“More like a hussy,” Mary grumbled.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Rose sighed.
Eugenia smiled and chuckled herself. She could not believe the change in Sage! With her hair so soft and curled, loosely piled, the bright colors of the dress—all of it combined to entirely transform the girl. It was obvious from Sage’s countenance that it had been a very long time since she was pleased with her appearance. Eugenia’s innards thrilled with delighted anticipation. Oh, she was indeed anxious about the little plot she and her dear friends had hatched. Still, it was for Sage’s own good—and Reb’s. Sage would get over any residual anger she might feel—once Reb had “had his way with her,” as he put it.
“You’re beautiful, Sage,” Eugenia sighed. “If only Reb could see you now.”
Sage laughed and shook her head. “If Reb could see me now—or any other man for that matter—I think I’d drop dead in my tracks.” Still, Sage giggled again as she looked in the mirror.
“Now,” Rose said, taking Sage’s hand, “up on the table with you, Sage. Let’s work on your high kick.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Miss Rosie,” Sage said, shaking her head. “You talked me into puttin’ this silly costume on…but you’re not gonna push me any further than that.”
“Oh, please, Sage!” Livie whined. “Just do a little dancing for us. I mean…Rosie has nice bloomers, but I’ve never seen a real dancehall girl dance before. Just a little…just for me?”
Sage smiled and shook her head. How could she refuse her friends? The little imps were too delightful—too happy and full of life. She admired them for the lives they had lived, for the hardships they had endured, and for the joy and mischief that still bubbled in them. And besides, though it was late Friday afternoon, Reb wasn’t due to meet with Miss Rose for two hours yet, and certainly no one else was expected at Willows’s.
“Well…well, all right,” Sage agreed. “But only if you promise to draw all the drapes in the dinin’ room. The kitchen table won’t hold my weight.”
Rose squealed with delight, as did Livie and Eugenia. Mary simply chuckled, her wrinkled face softening into a broad smile.
“Good gravy!” Sage laughed. “You all act like you’re five years old.”
“I just want to see my dress dance again,” Rose said, leading Sage to the dining room. “And it wouldn’t hurt ya to liven up a bit, Sage. You spend entirely too much time bein’ serious.”
“Draw them tight,” Sage instructed as Eugenia and Mary drew the dining room drapes to ensure privacy. “I swear…if anyone catches me doin’ this…”
“Oh, just hush up, Sage, and enjoy the fun,” Mary said. Sage glanced to Mary for a moment, astonished at the woman’s demand.
“Up on the table now, Sage,” Rose instructed. “Now you’ve seen me do this before.” Rose began prancing about and clapping her hands. Sage shook her head and stepped up onto a chair and then onto the table.
“Oh, this is silly,” she giggled.
“A little silliness eases the heart by a mile,” Eugenia added.
“And besides…you look beautiful!” Livie sighed, dreamily clasping her hands at her bosom.
“There’s a pretty pink rose in South Carolina, he’s marchin’ home to wed!” Rose began to sing. “Daa la la laa la la laaa…” she continued, increasing the tempo as the other ladies began to clap in unison with her. “Come on now, Sage!” Rose exclaimed. “Kick up your heels a bit! And swish your skirts…like this!” Rose took hold of the front of her dress, hiking it up to her knees and swishing it this way and that in time with the clapping. Sage shook her head, smiled, and imitated her friend. “Now…add some prancin’. Just like a pony! That’s it!” Rose giggled. “Perfect!”
“Daa la la laa la la laaa…la la la laa la laaa!” Rose sang as the others continued to clap.
“Yer a natural, Sage,” Mary laughed, her face beaming with delight. “I guess ya shoulda taken up life as a dancehall girl…’stead of a boardin’ house marm.”
Sage giggled and continued to dance on the table. She was careful, not wanting to scratch up the table’s surface. But the dress, the stockings, the dancing—all of it did free her somehow. Dressed as she was, her hair done up so fancy and feminine, somehow she felt liberated—enlightened—as if she could be happy always.
Sage smiled, pleased at the perfectly mirth-filled expressions of her friends. Even if the situation hadn’t been as fun as it was proving to be, all of it would be worth the now resplendent joy on each woman’s beloved face.
Turning her back to the ladies then, Sage wiggled her hind end the way she’d seen Miss Rose do so many times after winning a hand of rummy. Each woman erupted into giggles and laughter, and Sage laughed too. Sage laughed wholeheartedly—until she turned back around to see Reb standing in the back of the room. A broad smile spread across his handsome face as his eyebrows arched in an expression of astonishment.
Instantly, Sage ceased in her dance, gasping as her hand flew to cover her mouth. She felt the hot crimson of the deepest sort of blush rise to her cheeks—cover her entire body.
Seeing Sage’s horrified expression, the widows of Willows’s Boarding House ceased their clapping and turned to follow Sage’s gaze.
“Well, hello there, Reb!” Rose greeted. “Sage was just entertainin’ us a bit this afternoon.” Sage was rendered frozen with embarrassment—mortified at being found in such a state by Reb Mitchell! “Doesn’t she make a perfect dancehall girl?”
Reb’s smile broadened as he nodded and said, “Ain’t seen nothin’ the like of it ’cept in my imagination.”
“Don’t stop now, Sage,” Mary urged. “Ya got a real audience. Might as well give him an eyeful.”
But Sage knew Reb had already had an eyeful, and she was close to tears because of it.
“I take it then, Miss Sage,” Reb said as he strode toward the table, “that Miss Rosie forgot to tell ya somethin’.”
As he walked toward her, Sage instinctively put out a hand in a gesture he should come no closer. “Stay…stay right there, Reb,” she stammered. “I…I…”
“I plum forgot, Sage,” Rose said, then looking to her friend. The old woman’s eyes twinkled with deep mischief. “I-I can’t go with Reb this afternoon. Remember? Reb was due to make good on his bet with me and give me an evenin’ of waltzin’ and kissin’…but I-I made other plans, so I told him you and I wouldn’t mind switchin’. I’ll go with Reb tomorrow, and you can go with him now.”
“That should work out just fine, Sage,” Livie said. Sage noticed Livie’s eyes also twinkled naughtily. “Then you can help me with my baking tomorrow while Rosie is gone.”
Sage shook her head, horrified as Reb stepped up to stand just before her. He began at the tip of her boot—studied her—his gaze traveling the entire length of her as he chuckled.
“You definitely weren’t expectin’ to see me, were ya?” he said. Oh, he was handsome! Sage held her breath for a moment, temporarily stunned by both his good looks and her compromising situation.
“You haven’t got anythin’ planned, Sage, I’m sure,” Eugenia said. “So why don’t you just run up and change and have a nice time with Reb tonight?”
“I-I…” Sage stammered. She gasped as Reb reached out and took hold of one of her ankles. Quickly he reached up, grasping her wrist, and placed her over his shoulder.
“Oh, don’t ya bother with changin’, Sage,” Reb said as he turned, Sage thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “I’m more’n happy to take ya just the way ya are. This is sure to be the best night of my life!” Again he laughed as he carried Sage toward the back door.
“Put me down!” Sage exclaimed, beating on Reb’s back with her fists and attempting to kick her legs in an effort to escape. “I can’t be seen like this!” But Reb locked one powerful arm at her knees and continued to make for the door.
“Oh, but ya have been seen, Sage Willows,” Reb chuckled. “So what’s the use of changin’ yer clothes now?”
Sage looked
up to where her four supposed friends stood watching her being carried away. They donned the playful smiles of imps—even Mary—and Sage knew she’d been tricked.
“How could you?” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. “How could you all do this to—”
“Life shouldn’t be all tatters and tears, Sage. Ya need to have some fun,” Mary told her as the old woman’s expression changed to that of earnestness. “And ya have it now, ya hear?”
“Oh, she’ll have fun all right, Miss Mary,” Reb said, kicking open the back door. “I promise ya that.”
Reb closed the door behind them as he stepped out of the house. Craning her neck, Sage watched as he strode toward his wagon.
“Please, Reb!” Sage pleaded. “If anybody sees me…”
“No one will see ya, Sage,” he told her. “Just me.” Then she heard him laugh—felt the deep rumble of his chuckle as he said, “I ain’t never had my way with a dancehall gal before. Should be mighty interestin’.”
“Reb! Please!” she pleaded, but he lifted her off his strong shoulder, setting her down none too easily in the wagon bed. Instantly Sage tried to stand, intent on escape. But Reb took hold of her arm and pulled her to him. Her face was only a few inches away from his, and she could sense the scent of him, all leather and horsehair, bacon and saddle oil.
“I swear yer comin’ with me now, Sage. One way or the other,” he said in a low, somewhat provocative voice. His eyes sizzled with mischief. “I’ll hogtie ya if I have to.”
“But I can’t be seen like—” Sage began.
“Nobody’s gonna see ya, Sage. Ain’t nobody along the way to the ranch,” he told her. “Nobody but me. I’m takin’ ya home for supper…which I’m cookin’ up my very own self,” he proudly added. “The hands are all out with the cattle, even Charlie…and there’ll be nobody to see ya but me.” Sage tried to climb out of the wagon, but Reb’s strong arms stopped her. “I will tie ya up, Sage,” he repeated. “I ain’t missin’ this chance for the world.” He smiled, winked at her, and asked, “So…what’ll it be? Ya wanna ride in the wagon nice and easy? Or do ya want me to tie ya up first?”
The tone of his voice—the smoldering warmth of his eyes—combined to mesmerize her, and Sage was momentarily bewitched into silence. Slowly the embarrassment and fear began to leave her, replaced by an enchanting thrill and delighted anticipation.
“I’ll go easy,” she managed to answer. For in truth, she wanted nothing more than to go with him—to be with him—to capture his attention as it appeared she had. Sage had the odd sensation she would be grateful to the widows for their tomfoolery one day.
Reb smiled and nodded. “Good,” he said. “Now hunker down in the wagon ’til we’re a ways out of town. Then ya can hop up on the seat with me.”
Sage nodded and sat down in the wagon. Clasping her hands together, she tried to calm their nervous trembling. Reb jumped up on the wagon seat and slapped the lines at the team’s backs.
“When ya lost that last hand of rummy the other night,” he said to her over his shoulder as the wagon lurched forward, “well…I knew I’d been lucky. Don’t think I realized just how lucky…’til I walked into yer dinin’ room just now though.”
Sage shook her head, amazed at her gullibility where the widows were concerned, feeling guilty about how delighted she had been when she had first seen her reflection in the mirror while wearing Rose’s dress. Heaven had a way of making people pay for mistakes, and Sage was certain she would surely pay for letting her guard down. Yes, she was sure she would pay for enjoying a moment of liberation and happiness. But looking at Reb—her heart fluttering once more at the sight of him—she wondered if paying for a mistake might be rather delightsome this time.
“Reb…you…you won’t mention this to anyone, will ya?” she ventured, still certain she wanted her silly situation to be kept to Reb’s knowledge and only his.
He glanced over his shoulder, smiled at her, and said, “I ain’t the kind of man to share my winnin’s, Sage. Yer secret life as a dancehall girl is perfectly safe with me.”
Sage couldn’t help but smile. His teasing manner was so charming. Still, she closed her eyes as she thought on her reflection in the mirror only a short time before. She was scandalously clad! She drew her knees up to rest her chin on them—folding her arms against her black-stockinged calves. She tugged at the loose and ruffled capped sleeves, endeavoring to affix them somehow to her shoulders. How utterly shocking she must appear! She thought of unpinning her hair—of pulling it back into a knot or at least a braid—but the damage had been done. Reb had seen her already. What good could come of the ridiculous notion of changing her hair? There was nothing to be done. She would muster the courage to pretend she was dressed in her usual day dress—to imagine she wasn’t any different in appearance than she normally was.
Sage sat silent, her emotions tossed back and forth between humiliation and delighted anticipation—waiting until the team had drawn the wagon out of town and to a more secluded venue. She blushed when she heard Reb chuckle to himself.
“Them ladies are downright naughty,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t own some sympathy for ya, Sage,” he added. “But with their mischief makin’ things so good for me…how can I do anythin’ but thank ’em?”
Reb shook his head, still astonished at the situation. By rights, Sage ought to turn the widows out into the street for such a trick. But who couldn’t love them all the more for their mischief? And Reb was glad for it! He’d never forget the way his pulse had quickened—how good his smile felt as it spread across his face when he’d walked into Willows’s Boarding House and seen Sage dancing on the table. He had always suspected she had it in her—a free side—a fun side—a side to her she kept hidden deep. And she was beautiful! Not merely because she’d been dressed all in lace and ribbons, pretty legs showing all the way up to her knees—no! It was the sense of unguarded freedom about her—the sense of rebellion and the moment of casting caution to the wind.
True enough, he’d wanted to pull her off the table, take her in his arms, and truly make good on collecting his winnings. But it was the carefree, happy expression on her face that attracted him most in those first moments. Oh, certainly the sight of her bloomers had been an additional benefit—but in truth it was the joy of her countenance he would always remember.
Still, Reb knew he would have to be careful. Sage was a tempting little piecrust, and he’d savored the taste of her before. Furthermore, even though he had explained to her on several occasions since she’d lost their bet that he was only teasing about “having his way with her,” he would have to be careful. He’d have to watch himself—restrain passion if it threatened to spark between them. Rather, when it threatened to spark between them. And it would—for Reb already knew there would be no way he would let Sage escape without tasting her kiss again.
Sage felt herself blush as Reb laughed out loud once more. “Hop up on the seat with me, girl,” he demanded. “Ain’t nothin’ but cattle and coyotes to see ya now.”
Sage did as she was told, amazed at how spirited she was feeling. Settling into the seat next to Reb, she marveled at how one dress could so entirely change her disposition. The bareness of her arm brushed Reb’s shirtsleeve, and instantly her skin prickled with the delightful sensation of a million goose bumps breaking over her.
“Now do tell me, Miss Sage Willows, proprietress of Willows’s Boarding House, how ever did those old women get ya into that getup?”
Sage blushed and shook her head. She smiled, capable of seeing the humor of it all even more clearly. She thought back on the hours prior to Reb finding her dressed like a dancehall girl, prancing about on her own dining room table. She could clearly see the plot then, the four old widows’ mischievous scheme taking form.
She sighed heavily and said, “They thought I needed some…some teasin’, I suppose. They do get tired of everyday life and lonely at times.” Sage felt a pang of compassion pinch her heart at the thought of her
dear old friends and the lovers they had each buried in the earth. “Miss Rosie said she’d been rummagin’ around in some old trunks and found this dress…that it looked to fit me perfectly. Then somehow…they all coaxed me into puttin’ it on.”
“And that’s why I oughta be callin’ ya Gullible Gerty from now on?” Reb teased.
“It sure seems that way,” Sage said, trying to adjust one of her sleeves in an effort to somewhat cover her shoulder.
“Well, don’t go bein’ too awful hard on yerself, Sage,” he said. “I seem to be as easy to fool as the next cowpoke. Remember, I got me a waltzin’ date set with Miss Rosie myself.”
“Waltzin’ and a kiss!” Sage reminded him, giggling. Reb had been as easily tricked as she had—for she knew there was no doubt Miss Rose Applewhite would give Rebel Lee Mitchell an evening he’d not too soon forget.
“Oh, yes,” Reb said, smiling. “That kissin’ part is what has me a bit rattled. What kind of a kiss do suppose she’s gonna have in mind?”
Sage giggled, surprised that the notion of Reb’s kissing Miss Rose didn’t upset her somehow.
“Let’s see,” Sage said, smiling at Reb. “As I remember, she said she wanted ‘a long, lickery good-night kiss.’ Isn’t that the way she said it, Reb?”
Reb chuckled and shook his head, saying, “I believe that is exactly what she said.”
“Maybe this’ll teach you about the evils of gamblin’,” Sage told him. “After all, Reverend Tippetts is always preachin’ on the evils of it.”
“Reverend Tippetts ain’t never seen you dressed up like a dancehall girl,” Reb said, winking at Sage.
Sage smiled, flattered and delighted. The knowledge Reb found her attractive dressed as she was had begun to sink in, and it made her more comfortable about the entire affair.
“Reverend Tippetts has never had to kiss Miss Rosie either,” Sage reminded him. “She won’t let you get away without it, Reb,” she added. “Miss Rosie will have her kiss.” Sage laughed. Reaching out, she placed a hand on Reb’s cheek for a moment, needing to touch him—wanting to assure herself he was real and not just a dream. Touching him was too stimulating to her senses. The manner in which her palm seemed to tingle from the feel of him unnerved her greatly.
The Touch of Sage Page 14
