“Hold the lantern still,” Sarah told Jared.
Salty knew having a needle stuck into his foot was going to hurt. He just didn’t know how much. He jerked his foot back before he could stop himself.
“It’s in deep,” Sarah told him.
“Sorry. I know.”
He wasn’t going to flinch. In the war he’d watched too many boys have mangled arms and legs cut off without benefit of anything more than whiskey to dull the pain. Besides, Jared’s gaze was glued to him. That boy had to live with a withered leg every day of his life and did so with calm acceptance and good cheer. Salty wasn’t going to be humiliated by one stinking little thorn.
But it wasn’t easy to appear stoic when Sarah was digging a hole the size of a hen’s egg in the tender flesh of his foot. She might as well have been using a butcher knife.
Ellen was watching her mother intently. “I’ve had lots of thorns way bigger than that.”
Sarah didn’t stop digging. “I’m sure it was a lot bigger before it broke off.”
A particularly painful probe of the needle nearly destroyed Salty’s resolve. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and held it until the wave of pain receded. Then Sarah held up the needle. “I got it.”
Ellen peered at the thorn. “It’s tiny.”
“It was deep in his foot. Digging it out had to be very painful.”
“He didn’t cry,” Jared said.
“Men don’t,” Sarah said.
Salty remembered men who were in so much pain they couldn’t cry; all they could do was scream. “Yes, they do. One more jab of that needle, and I’d have been blubbering like a baby.”
The children laughed, and Sarah favored him with a look so warm it threatened to heat up the night. Now he was sure her feelings for him were more than mere physical attraction. And if that look measured the intensity of her feelings, she liked him a lot.
Despite the throbbing in his foot, he felt his body begin to react to his desire for her. He fought against it. He suspected Sarah thought men only cared for women because of their physical needs, and he didn’t want her to think that of him. He needed to redirect everyone’s attention. “We should decide what to do about Arnie,” he announced. He talked so the man couldn’t hear.
“Let’s shoot him,” said Ellen.
Sarah laughed, surprised. “I thought you liked him.”
“He was trying to hurt our horses.” In the little girl’s world, horses were more important than people.
She turned to Salty. “What do you suggest?”
“We have to round up and brand a lot of cows in the next several days, and we don’t have anybody to help us. He can help us for the next week and prove he’s changed his ways. If he doesn’t agree, or runs away before we finish, we should turn him in to the sheriff.”
“How will you catch him if he runs away?” Ellen asked.
Salty eyed Bones. “I have a feeling he wouldn’t get very far. What do you think?” he asked Sarah.
She leveled a harsh gaze at her would-be suitor. “Why did you stab Bones?”
“I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to keep him from biting me.”
“How about killing our pig and trying to lame my horses?”
Arnie hung his head. “I was hoping if you thought this man couldn’t protect you, you’d take me back.”
“You’ve done a terrible thing, Arnie, but we’re shorthanded. I’ll accept Salty’s suggestion if you agree to it, but you have to understand that he is my husband and my children’s stepfather now.”
“What if he shoots Salty?” Jared asked, suddenly horrified.
“I’d shoot him,” Ellen declared.
“He’s not going to shoot Salty,” Sarah said.
Jared wasn’t convinced. “But what if he did?”
“Then I’d let Ellen shoot him and we’d leave his carcass for the coyotes.”
The children laughed, but Salty thought he detected an edge of steel in Sarah’s voice. While he doubted that’s what Sarah would really do, it pleased him to know that’s what she’d want to do. Once they got the branding done, he’d have to explore the change in her feelings toward him more fully. In the meantime, he’d better make sure he knew what his feelings were.
He turned his attention back to Arnie. “It looks like you have a choice: work with us or go to jail. What will it be?”
It was impossible to know what was going on in Arnie’s mind. Any man who thought he could win a woman’s affection by running down her ability to survive and attacking her livestock suffered from thinking that was plain twisted. Salty wasn’t sure working with Arnie was a good idea. He wouldn’t have suggested it if they weren’t in such desperate need of help.
“I’ll help with the branding,” Arnie said. “At least I’ll get something to eat, right?”
Salty hadn’t thought of how difficult it might be for a man like Arnie to find work. “I can’t turn a fellow soldier out, but you’ll have to sleep outdoors. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you in the shed next to me.”
Arnie’s gaze narrowed. “If you’re married, why aren’t you sleeping with Sarah?”
It was impossible to offer the real explanation. “Bones and I are sleeping out to watch for thieves.”
Arnie looked like he wanted to ask more questions. Instead he asked, “What if it rains?”
“You can sleep in the wagon,” Sarah suggested.
“I’ll lend you my bedroll to keep dry,” Salty offered.
“He’ll run away,” Jared said.
“No, I won’t. If I go to jail, I’ll never get a decent job.” Arnie looked at the ground. “Or find a woman who’ll marry me.”
That would probably be a good thing, Salty thought. Texas didn’t need children cursed with Arnie’s thinking processes.
He declared, “It’s time for everyone to get back to bed.”
“I need to bandage your foot,” Sarah said.
“It’s not necessary. I’ll be sure to keep my boots on.”
Sarah didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue; she took the children and headed toward the house. Arnie watched them just as intently until they disappeared through the trees. “You’ll be a lot happier if you can put those thoughts out of your mind,” Salty told him.
Arnie took a deep, slow breath then exhaled so completely he seemed to shrink in size. “I guess I was stupid to think it ever would work.”
Salty couldn’t disagree, but he felt sorry for the man. He knew what it was like to fear no woman would ever love him.
“What about your dog?” Arnie asked. Bones had stopped trying to get to him after Sarah tied him to the fence, but he hadn’t stopped watching.
“I’ll keep Bones in the shed with me.”
“Put him inside before you untie me. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
“Right now he’s just watching you. Don’t give him reason to change his mind. I’ll give you a couple of blankets for the wagon. Get some sleep. We all should.”
But after Salty had gotten Arnie settled and crawled back into his own bed, Bones lying near the door, he was wide awake. Was he stupid to keep Arnie around, even though they desperately needed the help? The man suffered from seriously dysfunctional thinking. Wouldn’t it be safer for everyone if he was in jail?
He turned onto his other side. It wasn’t more comfortable, but he liked his thoughts a lot better. Sarah had called him the children’s stepfather. That was the first time she’d included the children in their relationship. Rather than being her partner in a business arrangement, it sounded like she was indeed thinking of him as part of the family. He was very fond of both children. Their lives so far had been shaped by circumstances beyond their control. He wanted them to have a chance to discover what they wanted for themselves, not just what was necessary for survival.
He also wanted her. He wasn’t sure whether it was love or infatuation, but he did know it wasn’t mere lust. He’d had enough experience with that to know. What he didn’t know was love. His mother had claimed she loved his father, but she’d lived in fear of his rages. His father had said he loved Salty’s mother, but he’d treated her like a servant. He’d told the world he loved his son, but Salty had never felt loved. Seeing Rose and George had restored Salty’s belief in the possibility of real love, but he wasn’t a war hero like George. He was just a lowly foot soldier who wasn’t sure he was worthy of that kind of love.
But he wanted that kind of love. He wanted it enough to risk failure.
* * *
“Iron,” Salty shouted.
They had been at this for a week. They rose every morning before dawn, ate the first of only two meals they would have that day, then headed out to round up the animals to be branded. Jared would have the fire going and the branding irons hot by the time they returned. Salty had been required to show Jared only once how to tell when a branding iron was too hot or not hot enough. The boy was as smart as he was sweet-tempered.
The boy chose an iron from the fire he was tending and brought it to where Salty stood next to the chute. Inside, a four-year-old steer fought against the boards that held him prisoner.
“Pin him,” Salty shouted.
Arnie shoved the steer against the side of the chute, held him steady for the time it took Salty to work the brand without smearing it. The smell of singed hair and scorched hide assaulted Salty’s nostrils, but he had grown so used to the stench over the last week he hardly noticed it any longer. Satisfied the brand was clear and lasting, Salty stood back and said, “Let him go.”
Arnie pulled away from the steer and, while the animal was regaining his balance, removed the bars that had locked it in the chute. Salty gave a shout and slapped the steer on the rump. The angry creature shot from the chute at a run. Giving a bellow of rage, it headed for the open range.
Returning the branding iron to Jared, Salty mounted his horse to cut another animal from the herd Sarah and Ellen were holding. This time he chose a cow with a calf at her side. This would give him a chance to do two at once. The cow would be caught in the chute; he would lasso the calf and Arnie would wrestle it to the ground.
Salty doubted he would ever learn to like the man, but Arnie was as good as his word. He wasn’t a skilled cowhand, but he did whatever Salty told him to do as quickly and as well as he could. With more experience he’d probably turn into a good hand. Salty was already trying to decide whether to keep him on to deliver the steers they were going to send north with the Randolphs.
“When can I brand a steer?”
Ellen had been hankering to wield the branding iron, and Salty had tried to explain that it wasn’t easy to make a clear, readable brand. You had to have the iron at the right temperature, you had to know how to make the design, and you had to know how hard and how long to press to get a mark that would be clear but not burn through the skin. Unfortunately, it looked easy.
“Stop plaguing Salty,” Sarah scolded. “We need you where you are.”
After the excitement of the roundup, keeping cows in a herd wasn’t enough action for Ellen. “You don’t need me. You’ve got Bones.”
The dog had been worth his weight in gold when it came to flushing cows from the brush and tangles of thorny vines, and he was proving almost as valuable as a herd dog. Let a single steer break away, and Bones was after him in a flash.
“You need a crew of at least ten for branding,” Salty told Ellen. “We have half that. I thought you wanted to spend your whole day on horseback.”
She did, but she also wanted to be in the middle of the excitement, and to her that meant branding, not sitting a horse waiting for something to happen.
They had only ten more to brand today. Salty was wondering if he’d done enough for the time being. His lumber had arrived. He was anxious to start building an extra room onto Sarah’s house. It was well past the time Ellen should be sharing a room with her brother.
He had branded the cow and wrestled her calf to the ground when Jared said, “Someone’s coming.”
Salty glanced up to see several riders approaching. Henry Wallace was in the lead, and he was coming at a fast canter.
“Hand me an iron,” Salty said to Jared. He didn’t want to face Wallace while he was holding the calf, and he intended to brand the animal while it was down.
Jared handed him an iron. Salty had it poised over the calf’s flank when Wallace shouted, “Stop. That’s my calf!” With that, he pulled a rifle and aimed it at Salty.
Eighteen
Over the last several days, the ground had been cut up by hundreds of hooves and every blade of grass in a circle of a hundred feet ground to fragments. Generous sunshine and a lack of rain had produced a fine dust which coated the inside of Sarah’s nose and penetrated the fabric of her clothes all the way to her skin. Much to Ellen’s amusement, the dust had combined with sweat to turn Salty’s face slate gray. Jared said he looked like he’d been dead for a month.
“You and Bones hold the herd until I get back,” Sarah told her daughter. “Don’t worry if a few get away. We’ll catch them again.” She could understand Wallace wanting to own her land, but she couldn’t understand him making such a serious accusation when there was no way he could prove it.
She hated to leave Ellen, but she couldn’t allow Salty to face Wallace alone. Not after all the work the man had done in the last week. She didn’t know how he managed to get out of bed each morning, or how he seemed to have more energy than any of them at the end of the day. She rode to where Salty still held the branding iron suspended over the calf and positioned herself between him and Wallace.
“Put that rifle away,” Sarah ordered Wallace. “I won’t have you threatening anyone on my property.”
“That’s my calf,” Wallace shouted.
“Its mother is over there, and she’s wearing my brand.”
“It’s a fresh brand.”
“So was the brand I saw your hands putting on a cow last week.”
“It was on my land.”
“And this cow is on my land. The brand is the only one the cow has ever had. Check it out,” she said to the man who she’d seen branding Wallace’s cow.
Wallace pointed to the man, “Gary, check it out,” before pointing an accusing finger at Salty. “He ran that cow off my land.”
“Nonsense. How do I know the cow Gary was branding wasn’t one of mine that had wandered onto your land?”
“It’s like she says, boss,” Gary said to Wallace upon inspecting the cow. “That cow’s never worn another brand.”
“Everybody knows you have to brand a calf with the brand its mother wears.” Salty hadn’t lowered the branding iron, and he didn’t release the calf. Now, without waiting for Wallace’s response, he slapped the iron on the calf’s flank. The calf bleated, and the nauseating smell of burned hair and hide assailed Sarah’s nostrils. Sarah was sure she’d never again encounter that smell without feeling queasy at the memory of branding and castrating so many animals in such a short period of time. She was beginning to question whether she was cut out to be a rancher. Even a rancher’s wife.
Salty stood and released the calf, which went bawling to its mother which was still imprisoned in the chute. After Salty handed the branding iron to Jared, he turned to face Wallace. “Every rancher has the right to brand any unbranded cows, steers, or bulls on his land. That’s the law, and you can
’t change it.” He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed Ellen, Arnie, and Sarah. “We’ve spent the last week gathering maverick stock from the outlying parts of our ranch so we can avoid confrontations just like this.”
“What if my cows wander onto your land?” Wallace asked.
Salty turned to Gary. “Haven’t you been given orders to brand any maverick stock on your boss’s range?” Gary glanced uneasily at his boss. “You don’t have to hesitate,” Salty said. “I know you have. Every rancher has been doing the same since the end of the war.”
Wallace turned to Sarah. “If you’d married me, this would never have happened.”
She couldn’t tell Wallace the real reason she’d married Salty because she didn’t want to say anything that would be disrespectful to Salty or hurt his feelings. In the short time she’d known him, she’d come to believe there were men in the world who understood kindness and gentleness, who didn’t hesitate to show they cared for others, and who delivered more than they promised. Men women could depend on, could actually learn to care for, without having their emotions used against them. He deserved her support no matter what words were necessary to provide it.
“I don’t love you. I do love him.”
Those weren’t the words she’d wanted to say, but she figured it was the only thing she could say that would come close to making any sense to Wallace. Not that she expected him to understand that, either. Men like him didn’t know how to love. All they understood was ownership and control. If they cared about anyone beyond themselves, it was other men they wanted to impress with their power or wealth, on occasion with the youth and beauty of their wives, or the number of their sons.
“But he’s just a cowhand.”
Wallace apparently considered Salty to be on the same level as one of his cowhands. It would never occur to him that a man he paid to work for him could have the same intrinsic value as he had.
“He’s not just a cowhand.” Jared looked indignant enough for both of them. “He’s my stepfather, and I love him, too. He made this crutch for me and taught me how to heat branding irons.”
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