No One But You (19 page)

* * *

Once she'd cleaned up after supper, Sarah was so tired she felt like she could go to sleep standing up, yet she was too restless to go to bed. It was the same as the last few nights, actually. She'd tried to ignore the pressure building inside her by concentrating on work. But now things had changed. While they would probably be branding mavericks off and on for the rest of the year, they no longer had to be in the saddle from dawn to dusk. Salty had time to turn his attention to other projects.

The arrival several days ago of so much lumber had disconcerted her. She hardly knew how she felt about his decision to build an extra room onto the house. Three people in three bedrooms seemed extravagant, especially when Salty was sleeping in the shed. Should she suggest a different arrangement? She could share a room with Ellen, Salty share one with Jared, and Arnie and Dobie could share the third—but she wasn't sure how she felt about having the two men sleep in the house or having Salty so close.

She could insist that he use the lumber to build a bunkhouse…but Salty ought to be the one to decide how it was used, she admitted. He'd spent his own money for that lumber. She felt guilty about that, too. She didn't know how much money he'd earned working for the Randolphs, but he must have spent all of it on her and the children now. It was impossible to question his attachment to her family or his will to succeed. So, just what was her attachment to him?

Neither Arnie nor Dobie had commented on Salty sleeping in the shed, but they had to think it was odd, despite their excuse. She had begun to think it was odd, too. Salty was her legal husband. He ought to be sleeping in the house. He ought to be sleeping in her bed, to be honest. And she
wanted
him to sleep in her bed. She was finally able to admit that.

Unable to stand the confinement of the house, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and went outside. The night was full of the coming spring. The air was soft and warm. Moisture promised dew in the morning if not rain before.

The sound of a snorting horse emerged from a multitude of tiny indistinguishable night noises. She could almost hear the sap rising in the trees, flower buds swelling, and blades of grass pushing up through softened soil. Mother Nature was just as restless as she, eager to get on with the work of shedding her cloak of winter and revitalizing the land. Calves would be born, her sows would give birth to litters of six to ten pigs, the chickens would turn broody and look for places to build nests. The desire for change was all around. The earth would soon be resplendent with new beginnings. What about her? Did Sarah want a new beginning—one she hadn't originally planned? Or was she too afraid to take the chance?

She settled on the front steps, her bare feet on the cold ground. She liked Salty. From the way he'd been smiling at her lately, following her with his eyes, she was certain he liked her. All she had to do was let him know she would be receptive to a closer relationship. It would be good for the children, too. If they developed a closer relationship, maybe he really would stay attached to their family if and when she asked him for a divorce.

There was no question the kids had become so attached to Salty they would be devastated if he left. He'd taught Ellen how to use a rope, how to ride better, and how to use Bones to roust a steer out of the thickets where they liked to hide during the heat of the day. Teaching Jared to ride had guaranteed her son's lifelong devotion. He wasn't able to do much more than stay astride, but Salty had promised they'd experiment with different kinds of saddles. Watching her son glow with pride when he did things people had said he'd never be able to do had brought tears to Sarah's eyes on several occasions.

It was harder to evaluate exactly what he'd done for her. For so long she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything for anyone except her children. She hadn't had room for real emotions, because fear of failure overrode everything else. She'd drawn her lines of defense closely around her, closed out the rest of the world. She had hidden herself on an island of three in a sea of desperation…but Salty had changed that.

How lucky she was! She was married to a man who liked her, who thought she was beautiful, and who respected her right to decide what to do with her property, her life, and her person. It was inconceivable that he was so strong, both physically and emotionally, and she sometimes wondered if she was losing her mind.

She shivered and tucked her feet into the bottom of her nightgown. The ground was cold and the air smelled like rain, but she didn't want to go inside. The house was a prison, restricting her growth, confining her to old ideas of what was possible. Intellectually she realized it was a metaphor for the past that had caused her to withdraw into herself, and emotionally it felt like some living, breathing organism that had wrapped itself around her and wouldn't let go. And fear held her in place: fear that what she had learned about her possibilities was only a mirage. Once she left it, she'd never be able to retreat to her island of safety again.

Ignoring the cold and the first drops of rain, she got to her feet and walked across the yard. Salty's lumber was neatly stacked under the trees and covered by a tarp. At supper he had said he wanted to start building her bedroom in the morning, if it wasn't too wet.
Her bedroom
. No one had ever bought or done anything specifically for her. Everything had always been handed down from someone else. Even the clothes she wore had once been her mother's.

Things had changed, and she was glad. She wanted more for herself. She was no longer willing to just sit by and make do, not when she had the opportunity to have what she wanted. She didn't know how her body and emotions had been able to stage this successful revolt, or why her body longed for something it never before had, but she couldn't turn back. Not now. Whatever the reason, she wanted to be open to these changes—and to Salty's interest in her. It might yet be as much of a mistake as Roger had been, but she'd never know if she didn't try. She had to find the courage to reach for it.

She turned back to the house. It was starting to rain in earnest.

Sarah had made it clear at the beginning that she didn't want to be attracted to him. What confused Salty was that she seemed to be sending intermittent signals that she desired a closer relationship. He had never been very good with women, so he'd been inclined to attribute it to wishful thinking every time she sent a positive sign. Dobie had recently changed his mind.

“I wish a woman would look at me the way your wife looks at you,” the young man said one afternoon when he and Salty were working on the extra bedroom. Sarah and the children were working in the garden, and Arnie was digging holes for a fence to keep the cows out.

Salty didn't look up from where he was nailing together the frame for one of the walls. “How's that?” They'd all been working so hard and were so tired at the end of the day, he hadn't given much thought to anything other than how soon he could crawl into bed.

“Like she wants you to share this bedroom with her when it's done.”

Salty laughed. “You ought to pay more attention to your work and less to Sarah. She doesn't trust men, and she only married me because she couldn't see any other way out.” Salty hesitated to offer this explanation, but it was nearly impossible to keep secrets when they worked so closely together.

Dobie helped him raise the wall and hold it steady while he nailed it to the house. “She might have felt that way at first, but she's changed her mind.”

Salty nearly smashed his thumb with the hammer. He needed to pay more attention to his work instead of letting this youth get his hopes up. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Why?”

Salty grimaced. “I'm ten years older, so I've had plenty of time to learn that attractive women aren't interested in me. Whatever it is they want, I don't have it. Now let it drop.”

“I don't believe that,” Dobie said.

“Well, you're not an attractive woman, so your opinion's not worth a dead coyote's hide. Fetch me another load of two-by-fours. I've got two more walls to frame before supper.”

That conversation had taken place four days ago. Salty had tried without success to forget it. Since then, he'd weighed every word Sarah said to him and compared her every glance to those she gave Dobie and Arnie. He struggled to prevent his wants from affecting his judgment, but…Dobie was right. Sarah was definitely warming up to him. He had to figure out what to do about it.

“Are you losing your hearing, or do I have to turn myself into a horse to get your attention?”

He had been standing at the corral, staring vacantly out at the horses enjoying a late evening frolic before settling down for the night. He turned to see Sarah standing a short distance away, a mysterious smile playing across her lips.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was lost in thought.”

She moved a step closer. “Anything you want to share?”

Salty's throat closed. He was about as capable of communicating as one of the corral rails he was leaning against. Did he dare tell Sarah what he'd been thinking? Why not? If she wasn't happy about it, she couldn't throw him out any farther than he was right now. Besides, he was tired of Bones as a nighttime companion. He was tired of wanting to know what exactly she felt toward him.

“I was thinking about us.”

Framed in a halo of golden light cast by the sun that sank toward the far horizon, Sarah took another step closer. “In what way?”

She had just put the pony squarely in his corral, so he decided to tell her the truth. “I was thinking that my feelings for you had changed, and I was wondering if yours had changed, too.”

She stepped so close he could practically feel the heat of her. Maybe it was his own heat, or maybe he only imagined it—but he didn't imagine the fire in her eyes. “How? How have your feelings changed?”

There was no trace of disapproval in her tone, yet he felt he was about to take the biggest gamble of his life. “I promised to make you dislike me if I noticed a softening in your attitude. I don't want to do that anymore.”

“I'm glad,” she said.

He breathed an inward sigh of relief.

“Is that all?” she asked. She moved to the corral fence and looked up at him rather than at the horses. The heat of her presence was like a brush fire.

“Before I say anything else, I need to know if your feelings for me are the same.”

She hesitated. When she spoke, it sounded like a sigh. But her answer was, “Yes.”

Yes? Damn. That's what he got for listening to a seventeen-year-old kid's advice about women. He and Dobie were just two frustrated men with so little to occupy their minds that they were indulging in fantasies of what they wished were true. Everything he'd seen in her eyes was a projection of his own desire.

“Yes, I'm still attracted to you,” she said. “But now it's a lot more than just physical.”

He was silent, surprised.

“Do you like more about me than my looks?” she asked. “Roger told me that's the most important thing about a woman.”

He thought she was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Entranced by her nearness, he murmured, “A man appreciates beauty in all things, whether it's his horse, spring flowers, or the woman he hopes to marry.”

In the nearby pen the pig snorted.

Sarah's smile became one of amusement, and her eyes danced. “Hopes? We're already married.” Was that an invitation, or merely a statement of fact?

Salty shook his head. “I guess I wasn't very clear. I see my horse as a valued partner in the work I have to do. I appreciate flowers for the lift they give my spirits. I look for all that and much more in a woman, especially if she's my wife.”

“How's that?”

He wasn't sure what he was saying. He was rambling. He'd compared her to a horse! He wished Rose were here; he was sorely in need of advice. “I've never been married nor kept regular company with a woman, so my ideas about what I want are so vague I'm not sure I can put them into words.”

She seemed unperturbed. “Except for being married to a man my father chose against my wishes, my experience hasn't been that different from yours.”

“You have two children and have managed a ranch for six years.”

She shrugged. “You fought a war, watched people die, and lost everything you had—all without losing your basic decency, honesty, and love of life. And you have a wonderful ability to care deeply for others.”

“It's easy when others care about you.”

“People don't care about people who aren't worthy,” she pointed out. “They might fear them or feel a duty toward them, but they don't care about them the way you care about Jared and Ellen.”

Why
did
he care so much for her children? Was it because it was natural for adults to care about children? Was it because they'd suffered misfortune with bravery and cheerfulness, and he wanted to somehow make their bad luck up to them? Did he care because they were Sarah's children? It was all of that and more. They were people with different personalities and needs. They'd shouldered the responsibilities of adults yet still looked at the world with the openness of children. They'd accepted him without reservation and looked for reasons to be with him.

He was distracted by the sound of the chickens squabbling over the best tree limbs as they searched for a place to roost for the night. That reminded him of the fun he'd had building the pen with the children's help, of Ellen chasing down escaped chickens, of Jared's relief that he no longer had to search through bramble patches for eggs. He hadn't realized it until now, but he loved them. The two children had drawn him into their family, giving him the love and acceptance he'd never had. He'd have to be stone-hearted not to love them in return. His feelings for Sarah were like that, too, but with some very important differences.

“I never knew what it was like for two people to truly love each other until I went to work for George Randolph,” he said. “Rose runs that family with an iron hand, and the others let her because they know she does it out of love. They're such a strong-willed bunch, the boys can get into an argument over the shape of a cloud, but they'd each face the world alone to defend Rose. I didn't know that kind of love was possible. It's like a circle. Inside, everyone is allowed to be himself, no matter how obnoxious, but they all stand together to face the outside.” He paused. “I'm not saying it very well.”

“I think you're doing just fine.”

He wasn't. How could he describe what he'd never experienced? “I didn't have brothers or sisters, and my family did its best to tear itself apart. I want the love that keeps the Randolphs together despite their differences.”

“Jared and Ellen love you,” Sarah said.

He nodded. “But they're children. A man needs the love of a woman to make his life complete.”

There was a brief pause. “Are you asking if I love you?”

They'd stood close to each other for the last several minutes, but they hadn't moved closer. Salty eyed the horses being swallowed by lengthening shadows, then the darkening sky. Now, when he needed to see her face, to be able to read her expression, he couldn't. It was that awkward time between dusk and dark, when there was no longer any reflected light from the setting sun, when the sky was still too light for the moon to achieve its full brightness. Everything was shrouded in hazy shadow.

The chickens had settled in for the night; the pig was quiet. The horses glided noiselessly through the gathering twilight. The breeze had died, leaving the dry grass stiff and motionless. He hadn't intended to ask Sarah anything, but now, even if he was in danger of pushing for an answer too soon, he wanted to know. “No, but I won't stop you if you want to tell me.”

Sarah turned to face him, reached out to rest her hand on his forearm. “Until I married you, I thought all men were like my father and husband. I didn't want to be with a man again because I had found it distasteful and humiliating. I was certain I could never care for any man enough to join my life with his.” She paused. “Do you care for me enough to help me change my mind?”

Salty hadn't expected a bald statement of her feelings, but her words were clear enough for him. He traced the outline of her jaw with the tip of his finger. “I don't care what you think about other men. Just about me.”

“I have no more experience with men than you do with women,” she explained. “I don't know what to say.”

“I don't want you to say anything,” he replied. “I want you to show me how you feel.”

“How?”

“Like this.”

Salty had nothing to guide him except his instincts and a powerful desire to take Sarah in his arms. Remembering Rose's admonition not to be shy about letting a woman know how he felt, he reached for Sarah and pulled her into his embrace. He hoped she couldn't tell that his heart was pounding in his chest and, brushing aside all worry, he kissed her. The effect was so powerful it nearly took his breath away. He had held women in his arms and kissed them, but it had never been anything like this. Before, it had been more like having a plan and systematically following through. This time he acted on impulse. His reward was a feeling that he'd never really been alive until now.

What was he supposed to do next? Was one kiss enough? Should he stand back and wait for her to make the next move? He didn't know what he was supposed to do, though he had no doubt about what he wanted to do, and that was to keep right on kissing her. He could never get enough of Sarah, because every little bit left him wanting more.

Her mouth was soft, her lips sweet, her kiss firm. It took him a few moments to realize she was neither shy nor reluctant; she was kissing him back with an eagerness that matched his own. Rather than attempt to hold herself apart from him, she had pressed forward until their bodies were connected from chest to thigh. The effect on him was so rapid and pronounced he was certain she would pull away. Much to his surprise, she actually leaned closer, pressing herself against his hardness until he felt he would burst.

It was hard to keep his mind on something as simple as a kiss when his body felt like it was on fire. He felt like he was losing control, even losing contact with reality. He was on sensory overload. Not even the heat of battle had affected him so forcefully.

It took every bit of willpower to break the kiss and hold her at arm's length, and she looked bewildered and hurt. “Did I do something wrong?”

He could only shake his head. It was impossible to find words to describe her effect on him. George had never appeared to be rendered senseless when he kissed Rose, so why should it affect him this way? Was it because this was the first time he'd kissed Sarah? Because the situation was so unexpected?

“Something
is
wrong,” she pressed.

“No.” He managed to force his brain to focus. “I was just surprised. I'm not sure my heart can stand it.”

Her smile was teasing. “I've seen you wrestle a steer to the ground.”

“That was easy. The steer wasn't kissing me.” Taking her hand, Salty turned her so they could both lean against the rails.

Sarah's laughter hung in the air like the sound of chimes in the wind. Funny how everything sounded and felt better after a kiss from the woman you loved. “
That's
something I'd like to see.”

Salty shivered at the unintentional image he'd created. “Not a chance. I much prefer kissing you.”

“Then why aren't you?”

He didn't waste time trying to answer. Pushing off from the rail, he wrapped her again in his embrace.

Their second kiss didn't affect him as powerfully, but he was able to enjoy it more for that very reason: he could explore the softness and sweetness of her mouth, revel in the sheer ecstasy of having the woman he loved welcome his kisses. He didn't have to follow some protocol he didn't understand, like he'd sometimes felt with other women. It wasn't like a reward for good behavior; it didn't seem that if he didn't do it right he'd fail some test. All he had to do was kiss her.