No One But You (9 page)

She couldn't imagine the dog doing anything she would call work, but she only had to look at the happiness in Jared's eyes to know Bones had already proved to be of some worth. She turned to the old man and said, “If you're willing to give him to my son, we'll see your dog has a good home.”

The old man didn't answer right away. Rather, he watched Jared and the dog. It was as though each had sensed a need in the other.

The thought flashed through Sarah's mind that this was similar to what happened when she first met Salty. She hadn't understood then what drew her to him, but now she began to. There was a kindness there that permeated everything about him. It wasn't just in the things he did. It was in the way he spoke, the way he smiled, the way he made a person feel at ease around him. The way he made people want to be around him. That's why she'd chosen him rather than Walter. It wasn't Jared at all. It was her. She wanted that kindness for Jared, of course, but she wanted it for herself, too. She hadn't realized how intense was her need until it overwhelmed her intellect and caused Salty's name to come out of her mouth.

The old man swung his gaze from Jared to Sarah. “I'll give you Bones. I know you don't want him, ma'am, but you'll be good to him because of your boy.” He turned to Salty. “You've had your eye on Bones ever since you heard I was giving up the ranch. Now that you've got a ranch of your own, I guess you need him more than I do.”

Sarah began to feel invisible. She had been Roger's widow and Jared and Ellen's mother for a time, important in her own right, but now she felt like just a wife again. Before her first marriage she'd been Frank Pettishall's daughter. She wanted to yell that she was not Mrs. Benton Wheeler any more than she'd been Mrs. Roger Winborne. She was Sarah, a strong, independent woman who had held her family together for six years on her own, a woman who'd chosen this man to be invited into her family, not the other way around. But she didn't say any of that because it would have been unfair to Salty.

“We'll take good care of Bones,” her new husband promised the old man. “We'll come by for him early in the morning.”

“Can't we take him now?” Jared asked.

“The hotel won't allow dogs,” Salty explained.

“What hotel?”

“The hotel we're staying in tonight.”

Ellen had lost interest in the conversation, but she perked up now. “I've never been inside a hotel!”

Salty set a time to pick up the dog, and they left. Sarah had to talk to him about doing things without consulting her first. He'd bought all that stuff for the ranch on his own initiative, cornered her into accepting a dog she didn't want, and now he was going to spend money to stay in a hotel when there was no reason they couldn't sleep outside just as they had done all the way to the Randolphs' and back. He seemed sensitive to her feelings but still he kept making decisions without her.

Their walk back through town was slow because Salty insisted Jared walk alongside them. By leaning on his arm, the boy managed. Jared tried not to show it, but Sarah knew how much the effort of limping cost him. She was grateful to Salty for stopping several times to give her son a chance to rest.

Salty kept up a running conversation with the children about all the buildings they passed, and about what they could buy here or there, or about what kind of business was conducted inside. Her children had only a vague idea of the importance of a newspaper, lawyers, and the bank. Jared found it incredible that anyone could be rich enough to have someone else bake their bread, while Ellen thought women were foolish to want dresses like the fancy gown she saw in a dress shop window. Isolation had deprived them of the knowledge and experience that nearly every other child their age took for granted. That made Sarah feel like a failure—a feeling that only intensified after seeing where Salty insisted they eat supper.

The Bon Ton Restaurant was over half full when they entered. Compared to everyone else, Sarah and her children looked like beggars. Her dress was faded from too many washings, and thin from too much use. Her children's clothes had been patched to cover wear and tears in the fabric. Even Salty looked like a common cowhand.

The children were too excited to be aware of the stares, but Sarah couldn't understand why Salty seemed equally unconcerned. The three settled happily around a table. From the way the waitress looked at them, Sarah wouldn't have been surprised if she demanded proof they could pay before taking their orders.

Jared's eyes grew wide when the waitress listed all his choices. “Can I order anything I want?” he asked.

“Sure,” Salty said. “Everyone can.”

“How much is it going to cost?” Sarah asked.

“It don't make no difference whether you get chicken, pork, or beef,” the waitress told her. “All the plates cost the same. Children's plates cost half.”

Sarah was so agitated she doubted she could eat much. She sat in hard-held silence while Jared and Ellen discussed their choices with the waitress, who grew impatient with their questions. She wanted to explain that her children had never been in a restaurant, that being given a choice was an experience to be drawn out and savored. Ellen settled on pork chops in gravy, while Jared wanted baked chicken with sage dressing. When the waitress told him that would take about thirty minutes to prepare, he offered to order something else, but Salty said they would wait.

Sarah itched to kick Salty's ankles under the table until he couldn't walk. She'd rather eat a rabbit stew cooked over an open fire than be stared at by the other customers and practically sneered at by their waitress. Didn't he have any pride? How could he sit here knowing what everybody thought of them?

The waitress turned to Sarah. “What do you want, ma'am?”

“My wife and I will have the meatloaf,” Salty said. “George Randolph tells me it's the best in Austin.”

The change in the waitress's attitude was instantaneous. “You know Mr. Randolph?” She actually smiled. “Folks here haven't forgotten the ruckus he kicked up when he met his wife in here. Every time Dottie hears he's in town, she swears she won't let him through the door, but she always does. I think she's got a soft spot for him.”

Sarah felt more lost than ever. What exactly had George Randolph done when he met Rose, and why did Dottie—whoever she was—object to him coming into the restaurant?

“George had a little disagreement with a man who was mistreating her,” Salty explained. “It might not have meant much, but Rose's father was a Union officer and a friend of General Grant. When George married her, it made quite a stir.”

The waitress left, and Salty filled the following minutes with stories about growing up on his father's farm, a few tales about funny things that happened during the war, and plans for what he hoped to do when they got back to the ranch. Sarah was thankful the children were so interested in his stories they missed the interest their presence in the restaurant had created.

After what seemed an eternity, their food arrived. The meatloaf was very good, but Sarah couldn't enjoy it. She couldn't escape the feeling that everyone around them believed she shouldn't be here. She thought it was significant that none of the departing customers spoke to them on the way out.

“Aren't you going to eat your supper?” Ellen asked.

“I'm not hungry.”

“Can I have your meatloaf?” Jared spoke up.

“I asked first,” Ellen said.

Sarah divided her uneaten meal between her two children and watched them devour every morsel. That made her feel like she never fed them enough, or that what she cooked wasn't good enough to excite their appetites. She knew Salty wasn't trying to show her how she'd failed to provide for her children, but he'd done so just the same. Both kids were looking at him like he had the answer to every question, that he could change any situation and make it better. Hadn't he turned their waitress's attitude from scorn to cheerful helpfulness? Hadn't he convinced a gruff old man to part with his treasured dog? Now he'd taken them to a restaurant and was going to pay for them to stay in a hotel. The difference he'd made in their lives was already so great they were bound to start turning to him rather than her.

Sarah thought she might feel better after they left the restaurant, but she didn't. Salty handing over the money for their two hotel rooms so casually you'd think his pockets were bulging with it made her feel worse than ever. Her children were so excited that not even full stomachs after a long, tiring day could slow them down. Both inspected every corner of the lobby, trying out the chairs and sofas, picking up magazines to look for pictures, and then paused longest in front of a buffalo head mounted on the wall. It was nearly as big as they were.

“Will I have my own bed?” Ellen asked.

“You'll have to share with your mother,” Salty told her.

“What about Jared?”

“He'll share with me.”

Sarah could practically see Jared stand a little straighter. It was probably the happiest he had felt about himself in ages, and someone other than his mother had been the one to do it.

All of her anger and frustration spilled over. “I want to speak to you,” she told Salty. “Now,” she added, when he didn't respond immediately.

Sarah tried to keep her voice level so the children wouldn't realize she was upset. They were unlikely to have another day like this for a long time, and she didn't want to ruin it for them.

“Do we have time to get the children settled into their rooms first?” Salty asked.

“We didn't bring anything from the wagon,” Sarah pointed out.

“I had everything sent over from the livery stable when we left the horses and the livestock there.”

Ellen looked around. “I don't see my clothes.”

“Everything is in your rooms,” the clerk told them. “Mr. Wheeler had the man from the livery stable reserve the rooms when he brought over your luggage.”

Sarah knew if she wasn't able to get things off her mind soon she was going to explode. “It shouldn't take more than a few minutes to settle them in their rooms.”

“I'll be ready when you are,” Salty said.

Unable to say any of the things burning on the end of her tongue, Sarah took the key and headed up the stairs. Her room was on the third floor in the back. It was small and minimally furnished with a bed, chest, a ladder-back chair, and a stand with a bowl and pitcher. Their luggage and one of the bags Rose had given them had been placed on the bed.

“I don't know why they put this bag here,” Sarah said as she moved everything off. “It should have gone to Jared's room.”

“Maybe Mrs. Randolph meant these clothes for me.” Ellen walked over to the bag and opened it. “I can wear anything he can.”

Sarah began taking out things they would need for bed. “She said she regretted not having anything to give you.”

“Then why did she give me this?”

Sarah turned to see her daughter holding up a dress that was clearly meant for a woman, not a child.

“There are more of them,” Ellen announced.

Sarah tossed aside the nightgown she was holding and took the bag. Inside were two more dresses. Rose had given her some of her own clothes.

“Are they for me?” Ellen asked.

“No,” Sarah said.

“Good. I don't want any dresses.”

Neither did Sarah. Rose hadn't told her what she was doing, because she probably guessed Sarah wouldn't accept them. This wasn't Salty's fault, but it just added to her grievances. Was everybody determined to show her just how badly she'd managed her life since her husband deserted her? She was caught between appreciation for Rose's kindness and impotent rage at her own helplessness.

“Can you get ready for bed on your own?” she asked her daughter.

“I'm not a baby, Mama.”

Of course she wasn't. It was proof of how upset Sarah was that she had forgotten Ellen had gotten herself ready for bed all year. “Good. I have to talk to Salty.”

Ellen jumped up on the bed. “I'm glad you married him. I've never been in a hotel before.”

Sarah burned to say there were many things more important than staying in hotels, but Ellen was seven and things like that made a big impression on her. “I'm glad you like him.”

“So does Jared.”

So did that waitress and the old man. So did everybody. Why was it everything worked for Salty but not for her? “See if Jared needs any help, and tell Salty I want to talk to him.”

Leave it to children to sense what you were trying to hide from them. “Is anything wrong?” Ellen asked.

“We just need to talk over some things. Now, hurry. We need to get to bed because we have a long day tomorrow.”

Uncharacteristically, Ellen left with dragging feet. She must have sensed that her mother was unhappy with Salty and was reluctant to carry the message. What had she done?

Sarah tossed the dress aside. She hadn't asked for it and didn't want it. She wasn't helpless, was she? Yes. Even worse, she was inadequate. She'd had to marry a man to do all the things she was unable to do. That he seemed to do everything effortlessly just made her failure seem worse.

She heard a knock at the door. “It's Salty. Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

She had expected her frustration to burst forth from her and bury him, but when she started to speak she didn't know where to begin. She couldn't accuse him of trying to make her feel useless or of trying to steal her children's affection; she was sure he was only doing what he thought would help—which was why she'd married him. Yet she couldn't stay quiet or she'd snap. “We need to talk.”

“What about?”

“About everything.”

She wished she knew what was hiding behind that limpid gaze. A lot more than Salty let on. He gave the appearance of being easygoing and content, but his eagerness to have some land of his own, his disappointment when she said he didn't fit her requirements, and his shock when she chose him, were all signs of a deeper well of emotion he kept out of sight. Just as indicative was the connection he'd made with Jared. He had managed to make her son feel he understood the limitations of that withered leg, but that those limitations didn't in any way affect his estimation of Jared as a person. No one but she and Ellen had ever been able to do that.

“In that case we'd better sit down. Do you want the chair or the bed?”

“I'll take the bed.”

But she felt silly perched there, preparing to have a formal conversation with a man she'd married that morning. Everything was out of kilter. She wondered if her life would ever feel normal again.

“I'm feeling left out of all the decision-making. I know it's your money you're spending, but it's my family you're spending it on and I don't understand why. I know this sounds ungrateful, but I'm not sure I want it.”

“Is that all?”

Is that all?
His response was so unexpected she wasn't sure how to respond. “Isn't that enough?”

“I thought something important was worrying you.” He started to rise. “We have a long day tomorrow. I'd better—”

“Something important
is
worrying me.”

He sat back down. “What?”

“I feel like I'm losing control of my life.” That sounded a little like a child whining. “You're making all the decisions. I either have to agree or sound like an ogre.” That sounded petty and ungrateful. “What I'm trying to say is, you're making decisions without consulting me. I'm not saying I disagree with them, but when they involve me and my children, I want to be consulted.”

“Since I'm your husband now, everything I do will involve you and the children.”

“Then I want to be consulted about everything.”

Salty's gaze narrowed. “I was under the impression that you wanted me to stay as far away from you as possible.” He averted his gaze. “You felt your attraction to me could be a problem.”

She felt heat rush up her neck and suffuse her face. “I don't see how that applies.”

“If I'm to discuss everything with you that involves the ranch or the children, as well as work with you, we're going to be spending most of our time together.” His gaze met hers. “It's possible that being around me that much would end any attraction you feel. However, it's possible the reverse might happen.”

Not if she continued to be as irritated with him as she was now. “I admit that I find you attractive, but since my desire to be consulted about everything involving my family is greater than my attraction to you, I don't think that will be a problem.”

She wished Salty wasn't so good at keeping his emotions from being reflected in his face. Even his eyes, usually the window to a person's inner thoughts, gave nothing away. Maybe this was part of his plan to kill her attraction for him.

If so, it wasn't working. She was more intrigued than ever. He was good, kind, generous, fun to be around, and her children liked him. He was dependable, capable, and utterly truthful. There was nothing to dislike about him. And like any woman, she was intrigued by what she couldn't figure out. Furthermore, she was convinced there was some sadness in his past that still affected him. She had a feeling his cheerfulness was partly camouflage to keep people from sensing that hurt. Like so many men, he'd chosen to bury his pain rather than bring it to the surface.

Salty stood. “I'll do my best to remember to consult you before I make any more decisions. If I forget, remind me. I'm used to being on my own.”

That was a strange thing to say, since he'd been working for the Randolph family, but she didn't challenge it. She'd already let herself become too curious about him. But she couldn't let him leave with nothing but complaints ringing in his ears. “I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful for what you've done. You've more than lived up to your part of the bargain so far. I'm sure you'll continue to do so. I just want to be included.”

“I understand,” he said. “Now I'd better go. Jared has some ideas about the ranch he wants to tell me.”

“Are you sure you don't mean Ellen?”

Salty flashed her an amused smile. “Ellen already told me what she thinks we ought to do. Jared has ideas, too, but he's afraid they won't be taken seriously because his leg has kept him from knowing as much as Ellen.”

Sarah wondered what she'd done to make Jared think she wouldn't listen to him. “What does he want to talk about?”

“I don't know yet.”

“Then how exactly do you know he wants to talk?”

Salty smiled. “Every seven-year-old boy wants to talk. They're so full of discoveries they're spilling over with things to say. I suspect Jared feels it's hard to be listened to when he's with you. I saw it in his eyes when we were talking about the ranch.”

“So you don't
know
he wants to talk.”

“No, but I've got a feeling he does. I learned from George Randolph never to ignore my feelings. They won't go away, so ignoring them just makes it harder to get to where you're supposed to be.”

Sarah couldn't shake the feeling Salty was talking about her, but he didn't know what it was like to be married to Roger. No attraction was worth that, no feeling powerful enough to make her change her mind. She knew where she wanted to be. She intended to get there with Salty's help, and then she would divorce him.

* * *

“Mama likes you.”

Salty turned from where he'd been putting things back into his bedroll. Jared was sitting up in bed, watching him with an eagerness that told him there had been too few men in his life he could trust.

“What makes you say that?” He wasn't asking because he wanted to know what Sarah thought about him; he already knew that. He wanted to know what Jared was thinking.

“She lets you do things.”

That was a little too vague for Salty. “What things?”

“She never let us stay in a hotel before. We never ate in a restaurant, either.”

“I paid for both.”

“I know. I don't think we have any money. Does that mean we're poor?”

“You're not poor, because you have a ranch.”

“I heard Arnie—he's the last man Mama hired—say the bank was going to take our ranch if she fired him.”

“What did your mother say?” Salty asked.

“She said if Arnie didn't pack his bags and leave within the hour, she'd set the sheriff on him.”

That sounded like Sarah Winborne: gutsy even when she didn't have a leg to stand on.

“I was glad he left. I didn't like him.”

“Why?”

“He wanted Mama to marry him. He said he'd make the ranch profitable if she did.”

“Why didn't she marry him?”

“She didn't like him. Ellen did, but I didn't.”

“Why did Ellen like him?”

“Arnie let her do things Mama said were dangerous for a girl, even a girl like Ellen.”

“He shouldn't have done that.”

“That's what Mama said. I think he must have been right about the bank. That's why Mama married you.”

Salty was surprised she would discuss something like this with two seven-year-olds. “Did she say that?”

“She said we didn't have enough money to pay a man to work for us. She said she would have to marry again, but she was going to divorce him as soon as she could pay the money she owed the bank.”

Apparently Salty had underestimated the ability of seven-year-olds. Jared had no difficulty understanding the situation.

“Why wouldn't you want your mother's husband to be your father?”

“I wouldn't want Arnie, but I wouldn't mind you.”

The conversation was moving along lines Salty hadn't anticipated. It was time he got to bed.

He hadn't shared a bed with a seven-year-old since he was a child himself, but he figured Jared would fall asleep within minutes after he blew out the lamp. He stripped down to his long underwear and admitted, “I'm not sure I'm cut out to be anybody's father. But if I was, you'd be my first choice for a son.”

“Why would you want a cripple for a son?”

Salty was about to blow out the lamp, but he figured this was one question that needed to be answered in the light. He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned to face Jared. The boy didn't look upset. Just curious. That said a lot for Sarah's determination to help Jared think of his leg as a simple problem that could be dealt with, not something that made him a lesser person. Salty was glad of that.

“There's a lot about you that's more important than your leg. I know that must be hard to believe sometimes, especially when it keeps you from doing things other boys can do, but it's who you are inside that makes me say I'd be proud to be your father.” Jared had probably heard that so often he had started to think of it as an excuse people used when they couldn't think of anything else to say. “I'm not going to tell you that your leg won't make life harder for you. It will. I'm not going to tell you it won't keep you from doing things you want to do. You already know that. Nor am I going to tell you that people won't think less of you because of it. You know that, too.”