No One But You by Leigh Greenwood Page A

money.
    â€œWhat things?” Ellen asked.
    â€œI won’t know until you tell me something about your ranch.”
    â€œWhat do you want to know?”
    â€œHow much milk does your milk cow give?”
    â€œWe don’t have a milk cow. A wolf got her one night, and Mama didn’t have money to buy another one.”
    â€œHow about chickens? Do you have plenty of eggs?”
    â€œI don’t know. Ask Mama.”
    Sarah was mortified to admit to so many failures. “It’s hard to keep chickens with coyotes around.”
    â€œWe can fix that. How about pigs?”
    â€œI have two sows.” One of the hired men had shot their boar, saying he needed something to eat.
    â€œHow do you breed them?”
    â€œI turned them out so they can breed with a wild boar.” She’d have had to turn the pigs out anyway, because she didn’t have any feed for them.
    â€œAt least we’ve got the horses covered,” Salty said.
    After a moment Ellen asked, “Is there anything else we have to do in Austin?”
    â€œThe most important thing of all,” Salty replied.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Ellen sounded excited.
    Salty laughed. “I know your mother knows, but why don’t you ask Jared? See if he knows.”

Seven
    â€œYou and Mama have to get married,” Jared said. “Is that what you mean?”
    â€œOf course. What could be more important?”
    Sarah thought Salty would have considered survival of the next twelve months his first priority. They needed to get all her cows branded and some rounded up to sell. Then they needed to find a way to protect a milk cow and chickens, locate her sows, and plant a new garden. Marriage was just a piece of paper, and in this case it signified nothing.
    â€œWhere are you going to get married?” Ellen asked.
    Sarah didn’t look at Salty as she answered, “We’ll go before a judge.”
    â€œI thought you had to get married in a church.”
    â€œMarriage is a legal contract, which is why you need a judge,” Salty said. “People get married in a church so they can share their happiness with family and friends.”
    â€œMama married Papa in a church,” Jared remarked. “But I don’t think she liked it.”
    Sarah flushed with embarrassment. It was difficult to hide things from children. It was impossible to watch every word, the tone of her voice, her expression, when her life was gradually falling apart. How could she worry about such details when it took every bit of strength, every ounce of courage, to stave off panic, to keep them from knowing how close they were to disaster? At least they didn’t know their father had been a dreadful husband and father and that she’d hoped he wouldn’t come back. She still felt guilty for that.
    If it didn’t have something to do with horses or cows, Ellen quickly lost interest. “Can I sleep on the ground tonight?”
    â€œYou’ll have to ask your mother,” Salty said.
    â€œShe made us all sleep in the wagon,” Ellen told him. “I didn’t even have room to turn over.”
    â€œThe ground is dry, and I have a bedroll,” Salty said. “Maybe your mother will reconsider.”
    Sarah felt a twinge of irritation. Ellen was her daughter; the decision about where she slept belonged to her, not Salty. She hoped he didn’t think that just because he would become her legal husband he had a right to tell her what to do with her children.
    â€œSalty will need his bedroll for himself,” she told her daughter.
    Ellen wasn’t ready to give up. “I’m tired of riding in the wagon. Can I ride one of the horses?”
    Sarah was tired of riding in the wagon as well. The uneven road had jarred her body until her joints ached. Her discomfort was partially relieved by the bright sunshine that penetrated her clothing and warmed her body. The sun felt so good on her face it