Sweet Mountain Magic

by Rosanne Bittner

  The reverend knelt in front of Venado, taking her hand. “Well, now, how is it you don’t speak, little lady? Is there something you’re afraid of?”

  She only looked up at Sage as though she were asking if this man was supposed to be there. Sage moved to stand beside her.

  “It’s all right,” he told her, grasping her shoulder. “The reverend is here to help you.” He turned his attention to the reverend. “I was hoping you’d know what to do for her—or maybe you’d take her with you. I reckon after being with her own kind a while—I mean, settled people and all—she’ll come around. In the meantime, she’d be with nice folks and maybe she could be a companion and helpmate to the women. She’s a good worker—takes care of herself, cooks, knows how to clean up camp and all. She does about everything now but talk.”

  The reverend studied the questioning, violet eyes. “Perhaps after more time, if she has complete peace and feels safe, she’ll come around.” He looked up at Sage. “Of course, we’d be well on our way to Oregon. She’d have to go with us and then decide if she wanted to go home and how she would get there. We’d help her all we could. It’s the Christian thing to do. But not knowing who she is—well, it certainly makes things difficult. I’d have to have a meeting with the others on the train to find out if it’s all right with them.” His eyes moved over Sage. “You apparently are not a settling man. I take it that’s part of the reason you’d like her to go with us.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guilt began to build again, but he fought it. “I’m not fit to be hauling around a young lady. I live a dangerous life that would kill somebody as delicate as she looks.” He rubbed at his beard, feeling awkward. “Well, you can see she doesn’t belong with me, sir. I only kept her with me because I hoped to find help here at the fort.”

  The reverend nodded. “Of course.” He sighed deeply, holding her hand a moment longer and closing his eyes in prayer before letting go of her hand. “I’ll go discuss it with the others and find a wagon for her. If that all works out, we’ll take her and you’ll be free to leave whenever you wish.”

  Sage nodded. “I’m obliged.”

  “Not at all, Mister MacKenzie. And thank you for being Christian enough to bring her here and not leave her in the mountains for the wild animals and Indians.”

  The man rose and shook Sage’s hand again. “Give me a couple of hours. We hope to be able to leave in the morning, so we must make a decision today.” Again he turned his eyes to the woman. “What a pity. I will pray very hard for her. The Lord will bring back her voice when the time is right.” He looked up at Sage. “Sometimes this is the Lord’s way of helping someone bear something so terrible that to think about it right away is too much. I think she must be suffering some kind of shock, afraid to face some terrible memory.” He turned back to the woman, putting his hand on her head. “God will help heal the wounds that keep you silent, child.”

  She only looked up at Sage, reaching up and taking his arm. Sage reddened under the preacher’s stare. “She’s gotten kind of attached to me, I reckon,” he explained. “She looks to me to protect her.”

  The reverend looked him over with eyes that seemed to Sage to be all too knowing. “Yes. Well, she’ll be safe enough with us. Perhaps you can get her to understand that.” He sighed deeply. “I must say this trip has certainly taxed my services, what with the cholera and other mishaps we’ve had. Now this. But I take whatever the Lord brings me, Mister MacKenzie, and do the best I can. Perhaps there is a reason He has added this poor, helpless woman to our flock.”

  Sage nodded. “Maybe so. I think I’ll take the woman outside, walk with her a bit. I’d appreciate an answer before night. If you’ll take her, I’ll be leaving by then.” He felt her hand tighten on his arm.

  “Certainly.” The reverend left, and Sage led the woman outside into the warm sunshine. He walked a distance from the cabin and the other people, setting her down on a rock. Then he knelt in front of her.

  “I reckon I’ll be leaving you soon, Venado. You’ll be going on with the reverend and the good people with him.”

  Her eyes teared again, and she reached out and hugged him tightly. He pulled her away.

  “It’s got to be, honey. It’s best. You’ll understand that someday.” Her breathing quickened and he held her arms tightly. “Now don’t go doing that again. You have to trust me to do what’s right for you. God knows I’ve done enough wrong. He’ll forgive you—your mental state and all. But I don’t expect he’ll ever forgive me.”

  He squeezed her arms reassuringly. “I just hope you can forgive me when you come around and understand all that’s happened. But by then I’ll be gone. That will help, your not having to look at me and know what I did to you.” He forced a smile, surprised that his own eyes wanted to tear. “By God, I think I’ll miss you though, much as I’m not a man to be traveling with a woman on my back.”

  He studied the beautiful face. “And I’ll sure as hell miss the way you made me feel in that bedroll. I don’t know for sure why you let me enjoy you that way. God forbid it could be because you think you love me. That’s not something any woman should feel for the likes of me, because it’s sure enough wasted on a wandering man. So don’t be thinking you love me or anything like that, you hear?”

  She hugged him again.

  “Damn,” Sage muttered. “This won’t be as easy as I’d hoped.” Again he pushed her away, sitting down beside her. “Let’s just sit here together, all right? We’ll sit right here and wait for the reverend.”

  He said nothing more, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as he sat looking out at the surrounding mountains. That was where he belonged—alone in the mountains, not settled with some woman. No. That wasn’t for Sage MacKenzie. His woman lay in nature, in the mountains and the free air and the wilds. Those were the things that held him, not anything of flesh and blood.

  For two hours they sat, until Charlie came hobbling toward them, yelling that the reverend was looking for them.

  “Come on,” Sage told her. “Let’s go back.”

  He had to half pull her along, as though she sensed something terrible and didn’t want to go. The reverend waited at the cabin with two women, who looked at Sage’s find with pity in their eyes.

  “Oh, so young and pretty she is,” one of them said. She was a plain, matronly woman, whose sympathy seemed very real.

  “We’ll help you, honey,” the other woman put in. She was older, a grandmotherly type. Sage was relieved and satisfied with both women, for their concern appeared genuine.

  “We have decided to take the woman with us,” the reverend told Sage. “God has brought her to us and we cannot turn her away. The poor thing needs help. Maybe with a lot of attention and prayer, she’ll heal.”

  Sage nodded. “I’m sure she will. She’s so close now. I thank you, Reverend. I know it’s an extra burden, and journeys like yours are not easy. What faith are you, Reverend?”

  “We’re Methodists, Mister MacKenzie. And what you yourself have done is very Christian.”

  Again guilt swept through Sage at the memory of his nights with his Venado. “I don’t know, Reverend. Men like me don’t much think about things like that.”

  “Well, we shall pray for your own safety as you go on your way. Will you stay until morning?”

  Sage looked down at the woman. “No. I think I’d better not. She…uh…she’s grown a little attached to me. It’s probably better that I go right away.”

  “Whatever you think is best.” The reverend took one of her hands, while the first woman still had hold of the other. “Come, child. We have a place for you to stay the night.”

  She looked frantically at Sage, trying to pull away from them.

  “Go on now. Go with them.” He looked at the reverend. “I couldn’t find any of her things. Everything was burned. There’s just a couple of dresses and some other women’s things, but they’re all too big for her. I’ll leave them with Charlie and he can bring them to you.”

&nbs
p; “Fine.”

  “Oh, and…uh…I call her Venado. It’s Spanish for Little Deer. I felt like I had to call her something, you know?”

  “Yes. Well, we’ll find an appropriate name for her.”

  The woman and the reverend started away with her again. They led her only a few feet, when Venado yanked her hands away, running back to Sage and hugging him. Sage reddened deeply, while Sax and Charlie stood back trying not to laugh.

  “Go on, now, honey. You go with these good folks here. They’ll help you.”

  She looked up at him, starting to cry as they again took her arms to pull her away. She strained at their grasp.

  “Sage,” she whimpered.

  Everyone stood still, and Sage felt a chill sweep through him. She’d spoken!

  “Sage! Sage!”

  He grasped her arms. “You talked!” He smiled at her. “You talked!” He searched the pleading, violet eyes. “Are you remembering something, Venado? Can you tell us where you came from? Who you are?”

  Her chest heaved in gasps and sobs. “Sage! Sage!” She hugged him again. “Sage!”

  He pushed her away, studying her closely. “Is that it? Just my name? Talk to us, Venado. What’s your name? Where did you come from?”

  “Sage!”

  Sage sighed deeply. “I don’t think she remembers yet, Reverend. The only thing she recognizes is me. I don’t think she’s got a memory past the day I found her. I’m all she knows, and God knows that’s sure not best for her.” He fought his own tears. “I thought for a minute there…” Again he pushed her toward the reverend. “I’m glad you can speak, Venado. Glad you can at least remember my name. You’re gonna get well, and these people here are gonna help you do that. Go on now. Go with them.”

  It had to be done, and done quickly, he realized. It was senseless to draw it out, senseless to stay and see if she would get better. Even if she did, he shouldn’t be around. A man had to do what he had to do. He quickly moved away from her, while the violet eyes watched him and she continued to call his name in pitiful whimpers.

  His heart rejoiced that she had spoken. Apparently he had done that much good. But he had also done a lot of harm. He had shared her body, something he never should have done. Maybe she thought he loved her. But it was foolish of her to think that, and best she know right away that he didn’t.

  He hurried to his horse and again she broke away, running to him.

  “Sage,” she called out in a stronger voice.

  “I’m leaving now, Venado. I told you I would. I’ve brought you to help. That’s all I ever meant to do and it’s best for you.” He reined his horse away when she grabbed for his leg. “Sorry to leave all you folks so quick, but I’d best get out of her sight right away,” he told the reverend and the women with him. He glanced at Sax and Charlie, who both looked ready to burst out laughing. But inside, Sage didn’t feel like laughing at all. Inside he wanted to cry himself, and he didn’t even know why.

  Charlie threw his parfleche up to him. “Come back and see us again, Sage,” he yelled, giving Sage a wink. “Come when you can stay longer.”

  Sage sent him a scowl and turned his horse. He rode off, the pitiful cry of “Sage” stabbing at his heart. He dared not turn around. If he turned around…

  “Sage,” she called out again. But her voice was fading as he headed for the mountains, where he belonged.

  Chapter Six

  Far in the distance a wolf howled at the full moon. Moments later an animal Sage could not name let out an eerie cry, and the sound tore at his heart, reminding him of his Venado crying out for him as he rode away from her.

  He watched the dancing flames of his camp fire, struggling with his conscience. Was she sitting in some strange wagon, crying like a child, frightened and alone? He’d taken away the only security she knew. That wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t also taken something much more precious, something that never rightfully belonged to him.

  And yet now when he thought of her, it was with the feeling that she most certainly did belong to him. He’d never felt this sense of possessiveness before, not with a woman. It angered and confused him. Not only could she be some other man’s wife, but he never dreamed he could feel this way.

  He sighed deeply, leaning against his saddle. He missed her. In all the years he’d wandered alone, he’d never longed for anyone’s companionship. And now he missed a tiny young woman whom he didn’t even know and who couldn’t talk.

  “She’s bewitched you, Sage MacKenzie,” he muttered. Surely that was it. The woman had some kind of silent power. He could see her face as clearly as if she had been right there beside him. And even though she’d never spoken aloud, they had shared a kind of quiet, sweet communication.

  He wondered at how she’d spoken his name aloud. Did she care for him so much that when he left her it had brought forth such agony that she managed to speak his name? Had he been right to leave her just when she had finally spoken? Perhaps she was getting better but now would withdraw back into the shell in which he had found her. If she did, she would be a terrible burden on the others.

  Perhaps they would leave her with still more strangers, abandon her. Who could tell? What did he really know about those people? He’d been so anxious to unload the woman, he’d taken the easiest means of doing so. But what choice did a man have out here in this land? There were no towns here, no facilities or help for people like Venado. The preacher was the closest he was going to come to someone who could help her.

  And yet he couldn’t get over the haunting feeling that he could have helped her himself. After all, he had already done so. She had improved tremendously since that day he had found her, and in only a very short time. But it was the reason she had improved that frightened him. She had turned to him, trusted him implicitly, looked to him for help and understanding. It frightened him to have someone cling to him, depend on him. Maybe she even thought she loved him.

  He stuck a thin cigar in his mouth and lit it. Love. What did he know about love? He’d not had a normal family life for eighteen years. Was the way he felt right now about the woman love? Was that what made him feel so guilty, so sad? Was that what caused this pain in his chest, this longing to have her sitting across the fire from him? Did a man need that kind of companionship when he got older?

  If only he hadn’t gone to investigate the smoke. That’s what he got for being nosy. From now on he was minding his own business, no matter what.

  The unnamed animal cried out again, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep well that night. Whether his eyes were open or closed, he could see her face, see the tears in those violet eyes, hear her crying out his name like a wounded animal. He’d dropped her off like a stray puppy. But she wasn’t an animal. She was a human being, a beautiful young woman whom he’d taken advantage of. He had thought enough of her to ravage her body, but not enough to help her when she needed it most.

  He threw the cigar into the fire, disgusted with himself. But it was done now. Maybe she had settled down and would be all right. It was over. He had to forget about her and go on with his life, but he didn’t know just where to go from here. Maybe he’d go a little farther east, find work on some ranch.

  He had to do something. He couldn’t just lie around in the mountains the rest of his life, and trapping was no longer practical. But ranching didn’t suit his fancy either. Staying in one place sounded so boring. Maybe he’d winter in Independence, spend his nights with the whores and in the saloons until spring came again and new hordes of people would head west and need a guide. Independence was a good place to be in the spring.

  Yes. That’s what he would do. He would go to Independence. That way he’d be far away from his Venado, ensuring he would never see her again.

  Sage awoke to a glorious, sunny morning, but clouds loomed on the western horizon, hanging low over the distant mountains.

  “We’re gonna get one of those early storms, boy,” he told his horse. “Might even be a little snow in those clouds, in spite
of how nice it is here right now.”

  He stood up and stretched, and as soon as he was fully awake the reality of his loneliness hit him again. She was not there, fixing a fire, preparing breakfast, not there to talk to. Worst of all, she had not been there in the night. He’d had his share of women, but none had left the feelings he had now when he thought of making love to his Venado. She had been different somehow, more fulfilling. She had brought out emotions and desires he had never felt before. She was more than just a body there to make him feel good. She had made him feel good in other ways, the most manly ways. She had made him feel protective, possessive, supportive, needed. Somehow all those feelings made being with her sexually so much more satisfying, more thrilling.

  Was that what loving a woman was like? When he thought of being with her in the night, it was not with lust, not just for the sex. With other women it had been merely a matter of having a good time. With Venado it was making love.

  He washed out his mouth and washed his face. He didn’t bother with a fire. He wasn’t very hungry. For a fleeting moment he thought of going back and getting Venado, but he reminded himself then that it would be foolish to do so. It was done now. She was better off. He would just be asking for trouble all over again if he went back.

  He loaded up his gear and mounted his horse, sitting for a moment and looking west. Fort Bridger was out there somewhere, but he had made sure he had gotten over the first range of low mountains before stopping the day before, so that he couldn’t see the fort at all. It was just as well. He turned his horse. He would head east and hope he could stay ahead of the black clouds on the horizon. Was it raining or snowing back at the fort? Was she warm enough, dry enough?

  Quit worrying about her, he told himself, heading out.

  He urged his horse down a rocky embankment, suddenly in a hurry to put more miles between himself and the fort. But he unwisely forced the horse to move a little faster, rather than letting his trusty steed pick his own way. All good mountain men knew that in places like this a man lets his horse find its own way down. Sage had a good horse, one of the best. He knew these mountains well, and Sage confused the animal through his own turbulent emotions, which the horse sensed. Without thinking, Sage gave him a little kick, actually just reacting to his own disgust with himself.