“Of course it wasn’t her fault,” Reb grumbled.
“Then you saddle up and ride back to the boardin’ house with me to see her,” Eugenia demanded. “You’re gonna break that girl’s heart, Reb…if you haven’t already.”
“I ain’t gonna break her heart,” Reb said. “She’s probably glad to be rid of me. What kind of a man would let her get tore up like that?” Eugenia sighed and shook her head as Reb rubbed at his temples with one hand. “I shoulda hunted that cat down, Aunt Eugenia,” he said. “I swear…I think my heart ’bout stopped when I seen it take her down. I see it every time I close my eyes…see that cat at her…see her bleedin’ all over the kitchen floor.”
Eugenia frowned, her own heart aching for Reb’s pain. She did not miss the way his hands had begun to tremble as he spoke of the cat attacking Sage. She knew he hadn’t feared a moment for his own well-being or life—but the sight of the cat nearly killing Sage had shaken him up something awful. Somehow he’d convinced himself it was his fault. He’d convinced himself Sage wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a man who would’ve allowed such a thing to happen to her.
“I put her in terrible danger just because I couldn’t keep my wits about me,” he continued. “You seen her that day, Auntie! She was so beautiful, so free somehow,” he said. “It’s a wonder I made it all the way back here without throwin’ her down in the grass and—”
“She was happier than I’ve ever seen her since I’ve known her, Reb,” Eugenia interrupted. “And it’s because she’s in love with you.” There! She’d said it. Come hellfire or angels, she’d said it!
But Reb shook his head—held up a hand in gesture she shouldn’t say it again.
“Now you know as well as I do, Aunt Eugenia…I ain’t got nothin’ to give a woman in that regard,” he said.
“Oh, horse manure and goose drizzle!” Eugenia exclaimed. “If you aren’t the dumbest post in the fence, Rebel Lee Mitchell, then I don’t know who is.” Reb straightened up, looked at Eugenia with an astonished expression. And well he should—for she was sick and tired of his whining. “Not once, Reb,” she began, “not once did I ever see you look at Ivy Dalton the way you look at Sage Willows. Not once! So don’t tell me you don’t love her, Reb. Don’t try to tell me you don’t!”
“I never said I didn’t!” Reb growled. “I said I ain’t got nothin’ to give her. I never said I didn’t want her. But I’m damaged, Aunt Eugenia. I don’t trust myself to be able to hold onto her heart. I don’t trust myself to hold her at all. And she sure as hell shouldn’t trust me! That cat nearly killed her, and it was my fault. Do ya really think she’s gonna want me now? Do ya think she’s gonna trust me after that? If I can’t even keep her safe from harm, what makes ya think she’s gonna trust me in any other regard? And if ya can’t trust a person…ya can’t love ’em. Believe me…if I know anythin’, I know that.”
“That’s nonsense, Reb!” Eugenia told him. “That mess with Ivy Dalton was a completely different bowl of beans, boy! And you know it! You trusted Ivy with your heart, and she stomped on it. She broke your trust, sure enough, she did. But I think it was your pride and your trust in yourself that got most damaged, Reb. Oh, your heart recovered all right. But your faith in yourself didn’t, and you’re afraid…afraid Sage will love you for only the reasons Ivy did—because you’re good to look at, handsome, and all the other girls want you. But you know darn well, that isn’t Sage. And Sage would no more hold you responsible for what happened with that cat than you would her!” Eugenia shook her head, wagging a scolding index finger at Reb and adding, “This is pure nonsense you’ve talked into your own head, Reb. I was willin’ to give you some time, due to that awful fever you took to and your wounds bein’ so bad. But you’ve had your time and now…so you get on your horse and you ride out to the boardin’ house to see Sage. Don’t you dare leave her to wonder what you’re thinkin’. Don’t you dare leave her talkin’ to that poor little dead girl out in the pasture and cryin’ her eyes out over you.”
“Ain’t been no rain,” Reb mumbled. “She ain’t been cryin’…especially over me.”
“You ride out to the boardin’ house, Reb,” Eugenia told him. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But you do it. I think you know Sage is in love with you. But fear…or somethin’ else I don’t know about…is tryin’ to convince you otherwise. Beat it down, Reb. If not for your own happiness…for hers.”
Reb watched his Aunt Eugenia ride away in the buggy. Reaching down, he scratched Bullet behind the ears, wincing at the pain caused when the dog landed its clumsy paws on the wounds at his thigh. Reb wondered for a moment, had Bullet been at the ranch house that day instead of out with Charlie and the herd, would the cat have been in the barn?
He turned around and headed back into the house. As always, his stomach rolled at the sight of the dark brownish-red stain on the kitchen floor. Charlie assured Reb over and over it was Reb’s own blood Eugenia hadn’t been able to scrub away, that Sage’s wounds were less severe—bled less. But to Reb’s eyes, it was Sage’s pain he saw each time he looked at the floor—each time he looked at himself in the mirror.
He closed his eyes and thought of the moment he’d walked into the boarding house to see Sage all gussied up in one of Miss Rose’s old dancing dresses. Sage’s smile had been mesmerizing! He’d never seen her so unguarded—so happy. He’d been sure then and there he would have her for his own. One way or the other, he had decided to own her. He envisioned stopping the wagon in the pasture on the way to the ranch—remembered how breathtaking it had felt to hold her in his arms—sighed at the memory of the way she’d succumbed to him and to her own desires.
He winced, remembering the way she’d stepped forward, taken his face in her soft hands, kissing him hard on the mouth. Even now, with Bullet licking his hand, the wounds at his chest and leg still aching—even now it was the thrill that had traveled through him when she’d kissed him that dominated his senses.
He wanted her in his arms! He wanted her in his house! He wanted her in his bed! He wanted her in his life!
Opening his eyes, Reb turned and beat his fist against the inner wall of the house. Beat it hard against the sturdy wood planking until his knuckles and fingers ached as badly as his other wounds.
Eugenia was right. Why was he comparing anything having to do with Sage Willows to anything having to do with Ivy Dalton? Surely Sage knew he hadn’t meant for the cat to attack her that day. He was a coward not to face her. Yet something in him whispered to him, asked him—did his fear truly originate with the fact Sage might not trust him? Or did it initiate from the idea she might lose interest in him the way Ivy had?
Either way, Reb knew to avoid facing her would surely mean the end to any chance he had at winning her heart. Therefore, the question remained—would he follow fear and cowardice, or could he conquer fear, find bravery, and perhaps win Sage? If he did, could he keep her? Or would she tire of him? Which was worse, to never try or to try and risk rejection? Surely it was worth whatever pain he might endure—even to own her for a time. Wasn’t it?
One week passed and then another, and still Sage had not seen Reb. She’d tried to give up hope. Each day as she visited Ruthie, nearly sobbing herself sick, Sage tried to rid herself of any hope he would come to her. So many times she’d saddled Drifter, determined to ride out to the ranch—seek him out—ask him why he had abandoned any interest he may have had in her. Each time, however, she ended up talking to Ruthie instead—fearful of what Reb might answer.
Sage’s poor, troubled mind imagined many reasons for Reb’s avoiding her. Again she mulled over the possible reasons—adding new possibilities to the already long list. The wounds at her back, for instance. Perhaps the scars left by the mountain lion’s attack were too gruesome. Perhaps, she mused, he simply did not want to be reminded of their ugliness. Still, she knew such shallow considerations were not in him.
And so, she reviewed the other
reasons already plaguing her mind. Perhaps he’d simply had a change of heart, found her too weak, too uninteresting to pursue any more. Perhaps—and it was her worst fear—perhaps he really had changed his mind about the infamous Ivy Dalton. In her most secret places of worry, Ivy Dalton, and her one-time hold over Reb’s heart and mind, was Sage’s greatest fear.
Still, whether repulsive scars, simple disinterest, or a love of the past—whichever the reasons—with each passing day it became more clear: Reb was not going to return to her. Her eyes longed to gaze at him; her mind longed to hear his voice. Her body and soul ached to be held in his arms, and her mouth watered for want of his kiss. Yet Sage knew—she began to admit—tried to accept she would have to return to life without him.
The life Sage had known before Reb Mitchell stretched out before her—tedious, uneventful, and dreary. Oh, certainly she loved the widows. Certainly the sun shone bright. But it would never be enough again. It hadn’t been anyway, but it certainly wouldn’t be enough now. Yet she tried to go on. What else was there to do but go on?
One day, having rubbed down Drifter after a ride to Ruthie’s pasture, Sage smiled as she saw Charlie Dugger walking toward her. Her thoughts were hopeless and grim, yes. But she saw no reason to pour anxiety over anyone else. So, as she walked toward the boarding house, she smiled as she saw Charlie approaching. It was Tuesday, after all, and the Reverend Tippetts, Scarlett, and Winnery were coming for supper. Of course, she knew Reb wouldn’t be there, but for a brief moment—when she saw Charlie smile and touch the brim of his hat—her heart leapt. Perhaps he would come! Perhaps Eugenia had somehow convinced Reb to join Charlie and come to supper.
Yet as Charlie approached, Sage felt the now familiar pang of heartache in her bosom. Reb would not come. Perhaps never again. And if he did, it would not be for her sake. He’d always come for his aunt’s sake in the first place. She realized that now.
“Hey, there, Miss Sage,” Charlie greeted.
“Hello, Charlie,” Sage said, forcing a friendly smile, hoping her eyes were no longer red from her sobbing and tears in Ruthie’s pasture.
“Um…I…um…I was wonderin’ if I might have a word with ya,” Charlie said.
“Of course,” Sage said. The last thing she wanted to do was talk with Reb’s best friend. She always felt as if Charlie were going to tell her something final about Reb—as if he would be the one to confirm Reb had no interest in her. Yet he was a kind man and her friend as well. He’d visited her often after the mountain lion attack and was always very kind and polite.
Charlie inhaled a deep breath. Taking Sage by the hand he led her to the side of the boarding house.
“You have to come out to the ranch, Miss Sage,” Charlie blurted. “Ya just have to come out there and straighten Reb out.”
For a moment, as always, Sage thought, Yes! I’ll go! I’ll go to him! But she shook her head.
“Charlie,” she began, “Please. If he doesn’t want me…I mean…if he doesn’t want to see me, then I can’t—”
“But he does, Miss Sage!” Charlie exclaimed. “He does! He’s just…he’s just feelin’ like he failed ya. He’s blamin’ himself for the big cat, you gettin’ hurt like ya did. He can’t get past it, Miss Sage.”
Sage leaned back against the boarding house wall. She shook her head and held onto her tears. Oh, how she wished it were that simple. How she wished all she had to do was convince Reb the cat’s attack wasn’t his fault. Maybe there was hope in that, if that was all it was. But Sage knew there was more. She felt it.
“He didn’t fail me, Charlie,” she whispered. “You know he didn’t. He’s just…he’s just a kind man…who…who flirted with me a little. He’s just been thinkin’ better of spendin’ so much time with me and—”
“Miss Sage,” Charlie repeated, taking both her hands in his as he pleaded with her. “Surely ya know him better than that. He blamin’ himself so hard for what happened to ya, for the damage that cat done ya. That’s all. That’s all it is. It ain’t nothin’ else.”
Reb’s eyes narrowed as he watched Charlie take Sage’s hands in his own. The man had been his friend for years! Years! But this was too much! How could Charlie pursue Sage knowing how Reb felt about her? He’d beat the life out of Charlie, that’s what he’d do!
Then Reb remembered he had never really confessed his feelings for Sage to Charlie. For all Charlie Dugger knew, Reb Mitchell was through with women. Hadn’t Reb told Charlie so himself? And on many, many occasions?
Still, he doubted it was all Charlie’s fault anyway. Reb knew how he felt in Sage’s presence, and it stood to reason any other man would be as captivated by her as he was. Still, for the first time in a long time, Ivy’s face was brilliant and clear in his mind.
Two weeks. It had taken him two weeks to find the courage to seek out Sage and ask her forgiveness. Two weeks and she’d already moved away from him and toward another man. He grimaced—squeezed his eyes tightly shut. It couldn’t be true. He could still taste the delicious flavor of her kiss—still sense the feel of her body in his arms. He could see the way her eyes lit up when he entered a room—the blush painting her cheeks whenever he flirted with her.
Turning from the scene before him, he dug deep into his soul—into his heart. He had to know. He had to know if she could forgive him for the mountain lion attack. She wasn’t like Ivy Dalton. He was certain of it. Sage would not toy with him and then quickly tire of him like he were a new puppy. She loved him, he was sure of it. Nearly sure of it, anyway. Hoped it was true at least.
He’d walk for a few minutes, gather his thoughts. He knew Charlie, and he knew Sage. There was no dalliance between them. He knew it. He had to know it. He had to! He’d fought his fear—wrestled with cowardice and ridden all the way to town. He’d almost turned back several times, it was true. Even now his hands trembled at the thought of facing her. Still, she lived—she breathed—she smiled. Surely she would forgive him.
He knew he wasn’t worthy of her—knew Charlie Dugger probably was. Yet he wanted her. He had to face her—he had to try and win her trust once more.
Yep. He’d walk for a while, tell himself Charlie was only being kind—inquiring about her well-being or some such nonsense. He’d walk a while, and then he’d face her. Surely she was only being kind to Charlie. That’s it. They were just friends talking.
He’d walk a while.
“Just ride out to the ranch and see him, Miss Sage,” Charlie pleaded. “Seein’ ya will make all the difference in the way he’s feelin’ both body and mind.”
“Charlie,” Sage said, “what’ll he think of me? If I go chasin’ out there after him, he’ll think I’m—”
“He’ll think ya care enough about him to do it. He’ll think ya forgive him for lettin’ the cat get to ya,” Charlie interrupted. “Surely ya know how much he cares for ya, Miss Sage.”
Every ounce of Sage’s being wanted to believe Charlie—wanted to believe Reb cared for her. She closed her eyes remembering the mischievous expression on his face the night he’d cornered her in the kitchen, shared peach-flavored kisses with her. She envisioned the alluring fire in his eyes when he’d stopped the wagon in the middle of the pasture on the way to the ranch, teasing her about “having his way” with her.
“I know yer afraid, Miss Sage,” Charlie said, smiling at her. “Reb can be a frightenin’ man.” Sage smiled, and Charlie chuckled. “But ya gotta come out to the ranch and let him know ya don’t blame him for what happened.”
Sage smiled at Charlie. Perhaps she could find the courage to go to Reb. Certainly propriety dictated he should come to her—that a woman never went chasing after a man. Yet what if what Charlie said were true? Could Rebel Lee Mitchell really be afraid of facing her?
“Let me…let me have some time to gather a little courage, Charlie,” Sage said. “I’ll try.”
Charlie smiled and nodded. “I know it’s hard, Miss Sage. Reb can be a mighty difficult man to read at times. But I believe ya know wh
at he’s thinkin’ where you’re concerned. He needs ya, Miss Sage. More’n even he knows.”
Sage smiled at Charlie again. He was a kind man and a good friend. She did feel more hopeful in talking with him. Maybe—just maybe she could find the courage to face Reb. Maybe he really did think she blamed him for what happened, no matter how ridiculous a notion it was.
“I’ve got to get in and get some supper on for the ladies and our guests,” Sage told him. “I’ll see you out at the ranch tomorrow…maybe.”
“Good deal,” Charlie said, smiling at Sage with approval. “I’ll be lookin’ for ya then.” He tipped his hat and added, “Bye now.”
“Bye,” Sage said, smiling as she watched him walk away. Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe it wasn’t her weakness that had kept Reb away. Maybe he hadn’t changed his mind about her. Maybe he really was feeling some sort of misplaced guilt over what had happened to them. Sage sighed, allowing hope to flicker in her bosom once more.
She paused at the barrel full of herbs by the boarding house back door, pinching off a sprig of sage and drawing it to her nose. At the anticipation of seeing Reb again, Sage felt lighthearted—excited and tingly. She closed her eyes and pictured his face, his eyes—his kiss.
Sighing, she pushed open the back door and entered the boarding house. Her hope was renewed. The widows had been telling her all along she needed to relieve the fever in Reb’s mind. Still, somehow having Charlie’s confirmation gave her the courage she needed to perhaps actually go to him. And oh, how she longed to see him again—to talk with him—touch him, kiss him!
“I’m back,” Sage called, setting the sage sprig down on the kitchen counter. “Anybody home?”
“Sage! There you are!” Rose said, entering the kitchen. Her face was pink with delight, her eyes wide as saucers.
“What is it, Miss Rosie?” Sage asked. She couldn’t help but smile at the woman. She looked so pleased with herself.
The Touch of Sage Page 17
