No One But You (18 page)

“It was deep in his foot. Digging it out had to be very painful.”

“He didn't cry,” Jared said.

“Men don't,” Sarah said.

Salty remembered men who were in so much pain they couldn't cry; all they could do was scream. “Yes, they do. One more jab of that needle, and I'd have been blubbering like a baby.”

The children laughed, and Sarah favored him with a look so warm it threatened to heat up the night. Now he was sure her feelings for him were more than mere physical attraction. And if that look measured the intensity of her feelings, she liked him a lot.

Despite the throbbing in his foot, he felt his body begin to react to his desire for her. He fought against it. He suspected Sarah thought men only cared for women because of their physical needs, and he didn't want her to think that of him. He needed to redirect everyone's attention. “We should decide what to do about Arnie,” he announced. He talked so the man couldn't hear.

“Let's shoot him,” said Ellen.

Sarah laughed, surprised. “I thought you liked him.”

“He was trying to hurt our horses.” In the little girl's world, horses were more important than people.

She turned to Salty. “What do you suggest?”

“We have to round up and brand a lot of cows in the next several days, and we don't have anybody to help us. He can help us for the next week and prove he's changed his ways. If he doesn't agree, or runs away before we finish, we should turn him in to the sheriff.”

“How will you catch him if he runs away?” Ellen asked.

Salty eyed Bones. “I have a feeling he wouldn't get very far. What do you think?” he asked Sarah.

She leveled a harsh gaze at her would-be suitor. “Why did you stab Bones?”

“I didn't mean to. I was just trying to keep him from biting me.”

“How about killing our pig and trying to lame my horses?”

Arnie hung his head. “I was hoping if you thought this man couldn't protect you, you'd take me back.”

“You've done a terrible thing, Arnie, but we're shorthanded. I'll accept Salty's suggestion if you agree to it, but you have to understand that he is my husband and my children's stepfather now.”

“What if he shoots Salty?” Jared asked, suddenly horrified.

“I'd shoot
him
,” Ellen declared.

“He's not going to shoot Salty,” Sarah said.

Jared wasn't convinced. “But what if he did?”

“Then I'd let Ellen shoot him and we'd leave his carcass for the coyotes.”

The children laughed, but Salty thought he detected an edge of steel in Sarah's voice. While he doubted that's what Sarah would
really
do, it pleased him to know that's what she'd
want
to do. Once they got the branding done, he'd have to explore the change in her feelings toward him more fully. In the meantime, he'd better make sure he knew what his feelings were.

He turned his attention back to Arnie. “It looks like you have a choice: work with us or go to jail. What will it be?”

It was impossible to know what was going on in Arnie's mind. Any man who thought he could win a woman's affection by running down her ability to survive and attacking her livestock suffered from thinking that was plain twisted. Salty wasn't sure working with Arnie was a good idea. He wouldn't have suggested it if they weren't in such desperate need of help.

“I'll help with the branding,” Arnie said. “At least I'll get something to eat, right?”

Salty hadn't thought of how difficult it might be for a man like Arnie to find work. “I can't turn a fellow soldier out, but you'll have to sleep outdoors. I wouldn't feel comfortable with you in the shed next to me.”

Arnie's gaze narrowed. “If you're married, why aren't you sleeping with Sarah?”

It was impossible to offer the real explanation. “Bones and I are sleeping out to watch for thieves.”

Arnie looked like he wanted to ask more questions. Instead he asked, “What if it rains?”

“You can sleep in the wagon,” Sarah suggested.

“I'll lend you my bedroll to keep dry,” Salty offered.

“He'll run away,” Jared said.

“No, I won't. If I go to jail, I'll never get a decent job.” Arnie looked at the ground. “Or find a woman who'll marry me.”

That would probably be a good thing, Salty thought. Texas didn't need children cursed with Arnie's thinking processes.

He declared, “It's time for everyone to get back to bed.”

“I need to bandage your foot,” Sarah said.

“It's not necessary. I'll be sure to keep my boots on.”

Sarah didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue; she took the children and headed toward the house. Arnie watched them just as intently until they disappeared through the trees. “You'll be a lot happier if you can put those thoughts out of your mind,” Salty told him.

Arnie took a deep, slow breath then exhaled so completely he seemed to shrink in size. “I guess I was stupid to think it ever would work.”

Salty couldn't disagree, but he felt sorry for the man. He knew what it was like to fear no woman would ever love him.

“What about your dog?” Arnie asked. Bones had stopped trying to get to him after Sarah tied him to the fence, but he hadn't stopped watching.

“I'll keep Bones in the shed with me.”

“Put him inside before you untie me. I don't like the way he's looking at me.”

“Right now he's just watching you. Don't give him reason to change his mind. I'll give you a couple of blankets for the wagon. Get some sleep. We all should.”

But after Salty had gotten Arnie settled and crawled back into his own bed, Bones lying near the door, he was wide awake. Was he stupid to keep Arnie around, even though they desperately needed the help? The man suffered from seriously dysfunctional thinking. Wouldn't it be safer for everyone if he was in jail?

He turned onto his other side. It wasn't more comfortable, but he liked his thoughts a lot better. Sarah had called him the children's stepfather. That was the first time she'd included the children in their relationship. Rather than being her partner in a business arrangement, it sounded like she was indeed thinking of him as part of the family. He was very fond of both children. Their lives so far had been shaped by circumstances beyond their control. He wanted them to have a chance to discover what they wanted for themselves, not just what was necessary for survival.

Didn't he want the same things for Sarah? Not quite. He wanted her to discover what it was like to live her life without being afraid of going broke, or of a man who'd abuse her emotionally if not physically. He wanted her to know what it was like to go to bed without fear, to wake up without feeling desperate, to be able to face the world without feeling inferior in any way.

He also wanted
her
. He wasn't sure whether it was love or infatuation, but he did know it wasn't mere lust. He'd had enough experience with that to know. What he didn't know was love. His mother had claimed she loved his father, but she'd lived in fear of his rages. His father had said he loved Salty's mother, but he'd treated her like a servant. He'd told the world he loved his son, but Salty had never felt loved. Seeing Rose and George had restored Salty's belief in the possibility of real love, but he wasn't a war hero like George. He was just a lowly foot soldier who wasn't sure he was worthy of that kind of love.

But he wanted that kind of love. He wanted it enough to risk failure.

* * *

“Iron,” Salty shouted.

They had been at this for a week. They rose every morning before dawn, ate the first of only two meals they would have that day, then headed out to round up the animals to be branded. Jared would have the fire going and the branding irons hot by the time they returned. Salty had been required to show Jared only once how to tell when a branding iron was too hot or not hot enough. The boy was as smart as he was sweet-tempered.

The boy chose an iron from the fire he was tending and brought it to where Salty stood next to the chute. Inside, a four-year-old steer fought against the boards that held him prisoner.

“Pin him,” Salty shouted.

Arnie shoved the steer against the side of the chute, held him steady for the time it took Salty to work the brand without smearing it. The smell of singed hair and scorched hide assaulted Salty's nostrils, but he had grown so used to the stench over the last week he hardly noticed it any longer. Satisfied the brand was clear and lasting, Salty stood back and said, “Let him go.”

Arnie pulled away from the steer and, while the animal was regaining his balance, removed the bars that had locked it in the chute. Salty gave a shout and slapped the steer on the rump. The angry creature shot from the chute at a run. Giving a bellow of rage, it headed for the open range.

Returning the branding iron to Jared, Salty mounted his horse to cut another animal from the herd Sarah and Ellen were holding. This time he chose a cow with a calf at her side. This would give him a chance to do two at once. The cow would be caught in the chute; he would lasso the calf and Arnie would wrestle it to the ground.

Salty doubted he would ever learn to like the man, but Arnie was as good as his word. He wasn't a skilled cowhand, but he did whatever Salty told him to do as quickly and as well as he could. With more experience he'd probably turn into a good hand. Salty was already trying to decide whether to keep him on to deliver the steers they were going to send north with the Randolphs.

“When can
I
brand a steer?”

Ellen had been hankering to wield the branding iron, and Salty had tried to explain that it wasn't easy to make a clear, readable brand. You had to have the iron at the right temperature, you had to know how to make the design, and you had to know how hard and how long to press to get a mark that would be clear but not burn through the skin. Unfortunately, it looked easy.

“Stop plaguing Salty,” Sarah scolded. “We need you where you are.”

After the excitement of the roundup, keeping cows in a herd wasn't enough action for Ellen. “You don't need me. You've got Bones.”

The dog had been worth his weight in gold when it came to flushing cows from the brush and tangles of thorny vines, and he was proving almost as valuable as a herd dog. Let a single steer break away, and Bones was after him in a flash.

“You need a crew of at least ten for branding,” Salty told Ellen. “We have half that. I thought you wanted to spend your whole day on horseback.”

She did, but she also wanted to be in the middle of the excitement, and to her that meant branding, not sitting a horse waiting for something to happen.

They had only ten more to brand today. Salty was wondering if he'd done enough for the time being. His lumber had arrived. He was anxious to start building an extra room onto Sarah's house. It was well past the time Ellen should be sharing a room with her brother.

He had branded the cow and wrestled her calf to the ground when Jared said, “Someone's coming.”

Salty glanced up to see several riders approaching. Henry Wallace was in the lead, and he was coming at a fast canter.

“Hand me an iron,” Salty said to Jared. He didn't want to face Wallace while he was holding the calf, and he intended to brand the animal while it was down.

Jared handed him an iron. Salty had it poised over the calf's flank when Wallace shouted, “Stop. That's my calf!” With that, he pulled a rifle and aimed it at Salty.

Over the last several days, the ground had been cut up by hundreds of hooves and every blade of grass in a circle of a hundred feet ground to fragments. Generous sunshine and a lack of rain had produced a fine dust which coated the inside of Sarah's nose and penetrated the fabric of her clothes all the way to her skin. Much to Ellen's amusement, the dust had combined with sweat to turn Salty's face slate gray. Jared said he looked like he'd been dead for a month.

“You and Bones hold the herd until I get back,” Sarah told her daughter. “Don't worry if a few get away. We'll catch them again.” She could understand Wallace wanting to own her land, but she couldn't understand him making such a serious accusation when there was no way he could prove it.

She hated to leave Ellen, but she couldn't allow Salty to face Wallace alone. Not after all the work the man had done in the last week. She didn't know how he managed to get out of bed each morning, or how he seemed to have more energy than any of them at the end of the day. She rode to where Salty still held the branding iron suspended over the calf and positioned herself between him and Wallace.

“Put that rifle away,” Sarah ordered Wallace. “I won't have you threatening anyone on my property.”

“That's my calf,” Wallace shouted.

“Its mother is over there, and she's wearing my brand.”

“It's a fresh brand.”

“So was the brand I saw your hands putting on a cow last week.”

“It was on my land.”

“And this cow is on my land. The brand is the only one the cow has ever had. Check it out,” she said to the man who she'd seen branding Wallace's cow.

Wallace pointed to the man, “Gary, check it out,” before pointing an accusing finger at Salty. “He ran that cow off my land.”

“Nonsense. How do I know the cow Gary was branding wasn't one of
mine
that had wandered onto your land?”

“It's like she says, boss,” Gary said to Wallace upon inspecting the cow. “That cow's never worn another brand.”

“Everybody knows you have to brand a calf with the brand its mother wears.” Salty hadn't lowered the branding iron, and he didn't release the calf. Now, without waiting for Wallace's response, he slapped the iron on the calf's flank. The calf bleated, and the nauseating smell of burned hair and hide assailed Sarah's nostrils. Sarah was sure she'd never again encounter that smell without feeling queasy at the memory of branding and castrating so many animals in such a short period of time. She was beginning to question whether she was cut out to be a rancher. Even a rancher's wife.

Salty stood and released the calf, which went bawling to its mother which was still imprisoned in the chute. After Salty handed the branding iron to Jared, he turned to face Wallace. “Every rancher has the right to brand any unbranded cows, steers, or bulls on his land. That's the law, and you can't change it.” He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed Ellen, Arnie, and Sarah. “We've spent the last week gathering maverick stock from the outlying parts of our ranch so we can avoid confrontations just like this.”

“What if my cows wander onto your land?” Wallace asked.

Salty turned to Gary. “Haven't you been given orders to brand any maverick stock on your boss's range?” Gary glanced uneasily at his boss. “You don't have to hesitate,” Salty said. “I know you have. Every rancher has been doing the same since the end of the war.”

Wallace turned to Sarah. “If you'd married me, this would never have happened.”

She couldn't tell Wallace the real reason she'd married Salty because she didn't want to say anything that would be disrespectful to Salty or hurt his feelings. In the short time she'd known him, she'd come to believe there
were
men in the world who understood kindness and gentleness, who didn't hesitate to show they cared for others, and who delivered more than they promised. Men women could depend on, could actually learn to care for, without having their emotions used against them. He deserved her support no matter what words were necessary to provide it.

“I don't love you. I do love him.”

Those weren't the words she'd wanted to say, but she figured it was the only thing she could say that would come close to making any sense to Wallace. Not that she expected him to understand that, either. Men like him didn't know how to love. All they understood was ownership and control. If they cared about anyone beyond themselves, it was other men they wanted to impress with their power or wealth, on occasion with the youth and beauty of their wives, or the number of their sons.

“But he's just a cowhand.”

Wallace apparently considered Salty to be on the same level as one of his cowhands. It would never occur to him that a man he paid to work for him could have the same intrinsic value as he had.

“He's not
just a cowhand
.” Jared looked indignant enough for both of them. “He's my stepfather, and I love him, too. He made this crutch for me and taught me how to heat branding irons.”

“Anybody could do that.”

What Wallace was incapable of understanding was that by taking the time to make the crutch and teach Jared how to heat branding irons, Salty had helped him believe he was worthy of Salty's time and attention. Seeing himself valued in the eyes of a man he admired was something Sarah couldn't do for her son, and that had warmed Sarah's heart toward Salty in a way that Wallace's money and power never could.

“Maybe anyone could,” Sarah said to Wallace, “but no one did.”

“I'd have been happy to do that and more if I'd known.”

Therein lay one of the important differences between the two men. Wallace had seen Jared many times since the end of the war but had never been interested enough to talk to him or learn anything about him. Salty cared just as much about Ellen as he did Jared. The only time Wallace had noticed Ellen was to tell her she had to act more like a girl if she ever intended to get a husband.

“We've wandered from the point of the conversation,” Salty said. “I think we can agree that each of us has the right to brand any maverick stock we find on our individual ranges. I gather you've already been doing that.”

“You're right, he has,” volunteered a young man Sarah remembered from a week ago. “When I asked if we shouldn't try to find out where they came from, he said they were on his land now so they were his.”

“That's the law,” Wallace declared. “Your man just said so.”

Sarah knew Wallace was within the letter of the law, but in her eyes it violated the spirit of cooperation that should exist between neighbors.

“I haven't branded any cows I saw wander onto our land,” Gary said. “Only ones I found already there.”

Sarah was tired of this conversation. It wasn't getting them anywhere. “There's no point in discussing what's been done or what might have been done. I would like to think we'd both drive back any unbranded cows we saw wander onto our ranges.”

“If you'll give me a couple of your irons, I'd be willing to put your brand on any mavericks I see wander off your range onto Mr. Wallace's,” Gary offered.

“As long as you're working for me, you ain't putting any brand but mine on a cow.” Wallace was so worked up, he was red in the face.

“That's okay,” Salty said. “Just drive it back and we'll brand it.”

“I'm not driving any cows off my land,” Wallace declared. “If it's on my land, it's mine.”

“Using that same argument, a cow will become ours as soon as it crosses onto
our
land.”

“If you brand even one of my cows, I'll have the sheriff down on you before the fire is cold.” Wallace was furious, but he'd backed himself into a corner.

“Thank you for coming over,” Sarah said to Wallace. “I would ask you to stay for supper, but we have more cows to brand before we can quit for the day. Now I have to get back to work. Ellen is too young to be left in charge of even a small herd for long.”

Wallace was reluctant to leave, but his cowhands had already turned and were heading home. There was little he could do but follow.

“I'll be watching you,” he said to Salty.

“Feel free to come by any time,” Salty said. “I can always use an extra hand with the branding. I'll be happy to teach you everything I know.”

Wallace was so offended anyone could think he would do his own work it was comical. He doffed his hat to Sarah, wheeled his horse, and galloped away.

“I don't like that man,” Jared said.

“You don't have to like everyone,” Salty said, “but you have to treat everyone fairly and kindly.”

Jared looked up at Salty from where he was seated on a low bench next to the fire. “He's not being fair to Mama. Why do I have to be fair to him?”

Salty sat down next to Jared, put his arm around the boy. “You'll be fair to him because it's the kind of person you are.”

“Why do I have to behave better than other people?”

“You don't base your behavior on what other people do. You base it on what you feel is right, what makes you feel good about yourself.”

Jared looked at Salty with a question in his eyes. “Do you think Mr. Wallace feels good about himself?”

“I don't know, but I'd guess he's too angry right now to feel very good about anything. Now you'd better get back to the fire before some of those irons get too hot to use.” Salty stood, ruffed Jared's hair making the boy smile up at him, his eyes filled with trust. “I don't know about you, but I want to get the rest of the branding done in a hurry. I'm hungry.”

In a few minutes, everyone was back in place and the branding took up where it left off before the interruption, but Sarah felt there had been a shift in the relationships that connected her family to Salty. He was taking his position at the head of the family without pushing her aside. Ellen already thought he could do anything. Now Jared was turning to him for guidance. He'd even managed to turn Arnie into a cooperative worker. What about her?

She wasn't ready to put her relationship with Salty into words because her feelings were evolving too rapidly to be quantified. She did know Salty had become a very important part of her life in a way that didn't involve the children, and that scared her senseless. She didn't want to fall in love.

* * *

The next afternoon, Wallace's youngest cowhand rode up. Sarah recognized him straight off and wondered what he was doing there. It seemed unlikely her neighbor would have sent a message with him.

He rode up to the house and dismounted, then removed his hat before he spoke. “Howdy.” He colored slightly, as though unsure how to start.

“Can I help you?”

He looked around at the house and the surrounding trees before glancing back at her. “I was wondering if you could use an extra hand.”

“Don't you work for Henry Wallace?” she asked.

“He fired me. Said I didn't have any loyalty. He didn't like what I said when we was here yesterday.”

Sarah sighed. “I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere. I can't afford to pay you.”

“I'm not asking for much,” he admitted. “Wallace is going to make sure nobody else gives me a job.”

“You don't understand. I can't afford to pay you
anything
. Until my…husband and I sell our steers later this summer, I can't even pay Arnie.” She stumbled over the word
husband
. “I don't even have a bunkhouse for you to sleep in.”

“Where does Arnie sleep?”

Sarah was caught in a quandary. How could she tell this boy that her husband slept in the shed while Arnie slept in a wagon?

“Arnie sleeps in one of our wagons. He covers himself with a bedroll if it rains.”

Much to her surprise, the boy burst out laughing. “You don't pay him, and he sleeps in a wagon. Do you feed him?”

She felt herself grow warm from embarrassment. “Of course we feed him! We're not so poor I can't manage to put food on the table.” She was so unused to saying
we
, she stumbled over it every time.

“Well, I have a rain slick to keep me dry, so I'll be satisfied with the same deal.”

She'd always made the decisions about who worked for her, but that hadn't always worked out so well. Also, she was no longer the sole arbiter of what happened on the ranch. Despite what she'd said about maintaining control, she wanted Salty to make some of the bigger decisions. “You'll have to talk to Salty. He's out by the corral, teaching Jared to ride.”

Her heart had caught in her throat when Salty told her son it was about time he learned to ride a horse. Only the look of happiness on Jared's face had kept her from objecting to the danger.

“That the little boy who was tending the fire?” the young cowhand asked, squinting as he turned to look through the break in the trees to the corral. “He spoke right up, didn't he, when Mr. Wallace said those things about your husband? That's what made me decide to come here. I figured if a kid with a bad leg liked him, he must be right decent. Er, no offense.”

“You figured right,” Sarah said. “Now, I have to get started cooking if there's going to be any supper to put on the table. You need to see Salty.”

“Salty? That's a right peculiar name for a man.”

“It's a nickname. I don't think he much likes Benton.”

The youngster grinned. “Don't like my name, either. Maybe that's why I didn't introduce myself earlier. Dobie. Dobie Carlisle.”

Sarah didn't see too much to like about the name Dobie, but she guessed it didn't matter. A man was what he made of himself, not what he was called.

“Be looking forward to supper,” Dobie said before heading toward the corral.

Sarah couldn't help but think how much had changed in her life. A month ago, no one would work for her; now Salty and two other men were working without pay, her herd was being branded and her son taught to ride. She shook her head to dislodge the sense of unreality. It seemed impossible that one man could make so much difference in such a short time. She still needed to sort through all the changes and how she felt about them, but more important was fixing supper. She couldn't imagine what would happen if five hungry workers showed up at her table to find it empty. That was one change she didn't want.