No One But You (24 page)

“He's bleeding internally,” Salty said. “There's nothing we can do for him, unfortunately, just bandage him up. You did a good job,” he told Jared. “Better than I could have done.”

The boy looked at the wound then turned bleak eyes to Salty. “But he's going to die anyway. Isn't he?”

Salty looked at the wound. It looked bad, but for some reason he didn't want to give up hope.

“You don't need me,” Arnie said. “I think I'll go.”

“Me too,” Dobie said. “Come with me,” he told Jared. “I'll help you wash up.”

“You're messy too, Salty,” Ellen pointed out.

Salty looked down at the blood-covered knife in his hand. Sarah said, “Go with Jared and clean up. Ellen can stay with me.”

In the kitchen, Jared was letting Dobie wash his hands. The boy watched in silence while Salty washed his hands and the knife. Dobie glanced down as though unsure whether he should speak.

“What is it?” Salty asked.

“Do you want us to start digging a grave?”

Salty wondered how old you had to be before death stopped being something that happened to other people. For him, the incalculable waste of war had done nothing to inure him to it. It seemed particularly inhumane to talk about burying Roger while he was still alive, and in front of his child, but life seldom waited for the dead. “Not yet. Sarah should be the one to decide where he will be buried.”

“Then I'm going back to sleep.”

“You ought to go back to bed, too,” Salty said to Jared. “There's nothing more you can do.”

“I want to sit with Mama and Ellen.”

“We can all sit together,” Salty said.

Little had changed when they returned to the bedroom. Sarah still held a blood-soaked pad to Roger's chest. Ellen remained at her mother's side. Roger looked the same.

“Want me to take over for a while?” Salty asked.

“I already offered,” Ellen spoke up. “She wouldn't let me.”

Salty wanted to speak but was afraid anything he said would be wrong. Sarah hadn't wanted Roger to die, even though his return had complicated her life and her children's. Salty wished the children weren't going to witness their father's death, but it seemed an inevitability. At least they'd had a chance to see him again. He had come back and claimed them. Maybe that was enough to balance against his abandonment.

Salty had been so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice Roger stop breathing. He only noticed when Sarah sat up, lowered her head and whispered a short prayer.

“Is he dead?” Ellen asked.

Her mother nodded.

“Do you want me to lay him out?” Salty asked.

“No. I should be the one to do it.”

“Can I help?” Ellen asked.

“No,” Sarah said. “This isn't something you should have to handle.”

“Come on,” Salty said to Ellen. “It's long past your bedtime.”

Sarah cast Salty a weak smile of thanks. “Come back when you're done.”

It didn't take long for Ellen and Jared to get back into bed. Salty hovered over them for a few minutes, stroking their hair and calming them. They were taking the death rather well. Salty supposed they hadn't known Roger very well. He also supposed it was for the best.

He was back about five minutes later with Sarah. “What can I do?”

“Sit with me and listen while I talk.”

He did.

Sarah purged. She talked about how she hadn't wanted to marry Roger, how she'd begged her father to no avail not to force her. She talked about Roger as a spoiled youth, when he was an irresponsible adult, when he was a thoughtless husband. She also talked about how her independent streak had run counter to everything Roger wanted in a wife, how her attempts to change had failed because she didn't
want
to change. She talked about his unhappiness with Jared, about his family's rejection of her and her children. She talked about the anger she'd felt for him, anger that increased with each growing hardship.

She then talked about realizing how Roger couldn't change any more than she could. The marriage had been as wrong for him as it was for her. She explained her feelings of rage when he returned, about her guilt that his death had removed the greatest impediment to her happiness. She talked about being sorry he'd never got to know his own children, yet was also relieved they would never know his true character.

Finally, she fell silent. Salty didn't know whether he should say something or stay quiet. This was uncharted territory for him. No woman had ever poured out her heart to him. Not in this way.

Unable to do nothing, he reached for her hand. It was rough from hard work but warm and supple in his grasp. With a sigh Sarah looked up at him and smiled then allowed herself to lean against him. They sat like that for some minutes, Salty wondering if she had more to say.

When she finally did speak, she seemed to have regained her composure. “I'm going to lay him out now. When I finish, I want you to take him to the sitting room. We'll bury him in the morning.”

* * *

Ellen yanked at her dress.

“Stop before you tear it,” Sarah scolded. She and the children were ready to leave the house. The men had already placed Roger's body in a box next to the open grave.

“Why do I have to be dressed up?”

“People always dress up for funerals. It's a sign of respect.”

“Why should we respect him?” Jared asked. “He was mean.”

It was a hard question to answer. She felt like a hypocrite asking her children to honor the man who'd abandoned them. Maybe it wasn't Roger's fault his parents had pampered him because of his looks, leading him to believe he deserved things just because he wanted them, or maybe he should have had the strength of character to overcome that fault. She couldn't say. All she knew for sure right now was that she wanted her children to think the best of their father, at least in all ways that would affect how they thought about themselves.

“People don't always do what they should when they're alive. We just have to trust your father did the best he could.”

“Maybe he did,” Jared conceded grudgingly, “but Salty would never have been like that.”

“I'm sure you're right,” she admitted. “Now, we can't keep everybody waiting.”

It had taken most of the night to decide where to bury Roger. Sarah had settled on a spot inside the band of trees that circled the house. That would honor his position as part of the family, but he would be also separated from the new family she was forming.

Once outside, they walked together, Ellen on one side and Jared on the other. Ellen would grow up to be a lovely woman, but Jared was going to be a heartbreaker. She found it ironic that the child Roger had rejected should end up being even more handsome than his father. She was proud of both children. They had inherited the best of both parents without the flaws.

They all gathered at the grave. Salty, Arnie, and Dobie stood opposite her and the children. She knew she had to say something, but Sarah was still searching for the right words. The silence lengthened.

Roger didn't look so handsome now, but there was a humanity to him that had been lacking before. Maybe the war and two years in the goldfields had taught him some of the lessons he'd failed to learn earlier. After all, he had come back to them. Maybe he'd intended to make good on his marriage vows and hadn't really been grasping at straws financially. Maybe the reason he'd been so angry was surprise at finding another man in his place.

She cleared her throat. It was time.

“We're gathered here to remember the life of Roger Winborne, son of Anson and Jessica Winborne, first husband of Sarah Pettishall Winborne, and father of Ellen and Jared Winborne. He was a delight to his parents and a favorite of many who knew him.” That wasn't too much of an exaggeration. He had gotten along fine with anyone who wasn't married to him. “He was a good soldier who survived the war to return to his family. He died trying to protect their home.”

She debated saying more, but her mind was blank. Roger looked so calm and peaceful, so
ordinary
, not like the man she remembered. He seemed to be indicating that he understood, that it was time for him to rest, that it was time for them to move on. Perhaps in death he was giving her the understanding he'd been unable to provide in life.

“Are you ready to bury him?” Salty asked.

“Yes.”

Salty and Dobie fitted the top to the coffin and nailed it shut. They were preparing to lower it into the grave when they were interrupted by the arrival of several riders. Wallace's foreman was in the lead. He eyed the coffin with an odd expression.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked.

“Mr. Wallace rode out last night, said he was heading over this way. He never came home.” He indicated the coffin. “That wouldn't be him you're fixing to bury, would it?”

“That's my pa,” Ellen told the foreman. “Mr. Wallace killed him.”

The foreman cast a scornful glance at Salty. “It looks to me like your pa is doing just fine.”

“Mr. Benton is my second husband,” Sarah told the foreman. “Roger Winborne was my first. He was the father of my children.”

“The lady we all thought was a widow woman suddenly has two husbands?”

Sarah had been so focused on the foreman she hadn't realized Salty moved until he stood between them. “If you have questions, ask them in a civil manner and we'll answer. If you can't do that, you can ride out of here right now.”

The foreman regarded them with a fixed expression for a moment then relaxed into an apologetic smile. “Sorry if I've been rude, but we've spent the morning searching the ranch without finding my boss or his horse.”

“I don't know where Mr. Wallace is, but he was here last night, all right—attempting to scatter our cows and horses. Roger, Sarah's first husband, tried to stop him. Three of us saw Wallace shoot him. We didn't try to stop him from getting away because we were more concerned with Roger. He died a short time later.”

“I never heard much about your first husband,” the foreman admitted to Sarah. “Where's he been all this time?”

Salty started to protest, but Sarah put her hand on his arm to stop him. “People have to know the truth, regardless of how awkward it might be,” she said. Turning to Wallace's foreman she explained, “When my husband didn't come home from the war, I thought he'd died. Yesterday, he came back. It was quite a shock.”

The foreman didn't say anything. He kept looking at the coffin, though, and Sarah knew what was on his mind.

“Salty, please open the coffin to show Mr. Wallace's men that we're not burying their boss.”

Salty uttered a pithy curse but took the hammer from Dobie and pried the lid off the coffin. “All of you come look,” he said to Wallace's men. “I don't want any question about who's in here.”

“I've never seen Roger Winborne,” the foreman pointed out.

Two of Wallace's other men apparently had. They dismounted and walked over to the coffin. It took only a single glance for both to agree it was Roger.

“And you say Mr. Wallace shot him?” the foreman asked. “That doesn't make sense. Why would he do that?”

Jared pushed forward. “He was stealing our cows.”

“He thought we were stealing his,” Sarah said.

“Why would he think that?” the foreman asked.

“You heard what he said the other week,” Salty reminded him. “He was angry about the whole situation. We gathered up some unbranded cows today—from
our
land—and put them into the corral with the horses. Wallace was apparently trying to drive them out. Our dog alerted Roger. Wallace shot Roger when he tried to pull him out of the saddle. I can only assume Wallace hasn't come home because he'll be arrested for murder.”

“He's telling the truth, Gary,” Dobie said to the foreman.

“I was a little ways behind those two,” Arnie said, “but I definitely saw Wallace shoot Roger. When he saw us, he kicked Roger and took off.”

“Don't expect me to do anything about it,” Gary said. “I won't turn my own boss in for something I didn't see. How do I know you're telling the truth?”

“I don't like the idea of working for a murderer,” one of Wallace's men said.

“Me neither,” said another.

“You don't know he's done any murdering,” a third man said. “You only got these folks' word for it.”

Dobie addressed the last speaker. “You know I don't lie, Tully.”

“Why should I believe a quitter?” Tully demanded.

“I quit working for Wallace because he ordered us to brand any cow on his land even when we knew it didn't belong to him.”

Salty turned to Gary, raising an eyebrow.

“I never did that,” the foreman said. “Whenever I saw one of your unbranded cows wander on our range, I hazed it back.”

“Tully told Wallace about it,” Dobie said, pointing a finger at the cowhand. “Gary had to make up a story to keep from getting fired.”

“Talking is getting us nowhere,” Sarah said. “You need to find your boss and we need to bury Roger. Why don't you send for the sheriff?”

“If you want to set the law on him, you ought to be the ones to send for the sheriff,” Tully growled. Sarah sensed Gary felt the same.

“That seems fair,” she decided.

“I don't mind going to Austin,” Dobie volunteered. “I might even manage to meet a sympathetic senorita,” he added, winking.

“Then we'll be off,” Gary said. “I'll act like nothing's changed and let the law handle everything.”

Sarah didn't like it, but she wasn't too surprised. The man had only their word to go on, and Wallace was his boss.

“I'll leave as soon as we're done burying him,” Dobie said, indicating Roger's coffin. “Expect to see the sheriff in two days.”

* * *

In actuality, it was three days before he returned. Sarah spent the time trying not to think about Mr. Wallace and the evil he'd done, trying not to worry that he might attack them again. Something had been disturbing their herd. Longhorns were never comfortable around people, but their cows had been more skittish than usual. They couldn't discount the possibility that a wolf had moved into the area—or that Wallace was continuing his harassment.

“Dobie's back.” It was a warm day, and Jared had been sitting on the steps in the sun shelling dried peas for supper. “He's got somebody with him.”

Sarah didn't stop churning. It was a treat to have enough milk to make butter again. She was planning on making a cake, the first she had made in more than a year. She had to get this done.

“Do you know where Salty went?” she asked.

Things had changed once Salty finished the extra room. Sarah had moved into it, and Ellen had moved into her mother's old room. Deciding it was better to wait until Roger's death had been officially cleared up, Salty had opted to share a room with Jared rather than Sarah. That enabled Arnie to move into the shed, which he would share with Dobie until they could afford to build a bunkhouse.

“Salty said he and Arnie were going out to sweep the range for more unbranded stock. They were also going to look around to see if they spotted any tracks.”

Dobie and the stranger rode up. The man accompanying Dobie introduced himself as John Willis, deputy sheriff. He appeared quite young for the job, but he gave the appearance of a man confident in his abilities.

“Did you arrest Mr. Wallace?” Jared asked.

“He's disappeared again,” Dobie said, his expression one of disgust.

“What do you mean
again
?” Sarah asked. “Sorry, I'm being rude. Please come into the house. It won't take but a few minutes to make some coffee.”

The deputy sheriff dismounted. “Thanks, but I don't want to stop your butter making.”

“We're going to have a cake,” Jared informed him. “Mama's going to put blackberry jam between the layers!” Sarah felt embarrassed that something as simple as a cake should cause the boy such excitement, but she was excited, too. She was glad they were able to enjoy such a treat again.

“Sounds good,” the deputy said. “Maybe you'll save me a piece for when I come back.”

Jared shook his head. “Salty said he was going to eat everything left over for breakfast tomorrow.”

“That's enough,” Sarah spoke up. “It's not kind to tease the man about what he can't have.”

“I wasn't teasing,” Jared protested. “I was just telling him.”

“Did you have something you wanted to tell us?” Sarah asked the deputy.

“Mr. Wallace went home two days ago.”

“He brought in a bunch of cows and ordered Gary to brand them,” Dobie spoke up. “Gary wouldn't do it because of what we said. He didn't know where they'd come from.”

“Some of them looked too young to be weaned,” the deputy added.

“I bet he stole them from us,” Jared said.

“One of Mr. Wallace's men told him that you all saw him shoot your first husband who everybody thought was dead. Mr. Wallace swore it was a lie. He tried to talk his men out of believing it.”

“He told Gary he had come over here to talk to you about doing a roundup together,” Dobie inserted. “He said Salty must have seen that as an opportunity to shoot Roger and blame it on him. He said we'd been trying to steal his cows. But after that, he disappeared and no one has seen him since.”

“I can assure you there's no truth in his accusations,” Sarah said to the deputy. “Why would he come over in the middle of the night to discuss a roundup?”

“I already told him Arnie and Salty would swear to what they saw, too,” Dobie said.

“What do you want us to do?” Sarah asked the deputy.

The deputy shook his head. “Nothing yet. Dobie has sworn out a complaint against Mr. Wallace. That's all I need until I find him. Now, I'd better be getting along. It's a long ride to Austin, which is where I think he went.” He mounted up. After settling into the saddle he said, “Wallace is a rich man with some powerful friends. Don't be surprised if they try to charge your second husband with murdering your first.”

“How can they?” Sarah asked, outraged. “No one saw what happened but us. And it's not true!”

“I don't know what these folks might do, but…witnesses can be bought.” Willis seemed embarrassed to admit the possibility.

“I ain't changing my story,” Dobie stated. “Not even if somebody offers me a hundred dollars.”

Salty wouldn't face false charges if Sarah could help it. “My husband has powerful friends, too. Contact the Randolph family. They have a ranch in—”

Willis laughed. “I know where their ranch is. After the parade last year to honor their father, everybody knows the Randolphs, and that they're friends with Richard King.”

“Salty also knows Jake Maxwell. He served with George Randolph in the war.”

Raised eyebrows showed the deputy was duly impressed. “The support of these men will stand your husband in good stead if any charges are brought,” he said. “But be prepared for Wallace to cause as much trouble as possible.” With that, the lawman turned his horse and rode off.

“They won't put Salty in jail, will they?” Jared asked.

“Not a chance,” Dobie said. “By the time Arnie and I get through telling what we saw, they'll be building a gallows to hang Wallace.”

Sarah doubted Wallace and his friends could succeed in sending Salty to jail, but she was concerned about the rumors that might start. Being accused of murdering Roger so that he could stay married to her would follow him like a bad smell, and she hated the idea of anything sullying his reputation. He was the finest man she knew.

“I hate Mr. Wallace,” Jared said. “If he's really saying those things about Salty, I want him to hang.”

Sarah was upset that her son should want anyone to hang, but she didn't know what to say. He was just seven, too young to understand the damage that hate could do. He only understood that their neighbor was trying to take away someone who was very important to him. “Mr. Wallace isn't a nice man, but we shouldn't hate him.”

“Why not?”

Hate was a useless and destructive emotion that would do far more damage to Jared than it could ever do to Wallace. Besides, it was hate and jealousy that had made Wallace what he was. But before she could explain that to him, Ellen came running up, still smeared with dirt from working in the garden. “Who was that man that rode away? What did he want? Did they find Mr. Wallace? Why didn't you call me?”

“That was the deputy sheriff,” Sarah told her daughter. “He hasn't found Mr. Wallace yet, but they're looking for him.”

“Mr. Wallace said Salty killed Roger,” Jared told his sister. “He wants to put Salty in jail and hang him.”

Ellen turned to her mother, her eyes filled with a fear Sarah had never seen. “They can't do that, can they?”

It was impossible to be unaware of the importance of Salty in her life and the lives of her children, but the threatened loss was pushing both her children to the edge of panic. She drew them close and promised, “No one is going to put Salty in jail, and no one is going to hang him.”

“But the deputy said—”

“He said Mr. Wallace would try to cause trouble, Jared. He may try, but he won't succeed. Salty's friends are rich and powerful, too. But he doesn't need them because he has the truth on his side.” She prayed that was true.

“He'll have them anyway, won't he?” asked Jared.

“Yes, he'll have them anyway.”

“He'll have Arnie and me, too,” Dobie assured the boy. “Ain't nobody going to make us say anything against Salty.”

“Now that
that's
settled, we need to get back to work,” Sarah said. “Salty is going to expect the garden to be done and supper ready when he and Arnie get back. And you,” she told Dobie, “ought to go help him.”

“I feel like I've been in the saddle for three weeks instead of three days,” Dobie pleaded. “My butt's got blisters on top of blisters.”

The children giggled. Sarah was glad.

“How much of those three days did you spend chasing senoritas?”

Dobie grinned at the children. “Sympathetic senoritas are not easy to find. Deputy sheriffs are much easier.”

Sarah laughed in spite of herself. “Get going, you rascal. A few hours of honest work won't kill you.”

“I like working for Salty better,” Dobie said. “He's not as tough as you.” He winked before turning and heading to the corral for a fresh horse.

A short time later they were all back at their allotted chores, but the haunted look remained in Jared's eyes. Sarah knew it wouldn't go away until Salty was home. Maybe not even then.