The Touch of Sage (4 page)

Bullet was desperate. He continued pulling against the rope in an effort to escape.
Sage, flat on her stomach on the porch
,
shouted,
“
Bullet!
”
The dog kept pulling. Her arm was so outstretched with the dog
’
s pull on the rope, she could not even begin to lift or right herself.

“
Here, boy!
”
she heard the stranger command with a shrill whistle.
“
Bullet!
Here.
”
Sage looked to see the dog immediately cease his barking and attempted escape. He straightened his ears as much as they would straighten and looked to the stranger.

“
Here, Bullet,
”
the stranger repeated, his voice deep and commanding.
As the dog came toward the man, the rope slackened. Sage
’
s hand quit turning purple.
Sage felt the stranger
’
s strong hands, one at her elbow and one at her waist
,
as he helped her to her feet.

“
You all right, miss?
”
the stranger asked.

“Yes. I-
I…
”
Sage stammered.
Perhaps it was the sound of Sage
’
s voice, or perhaps the fact the dog was incapable of remaining c
alm for more than a few seconds—
whatever the reason, Bullet suddenly bolted round one of the stranger
’
s legs and through his knees again.
This retightened the slack in the rope.
Furthermore, the rope was now entwined around one of the stranger
’
s legs as well.
Before Sage could utter another word, she felt her body slam into the solid mass of the stranger
’
s, his chin meeting brutally
with her forehead. Horrified—
embarrassed beyond d
escription—
Sage looked up into the stranger
’
s handsome face.

“
Mighty unruly pup ya got there,
”
the stranger mumbled a moment before Bullet
’
s tug on the rope sent the man stumbling backward, taking Sage with him.
Sage heard herself scream as the man lost his footing and fell flat on his back, pulling her down on top of him.

“
I
’
m so sorry,
”
she began to apologize as she watched the stranger grimace.
No doubt the fall, coupled with the weight of Sage
’
s body on his
,
caused him great discomfort.
To make matters wor
se, Bullet now stood over them—
happily licking the man
’
s face.
The
man did not explode with anger—
simply reached to his side and pulled a knife from his boot.
Awkwardly
,
he reached down and cut the rope twisted around his leg.

Once he had unwound the rope from about his leg, the man tossed it at the dog and said,
“
Take care of yer business, boy.
”
Bullet bounded off as happy as any dog could be.

“
Oh, no, no, no!
”
Sage argued.
“
He
’
ll go off and find Mr. Simmons
’s
lady dog and then…
”

“
Then Mr. Simmons will have a new litter, won
’
t he?
”
the stranger stated, smiling as he looked at Sage.
Sage was enchanted by his charming smile for a moment before realizing she still lay tangled up on the porch with a strange man.
Gasping
,
she struggled to her feet, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek as the man then slowly stood.
Sage removed the rope from her wrist, wishing she could simply disappear and not have to face such an uncomfortable situation.
She had never been so physically intimate with a man
—
especially a complete stranger!
The humiliation of it all
turned her cheeks
ripe as a late summer tomato.

“
Ya busted yer lip there, miss,
”
he said.
“
Probably when ya hit my knee fallin
’
down so hard.
”

Embarrassed and thinking the situation couldn
’
t possibly get any worse, Sage touched the corner of her mouth with her fingers.
Yep.
She was bleeding.
She pressed the wound with the hem of her apron.

“
I
’
m so sorry about all this
,
Mr
.
…Mr
.
…
”
she stammered.

“
Mitchell,
”
the man answered, still frowning at her.

“
He
’
s just a pup
,
and he gets so excited,
”
she explained.

“
Ya sure yer all right, miss?
”
the man asked.

“
Oh, yes.
I
’
m fine.
Thank you.
”
Feeling very self-conscious as the stranger stared at her disbelieving, she ventured,
“
How
’
bout you?
”

Mr. Mitchell
smiled—
chuckled a bit.
“
Oh, I
’
m just fine, ma
’
am.
”

“
What can I do for you, Mr. Mitchell?
”
Sage ventured, blushing under his gaze.

“
Well,
”
he began, studying Sage from head to toe, his amused grin broadening,
“t
he sign says this is Willow
s’
s Boardin
’
House.
”

“
Yes, sir.
I
’
m Sage Willows.
”

“
Oh.
Then I
’
m pleased to meet ya, Mrs. Willows.
”
Mr. Mitchell offered a hand to Sage. As she took it, she instantly wished she hadn
’
t accepted his friendly greeting of a handshake. As he grasped her hand firmly, it seemed as though some strange unseen source of heat traveled from Sage
’
s hand, up the length of her arm
,
and into her bosom.

“
Miss
Willows,
”
she corrected him, releasing his hand as quickly as she could.

“
Oh,
”
he said.
“
Pleased to meet ya,
Miss
Willows.
”
The m
an stooped to pick up his hat,
which had fallen to the porch during the ruckus with Bullet.
“
I
’
m lookin
’
for Eugenia Smarthing.
”

“
Oohhh!
”
Sage exclaimed.
“
You must be her nephew up from
Santa Fe
.
”
Sage smiled.
“
She
’
s been so excited about your comin
’
.
All we
’
ve been hearin
’ for weeks now is Reb this
and Reb that.
She
’
ll be so glad you
’
re here!
”

The man chuckled—
his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
“
Well, I
’
m mighty excited to see her too.
”

Sage looked at him, finding it rather difficult to breathe regularly.
“
So…you
’
re Eugenia
’
s nephew?
”

“
Yep.
My mother is Bridie Mitchell, Eugenia
’
s niece,
”
he explained.

“
Well…come on in,
”
Sage said.
“
I
’
ll run up and tell her you
’
re here.
”

Reb Mitchell nodded, but as Sage turned
,
expecting him to follow her into the house, he caught hold of her right hand.
Once again startled by his touch, Sage stopped and looked back at him.

“
That there
’
s one nasty rope burn, Miss Willows,
”
he mumbled as he inspected the red chaffing on Sage
’
s wrist.

“
Oh,
”
Sage said.
Having been distracted by the man
’
s presence, she hadn
’
t been aware of the pain of the wound until that very moment.
“It…i
t
’
ll be fine,
”
she stammered, slowly pulling her hand from his grasp.
“
I
’
ll take care of it as soon as I
’
ve fetched your aunt.
”
He was intoxicatingly handsome, this nephew of Eugenia Smarthing
’
s.
Sage felt a tremor of jealousy travel the length of her body at the thought of the way all the young girls in town would instantly take to fawning over him like a new puppy.

“
I didn
’
t telegram her I was on my way,
”
he said as he stepped into the house, hanging his hat on the hat rack near the front door.
“
Figured I
’
d just surprise her.
I hope ya don
’t mind, m
iss.
”

“
Not at all, Mr. Mitchell,
”
Sage said.
“
And please, call me Sage.
”

“
All right, Sage.
And
you
can call
me
whatever ya want,
”
he said.
Sage turned around, astounded more by the flirtatious intonation of his voice than by the implied intimacy of his words.
Further, her mouth gaped open slightly as he actually winked at her and added,
“
As long as it ain
’
t
‘
Mr. Mitchell.
’
”

Sage was completely unsettled.
The man had the manners of a saloon hound!
No amount of good looks gave a man leave to be so improperly forward.

Still, Sage w
as so undone by his flirtation—
by his pure attractivenes
s—
she was at a loss as to how to reprimand him. She could only gesture toward the parlor and say,
“Please have a seat…
and I
’
ll let your aunt know you
’
re here.
”

Reb Mitchell smiled as he watched the young woman run up the stairs.
He had unsettled her and enjoyed observing the consequences.
Chuckling, he stepped into the parlor of Willow
s’
s Boarding House.
The room was cozy with a happy atmosphere.
He was pleased his
great
-
aunt
had found a haven after her husband
’
s passing.
It was definitely a room meant
for ladies—
all ivory lace
and doilies, framed photographs,
and fringed curtains.

Reb
’
s curiosity was p
iqued
. How had a young girl such as Sage Willows come to be the proprietress of this house?
She seemed a pleasant gir
l and was unusually pretty. Yet
R
eb knew all about women—
especially the pretty ones.
Like every other man on the face of the earth, he had been the victim of their catty, vindictive ways
. H
e would ride clear of Miss Sage Willows.