The Touch of Sage

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “And…and I promised Gareth Getcher I’d look over his money books this mornin’,” Mary added.

  “I thought I might make us some cookies. If that’s all right with you, Sage,” Eugenia added.

  Sage looked at the widows, suspicion thick in her mind. They seemed guilty somehow, quite guilty, as if they were up to no good.

  “Are you ladies up to somethin’?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “Whatever would give you that idea, Sage?” Rose asked, fiddling with the broach at her collar.

  Sage frowned for a moment then smiled and sighed. Let them have their secrets, she thought. They were probably up to no good at all. Just like the time they’d gotten mad at old Forest Simmons for proposing to Sage. They’d snuck into his house one day when he was out and sewed the flies and trapdoors shut on all his long underwear. Sage giggled at the memory. Still, it had been some time since they’d gotten into that much mischief. Best to let their silliness stay a secret. They enjoyed it more that way.

  Sage heard one of the cowboys whistle out in the street. Her thoughts immediately went to Reb. She too wished she could ride out to the ranch with the widows and watch this herd come in. But those days were behind her. She was the proprietress of Willows’s Boarding House. That’s what she was, and it was a far better life than some women knew.

  Still, as she lifted the bacon out of the frying pan with a fork, her mouth began to water. Not from anticipation of the tasty meat, but from the memory of Reb’s kiss the day his first herd had come in. She swallowed hard, trying in vain to push the memory from her mind.

  “Here you go, ladies,” she said, plopping a plate of bacon down in the middle of the kitchen table. “Breakfast is served.”

  

  “Walk on down to the general store with me, won’t ya, Sage?” Mary asked. Sage smiled, noting Mary had changed from her ratty nightgown into a pretty blue dress she usually reserved for church and social gatherings.

  “On your way to see Mr. Getcher, Mary?” Sage asked.

  “That man couldn’t add two and two if his life depended on it,” Mary grumbled. “I don’t know how he ever roped me into helpin’ with his books. I oughta be gettin’ paid for my time and trouble.”

  Sage smiled. She knew Mr. Getcher rather doted on Mary. Furthermore, no matter how much Mary moaned and grumbled, Sage knew Mary was very fond of Mr. Getcher. In her own aching heart, Sage hoped Mary’s “goin’ over the books” meetings with Mr. Getcher were secretly romantic rendezvous in disguise.

  Mary’s legs had been giving her more aches and pains than usual. Sage suspected the walk to the general store would be a little easier for Mary if she had a companion to link arms with.

  “I’d be glad to walk down with you, Miss Mary,” Sage said. “I could use a bit of fresh air myself.”

  It was a lovely day, warm and bright with sunshine. The slight summer breeze carried with it the comforting aroma of cattle and pasture grass. Sage sighed as she walked with Mary, pleased by the wildflowers growing along the side of the streets and between the buildings.

  “The paintbrush is fiery this summer,” Mary said. “And the columbine seems more vibrant than last year too.”

  “Yes,” Sage said. “It’s a lovely summer…makes me dread winter.”

  Before long, Sage had delivered Mary to Mr. Getcher. He’d offered the old woman his arm, and she’d smiled at him, slapping it away playfully. Sage smiled. Mary deserved a little attention. She’d lived a hard life—become a hard woman. She deserved a little romance in her life—however little it was.

  Stepping out of the general store, Sage surveyed the goings-on in town. Three little boys were tormenting a bull snake in the middle of the road, using a stick to move the reptile this way and that. Sage giggled when one of the boys paused, pulled a frog out of his pocket, and tossed it into a nearby watering trough.

  Forest Simmons was leaning against the outer wall of the dress shop across the street, nodding as he listened to something Winnery and Reverend Tippetts seemed to be discussing. Milly Michaels, Katie Bird, and Dotty Betten were nearby giggling and whispering to one another as they watched a young cowboy walk down the street.

  It was a good place to live, with good people. Sage sighed—glad for that at least. Glad she had a way to provide for herself—thankful she had the widows.

  “Well now…we meet again, at last.”

  Sage tried not to frown as she glanced to one side to see Ivy Dalton smiling at her. She carried a pink parasol that perfectly complemented her pretty pink dress. Her hair was lovely—her smile dazzling—her eyes spitting fire.

  “Good mornin’,” Sage greeted, forcing a friendly smile.

  “I’ve been hopin’ I’d run into you, Miss Sage Willows,” Ivy said.

  “Really?” Sage asked. She wanted nothing more than to run—run as fast as she could. Escape was her only hope as she felt tears welling in her eyes.

  “Why, of course,” Ivy said, still smiling. “After all, I’d like to know exactly what it was that happened between you and my Reb.”

  Sage frowned. She had no desire to talk to Ivy Dalton at all, let alone tell her anything about Reb. Yet a sort of hateful pride rose in her at the knowledge Ivy knew something had—whatever it was.

  “What do you mean?” Sage asked.

  “Well,” Ivy began, “and don’t get me wrong, I know there’s not a woman in this world who could outshine me in Reb Mitchell’s eyes, but to hear Charlie Dugger tell the story…it seems you gave it a good try.”

  Sage frowned. “Is that so?”

  “Well, to hear Charlie tell it, it is,” Ivy said. “Seems there’s somethin’ about it bein’ your fault Reb was hurt by that mountain lion. And I’m sorry…but that upsets me somethin’ terrible.”

  Sage felt her eyes narrow. What a “chili pepper in the maple syrup” the woman was! Sage knew Charlie would never say such a thing! Furthermore, she sensed Ivy was worried. She’d twisted the story of the mountain lion attack—and for what purpose?

  “Charlie told you about it, did he?” Sage asked. She’d play along with Ivy’s game. She was curious as to what the woman was up to.

  “Well, yes, he did,” Ivy answered. “And to be honest with you, Miss Willows…it is ‘Miss,’ isn’t it? I have heard you’ve never been married, even for your obvious experience and years.”

  Sage seethed with anger but did not let it show. What a vindictive woman! She wondered what Reb possibly saw in her! What he ever saw in her!

  “Yes, Miss Dalton,” Sage answered, emphasizing Ivy’s own lack of a husband, or at least current lack of a husband. “It is ‘Miss’ Willows.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ivy said. Her eyes narrowed, even though her sweet smile remained. “As I was sayin’, Charlie was tellin’ me all about how you rode out to the ranch one day, apparently to try and…well, how can I say this…apparently you intended to…to try and seduce my Reb.”

  “Is that so?” Sage asked. The woman was unbelievable!

  “That’s how Charlie tells it,” Ivy said. “He says the old mountain lion went after you, and Reb had to put himself in harm’s way to save you. Charlie says that’s how Reb got so torn up…that it was your fault. And, well…I was just wonderin’ what in the world would make you think Reb Mitchell would look twice at the likes of you?”

  Humiliation, shame, heartbreak, and anger ran through Sage’s veins as thick as gravy! Oh, she knew full well Charlie Dugger would never say such things about her. No doubt Charlie had told Ivy about the mountain lion attack, and Ivy had spun her spider’s web to create her own story in an effort to discourage Sage. Unfortunately, it had worked. Still, Sage wasn’t about to give Ivy the satisfaction of knowing it.

  “Why don’t you ask Reb?” Sage said, fairly trembling with anger and hurt. “In fact, why don’t you ask Reb what went on between us before we got back to the ranch that day?”

  “Why don’t you tell me yourself, Miss Willows?” Ivy asked, her sickeningly sweet smile fadin
g at last.

  “Well, I’d like to,” Sage began. “I really would. I’d like to tell you all about how Reb gambled with me over a game of cards. How he gambled to either whitewash my boardin’ house if he lost or to ‘have his way with me,’ as he put it, if he won. And he did win that day, Miss Dalton. He won and took me out to the ranch house. Unfortunately, the mountain lion arrived before he could…shall we say…collect his winnin’s.” Sage felt her bosom rising and falling with the labored breathing of fury and hurt. She’d lowered herself to Ivy’s level—to spiteful, hateful exaggeration. Yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself! She wanted Ivy to know—whether or not all the rumors were true, whether or not Reb had taken the woman back into his life, back into his arms. She wanted Ivy to know she’d tasted Reb’s kiss too, been the object of his attentions.

  “That’s a lie,” Ivy nearly growled. “I’ve been out to that ranch house. I’ve seen Reb’s blood stainin’ the floor…heard what you caused to happen to him.”

  “Believe what you want,” Sage said. “But I think you know I’m tellin’ the truth.”

  Ivy continued to glare at Sage. Sage continued to fight the need to cry—continued to try and drive the pain from her heart.

  Suddenly, the sound of approaching horses, coupled with Ivy’s exclamation of “Rebel!” drew Sage’s attention away from the villainess. Following Ivy’s startled gaze, Sage turned around to see three horses approaching at a mad gallop. A man unfamiliar to Sage rode the first horse. Reb sat the second, riding hard, obviously in pursuit of the first man.

  Charlie Dugger rode the third, shouting, “Reb! Reb! Don’t do it, Rebel!”

  As the riders and horses approached, Reb rode up next to the first man. Reaching out and taking hold of the reins of the man’s horse, Reb pulled his own horse and the man’s to an abrupt halt.

  Reb leapt from his saddle, reaching up and taking hold of the stranger’s shirt and pulling him from his horse to the ground.

  Charlie reined in, dismounted, and shouted, “Reb! Hold yer head there, boy!”

  Sage gasped, stunned as Reb clutched the man’s shirt in one hand, landing a powerful fist to the man’s face with the other.

  “You dirty son of a…” Reb growled a moment before his fist met with the man’s face again, knocking him to the ground. Only momentarily dazed, the man swiped his leg across the ground, knocking Reb’s feet out from under him. Reb stumbled backward, falling to the ground himself. Instantly, the stranger stood, kicking Reb square in the stomach. Sage screamed—heard Ivy scream as well—as Reb doubled over in pain. Still, he reached out, grabbed the man’s leg, and tripped him, sending him sprawling to the ground once more.

  Reb was at the man instantly, punching—smashing the man’s face into the dirt. He paused long enough to stand, pulling the stranger with him.

  “That’s enough, Reb! That’s it! That’s enough!” Charlie shouted, trying to take hold of Reb’s arm. Wrenching his arm free of Charlie’s grasp, Reb hit the man again, landing a fist to his ribs again and again and again.

  “I trusted you, Retch!” Reb growled as he punched the man again. “I paid you to drive them cattle, trusted you with my herd. But you got burned by the devil’s purty face, didn’t ya, boy?”

  Sage was astonished! She didn’t know what to do! She couldn’t believe the scene playing out before her eyes! Reb was a man gone mad with anger. Furthermore, he appeared so unkempt, as if he’d just gotten out of bed, hadn’t shaved in a week. She worried he was ill. She wanted to run to him, beg him to stop beating the man, and plead for him to love her. But the sound of Ivy’s voice stopped her from doing any of the things she thought.

  “Reb! Darlin’! Have you lost your mind?” Ivy cried.

  The sound of Ivy’s voice seemed to penetrate Reb’s anger—pull him from his mad attack on the stranger. Sage felt tears welling in her eyes as Reb looked up. He looked to Ivy, ceasing his assault on the man and striding toward her.

  “I told you, Ivy,” he growled, seeming unaware Sage stood before him as well. “Get on the next stage and get out of my sight!”

  Sage was confused—breathless—felt an ache begin in her head so painful it threatened unconsciousness. Had she heard him correctly? Had he just told Ivy to leave?

  “Now Reb, honey,” Ivy began, reaching out and brushing at the dust on his shirt. Reb pushed her hand away. She continued, “I’ve told you…if you’ll just take some time to think on things—”

  “You paid him?” Reb shouted. “You paid Retch Williams to send you a telegram and tell you where I was?” The fury on Reb’s face was frightening. Sage had never seen such anger in a man—such barely restrained aggression. “I told you we were through, Ivy. I told you that over and over. Did you think your showin’ up here would change my mind?”

  “Now, Reb…you settle down a piece,” Sheriff Lambson said as he approached from across the street. “Settle yerself down, you hear?”

  “Reb,” Ivy said. Dropping her parasol she reached out with both hands, clutching at Reb’s shirt. “Reb! We belong together! I’ve loved you ever since I can remember! Ever since I started walkin’ on this earth I’ve loved you.”

  “You don’t love me, Ivy,” Reb growled. “You love the idea of lovin’ me.” Reb looked to Sage then, his eyes smoldering with anger. Sage was trembling. Every inch of her body trembled with fear, hurt, even desire as he looked at her. She wanted to reach out and touch him, throw herself against him and beg him to love her.

  Reb continued to stare at Sage, even though he spoke to Ivy. “Still, I’ll give you this, Ivy Dalton,” he said. “You didn’t give up easy.”

  Sage felt the tears brimming in her eyes. Did he mean to say she did? Was he implying she should’ve chased after him the way Ivy obviously had? In truth, if she’d had an ounce of hope that it would’ve worked, she would have.

  “Simmer down, Reb,” Sheriff Lambson said, walking up behind Reb and placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t you touch me!” Reb shouted. Turning around he shoved the sheriff hard, sending him tumbling backward to sit soundly on the ground.

  Reb turned and faced Sage. He was infuriated! His eyes burned with anger and frustration. Sage leaned back, intimidated by his countenance.

  “And you,” he growled at her. “You’re as coldhearted as she is, ain’t ya? Unforgivin’ as the devil.”

  Suddenly, Reb reached out, taking Sage’s face firmly between his hands. His lips crushed her own—driven, hot, angry! He kissed her with a violent passion, willing her to meet his fevered attack on her tender mouth. His kiss was powerful, moist, unrelenting. The kiss exchanged between them was brief, but frenzied! And it was an exchange—for Sage had longed for his touch, and she accepted his angry kiss, returning it as best she could, considering the aggression with which it was applied.

  “Reb!” Charlie shouted then. “Rebel!”

  The sheriff had gotten to his feet, and he and Charlie pulled Rebel away. Sage gasped as Mary suddenly stepped in front of her and dumped a bucket of water over Reb’s head.

  “You cool off, boy!” she scolded. “You cool off now, ya hear me?”

  Reb stood dripping wet—his broad chest rising and falling with the labored breathing of residual anger.

  “A night in jail oughta cool him off a bit,” Sheriff Lambson said.

  Charlie held Reb by the shoulders as the Sheriff pulled his hands behind his back and bound his wrists to keep him from fighting any further.

  Reb looked to Sage—then to Ivy—then back to Sage. “Two peas in a pod,” he grumbled. “That’s what the two of you are. Just two peas in a pod.”

  “Come on now, Reb,” Sheriff Lambson said. “Cool off now.”

  “He’s just out of his mind with bein’ angry, Miss Sage,” Charlie said. “He don’t mean nothin’ by any of that.”

  “Help me out here, will ya, Charlie?” Sheriff Lambson said, struggling to push Reb across the street toward the jailhouse.

  “I can walk on my own!�
� Reb growled, wrenching his arm free of the sheriff’s grasp.

  Sage stood watching the sheriff and Charlie urge Reb toward the jailhouse. Her entire being trembled; her body burned with confusion and heartache. She put a hand to her mouth, covering her tender lips, still able to sense Reb’s delicious kiss. She felt a sharp pain in her bosom as his hurtful words echoed in her mind. Two peas in a pod. That’s what the two of you are, he’d said.

  Sage looked to the stranger, still struggling to catch his breath as he stood in the street. His face was bleeding—he was breathless. She recognized him then as one of the cowboys who had ridden in with the first herd Charlie had driven to the ranch for Reb.

  Realization washed over her. Reb hadn’t wanted Ivy. Ivy had wanted Reb—sought him out—and bribed the cowboy to send her a telegram telling her where Reb was. Reb had been as surprised to see Ivy as Sage had been that day at the boarding house. But why then had he let everyone believe he wanted her? What was the real reason he had arrived at the boarding house that day?

  Sage buried her face in her hands for a moment, fighting to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes. She should’ve gone to him! She should’ve ridden out to the ranch to see him after the attack. If she had, perhaps—perhaps…

  And if he loathed her so completely, if he thought she was the shallow, heartless woman Ivy was—why then had he kissed her just now? Why had she sensed a wanton desire in him like nothing she’d imagined?

  “He never kissed me like that,” Ivy said. Sage looked over at Ivy, loathing the very sight of her.

  “What?” Sage asked, still trying to absorb what had happened.

  “Never,” Ivy repeated, her expression that of complete astonishment. “He never kissed me like that. Not even…not even when he planned to marry me.”

  “You all right, Sage?” Reverend Tippetts asked as he approached.

  “I’m fine, Reverend,” Sage stammered. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “Seems to me Reb Mitchell’s got himself in a bit of a bind,” Reverend Tippetts said.