The Touch of Sage (14 page)

“I-
I wanted to apologize to ya,
”
he said.

Sage turned from him, trying to concentrate on the fire in the hearth.
“
For what?
”
she asked.
“I should be apolo
gizin
’
to you for saddlin
’
ya with a litter of pups.
Not to mention their daddy.
”

“
I
’
m a hard man, Sage,
”
he said.
“
And I don
’
t trust women, especially ones any younger than Miss Mary Farthen.
”
A soft warmth began to envelop Sage
,
and she couldn
’
t discern if it began
with
the blanket Reb had draped over her shoulders or
with
his attempt at lightening her mood.
She stiffened, however, when she felt his hands on her shoulders, coaxing her to turn and face hi
m again. When she finally did—
it was to find his eye
s smoldering dark and enticing—
his hair still delightfully mussed.

“
But I know yer just tryin
’
to be my friend,
”
he said.
Sage glanced away
,
afraid he would see the tears in her eyes. Her heart was pounding so violently she feared it might beat itself to quitting altogether.
His hand on her face as he cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him, nearly melted her into a puddle at his feet.

“
I
’
m just not used to bein
’
touched by pretty girls,
”
he said, smiling down at her.
Sage smiled, moved by his efforts to ease her mind.
He dr
opped his hand from her chin
.

“
So,
” she ventured, “y
ou
’
re a hard man, who doesn
’
t trust women…and you
’
re a liar too?
”

“
What?
”
he asked, obviously puzzled.

“
Milly Michaels can
’
t wait to get her hands on you
,
and that alone tells me you
’
ve been touched by many a pretty girl,
”
she told him.
“
And anyway…I don
’
t quite fit in that
‘
pretty girl
’
corral anymore, now do I?
”

Reb
’s eyes narrowed;
his smile faded as he studied her for a moment before mumbling,
“
Yer right. Yer more the
‘
beautiful woman,
’
type,
”
he said.
Again Sage felt tears fill her eyes
,
and she turned her face from him quickly.
How could he tease her so cruelly?
Or was he teasing?
The mad pounding of her heart caused her
to think perhaps he was sincere—
and that consideration caused her even more discomfort.

“
Look here,
”
he said.
She obeyed and looked back at him to see him point to a smudge of mud on his cheek.
“
I smudged it up…just so ya could brush it off again.
”

Sage smiled.
Sure enough!
A dark and much larger mud smudge donned his cheek.

“
Bullet wanted to go ahead and lick it off for me, but I told him I was savin
’
it as part of my apology to ya,
”
Reb said smiling.
Sage
’s heart softened—melted—
warmed like butter in a hot skillet.
As he took her hand
,
raising it and pressing it to his cheek, Sage felt her body begin to tremble with fascination.

“
Will ya give me another chance at bein
’
yer friend, Sage Willows?
”
he whispered.
Sage felt her breath increase to a rapid pace as he drew her fingers to his lips, placing a soft kiss on them as he looked at her.
“
One more chance?
”
he whispered again, rubbing the whiskers of his mustache across her tender fingertips.
“
And you
’
ve been pinchin
’
sage leaves again, haven
’
t ya?
”
Sage smiled.
It was true!
On her way in through the back door, she had paused long enough to pinch a sage leave from the plant in the barrel, savoring its fragrant aroma as she enter
ed the house. Still his touch—
the feel of his lips and the soft whiskers of
his mustache on her fingertips—was
too enthralling
,
and she pulled her hand from his grasp, brushing the dried mud from his cheek quickly.

“
Thank ya, Miss Sage,
”
he said, smiling at her.
“
I
’
ll sleep easier tonight knowin
’
yer home and safe…and not angry at me anymore.
Right?
”

Sage smiled.
“
Do you still want that stuffin
’
I owe ya?
”
she asked, stepping back from him.
His nearness was unendurable—
for Sage wanted nothing more than to throw herself against his strong body and beg him to embrace her.

Reb smiled at her.
“
Yes, ma
’
am,
”
he said empathically.
“
I need somethin
’
to keep me goin
’
while I
’
m raisin
’ all these dogs you
saddled me with.
”

Sage giggled.
“
You
’
re the one who cut him loose,
”
she reminded
him
.

He chuckled.
“
What was I supposed to do?
Lay there on the porch all tangled up with ya?
Folks woulda been talkin
’
for years.
”
Sage
’
s skin prickled with goose
bumps, delighted by the memory of the first moments she met Reb Mitchell.
“
I mighta had to make an honest woman of ya,
”
he added.
Instantly, Sage
’
s smile left her face.
She stepped back another step, further unsettled by his nearness and implications of intimacy.

“
I
’
m just teasin
’
ya, Sage,
”
he chuckled.
Then moving closer to her and lowering his voice he asked,
“
Still…if it came down to it…who would ya rather have make an honest woman of ya?
Old Forest Simmons…or me?
”
Sage felt her jaw go slack, her mouth gaping open in astonishment.
Reb laughed, his smile brightening the dimly lit room.

“
Oh, quit horsin
’
around, boy,
”
came Mary
’
s irritated voice from just beyond the parlor.
“
Just kiss her, dang it all!
”

Reb turned on his heels, startled by Mary
’
s sudden outburst.
Sage was torn between the conflicting emotions of being mortified at Mary
’
s eavesdropping and euphoric at the thought of Reb
’
s actually following the older woman
’
s order.

“
Mary!
”
Sage scolded.
“
What are you doin
’
?
”

Mary stepped into the parlor carrying a glass of milk.
She wore her usual sour expression and just about the rattiest old red nightgown Sage had ever seen.

“
What am I doin
’
?
”
she exclaimed.
“
I ain
’t the one standing here half-
neked in the parlor with a half neked man,
”
she grumbled.
Reb chuckled, but Sage was embarrassed beyond any ability to speak further.

“
Get on home with ya, Reb,
”
Mary ordered.
“
If yer too ignorant to take advantage of this situation any further…then yer just a
-
wastin
’
my time.
”

“
Yes, ma
’
am,
”
Reb said, still chuckling.
Turning back to Sage he said,
“
I need my stuffin
’
’
fore the week
’
s out.
”
He winked at her and left the parlor, retrieving his hat from the hat rack by the front door.

As he started to open the door
,
Mary grumbled,
“
Out the back, boy!
People might see ya if ya go out the front there.
Ya ain
’
t got the sense God give a cricket.
”

Still chuckling, Reb tipped his hat and said,
“
Good night then, Miss Sage…Miss Mary.
”
Then he disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen
,
and Sage heard the back door open and close quietly.

Sage sighed, uncomfortable under Mary
’
s disapproving stare.

The old woma
n sipped her milk for a moment—
studied Sage from head to toe and said,
“
Yer gonna have to pull yerself up by the bootstraps and go after that boy a little more vigorous, Sage.
”
Sage
’
s mouth gaped open in astonishment and Mary
’
s forthright advice.
“
Oh, close yer mouth, girl,
”
Mary said, smiling.
“
I know Rose and Livie ain
’
t the only ones a
-
dreamin
’
of Reb Mitchell
’
s kisses.
”
With that, she left Sage standing alone in the parlor so warm from Reb
’
s attentions she no longer needed the blanket he had placed about her shoulders.

Letting the blanket fall to the floor in a heap with her wet skirt and petticoats, Sage returned to combing her long hair with her fingers.
She turned toward the fire, smil
ing. Reb cared enough for her—
or at least
for her feelings—
to have waited until she came home so he could make things right between them.
It had been over six hours since she had left her basket on the front porch, saddled Drifter
,
and ridden off into the isolation of the rain.
He had waited six hours for her!
Six hours!
How Sage wished Milly Michaels could see her now, wished all the girls in town could
’ve seen Reb waiting for her—
draping the blanket around her shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. She held her fingers to her lips
—
the very fingers Reb had kissed.
However lightly he may have kissed them, still he had kissed them, and in
kissing them he had kissed her—
in a manner.

Sage sighed and, careless of leaving her wet clothes on the parlor floor, climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Any other night, sleep would be impossible to catch up with after such euphoric moments as the ones spent with Reb in the parlor.
But the heavy fatigue of expelling her heartache in the rain had weaken
ed Sage, and she did fall asleep—
with the feel of Reb Mitchell
’
s kiss on her fingertips.