The Touch of Sage

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “Miss Eugenia, please!” she pleaded.

  “Hush now, Sage,” Eugenia said from beneath her bandana. “It’s for your own good!”

  “I’ll set in to screamin’,” Sage threatened.

  “And who’s gonna come for ya with the Reverend Tippetts at the lines?” Mary said. Her eyes burned with excitement above her bandita’s mask.

  “Now, just you settle in, Sage,” Rose said, tucking a stray strand of soft white hair behind one ear. Her eyes twinkled with mischief above her bandana. “We got it all planned out. Keep a hand on her, Mr. Winnery,” Rose added. “We don’t want her tryin’ to throw herself from the wagon or some such nonsense.”

  “Nonsense?” Sage nearly shrieked. “Nonsense? This entire situation is nonsense! I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

  Shaking her head, Rose reached down the front of her shirtwaist, producing another bandana. Quickly she folded the bandana into a triangle, then into a length.

  “I’m sorry, Sage,” Rose said, handing the folded bandana to Winnery. “But we just can’t have you causin’ such a fuss.”

  Sage gasped, wriggling like a worm on a hook attempting to avoid the inevitable as Winnery tied the bandana around her mouth.

  “Mind her hair!” Rose said, shaking her head with annoyance.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Winnery said, adjusting the bandana at Sage’s mouth. “Is that comfortable enough for ya, Miss Sage?” he asked.

  Sage’s eyes widened as she looked at him. What a ridiculous question! Of course it wasn’t comfortable! The entire situation was anything but comfortable!

  Sage closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply—trying to calm herself. She couldn’t believe what was happening! She couldn’t believe Reverend Tippetts was involved!

  “She’ll get a chill,” Eugenia said.

  Sage opened her eyes to see the three old banditas looking at her.

  “Winnery,” Mary instructed. “Get that old horse blanket…there,” she said pointing to a folded blanket in the bed of the wagon. “Put that around Sage’s shoulders, would ya?”

  “You will not, Winnery!” Rose argued. “You want us to deliver her smellin’ like a sweaty ol’ horse, Mary?”

  “Yer right,” Mary agreed, nodding at her friend. “Winnery, just take off yer shirt and put it around her shoulders then.”

  “Mary!” Rose exclaimed. “Then she’d smell like a man. We can’t give her over smellin’ like a man.”

  “Are ya cold, Sage?” Mary asked then.

  Sage shook her head. If anything she was hot—aflame with indignation, fear, and disbelief.

  “Leave her be then, I suppose,” Eugenia said.

  Sage frowned. It was so odd to hear their voices when she was unable to see their mouths moving. It all felt like a dream. And she wished so badly it was. Then she could giggle, break into uproarious laughter, and enjoy the amusement of the scene playing before her. She thought about how strange it would all look to any passersby—a clergyman driving a team pulling a wagon with one man, one tied-up saloon girl, and three white-haired banditas in the bed. It would be delightful—hilarious if it weren’t for the fact she was one of the players.

  She couldn’t let Reb see her this way! She couldn’t! How could the widows, Winnery, Scarlett, even Reverend Tippetts—how could her friends conspire to do this to her?

  “Isn’t it a lovely night for a ride?” Rose said, sighing. Sage frowned, amazed they could all be so calm. They each acted as if nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary was happening.

  “Yes, it is,” Eugenia added. “Look at the fire of those wildflowers at dusk.”

  “It puts one to thinkin’ on restful things, don’t it?” Mary said.

  Sage was undone then. She began to struggle, thrash around—attempted to scream. Through the bandana bound her mouth, muffling any sound she made, she yelled at them, demanding to be set free.

  “Settle down, Sage,” Rose said. “You’ll muss up your hair.”

  “And it does look so nice,” Eugenia added. Her eyes smiled above her bandana. “Doesn’t it look nice, Mr. Winnery?”

  “It looks very purty, indeed it does,” Mr. Winnery agreed.

  Sage released a heavy sigh, let her head drop forward. She was defeated. It didn’t matter what she did. Tied up the way she was—with Winnery so strong and capable as her captor—it didn’t matter what she did. She would simply have to wait for a future, more opportune moment to escape.

  She slumped back against the wagon wall, suddenly very tired.

  “You did hear Katie Bird is plum peached over Charlie Dugger, didn’t you?” Rose asked Mary.

  “Oh, I like her!” Mary said. “She’s a nice girl. The only one in the bunch with any gravy to her taters.”

  Sighing again—inwardly admitting she was in for a long night—Sage looked out over the landscape. The sun was low in the west, spilling soft light over the pastures. Sage thought of the truth of what Eugenia had said—for the Indian paintbrush dotting the landscape was beautiful! It seemed to burn wherever the fading light of day touched it. She inhaled, savoring the fragrance of the grass, the piñons, and the wildflowers. The warm breeze of evening caressed her skin and played with her hair. The squeak of the wagon seat, the sound of the leather harness and trace chains, the rhythm of the wheels as they traveled all combined to miraculously soothe her somehow.

  Incredible as it seemed, Sage slowly began to feel a surprising sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing Reb again. All at once, his handsome face fresh in her mind, she could almost feel his touch on her skin. Perhaps utter humiliation would be endurable for the chance to be in his company once more.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the last wagon ride she’d taken out to the ranch. She thought of the way Reb looked at her that day—the way he’d kissed her—the things he’d implied. She thought also of everything that had transpired since that day—all the anguish, heartache, confusion, and grief. She thought of the things Eugenia had told her only that morning—of Reb’s fears and of her own. She knew it was fear that had kept her from going to Reb after the mountain lion attack, and she knew it was fear that had kept her from him since. Still, she found it so very hard to believe Rebel Lee Mitchell was afraid of anything.

  Reverend Tippetts drove the team fast and hard, and soon the ranch house was in view. Upon seeing it, Sage instantly began to tremble again. What would he do? How would he react to seeing a wagon full of crazy people arriving at his door?

  Sage shook her head, mumbling, “No, no, no,” beneath the bandana covering her mouth.

  “Now don’t be nervous, Sage,” Eugenia said. “You look lovely.”

  “Ya do look so purty, Sage,” Mary added.

  “Like a lovely little bird,” Rose sighed.

  Sage rolled her eyes, sighing with exasperation. A body would’ve thought tying up a friend and dragging her off to certain humiliation and heartbreak was the most natural thing in the world.

  As Reverend Tippetts pulled the team to a halt, Winnery stood up. He took ahold of Sage’s elbow, helping her to her feet.

  Reverend Tippets climbed down off the wagon seat, and the widows scurried out of the wagon like a group of startled chipmunks.

  As Winnery took hold of Sage’s arm, urging her toward the side of the wagon, she struggled, wrenching her arm out of his grasp, and sitting down in the wagon. She knew he wouldn’t be able to throw her over his shoulder and climb down from the wagon. She’d sit hard, refuse to cooperate. That way they couldn’t get her into the ranch house, that way maybe Reb would never see her in such a compromised and ridiculous state.

  “Get ’er outta there, Winnery, would ya?” Reverend Tippetts asked.

  “Course,” Winnery said. Reaching down, he picked Sage up, cradling her in his arms. “There now, Miss Sage,” he began, “This’ll all go down a might easier if ya just accept that it’s so and do what ya need to.”

  “Give ’er to me,” Reverend Tippetts said. Winnery dropped to his
knees in the wagon, lifting Sage over the wagon wall and into Reverend Tippetts arms. Reverend Tippetts dropped Sage’s feet to the ground, allowing her to stand on her own, but keeping a tight hold on her all the same. Winnery jumped out of the wagon and lifted her over one shoulder.

  “It’s dark,” Mary said, looking in the direction of the house. “Dugger’s done his job, but we ain’t got long.”

  “Hurry,” Eugenia said, skulking toward the house. “Let’s get in there and get out quick!”

  Sage began to struggle. Her screams, though muffled, were audible enough.

  “Hush, Sage!” Rose ordered. “Be quiet. We’re sneakin’ here!”

  Winnery tightened his hold around her knees. Sage was caught, and she knew it. She wouldn’t get away before they reached the house. Yet hope burned within her, for the house was dark, indicating Reb was not there.

  All at once, Forest Simmons’s lady dog came out of the barn, loudly barking. In a moment, several wobbly-legged puppies followed her, yipping with excitement.

  “Oh, for cryin’ in the bucket!” Mary grumbled. “Here, girl! Here, lady!” she called to the female dog. “That’s a good girl,” Mary cooed as the dog ceased barking, licking Mary’s outstretched hand.

  “Get them pups back in the barn, Mary!” Eugenia ordered in a whisper. “Reb could ride up at any moment.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Bossy Betty,” Mary grumbled, leading the mama dog and her pups back to the old barn. “I’ll shut ’em in so they can’t bother us.”

  Winnery followed the Reverend Tippetts, Rose, and Eugenia up onto the front porch of the house. Eugenia pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  “Okeydokey, Winnery,” she said. “Bring her in.”

  Winnery stepped into the house, and instantly the lingering smell of bacon filled Sage’s senses.

  “Let’s tie her up on the bed,” Rose suggested. “We don’t want Reb too startled when he first walks in.”

  What? Sage exclaimed to herself.

  “Yes,” Eugenia agreed. “That way he’ll find her when he’s all tuckered out and relaxed, instead of before he’s had his supper.”

  Sage began to struggle, frantic to escape! But Winnery held her tight and followed the others through the house to one of the bedrooms.

  Eugenia lit a lamp and turned up the flame. Sage fought to hold back her tears as she looked about the room.

  The bed was large and comfortable looking. It also looked as if it hadn’t been spread up in a month. The quilts and sheets were twisted and rolled every which way.

  “Men!” Eugenia sighed with exasperation. Sage watched as Rose and Eugenia quickly spread up the bed.

  “Now sit her right there, Winnery,” Eugenia ordered, pointing to the bed. “Don’t you think that’s the best place, Reverend?”

  “Sure enough,” Reverend Tippetts said. “He oughta find her just fine there. Eventually, anyway.”

  Winnery rather indecorously dropped Sage on her sitter in the middle of the bed. Instantly, Sage began to struggle, but Winnery drew another length of rope from his pocket. Weaving the rope through the others around Sage’s body, Winnery secured her to the slatted headboard of the bed. Sage squirmed and tried to twist, but Joss Winnery was good with a rope. Sage knew she was still trapped—would be until someone else came along. She wanted to cry, knowing that “someone else” would be Reb.

  “That’s good enough. Looks to hold her fine,” Reverend Tippetts said.

  “Let’s just take this off,” Rose began, reaching out and removing the bandana from Sage’s mouth, “and fluff her up a little.”

  “Miss Rosie, please,” Sage pleaded.

  Rose’s eyes sympathetically smiled over her bandana.

  “You’ll be just fine, sweet pea,” she said as she twisted a lock of Sage’s hair around one finger to dress up the ringlet.

  “Here, darlin’,” Eugenia said then. Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, she withdrew the piece of paper Livie had given her before they left the boarding house.

  “Ya better quit fiddlin’ around, Eugenia,” Mary said, entering the room then. “He oughta be ridin’ up any minute.”

  “Yes, yes, I know, Mary,” Eugenia mumbled. She reached into her skirt pocket again, rummaging for something. “I need a safety pin,” she said. “Do you still have one holdin’ your camisole together at the shoulder?”

  “Yes, I do, Eugenia,” Mary grumbled, reaching inside the shoulder of her shirtwaist. “But I wish ya wouldn’t mention such things in front of the Rever’nd.”

  Mary quickly produced a rather bent-up safety pin, handing it to Eugenia. Using the pin, Eugenia attached the piece of paper to the bodice of Sage’s dress.

  “Now, you be sure Reb gets this, Sage honey,” Eugenia said.

  “What does it say?” Sage asked. What had Livie written on the piece of paper for Reb to read? And how was she supposed to give it to him when she was tied up?

  “Oh, just stuff and nonsense,” Eugenia said. She reached into her skirt pocket once more, producing a piece of hard candy. Popping it into Sage’s mouth she said, “Here’s a peppermint to hold you over ’til he comes home. All right?”

  “How could you all do this to me?” Sage mumbled, hurt and frightened.

  It was Reverend Tippetts who answered. Sitting down next to her on the bed, he patted her hands and said, “The Lord is love, Sage. I’m on the Lord’s side…the side of good and right and true. The devil is hate…hate and unhappiness…and fear. The devil’s usin’ fear here, Sage. He’s tryin’ to interfere with love…the right and true love between a good man and good woman. And I’m out to stop him cold in his tracks. And if it means tyin’ ya up and leavin’ ya here so Reb will find ya so’s the two of you can beat the devil together…then that’s what I mean to do.”

  Sage felt tears brimming in her eyes. She was so apprehensive and so very anxious!

  “B-but, Reverend,” she stammered. “I-I’m here now. If you just untie me…I promise to face him on my own.”

  Reverend Tippetts reached out, cupping her face in one hand. “Oh, ya’ll be facin’ him on yer own all right, Sage. And won’t this just make the story all that more interestin’?”

  He stood then and walked out of the room.

  Winnery touched the brim of his hat as he grinned at Sage and said, “Ya have a nice evenin’ now, Miss Sage.” Then he left too.

  Sage looked to Rose—then to Mary and Eugenia—all still wearing red bandanas over their faces and standing with hands clasped and slouchy shoulders like three guilty children.

  “I’ll never forgive you for this,” Sage said, fighting back tears.

  “You’ll thank us for it one day, Sage,” Eugenia told her. “I promise. Trust us, Sage. Only trust us. Trust Reb too. And trust yourself.”

  “You look so pretty, Sage,” Rose sighed. “You know we love ya, Sage. You know we do. And you look so pretty. Reb’s gonna feel like a child on Christmas mornin’!”

  “Just cinch up yer corset strings and hang on for the ride, Sage,” Mary said, nodding with encouragement.

  Eugenia breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Well, girls…let’s get goin’.” She looked back to Sage as they turned to leave. “I do love you, Sage. I love you as much as I do my own children. It’ll all be fine.”

  They were gone. Sage closed her eyes, allowing some of her tears to travel over her cheeks. She couldn’t let them all escape, however. It was bad enough Reb was going to come home and eventually find her. She couldn’t let him find her dressed like a saloon girl, tied up to his bed, and red-faced and puffy-eyed from crying too.

  Leaning her head back against the headboard, she sighed. She closed her eyes and listened. Through the open window of Reb’s bedroom, she could hear the rumble of the wagon as her friends abandoned her. The rumble grew fainter and fainter until it was too distant to hear. Soon only the soothing music of crickets and the far-off burping of the frogs down by the creek reached her ears.

  Sage opened her eyes and looked a
round the room then. The dim light of the lamp cast soft shadows, the flicker of its flame causing them to dance along the walls. There was a washbasin and pitcher on a nearby table. An old trunk with blankets and clothes strewn across it sat in one corner. A mirror hung on one wall above a chest of drawers, and a framed painting of a cow hung over the wall above the headboard of the bed.

  She couldn’t help but smile as her eyes fell to another corner of the room where a pile of boots, shirts, and worn blue jeans lay in a heap. She sighed, all at once delighted by the idea of being in his room—of witnessing the place where he slept.

  Her smile faded instantly, however, as her ears caught the sound of approaching horses. For a moment she thought (actually hoped) Reverend Tippetts, Winnery, and the widows had experienced a change of heart and were returning to free her. As the sound grew louder, however, she recognized the rhythm of the gait—of horses bearing riders.

  She heard a sharp whistle—heard Reb call, “Here! Bullet!” Suddenly, her body was awash with goose bumps—trembling with nervous anticipation.

  “I’m bunkin’ in early tonight,” she heard Charlie Dugger say.

  “Ya feelin’ all right, Charlie?” Reb asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Charlie said. “Just a bit more tuckered out than usual.”

  “Don’t ya want some supper?” Reb asked.

  “Nope,” Charlie said. “Had me some jerky ’fore ya rode out with me. I’ll take care of ol’ Ned for ya though. Ya look as tired out as an ol’ dog tonight.”

  “Well, I won’t thank ya for that, Charlie,” Reb chuckled. “But I will thank for ya takin’ care of Ned for me. I’m a bit tired out myself tonight. Looks like I left the lamp burnin’ inside when I left this mornin’. I gotta start makin’ sure I’m wide awake when I ride out from now on.”

  “Well, it has been a long couple of days,” Charlie said.