Apparently Salty could expect everything he said to be related to Sarah at the first opportunity. He could also tell from her frown she didn’t like him making promises she wasn’t certain he could keep. “My father was badly injured in an accident,” he explained. “I made several crutches for him.”
Sarah didn’t appear appeased. “Ellen, set the table.”
The girl moved quickly to help her mother.
“Is there anything I can do?” Salty asked.
“You can make sure you and Jared are washed and ready to eat in five minutes.”
“Come on,” Salty said to the boy. “You pump, and I’ll put my head under the water.”
“You’ll get all wet!”
“That’s the point.”
“Do I have to put my head under the pump?” Jared asked.
“You do if you’re dirty.”
He turned to his mother. “Am I dirty?”
He looked like he hoped she would say no, but she laughed and replied, “Any boy who has had to fight with chickens for their eggs is bound to be dirty.”
“I took care of the horses,” Ellen said. “Can I put my head under the pump?”
“You can wash up inside,” her mother said.
Salty had never thought of washing up before dinner as a game, but by the time he and Jared got through pumping water over each other, they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t understand half of what the other said.
“It sounded more like you were playing in that water than washing in it,” Sarah accused when they came back into the house.
Salty grinned at Jared, who was nearly as wet as he was. “I think we did a little of both. Dinner smells mighty good.”
“What did you do with Bones?” Sarah asked.
“I left him to watch the pigs and chickens. Don’t want anybody stealing them.”
Sarah shook her head. “There’s nobody but Mr. Wallace within miles, and I’m sure he’s got enough pigs and chickens of his own.”
“Don’t tell Bones that,” Salty joked. “He needs to feel useful.”
That made the children laugh, but Sarah was now looking at him a little strangely, like she couldn’t quite figure him out. It served her right for changing the rules of their relationship, because he couldn’t quite figure things out, either.
That blue dress wasn’t helping. It wasn’t just the color. The garment was made to fit snugly at the waist and bosom. It was wreaking havoc with his thinking processes, as well as having physical effects on the rest of him. After many years of celibacy, he hadn’t expected that. Apparently, all that had been lacking was the right woman.
He’d just married that right woman and promised not to touch her. He could foresee having to douse his head under the pump a lot more often.
The front half of the house was a single large room with space for the kitchen, a large table, and a sitting area focused around a fireplace. The kitchen area was made up of a cast iron stove, a larder built into the corner, and a work table. Long use had polished the surface of a rough-hewn supper table until it glistened in the fading sunlight coming in one of the two windows. A rough bench placed against the wall and two ladder-back chairs comprised the rest of the furniture. The walls were unadorned, and two doors led to what he assumed were two bedrooms.
As basic as this was, it was a step up from the dog trot Rose and George Randolph had occupied before the McClendons burned them out. Apparently Sarah’s ranch had been successful at one time. He hoped he could make it so again.
That’s what he should be thinking about, rather than Sarah’s slim waist, her breasts, and the smile that still puzzled him. If he interpreted it correctly, she had stopped fighting her attraction to him. That could mean one of two things: she could have decided to admit her attraction and see where it would go, or she could have decided to admit her attraction but rely on his indifference to keep it from developing into something stronger. Which left him in a quandary. If it was the first, there was no problem. He would simply let his own attraction develop. She was his wife, after all. If it was the second, he didn’t know if he could hold up his end of the bargain. When he’d made his promise, he’d been depending on her resistance to help him keep it.
“Serve Salty first,” Sarah told Ellen.
“Why?”
“Because he’s the head of the family now. It’s a sign of respect.”
Jared grinned at him before turning to his mother. “And he has to do the most work.”
Life with his new family was proving to be more complex than Salty had expected. He was no longer simply a man contracted to manage their ranch in exchange for land; he was being incorporated into their family, not merely as a member, but as the head. He didn’t know how that was going to fit with Sarah’s need to retain control of her own life as well as be involved in all decisions affecting the ranch or the children, and least of all did he understand how it was going to affect the relationship between them.
“As soon as I make that crutch, you’ll have your share of work,” Salty promised the boy. But the words were hardly out of his mouth before he remembered Sarah’s earlier reaction. The crutch had better make life better for Jared, or the recent thaw could become a chill just as quickly.
“Can I ride one of your horses?” Ellen asked. “We don’t have any that good.”
“I don’t know,” Salty said. “A man needs to rest his horses. I could use three or four riding horses instead of just two.”
Ellen nodded. “Mama said Grandpapa had more, but they ran away.”
“We’ve recaptured some of them over the years,” Sarah said, “but they keep getting out of the corral.”
Salty was reminded he had a lot of work to do before he could tackle the problem of the ranch’s cattle.
“Before we worry about extra horses, we need to plant the garden,” Sarah pointed out.
“I can sort the seeds and cut the potato eyes,” Jared volunteered.
“I hate working in the garden,” Ellen said. Salty would have guessed that.
The discussion of what to plant and when took up the rest of supper, but Salty wasn’t so preoccupied he failed to notice Sarah had made the plain meal of sausage, corn bread, and beans taste a lot better than it sounded. He got the feeling she was embarrassed to serve him such a meager meal; she hadn’t looked at him when she put the food on the table.
“I don’t have any dessert.” She flushed with embarrassment. “We ran out of sugar a while back.”
He would have to start a list of additional things to have sent out when the man brought his lumber and his mattress. He couldn’t think of a better use for the remaining money he’d gotten from selling the farm he’d come to hate.
“I found some honey,” Ellen said, “but it didn’t last long.”
“That’s okay,” Salty said. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
“I do,” the little girl replied.
“Me too,” Jared added. “I really liked the doughnuts Mrs. Randolph made.”
“Can you make doughnuts, Mama?” Ellen looked hopeful.
“I think so, but you’ll have to wait until we get flour.”
Flour, sugar, probably coffee as well. Why hadn’t he bought staples when he was in Austin? Because he thought like a man. He’d bought pigs and chickens, a second wagon, lumber, wire, and seeds. Not once had he thought about food, clothes, shoes, needles and thread, or any of the things a woman needed to take care of her family. He’d make up that list before he went to sleep tonight.
“Are you through eating?” he asked Jared.
“Why?”
“It’s time to start on that crutch I promised you.”
Sarah stood. “Ellen and I will clean up.”
Salty walked over to the piece of wood he’d set down just inside the front door. “The biggest problem is going
to be finding a way to support your leg.”
“I don’t care, as long as I can walk.”
“You’ll care after the first few hours,” Salty promised. “Lie down on the floor. It’ll be easier to measure that way.”
Jared got out of his chair, hopped to the middle of the room then dropped to the floor like a sack of coffee. “Any special way you want me to lie down?” he asked.
“No. Just get comfortable. I’ll have to keep measuring as I whittle.”
It was too dark in the house to see well. Salty guessed Sarah hadn’t lit a lantern because she didn’t have any oil or kerosene. One more thing to add to the list. “Let’s go outside.”
“It’s too cold!”
“Not yet. Besides, I don’t want to get wood chips all over the house. Ellen, when you get through helping your mother, run to the shed and fetch my bedroll.”
“What do you want it for?”
“Jared can’t lie on the ground.”
Sarah didn’t look up from her work. She told her daughter, “Go now, but don’t dawdle with the horses.”
Salty set a chair outside then helped Jared down the steps and to it. “Lean on the chair and stand up. That’ll give me enough to get started.”
Jared stood perfectly still, watching with avid interest. Salty’s father had always yelled at him, had never stood still, had complained that Salty could never make anything that would enable him to walk. How different the two were.
Salty took a knife out of his pocket, opened the blade, and sliced a splinter off the long, slender piece of oak he was using to make the crutch. By the time he’d taken the corners off the wood, Ellen was back with his bedroll. He told her to spread it out. Once that was done, he picked Jared up and laid him down upon it, explaining, “I need to fit the wood as closely as I can to your leg.”
It wasn’t a crutch he was making, exactly; he had decided on a cross between a crutch and a peg leg. Jared’s withered leg was capable of bearing a little weight, but it wasn’t as long as his good leg. If he could position a footrest properly, the boy’s weight could be shared by his leg and arm.
For the next half hour he worked on the general shape. Jared asked questions about it for the first several minutes, but after that he started asking questions about Salty’s past. Salty was relieved when Ellen came outside and started asking other questions about his carving. He didn’t want to answer questions about his past. He didn’t want to remember most of it.
He noticed Jared shiver. “It’s getting too cold to stay out any longer.”
“Can’t you finish it tonight?” Jared would have probably endured anything if Salty could have promised being able to walk on his own.
“It’s going to take a couple more days. What I did tonight was the easy part. From now on, I’ll carve a little then measure to make sure it fits. You’ll be tired of me before I’m finished.”
“I’ve been tired of not being able to walk my whole life,” Jared replied. Sometimes children had a way of putting things into perspective.
Still… “This isn’t going to make you walk like everybody else. It will be hard work.”
“I don’t care.”
“I want you to care,” Salty said. “You’ve got to promise to tell me if anything hurts. I’ll probably have to make another one—maybe two or three—before I get it right.” After years of being forced to make several kinds of walking aids that his father promptly destroyed, he’d promised himself he’d never carve again. But he couldn’t think of a better way to help Jared.
“Can you carve anything else?” Ellen asked.
“I never tried. It takes a lot of work to run a farm or work a ranch. Doesn’t leave much time for carving.”
“Could you carve a bowl?” Ellen asked. “Mama’s wood bowl cracked open last summer.”
“Salty has more than enough work to do around the ranch,” Sarah told her daughter, appearing from inside. “Don’t ask him to spend time making things I don’t need.”
“You said you needed a bowl to keep the bread warm.”
She laughed. “You and Jared eat it before it has a chance to get cold.”
Probably because bread was the major part of their meal and they were too hungry to wait, Salty guessed. He would make sure they had plenty of vegetables this summer. He also needed to make sure the chickens and pigs were safe. They would be the major source of meat in the family diet.
“It’s hard to find a piece of wood in this part of Texas that’s big enough to make a bowl,” he told Ellen.
“Could you carve a horse?” she asked.
“It’s time to go to bed,” Sarah announced. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”
“We always get up early.”
“That’s because we always have a lot of work to do.”
Jared got to his knees, and Salty helped him up. “Can I use the crutch?” the boy asked.
“It’s not ready yet. There’s nothing to rest your foot on.”
“I can lean on it.”
“I haven’t built a cradle for your underarm. It’ll hurt.”
“It won’t hurt long,” Jared said. “I only have to go to the bedroom.”
Salty wasn’t sure he could walk with the crutch, but the boy settled it in his armpit and took a tentative step. Salty reached out to help him regain his balance, but Jared motioned him away. He kept stumbling, but he covered the short distance to the steps. Salty waited to see if he could pull himself up with the help of the rough rail. He was relieved when the boy managed to get inside on his own.
“If I had known he’d insist on using it tonight, I’d have started sooner,” Salty told Sarah.
“It’s the first chance he’s had to walk on his own,” she replied. “No one but you has been able to figure out a way to support his short leg.”
“I’ll work on it some more tonight.”
“You’ve done enough for us today. There’s still a lot that needs to be done tomorrow.”
More than she realized, he’d bet. He reached down for his bedroll and was in the process of folding it when he heard Bones break into a series of barks followed by a savage growl. The noise could only mean one thing, so he dropped the bedroll and started for the shed at a run.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah called after him.
“I think Bones has cornered a thief.”
Thirteen
Salty wasn’t used to running a hundred feet in boots, much less a hundred yards, but he knew Bones wouldn’t be barking without a good reason. He would have preferred to have a gun in his hand, but he’d left his in the shed.
He passed through the grove of trees surrounding the house and turned toward the shed. It was a dark night, the sliver of moon obscured by clouds, but he could make out a man struggling with the dog. The man struck at Bones. Whatever he held, it broke the dog’s grip and the man started running away. Salty was torn between looking to see if Bones was all right and catching the intruder, but the decision was soon made for him. The man’s horse was only a short distance away, and he leapt into the saddle and was gone before Salty could get close enough to identify him.
He was very sure he’d seen that horse before, however. Unless he was mistaken, it belonged to Arnie.
Salty turned back to Bones, who was inside the pen he had built for the pigs.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked before the reason was made clear. One of the new pigs lay in a pool of blood, its throat cut. The other was huddled in a corner. “Son of a bitch! Why did he want to kill the pigs?” A whine reminded him that Arnie had attacked Bones. Blood ran from a cut in the dog’s side.
“What happened?” Breathless from her run, Sarah’s words were barely understandable.
Salty knelt down next to Bones. “Arnie killed one of our pigs. He stabbed Bones, too, when the poor old dog stopped him from killing the o
ther one.”
“Why would he do something like that?”
“I’m not sure,” Salty said, “but I have an idea.”
It was too dark to see the extent of the dog’s wound. He’d have to move Bones to the house to take care of him. He put his arms under the beast and lifted him gently. Bones whined, but he didn’t try to get down. “I’m going to need a lantern.”
Ellen came catapulting out of the shadows. “What happened?”
Sarah corralled her daughter. “Arnie killed one of the pigs and stabbed Bones.”
Ellen looked stricken. “Is Bones hurt bad?”
“We won’t know until Salty can get him to the house.”
“I’ll have the lantern ready.” She disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.
Sarah sighed, watching her go. “My daughter never does anything slowly.”
Salty laughed. “She’s seven. ‘Slowly’ is a dirty word.”
His aching feet made the walk to the house seem longer. Ellen met them at the door with a lantern. Jared stood just inside, using his crutch for support.
“Why did Arnie hurt Bones?” the boy asked.
“Bones attacked him. He stabbed Bones so he could get away.”
“I wish Bones had ripped out his throat.” It was easy for children to be vengeful, because they’d never seen what one human was capable of doing to another.
Salty laid Bones down near the stove, which was still warm. “Hand me the lantern,” he said to Ellen.
Bones was lucky. It appeared the knife had found a rib rather than the soft tissue in between. The gash was about three inches long, but it wasn’t deep.
“Is he going to die?” Ellen asked.
Salty shook his head. “It’s not a deep cut. If we can keep it clean, he ought to be right as rain in a few days.”
“I’ll find something to make a pad to cover his wound,” Sarah said.
“Jared, can you hold the light? I need Ellen to bring me a basin of water.”
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