“Come over here.” It was more a stern command than a request. She obeyed, walking over and sitting down beside him. He took her hand. “You just quit worrying about hurting me, and quit telling me what I should do. I’m doing what I want to do. My life was headed for a change to begin with. The way I’ve lived is changing, and I have to change with it. Finding you has just helped me see that.”
Her eyes teared with love as he spoke. “And how can you think I would just leave you someplace?” he continued. “I know I did it once and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I didn’t know till after I did it how much I love you. Now I know—and I could never abandon you that way again, Mary. And when we can get to someplace civilized, I want to marry you. But in my mind we’re already married. I’ve made you my woman. By the laws of a mountain man, you belong to me—to Sage MacKenzie. You’re my wife, same as the way Indians marry.”
She looked at her lap. “You don’t think badly of me? Living here with you this way?”
“Why should I? I just told you—to me we’re married. What’s the difference, Mary, other than a piece of paper? I love you and you love me, and God understands we’re someplace where there’s no preacher.”
“But what if…what if I’m already married, Sage? It’s possible I have no right—”
“You have every right,” he interrupted almost angrily. “You can’t help what you can’t remember. All you know is the here and now—and we’re together and we love each other and want to stay together. So that’s what we’ll do. I can’t give you the best life, Mary, but I’ll figure out some way to make a living and keep you settled someplace. We won’t always be buried up here away from everything.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I love it here, in spite of the cold and the danger. I’m afraid to go out into the rest of the world. I don’t think I’m ready for that. I just want to be here, with you.”
“Then let’s leave it at that for now. Let’s just enjoy each day as it comes. All I know is I don’t want to be without you.”
She met his eyes. “Even if it means leaving these mountains?”
“Even if it means leaving these mountains.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Sage.”
She rose then, feeling sorrow looming on the horizon. “I’ve got to get in a little more wood,” she said then, taking down the wolf-skin jacket from a peg hook and pulling it on.
“Don’t be carrying too much,” Sage answered. “I’ll get well fast as I can so you won’t have to do the heavy chores.”
She smiled at his concern and went out into the still, quiet air. Walks Slowly and Red Dog were already out of sight, and the sun was rising higher, lighting up a mountain across the way into a rainbow of reds and purples and greens.
She thought, what a beautiful land this is. It had a way of growing on a person. No wonder Sage loved it. And she knew in that moment that whatever happened from here on, this place, this little cabin, these magnificent mountains, would live in her heart forever. This was something she would not forget; nor—no matter what her past—could she ever forget Sage MacKenzie, or stop loving him.
It was a full week before Sage felt close to normal. The claw marks still showed deep and red on his neck and chest, but they were fading on his face. By the ninth day after his attack, much to Mary’s objections, he was dressing and bringing in wood.
“We’ll have to think about going for more maybe tomorrow,” he told her, dropping a bundle of wood near the fireplace. “It’s been snowing bad all week and now it’s stopped again. You never know if you can count on the weather up here, so you take the good days and use them. Being sick can’t stop you. Besides, I’m not sick anymore.”
“You aren’t completely healed yet either. You aren’t strong enough yet, Sage.”
“Sure I am. Better to take this risk than chance being snowed in maybe for weeks and running out of wood. There’re no second chances in these mountains, Mary.”
She nodded. “I know.” She was kneading bread. It was nearly dark outside. She had decided to make her bread the night before and let it rise overnight, then get up and bake it very early in the morning before they left so there would be fresh bread when they returned.
“I tethered the Appaloosa and that black gelding,” Sage told her then. “Wanted to be sure there were two horses around in the morning.”
She glanced at him, still not convinced he had told her everything about the two men who had left the horses. The second one had returned, a roan mare, but it had run off again. “Sage, you can’t be out there in the cold chopping wood. It’s so strenuous, let alone picking it up and carrying it.”
“I have to start somewhere, Mary, and we need the wood. I have to take advantage of the weather. Besides, I need to get my strength back. I’ve been lying around too long. That can make a man weaker than being up and working.”
She sighed and returned to the dough, squeezing it and folding it. “I guess you know your limits.”
“That I do. I’ve had no one to take care of me all these years, so I guess I can judge whether or not I’m ready for something.”
She made no reply, feeling slightly hurt at the remark. Was he telling her not to boss him around? Was he regretting having a woman around?
After removing his moccasins and the buffalo robe, he went over to lock the door, then also removed his buckskin shirt. He looked down at himself, running his hand along the claw marks. They didn’t hurt anymore. They were still an ugly red, but they were dry and skin had grown over them. He walked closer to Mary then, moving around behind her and grasping her arms so that she stopped kneading.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just saying that up here a man can’t pay any attention to how he’s feeling, Mary—not when there are life-threatening problems involved. We’ve got to go for some wood tomorrow.”
She sighed deeply and put the dough in a pan. “I know. I just worry about you. When I thought you might…die—”
He hugged her from behind, bending down and kissing her neck and moving his hands up under her arms to gently caress her breasts. “I want to make love,” he whispered. “It’s been such a long time, Mary.”
She felt her blood rush warm, felt her body coming alive. This was the most aware she had been of Sage MacKenzie since he had found her, the most awake to what he was doing, the most alive and in love. She had wanted this but was waiting for him to heal, waiting for him to say when it was all right.
“Sage,” she whispered, putting her head back against his chest.
He remained bent over her, reaching up and carefully unbuttoning her dress. She felt hot and weak as he pulled it down from her shoulders and off her arms so that she was naked to the waist. He reached around her and grasped her full breasts, on fire at the feel of them in his rough hands. They were so soft, so full, like velvet. He pressed her against himself, moving his strong hands over her flat stomach and down, reaching inside her bloomers to find the moist welcome waiting there.
Her breathing quickened at his touch as with one hand he teasingly circled the nipple of one of her breasts; and with his other strong hand he gently probed secret places, drawing out womanly passions even as she stood there in front of him.
Finally! Finally they would make love again. How she needed this. How they both needed it. It seemed every moment was so precious. Every moment could be their last. And not one moment should be wasted.
He let go of her then, bending his knees and kneeling to pull her dress and bloomers off the rest of the way. They fell to the floor, and he kissed her bottom before rising again and turning her, pressing her bare breasts against the scarred chest and meeting her lips with a hungry groan. He parted her mouth, moving his tongue in ways that made her feel dizzy with passion. She wondered if he had learned these things from the painted women Red Dog had told her about. She decided not to ask. After all, he loved her now. Maybe he wouldn’t like her pryi
ng into what he had done with other women. She was his woman now, and that was all that mattered.
She could feel his hardness pressing against her belly, and when he left her lips she boldly kissed his scars, moving down and kissing his muscled stomach, untying his buckskin pants and unbuttoning his long underwear. She pulled them both down, feeling like a wanton woman, not caring if she was behaving like one. Ever since returning to the real world, she had wanted to know that this, too, was real.
She lay down, smiling, and reached up for him. He knelt beside her, bending down to taste her breasts. She wondered if there could be any greater pleasure, and she arched up to him, feeling a need to feed him, as though he could draw more strength and nourishment from her breasts. His hand moved down to again caress that secret spot that made her want him so, while his mouth lingered on the taut fruits of her breasts, and she felt herself opening to him in sweet abandon. Let him do what he would do. There might be so little time.
His lips moved over her stomach then, exploring every curve and hidden place, making her cry out his name when suddenly the wonderful explosion rippled through secret places in an almost agonizing pleasure, making her beg him to come inside her. He moved between the slender thighs, sliding his big hands under her bottom as he came down on her then, nibbling at her lips.
“Mary. My Mary,” he whispered. He reached down and guided himself into her, shuddering at the absolute ecstasy of the act. How he needed this. How he prayed she never remembered Terrence Lowe and Johnny White. Again the thought of their forcing her to do this filled him with rage, and he took her hard and deep, pushing into her, moving in circular motions that made her wild with desire, made her arch up to him in return. She didn’t suspect the emotional turmoil that made him so passionate. She only knew she loved him and loved pleasing him and finding her own pleasure in return.
They moved in rhythmic sequence, so perfectly in tune, all of it so right for the moment. Sage. He was so beautiful and strong and loyal. He had risked his life for her more than once. She ran her hands along the muscular arms and up over the face he kept shaved now for her. How utterly, utterly handsome he was, his eyes so dark, his hair clean and falling in natural dark waves to his shoulders, some hanging in his eyes now as he took her.
To Sage she was an angel, the most beautiful woman he had ever bedded, the only woman he had ever loved. Why God had brought him to this beautiful creature, he would never know. He could only pray he would not lose her. Mating with her, keeping her for his own, all seemed so right.
Rafe. Where had she gotten that name? She had not mentioned it again, nor had he; but both of them had wondered about it. Now, as he spilled his life into her, it plagued his happiness with a dark cloud. Rafe. He pushed deep, groaning as his love brought out the last bit of life. He relaxed then and pulled her into his arms.
“You belong to me, Mary. You belong to me—to Sage MacKenzie.”
“And Sage MacKenzie belongs to me,” she answered with a smile.
He ran his hand over her bottom. “We’d better get some sleep, especially if you intend to get up extra early and bake that bread first.”
She breathed deeply. “I need Old Guardian Clock to let me know during the night what time it is. I could always tell—” She sobered, meeting his eyes in the moonlit dark, suddenly hugging him tightly. “Hold me, Sage. Don’t let go—ever!”
He squeezed her tightly against him. “You remembered something else.”
She let out a frightened little whimper. “A clock—a great, tall clock with chimes. I called it Old Guardian. I—I can see the clock, but nothing else. Oh, Sage, it scares me so.”
She began to cry and he held her tightly, pulling the covers over them. “Don’t cry, Mary. It’s gonna be all right. We love each other. That’s all that matters. Get some sleep now. You know little things are going to come back to you. Don’t fight it. It’s best you know—best we both know. Now relax and try to sleep.”
“Promise me you’ll always, always love me, Sage, no matter what.”
“You know I will.”
“Say it. Say you’ll always, always love me.”
His eyes teared and his chest ached. “I’ll always, always love you, Mary MacKenzie. That’s your name now, you know. Mary MacKenzie.”
“Oh, Sage, you’re so good to me. I’ll always, always love you, too, no matter what.”
“I know you will. Come on now. Stop your crying and try to sleep.”
She clung to him, closing her eyes. But she could see it so clearly—a tall pendulum clock made of polished cherry wood. And she could hear it, chiming, chiming, chiming.
Deep snow inhibited their progress, but they trudged through it to the thick stand of trees where they had gone the day the bear attacked them. Mary could not help keeping a constant watch on the trees from every direction. She could still remember the awful sound of the grizzly’s roar, remember seeing it on its hind legs, towering over her, remember watching it trying to kill Sage. Now Sage chopped away at aspen. She knew it was hard for him, knew he still hurt. But he was determined to get more wood while they had the chance.
The day was a long, hard one, made even harder by having to walk the horses back to ease their heavy loads of wood. Mary wondered if anything was more tiring than walking through deep snow, wondered how Sage managed to stay on his feet, since this was his first day of really strenuous work since recovering. But he didn’t seem to be much affected. She thought what a strong man he was, a man made for this land and its rugged danger. She felt herself growing stronger, and was proud that he had compared her to the Indian women.
“You might have grown up in a fancy house, but it didn’t make you weak, Mary MacKenzie,” he had told her earlier in the day. “You’re a damned strong woman—surviving whatever it was that brought you here, surviving that bad sickness you had, surviving—” She’d wondered what he was going to say next, for he had stopped mid-sentence as though realizing he wasn’t supposed to say whatever was to come next. “Surviving this hard work, living here under such hard conditions. This sure isn’t any place for a pretty, well-brought-up lady like yourself. But you sure take to it, and you don’t complain.”
“There’s nothing to complain about as long as I’m with you,” she replied.
She watched him now, so tall and strong and handsome. They were so close, yet still strangers in many ways. What an odd relationship theirs was, loving each other without really knowing each other. He had been a loner all his life, and there were so many things about his past she was sure he had never told her. And she in turn didn’t know anything about her own past. It was as though they moved in a land all their own, and the rest of the world did not exist. He knew her, every inch of her, intimately. It made her blood run hot to think of it. And she knew him the same way. Yet they didn’t really know each other at all, except to share a sweet, delicate love that could be taken away from them at any time.
They approached the cabin with their loads of wood, and Sage noticed that the smoke from the chimney seemed too heavy for a fire left untended all day. Sage halted his horse and motioned for her to do the same.
“What is it?” she asked.
He put his fingers to his lips, taking his rifle from its boot. Her heart quickened with fear for him. He walked back to her through the silent snow. “Somebody’s inside,” he told her. “Look at that smoke. Somebody has built up the fire. You stay put till I call for you. Then bring the horses down.” He turned.
“Sage, be careful,” she called out in a low whisper.
He raised his rifle as a reply and moved sideways along the ridge, heading toward the cabin from the left side at the rear so he could not be seen. She moved her horse up and grasped the reins of Sage’s horse, holding them both and watching with a pounding heart as he crept along the wall of the cabin and looked around the front.
His own buckskin gelding was tied in front of the cabin. He grinned then, realizing who must be inside. He moved around front, holding his rifle
ready. “Sax? That you in there?”
He heard shuffling inside, and then the door opened. Sax Daniels stood there with a cup of coffee and a piece of bread. “I was wonderin’ when in hell you’d get here,” he called out with a grin. “Goddamn, you must have the best woman in Wyoming Territory—prettiest thing in skirts, and boy, can she bake bread! Hope you don’t mind, Sage. I helped myself. Hell, I’ve been waitin’ a good three or four hours for you to get your ass back here.”
Sage laughed, lowering his rifle and turning, signaling Mary to come down. “It’s all right,” he shouted. “It’s Sax Daniels.”
He watched her start down, then turned back to Sax. “You look good, ole friend. I haven’t had a chance to talk to somebody from the outside world in quite a while.”
“And look at you! Sage MacKenzie without a beard! I never thought I’d see the day! Must be that woman’s influence. Hey, I brung you some supplies. Red Dog came by and told me what happened. You look like you recovered all right. Hell, I knew no grizzly could take you down. And I’ll bet them two buzzards that come up here to try to steal your woman didn’t fare any better than that grizzly.”
Sage sobered, stepping closer. “Don’t say anything in front of the woman,” he told Sax.
Sax lowered his coffee cup before taking a sip, glancing around to see Mary was some distance away yet. “What the hell happened, Sage?”
Sage’s eyes darkened with the returning rage. “I was gone cutting wood when they came. I didn’t get back in time.” He moved inside, setting his rifle aside. Sax followed him in.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, Sage. Them two bastards clobbered me right in my sleep. By the time I come to, they were already gone, and I couldn’t leave because nobody else was there and I give Jim my word. I’d have come to warn you, but they left a lump on my head that liked to kill me. And I figured you could take care of them two easy.”
“I did, once I returned.” He turned dark eyes to his friend. “They died right proper—and that Johnny White didn’t die any too fast, if you know what I mean.”
Sweet Mountain Magic Page 21
