It wasn’t until they walked inside the house where there was more light that Maggie saw what he was talking about. “My God, Sage, are you still bleeding?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Rosa, bring some hot water and some towels!” Maggie told the woman. “Sage, come down to the bedroom and get those filthy clothes off. And don’t worry about my dress. We have to get that wound cleaned up and bandaged.” She walked down the hall with him. Once they reached the bedroom, she helped him get everything off other than his long johns. She winced at the sight of a deep, ugly cut across Sage’s left side. “My God, Sage, a few inches to the left and you’d be suffering a gut wound—the worst kind!”
“Well, that didn’t happen, so you keep calm. I don’t want you losing that baby over this.”
Maggie quickly spread an old blanket over the bed quilt so Sage could lie down without getting blood on the covers. Rosa rushed in with a flask of whiskey in one hand, a pot of hot water in the other, and two towels over her arm. She handed Maggie the whiskey, then poured the hot water into a washbowl on a stand near the bed. She set down the pot and handed the towels to Maggie. “Señor Lightfoot, is my Julio all right? And my sons?” she asked.
Sage put a hand over his eyes. “They are all fine, Rosa. I think things are settled, but I left Julio and a few other men out there to keep an eye on that section for a couple more days. Your sons are on their way back.”
Rosa heaved a sigh of relief as Maggie wet a small towel and began washing dried blood from around Sage’s wound. She fought tears at the thought that he could have been killed today. “This should be stitched up,” she told him. “It’s awfully deep.”
“The bleeding has already slowed, and I’ve seen stitches lead to infection too many times. Just pour some whiskey on it and wrap it tight.”
“Rosa, go get some gauze,” Maggie told the woman.
“Sí.”
Rosa hurried out, and Maggie paused to study Sage’s angry eyes. “What is going on?” she asked. “What happened out there?”
Sage sighed deeply. “Just get this wound cleaned up.” He reached out and lightly touched her fast-growing belly. “How’s that baby doing?”
“He or she is doing just fine.” Maggie frowned and began washing off more blood. “And you deliberately avoided my question. I asked you what happened. Why did you answer by asking how the baby is?”
Sage glanced at Rosa, who came in just then with the gauze. “Rosa, you should leave for a bit. I need to talk to Maggie. Thanks for bringing everything.”
“Sí, señor.” Rosa put a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “If you need my help, I will be in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Rosa.”
Frowning with concern, Rosa left, closing the door behind her.
Maggie washed off more blood, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside Sage. She took a clean towel and pressed it against the wound. “Tell me what’s going on while I make sure all the bleeding has stopped,” she told Sage.
He studied her lovingly, obviously hesitant to say what he had to say. “Give me a swallow of that whiskey first. I could use it, and not just for the pain.”
Frowning, Maggie took the flask from where she’d laid it on the bed and handed it to Sage. He uncorked it and raised it, taking a long swallow. “Pour some of this on the wound, and then press the towel against it again.”
Maggie obeyed, feeling sorry for the way Sage jumped and grunted when the alcohol stung his side. She recorked the flask and pressed the towel against the wound again. “Why do I have a feeling this involves me and the baby again?” she asked Sage.
He grasped her arm gently. “I’m afraid it does.”
Maggie closed her eyes and looked away.
“Don’t do that, Maggie. It’s just a fact.” He squeezed her arm. “Remember those visitors who came by about a month ago—that damn preacher and that woman who claimed to be Jimmy Hart’s mother? You never met them, but I told you about them the day I caught that mare.”
Maggie met his gaze. “This has something to do with them?”
Sage pushed some of his hair off his forehead. “Yeah. They came back, this time with men they claimed to be the law—said that northeast section didn’t belong to me legally, and they were going to open it to public grazing because of the drought. They even brought some of Grayson’s men and cattle with them to let them graze on my land.”
Maggie hesitated. “Can they do that?”
“Not in my book! And not when they are lying. It took me about one minute to figure it was a hoax. I recognized one of the men with them. He was there that day—up at Hole-in-the-Wall the day I rescued you. I don’t even know his name. I just remembered his face, and I put it all together real quick. He’s apparently the one who told Elvira Hart about the shoot-out that day—and that I killed Jimmy up there. He saw an opportunity for him and his outlaw friends to steal some of my cattle off that section and claim the law was removing them. Elvira Hart must have cooked up the whole plan to try to bully me into bringing her to see you—said the law would leave me alone if I cooperated.”
Maggie closed her eyes and struggled against tears. “Oh, Sage, all this has caused you so much trouble.”
“You and the baby are innocent of all of this, Maggie, and you are my wife. You aren’t the one causing trouble. It’s other people, people who think that just because of how this baby was conceived, you should be willing to give it away with no feelings. They don’t know how we both feel.”
Maggie couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek. “I don’t understand how a man like you, who is so rough around the edges and built this place with a bunch of outlaws…I mean…men who don’t generally care much about babies and all that…how you can take in this baby like it’s your own.”
“Stop it, Maggie!” Sage moved a little and winced with pain again. “We’ve had this conversation more than once. You know damn well I’ll never let another kid feel like I did when I was made an outcast. And this baby belongs to the woman I love, which makes it even more important that I protect it…and protect Paradise Valley. Our baby will bear my name and everything that goes with it.”
Maggie smiled through her tears. Our baby. What better assurance could she have that Sage would always think of him or her as his own? She pulled the towel away to see the blood from the wound was coagulating. “Sit up so I can wrap this wound,” she told him as she got off the bed and reached out to help him up.
Sage obeyed, grimacing with pain as he managed to move to the edge of the bed. “Who shot you?” Maggie asked. “Was anyone else hurt?”
“No one but the man I’d recognized from Hole-in-the-Wall. He’s dead.”
Maggie met his gaze. “You?”
Sage grunted as he scooted farther back on the bed. “Who else? Once he knew I recognized him, he went for his gun. I pulled mine and shot him, but he shot wildly as he went down, and it grazed my side. One other man started to draw, but Joe Cable warned him it was a bad idea. My men had them surrounded, rifles and guns drawn. And in spite of being shot, I landed into that preacher, something I sorely wanted to do the first time he came around. I guess my anger overcame my concern over being shot and the fact I was bleeding like a stuck pig. It felt damn good to land a fist into that sonofabitch’s face! He didn’t look too good by the time I finished with him, and I told that fake bastard that if he comes back here one more time, he’ll be having throat trouble, if you know what I mean.”
“Sage, you’d hang him?”
Her husband shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt for him to think I would. Besides, I’m not so sure Joe and Bill and the rest of the men wouldn’t do it for me. They’re as mad as I was. That preacher and Mrs. Hart and the others left, taking the first man’s dead body with them. I still don’t know what his name was.”
Maggie shook her head. Only Sage Lightfoot would shoot a m
an he didn’t even know and not regret it one bit. She faced him, terrified this might not be the end of it. “What if they do come back, Sage, with the law next time?”
Sage reached up and made her sit down beside him. “Don’t be worrying about that. They won’t come back, especially not with the law. They broke the law, coming here and thinking they’d let those outlaws steal my cattle! If they truly could have come lawfully, they would have done it. That means they couldn’t find one damn judge or lawman who agreed with them. Mrs. Hart can’t win because no one can prove who that baby’s father is. Only God knows. Besides, that preacher is too afraid I really will hang him.”
Maggie quickly wiped at unwanted tears. Sage put an arm around her and kissed her hair. “It’s over, Maggie. All there is to do now is settle in for the winter and wait for our son or daughter to be born.”
Maggie nodded, hoping he was right. “Just promise me there won’t be any more fighting and killing over this innocent child,” she asked.
She met Sage’s gaze and saw only love and promises. “There won’t. I put an end to it today.”
Maggie wondered if she could love anything more than she loved Sage Lightfoot right now. He’d actually risked his life to protect her and her baby’s reputations. “Thank you, Sage.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Maggie, a woman doesn’t thank her husband and the father of her child for risking his life to protect them. That’s what any man would do.”
Maggie felt a weight lifted from her shoulders, realizing she’d been looking at this man all wrong, still thinking he’d leave her if he got tired of all of this. “You really do love me,” she said.
“Don’t tell me you still doubt that.”
“Not really. I guess I was just afraid to fully accept the fact that you love me, because I know it was hard at first for you to accept the baby, Sage. You can’t deny it. That day at Hole-in-the-Wall, I saw the look in your eyes when that man who had hold of me yelled out that I was carrying. I saw that little bit of surprise and doubt in your eyes. You knew you loved me, but could you accept my child? I don’t blame you for wondering. But after today…what you did out there…” Maggie rose and grabbed the roll of gauze from the side table. “I’d better get that wound wrapped.”
She reached around Sage’s middle and started winding gauze around the wound. She met his gaze as she did so, and Sage caught her face between his big hands. “It’s over, Maggie. They won’t be back. And when word gets out, no one within a hundred miles of here will ever doubt who that baby belongs to. No one is going to come snooping around here when the snows come. And once this baby is born, it will have my name. When you hold that kid in your arms, and I see the love in your eyes, I won’t have any trouble loving it, too.”
Maggie finished wrapping the wound and tied off the gauze. She leaned forward and kissed Sage’s cheek, not minding the dust and sweat there. She was just glad he was alive.
When she’d first met Sage Lightfoot, she’d thought he was a man not to be trusted, a man who wanted only what most men wanted. But he’d turned out to be so much more. He was all bluster and sometimes meanness and anger on the outside, but on the inside, he was that little boy who just wanted to be loved. The family who’d found and raised him had hurt him in the worst way. He wanted love and a family as much as any man would, in spite of the rugged, angry, uncaring demeanor he showed on the outside. Sage Lightfoot had a heart as big as the Wyoming landscape, and she wanted this baby as much for Sage as for herself.
Ten
Maggie stood back and examined the huge pine tree Joe and Hank and Julio had brought in from the foothills. Building a wooden stand for it and getting the tree into the house and safely secured had been a real comedy of errors, along with arguments and not a few cuss words. Once the tree was up, the men apologized for their impatience.
It was a magnificent tree, perfect for her and Sage’s first Christmas together. She and Rosa popped corn half the day just to make a long enough string to wrap around the tree fully, and Maggie spent the rest of the day tying colorful ribbons on the ends of branches. She’d made a straw doll with a red velvet dress to secure at the top of the tree for an angel. She thought how, if she had another baby girl, she would save the doll for her and tell her it came from Mommy and Daddy’s first Christmas. Just the thought of it made her love Sage beyond what she thought possible.
She’d decided not to use any candles on the tree, too fearful of fire. Memories of the horrible fires that visited the ranch just two months ago were still too fresh. It wasn’t long after the incident over the northeast section that it happened…a freak thunderstorm at a time when there should have been snow. Lightning had set fire to what was left of the dry grass, and high winds caused the fire to move so fast that there was nothing the men could do to stop it. The raging inferno took thousands of acres as it crept closer to the homestead, then consumed a supply shed and one of the barns, along with the precious winter feed stored inside. A sudden downpour helped save everything else, including the log home Maggie so loved.
Sage had been right. It was going to be a long, cold winter, and now an expensive one. He’d been forced to order more winter feed from Omaha, as well as lumber and supplies to replace the barn, which the men managed to frantically build before the dead of winter. It needed some finishing touches inside, but that would have to wait until spring. Sage needed a place to keep his best horses out of the worst of the wind and cold, including her own beautiful Patches.
The rest of the horses were doubled up in the remaining barn, making it a lot more work keeping stalls cleaned out and feed in the feeding troughs. On the days the winds calmed and sunshine warmed things at least a little, the horses were let out for exercise, but now the winds were high and the snows deep. The only good thing about the extra-deep snow was that it meant a lot of moisture in the ground for the next year. And sometimes a burn-off brought better, thicker grass the next spring. In that respect, the fires could be considered a blessing. Sage’s biggest worry now was if he’d be able to get a doctor from Cheyenne to the homestead by the end of January, in time for the baby’s birth.
Maggie touched her belly, which still seemed too big for being only seven months along. Was she going to have twins? Her belly was getting so big that she feared this child would come sooner than she thought, and if it came too soon, it would die.
She shook away the thought. It was better to think about the beautiful Christmas tree and the red shirt she was making for Sage. He would look so handsome in red. He looked good in anything, but red accented his dark hair and eyes and skin. She couldn’t imagine why Joanna would throw away such a good man for a fancier life in a big city like San Francisco.
Some people just aren’t cut out for this life, Sage had told her once. She supposed he was right. It was a hard life, that was sure, but it was worth it just to be in Sage Lightfoot’s arms at night, where she felt only safety and love. Thank God his wound had healed with no problems. There was nothing to do now but look forward to spring and better grass…and the baby.
Sage came inside, interrupting her thoughts as he quickly closed the door against a savage wind. He stomped the snow from his boots and pants onto a braided rug at the door, then knocked more snow off his hat and hung it on a hook before removing his heavy sheepskin jacket.
“It’s damn wicked out there,” he told her, walking over to the fireplace and rubbing his hands together. “I don’t want you going out at all—not for anything, understand? Not in your condition.”
“I won’t.” Maggie walked closer. “You actually have little pieces of ice stuck to the ends of your hair,” she told him, smiling as she reached up to pull some of it off.
“I feel like ice all over,” he answered, rubbing vigorously at his arms. “I’m really worried about the cattle scattered all over the place out there.”
“You’re the one who said we’d be fine even if we
lose several head,” she answered.
“I know what I said, but I still hate the thought of it.”
“We’ll be all right. I have to believe that.” Maggie leaned in to hug him. “And you know I’ll do everything I can to help in the spring.”
“You’ll be tending a new baby in the spring.” Sage stroked her hair. “How are you? I need to send for that doctor, even if he has to literally live with us for the next month or two. I’ll pay him whatever it takes.”
“Sage Lightfoot, you’re half-broke already.” Maggie looked up at him. “And there are other people who might need him. I’ll be fine. Having babies is a natural thing. Rosa can help me. And for heaven’s sake, how many calves and colts have you helped birth? Most of them come all on their own, and mother and baby are just fine.”
Sage gently pushed her away. “And sometimes things don’t go right, and mother and baby are not okay. And losing a cow or a mare is a whole different thing from losing the woman I love.” He bent down to kiss her forehead.
Maggie sobered. “Sage, promise me you will take this child in and love it even if something happens to me. No matter how he or she was conceived, they will be a part of me.”
“Let’s hope that’s something we won’t have to worry about. Either way, you know I will, and I’m a man of my word.”
“And that’s one of the things I love about you.”
He embraced her fully. “Right now I’m getting a little anxious to be able to hold you extra close again. Something keeps getting in the way.”
Maggie smiled and hugged him again as best she could. “I want the same thing, but for now you will have to settle for a slightly fatter wife. I hate to think of how big I’ll be after another six or eight weeks.”
“Fat is fine with me as long as you’re healthy.” Sage kissed her hair again. “And what do I smell? Is that pie baking?”
Maggie pulled away and took his hand. “Yes. Rosa and I will be baking pies for the next two days so we have plenty for the men on Christmas Day. We’re also going to cook all three wild turkeys the men shot for Christmas dinner.”
Longing for a Cowboy Christmas Page 14