The Touch of Sage

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “I’ve let out the empty room, Sage!” Rose exclaimed. “Just this mornin’ while you were gone. I’ve let out the empty room! And to a young lady too. You know how we always worried that some filthy old man would want to let it? Well, I’ve let it out to a nice young lady. Now, she won’t be here long. I guess she’s in town just a short while until she’s married. Says her intended is close by or some such thing. Still, I’ve let out the room, and that should help cheer things up a bit. Right?”

  Sage stood, eyes wide with astonishment, attempting to navigate Rose’s babble. Rose had helped Sage so many times throughout the years since her parents’ deaths. In fact, it had been Rose who found Mary and Olivia, finally convincing them to let rooms at Willows’s. Sage trusted Rose, and yet she gave pause, not entirely happy about a stranger infringing on the intimate, happy life she shared with the widows.

  Still, life hadn’t been as happy of late. Sage knew she could never be happy without Reb. But hope was rekindled in her, and she smiled at Rose. Perhaps a new tenant wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Well, that’s wonderful, Miss Rosie,” Sage exclaimed rather feigning delight—still distracted by her conversation with Dugger and the prospect of seeing Reb. “Is she here now?”

  “Oh, yes!” Rose exclaimed. “Come and meet her! I know you’ll just adore her. She’s just the sweetest little thing.” Taking hold of Sage’s hand, Rose began leading her toward the parlor. Sage reached up, smoothing her hair with her free hand. She was anxious about meeting the new tenant at Willows’s Boarding House. Yet she couldn’t fathom why—until the moment she stepped into the parlor to see a young woman, golden-haired and beautiful as a sunrise.

  “Sage,” Rose began, “This is Ivy…our new resident.”

  “Oh, I’m so pleased to meet you, Miss Willows,” the young beauty greeted. With a smile sparkling like sunshine, the young woman reached out, clasping Sage’s hand in her own.

  “I-Ivy?” Sage stammered in a whisper. Surely the young woman’s name wasn’t Ivy. Surely she didn’t share the same name as the woman from Reb’s past, Ivy Dalton?

  “Yes,” the lovely young woman answered. “Ivy Dalton. And I am just tickled pink to have found such a charmin’ place to stay while I’m here! Your boardin’ house is simply the sweetest little place I’ve ever seen!”

  Sage couldn’t breathe. She was certain she would faint, or simply drop and die where she stood.

  “Ivy Dalton?” Sage repeated.

  “Yes,” Ivy said, frowning just a bit. No doubt she was puzzled by Sage’s reaction.

  “You all right, Sage honey?” Rose asked. “You look as white as a—”

  “Ivy Dalton,” Eugenia interrupted, entering by way of the front door. “What’re you doin’ here?”

  Ivy turned around, and Sage fancied the pink faded from her cheeks slightly as she said, “Eugenia?”

  “I asked you a question,” Eugenia nearly growled. “What do you think you’re doin’ here?”

  “Eugenia!” Rose exclaimed. “Why, you’re bein’ positively rude! What’s the matter with you? This is our new resident here at Willows’s, Ivy Dalton, and she’s just come in from—”

  “From hell, I’m guessin’,” Eugenia said.

  “Eugenia!” Rose exclaimed.

  “There’s no reason for discourtesy, Eugenia,” Ivy began. “However, if you happen to be livin’ here…well, then I’ll just find other accommodations elsewhere.”

  “You certainly will!” Eugenia confirmed.

  “Eugenia!” Rose exclaimed again.

  Sage still stood too stunned to react. Ivy Dalton—Sage’s greatest fear—stood there before her in her own parlor. Sage was sick to her stomach—thought she might vomit because of it. How could it be? She was so beautiful! All dressed in lavender and lace—long blonde curls cascading from her perfectly coifed hair.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Applewhite,” Ivy said, taking Rose’s hand in her own. “But I’m afraid I didn’t know what type of people, other than yourself of course, are stayin’ at this establishment. I’m afraid I simply can’t lower myself to—”

  “Get out!” Eugenia demanded then. “Don’t you ever set foot near this house again!”

  “You might be thinkin’ on changin’ your manners pretty quick, Eugenia,” Ivy said. “You wouldn’t want any family rifts considerin’ things are about to—”

  A knock on the front door interrupted Ivy’s scolding of Eugenia. As Eugenia and Ivy continued to glare at one another, Rose looked to Sage. Sage could only shrug her shoulders, uncertain as to what to do. She felt paralyzed with fear, doubt, and every other negative emotion.

  “Well, I suppose since I’m the only one with my head still on straight…” Rose mumbled as she started for the door.

  “I…I’ll go, Miss Rosie,” Sage choked, quickly brushing past her. She had no desire to look at Ivy Dalton for one more moment. Any visitor would be a welcome distraction. Sage found herself hoping it was Forest Simmons. Even he was preferable to the woman who might still own Reb’s heart, or at least his memory.

  Sage opened the door. She gasped as she looked up to see Reb standing before her.

  He removed his hat, nodded at her, and said, “Hello, Sage.”

  “Reb,” Sage managed to breathe. In that moment, she was certain she heard her own heart break. No doubt she felt it—for the pain in her bosom was at once excruciating. He’d come for Ivy. Sage had known something had changed between her and Reb. The mountain lion attack had somehow changed his feelings toward her, and though she didn’t understand why—he’d changed his mind about her—about even being her friend. Somehow he’d reconciled with Ivy. That was the only explanation for Ivy’s presence, the only explanation for Reb’s.

  “Sage…I…I…” he stammered. He was uncharacteristically lacking in confidence. Sage knew why, glad he at least owned a little guilt for breaking her heart, though the knowledge did nothing to ease her pain.

  “I know why you’ve come,” she interrupted.

  “You do?” he asked. He sighed, a slight grin relaxing the harsh expression on his face. “Sage, I’m sorry. I’ve been…I’ve been afraid to—”

  “Reb?” Ivy exclaimed, suddenly appearing at Sage’s side. “Rebel, darlin’!” Sage watched as the young beauty threw her arms around Reb’s neck. Jealous fury washed over her like molten iron! Hurt, anger, fear all worked to paralyze her where she stood.

  “Ivy?” he exclaimed. He looked to Ivy, an expression of utter astonishment on his features. He looked to Sage, frowning, and then back to Ivy.

  “Yes, darlin’!” Ivy exclaimed, still embracing Reb. “I came the moment I got the telegram!”

  “Telegram?” Reb asked.

  “You could’ve warned us, Reb,” Eugenia said, coming to stand in the doorway as well.

  “Warned ya?” Reb asked.

  Eugenia stepped forward, dropping a large carpetbag on the porch. “We’ll have anythin’ else you might have brought with you sent over to the roomin’ house at the other end of town. It’s a more appropriate place for the likes of Ivy Dalton.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Reb asked.

  “Oh, don’t mind them, Reb,” Ivy said, linking her arm through his. Sage studied Reb. He seemed almost as surprised to see Ivy as she was. As he stood frowning at her, Sage wondered if she should say something to him—smile at him—offer some sort of gesture indicating her joy at seeing him. Yet he said nothing to her—only continued to glare at her in a manner unnerving her all together. “Don’t mind them at all,” Ivy continued. “I heard this was nothin’ but a boardin’ house for widows and spinsters. Still, it looked so much nicer than the place down the road that I thought—”

  “Hush up, Ivy!” Eugenia demanded. “Rebel,” she said then. “Do you have somethin’ to say to Ivy?”

  Reb looked to Ivy—then back to his aunt—and then to Sage. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he asked Sage, “Do I?”

  Sage inhaled deeply. He had seemed
so surprised to see Ivy. But was he surprised to see her or just surprised to see her at the boarding house? He made no move toward Sage. Not one. He did not reach out to touch her in any way. He didn’t even smile at her. All he did was repeat, “Do I have somethin’ to say to Ivy?”

  “I-I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Sage stammered.

  “Sage!” Eugenia exclaimed.

  Reb felt his heart go cold. Like a heavy, frozen stone it settled hard in his chest. For a moment he felt empty—void of every emotion. He looked to Sage—beautiful, soft, wonderful Sage. Sage—whom he’d come to apologize to. He’d found his courage and come to town to apologize for failing her—to apologize for the injuries inflicted on her tender, beautiful body by the old mountain lion. He’d failed her, and in failing her she’d obviously seen his weakness. Still he’d hoped he could win her back—push thoughts of Charlie or any other man from her mind. He’d worked hard to convince himself that what he’d seen between her and Charlie outside the boarding house a short time before was simply a misunderstanding on his part. He’d managed to convince himself Sage wasn’t like Ivy—that she and Charlie were only friends—just like he and Charlie were friends. But from the look of indifference on her face as she stood before him, he realized he’d been wrong.

  He’d been so afraid to face her, afraid his weakness would cause her to see what a worthless piece of flesh he was. He’d hoped she would forgive him, wrap her lovely arms around his neck, press her soft body to him, kiss him the way she had in the pastures on the way to the ranch that day, and whisper forgiveness into his ear. He’d hoped she would understand he had simply not known the cat was lurking in the old barn—simply not been prepared even though he should have been. He’d dreamt of her forgiveness, her smile—her sweet delicious kiss. Yet standing before her now, he could see she did not trust him. She did not find him attractive—could not forgive him for what had happened to her. Otherwise, she surely would not have let Ivy overtake him the way she had. Perhaps she had already settled on giving her heart over to someone else—someone more capable—someone like Charlie. The thought wounded him deeply. What was it about him that caused women to feel unsatisfied, go looking elsewhere for something more?

  He glanced at Ivy then. Ivy? Why was she there next to him? How had she arrived? Why had she come? Reb studied her stunning eyes, her lovely, poisonous smile. When he’d left to ranch for his aunt, Ivy had sworn she would follow him anywhere, search for him to the ends of the earth, and never let him go. It looked as if she were capable of making good on some promises—just not the ones that mattered most. He looked at her and felt nothing. Not even hate or resentment. Rather, the only emotion he could detect she stirred in him was indifference to her existence.

  As he looked at Ivy, Reb felt his heart harden further—felt colder within than he’d ever felt before. Oh, Ivy Dalton had trodden on him, angered him, hurt his pride, and wounded his soul. There was no doubt of it. But it was Sage Willows who had crushed, abused, and broken his heart—torn his spirit into shreds and tattered remnants.

  He looked back to Sage, still standing in the doorway looking at him—not a tear in her beautiful eyes. She no more wanted him than she did old Forest Simmons. Yes, it was Sage Willows who had finally ruined Rebel Lee Mitchell—just as he’d feared she would from the moment he’d first seen her.

  The pain throbbing in his chest almost took his breath away. Reb wished it would—wished he could lose consciousness and be free of the misery stretching out before him. But he did not lose consciousness. Sage had spurned him. She did not want him. And if Sage Willows did not want him, then he wanted nothing. Nothing. Life held nothing for him without her.

  “All right then,” Reb said, reaching down and picking up Ivy’s carpetbag.

  “Sage!” Eugenia whispered, taking hold of Sage’s arm. “Do somethin’!”

  “I’m…I’m sorry for the misunderstandin’, Miss Dalton,” Sage said.

  “It’s of no consequence, Miss Willows. How were you to know Eugenia Smarthing and I had crossed paths before?” Ivy said, tightening her hold on Reb’s arm.

  “Rebel…don’t you dare walk away like this,” Eugenia warned.

  “I’m just takin’ Ivy over to the roomin’ house outside town, Auntie,” Reb said. “Miss Rosie,” he said, returning his hat to his head and nodding at Rose. “Miss Willows,” he said then, glaring at Sage. He turned and left, Ivy clinging to his arm. They walked across the porch, down the steps, and into the road.

  Sage watched him go—paralyzed with pain, heartache, disbelief, and confusion. She couldn’t move—couldn’t speak—couldn’t cry out to him that she loved him.

  “For cryin’ in the bucket, Sage!” Eugenia exclaimed. “Run after him! What is wrong with you?”

  “Ask him,” Sage breathed as tears filled her eyes.

  “What on earth is goin’ on?” Rose demanded, stomping a foot like an angry child.

  “Sage!” Eugenia exclaimed again.

  Sage turned, running through the house and out the back kitchen door. She didn’t go to the barn to saddle Drifter; she simply ran—ran toward the clouds gathering in the distance and the loneliness of Ruthie’s pasture.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sage took the biscuits out of the oven. She opened the cupboard door and removed a jar of strawberry preserves. Taking the cloth off the top of the jar, she inhaled the sweet scent of sugar and strawberries. The bacon was nearly finished frying, and Mary was already sitting at the table wearing her ratty red nightgown.

  “I suppose Rose and Livie are prunin’ and primpin’. Can’t they smell the bacon?” Mary grumbled. “And where in tarnation is Eugenia? I ain’t waitin’ around all day for them to get down here. I’ll just have my breakfast alone.”

  Sage smiled. Mary was so cranky at times—especially before she’d had her breakfast.

  “There’s a herd comin’ through town,” Eugenia said, entering the kitchen. “Must be the new herd Reb’s bringin’ to the ranch.”

  At the mention of Reb’s name, Sage held her breath for a moment. As was the case every time she heard his name spoken, a sickening wave of heartache washed over her. Still, she tried to appear unaffected, and after a moment, she exhaled the painful breath.

  “Well, let’s get a look at ’em,” Mary said. The old woman rose from her seat at the table and left the boarding house by way of the front door.

  “What on earth are you doin’, Mary?” Sage heard Rose exclaim as she descended the stairs. “Do you want every man in town to see you in that raggedly ol’ thing you call a nightgown?”

  Sage held her breath once more as she heard the rumble of the approaching herd. She could hear the cowboys whistle as they drove the cattle—smell the dust the animals kicked up as they moved closer. The memory of the day Reb’s main herd went through town poured over her—the memory of how happy he’d been and the kiss he’d taken from her in the barn.

  Sage winced and held back her tears. It was too early in the day to run to Ruthie. She’d begun to accept she would have to go on, live some sort of life. She’d begun to try not to cry over Ruthie’s grave every day. So far she hadn’t been able to go through a day without doing so, but she had to try.

  Reb hadn’t been to the boarding house—not even to see his aunt—since that day more than a week before when he’d shown up to collect Ivy Dalton. Every moment of every day Sage longed for him—yearned to see him. Even if he had chosen Ivy—even though Sage had not been able to capture his attention beyond a flirtation—she loved him and longed for his presence.

  Yet she knew she must get used to not seeing him. She would have to accept he would never again wink at her, flirt with her, hold her in his arms, and kiss her. His smile would never be for her again. He’d never come to dinner and stay for a game of cards, placing ridiculous bets with the widows.

  Mr. Getcher had told Sage only the day before that Ivy Dalton was the talk of the town! Word was she was Rebel Mitchell’s intended and that they meant to be m
arried before the summer was through.

  Reverend Tippetts, however, having been to dinner that very night, said he knew of no such information from Reb. Scarlett was certain this Ivy Dalton woman had made up the entire story—though it was sure enough true Ivy was acquainted with Reb. He’d been seen with her in his company briefly several times over the past week.

  Winnery said very little on the subject, stating only, “That Ivy Dalton…she puts me in mind of a cowpoke I knew once…as wicked as the night is long.”

  “I’d rather have bacon and biscuits than watch a dusty bunch of cows wander down the street,” Livie said, entering the kitchen and sitting down at the table. “Wouldn’t you, Sage?”

  “I’m always in the mind for bacon,” Sage said, forcing a friendly smile.

  “There’s some good cattle in that herd,” Mary said as she entered the kitchen again.

  “Yes,” Eugenia agreed, sitting at the table across from Livie. “They’ll grow Reb’s herd nicely.”

  “Well, I for one think it’s high time we had some fun around here,” Rose said as she sat down. “Things have been too awful glum of late.”

  “How about some cards later?” Sage suggested, again forcing a smile. “After lunch. We can sit down for hours!” She turned back toward the stove as four sets of skeptical eyes lingered on her.

  So far, her friends had been very kind and understanding. Since the day Ivy had arrived and left the boarding house on Reb’s arm, not one of them had pressed her. Not one. Not even Eugenia. Sage was grateful to them for it. Her tears were close to spilling over often. One word from any of them would’ve caused the dam to break, and she wasn’t ready for that. Even though she’d begun to cry without the rain to hide her tears, Sage wasn’t ready to allow anyone to see her so overcome with weeping. Only Ruthie. She didn’t mind if Ruthie knew.

  “Cards sound perfect,” Rose said, at last. “But let’s do wait ’til after lunch. I…uh…I have some errands to run.”

  “Yes. Yes, let’s wait until after lunch,” Livie agreed. “I have some things that need tendin’ to as well.”