He leaned back and touched her hair. “You bake your bread and do whatever else you need to do today. And you think about what your last name might be. I’ve got a lot of wood to cut and haul on the travois. I might have to go a ways from the cabin, so if you don’t see me close, don’t be afraid, understand?” He searched the violet eyes. “Do you understand, Mary?”
She blinked and nodded.
“Stay inside where it’s warm. If I’m gone a long time, don’t be afraid. Don’t try to come out and find me. I’ll come back.” He kissed her lightly. “I’ll come back. Tonight we’ll be together again.” He hugged her tightly. “It will be a long day, Ven—I mean, Mary. Last night was the best time I ever had.” He rubbed his hand over the firm roundness of her bottom, already eager to feel her satiny skin again. She was so willing and eager to please him. There was not one secret place he had not explored, not one part of her with which he was not already familiar.
He pulled away from her again. “Remember what I said. Stay inside and wait for me, even if I’m gone all day. We need a lot of wood. I’ll take some beef jerky. That will be enough. I’ll come back early evening or before. Just make sure there’s coffee on the fire.”
She smiled and nodded.
He squeezed her hands then. “It’s good you remembered your name. Don’t be worrying if you can’t remember any more than that. You’ve just got to wait and let things come when your mind is ready to let them come. It will all come back someday and you’ll be healed. And somehow everything will work out between us. Nothing’s gonna make us be apart.”
He kissed her cheek, then left her to slip on his winter moccasins and his wolf-skin coat. He put a beaver hat on his head and drew on fur gloves. He grasped a parfleche he had already prepared with food and water, then picked up a saddle and bridle in the other hand. He walked to the door.
“Open up for me.”
She hurried over and opened it.
“Slide the bar into the latch when I leave.” He kissed her once more. “This cabin will be a nice place to come back to tonight,” he told her with a wink.
She watched him leave, latching the door behind him and walking over to watch him from the only window the little cabin had. It was near the door. The panes were frosted and she scratched away a small spot so she could see. He saddled and bridled the Appaloosa and tied the travois to it. He threw his parfleche over his saddle horn and mounted up, waving at her before turning and heading his horse to the right of the cabin and down an embankment that led to a thick stand of fir and aspen in the distance.
Sax Daniels awoke with a start, his head splitting. The memory was vague and gray—a card game with Terrence Lowe and Johnny White, to keep them busy. He’d kept an eye on them the whole day before and into the night, until they both had finally fallen asleep. Sax had gone to bed himself then, stretching out on a bedroll in front of the fireplace.
Now as he sat up, his head screamed with pain. Why did it hurt so bad? He remembered dreaming someone had hit him. He put a hand to the back of his head to feel a huge bump. His fingers sensed a scabby part, and the whole area was tender.
He frowned, standing up then in spite of the pain. It hadn’t been a dream at all. It had been real! He stumbled to the bunk room where Lowe and White had retired. They were gone, along with all their gear, and Sax’s rifle.
“Sons of bitches,” he grumbled. He stumbled to the door, opening it and going out into the bitterly cold air. Their horses were gone, but he could see no tracks. “Must have clobbered me and left during the night,” he grumbled. “The snow’s already covered their tracks.”
He was too dizzy and the snow was too deep for him to try to follow them. Besides, he reasoned, since they were new to the area, it was highly unlikely they would ever find the cabin. It would take an extreme stroke of good luck.
“The bastards will probably die up there anyway,” he muttered. “I hope they freeze to death!”
He couldn’t leave till Jim Bridger got back, which would be any time now. By then he would feel better and he would find those men—and his rifle they had stolen. He would use that rifle on those two bastards, if Sage MacKenzie didn’t run into them and kill them first.
“Go ahead and try to find him,” he shouted into the empty distance, his words lost in the vast expanse of snow. “You’ll learn not to mess with Sage MacKenzie, you sons of bitches! Touch his woman and you’ll wish to hell you was back here!”
He turned and stormed back inside, slamming the door, then wincing with the pain the noise left in his head. He groaned, moving back to his bedroll and sinking into it. He knew he should go warn Sage, but his head was spinning and everything was going black again.
Chapter Nine
“You’re a damned fool, Johnny,” Terrence Lowe grumbled. “We been out here all day stumblin’ around in this goddamned snow, freezin’ our asses off. And what for? Just because you’re hot for some woman you got no right goin’ after in the first place!”
“Shut up!” Johnny poked angrily at the fire to get it going better. He hunched his shoulders closer to the flames, throwing on another piece of wood and rubbing his hands over the heat. “This wood’s too damned wet.”
“I should have knowed better than to run with a hot-blooded kid whose pants get tighter every time he sees somethin’ pretty in a dress. We like to get ourselves killed over that last woman you raped, and I’ll tell you now, I don’t like the looks of that there Sage MacKenzie. He ain’t one to mess with.”
“There ain’t a man alive I can’t handle—or his woman. Besides, that Sax says they ain’t really married. She don’t belong to nobody. Why should he get to hole up in a warm cabin havin’ a good time with that sweet thing all to himself? We’re gonna get rid of that MacKenzie and have ourselves a hell of a lot better time this winter than we woulda had holdin’ out at that fort with a few scruffy men for company.”
“Well, if we don’t find that cabin soon, we’re gonna freeze out here and be wishin’ we was at the fort!”
Johnny shivered again. “It’s got to be someplace around here. I seen them head in this direction when they went past the window.”
“They could have circled around. There’s lots of places they could have gone.”
Johnny shook his head. “I remember that Sax sayin’ it was northwest of the fort. It’s gettin’ late. We’ll put up a tent and camp here the night—get a fresh start in the mornin’. We’ll head up that ridge there and take a good look around. A man can see smoke for miles in these parts. They’ve got to make a fire to keep the cabin warm. We’ll look for that smoke.”
Lowe bent over and picked up a small rock, throwing it as far as he could in his anger. “One night,” he grumbled. “One night, and we search tomorrow. If we don’t find the place by late tomorrow, I’m headin’ back. You can stay out here and die alone, for all I care. We don’t know this country good enough to be out here wanderin’ around in it like this. That Sax told us this land can turn on you any time, especially up in the mountains. It’s no place for easterners like us. We wouldn’t be here at all if you knew how to keep your pants zipped. We was just supposed to rob the place. Robbin’ don’t make a man so mad. It’s takin’ his woman that keeps him on your tail. And I’m sayin’ again that Sage MacKenzie ain’t one to mess with that way.”
“To hell with Sage MacKenzie. He don’t scare me the least bit.”
“You keep up that attitude about men like him, and you won’t live to be twenty-five. I know when to go for a man and when to leave him alone. That’s why I’m forty and still here.”
“Forty and lonely for a woman, you mean.”
“I’d rather be lonely than dead. There’s plenty of whores for what you want.”
“They’re no fun. They want it. It’s more fun when they don’t want it.”
Lowe just stared at him a moment, angry that he’d let himself get mixed up with Johnny White. He appreciated a woman’s company as much as any man, and he’d take one any way he coul
d get her, except when he knew it was too risky.
The woman back in St. Louis had been too risky, and now they didn’t dare go back there. Something deep in his soul told him this new woman was also a great risk. Sage MacKenzie was a man who meant business. It was not that he minded the idea of killing the man and having at it with the woman; it was simply that he figured Sage MacKenzie was a man who would go down hard if he was protecting that woman, and a man who got his vengeance when he could.
“Maybe it’s more fun that way, but only when you ain’t afraid of gettin’ a bullet in the back while you’re havin’ a grand ole time gettin’ your kicks. I don’t know about you, but that spoils it right good for me.”
Johnny just laughed. “A real man can do what needs doin’ under any circumstance, Terry. Back in Nashville the boys used to say I could get it goin’ and finish the job quicker than any man alive. There was this girl there we used to take turns with.” He snickered again, taking a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag, which lay beside him. He removed the cork and took a swallow. Lowe just watched silently. “That girl was somethin’,” Johnny said, taking another swallow of whiskey. “She said I was the biggest, too. The biggest, the fastest, and the best. She went crazy when it was my turn.” He turned his cold blue eyes to Lowe. “That woman back in St. Louis liked it. I could tell. And this one will like it, too. She’s got fire down there. I know my women.”
Lowe stood up and went to untie the tent canvas from his horse. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. That looked like a good woman to me. But one thing you don’t know is men—and how a man feels when he figures a woman to be his personal property. You’d best start understandin’ that, or you won’t be long on this earth.”
He opened up the tent, sick of being cold and wishing he were back at the fort. He hoped they found nothing the next day. Maybe then he could talk his stupid young partner into going back to the fort. Neither one of them had any business being out here—no business at all.
Sage pulled Mary close, kissing her neck. It had been a good day. He had collected lots of wood and would spend another day cutting tomorrow. He had come home to fresh, hot bread and fresh coffee, and a pot of dumplings and pork left over from supper still simmered over the fire.
What man could ask for more than this? The cabin was warm and the snow had stopped falling, giving the horses a chance to paw through it while it was still fresh and fluffy in order to find enough grass to nibble on. Just as he had hoped, they had stayed near the cabin and the cliff wall, where there was hardly any wind at all. If they would stay around just long enough for him to get more wood, that was all he needed.
“So, it’s Mary, is it?” he asked, rising up on one elbow and looking down at her. They both lay naked under the blankets, waiting for their full stomachs to settle. “Mary what? Doesn’t anything come to mind?”
He watched the violet eyes, saw her struggle to remember more. Then she just looked at him, sighing and pouting. Sage laughed lightly.
“It’s all right. It will probably come in its own time, just like everything else has. Maybe you won’t remember everything, but I bet you’ll be talking soon, saying everything, carrying on a regular conversation.”
She smiled, reaching up and fingering his beard. She pulled at it then, making him wince.
“Ouch!” He rubbed at the spot. “What was that for?”
She ran her fingers over her own smooth cheeks, then tugged at his beard again. Sage frowned. “You want me to shave it off?”
She nodded.
Sage rubbed at the thick growth. “Well, I’ll make a deal with you. You let me keep this till spring, and if we’re still…” He sighed, again worried about what would happen when she recovered her full memory. “If we’re still together and everything works out, I’ll shave it off. Right now it’s kind of handy. Helps keep me warm, keeps me from getting frostbitten. You understand? Most men up here in the mountains have beards in winter. If I’m still in this area next winter, I’ll probably grow another one. You know what I’m saying?”
She smiled softly and nodded. She petted the beard lovingly then, as though to assure him she didn’t really mind it that much.
“Besides, I can tell it tickles you sometimes,” he teased, moving down then to kiss her breasts, then her belly.
She drew up her knees, actually laughing out loud then. Her laughter slowly faded, turning to passion as the teasing turned to lovemaking, the tickling to tasting and caressing. He made her feel so wonderful. How she loved this big, burly man with hair on his face who called himself Sage MacKenzie. With Sage she was never afraid, never worried about the strange fears that lurked in the corners of her mind. She was so safe and loved here in this cabin with this man who was so strong and protective.
He moved on top of her, and she parted her legs willingly. She loved making him feel good, loved watching the pleasure in his eyes, loved letting him be a man. It was all so good and right. He was never going to go away again. He had promised her, and she believed him. She ran her slender fingers over the hard muscle of his arms and shoulders. His chest was broad and solid. Everything about him was hard and strong, and she knew that nothing could hurt her as long as Sage was around.
He surged inside her, moving rhythmically. She arched up to him, taking him in sweet abandon, innocent of what might be wrong about it. How could this be wrong, pleasing this man who loved her and whom she loved? There was something terrible in her past, but she didn’t know what it was. She only knew there was this man who had rescued her, protected her, loved her. She was safe in this little cabin, and she hoped they could stay here forever.
His life surged into her, and she reached up and pulled him down to embrace him and she felt him relax against her. “Mary…love Sage,” she told him then.
He kissed her cheek. “And Sage loves Mary.” He petted her hair, turning and letting her nestle into his shoulder. “I’ll always love you, Mary, no matter what happens now, no matter what lies in your past. I’ll always love you.”
Mary walked outside to shake out the blankets and bedrolls. Sage had left early. He had gone far out of sight again, but she was not afraid. He had come back the day before, and he would come back again.
The sun was shining, and the fresh, white snow almost blinded her. She strained to see which way he had gone, but it hurt her eyes too much. She rolled up the blankets in her arms and went back inside, closing the door so that the wooden latch fell into place but failing to slide the wooden locking bar into the steel bar, which would have made it impossible to open the door. She spread out the bedrolls and blankets, then poured heated water into a pan and proceeded to wash herself. She wanted to be clean and fresh when Sage returned.
She slipped on one of the few dresses she owned, which, like the others, was too big for her. She ran a brush through her hair, then drew the long, black tresses behind her head and tied the hair tightly with a ribbon at the base of her neck.
She poured herself a cup of coffee then. She sat down on one of the upended logs Sage had brought in to use as chairs, then smiled as she ran her hand along their makeshift table. It was fashioned from both sides of a long, split log, which had been laid out side by side and held together by an upended log in the center.
She sat down and stared at the tin plate Sage had used that morning for breakfast. Again she sensed she had known a life better than this. She could vaguely see a house, a very big house. And there was a grand table, with many chairs and a lace tablecloth. Again an unexpected memory had come, but it had no meaning for her. It didn’t really matter anyway. She liked this crude table Sage had made.
She felt full of him, full of love. What a happy, peaceful life they could have here together. She felt torn between wanting to remember her past and hoping she never would. She never wanted to hurt Sage if she could help it. She wondered again why she thought her name was Mary, and was surprised at still another returning memory and function.
She suddenly wished she had some yarn, someth
ing she could knit. She hadn’t thought about knitting until this moment. How did she know about knitting? It certainly was not anything a man like Sage MacKenzie or his friends talked about. She hadn’t seen any of the women on the wagon train back at the fort knitting. Yet suddenly it was on her mind, and she craved some yarn. It would make the day go by so much more quickly. And she wanted that more than anything, for that meant Sage would return. He would have to leave her this way for several more days in a row until there was enough wood stacked in and near the cabin to last them a while.
She picked up the pan of water and carried it outside, throwing it out and watching a little rise of steam where the warm water hit the snow. She turned to go back inside, and it was then she felt an odd sensation, as though she were being watched. She looked back and saw nothing. She couldn’t think far enough to determine why she should feel this way, why there was this odd fear. She reminded herself Sage was out there somewhere. She didn’t have to be afraid anymore.
She went back inside, again closing only the wooden latch that held the door shut but could be opened from either side. She set down the pan, adding more warm water to wash the dishes in it. She decided that whenever Sage went for more supplies, or if someone came to the cabin to see about supplies, she’d find out if she could get some yarn. All she had to do was figure out how to tell him.
She decided she really ought to try harder to speak. She could not imagine why her mouth would not form words. Was it because to speak meant fully facing reality? What was the reality she could not face?
She picked up the plates and slid them into the warm water, again feeling an odd chill. She washed the dishes and laid them out neatly on a towel on the table. It was then she heard a footstep on the porch. Sage! Was something wrong? Sage had come back. She hurried to the door and flung it open, then gasped and felt faint when she saw two strange men standing there.
Sweet Mountain Magic Page 13
