No One But You (22 page)

Roger slammed his knife against the table. “I'm your husband. I have the right to make you obey me!”

Sarah turned to face him, her hands on her hips. She was pleased she could promise, “If you so much as touch me, Salty will tear you apart.”

Roger laughed. “You must think a lot of yourself.”

She picked up two more plates. “I don't, but Salty does. If you don't believe me, just call me a whore. That was what you were going to say, wasn't it? If there's anything left of you when he finishes, Arnie will feed it to the pig.”

Roger's look was scornful, yet it contained an element of surprise and uncertainty. “What's gotten into you? You were never like this before.”

Sarah had lifted the plate of sausage, intending to put it away, but she turned back to Roger. “That was before I was left to manage a ranch by myself for six years. Before I raised two children from infancy on my own while doing all the chores. Before I married a man who respects my intelligence as much as my person, a man who believes my wishes and desires are just as important as his.”

“No other man is that crazy.”

Sarah turned to the stove. “I would have agreed with you before I met George Randolph.”

“Who the hell is
he
?”

“He commanded a troop during the war. He's married to a woman he adores. And it was Salty who made me believe I was worthy of being loved the same way George loves his wife.” She picked up Roger's plate and took it to the sink.

“Bring that back! I haven't finished.”

“Your ten minutes are up. Salty's waiting.”

“How do you know?”

The sound of a hammer was clearly audible.

“That's how I know. Now get out there and start helping him. Nobody eats at my table without having put in a full day's work.”

Roger sat motionless, staring at her, apparently caught between the impulse to treat her as he had so long ago and a feeling that something important had changed, something he didn't understand and didn't believe was possible. But he harbored just enough doubt that he finally got to his feet and stalked out of the room and through the door.

Sarah hadn't realized how tense she was until practically every muscle in her body started to relax. The change was so abrupt she felt vaguely dizzy and nauseous. Anger as well as shock coursed through her. The shock was new, but the anger was old. Roger had turned his back on her because he'd felt she was unimportant. He'd ignored his children because he didn't value girls and couldn't accept a handicapped son. He'd gone to California because it looked like an easy way to get rich. He hadn't cared enough for his family to find out if they were well, were in need, or even if they had survived. Now, when he'd run out of options, he'd come back.

She started to put the food away. The meat could be used again and the hominy could go into gravy, but she'd have to think of a way to use the leftover eggs. They couldn't afford to throw out any food. Roger's return hadn't changed that.

Switching gears, she tried to put her children's father out of her mind and plan where they would ride today. Roger Winborne would be no more a part of her life than was necessary as the father of her children. There was no question about herself: she would do whatever the law required, but when all was said and done, he would no longer be able to claim her as his wife. She already had the only husband she wanted, and his name was Salty.

* * *

The moon and stars were so bright, and the sky so cloudless, there seemed virtually no chance of rain. Salty picked up his bedroll, grabbed a blanket, and headed for the front of the house. He'd made it clear that Roger was going to be sleeping in the shed from now on, but he didn't trust the man to stay there. Hoping to catch him off-guard if he was going to do anything stupid, and to confront him away from the children, he'd decided to sleep on the ground outside.

Despite the complications that Roger's return had made in his life, Salty had gotten over his bottled up anger. Working everything out about the two marriages was going to be tedious and unpleasant, but legal issues were involved, not issues that could be swayed by individual feelings. Salty was bone tired, because dealing with Roger Winborne for a whole day had been the most exhausting thing he'd ever done. The man would exhaust the patience of a saint, and Salty had never pretended to be a saint.

He checked to make sure the cows Sarah and Dobie had collected weren't pushing on the corral poles looking for a way out. It would be a couple of days before they could get around to branding them. He'd have to see about reinforcing the corral and making it bigger, especially for when George Randolph sent that bull calf. He would have to be kept in a pen and the cows brought to him; he was too valuable to let run wild.

The chickens were roosting in the tree in their enclosed yard. The pig was rooting around, looking for more food. He was putting on weight quickly. Salty had to decide whether to pen up the wild pigs when they got old enough to be weaned, or leave them to fend for themselves. He doubted he could provide them with enough food to fatten them up the way he wanted, but he didn't want to lose them to coyotes or wolves. Six people were depending on them for food for next year.

The garden was up and growing nicely. He was looking forward to fresh beans and peas, and his mouth watered when he thought of fresh tomatoes. There would be corn and squash. With luck, the squirrels wouldn't get all the pecans from the grove of trees along the creek. There was a lot of work still to be done, but on the whole everything was looking more prosperous. Having Arnie and Dobie had made a tremendous difference. Roger was another story.

With good help, Salty should have been able to finish the extra room in a couple of days. He'd figured any man would know how to do basic carpentry. If not, at least he could help. It was probable that Roger could do both with a reasonable degree of skill, but he was the laziest, most trifling man Salty had ever met. All he had done was talk. And ask questions. And make assumptions. And try to convince Salty that he was Sarah's
legal
husband, that her marriage to Salty was an easily correctable accident. It had taken nearly every bit of Salty's patience to ignore him.

Having reached the house, Salty stopped to decide on the best place to make his bed. He didn't want to sleep in front of the steps, but he didn't want to be more than a few feet away, either; he wouldn't put it past Roger to attempt to sneak inside. He finally settled on a spot about six feet from the stoop and laid out his bedroll. Settling his pillow, he folded the blanket double. He expected it would get a good deal colder outside than it did in the shed.

Despite being tired, he was too keyed up to sleep. He still had to figure out how to fix things. Roger had ruined supper for everybody. Everything he said seemed calculated to offend or anger someone. Jared was tight-lipped and sulky. Arnie smoldered silently, while Dobie tried to parry Roger's jibes. Sarah got so upset she turned pale. Even sunny-tempered Ellen had turned quiet. Salty had finally told Roger to shut up. Dobie said he talked more than a woman. Jared said he wished he'd never come back from California. Sarah said he'd have to eat outside by himself if he couldn't stop upsetting everyone.

Clearly Roger was learning to accept a lot of things he wasn't used to, but having his ex-wife tell him he'd have to eat outside wasn't one of them. The man lost color. He probably would have said something terrible if Dobie hadn't threatened to shove a knife between his ribs. That's when he said, “I never thought I'd see the day when a woman thought she had the right to tell her husband what to do.”

“You're not her husband.” Arnie said. “Salty is.”

Roger had lapsed into a brooding silence then stalked off after everybody was done eating. Salty didn't know where he'd gone and didn't really care, as long as he stayed away from the ranch house. He hoped he wouldn't have to see him until morning.

The wish wasn't fated to be fulfilled.

“What are you doing out here?”

Salty looked up to see Roger approaching, bedding under his arm.

“Something wrong with your bedding?” he asked.

Roger's steps slowed. “I decided I don't want to sleep in the shed.”

Salty felt his muscles tense. “You can sleep outside if you want, but it's warmer in that shed. Still gets chilly some nights.”

“I don't want to sleep outside, either. I'm going to sleep in the house.”

“I already explained why you can't sleep in the house,” Salty said. “Ellen and Jared have their bunks in one room, and Sarah sleeps in the other.”

“You want to sleep with Sarah when you finish the extra room, don't you?”

“Of course. She's my wife.”

“Why aren't you sleeping with her now?”

“That's between me and Sarah.”

“Doesn't sound like she wants to be your wife, if she won't sleep with you.”

He was clearly trying to aggravate Salty, to goad him into action. Salty decided to frustrate him by not commenting. The strategy was successful, because Roger's lips thinned and his eyes grew hard.

“Can't be much of a man if you can't convince your wife to sleep with you. Hell, I'd sleep with her every night whether she wanted me to or not.”

“I'm not you,” Salty said.

“You sure as hell aren't. I'd never be under the thumb of any woman, much less my wife.”

Roger obviously didn't understand love, or didn't believe it was possible—certainly not the kind that required mutual respect and consideration of your partner before yourself. “There's no point in talking about it. Now turn around and go back to the shed.”

“I wasn't planning to force myself on Sarah,” Roger pointed out. “Ellen can sleep with Sarah, and I can have her bunk.”

“You're not sleeping in the house,” Salty repeated.

“I guess I'll have to change your mind.”

Roger threw aside his bedding and approached Salty, his fists balled up and ready to strike.

Salty had expected the confrontation between himself and Roger to come to blows at some point. Reluctantly, he got to his feet and tried one last time to make peace. “Why don't you make it easy on everyone and just go sleep in the shed?”

“That's my house, Ellen and Jared are my children, and Sarah is my wife. It's my right to sleep in the house. Hell, it's my duty.”

“I'm not going to let you enter.”

“How are you going to stop me?”

“Any way I have to.”

The man rushed Salty like a bull, head down and arms flailing. Salty didn't know if that had worked for Roger in the gold fields, but it never worked for him in fights with other boys in town when he was growing up. He stepped aside and simply let the man rumble past.

Roger pulled up and turned, a surprised grin spreading over his face. “You're afraid of me.”

Salty shook his head. “I'm just giving you a chance to go back to the shed. You're
not
sleeping in the house.”

The grin stayed in place. “I think you're afraid.”

“If you can stand up and fight like a man, I guess you'll find out.”

The insult wiped the grin from Roger's face. Raising his fists, the man stepped forward to meet Salty, who was trying to determine what kind of fighter he was. Did Roger rely solely on punches? Would he go for more body contact mixed in, or would it turn into a wrestling match?

He stood poised in front of Salty, apparently waiting for him to strike first. “Aren't you going to fight?”

“You're the one who wants to fight,” Salty said. “All I want is to keep you from entering the house.”

“So you're just going to stand there?”

“Until I need to do something else.”

It appeared that Roger was unsure how to start a fight besides rushing blindly at his opponent. He hesitated before moving closer, then threw a tentative punch.

Salty blocked it. “If that's how you fought in the gold fields, no wonder they drove you out.”

“They didn't drive me out. I left.” Roger threw another punch, which Salty blocked as easily as the first.

“You make a habit of running away early, don't you? Did you leave the army before the war ended?”

“You bastard!”

Roger attacked in a flurry, but landed only glancing blows because Salty feinted left or right while offering a few punches of his own.

“Stand still and fight,” Roger shouted. “Are you a coward?”

“I can win this fight a half dozen ways,” Salty said. “I'm just trying to decide which will be the easiest.”

Roger charged a second time. It wasn't difficult to avoid him and land a sharp jab in his ribs as he lumbered past. The man's stride faltered, but he turned and attacked again almost immediately. The blows were weak, and both men soon backed off to take a breather with little visible hurt.

“If you want to win a fight,” Salty pointed out, “you have to apply steady pressure.” He danced forward, offering a series of quick shots to Roger's various body parts. “You don't try for the deciding blow right away.” Two more quick jabs to the stomach and he moved out of range. “You keep your opponent off balance and on the defensive, never knowing what you're going to do next.” He landed a quick uppercut and feinted left to avoid a body blow.

“Stand still, you son of a bitch!” Roger panted.

“If your opponent is bigger, stronger, or heavier, it's important to keep moving,” Salty continued. “Getting suckered into a slugging match is the dumbest thing you can do.” They exchanged some quick punches, and Salty danced away again.

“All that stuff you're saying is a bunch of horseshit. You're just dragging this out.”

Salty grinned, which so distracted Roger that Salty was able to land a punishing blow to the man's gut followed by another swift uppercut. Roger staggered. Salty pummeled him with a half dozen shots before moving out of range.

“Quit now,” Salty offered. “I'm not going to let you in the house.”

Roger closed with him and they grappled, and at close range they pounded each other with blow after blow. Stomach. Ribs. Jaw. Nose. Chest. No part was spared. Roger wasn't a good fighter, but he was strong and his punches hurt.

A boy's voice rang out: “Hit him again. That's not hard enough!”

Salty was so startled, Roger was able to land a punch that staggered him. He moved back a couple of steps. “Get back inside,” he said to Jared.

“Not until you pound him into the ground.”

Roger put all his weight behind a punch. It made him just slow enough that Salty was able to avoid him and land a punishing blow of his own.

“That's right!” Jared encouraged. “Knock the bastard out.”

“Why are you pulling for
him
?” Roger asked. “I'm your father.”

“You've never been my father, and you never will.”

His son's disloyalty angered Roger so much that he turned, giving Salty an opportunity to land several punishing blows. Roger stumbled badly but didn't go down. He staggered upright and glared, bleeding from his nose and mouth.

“Why don't we stop now?” Salty asked. “I don't want to humiliate you in front of your son.”

Roger's response was to close in once more for another series of punches. He was growing weaker, but he wasn't ready to give up. It looked like one of them was going to have to be knocked out. Salty was determined it wouldn't be him.

As he lost energy, his punches lost power and Roger started to lean on Salty, to wrap his arms around Salty's middle and rain ineffectual blows down on his back. Salty finally punched him in the kidney, causing the man to fall to his knees.

“Are you ready to quit now?”

Roger got to his feet and attacked, but his swings lacked direction.

“Knock him down,” Jared said. “I hate him.”

Salty struck twice. “You don't hate him. You're just angry at him.”

“I
do
hate him. I want you to knock him dead.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Salty noticed Arnie approaching from the direction of his wagon. He was followed by Dobie. That unsettled him so much Roger was able to land a punch.

“Pay attention,” Arnie shouted.

“It would be easier without an audience,” Salty grunted.

The prospect appeared to have energized Roger. He came in with a flurry of punches so forceful it took Salty a moment to regain his balance.

“Quit being easy on him,” Dobie called. “Put an end to this so I can get some sleep.”

“We
all
need some sleep.” Sarah had come out of the house. An excited squeal told Salty Ellen had come out, too. This was turning into a farce. He had to bring the fight to an end, and as quickly as possible.

He waited for an opening. When Roger took a swing, missed, and was off balance, Salty moved in. He landed another series of punches to Roger's gut. When Roger doubled over in pain, Salty kneed him in the jaw.

“Way to go. Hit him again!”

Roger was all but beaten, but he still wouldn't go down. As he rose and swung, Salty finished with a direct shot to his throat. The man fell, gasping.

“Is he going to die?” Ellen asked.

“Naw,” Arnie said. “He'll live to make some other woman's life hell.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

“You want me to help drag him back to the shed?” Dobie asked, eyeing the wheezing and bloody Roger.

“Go on and get your sleep,” Salty replied. “He can make it on his own.”

“Doesn't look like it to me,” Ellen said.

“I wish you'd killed him,” Jared growled. With that, he tucked his crutch under his arm and went back inside.

“Is he hurt bad?” Sarah asked.

Salty eyed him. “No. He just needs a few minutes to get his wind back.”

“I've never seen a fight,” Ellen said. “Do you think he'll want to fight again?”

“Let's hope not,” Sarah said. “Now it's time for you to go back to bed.”

“But I want to see what happens when he gets up!”

“Nothing's going to happen,” Salty said. “Your father's going back to the shed and to sleep.”

Such a tame ending obviously disappointed Ellen. She went inside without further protest.

“I'm sorry this had to happen,” Sarah said.

Salty shrugged. “There was nothing you could do. Roger had to try to get inside, and I had to stop him. Now that we've settled that, things should be easier.”

Sarah knew Salty was trying to reassure her. Maybe they would be easier in some respects, but there wouldn't be any true relief until they came up with a legal solution. It was possible for Sarah to divorce Roger and marry Salty again, but that would take a lot of time and money they didn't have, and it would put everyone through an emotional nightmare. He wanted to avoid that.

“I knew he'd try to come inside,” Sarah admitted. “I put a loaded shotgun next to my bed.”

Roger had managed to sit up. “You wouldn't use a shotgun on me.”

“Only as a last resort.”

“But I'm your husband. We were married.”

“You ran off and left us. Now, I'm going to bed. If you want any breakfast, you'll do the same. If you get into another fight with Salty, you'll have to leave until I can get a divorce. I won't allow you to upset my life again.”

“I have a right to be here,” Roger insisted. “No matter what you and this man think.”

Sarah had already gone inside, so Salty answered. “Then don't make it impossible for me to allow you to stay. Now go back to the shed.” When Roger showed no sign of picking up his bedding he asked, “Do you need some help?”

“This isn't over,” Roger snarled.

“It will take a judge to decide which marriage is legal, but until then you'll sleep in the shed and do your share of work. You'll show respect for Sarah, and you won't make any more belittling remarks about Jared. That boy has shown more courage and determination than all of us combined.”

Roger snorted. “He's a cripple.”

“His limitations are only physical. One of these days he's going to make you proud to call him your child.”

Roger laughed. “How?”

“There's not much he can't do when he sets his mind to it. I'd be proud to have him for a son.”

“Then you can have him.” Roger bent down to pick up his bedding. The beating he'd taken made it hard for him to stand up again, but Salty had no sympathy.

Roger turned, a look of surprise on his face when Salty growled, “You son of a bitch! What you've suffered is nothing compared with what Jared goes through every day, yet he endures it with grace and courage while you whine about your misfortune and bully anybody weaker than you. I'm glad Jared got nothing from you but his looks. He's already twice the man you think you are.”

“You don't know a damned thing about me,” Roger shouted.

“I know you were too blind to realize you'd married a wonderful woman. I know you were too shallow to know children like Ellen and Jared are gifts to be cherished. I know you were too lazy to keep a successful ranch running. I saw at least a hundred boys shot to pieces who should have come home to their families instead of you.”

“Is your vision so impaired you can't see anyone except yourself? Are you incapable of caring for anyone, or do you merely think it's unnecessary?”

“You don't know what—”

“How could you squander so many advantages? You had a working ranch handed to you, a beautiful wife who was willing to do virtually anything to earn your respect, and two wonderful children anxious to love you for no reason at all. Why would any man who wasn't criminally stupid throw all that away?”

“What kind of soldier were you?” Roger demanded angrily.

“A damned good one, but that appalling waste of life taught me at least one lesson you never learned.
Everybody
, young or old, plain or beautiful, is just as important as I am and therefore worthy of my respect. You spent years thinking you were better than others because you were handsome, but look at you now. You probably thought you were going to win the war by yourself only you never rose above the level of foot soldier. You chased the dream of easy riches and ended up with nothing. You never valued your family until you had no one else to turn to.”

Roger started to speak then changed his mind.

“You could have been a hero to your children just by coming home. You didn't have to win battles, be rich, or handsome. All you had to do was be their father.”

“They were babies.”

“Babies grow up. But you couldn't see beyond Jared's withered leg any more than you could see Sarah was more than just a wife, a possession to be owned like livestock. In your blindness, you wasted the two most valuable blessings a man can have, a faithful wife and loving children.”

“I know I didn't do everything I could—”

Salty didn't let him finish. “You didn't do anything except think of yourself.”

“I did come back.”

“Why?”

Roger seemed to be searching for an answer. For the first time in his life he might be about to admit he'd made mistakes.

“I felt like I belonged here. Nowhere else seemed like home.”

Salty wasn't sure he didn't really mean that nowhere else could he continue to live without regard for anyone but himself, but he was willing to credit the man with a small degree of self-realization. The war had changed him. It probably changed Roger, too.

“This ranch can never be your home again, but that's something to work out later. Go to bed. We both need some sleep.”

He sighed as he watched Roger hobble back to the shed. He was tired of Roger. He'd much rather think about Sarah, about the way she'd felt in his arms, the way she'd responded to his kisses, the way she looked when he said he loved her. Roger was a more serious obstacle to their happiness than holding the ranch together, but he'd nonetheless figure out a solution. He'd found everything he wanted in life here, and he wasn't about to let a worthless piece of cowhide like Roger Winborne take it away.