings leaked.” She did a mock shiver. “And there were black widow webs full of spiders hanging everywhere in the buildings.”

“I’m sure that was easy to clean up,” Casey said, “but you know I’m no fan of spiders.”

Tandy chuckled. “I know and I’m no fan of rattlesnakes. When we were walking from the parking area through all the old creosote bushes, you could hear the rattles going off everywhere.”

“Well, I’d imagine they’d have cleaned all of that up too.”

Tandy turned her head and smiled. “I think Tucker was into you, Casey.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Casey scoffed. “He was just being nice to your friend. I think he was into you.”

“My chances with Tucker Riley came and went years ago.”

“You guys dated?” Casey asked in surprise. She couldn’t remember her friend ever mentioning dating the handsome son of a television star.

“In high school,” she said, waving her hand, “before he went off to Vietnam. It was nothing really.” She sighed. “Just two kids playing around. He went off to Vietnam and I went off to USC. I met Sam in college, and we got married. Tucker came back and hooked up with that shrew Elvira.”

“Seems they were together for a long time.”

Tandy snorted. “Elvira probably got tired of waiting for his old man to kick the bucket for the inheritance. I know she screwed everything in pants while they lived out here on the ranch.” She shrugged her freckled shoulders. “I shudder to think about what went on in LA. Behind his back.”

They turned off the main highway onto the bumpy dirt road leading up to Tandy’s house. “So he said he and his sister were working together on this Desert Home thing. Do you know her too?”

Tandy nodded. “And a royal bitch she is too,” she said as Casey swerved to avoid another pothole. “They’re twins. He’s the spitting image of their father, Morgan Riley, and Charity is the spitting image of their mother, Rita Wright, who played his love interest on the show.”

“And they named their kids after the characters they played on the television show?” Casey asked with a furrowed brow. “That couldn’t have been easy on the kids with the show in syndication for so long.”

“I’d imagine they’ll use that to their advantage when they get ready to open Desert Home up to the public.”

“What do you think their plan is—an amusement park like Disney?”

Tandy shrugged as Casey parked the car in the drive of the adobe house shaded by towering eucalyptus and Aleppo pines. “Probably more of a tourist trap like Tombstone or Old Tucson in Arizona with shops and restaurants. I can’t see them doing something with rides and shit unless its stagecoach and pony rides.” Tandy grabbed some bags. “I doubt the old man would allow it on the old stage set.”