Sarah turned to her daughter. “I’ll get the water. You bring the blue jar I keep in the back of the cupboard. I have a tea made of sage that will help stop infection,” she told Salty. As soon as she returned from the well, she took the jar Ellen handed her and poured a generous amount into the basin.
When Salty tried to clean the wound, Bones whined and struggled to get up. “It’s got to be cleaned to keep it from getting infected,” he told Ellen when she asked why he was hurting the dog.
“Let me try.” Sarah produced a length of fabric she had folded into a pad large enough to cover the wound.
Salty nodded and took the lantern from Jared. “Let me know where you want it.”
“Hold it higher and a little forward.”
Sarah took the cloth Salty had been using, dipped it into the basin and carefully pressed it against the dog’s raw flesh. Bones whined softly but didn’t move. With slow and careful movements, she continued to dip the cloth into the basin and press it against the wound until all the blood was gone. Once that was done, she squeezed some of the liquid directly onto the exposed flesh to flush out the remaining debris.
“Hand me that fabric pad,” she said to Ellen. When her daughter complied, she soaked the pad in the solution, wrung out most of the liquid then placed it over the wound. “Now we need to find a way to keep this in place for a couple of days.”
Salty was startled out of his reverie. Watching Sarah bent over the dog, deftly cleaning the wound with a minimum of pain, was like watching an angel bring about a miracle of healing. Sarah was a strong, independent woman who was capable of the gentleness and tenderness that men looked for in women. The sensitivity that soothed and healed without the need for words. He had just seen what he’d wanted without knowing exactly what it was, the answer to a question he’d been unable to put into words.
“I could fashion a bandage if I had enough cloth to circle his chest,” he said to Sarah.
“I’ll get some.” Ellen was off like a shot.
“Do you think Arnie will come back?” Jared asked.
“I don’t know,” Salty replied. “I didn’t expect him the first time.”
“I never liked him,” the boy repeated.
Salty turned to Sarah. “Maybe he thinks that, if I fail, you’ll be forced to turn to him.”
“Why would he think that after what he tried to do tonight?”
“You never know what a man who thinks he’s in love will do.”
Ellen returned with strips of bandage trailing after her. “Can I do it?” she begged.
“I think we ought to let Salty,” Sarah replied. “If you watch closely, maybe he’ll let you try the next time.”
When the bandage was attached, Bones wasn’t happy about having it around his chest. He tried to pull it off with his teeth. When Salty gave him an admonishing tap on the muzzle, he tried to kick the cloth off with his hind foot. “We’ll have to watch him,” Salty said.
“I’ll do it,” Jared offered.
“I’d better take him to the shed with me,” Salty decided. “I can make sure he doesn’t get out of it.”
“Are you going to stay up all night?” Ellen asked.
“No.” He couldn’t do that and work all the next day, too.
“Then how will you know if Arnie comes back?”
“Bones will know.” He hoped Bones would wake him. Arnie wouldn’t come back unless he was planning to do some serious damage.
“What about the pig?” Sarah asked. “It can’t be left lying in the pen overnight. We have to process the meat now.”
Salty practically sagged against the doorway. He’d helped with hog-killings growing up. It was a long process that began at dawn and frequently lasted until midnight, and he was already exhausted. “We’ll be up all night.”
“The children and I will take care of it.”
What kind of husband would he be if he went to sleep and left his new family to work through the night? Surely Sarah didn’t think he would do that, even if he was her husband in name only. “While I take Bones to the shed, find me a big pot to boil water.”
He trudged to the shed with heavy feet, thinking of the work ahead. How many times had he built a fire in a pit under a tub used to scald a full-grown hog? How many hogs had he scraped free of hair, struggled to hang so the corpse could be eviscerated and the processing of the meat begun? More than he cared to remember, especially because his father always sat close by, shouting that he was a fool, an idiot, that he was doing everything wrong. Knowing his father’s anger sprang from helplessness had done little to ease the pain or calm Salty’s anger—or expunge his guilt for feeling relief when his father died.
Ellen followed him. “Mama said I was to show you the pit we use to build the fire.”
“How about the tub?”
“We don’t have one. We just keep pouring water on the hog until it loosens the hair.”
“I guess the wash pot will have to do.”
Salty had filled it with water and started the fire before Sarah left the house with a handful of knives. Ellen trotted behind her with various pots and bowls. Jared was seated at the kitchen table they’d set up nearby. He’d been given the job of organizing the spices and the cans that would hold the lard which would cover and preserve the meat. Later he could help with grinding meat and stuffing sausages.
“Let’s hope the clouds clear,” Sarah said. “I don’t have enough fuel to keep this lantern burning all night.”
It wasn’t easy when only half of the pig would fit into the wash pot at a time, but Salty finally got the thing scalded, scraped clean, and hung up. He was relieved when the clouds passed and the yard was illuminated by pale moonlight. But once he removed the pig’s insides and got everything washed and cleaned, the real work of the night began.
He’d never liked hog killings because they required lots of people to work together. He’d always preferred to work alone. Yet, if he wanted to succeed with this ranch, he’d have to integrate himself into this family in a way that he’d never been part of in his own. Tonight was a good place to begin.
“What can I do?” he asked Sarah. By the time she got through telling him, he wished he hadn’t asked. In Salty’s father’s world, once a man had cut up the carcass and taken the meat to the smokehouse or covered it with salt and seasonings, his work was done. The cleaning, cooking, rendering, grinding, and stuffing was women’s work. The men sat around talking and eating cracklings.
He had to take the carcass apart. Some pieces would be cured in the smokehouse, some ground up, and some preserved in salt or lard. He helped Jared wash intestines to be used as casings for sausages. He boiled chunks of fat to render the lard. Through the long hours of the night, the four worked together, sometimes stopping to help each other before going back to their own individual tasks. They talked and joked. The children had never participated so fully in a hog killing, so they had lots of questions, most of which Sarah had to answer.
Sometime before dawn, Sarah got up from the table where she’d been working and said, “I’m going to fix breakfast. Do you think you can handle things for a while?”
Salty shrugged. “There’s nothing left to do but fill the sausage casings.”
Sarah put her hand to her back to stretch muscles that must have been tight and aching from bending over the table for hours. “My father never made sausages. He wouldn’t have. I didn’t know if you would.”
“My father wouldn’t have, either,” Salty admitted. “But I disagreed with him about a lot of things.”
Sarah’s tired smile was more than enough to warm his heart. Her attitude toward him had unquestionably softened, but it was a long way from anything resembling love. Not that he wanted love. His mother had loved his father, who had made her life a misery. Liking each other well enough to be friends was the best way for a husband and wife to feel about
each other, and that was what Sarah wanted in the first place. It would avoid the bitter pain of jealousy, the fear of believing the person you loved didn’t love you, the torment of discovering you were interchangeable with other persons of your gender. George and Rose Randolph had found mutual love, but they were one in a million.
There was no denying the attraction between him and Sarah. He expected it to grow stronger. It was impossible to be around a woman like Sarah and not be attracted. But as long as he didn’t confuse attraction with love—
“Are you going to help us?”
Ellen’s question pulled him out of his abstraction. “Sure.”
“Then why are you just sitting there staring at the house?”
He was staring at the doorway through which Sarah had disappeared. Was he hoping she would reappear, or was he merely remembering the way she looked as she walked toward the house? Either way, he had to stop thinking about Sarah and concentrate on work. “How are we going to organize this?” he asked.
“If you’ll hold the casings, Jared and I can stuff them.”
Salty looked at the two children, both calmly waiting for him to take the job they’d assigned him. He wondered if he’d ever been that assured as a child. His father had been prosperous, an important man in the community, yet Salty had felt worthless. These children were as close to being penniless as possible without starving. They should still be playing with dolls and pretend rifles instead of worrying about their next meal. And yet, because poverty had denied them the advantages he’d enjoyed, they had the experience of knowing what they did was important, that their contributions would always be valued, that their abilities were respected.
“Mama says I stuff sausages better than Ellen.” Jared held up his hands. “My hands are smaller.”
Salty’s father would have ridiculed him if he’d been physically smaller in any way to a female. Here, Jared was able to take pride in it. Apparently there were advantages in growing up without a father and away from towns full of people who could only see the disadvantages of being different.
“Then I’ll hold, Ellen will hand, and you can stuff.”
Something about what he said, or the way he said it, caused the children to start giggling. In no time at all, all three of them were laughing.
“Are you going to get back to work, or do I have to find myself a switch?” Salty looked up to see Sarah standing in the doorway, hands on hips. But she was smiling.
Jared pointed to Salty. “It’s his fault.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to switch Salty. Do you think I can find one big enough?”
That sent the children into fresh gales of laughter.
Salty poked them both in the sides. “Stop laughing, brats. Do you want to see me get switched?”
They managed a strangled yes then laughed even harder.
“It’s their fault,” he told Sarah. “I think I should switch them.”
More hilarity, and Ellen hid behind Jared.
“No one gets any breakfast until the sausage is finished.” With that announcement, Sarah walked back inside.
The children’s laughter gradually died down. Ellen said, “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Jared said.
“Then we’d better get to work,” Salty advised. “I’m hungry, too.”
Once they all settled down to their tasks, work went quickly. Soon the only question was whether to seal sausages in lard or put them in the smokehouse.
“I want some of this for breakfast.” Ellen picked up a sausage made with seasoned meat and cornmeal and headed for the house.
“That’s her favorite,” Jared told him.
“What’s yours?”
“Anything except liver,” the boy said.
Salty chuckled. “I promise to eat the liver. Now, grab a sausage and let’s head for the smokehouse.”
He waited to see how Jared would do with the unfinished crutch, but the boy had already learned to use it. It must hurt having the end jammed into his armpit, but Jared didn’t complain or hesitate. Salty decided he’d have to make the armrest as soon as he got enough sleep to not be a danger to himself handling a knife.
“Let me give you a hand,” he said to Jared after they’d put everything in the smokehouse and started back. “You’ve got to have bruises in your armpit.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” the boy said.
Salty gave him a knowing smile. “I made enough crutches for my father to know it does. I know you’re anxious to be on your own, but it won’t kill you to lean on me one more time.” He held out his hand. “I’ll finish your crutch tonight. Now let’s get some breakfast. I think I have just enough energy to eat before I fall asleep.”
Jared hesitated before giving up his crutch. “I’m not tired.”
“You will be as soon as the excitement wears off.”
“What’s to get excited about making sausage?”
“It’s not about making sausage as much as it is that things are different. Me being here, Arnie killing the pig, staying up all night. Even worrying about Bones.”
“Are you sure he’s going to be all right?” Salty’s words had reminded the child of the dog.
“I expect he’s already at the house wanting his breakfast.”
“Will he still be able to hunt?”
Salty took Jared’s arm and they started toward the house. “Don’t worry about Bones. He’ll be nosing around for rabbits long before it’s time to take off the bandage.”
Jared shook his head. “I don’t understand why Arnie would kill our pig. I didn’t like him very much, but he was always nice to us.”
Salty wasn’t sure how much to explain. “It’s difficult to imagine why people do some things until you know more about them,” he finally said. “Sometimes it’s impossible even then.”
Jared was limping worse than usual. The child had to be exhausted, staying up all night and learning to walk with a crutch that practically punched a hole in his armpit. He probably needed sleep more than he needed food, but breakfast was going to come first.
Both Salty and Jared washed up at the pump before heading into the house. Salty needed coffee and lots of it. He smelled it while he was still twenty yards away. It gave him a burst of energy, a lift in his gait.
“You hungry?” Jared asked.
“Yeah. Aren’t you?”
“Sorta.”
The child worked so hard and was so responsible, it was hard to remember he was only seven. “Your appetite will perk up once you get to the table. Your mom’s a great cook,” Salty said.
“I guess so.”
Until the trip to the Circle Seven, the boy probably hadn’t eaten anything that hadn’t been cooked by his mother. Salty was quick to assure him, “Take it from me, she’s a great cook. Better than my mom.”
When they reached the back door, Bones was there finishing the last of what looked like corn bread and milk. “I told you he’d be right as rain before you know it,” Salty said. “Isn’t that true, old boy?”
Bones didn’t respond until he’d lapped up the last of the milk. Licking his chops, he turned to Salty and whined softly, his tail wagging.
“That’s right, stick to what’s important. You can thank me for patching you up when you have nothing better to do.”
Jared giggled.
“Go look for rabbits, but don’t go too far. We only have one pig left.”
The old dog headed off toward some brush. As they watched, Jared’s grip on Salty’s arm tightened. “Do you think Arnie will come back?”
“I doubt it,” Salty said, hoping it was true. “Bones took a bite out of him.”
The smells from the house caused Salty’s stomach to growl. He gripped Jared under the arms and lifted him up the steps. Bowls of scrambled eggs, hominy, and a plate with new sausage were already
on the table.
Ellen pointed to glasses of milk with obvious pride. “I milked the cow you bought. Mama said we can have butter for our corn bread tomorrow if she gives enough cream.”
Salty had forgotten all about the cow. He’d have to remember to let the chickens out after he ate, too. He’d do a better job in the future.
Sarah came to the table with a three-legged griddle from which she put corn bread on each plate. “Sit down and eat while everything’s hot. Once we get everything cleaned up, we’re all going to take a long nap.”
“What about building a pen for the chickens?” Ellen asked.
“What about my crutch?”
“Both can wait until the evening. Right now we need to rest.” She returned the griddle to the stove, picked up a cup which she filled with coffee, and handed it to Salty. “Let me know if it’s strong enough.”
The coffee was hot and so strong it came at him like an angry range bull, which was exactly the way he liked it. With a sigh of satisfaction, he settled into his chair at the table. “Might as well hand me the pot. I intend to drink all of it.”
“Can I have some coffee?” Ellen asked.
“In about ten years,” her mother replied. “Now drink your milk and eat your breakfast. We’re all tired and in need of sleep.”
They didn’t talk much while they ate. No one but his father talked during meals when Salty was growing up, but he’d gotten so used to the Randolphs all talking at once that the silence struck him as unnatural.
The children’s energy picked up as they ate. Jared still looked tired when it was time to clean up and put everything away, but Ellen was nearly her old self. Salty wondered what kind of man it would take to win her heart and match her in strength and energy. He doubted such a man had been made.
“Did you stake the cow out?” Salty asked.
“No,” Ellen said. “Mama said she’d do that later.”
Salty shook his head, glancing at Sarah. “I’ll take care of it. I need to look around for a good spot for the chicken pen. I want to get that done today.”
“You can let the chickens run loose,” Ellen argued. “They’ll roost in the trees.”
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