“But I only gave Cam a sandwich this noon.”
“We won’t starve.” Johnny pushed to his feet. “What can I get you first?”
“A glass of water. And a basin full, so I can bathe my hands again.”
He looked toward the doorway and saw a bucket of water sitting there. “Can we use that?”
“Not for drinking. I put my hands in it before.”
“All right. I’ll get some fresh.”
He ran outside. Cam was leaning against the well berm.
“Cool water for Sally,” Johnny said.
Cam waved in acknowledgment.
Johnny went back inside and carried the bucket in the bedroom over to the washstand. He set aside the empty pitcher and poured a couple of quarts of water into the bowl.
“Can you sit up?” he asked.
“Help me.”
Sally still wore the bodice of the dress she’d had on that morning, with her muslin chemise hanging down below it to her knees. Even so, Johnny could tell it mortified her that he was seeing her in this state of undress.
A quiet knock on the doorjamb made him cover her again quickly. Cam stood there with another pail of water.
Johnny took it from him. “Get me a cup?”
Cam fetched one and put it in his hand.
“Thanks,” Johnny said. “You’re on your own for supper.”
“I can fry up some bacon.”
Johnny nodded. He shut the bedroom door and dipped a cup of water for Sally. After setting it on the stand beside the bed, he grasped her wrists and pulled her up gently. She caught her breath, and her face went white.
“What hurts?” he asked.
“My leg.” She closed her eyes, and he thought she might have fainted. After several seconds, her eyelashes fluttered. “I’m sorry. Just help me get it over the edge of the bed, will you? It’s stiff and it hurts a lot, but if I could sit up, I think I could bathe it.”
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“No.”
“Yes. And I’ll dress it, too.” Careful not to touch her hands, he got one arm around her and eased her to the edge of the bed until she sat with her lower legs hanging down. Johnny brought over the cup of fresh water. “Ready?”
She reached for it instinctively but then drew back her hands. “Could you—?”
He put the rim to her lips and tipped the cup carefully. She drank half of it down and drew back.
“Thank you.”
Johnny set aside the cup and took a damp cloth that hung beside the washbowl. He rinsed it and wrung it out. “Now let me see the leg.” Kneeling beside her, he swabbed her wound tenderly. She gritted her teeth but said nothing.
“My mother used to put honey on burns,” he said. “But we don’t have any.”
“Butter?” she asked.
“Milk, I think. I’ll see if we have any salve. If not, I can soak some gauze in milk and wrap your hands.” He eyed her carefully. “Maybe you should see Dr. Neale.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Isn’t it? You seem to have a lot of pain.”
“I can bear it.”
Johnny frowned. “I’ll make you some of that tea.”
Sally lifted her chin. “Willow bark. I should have thought of it. And do we have any regular tea? I think my mother used that in poultices, too.”
“No, but I could send Cam for some.”
“It’s late. The stores will be closed.”
“Tomorrow then.”
She nodded.
A few minutes later, he settled her back on her pillow with the sheet laid lightly across her legs. “I’ll be back.”
In the kitchen, Cam had fired up the stove. The heat was oppressive.
“Have we got any salve for burns?”
“Not that I know of. Vinegar might help.”
Johnny winced. “That would hurt.”
Cam shrugged.
“I’ll have you go in to Doc Neale’s tomorrow and get something,” Johnny said. “And if she’s worse, you can fetch the doctor himself.”
“Burns can get infected easy,” Cam said.
“Yeah.” Johnny sank down on a stool. “You should have come and got me.”
“Didn’t want to leave her alone. Besides, she said…”
“What?”
“She told me not to get you. Said you wouldn’t want it.”
“That’s stupid. She didn’t say that.”
“Something like that.” Cam frowned as he turned the bacon in the skillet. “She said you didn’t want to be here. And I guess she’s right, the way you been acting.” Cam looked over at him and shook the fork at him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but if it was up to me—”
“Nothin’s going on,” Johnny said. “Absolutely nothin’.”
“Yeah. That’s about what I figured.”
Johnny met his gaze for about five seconds and turned away. He tried not to stomp too hard as he headed for the door, so he wouldn’t disturb Sally.
Liz Merton came on Thursday. Sally was much better then, up and about. The burn on her leg was healed over, and the skin had peeled a couple of times. Her hands were still tender, especially the left one, and she kept it bandaged during the day but left it open to the air at night.
“We missed you yesterday,” Liz said, “and then Dan ran into the doctor in town. I was so sorry to hear you’d burned yourself. Are you going to be all right?”
“I think so.” Sally beckoned her inside, and Liz set a basket on the table. “I brought you some grape jelly and a pecan pie.”
“You dear,” Sally said. “If my hands didn’t hurt, I’d hug you.”
“Well, I can hug you,” Liz said, and she did. “Sit down, honey.”
“Mark got me some black tea in town. The doctor says it’s good for poultices—draws the fluid out of burns. But I like to drink it, too. Would you like a cup?”
“I’d love it,” Liz said. “I see your kettle’s steaming. Let me get it.”
Sally directed her on where to find the cups, tea, and other things she needed.
“Is it just your hands, then?”
“There’s a place on my leg, but it’s a lot better now. Dr. Neale sent some salve for the places that weren’t blistered, and that worked fine. It takes the heat out of it somehow.”
“He’s a good one, Doc Neale.” Liz brought their cups over and set Sally’s in front of her. “Can you drink it by yourself?”
“I manage now.” Sally laughed, remembering how helpless she had felt on Monday and Tuesday. “Mark had to help me at first.”
“If I’d known, I’d have come and stayed with you.”
“Thank you.” It would have been so much easier if she’d had a woman handy to help her. The worst humiliation—other than Mark seeing her without her skirt and petticoat—had been when she’d finally begged him to loosen her corset for her late Monday night. She could tell such a thought had never entered his mind, and she wished she hadn’t had to put it there, but she’d grown increasingly uncomfortable and had swallowed her pride at last. He’d done what was necessary and then disappeared until morning. She didn’t blame him.
She felt dowdy now, receiving Liz without her stays in place, but she couldn’t manage the unwieldy garment alone yet, and she would die before she asked Mark to put it on her.
Liz sipped her tea. “Tell me what happened.”
“I wasn’t paying enough mind to my skirts, that’s all. I was doing laundry outside, because it was so hot in here.”
“That will do it,” Liz said with a nod. “Open flames and long skirts.”
“Yes. It was so quick.”
“Was Mark here?”
“No, but our hired man was. He came to my aid, or I’m sure I’d have suffered worse.” It was true, she reflected. She owed Cam her life, or at least a large measure of lessened pain. If Cam hadn’t been here…On the other hand, if Cam had been off on the other side of the ranch instead of Mark, and if Mark had been home, she p
robably wouldn’t have gone out to tend her fire during the dinner hour, and she certainly wouldn’t have been so distracted.
She enjoyed a chat with Liz, during which Sally gleaned much information about the other church members, and especially about the Mertons’ family life. Liz had three children who were all in school for another two weeks and then would have two months off during the hottest part of the summer.
“Now, I’m going to start dinner for you and your menfolk,” Liz said, rising and taking their teacups to the worktable.
“You don’t need to do that,” Sally said.
“I insist. Dan works all day at the rice mill, and he won’t be home for dinner today. What were you planning to serve?”
After a little more cajoling, Sally guided her in cooking the plucked and dressed chicken Mark had brought her that morning and preparing rice and greens.
“Did you get to set your bread this week?”
“No,” Sally admitted, “but you mustn’t. You’ve done so much already.”
“Hmm.” Liz looked around the little cabin and nodded. “I think I’ll stop by the Hoods’ on my way home. I expect Mary Pete could come out here tomorrow and give you a hand with that.”
“Oh, that’s too much trouble!”
Liz shook her head. “Nonsense. She’s a lively girl and would probably love to get out from under Mrs. Hood’s eye for a while. Not that she doesn’t get along with her mother-in-law, but you understand. A woman likes to get off on her own once in a while and have her own adventures.”
Sally smiled. She had never been forced to live with a mother-in-law, and right now such an arrangement would probably be a blessing. But memories of living in Effie Winters’s household were still vivid.
“If she truly wants to and is able, I won’t say no. Thank you so much, Liz.”
“I enjoyed every minute.” Liz took off Sally’s patchwork apron and hung it near the dish cupboard. “If you’re not up to coming to church this week, I’ll try to visit you again on Monday. If there’s anything that’s too bothersome for you with those poor hands, just leave it for me or Mary Pete. I mean it.” She kissed Sally on the cheek.
“Thank you. And for the pie and the jelly.”
“That’s nothing.” Liz squeezed her and picked up her bonnet and basket.
Sally followed her into the yard and watched as Liz climbed into her buggy. “Good-bye!”
“Don’t let that rice boil dry!”
Mark and Cam drove toward them along the road. They’d gone to Beaumont for more barbed wire and staples that morning. They waved to Liz, and Mark pulled the wagon over so she could pass them.
A minute later, he jumped down from the wagon in the yard. “Well, you had a visitor.”
“Yes, we had a lovely chat, and Liz brought a pie.”
“Sounds good,” Mark said.
Cam climbed down and went to the horse’s head. “I’ll tend to Reckless.”
Mark grabbed a sack from the back of the wagon and walked with Sally to the cabin. “Everything all right? How are your hands doing?”
“Fine, thanks to Liz. She got our dinner for us.”
“That was nice of her.” He held the door open for her and carried his sack to the table. “I stopped by Doc Neale’s. He sent a little pot of a new cream he just got in.” He fished in the sack and pulled it out. “Says to tell him if it works better than the other stuff, and if it does, he’ll order more to have on hand for patients.”
“Can you open it, please?”
Mark unscrewed the top, and she leaned over to sniff it.
“Smells all right.” She stuck her right index finger in it and took enough to smear across all her fingers.
“Want me to dress your palms with it?”
“Maybe after we eat.”
“I got you more tea, too, in case you want to make more poultices.”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful—and we’re nearly out, since Liz and I had a pot between us.” There was so much more she wanted to talk to him about, and Mark seemed to be in an open, soft mood, concerned for her well-being. But at that moment, Cam came in and hung his hat on a peg next to Mark’s.
“Something smells good.”
“Oh, I’d better get the rice off. Liz warned me not to let it go dry, and I’ve probably done just that.” Sally hurried to the stove and lifted the lid on the pan of rice. “Perfect. If you boys would carry things over, we’ll serve right from the pans today. Fancy serving dishes, but it will save you washing more. Mark, the chicken’s in the oven. It should be done now.”
The two men willingly went about setting the table and arranging the food. Cam poured coffee all around, and they sat down. Without a mention from her, Mark bowed his head and offered a brief prayer. Again, Sally felt he was making an effort to make things easier for her and to be a good husband. But when would they be able to talk about things that mattered? She still wanted to know about the poor man buried on the knoll, but another topic had hounded her this week.
Though Mark had stayed close to home Tuesday and Wednesday and done any chores she needed done, he still kept away from her at night. She longed for private time in their bedroom, where she could know Cam wouldn’t overhear them.
The more she replayed Monday’s events in her mind, the more she longed to tell Mark how Cam had frightened her before she was burned. Would that upset Mark? Or would he offer her reassurances that his friend wouldn’t do such a thing? Somehow she knew he would not confront Cam about the incident. And what could she give as evidence? Maybe it was better that she hadn’t told her husband. But if Cam ever put one whisker out of line again, she would hold him accountable.
CHAPTER 19
Johnny finished the windlass and tested it to be sure it worked right. Sally would be pleased, but then, she was always grateful when he did things for her. They had lived for the past several weeks in quiet camaraderie—at least he saw it that way. The tension seemed less between them since Sally was burned. She thanked him for sticking closer to home and letting Cam handle most of the jobs that required being away for hours on end, and she seemed to have accepted the pattern of their lives.
He pulled a bucket of water up from the well and carried it over to the stoop, where he’d built a rough washstand. While he was washing his hands, Sally came to the doorway. Her hands were healed over now but still tender. He didn’t let her pull up full buckets with the rope anymore—that had spurred him to building the windlass, and whenever he was aware that she needed water, he drew it for her. But he wouldn’t always be around.
He didn’t let her do the laundry, either, or anything else over the open fire. He and Cam had talked to other ranchers and people in town about an outdoor oven. So far all he’d come up with was a stone fireplace with a grate on it. That was an improvement, but still dangerous. Sally had said she could wear her skirts shorter, but he wasn’t sure he wanted her working over the flames again, ever.
He turned and gazed at her as he dried his hands. She was a picture, all right. Prettier than that first day he’d seen her, and that was saying a lot. Texas, despite its heat and wind and hardship, seemed to agree with her. The dress she wore today was the one she had sewn from the blue print cotton he’d bought her that first week.
“Do you know what day it is?” she asked.
Johnny shook his head and hung the towel over the railing. “Can’t be Sunday again already.”
“No, it’s Thursday, but that’s not what I meant. We’ve been married two months, Mark. It’s our anniversary.”
“Oh.” Was he supposed to have done something special? He must have shown his dismay, because she smiled a bit. His heart still quickened when he saw that, though he’d constantly tried to discourage the thoughts of holding her and kissing her—just plain loving her—that still plagued him.
“It’s just a day,” she said, but he could tell it was more to her.
“I’m glad you’re feeling well now. Come and see the windlas
s.”
She walked out to the well with him, and he demonstrated for her how easy it was to wind it and bring up a pail of water. He’d taken extra care to sand the handle so she wouldn’t get slivers in the new skin of her palms.
“Thank you.” She gazed at him again, but she didn’t smile.
She seemed troubled, and Johnny began to feel uneasy. He wanted to ask if there was anything wrong, but he was afraid she’d say yes, and he didn’t want to hear that. He wanted everything to be calm and peaceful between them, the way it had been lately.
The next morning, Mark rode out after breakfast without so much as a good-bye. Sally heard the hoofbeats and looked out the window in time to see Reckless’s hindquarters disappear on the road toward Beaumont.
No one had brought in the milk yet, which set her teeth on edge. Mark wouldn’t leave the cow unmilked, so Cam must be doing that now. She did up the breakfast dishes and settled down with her sewing. Her hands still hurt when she flexed them, but with her thimble and a leather palm patch, she’d begun sewing again for short periods each day.
She had discovered a new yard-goods shop in town and a possible source of income. Mrs. Ricks, who ran the shop, had taken a liking to Sally’s newest dress. She had started a conversation that ended with Sally agreeing to make her a dress in a complicated new pattern when she felt up to it. In exchange, Mrs. Ricks would give her a dress length of silk. Word would get around town, and Sally knew she would soon get more orders if she wanted them.
Her feelings on that subject were in chaos. One minute she wanted to succeed and tell Mark she could add to the ranch’s income. The next, she was ready to give it all up and go home to her mother. What kind of life was she living here, anyway, with a husband who wasn’t really a husband at all?
Of course, telling her parents would be difficult. That held her back, even on days when she was most frustrated with Mark. She had formed a pattern of her own, Sally realized. With David, she’d never told her family about the bad times. Now she did the same thing with Mark. Her mother had answered her first two letters, joyful that Sally was now closer to home and excited to think they might visit each other. Sally wasn’t sure she was ready for the humiliation of revealing how things really were.
The Outlaw Takes a Bride Page 20