No One But You (14 page)

That sent the children into fresh gales of laughter.

Salty poked them both in the sides. “Stop laughing, brats. Do you want to see me get switched?”

They managed a strangled
yes
then laughed even harder.

“It's their fault,” he told Sarah. “I think I should switch them.”

More hilarity, and Ellen hid behind Jared.

“No one gets any breakfast until the sausage is finished.” With that announcement, Sarah walked back inside.

The children's laughter gradually died down. Ellen said, “I'm hungry.”

“You're always hungry,” Jared said.

“Then we'd better get to work,” Salty advised. “I'm hungry, too.”

Once they all settled down to their tasks, work went quickly. Soon the only question was whether to seal sausages in lard or put them in the smokehouse.

“I want some of this for breakfast.” Ellen picked up a sausage made with seasoned meat and cornmeal and headed for the house.

“That's her favorite,” Jared told him.

“What's yours?”

“Anything except liver,” the boy said.

Salty chuckled. “I promise to eat the liver. Now, grab a sausage and let's head for the smokehouse.”

He waited to see how Jared would do with the unfinished crutch, but the boy had already learned to use it. It must hurt having the end jammed into his armpit, but Jared didn't complain or hesitate. Salty decided he'd have to make the armrest as soon as he got enough sleep to not be a danger to himself handling a knife.

“Let me give you a hand,” he said to Jared after they'd put everything in the smokehouse and started back. “You've got to have bruises in your armpit.”

“It doesn't hurt,” the boy said.

Salty gave him a knowing smile. “I made enough crutches for my father to know it does. I know you're anxious to be on your own, but it won't kill you to lean on me one more time.” He held out his hand. “I'll finish your crutch tonight. Now let's get some breakfast. I think I have just enough energy to eat before I fall asleep.”

Jared hesitated before giving up his crutch. “I'm not tired.”

“You will be as soon as the excitement wears off.”

“What's to get excited about making sausage?”

“It's not about making sausage as much as it is that things are different. Me being here, Arnie killing the pig, staying up all night. Even worrying about Bones.”

“Are you sure he's going to be all right?” Salty's words had reminded the child of the dog.

“I expect he's already at the house wanting his breakfast.”

“Will he still be able to hunt?”

Salty took Jared's arm and they started toward the house. “Don't worry about Bones. He'll be nosing around for rabbits long before it's time to take off the bandage.”

Jared shook his head. “I don't understand why Arnie would kill our pig. I didn't like him very much, but he was always nice to us.”

Salty wasn't sure how much to explain. “It's difficult to imagine why people do some things until you know more about them,” he finally said. “Sometimes it's impossible even then.”

Jared was limping worse than usual. The child had to be exhausted, staying up all night and learning to walk with a crutch that practically punched a hole in his armpit. He probably needed sleep more than he needed food, but breakfast was going to come first.

Both Salty and Jared washed up at the pump before heading into the house. Salty needed coffee and lots of it. He smelled it while he was still twenty yards away. It gave him a burst of energy, a lift in his gait.

“You hungry?” Jared asked.

“Yeah. Aren't you?”

“Sorta.”

The child worked so hard and was so responsible, it was hard to remember he was only seven. “Your appetite will perk up once you get to the table. Your mom's a great cook,” Salty said.

“I guess so.”

Until the trip to the Circle Seven, the boy probably hadn't eaten anything that hadn't been cooked by his mother. Salty was quick to assure him, “Take it from me, she's a great cook. Better than
my
mom.”

When they reached the back door, Bones was there finishing the last of what looked like corn bread and milk. “I told you he'd be right as rain before you know it,” Salty said. “Isn't that true, old boy?”

Bones didn't respond until he'd lapped up the last of the milk. Licking his chops, he turned to Salty and whined softly, his tail wagging.

“That's right, stick to what's important. You can thank me for patching you up when you have nothing better to do.”

Jared giggled.

“Go look for rabbits, but don't go too far. We only have one pig left.”

The old dog headed off toward some brush. As they watched, Jared's grip on Salty's arm tightened. “Do you think Arnie will come back?”

“I doubt it,” Salty said, hoping it was true. “Bones took a bite out of him.”

The smells from the house caused Salty's stomach to growl. He gripped Jared under the arms and lifted him up the steps. Bowls of scrambled eggs, hominy, and a plate with new sausage were already on the table.

Ellen pointed to glasses of milk with obvious pride. “I milked the cow you bought. Mama said we can have butter for our corn bread tomorrow if she gives enough cream.”

Salty had forgotten all about the cow. He'd have to remember to let the chickens out after he ate, too. He'd do a better job in the future.

Sarah came to the table with a three-legged griddle from which she put corn bread on each plate. “Sit down and eat while everything's hot. Once we get everything cleaned up, we're all going to take a long nap.”

“What about building a pen for the chickens?” Ellen asked.

“What about my crutch?”

“Both can wait until the evening. Right now we need to rest.” She returned the griddle to the stove, picked up a cup which she filled with coffee, and handed it to Salty. “Let me know if it's strong enough.”

The coffee was hot and so strong it came at him like an angry range bull, which was exactly the way he liked it. With a sigh of satisfaction, he settled into his chair at the table. “Might as well hand me the pot. I intend to drink all of it.”

“Can I have some coffee?” Ellen asked.

“In about ten years,” her mother replied. “Now drink your milk and eat your breakfast. We're all tired and in need of sleep.”

They didn't talk much while they ate. No one but his father talked during meals when Salty was growing up, but he'd gotten so used to the Randolphs all talking at once that the silence struck him as unnatural.

The children's energy picked up as they ate. Jared still looked tired when it was time to clean up and put everything away, but Ellen was nearly her old self. Salty wondered what kind of man it would take to win her heart and match her in strength and energy. He doubted such a man had been made.

“Did you stake the cow out?” Salty asked.

“No,” Ellen said. “Mama said she'd do that later.”

Salty shook his head, glancing at Sarah. “I'll take care of it. I need to look around for a good spot for the chicken pen. I want to get that done today.”

“You can let the chickens run loose,” Ellen argued. “They'll roost in the trees.”

“Yes, but they'll lay their eggs all over the place, and we'll never find half of them.”

“Jared is real good at finding their nests,” Ellen said.

Maybe, but they needed every egg. It wouldn't take much to set up a temporary pen, just a few poles set in the ground and wire stretched around them. If he could set one up around a tree suitable for roosting, all he'd have to do later was make some nesting boxes. Of course, he'd have to enlist Jared's aid to find the chickens Sarah already had. He hadn't seen a single hen around the house or the shed.

He took one last swallow of coffee. “With a pot of this under my belt each morning, there's not much a man can't do,” he said.

“You can pee a lot,” Ellen suggested.

Sarah frowned at her daughter. “That's not a nice thing to say.”

“You always tell me not to drink too much water before I go to bed because it will make me pee.”

“It's okay for a parent to say that to a child. It's part of teaching them the consequences of their actions. Salty is an adult. He's old enough to make his own decisions.”

“When will I be old enough to make my own decisions?”

“Not for several years yet. Now clear the table. I think we're all ready for a nap.”

Salty started to ask Jared if he might suggest a good place for the chicken pen, but the sound of an approaching horse caused him to turn. “Are you expecting anyone?” he asked Sarah. It was too soon for his lumber to be arriving.

“No,” she replied.

“I'll see who it is.” But when Salty went outside, he didn't recognize the approaching horseman.

“That's Mr. Wallace.” Jared had followed Salty to the door. “He's the man who wants Mama's ranch.” Salty had no idea what could have brought their neighbor out so early, but he didn't appear to be happy about it.

Wallace regarded Salty with contempt as he brought his horse to a stop. He said, “Another one of those idiots Sarah hires hoping they can make something of this ranch. What's your name?”

“I'm Benton Wheeler, and I'm not another idiot hired man. I'm Sarah's husband.”

The news appeared to catch Wallace by surprise. At last he said, “I don't believe it. Sarah would never marry a man like you when she could marry me.”

Salty was so surprised he didn't know what to say, but Jared wasn't similarly handicapped. “He
did
marry Mama. I saw him.”

“Morning, Henry. What can I do for you?” Sarah had joined Jared in the doorway. Ellen wiggled through to stand next to Salty.

“You can tell me this man was lying when he said you married him.”

“I can't because I did.”

Henry Wallace was typical of many men who'd pulled together a successful ranching operation after the war. He was big, loud, and probably as strong as he looked. Dressed in a coat, shirt, and tie more suitable for time indoors than riding across open range, he appeared to be somewhere in his forties, with his thick brown hair and beard showing only a trace of gray. He rode a rawboned, piebald gelding, which he treated with rough impatience. His easily kindled anger was as apparent in his eyes as his contempt for people he didn't consider his equal.

“He doesn't look rich,” Wallace said.

“He's not.”

“Then why the hell did you marry him? He's not a looker like Roger.”

“I like him,” Jared said.

“Me too,” Ellen echoed.

“What you brats like doesn't matter,” Wallace snarled. “It's your mother who has to sleep with him.”

Salty was tired of Wallace, and he was fed up with the man's treatment of Sarah and her family. “I assume you have some reason for being here other than to abuse my wife and our children?”

Wallace's grin turned wolfish. “Staking your claim, are you? Maybe you've grabbed for more than you can hold.”

“Never happened before.”

“I guess we'll see, won't we?”

Ellen moved closer to Salty, and he put his arm around her shoulder, something that Wallace didn't appear to like. The man turned to Sarah. “Your cows are on my range again.”

“This is open range,” Salty reminded him.

“
My
range isn't open, and I've told Sarah that lots of times before.”

“Unless you've got a deed to that land, our cows have as much right to that grass as yours.”

“I don't need a deed, because I control the range.”

“That can change,” Salty replied.

Wallace turned red in the face. “Are you threatening me?”

“Simply stating a fact. I've been hearing talk about a kind of barbed wire that can be used for fencing. Once they perfect it, that'll be the end of the open range. You'll have to own the land your cows graze.”

“You
did
marry an idiot,” Wallace said to Sarah. “I never heard a more ridiculous tale in my life. And if somebody
did
invent such a wire, ranchers wouldn't stand for it.”

“Ranchers will be asking for it, because fencing is the only way to improve our herds.”

“There's nothing wrong with the Texas longhorn,” Wallace said. “It's the cheapest beef in the world.”

“And will always sell for the lowest price. If you want to see the future of ranching in Texas, go see what George Randolph is doing.”

“I don't need anybody to tell me how to run my ranch,” Wallace snapped. He turned back to Sarah. “If you can't keep your cows off my land, I can.”

Salty answered, “Tell me where to find them, and I'll make certain they're gone by tonight.”

“I want them off now.”

Salty's mouth twitched. “Since I'm not sure where the cows are and have no magic carpet that will get me there instantly, that's not possible.”

Wallace appeared to lack a sense of humor. He turned redder than before and jerked the bridle so hard his horse half reared. “They're down by the creek,” he said after he got his mount back under control.

“All the land on this side of the creek is mine,” Sarah said.

“It would be if you could hold it,” Wallace sneered.

“I'm not familiar with the extent of the land that makes up our ranch,” Salty told him, “but once I am, I'll make sure our cows don't stray onto yours. I'll also make sure
your
cows stay on
your
side of the creek—if you don't do it yourself, which I'm sure you will.”

“You talk big,” Wallace said to Salty. “I'll be looking to see if you can live up to your boasts.”

“I wasn't boasting,” Salty said. “It's probably not a good idea to judge other people's actions by your own.”

Wallace was so enraged it took him nearly a minute to stop fighting with his horse. The poor animal's mouth must be like leather. “I've had my say,” he shouted at Salty. “Get those cows off my land, or I'll deliver them to you in the back of a wagon.” And with that final threat, he turned his mount, drove his heels into his horse's flanks, and galloped away.

“We'd better get the cows now,” Ellen said. She started toward the shed before Salty could speak.

“We're not going anywhere until we've had some sleep,” he said. “After that, I intend to build the chicken pen and finish Jared's crutch. We'll see about our cows tomorrow.”

“But what if he shoots them before then?”

“Then he'll have to pay for them. Don't worry,” he added, when Ellen started to protest. “I can take care of Mr. Wallace.”

Sarah shooed the children into the house. It was only then that Salty was left prey to his own doubts. Anybody could stand up and get run over or killed. The real question was: could he succeed? Wallace was a bully, the kind of man who talked a big game and didn't usually have to follow through because he scared people so much they didn't test him. Salty couldn't afford
not
to test Wallace. His future as well as that of Sarah and her children depended on it.

“What are you going to do about Wallace?” Sarah had returned, her brow furrowed with worry. He wondered whether she was worried about him or just the ranch.

“I can't answer that until I see what he's talking about. We ought to ride together tomorrow. You can show me the ranch, where to find the best graze, and where to look for trouble.”

“Maybe you should take Ellen. She knows almost as much as I do.”

“I don't need ‘almost as much.' I need to know every detail of what went on in the past and how things stand now.”

What he didn't add was that he wanted to ride with her. He wanted that more than he would have thought possible.

* * *

“Did you get a nap?” Jared asked as Salty tried to fit the armrest onto Jared's crutch. Salty carved a curl of wood from one side of the hole in the armrest. When he tried to insert the crutch, it slid right in.

“I wasn't very sleepy after all.”

“Why would Mr. Wallace want to shoot our cows?”

“To force your mother to sell him her land. Hand me that piece of cloth.”

Jared watched as Salty wrapped the cloth around the armrest several times to make a thick pad. He drove a small nail through it on the underside to hold it in place.

“Mama can't sell him all our land because half belongs to you.”

“Only if I can find a way to make a living out of this place.”

“You will, won't you?”

Satisfied the padding was secure, Salty fitted the armrest onto the crutch and reached for the small wedges he'd made earlier. The boy watched him use the wedges to make the armrest secure. “I'm going to try, but it may take several years.”

“I don't care. Will you stay?”

Salty paused. He looked up to find Jared eyeing him rather than the longed-for crutch. “Your mother has made me promise to give her a divorce when she asks for it.”

“If she doesn't ask, will you stay?”

“According to our agreement, I don't get the land unless she gets a divorce.”

Jared looked disappointed. “Mama didn't tell us that.”

Salty couldn't imagine his father having shared that kind of information with him when he was seven. Or when he was seventeen. He wasn't sure how he should have answered, but it was too late to change now. “Stand up. I need to figure out where to put the footrest.” Jared's withered leg was capable of bearing a little weight, but it wasn't as long as his good leg. Once Jared had secured a comfortable grip on the crutch, he hobbled around the yard, turning right and left, walking faster and faster. “Slow down,” Salty said. “I need to attach the footrest.”

Jared turned and gave him a brilliant smile. “I can walk almost as fast as Ellen!”

Salty had spent so many years living with his father's bitterness over the loss of his ability to walk, the boy's gratitude took him aback. But of course it would be an amazing gift, to be able to walk without assistance.

Jared turned toward the house and yelled, “Mama, come see!” The moment she appeared in the doorway he called, “Watch.” Then he hobbled rapidly in one direction and then another. After he looped several more times he was winded, but that didn't diminish his happiness. “Salty says I can walk even better once I have a rest for my foot.”

Sarah's expression changed from surprise to happiness to tearful joy as she watched her son show off. Her hand went to her chest as though her heart was beating too fast. She blessed Salty with just a brief glance before turning back to her son, but that expression was more than enough to set his own heart to pounding, to tighten his own chest until he found it hard to breathe. He wasn't very good at interpreting a woman's glance—Rose had always said he was hopeless—but that brief glance had been filled with so much sizzling warmth he was dizzy from the force of it. His whole body was filled, energized, overwhelmed. If he hadn't known it was impossible, he'd have said it was a look of love.

Just the thought of a woman like Sarah being in love with him was enough to finish off his fading ability to think. If George had felt even a tenth of this when he met Rose, Salty couldn't understand how he'd held out as long as he had.

He had to be careful not to read too much into Sarah's look, though. She loved her son deeply, had agonized over his inability to be like other boys. She probably would have been thankful to any man who gave the child back a fraction of what that quirk of Nature had taken away. Salty suddenly wondered why Arnie hadn't taken the time to make a crutch for Jared. Surely that would have been a quicker and surer way to her heart than spreading rumors about her.

“Have you thanked Salty?” she asked her son. The boy looked crestfallen for not having thought of it.

“Just seeing him gallop around the yard like that is thanks enough,” Salty said.

Jared hung his head. “I'm sorry. I
should
have thanked you.”

“Wait and see if you feel the same way in a couple of weeks. I intend to give you so much work you'll be wanting to throw this crutch onto a fire.”

The boy's smile peeped through. “Then you'd have to make me another one.”

Sarah glanced from Salty to her son and back again with a wondering look. Salty wasn't sure, but he thought she was pleased. He cautioned himself that he wasn't any good with women.

“I need you to help me with supper,” Sarah said to her son.

“Can't Ellen help?”

“She's going to help Salty with the chicken pen.”

“I can help him,” Jared argued.

“I'm sure you can, but I've already promised Ellen. She has to round up the chickens afterward, and you know how much she hates chickens.”

“She hates everything except horses and cows,” Jared reminded Salty.

The girl emerged from the house looking sleepy. “I don't like milk cows, either.”

“But you like butter and milk,” her mother said, “so I guess you'll have to put up with her.”

“Okay, but I'll never like chickens,” Ellen declared. “They're disgusting.”

“Unless they're on your plate,” her mother said. “Now, no more silly talk. You help Salty with that chicken pen while Jared helps me with supper.”

“Shall we have a race to see who gets done first?” Salty asked.

Both children brightened. Like he'd expected, it seemed competition made any task more welcome.

* * *

Sarah smiled as she watched Jared struggle to use his crutch in the confined space of the kitchen. He was happier than she'd ever seen him. She didn't know how she was going to thank Salty for making the crutch—or for the other differences he'd already made in her children's lives. She didn't doubt that both children loved her as much as ever, but something had been missing. It seemed that space had been filled.

She tried again to decide what it was that had made them take to Salty so quickly. He was nice and kind. He could be funny as well as serious. He talked to them and did things for them. But it was more than that. It was the quality of the attention he gave them, the genuineness of his interest, the honesty in his answers to their questions. He listened to them and seemed to understand how they felt. Most important of all, he clearly liked them in return.

Jared was setting the table. He was slowed by being able to use only one hand, but he had insisted his mother let him take the dishes from the cabinet. She was worried that he might break something, but so far he hadn't.

“Do you think we're going to beat Salty and Ellen?”

“I don't know, but it's more important that we make sure supper is good.”

“Can't we beat them
and
make supper taste good?” The poor boy was so used to being second to his sister in everything that this opportunity to best her had assumed enormous proportions.

“I think we just might do it. Salty has to dig a lot of holes, and that takes time.”

Jared's worried look was replaced by a broad grin. He started working faster.

“If you drop or break anything, we'll be disqualified,” Sarah said.

Jared stopped and faced her. “Will they be disqualified if the fence falls down?”

“Definitely.”