“I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.”
She was being evasive, not meeting his gaze, her hands twisting in her lap. She even shifted in her seat. Something was nagging at her, and he meant to find out what it was.
“Why did you come here instead of going to San Antonio? Surely you could have found dozens of men there eager to take you up on your offer.”
She looked directly at him. “Nine men have worked for me in the six years since my husband left, but there wasn’t one among them I would trust enough to marry. I came here because I was told George Randolph had hired some of the most trustworthy and dependable men in the area.”
“If George thinks I’m dependable and trustworthy—you can ask him and Rose if you like—then you can, too.”
She was avoiding his gaze again. He liked looking at her eyes. They were so large they seemed to dominate her face. They were an indeterminate shade that could go from blue to green depending on her setting. Or mood. They were impossible to ignore. They pulled you in.
“It’s not just a matter of trust.”
“What else?” She was hiding something, something she didn’t want him to know.
“I don’t think you’re the right person.”
“Why?” He wasn’t going to give up easily. This was the chance he’d been hoping for since he left Georgia.
“You’re too young.”
“I expect I’m older than you.”
“Probably, but you’re young enough to want to marry and start your own family. I need someone who’s beyond that. Besides, being young could present other problems.”
“What problems?” He had an idea where she was going, but he wanted her to spell it out. She dropped her gaze to her lap and her hands started to twist again.
“Young men have…needs. I understand that, but it would be embarrassing to have a man presumed to be my husband consorting with women of that type.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if everyone knew our marriage was simply a business arrangement.”
She looked up. “You would be my legal husband. Who would believe you never entered my bed?”
She had a point. Women had few legal rights, wives virtually none and no protection against a husband.
“Why not make the same offer without marriage?”
“I have my reputation to consider. No one is going to believe a man can live with me for several years without…” She left the sentence unfinished. “If my reputation weren’t enough, I have two children to consider. Anything that hurts me would hurt them even more. An older man, especially one who has had children of his own, would be better able to control his appetites and understand my children.”
“Not every man is going to be able to understand your children’s very different needs regardless of their age or if they’ve had children of their own. Jared needs to believe he’s as much a man as anyone with two good legs. You’ve allowed Ellen to act like a boy for so long she doesn’t know how to be a girl.”
“She’s only seven. She has plenty of time to learn to be a girl.”
“Not when she’s been brought up to value herself according to what we expect of a boy. Have you told her how pretty she is? Put her in a frilly dress?”
Stung by his criticism, Sarah met his gaze squarely. “I do not treat her like a boy, nor do I value her only for the work she does. I tell her she’s pretty a dozen times a day. I’ve made dresses for her, but she won’t wear them. She is the one who has decided that she must do the work that would normally be expected of Jared. She is the one who insists on taking care of him. When I’ve asked her why she feels she has to do so much, she tells me it’s because she’s been given the body Jared should have had. She knows better than anyone what being crippled has done to him.” She didn’t speak again until her breathing had slowed. “I’m sorry if I’ve spoken too forcefully, but I won’t allow anyone to criticize my children.”
Salty did a little mental backpedaling of his own. He hadn’t meant to criticize her, only point out what he saw as problems. “I don’t think my lack of years will be a bar in understanding your children,” Salty said. “It might even be a help. They wouldn’t see me as so different from them.”
“For a seven-year-old, thirty is old.”
“I’m only twenty-seven.”
“You’re older than I am.”
“A man should be older than his wife.”
“We’re not talking about a normal husband-wife arrangement,” Sarah reminded him.
“What if they start to like the man and feel about him as they would their father? Do you mean to tell them it’s a marriage in name only?”
“Yes.”
“How are they going to react?”
He could tell from her confusion she didn’t have an answer to that. “I don’t know, but I can’t lie to them.”
He had to give her credit for bedrock honesty. If she agreed to accept him, he would never be in doubt of where things stood between them. He didn’t want any emotional entanglements, either. He believed people were incapable of living together peacefully. Sooner or later there would be another war somewhere. He had no intention of fathering sons to die anonymous deaths on some battlefield, be it distant or near.
“Are those your only objections to me?” he asked Sarah.
She stood and crossed to a window that provided a view of the lane leading up to the ranch house. Right now it was a rough path cut through the stark landscape. George and Jeff had already outlined plans for plantings of trees, shrubs, and flowers that would meld the house and its setting. They were still discussing what to do about the other buildings.
“This is rather difficult to say,” Sarah said without turning around to face Salty. “I don’t wish to hire anyone I find attractive. I’m no different from other women. I get lonely. You seem to be a very nice man. Once I get to know you, it’s possible I might begin to think of a different kind of relationship.” She turned around, her expression set. “My life has been controlled by men who took no thought for my comfort, wishes, or happiness. Things have been difficult since my husband left, but it has been my life. I want it to stay that way.”
Salty was surprised a woman as pretty as Sarah would find him attractive. That hadn’t occurred often. When it came to expressing any feeling that was important to him, his tongue would promptly tie itself in knots, and nothing he said would make any sense.
“Since you’ve put your cards on the table, it’s only fair that I do the same,” Salty said. “I think you’re a very pretty woman, but I’m not much for romance. I can never think of sweet things to say, and I can’t imagine why a man would want to sit out of an evening in the moonlight unless it’s summer and it’s hotter inside the house. You can stop worrying that I’ll turn into some kind of lovesick calf. Even Rose says I’m a hopeless case.”
Sarah’s smile was strained. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Probably worse, but that’s not all I wanted to say. Everything my family had was destroyed in the war. Taking you up on your offer is the best chance I’ll ever have of getting some land of my own. A man needs something of his own just to call himself a man. If you’ll pick me, I promise not to have a single romantical notion in my head. And if you start getting them, I’ll be so cold and mean you’ll get shut of them faster than a calf with a wolf on its tail can bleat for its mama.”
Sarah’s smile seemed genuine, but it didn’t look like anything Salty had said had caused her to change her mind. He got to his feet.
“I’ve said my piece so I’ll go. There are other fellas here, all good men. Maybe you’ll find one of them more to your liking.”
“It’s not a matter of liking. It’s—”
“I understand. I’m just not what you want.”
She appeared about to say something else but didn’t.
“I expect you
’ll want to join everybody in the kitchen. It’s the last door down the hall on your right. You can’t miss it. There’s always some kind of commotion wherever Rose happens to be.”
Salty left the room before she could say anything else. He had lost his chance. He practically ran down the front steps and was halfway to the bunkhouse before he could take his first full breath. He hadn’t realized he was so tense. Sarah’s proposal had taken him by surprise. He’d thought he’d accepted that he wasn’t going to have the kind of land he wanted where he wanted it. He’d thought he was even looking forward to working for George. The brothers were a difficult and restless bunch, but he liked all of them, even Jeff. Sarah’s offer of half her ranch had knocked over his carefully pieced together acceptance of what the future held for him because he wanted a chance to earn that land.
He knew the chance she was offering would mean years of backbreaking work. He was certain there would be times when he questioned his sanity in being married to a woman he found attractive but couldn’t touch. There were already nights when need racked his body so hard he couldn’t sleep, and being close to a woman like Sarah would intensify it several times over. Why should he set himself up for that kind of torture?
Because of the land, the chance to own something of his own.
He entered the bunkhouse and headed for the corner that had been his home since the last board was nailed in place a few months earlier. He’d thought he could be happy here, would be content to have his own bed, a place for all his belongings, and some wall to decorate if he wished. No more sleeping out in all kinds of weather. No more eating meals cooked over a campfire. He was working for a family he liked and a man he admired. What more could a penniless ex-soldier want?
He plopped down on his bed. It would take very little to make him happy. First was a place of his own. Next would be friends. He really didn’t need anything after that. He knew what kind of responsibility a wife and family would be. If things had been different, he might have thought differently, but they weren’t so there was no point in thinking about it.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bunkhouse door opening.
Walter Swain came in shivering and rubbing his hands together. “I was hoping you’d have a fire going. That wind is as sharp as a knife.”
“No point in heating the bunkhouse when George will probably ask us to hang around after supper.”
“I hope so.” Walter walked to his bunk to take off his heavy coat and hang it up. “I get a chuckle out of some of the things Zac says.”
Walter Swain, a forty-seven-year-old widower with two grown children, was a big, burly man who was as strong as an ox and as easygoing as a summer breeze. He never complained. He could work from dawn to dusk and get up the next day and do it again. He would work as hard as he must to make Sarah’s ranch successful, would probably grow to be fond of her children, and was the kind of man who would be respected in any community. He didn’t drink, saved his money, and never seemed to feel the loss of female companionship. He would become so much a part of her family she’d probably never ask him for a divorce. He’d be a friend and companion, a partner and confidant, but he’d never be the kind of husband a woman like Sarah deserved.
Of course, Sarah didn’t want a husband. She wanted a friend and companion. She wanted a partner and confidant. Salty could be all of those, but he wouldn’t get the chance because Sarah was attracted to him. It didn’t seem fair that something which should have brought him pride would make him unhappy.
He had to figure out how to talk Sarah into changing her mind. She was too young to turn herself into a middle-aged woman, which was what marrying Walter would do. He didn’t want her need for security to cut her off from being open to finding a man she could love and want to marry.
“Whose horse and wagon is that I saw in the barn?” Walter asked.
“A war widow and her two kids,” Salty said. “I expect you’ll meet them at supper.”
“Any particular reason why she stopped here?” Walter pulled off his boots to put on the shoes he would wear up to the house.
“She’s looking to hire someone to help her on her ranch.”
“This is cow country.”
“I expect she has cows, too.”
“Why has she come here instead of Austin or San Antonio?”
“You’d better let her tell you that. I just met her myself.”
“I’ll look forward to meeting her. Maybe she’ll have some news.”
Walter didn’t ask if the widow was young or pretty. That’s why he would be perfect for her.
* * *
Sarah had remained in her chair after Salty left, more shaken than she cared to admit. She had never had any trouble telling a potential hand that he didn’t fit her needs. Nor had she had any trouble replacing them when they failed to do their job. So why did she feel bad about telling Salty he wasn’t what she was looking for?
Okay, so she found him attractive. It wasn’t like he was so handsome she’d dream about him tonight. She probably found him attractive because he seemed very nice, had a sense of humor, and had been kind to Jared and Ellen. She was, however, annoyed at him for thinking she’d treated Jared like an invalid while forcing Ellen to do the work usually expected of a boy. She’d done everything she could to treat her children normally, but her situation wasn’t normal. There was no sense in taking herself to task over Salty’s disappointment. If he was as hardworking and dependable as Rose said, he’d find a way to own his own land.
Rather than give herself an opportunity to continue to think about Salty, she left the parlor and headed for the kitchen. The voices coming through the open doorway made it easy to find. She paused in the doorway. Jared was sitting on a stool next to Rose. Ellen was on her other side, as interested as her brother in what Rose was doing.
“I don’t usually do this,” Rose was saying, “but you’re company so I have an excuse.”
“Don’t people like them?” Jared asked.
“They like them too much. If Zac had his way, I’d never cook anything else.”
“It sounds fascinating,” Sarah said, entering the kitchen. “Who’s Zac, and why wouldn’t he want you to cook anything else?”
“She’s making doughnuts,” Ellen said, turning to her mother with a big smile. “She said she’d teach me how if I wanted.”
“Zac is my husband’s youngest brother,” Rose told Sarah. “He’s the same age as your children and spoiled beyond redemption.”
Ellen and Jared were cutting the holes out of doughnuts and handing the dough back to Rose.
“You can see why I don’t do this often,” Rose said. “George has five brothers and we have three hands just now. With the three of you, that makes twelve. At two doughnuts each, that’s two dozen.”
“You have that many already,” Sarah pointed out.
“They’ll want a couple more before they go to bed. They’d eat a dozen apiece if I’d let them.”
Sarah felt a pang that she’d never made doughnuts with her children, but there had been no time or money for anything as frivolous as that. Over the next half hour, Sarah helped Rose cook the doughnuts in a pot of boiling fat. As soon as the doughnuts were laid out to cool, Jared and Ellen sprinkled them with sugar. When they were done, the children counted forty-two.
“I think that’s enough for one day,” Rose said, surveying their work. “Now we have to put them in a tin before Zac and Tyler come in to help me with supper. Jared, I’m going to put you in charge of the tin. You’re not to let Zac or any of the others have a doughnut until after supper. Would you do that for me?”
“How am I supposed to stop them?”
Rose handed over a large wooden spoon. “Give them a whack with this. That ought to slow them down.”
Jared looked at the spoon like it was a rattlesnake.
Rose pressed it into his
hand. “I haven’t been able to figure out how to keep Zac and Tyler from stealing sweets,” she said. “Zac has mastered the art of putting a whole cookie in his mouth and still being able to talk. I tell him he’s got pouches in his cheeks like a squirrel.”
Sarah couldn’t imagine having a child behave like that. She had done exactly what she was told as a child. On the few occasions she hadn’t, the punishment had been quick and harsh. Her own children had never required punishment. Jared wasn’t able to get in trouble, and Ellen never thought of anything except helping take care of her brother and helping with the ranch in any way she was able.
“It’s time to think about fixing supper,” Rose said. “I wonder where the boys are.”
“I’ll be glad to help,” Sarah offered.
“You’re company.”
“Company that wasn’t invited. I insist on helping.”
“I’m not sure I could get anything done with that many people in the kitchen.”
“Let Zac and Tyler have the day off.”
“If I did that, they’d be wanting a day off all the time. You don’t know what it’s like having to deal with six Randolph men. You can’t give them an inch.”
Sarah didn’t know quite how to take Rose’s remarks. She doubted Rose was one to suffer mistreatment. Besides, she’d made her complaints with humor instead of rancor.
A commotion caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see a handsome but disheveled urchin burst into the kitchen. “I smell doughnuts,” he announced. His gaze swept the room looking for the source of the tantalizing aroma.
“Rose said she was never making doughnuts again after you stole so many last time.” This from a tall, skinny boy who entered on the first one’s heels.
“I smell them,” the boy said. “I know they’re here.”
“They’re in this tin,” Jared announced, much to Sarah’s surprise. “Rose said I’m to whack you with this spoon if you try to steal one.”
The boy turned his full attention on Jared. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but get ready to die.”
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