The Touch of Sage (2 page)

Yes.
There seemed no reason on the face of the earth for Sage Willows to remain unmarried and unhappy.
Yet
Eugenia knew very well why Sage remained unattached.
The poor child had married off the only decent men in the county to her sisters.
Those left were rather ancient widowers and tattered undesirables—men who had fewer teeth in their heads than Primrose Gilbert
’
s new baby, or who were perhaps younger but ugly as mud fences with temperaments and dispositions to match. Certainly, old Forest Simmons had proposed marriage to Sage several times.
Forest
was just that side of fifty, bowlegged
,
and smell
ing
of whiskey and mule apples.
Sage hadn
’
t reconciled hers
elf to the slop bucket yet—thank the h
eavens.

Still, it was wrong
—
unfair.
And it troubled Eugenia that such a darling girl should be left with such a lot.
It had troubled her so much that, in weeks past, she had spent quite a lot of time trying to fix on a remedy for Sage
’
s dull, hopeless
,
and romance-less situation.

But now
—
now Eugenia grinne
d impishly. For a possibility,
an answer
,
had presented itself just that very morning by way of a telegram she received from her niece in
Santa Fe
.
Th
e idea had set her mind aflame—
burning with mischief and pompous pride at having hatched such a brilliant scheme.

Yes
,
she thought.
It was time to address her niece
’
s request.

“
Ladies,
”
Eugenia announced, rising from
her chair
.
“
I
’
m out.
”

“
Out?
”
Rose and
Livie exclaimed simultaneously,
as Eugenia laid her hand
facedown
on the table.

“
Ya can
’
t be out. We
’
re not finished,
”
Mary scolded.

“
I know.
But I
’
ve somethin
’
to do.
I need to answer Bridie
’
s telegram,
”
Eugenia explained.

“
I
’
ll play your hand, Miss Eugenia
,”
Sage offered, slipping into Eugenia
’
s chair.

“
You do that, sweetie,
”
Eugenia said with a smile.
“
You do just that.
”

Chapter One

Sage gently poured water from a bucket onto the dry ground at the base of the little
rosebush
.

“
There now,
”
she said.
“
Your roses should take to bloomin
’
in just a few weeks, Ruthie.
”
Crouching down in front of the small tombstone, Sage reached out, letting her fingers tenderly trace the roughly engraved letters of little Ruth
’
s name.
“
I
’
m bettin
’
they
’
ll be smellin
’ like h
eaven itself this year.
”

She rose to her feet then, smiling at the tiny marker once more before stepping through the weathered picket gate and latching it securely behind her.
“
I
’
ll be back in a few days,
”
she said, more
to the air than to anyone else—
for in reality there was no one e
lse anywhere near to hear her, a
nd she preferred it.

Exhaling a heavy sigh
, Sage strolled a ways away from the tiny, lonely little gravesite, closed her eyes
,
and inhaled the fresh, sweet fragrance of the pastures.
Oh, she knew some folks might not call these rather plain grazing fields
pastures
,
but to Sage Willows they were the most beautiful and serene place on earth.

Reaching back, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting its length fall down about her shoulders and back.
The
cool, soothing
breeze
played among the silken tresses
. Sage smiled.
There was nothing—nothing but the soft breeze around her—
the faint trickle o
f the creek just over the hill—
the quiet hum of soothing bug music in the grass.

Inhaling deeply, Sage c
aught the scent of piñon trees—
of dry soil and sagebrush.
The fragrances of the pasture filled her senses with serenity, joy
,
and an odd feeling of freedom.
This was Sage
’s pasture—
th
e one near where the creek ran—
the one where Buck Smarthing
’s cattle had once grazed—
the one where little Ruth States had rested in heavenly peace for over forty year
s. How she loved the space—
dreamed of it in moments of despair.
She was thankful her father had kept his grazing lands, choosing to rent them to local ranchers when their family moved into town to run the
boarding house
.
She was filled with gratitude t
hat the pastures were now hers—
that she could continue to visit little Ruth, tend to her solitary grave, and find rare moments of joy and serenity in the quiet expanse of the pastures.

At last,
Sage opened her eyes and began walking toward the
creek bed
where she had tied Drifter
’
s reins to a small piñon tree.
The late spring rain was past due and the creek ran low, but Drifter seemed contented enough with one final drink from its refreshing water. Sage hooked the bucket handle over the saddle horn and mounted.

“
Creek
’
s a bit low, isn
’
t it, Drifter?
”
she said to the buckskin, leaning forward to stroke his jaw.
“But you wait and see. T
he rain will come soon.
Then you can get good and wet, and I can have a good cry.
”

Pausing to twist her hair into a bun once more, Sage clicked her tongue twice, nudging Drifter
’
s belly with her stirrups to urge him toward home.
As melancholy as the moment left her, Sage couldn
’
t help but smile, wondering what in the world the ladies
at the boarding house
had been up to during her absence.

Oh, how s
he
loved the widows! All of them—
even cranky old Mary.
Sage often wondered what she would do without them. Not simply because the money for their board at Willow
s’
s was her one source of financial means, but because they were her friends—her true, loving
,
and faithful friends.
Ofttimes it felt to Sage as though she had four darling grandmothers
to love and care for. And now—
now that her youngest sister, Karoline, was also married
—
the ladies at Willow
s’
s would be her only company.
Gifts of h
eaven they were, and Sage was grateful for them.



“
Ya simply cannot deal that way, Livie,
”
Mary was scoldi
ng as Sage entered the boarding house
by way of the parlor back
door.

“
I can so if I want to, Mary,
”
Livie argued.
“
It doesn
’
t matter how the cards are dealt.
”

“
It does too!
”
Mary argued.
“
If ya go and deal
’
em that way, they don
’
t get mixed up enough.
Ya have to give one to me, one to Rose, one to Eugenia
,
and one to yerself.
Then start it all over again.
That
’
s how it goes, Livie
,
and ya know it! They don
’
t get mixed up proper if ya don
’
t deal
’
em that way.
”
Reaching for the deck of cards, Mary tried to take them away from Livie.
“
Give
’
em to me if ya ain
’
t gonna deal
’
em right.
I
’
ll do it.
”

But Livie pulled hard too, attempting to retain possession of the deck.
“
I
’
ll do it, Mary!
It
’
s my deal
,
and I can do it whichever way I see fit!
”

“
What
’
s the matter, ladies?
”
Sage asked, smiling at the scene before her.
Her four friends sat around the parlor table
—obviously
engaged in a heated
game
of cards.
As Rose sat, twisting a stray lock of hair around one finger, Eugenia read a telegram she was holding in her hand. Mary and Livie were ready to tear each other
’
s hair out over a difference of opinion as to how the cards should be dealt.

“
She ain
’
t dealin
’
’
em proper, Sage!
”
Mary stated.
“
Ya know they don
’
t get mixed up good if ya don
’
t deal
’
em right.
”

“
I can deal them however I see fit!
Can
’
t I, Sage?
”
Livie retorted.
Sage shook her head.
As usual each woman made a legitimate point.

“
Why not let her deal the cards the way she wants, Mary
?”
Sage suggested.
“
Maybe the lack of proper mixin
’
up will turn out in your favor.
”

“
She
’
s spoilt rotten, Sage.
That
’
s all there is to it,
”
Mary grumbled.
Still, she let go of the deck of cards and sneered at her friend when Livie stuck her tongue out and continued to deal.

“
They
’
ve been squabblin
’
like children ever since you left, Sage,
”
Rose sighed.
“
It
’
s a plain miracle that we
’
ve managed to play even four hands.
”
Sage smiled, amused by Rose
’
s relaxed manner.
She sat one arm draped over the back of her chair, lounging indecorously
—
legs crossed and ankles showing for all the world to see.
Though an older widowed woman, the traits of the relaxed proprieties of the stage were still often apparent in Rose Applewhite
’
s mannerisms.
Sage loved Rose
’s free spirit—
for it gave her cause to feel free and somewhat rebellious herself, if only by proxy.

“
I
’
ve had another telegram from Bridie,
”
Eugenia announced.

“
Oh?
”
Livie asked
,
still dealing seven cards to each player instead of one card to each alternately.

“
Reb has agreed to take over the ranch,
”
Eugenia said.
Sighing, she folded the telegram and tucked it into her apron pocket.

“
Are you sure that
’
s what you want, Miss Eugenia?
”
Sage asked.
Sage knew that since the death of her husband
,
Buck, Eugenia had struggled with what to do concerning their large
cattle ranch
outside of town.
“
If ya sold it, you could make a mint of money.
”

Eugenia sighed again.
“
Oh, don
’
t I know it, Sage,
”
she admitted.
But her eyes twinkled as she looked to the young girl.
“
But some things are worth so much more than money, sweetheart.
And…and I want to see Reb happy.
He
’
s such a good and deservin
’
man. I want the ranch to be a success again too.
Buck worked so hard to see it to what it was.
”

“
I still think it was might smug of that niece of yers to write and even ask such a thing,
”
Mary grumbled.
“
Offerin
’
for her son to take over runnin
’
Buck
’
s business,
”
she said, shaking her head in obvious disapproval.
“
She
’
s just a
-
hopin
’
you
’
ll drop off and leave the ranch to him
’
stead of to yer own children.
”

“
Mary!
”
Livie exclaimed.

“
I
’
m just sayin
’
…it was a purty arrogant thing to ask,
”
Mary grumbled.

But Eugenia smiled.
“
Reb is a wonderful boy,
”
she explained.
“
He
’
s had some misery of his own of recent…and I
’
ve always favored him.
I
’
m glad to help him out and let him help me if he
’
s willin
’
.
”

“
Is he handsome at all, Eugenia?
”
Rose asked.

“
For the love of Pete, Rose!
”
Mary exclaimed.
“
He
’
s a boy!
”

“
Don
’
t matter if he
’
s a boy or not,
”
Rose said.
“
I still prefer to look at the handsome ones more than I do the plain ones.
”