The Touch of Sage

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “Well, hello!” came a voice from behind him. Reb turned to see three older ladies—each sweet, elderly face beaming with an impish smile.

  “Look who’s come to visit, gals,” the shorter one said. Reb thought she had too much color in her cheeks for her age.

  “That ain’t a visitor, Livie,” another said. “That there’s dessert!”

  Holding her skirt and petticoats, Sage hurried up the stairs to the second floor, all the time shaking her head as embarrassment from the display at the front door began to envelop her. How mortifying! That dog! What a sight she must’ve been to Eugenia’s nephew—answering the door covered in flour, Bullet taking her to the porch boards. A bleeding lip, for pity’s sake! It could not have been a worse introduction. And why hadn’t Eugenia told her about her nephew’s appearance? It certainly would’ve helped to have been forewarned. Then maybe she could’ve stopped staring at him—her mouth hanging open like a trout!

  Sage had reconciled herself long ago to the fact that if ever she did marry, it would be an older man—perhaps a widower. Certainly not a handsome young man the likes of who just stepped into the boarding house. Still, an attractive man entirely unnerved her—whether or not she saw such a man as out of her reach.

  “Miss Eugenia,” Sage said, knocking on the woman’s bedroom door.

  “Yes, dear?” came Eugenia’s sweet voice. She opened the door to her bedroom and gasped as she saw Sage. “Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed, reaching out and taking Sage’s chin in her hand to study the wound at the side of her mouth. “What on earth happened?”

  Shaking her head, indicating the wound was of no consequence, Sage said, “Your nephew is here.”

  Instantly, Eugenia’s eyes lit up. “Reb?” she squealed, clapping her hands together. “He’s here already?”

  “Yes, and—” Sage began.

  “Land’s sakes! Why didn’t he send a telegram first?” Eugenia said, taking hold of Sage’s hand and pulling her along behind as she fairly scampered down the stairs. “Oh, I can’t believe he’s actually here!” Pausing, Eugenia looked to Sage, an impish smile curling the corners of her mouth. “Isn’t he the handsomest thing you ever did lay eyes on, Sage?”

  Sage couldn’t help but smile at Eugenia’s pride in her nephew. After all, such an attractive relative was worth being proud of.

  “Yes, Miss Eugenia,” Sage admitted. “He’s very handsome.”

  Eugenia giggled like a schoolgirl and returned to her descent of the staircase. “And we better get down there before Rose has him cornered and kissin’!”

  Sage stumbled once as Eugenia pulled her down the stairs and into the parlor. The scene that met them there was nothing less than comical! Instantly, Sage felt sympathy for Mr. Mitchell as she saw him backed up against one parlor wall—Mary firing questions at him with the speed of a rifle, Rose toying with the button of one of his shirtsleeves, and Livie clasping his free hand adoringly. Still, she couldn’t stop a quiet giggle from escaping at the surprised look on the man’s face. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Reb Mitchell had obviously never dealt with the likes of the Willows’s Boarding House widows.

  “How old are ya then, boy?” Mary was asking, a characteristic frown of suspicion wrinkling her already wrinkled forehead.

  “Twenty-six, ma’am,” Reb stammered a moment before liberation arrived in the sound of Eugenia’s voice.

  “Reb!” Eugenia exclaimed. “Rebel Lee Mitchell! You angel! Why didn’t you send a telegram and let me know you were comin’?”

  Sage giggled again as she saw the man exhale, relieved as the other three women in the room stepped away from him, allowing his aunt to capture him in a loving embrace.

  “Thought I’d just send myself instead, Auntie,” the man chuckled.

  “I see you’ve met my friends,” Eugenia said, once they ended their embrace.

  The thought traveled through Sage’s mind, How wonderful it must feel to hug him. But clenching her teeth tightly, she quickly drove the notion from her mind.

  “Well, in a manner of speakin’, I guess,” Reb chuckled.

  “Then let’s be proper,” Eugenia said. Pointing to Rose, she said, “Mrs. Rose Applewhite…my nephew…rather my grand-nephew, Reb Mitchell.”

  Rose curtsied saying, “A pleasure, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “Ma’am,” Reb said, nodding a greeting.

  Eugenia smiled and gestured to Mary, “Mrs. Mary Farthen…Reb Mitchell.”

  Mary reached out and gripped the man’s hand in a firm shake. “Reb,” she mumbled.

  “Mrs. Farthen,” Reb said, returning her firm grip.

  “I’m Livie Jonesburg,” Livie interrupted, too impatient to wait her turn. Taking the man’s hand, she added, “And I’m delighted to have you with us.”

  “I’m glad to be here, ma’am,” Reb chuckled.

  “And I guess you’ve already met our Sage,” Eugenia said, pushing Sage forward.

  “Miss Willows,” Reb said nodding. Sage smiled and took the hand he offered, shaking it firmly. The heat from his hand again traveled the length of her arm, pooling warm and sweet in her bosom.

  “Met the dog too,” he added, smiling at Sage. “He gave Miss Willows here a bit of a run fer her money.”

  “That why yer lip’s bleedin’, Sage?” Mary grumbled. “I wondered what on earth all that racket was a minute ago. Where’s that mutt now?”

  Sage sighed. “I suspect he’s out visitin’ Mr. Simmons’s lady dog,” Sage told them.

  Mary chuckled as Rose and Livie shook their heads. “We’ll then…I suppose ol’ Forest will be over any minute now to propose marriage to ya again.” Sage blushed furiously as Reb looked at her, one eyebrow arched with curiosity.

  “Again?” Reb asked.

  Sage felt her fingers fiddling nervously with her collar button as he looked at her, waiting for an explanation. But her mouth was dry, her face hot, and she couldn’t say a word.

  “Ol’ Forest Simmons has less teeth in his head than a gray gander, and he’s always lookin’ for a reason to propose to Sage,” Eugenia explained.

  “Biscuits are ready,” Sage announced abruptly, thankful for the aroma of hot biscuits giving her an excuse to change the subject. “Have you had breakfast yet, Mr. Mitchell?” she asked.

  “Call me Reb,” he instructed. “And no…I haven’t.”

  “Well then, you have to have some of Sage’s biscuits! They’re divine!” Rose told him, taking his arm and leading him from the parlor and toward the kitchen.

  Sage smiled as Livie took his free arm and added, “And with a little bit of honey…you’ve never tasted anything so sweet.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Mary grumbled, following the others to the kitchen. “You all quit a-slobberin’ over the boy. Ya look like a pack a hungry hounds.”

  “Oh, you hush, Mary,” Rose told her. “There’s enough of this boy to go around. You’ll get your turn.”

  Sage looked to Eugenia, who was smiling—too amused to do anything else.

  “I never thought he’d cause such a fuss,” Eugenia said.

  “He probably feels like he’s stumbled into some saloon girls’ graveyard,” Sage whispered, trying hard not to giggle out loud.

  “The one where all the saloon girls go when they’re old and gray,” Eugenia added, also stifling her giggles. “Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got you here to give him somethin’ young and pretty to look at.”

  Sage felt her smile fade—felt extremely self-conscious all at once. She knew good and well she was no kind of young and pretty type woman to catch the eye of such a man. She was almost irritated with Eugenia for saying she was.

  But as the smiling faces of her friends, and the handsome face of Reb Mitchell, met her as she entered the kitchen, Sage pushed thoughts of loneliness and despair to the back of her mind. Or, at least, she tried to. However, as the man’s dark eyes seemed to follow her during each task of serving breakfast, she found nervous perspiration gathering at her temples—a slight tremblin
g in her hand—and she knew he was dangerous, this nephew of Eugenia Smarthing. This was the kind of man who left a trampled trail of broken hearts in his footsteps, and Sage Willows had no desire to feel the heel of his boot. She would have to strengthen her defenses—avoid him as much as possible.

  For pity’s sake! she thought suddenly. She didn’t even know him! Reb Mitchell was a complete stranger to her. Why was her mind lingering on how to keep from falling in love with him anyway? The very notion was ridiculous! And so, determined to purge her mind of even the idea of any silly schoolgirl daydreams about a handsome stranger, Sage sat down to breakfast.

  “Whatcha got in mind fer the ranch there, Reb?” Mary asked, buttering a steaming biscuit.

  “Well, I got me a purty big herd rounded up and waitin’ down in Santa Fe,” Reb answered. “I figure there’s probably some fence that needs mendin’ out on the ranch. That right, Auntie?” Eugenia nodded as she took a bite of her biscuit. “So,” Reb continued, drizzling honey over a biscuit with his fork, “I’ll patch up any fence troubles then have my partner, Dugger, run the herd out here for me.”

  “Are you…uh…unattached as yet, Mr. Mitchell?” Rose asked. Reb looked up at Sage and smiled when he heard her fork tumble to the table. Sage scolded herself silently. She was a mess of nerves, and she couldn’t seem to simmer down.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reb answered. “As unattached as they come.”

  “Well, that’s nice!” Rose exclaimed. “Ain’t that nice, Sage?”

  Sage wanted to simply curl up and die as Reb chuckled, all too wise to the woman’s inference.

  “Yes,” Sage said. “Milly Michaels and all the other girls in town will be pleased as petunias to hear that.”

  “I don’t plan on spendin’ much time in town,” Reb said. “Besides…I plan on stayin’ unattached, Mrs. Applewhite.”

  “You call me Rose, hun,” Rose told him. “And unattached is fine by me.”

  Sage felt her face go as hot as the embers in the oven. Did these women have no manners at all? She had never seen them so forward.

  “Yer indecent, Rose,” Mary scolded, slathering a biscuit with butter. “He’s Eugenia’s nephew for Pete’s sake!”

  “Yes, he is,” Rose admitted. “And he knows a little harmless flirtin’ never hurt anybody. Don’t ya know it, Reb?”

  Sage couldn’t even take a bite of the biscuit sitting on her plate. In reality, she had seen the widows do this kind of thing before—flirt, tease, flatter in their playful and friendly manner. But for some reason, it was causing her great discomfort this time.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reb answered with a smile. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little flirtin’.”

  “I like this boy, Eugenia,” Livie giggled. Eugenia smiled, obviously delighted with the goings on.

  “How ’bout sparkin’ then?” Rose asked. “You think there’s anythin’ wrong with a little sparkin’?”

  “Mercy sakes!” Sage exclaimed, fairly leaping from her chair. She couldn’t sit still any longer. All the talk of flirting and sparking with Reb Mitchell somehow completely disconcerted her. He hadn’t been in their company for fifteen minutes, and already they were asking the most personal, flirtatious questions a body could ask!

  “Nope,” came Reb’s chuckling answer. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little sparkin’ neither.”

  Sage went to the sink and worked the pump, filling the sink with water. She had no reason for doing so, save she needed something to distract the others from her nervous condition.

  “You see, Mary,” Livie said, “he’s game for a little sparkin’ here and there too.”

  “Well, he ain’t a-plannin’ on sparkin’ with you two…so let the man eat his biscuit ’fore Sage drops dead in the sink,” Mary grumbled.

  At that moment, Sage wondered if in fact dropping dead in the sink would be better than enduring the teasing of her friends. She knew darn well they were trying to embarrass her, attempting to discover whether Reb Mitchell might be a candidate for saving Sage Willows from spinsterhood. But good intentions often led to disaster, and Sage had never been more thankful to hear a familiar pounding on the boarding house front door.

  “Well…there he is,” Eugenia said, pushing her chair away from the table.

  “And here it comes,” Livie added, pushing her chair back as well.

  Sage took a deep breath, dried her hands on her apron, and started for the front door.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she said as Eugenia and Livie started after her. “He’s my dog, after all.”

  Bullet was a sweet dog, but he had caused Sage a lot of grief—especially where Forest Simmons and his precious lady dog were concerned. As much as she liked the troublesome pup, she wished Karoline and Joel had taken it with them—for he was obviously too much for Sage to handle. As the memory of being wrapped up and lying on the porch with Eugenia’s nephew, Sage sighed. Yep! Far too much for me to handle, she thought as she brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and drew in a courageous breath. Forest Simmons had a very distinctive manner of knocking on a door. Two knocks in succession, a pause, and then four knocks. No doubt he had found Bullet consorting with his lady dog and was crazier than a fox in a henhouse.

  “Hello, Mr. Simmons,” Sage said, opening the door to see Forest Simmons glaring at her. The scruffy old man held Bullet’s rope tightly in one hand, the truant mutt wagging his tail and panting happily.

  “This dog of yers is on his last leg, Sage!” the man nearly shouted. “I don’t want me no pups! I done told ya that last time!”

  “I-I know, Mr. Simmons,” Sage stammered. “It was an accident. He just—”

  “This would be my fault, sir.” Sage felt the hair on the back of her neck tickle at the sound of Reb’s voice behind her. Stepping in front of her, Reb offered his hand to the man and shaking it firmly said, “I own the dog now. Miss Willows give him to me just this mornin’, and I guess I just didn’t tie him up proper while I was in for breakfast.”

  “And who are you?” Mr. Simmons asked.

  “I’m Reb Mitchell…Eugenia Smarthing’s nephew,” Reb explained. “I’ve come up from Santa Fe to get the ranch runnin’ for her again. I do apologize for the dog, sir.”

  “Forest Simmons,” the older man said, eyeing Reb suspiciously. Sage watched his eyes move to her, traveling the length of her body and back, and she resisted the urge to sneer at him.

  “Well,” Mr. Simmons grumbled, “you just keep this mutt off my property. I don’t like puppies. I drown ’em.”

  “I’ll watch him a might closer, sir. I thank ya,” Reb said, taking Bullet’s rope from Mr. Simmons. “Thank ya again,” he said closing the door in the man’s face.

  Sage smiled, relieved to be rid of Mr. Simmons and delighted in the way Bullet put his front paws on Reb’s stomach, lapping at the man’s arms affectionately as he scratched the dog’s chin and ears.

  “Did I earn myself a dog here, Miss Willows?” Reb asked, chuckling. His smile was like nothing Sage had ever seen—white, bright, and dazzling. Reb was obviously pleased with the dog, and the dog was obviously pleased with Reb.

  “If you’re really willin’ to take him on, Mr. Mitchell. He’s a terrible handful,” Sage said. Bullet was far too restless and needed more training than Sage could provide. He was meant to be a man’s dog, and she would be happy to see him as such.

  “Then I thank ya for the gift and for the breakfast, Miss Willows,” Reb said, turning and striding to the kitchen—new best friend in tow.

  Sage watched him walk away—noticed the way his Levi’s fit him so perfectly, the way his shoulders rocked back and forth as he walked. An odd, long-absent flutter filled her bosom, and she frowned. It had been a very long time since any man had caused her to have butterflies in her stomach merely by being in his presence. She wasn’t comfortable with the sensation. Besides, Reb Mitchell had made it very clear he intended to stay unattached. He had come to help his aunt run her ranch. Sage could sense he had no other
agenda with him. It would be bad enough to dream of a man who would soon be the object of every woman’s fancy, but to dream of such a man who had no interest in attaching himself to anyone—well, that would be just plain ignorant.

  Sage returned to the kitchen and gathered up the plates from the table. The others were already involved in a lighthearted discussion, and Sage felt somewhat irritated when she noticed the way Bullet sat obediently at Reb’s feet. After all the grief the dog had heaped upon her, it was exasperating to see it give its loyalty over so quickly.

  “Reb says he’ll play rummy with us, Sage,” Livie announced. “Are you up for a game?”

  Sage looked to Livie but couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering to Reb. He sat grinning—winked at her unexpectedly.

  The gesture unnerved Sage, and she said, “Oh, I don’t think so. I need to get some things finished and start the pies for dinner.” Turning back to the sink, she added, “You be careful, Mr. Mitchell. They cheat.”

  As every other woman in the room erupted into defense of themselves, Sage glanced out the kitchen window. Several dark clouds had moved in from the west, and she could only hope and pray for the rain to come. Oh, how desperately she needed it now with her heart in danger of being distracted by Eugenia Smarthing’s attractive nephew.

  Eugenia paused in bantering with her friends. Something in Sage’s eye had caught her attention, and although she was happy to see it, her heart understood the battle beginning within the young woman’s heart and mind. She was a bit anxious where Reb was concerned too. Oh, he was friendly enough—as playful and kind as he had always been. Yet something was missing from his countenance. Was it trust—compassion? Eugenia couldn’t quite grasp the difference in her nephew, but it did worry her. She had the best intentions for both Sage and for Reb. But what if—what if what was said about good intentions proved to be true? Still, she was hopeful. Something had led Eugenia—prompted her to write to Bridie and allow Reb to come run the ranch. If the road to hell was paved with good intentions—well then, she would just trot on down it and give the devil a piece of her mind!