No One But You

by Leigh Greenwood

  Using his bare hands to pry the vines apart, despite the thorns that tore at his flesh and snatched his hat from his head, he fought his way through the resistant web. His feet got tangled and he fell to his knees. He nearly screamed at the pain of something that felt like a dagger being driven into his thigh, but he continued to push toward the fresh air he could smell despite the heat and the smoke. The pop and hiss of green leaves and vines over his head exploding from the heat drove him to one last superhuman effort. Gulping in a lungful of life-giving air, he dove out of the thicket and rolled.

  When he came upright several feet away, he found himself face-to-face with Wallace.

  Twenty-six

  He managed to avoid the rancher’s first attack by rolling, but his body felt like a pincushion and he was weak and disoriented from having inhaled so much smoke. He couldn’t have avoided Wallace a second time, but Ellen threw herself in the way. When the rancher tried to shove her aside, she bit him. Howling in pain and fury, he would have backhanded the child, but Salty managed to grab one of his ankles and throw him off balance. Unfortunately, Wallace aimed a kick at Salty’s head that was a glancing blow but enough to knock him onto his back.

  Ellen attacked again. Wallace retaliated, and it was clear from the way he was hitting the child that he meant to put her out of the way. Salty fought to clear his head and regain some control over his body. Despite the burning pain from what felt like hundreds of needles buried in his flesh, he had to stop Wallace from hurting her. He climbed to his knees and managed to throw himself at the back of the rancher’s legs. The man went down with a crash, momentarily stunned.

  Salty crawled to where Ellen lay sprawled on the ground. She looked lifeless. “Ellen, wake up. Are you hurt?”

  The little girl opened her eyes. “I’m going to kill that bastard!”

  Despite the pain that racked his body from one end to the other, Salty grinned. “That’s my girl. You practically saved my life. Just don’t let your mother hear that word. She’ll swear you got it from me.”

  “Turn around real quick,” she whispered.

  Grimacing from pain, Salty turned to see Wallace pulling himself into a sitting position. If Salty didn’t get to his feet now, he’d lose all advantage. Something inside of him snapped. Roger was myopic, Arnie delusional, but Wallace was just plain evil. There were times when a man simply had to ignore the consequences and fight. Remembering what some of his fellow soldiers had suffered during the war, he ignored the pain in his thigh. Still, it took every bit of mental toughness he could summon to stand up.

  He gritted his teeth and staggered over to where Wallace was attempting to get to his feet. Summoning all his energy, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. The blow sent Wallace sprawling; it left Salty panting for breath.

  “That’s for shooting Sarah, you son of a bitch. Now get up. I intend to give you another for hurting Ellen. If you’re still able to stand after that, I’ll give you one more for this damned pain in my thigh.”

  Wallace didn’t move.

  “Wake up, you yellow-bellied coward. I’m not through with you.”

  Wallace still didn’t move.

  Ellen appeared, peering down at him. “I hope he’s dead.”

  “He’s just out cold.” Salty was rather proud that, in his weakened condition, he’d been able to hit Wallace so hard. He just wished his fist didn’t hurt nearly as much as his thigh.

  “What do we do now?” Ellen asked.

  Salty started to say they needed to watch the fire to make sure it didn’t leap to the next thicket, but the ground out here was wet from recent rain and the next nearest copse was a good distance off, a clump of trees about a hundred yards away. “We need to find my horse,” he said. “It’s a long walk home, and I don’t think I’ll make it with this thorn in my thigh.”

  “We can use Mr. Wallace’s horse,” Ellen said.

  “We could if we could find it.”

  “We can.” She pointed to the nearest copse. “He hid it over there.”

  Having used up the nearby dry fuel, the fire was beginning to die down. Salty ran over to the copse and found Wallace’s horse. On it was a length of rope. He made a split-second decision to tie Wallace up and tell the deputy where to find him; that seemed easier than figuring out how to get him and Ellen back to the ranch.

  “Let’s go,” he said to Ellen. “I’m worried about your mother.”

  * * *

  Recounting to Sarah the way her daughter had fought against her kidnapper helped distract Salty’s mind until the doctor finished bandaging her wound and told them she was in no danger. Ellen’s description of how she caused the horse to leave a trail Salty could follow entertained them all when the doctor switched patients.

  He spent longer with Salty than he did with Sarah. “I’ve never seen anybody with so many embedded thorns!”

  “It’s becoming an occupational hazard,” Salty joked. “You should have seen my foot several days ago.” He was trying to make light of the situation, but he hurt worse now than before the doctor removed the thorns. He did all right until the one in his thigh. Then it was all he could do to keep from embarrassing himself in front of the children. Not even Ellen’s description of how she’d intentionally started the fire had been able to keep Salty’s mind off the pain.

  “Both of you should stay in bed for at least the next day,” the doctor told them. “It’s important for Mrs. Wheeler to stay off her feet until that wound has time to heal. She’s fortunate it’s only a shallow flesh wound.”

  “How can I do that when I have six people to feed?” Sarah asked.

  “I can cook some,” Arnie volunteered.

  “Me too,” Dobie added.

  “If it comes to that, I can cook,” Salty said, “but I doubt anybody will want to eat it.”

  “I’ll figure out something,” Sarah said, giving him a fond smile. “I want you to get better, not worse.”

  “I’ll send Mr. Wallace’s cook over,” the deputy said. “I imagine he’ll be looking for new work soon.”

  The deputy had been present when Salty returned with Ellen. He’d collected Wallace and taken him back to his ranch, ordering the men there to watch him until he could be transported back to Austin. He’d warned them all of the penalty for helping a wanted man escape. None had seemed likely to risk that, not even Tully.

  “Someone’s coming,” Jared announced. “I hear a wagon.”

  Salty couldn’t get used to Jared being able to hear things long before anyone else. The boy’s senses appeared to have sharpened to compensate for his leg.

  Ellen jumped up from where she’d been watching the doctor remove Salty’s thorns. “I’ll go see.” She was out of her seat and through the door with the speed of a gazelle.

  “I think she’s recovered from her ordeal,” the deputy said.

  Salty tried to laugh. “If you’d seen what she did to Wallace, you’d know he suffered more than she.”

  The door was flung open and Ellen burst in. “It’s the Randolphs,” she announced, a little out of breath. “And they’ve brought two calves!”

  Rose, looking big enough to give birth at any moment, bustled into the room moments later. “George wanted me to stay in Austin until I had the baby, but I told him I wouldn’t get a minute’s rest as long as I knew you were in trouble.” She took one look at Sarah’s leg and turned to her husband, who had followed her through the door. “I told you she needed me. What can I do?”

  Salty’s body was covered in wounds, he had gone without sleep, and he had endured his most stressful twenty-four hours since the war. Nonetheless, he started to laugh. Well, it wasn’t exactly a laugh; it was more like a choking noise. But when Rose looked bewildered and then slightly miffed, it became a laugh. And the twinkle in Sarah’s eyes finished off what was left of his self-control.

  “Benton Wheeler,” Ro
se intoned, “don’t you dare laugh at me. I’m the one who told Sarah you were the best possible choice for a husband, that if she chose you, nothing would go wrong.”

  At that point he simply howled.

  Epilogue

  “I hate to leave so soon,” Rose said as she allowed her husband to help her into the wagon, “but George won’t get a minute’s peace until I’m back with a doctor. You’d think a woman never had a baby without a sawbones standing over her.”

  Sarah had enjoyed Rose’s company as well as her help during the last three days, but she was also anxious for life to return to normal. The friendship of the Randolphs was a blessing, but they had so much energy they overwhelmed everybody around them. She wanted to get back to just her family—Jared, Ellen, and Salty. Maybe Arnie and Dobie, too. She was also anxious for Salty to take his rightful place as her husband. She’d given up her room so Rose and George could have her bed, but then she’d shared with Ellen, Salty with Jared. Considering their respective wounds, they didn’t trust themselves to be in the same bed. That would happen tonight.

  “I expect Salty would feel the same if I were having a baby,” she said.

  “You can be sure I would.” Salty had entered the room, and from the look in his eye it was possible another baby or two might be in her future. That was all right with her. She wouldn’t mind a couple of little boys who looked like him. Now that they finally would be sharing the same bed, that was a real possibility.

  Salty winked at her. “If we get to buy Wallace’s ranch, I’ll need extra cowhands. Of course, they’ll have to grow up real fast.”

  Seeing the work that had been done here, George had offered to lend Salty the money to buy the neighboring ranch if he could get it at a decent price. Just thinking about this caused Sarah to shake her head in wonder. Only two months before she had been on the verge of losing everything. Now it was possible she and Salty would become the biggest landowners in the area. With the two bull calves George had given them, they would definitely have the best herd. And all because Salty’s name had fallen from her lips when she meant to say Walter.

  “If you have any more trouble, I’ll lend you Monty,” George said as they all went outside. He climbed up next to his wife in their wagon. “He’s been bored ever since the McClendons stopped stealing our cows and Cortina was driven back across the border.”

  “Can you bring Zac next time?” Ellen asked.

  “I’ll let you have him.” Rose laughed and patted her stomach. “I’ll soon have a replacement.”

  Sarah and Salty stood waving until the Randolphs’ wagon passed through the trees surrounding the house. Ellen ran alongside it—she would probably run all the way to the main trail—but Jared took up his favorite place: at Salty’s side.

  Sarah put her arm around Salty’s waist and hugged him. He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Tired?”

  “A little,” she said. “I love Rose, but she wears me out.”

  Salty laughed. “She’s a perfect wife for George. She’s probably the only woman alive with more energy than his brothers.”

  “I prefer you.” She looked up at Salty. It scared her to think how close she’d come to choosing someone else, how the difficulties of the past had almost closed her up to the possibilities of the future. If she hadn’t taken a chance on Salty, she would never have found her dreams. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

  “How can it be lucky to have a husband who’s so full of holes he looks like he lost a fight with a cactus?” Salty joked.

  “Because he got those holes protecting my daughter.”

  “Our daughter.” He put his arm over Jared’s shoulder. “With quite a bit of help from our son.”

  The look of happiness on Jared’s face filled Sarah’s heart to overflowing. Roger had given her children, but Salty was both her husband and their father. He loved her, and she him. Together, the future was theirs.

  No one but you could have done that, she thought. No one but you.

  About the Author

  Leigh Greenwood is the award-winning author of over fifty books, many of which have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Leigh lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. Please visit his website at www.leigh-greenwood.com.

  Read on for a sneak peek of the first book in the brand-new Men of Legend series by New York Times bestselling author Linda Broday:

  To Love a Texas Ranger

  Central Texas

  Early Spring 1876

  Wind sighing through the draw whispered against his face, sharpening his senses to a fine edge. A warning skittered along his spine before it settled in his chest.

  Texas Ranger Sam Legend had learned to listen to his gut. Right now it said that the suffocating sense of danger that crowded around him had killing in mind. Deep in the Texas Hill Country, he brought the spyglass up to his eye and focused on the rustlers below. All fifteen had covered their faces, leaving only their eyes showing.

  Every crisp sound swept up the steep incline where he hid in a stand of cedar. “Hurry up with those beeves! We’ve gotta get the hell out of here. Rangers are so close I can smell ’em!” a rustler yelled.

  Where were the other rangers? They hadn’t been separated from each other long and should’ve caught up by now.

  Letting the outlaws escape took everything he had. But there were too many for one man, and this bunch was far more ruthless than most.

  He peered closer as they tried to drive the bawling cattle up the draw. But the ornery bovines seemed to be smarter. They broke away from the group, scattering this way and that. Sam allowed a grin. These rustlers were definitely no cattlemen.

  A lawman learned to adjust quickly. His mind whirled as he searched for some kind of plan. One shot fired in the air would alert the other rangers to his position if they were near. But would they arrive before the outlaws got to him?

  Or…no one would fault Sam for sitting quietly until the lawless group cleared out.

  Except Sam. A Legend never ran from a fight. It wasn’t in his blood. He would ride straight through hell and come out the other side whenever a situation warranted. As a Texas Ranger, he’d made that ride many times over.

  From his hiding place, he could start picking off the rustlers. With luck, Sam might get a handful before they surrounded him. Still, a few beat none. Maybe the rest would bolt. Slowly, he drew his Colt and prepared for the fight.

  Though winter had just given way to spring, the hot sun bore down. Sweat trickled into his eyes, making them sting. He wiped away the sweat with an impatient hand.

  A half second from taking his first shot, cold steel jabbed into his back and a hand reached for his Colt. “Turn around real slow, mister.”

  The order grated along Sam’s nerve endings and settled in his clenched stomach. He listened for anything to indicate his fellow rangers were nearby. If not, he was dead. He heard nothing except bawling steers and men yelling.

  Sam slowly pivoted. Cold, dead eyes glared over the top of the rustler’s bandana.

  “Well, whatd’ya know. Got me a bona fide ranger.”

  Though Sam couldn’t see the outlaw’s mouth, the words told him he wore a smile. “I’m not here alone. You won’t get away with this.”

  “Well, I reckon we’ll just see.” The gun barrel poked harder into Sam’s back. “Down the hill.”

  Sam could’ve managed without the shove. The soles of his worn boots provided no traction. Slipping and sliding down the steep embankment, he glanced for anything to suggest help had arrived, but saw nothing.

  At the bottom, riders on horseback immediately surrounded him.

  “Good job, Smith.” The outlaw pushing to the front had to be the ringleader. He was dressed all in black, from his hat to his boots. “Let’s teach this Texas Ranger not to mess with us. I’ve got a special treat in mind. One of you, find his horse and g
et me a rope. Smith, march him back up the hill. The rest of you drive those damn cattle to the makeshift corral.”

  The spit dried in Sam’s mouth as the man holding him pushed him up the steep incline toward a gnarled oak high on the ridge.

  Any minute, the rangers would swoop in. Just a matter of time. Sam refused to believe that his life was going to end this way. Somehow, he had to stall until help arrived.

  “Smith, do you know the punishment for killing a lawman?” Sam asked.

  “Stop talkin’ and get movin’.”

  “Are you willing to throw your life away for a man who doesn’t give two cents about you?”

  “You don’t know nothin’ about nothin’, so shut up. One more word an’ I’ll shoot you in the knee.”

  Sam lapsed into silence. He could see Smith had closed his mind against anything he said. How far would he get if he took off running? He’d be lucky to make two strides before hot lead slammed into his leg. Even if he made it to the cover of a cedar, what then? He had no gun. No horse.

  His best chance was to spin around and take Smith’s weapon.

  But just as he started to make a move, the ringleader rode up beside on his horse and shouted, “Hurry up. Don’t have all day.”

  Sharp disappointment flared, trapping Sam’s breath in his chest. His fate lay at the mercy of these outlaws.

  They grew closer and closer to the twisted, bent oak branches that resembled witch’s fingers. Those limbs would reach for a man’s soul and snatch it at the moment of death.

  Thick, bitter gall climbed into his throat, choking him. The devil would soon find Sam’d already lost his soul, a long time ago.

  The steep angle of the hill made his breathing harsh. The climb hurt as much as his looming fate. He’d always thought a bullet would get him one day, but to die swinging from a tree had never crossed his mind.

  The outlaw sent to find and bring Sam’s horse appeared as they reached the top. The buckskin nickered softly, nuzzling Sam as though offering sympathy or maybe a last good-bye. He stroked the face of his faithful friend, murmuring a few quiet words of comfort. He’d raised Trooper from a colt and turned him into a lawman’s mount. Would it be too much to pray these rustlers treated Trooper well? The horse deserved kindness.