The Touch of Sage

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Sage shook her head, saying, “No. No, I never knew that.”

  “I sold the land to Forest Simmons…asked him to look after my Ruth’s little resting place for me,” Dahlia explained. “I asked him to take care of her for me…asked him to make certain someone always took care of her…until I could come back and be with her myself.”

  Sage’s mind was still spinning. She could not believe it! Ruthie’s mother standing before her? How could it be real? She looked back to the lovely painting of sweet little Ruth States. She fancied the painting smiled at her—Ruth’s eyes shining with love and happiness. She looked up then to the handsome, wonderful man she loved—the man who’d found Ruthie for her. Whatever had she done to deserve the heart of such a man as Reb Mitchell?

  “I wrote to the sheriff in the town ol’ Forest told me Miss Dahlia here had moved to,” Reb explained. “I told him the situation…that I was lookin’ for the mother of a little girl buried here. He knew right where to find her.”

  “The sheriff…well, he’s married to my granddaughter,” Dahlia added, a quiet sort of laughter escaping her throat. Her eyes narrowed with merriment. “When Mr. Mitchell’s letters began to arrive, I knew the time had come. And then when his telegram arrived last week asking if I would come here…come to see you and tell you about my Ruth…well, then I knew it was time for me to go back to my little girl…make certain she knew I was here…make certain she wasn’t alone any longer.”

  “But I’ve been here, Miss Dahlia,” Sage began. She wanted the woman to understand her daughter had always been cared for, never forgotten. “I made sure she was never alone long.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I know,” Dahlia said, cupping Sage’s cheek once more. “The ladies here…your good friends at the boarding house took me out to see her only just this evening. Just as the sun was beginning to set. It’s a beautiful space, Sage. Just beautiful! And…and your handsome cowboy hero has also assured me that when my time comes—and I won’t be lying to you…I’ve been ill, and my time is near—your Reb assured me in his letter that he can extend the range of the fence he built around Ruth so as to include my resting place next to her when I do go. If…if that’s all right with you.”

  “Oh, don’t say such things, Miss Dahlia,” Sage began. “I’m sure you have a good long time yet before…”

  “I want you to keep her portrait, Sage,” Dahlia interrupted. “I want you to have it. Ruth wants you to have it…so that you’ll always have her face in mind to go along with her spirit you already know.”

  Sage brushed the tears from her face as she looked again at the painting of the lovely little girl who had once laughed and lived and was still loved. She closed her eyes, imagining the little dark-haired darling running and playing in the green pasture grasses and beautiful wildflowers.

  “She was my strength so many, many times,” Sage whispered.

  “Mine too, sweetheart,” Dahlia said, tears traveling over her cheeks. “Mine too.”

  Sage threw one arm around Dahlia’s shoulders, hugging her tightly, holding the painting safely in the other arm. Dahlia returned her embrace. Dahlia States—Ruthie’s mother! It was a miracle.

  “And I hear you have an empty room here at your boarding house,” Dahlia said, once their embrace had ended. “A lovely little room perfectly suited for a woman in the winter of her life, awaiting the call of heaven.”

  Sage smiled, nodded, and wiped more tears from her cheeks. “I do, Mrs. States. And nothin’ would make me happier than to have you stayin’ here with us.”

  “I’ll write to my son…have him send some more of my things out,” Dahlia said.

  “And do you, perchance, play rummy, Dahlia?” Livie asked, dabbing at her tears with a pretty lace hanky.

  Sage shook her head, smiling. She heard Reb chuckle and looked up to him, breathless at the sight of him so near to her.

  “I do, indeed, Miss Livie,” Dahlia said. “I do indeed!”

  “Then whats say we get a lively game goin’?” Rose said. Rose walked to Dahlia, placing a friendly hand on her arm.

  “Fair warnin’ there, Dahlia,” Mary said. “Livie here cheats, and she don’t shuffle right at all, not at all.”

  “I shuffle fine, Mary,” Livie said, sticking her tongue out at Mary. “Just sit next to me, Dahlia,” she said, taking Dahlia’s other arm. “I’m the only one who doesn’t try to sneak peeks at other people’s cards.”

  “Now that’s just a plain lie, Livie, and you know it!” Mary exclaimed.

  “Girls,” Eugenia began, “Dahlia is gonna think we’re a bunch of cacklin’ old hens if you don’t stop your bickerin’.”

  Sage brushed the tears from her cheeks, carefully setting the portrait of little Ruth States on the mantel over the parlor fireplace. Once more, she gazed into the bright happiness of Ruthie’s eyes—unable to entirely grasp the reality of all that had happened.

  Sage sighed, blissful as Reb stepped up behind her, wrapping his powerful arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. As he pressed a tender kiss to her neck, Sage closed her eyes, breathless at his touch. Letting her arms cover his, she leaned back against him as he placed another kiss on her shoulder.

  “She was a purty little thing,” he said as he too gazed at the portrait a moment.

  “Yes, she was,” Sage said. “I expect she’d look a lot like her mother now.”

  “Sage? Reb?” Eugenia asked. Reb turned them around, and Sage smiled at the four guilty expressions that met them. The widows looked like four children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “We’re…we’re thinkin’ that, by the looks of things…” Eugenia stammered.

  “We’re thinkin’ now the two of you got past all that stuff and nonsense goin’ on between ya,” Mary finished.

  “And that, since you obviously did get past it all…that perhaps neither one of you is holdin’ any kind of a grudge against us for interferin’,” Rose added.

  “I missed out on all the fun, Sage,” Livie added. “So you can’t possibly be too angry with me. Now can you?”

  Sage smiled at her friends. Her heart was so filled with love and joy she thought it might burst! She gazed for a moment at each one of them. She looked to Mary—her leathery old face so filled with emotion. She looked to Rose—her cheeks as over-pinked as ever. Livie still wore the expression of having just a smidgen less brains than any of the others, and Eugenia—well, Eugenia wore the most sentimental expression of all—an expression of satisfaction—of love and happiness.

  “Well, I ain’t mad in the least,” Reb said, releasing Sage and going to hug his aunt. “Can’t think of one thing I’d rather come home from a long day and find than Sage dressed like a brazen hussy and tied up to my bed.”

  “Oh, Reb!” Eugenia scolded, slapping him on the shoulder as he kissed her cheek.

  “You were right,” he told her. “You were right all along.” Sage smiled as Eugenia brushed a joyous tear from her cheek. “My only regret is I didn’t get to see you girls dressed up like bandits,” he said, kissing Livie on the cheek. “What a sight that musta been.” Reb kissed Mary on the cheek too. However, as he reached Rose, he took her face between his strong hands and kissed her soundly on the lips.

  “Payin’ up your debts, Reb?” Rose asked as he released her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reb said. “Though I still owe ya some waltzin’.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing, sweet boy,” Rose said, reaching up and caressing his cheek with the back of her hand and then her palm.

  Sage giggled, going to Mary and embracing her. She smelled like bacon and old fabric, and Sage promised herself she’d remember the aroma of Mary Anne Farthen forever.

  “Thank you, Miss Mary,” Sage whispered. “Thank you for loving me.”

  “Oh, go on now, Sage,” Mary said, brushing a tear from her leathery cheek. “Ya’ll get me all hog-sloppy.”

  Throwing her arms around Rose then, Sage said, “Thank you, Miss Rosie. I could never have survived eve
rythin’ without you. What would I have ever done if you hadn’t been here when my parents…”

  “It’s me who couldn’t have survived, Sage,” Rose said, tears trickling down her over-pinked cheeks.

  “Miss Livie,” Sage said, embracing Livie then. “Thank you. Thank you for touchin’ my life…for makin’ it better because you were in it.”

  “I’m a mess, Sage,” Livie said, fanning her face with one hand, tears spilling from her eyes. “You know how I hate to be a mess.”

  Sage looked to Eugenia then. She was distracted for a moment, giggling as she heard Rose ask Reb, “Think you could part with one more of those kisses of yours, Reb? Maybe a little more lingerin’ this time?”

  Sage smiled, amused as Reb relented, letting Rose take his face in her hands and kiss him squarely on the mouth once more.

  “I really do love you like my own, Sage,” Eugenia said. Sage looked at the woman, smiling.

  “I know,” Sage said. “And you’ve been the mother I’ve needed.”

  Eugenia burst into tears, wrapping her arms around Sage and kissing her soundly on one cheek.

  “Thank you, Sage,” Eugenia whispered. “Thank you for loving my little Rebel.”

  Tears fell from Sage’s eyes—her heart bursting of love and gratitude to the women who had gifted her so much loyalty, love, and affection.

  “Thank you, Miss Eugenia,” Sage whispered. “Thank you for bringing him here to love me.”

  “Have you forgiven them for their plotting, Sage?” Dahlia asked, coming to stand near her.

  “I love them for their plottin’,” Sage told her. She reached out, embracing Dahlia then. “Thank you for comin’ here, Miss Dahlia. Thank you for bringin’ Ruthie to me.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Dahlia whispered.

  “Rose Applewhite!” Mary exclaimed suddenly. “Yer gonna smother that boy fer certain! Leave him be.”

  Sage released Dahlia, looking to where Rose stood still holding Reb’s face. The mischief in her eyes sparkled like the stars in the sky.

  “Now, Reb,” Rose began, “Two little kisses like that are hardly gonna hold me over.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Rosie,” Reb said, taking her hands in his and kissing the backs of them sweetly. “But you just got the last kiss I’m ever givin’ to any other woman except my brazen hussy over there.”

  Sage giggled and then gasped, having all at once remembered the state of her attire.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, turning to Dahlia. “I want you to know, Miss Dahlia,” she explained, smoothing her dress with her hands, “I don’t normally dress like this. I…I…”

  “I normally dress like this, though,” Reb said. Turning from Rose, he gathered Sage into his arms, and she sighed, breathless in his embrace.

  “Oh, give her a big lickery kiss, Reb,” Rose said. “Just for us.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miss Rosie,” Reb mumbled. Sage gasped—her entire being—her very soul—alive with excitement as he kissed her then. The widows giggled with glee as Reb coaxed Sage into sharing a moist, heated, deeply impassioned kiss.

  Suddenly, however, he broke the seal of their lips, swooped Sage into his arms, and said, “Excuse us, girls. I’d like to finish this in private.”

  Sage smiled at him, caressed his handsome face with her hands. He loved her! Reb Mitchell loved her! She could see it in the fire in his eyes, had sensed it by the way he handled her, tasted it in his kiss.

  “Where are we goin’?” Sage asked as he carried her. Oh, she didn’t care a lick where he was taking her. She’d go anywhere with him. Still, the smile on his face told her there was mischief in his mind.

  “Outside,” he answered, kicking the back door open with one boot. Stepping outside, he pushed the door closed with one shoulder.

  “Now then,” he began, dropping her feet to the ground. Leaning back against the door, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her snuggly against the warm protection of his body. He paused, however, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down at her.

  “Now then, what?” Sage asked, resting one palm against the strength of his chest, the other softly caressing the back of his neck. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?”

  “Do ya want me to kiss ya?” he asked, his voice low, alluring—fascinating.

  “Oh yes!” Sage breathed, excess moisture flooding her mouth in heavenly anticipation. “Please,” she added, letting her fingertips lightly trace his lips.

  Her simple touch seemed to instantly ignite him, for his mouth captured hers at once—white-hot passion flaming between them. Such love—such passion—such desire Reb evoked within her—Sage had never imagined before knowing him. She must belong to him! She had to have won him! A strange, almost frightening desperation began to rise in her, and she tightened her embrace, wanting only to be his—forever.

  He broke the seal of their lips, suddenly. Pressing his forehead against hers, his breath quickened and heavy, he asked, “Will ya marry me, Sage?”

  “What?” Sage breathed, pulling away slightly in order to look at him.

  His eyes were narrowed—filled with moisture—a frown puckered his brow as he said, “I…I know ya’ve been through a lot today…the widows’ antics, seein’ Ruthie, meetin’ Dahlia, and all.”

  “Rebel,” Sage breathed. She didn’t want him to say it again, not unless he truly meant it. Oh, how she longed for him to mean it!

  “I know yer probably tired and that the last thing ya want to decide right now is—”

  “Ask me again,” Sage breathed. “But only if you mean it. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t mean—”

  “Will ya marry me, Sage?” Reb asked without pause. “I love you,” he said. “I love ya, and I can’t do without ya. I need you, Sage,” he continued, “I need ya to smile at me, laugh with me. I need ya to take long rides out with me…long rides out to Ruthie’s pasture. I want ya to sleep in my arms. I want to wake up in the mornin’ sun and see yer face first thing. I want my babies growin’ inside you. I want ya to love me every minute of every day the way I love you. Sage, I—”

  “You’d marry me, Reb?” she asked in a whisper, tears streaming over her cheeks suddenly. “Would you really marry—”

  “I love you, Sage,” he interrupted. “I love you like I never imagined lovin’ anybody. Say you’ll marry me, Sage Willows. Say you’ll marry me…be my wife. Say you’ll love me forever.”

  “I already love you forever,” Sage said. “I will marry you. I’ll marry and be your wife.” She reached up running her fingers through his hair. “And you’ll be mine…all mine.”

  “I’ve always been yers,” Reb said, softly kissing the corner of her mouth. “Since the minute that fool dog wound ya up with me on the porch.”

  “I love you, Reb Mitchell,” Sage breathed as he bent to place a lingering kiss on her neck.

  “Then marry me,” he said. “Marry me tomorrow and prove it.”

  “Tomorrow?” Sage asked smiling up at him. “Wearin’ what? Scarlet Tippetts’s old saloon dress?”

  “We’ve already got your weddin’ dress finished, Sage!” It was Rose’s voice.

  Sage looked over to the open kitchen window to see five heads of white hair with five smiling faces peering out at her and Reb.

  “We’ve been workin’ on it all week!” Livie added with excitement as if there were nothing at all wrong with their eavesdropping.

  “Now ya done it, Rose!” Mary grumbled. “Ya give us way.”

  “Shut that window and let me love on Sage awhile, you naughty little banditas,” Reb scolded with a chuckle.

  “Now ya done it,” Mary grumbled, as she closed the window.

  Reb smiled, shaking his head as he looked back to Sage.

  “They love you so much, Reb,” Sage told him.

  “They love you so much,” he reminded her.

  “Will you kiss me, Rebel Mitchell?” she asked. “Will you kiss me…kiss me ’til I can’t hardly breathe?”

  “You bet,” he mumbled a moment befor
e his mouth found hers. “I’ll kiss ya ’til neither of us can’t hardly breathe.”

  And he did.

  Sage Willows’s Cornbread Stuffin’

  Cornbread:

  2 c. Cornmeal

  2 c. Flour

  ½ c. Sugar

  2 t. Salt

  6 t. Baking Powder

  1 t. Black Pepper

  4 Sage Leaves (Finely Chopped)

  2 Eggs

  ½ c. Oil

  2 c. Milk

  Combine ingredients for cornbread, and bake in

  greased 9×13 pan at 400 for 20–30 minutes. Allow to cool.

  Stuffin’:

  1 Chopped Onion

  5 Chopped Stalks of Celery

  2–8 Fresh Sage Leaves (Finely Chopped)

  Strip Leaves from 10–15 Fresh Thyme Branches

  2 t. Dried Marjoram

  Salt to Taste

  Warm Turkey or Chicken Broth

  Crumble cornbread into large bowl, add marjoram, and set aside. Sauté onion, celery, and fresh herbs in butter, and mix into crumbled cornbread mixture. Add salt to taste, then add ½–1 cup broth until stuffing is moist but not soggy.

  Place in glass baking dish or bowl, cover, and heat thoroughly before serving.

  Author’s Note

  In the summer of 1999, our family took a little trip to Wild Horse, Colorado, to visit our good friends Lyle and Patsy and their two boys, Brandon and Chris. (Lyle is my cousin, actually—my mother’s cousin’s son.) This trip proved to be not only one of the most memorable our family would ever take—cherished and treasured forever—but also an experience that would seep into our very souls—especially mine.

  By 1999 we’d been living in Washington State for two years and desperately needed some sun, wide open plains, cattle, adventure, and time with loved ones! Lyle and Patsy’s family had encompassed all that for us for years, and we couldn’t wait to see them. That trip was somehow life altering—or maybe it was just that it took place during a time before all our lives were about to be irrevocably altered. Either way, our family had one of the most wonderful experiences of our lives! Our cherished time with our loved ones on that oh-so-memorable trip in 1999 found us steeped in love, laughter, and adventure. We explored an old haunted house, investigated a dead cow (filled with buckets of maggots—very intriguing, indeed), ate like kings on Lyle’s beef, cuddled new puppies, hauled hay, laughed our guts out over stupid jokes, rode an antique carousel, perused antiques, determined that Brandon and Chris (Lyle and Patsy’s sons and my boys’ idols) had very manly hands for teenagers, and drove out in a thunderstorm to watch the lightning in the distance. Though all these experiences were marvelous, lifted our spirits, and gave us tender, wonderful memories to draw on for the rest of our lives—there was one experience in particular that touched me—permeated my very soul somehow. It might seem simple, almost trivial, to anyone else. However, to me it was so affecting as to linger in my heart and mind foremost and forever.