The Touch of Sage (49 page)

Sage was entirely bewildered.
The soft fire in Reb
’
s eyes told her what was wrapped in the brown paper pleased him.

“
Go on, dear,
”
Dahlia said.
“
Open it up.
”

“
But
,
Miss Dahlia,
”
Sage began,
“
I can
’
t possibly
—”

“
It was meant for you, dear,
”
Dahlia interrupted.
“
I know that now.
”

“
Go on, darlin
’
,
”
Reb urged.
“
I believe it
’
s meant for you too.
”

Sage sighed, still puzzled.
She glanced at Reb again, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms.
Yet every other person in the room
was watching her expectantly—e
ven Reb.

S
he tentatively tugged on one loose end of the twine.
The twine
’
s bow gave way
,
and Sage began carefully removing the brown paper.
Almost at once, she realized the object beneath was a frame encircling a painting.
She smiled at Reb as an inqui
sitive frown puckered her brow—
a broad grin spreading across his face.

Pulling the paper away from the painting, Sage gasped.
Her breathing stopped, her mouth dropping open in astonishment.
The painting was a portrait, the image of a young girl of perhaps five o
r six. The child wore a simple
blue dress to match the sky blue of her piercing eyes.
Her hair was dark, parted in the middle and styled in pin-curled ringlets hanging to her shoulders.
Her lips were the softest pink as were her cheeks
,
and d
onning the sweetest soft smile,
she bore the overall appearance of happiness.

“
Who
is
this?
”
Sage asked in a whisper, though her heart had already answered the question of her soul.

She felt the tears in her eyes as Reb asked,
“
Who do ya think it is, sugar?
”

Sage looked to Reb
,
and he smiled at her, a thick sense of joy mingled with melancholy about him.

“
Here…on the back, darling,
”
Dahlia instructed helping Sage to turn the painting over.
“
Right there…on the lower edge.
Can you make it out?
”

Sage studied the back of the painti
ng. Indeed there was worn ink—
handwriting on the back of the painting.
Tears instantly springing to her eyes, Sage c
overed her mouth with her hand—
overcome with emotion.

“
R…
Ruth
Anne
States
,
”
she read in an awed whisper.
“
Ruth
Anne
States
—
aged 5 years
—
1839
,
”
she repeated, tears spilling from her eyes.
Turning the painting over once more, Sage gazed into the angelic face of little
Ruth
States
.
“
Ruthie?
”
she whispered, reaching out to trace the lines of the painting with her fingers. She could not believe it.
To know what Ruthie looked like in life, to see her eyes, her smile—it was something she
’d only dreamed of—
so longed to know.
“
Ruthie,
”
she whispered again.

She looked up to
Reb, his countenance so strong—so loving—
so loving of her.
She looked to the widows, all weeping and dabbing at their eyes with various handkerchiefs and apron hems.

“
Where did you get this?
”
Sage whispered, entirely awed by what she held in her hands.
Looking t
o the woman Reb had written to—
looking to Dahlia
she asked,
“
Where…where did you get this?
How did you come by it and…and why would you give it to me?
”

Dahlia smiled at Sage, tears still streaming down her face.
Her slight size and height gav
e her an air of being imaginary—
like a fairy or other mythical creature.
“
It was mine,
”
Dahlia said, tracing Ruth
’
s sweet face with trembling fingers.
“
And so was Ruth.
”

“
What?
”
Sage breathed.

“
I
’
m Dahlia States,
”
Dahlia said.
“
I
’
m Ruth
’
s mother.
I know she would want you to have her portrait, Sage.
I know with all my heart she knows who you are and how you
’
ve watched over her.
”

For a moment, Sage couldn
’
t breathe.
She looked to Reb, overwhelmed with the knowledge he had found Ruthie for her.

“
Reb,
”
Sage whispered, feeling
suddenly light-headed and weak—
overcome with emotion.

“
It
’
s all right,
”
he said, putting a supportive arm around her waist.
“
Yer just tired from the goin
’s-
on tonight.
”

“
Your Rebel wrote to me,
”
Dahlia explained.
“
He wrote to me of the girl he loved, the girl he wanted to love him in return.
He told me about you and how you
’
ve kept my Ruth safe and happy, well cared for
,
and…and how you
’
ve never let her be lonely.
”

Sage put a hand to her temple.
Her head ached with trying to take in
everything she was being told—
with trying to comprehend the lengths to which Reb had gone for her sake.

Dahlia smiled and reached up, taking Sage
’
s face in her hands.
“
That
’
s quite the beau you have there, darling.
And it
’
s quite the girl he has here.
Thank you, Sage.
Thank you for caring for my little girl.
”

“
But I only…I only kept her grave,
”
Sage explained.
“
I only…I only talked to her…to the wind.
”

“
She knows you
’
re there, Sage,
”
Dahlia said.
“
My very soul knows she does.
”

Sage looked to Reb then.
She could not believe it!
She could not believe Reb loved her!
She held in her hands the very image of the little girl who had once played in the sweet pasture grass.

“But
how did you…Reb
?”
Sage asked.
“
How did you find…all this…how did you find it?
”

“I love
y
ou
, Sage,
”
he said.
“
From that…well, maybe Ruthie led me.
Ruthie and old Forest Simmons.
”

“
Forest
Simmons?
”
Sage asked.

“
Seems ol
’
Forest Simmons has been keepin
’
secrets all these years,
”
he said.
Reb
’
s smil
e was warm—
filled with loving emotion.
“
When I picked up his lady dog and her pups awhile back…we got to talkin
’,
and he told me he knew Dahlia and her children when they lived here.
He knew where Dahlia had gone after Ruthie passed.
All these years he
’
d known where she settled.
Did ya know yer daddy bought that acreage…the land with Ruth
’
s grave on it…did ya know yer daddy bought that acreage from old Forest back before ya were born?
”

Sage shook her head, saying,
“
No.
No, I never knew that.
”

“
I sold the land to
Forest
Simmons…asked him to look after my Ruth
’
s little resting place for me,
”
Dahlia explained.
“
I asked him to take care of her for me…asked him to make certain someone always took care of her…until I could come back and be with her myself.
”

Sage
’
s mind was still spinning.
She could not believe it!
Ruthie
’
s mother standing before her?
How could it be real?
She looked back to the lovely painting of sweet little
Ruth
States
.
She fanc
ied the painting smiled at her—
Ruth
’
s eyes shining with love and happiness.
She looked up then to the handsome, wonderful man she loved—the man who
’
d found Ruthie for her.
Whatever had she done to deserve the heart of such a man as Reb Mitchell?

“
I wrote to the sheriff in the town ol
’
Forest
told me Miss Dahlia here had moved to,
”
Reb explained.
“
I told him the situation…that I was lookin
’
for the mother of a little girl buried here.
He knew right where to find her.
”

“
The sheriff…well, he
’
s married to my granddaughter,
”
Dahlia added, a quiet sort of laughter escaping her throat.
Her eyes narrowed with merriment.
“
When Mr. Mitchell
’
s letters began to arrive, I knew the time had come.
And then when his telegram arrived last we
ek asking if I would come here…
come to see you and tell you about my Ruth…well, then I knew it was time for me to go back to my little girl…make certain she knew I was here…make certain she wasn
’
t alone any longer.
”

“
But I
’
ve been here, Miss Dahlia,
”
Sage began.
She wanted the woman to understand her daughter had always been cared for, never forgotten.
“
I made sure she was never alone long.
”

“
I know, sweetheart.
I know,
”
Dahlia said, cupping Sage
’
s cheek once more.
“
The ladies here…yo
ur good friends at the boarding house
took me out to see her only just this evening.
Just as the sun was beginning to set.
It
’
s a beautiful space, Sage.
Just beautiful!
And…and your handsome cowboy hero has also assured me that when my time comes
—
and I won
’
t be lying to you…I
’
ve been ill
,
and my time is near
—
your Reb assured me in his letter that he can extend the range of the fence he built around Ruth
so
as to include my resting place next to her when I do go.
If…if that
’
s all right with you.
”