“Good woman,” the doctor sputtered. “Surely you don’t think that she,” he pointed to Sage, “was responsible for these healings.”
“I do believe so, Dr. Folsom. Unless you believe otherwise. Sage is our hero, our savior, and we are celebrating her contribution tonight.”
The doctor took a step back and his head fell back as he looked toward the ceiling. His face was pinched when he turned back toward the table.
“I must set you all straight. It wasn’t Sage’s tonics that helped either one of these gentlemen, nor the Widow Samson. I have been practicing, developing with my own knowledge—my profound knowledge—better tonics. I replaced her tonics with mine, and it was my effort that saved them. Surely you could not believe otherwise.”
Sage gasped, Mrs. Allen smiled, Mr. Archer looked dumbfounded and Clint stood, took two steps toward Dr. Folsom, and punched him directly on the jaw. Dr. Folsom dropped to the ground with a groan, and when Clint turned back toward Sage, she was gone.
Chapter 27
“I thought I might find you here.”
Sage turned from her mother’s journal to see Mrs. Allen standing behind her.
“Oh, hello,” Sage said, flipping the book closed as Mrs. Allen took a seat by the bench. “I guess you’ve been to enough dinners to notice that I spend most of my time in here.”
She attempted a small smile as Mrs. Allen leaned back against the bench.
“Yes, I have. And I’m glad I found you. I wanted to have a chat.”
A chat? Nothing could hold less interest for Sage at the moment than chatting with anyone, Mrs. Allen especially. It wasn’t that she had anything against Mrs. Allen—although at first, she had. When it had appeared that her father was interested in the lovely widow, all of her sisters—her brother also—had worried that things might change too much, that her mother might be forgotten.
Mrs. Allen had shown herself to be genuinely concerned for their father, and also for the family, and those feelings had faded. But after last night, Sage was still smarting. And she knew full well Mrs. Allen had orchestrated the whole thing.
“Sage, I know last night was painful. Probably even shocking to you.”
Sage rubbed her eyes.
“Yes. Shocking is an understatement. I never thought—I couldn’t believe...”
Mrs. Allen reached out and rested her hand on Sage’s arm.
“I know, darling. I imagine it was quite a shock. But you must know that I had your best interests at heart.”
Sage just couldn’t muster up any anger toward Mrs. Allen. She was just tired and confused, and she did know that Mrs. Allen wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt her.
“How did you know that he would confess? I hadn’t been able to believe that he would do something like that. Not ever.”
Mrs. Allen paused and looked out over the ranch for a moment before she responded.
“Sage, you live in a beautiful place here. It’s wonderful. Believe me, I’ve been all over the world. Archer Ranch is something quite special.”
Sage stood and crossed to the door, leaning out and looking at the ranch she’d always called home. She knew it was special, but she sensed Mrs. Allen meant something different.
“The world is a big place. And in that big place, there are all types of people...not all good,” Mrs. Allen continued. “Your father, for example, is an extraordinary man. Kind, smart, concerned for other people. But not all men—or women, for that matter—are that way.”
Sage sat back down on the stool beside the bench.
“I know, Mrs. Allen, but I have to—had to—believe that doctors were different. I just can’t believe that Dr. Folsom—or any doctor—would take such risks, especially without the knowledge of his patients. They have taken the Hippocratic oath and vowed to do no harm. It’s just not possible.”
Mrs. Allen rested her hand on Sage’s journal.
“It’s not only possible, but as you saw first hand, it’s true. There are all kinds of people in the world, and you saw in Dr. Folsom a bit of the worst humanity has to offer.”
Sage shook her head, still struggling to admit to herself that Dr. Folsom would do that to patients—and to her. To sully her reputation for his own reward, and risk human life...he was truly not a good human being, as Mrs. Allen was saying.
“On the other hand, my dear, there are men who believe in themselves, believe in right and wrong, and ultimately believe in us.”
Sage took in a deep breath.
“Are you referring to—do you mean—”
Mrs. Allen laughed.
“I can say it, even if you can’t. Clint Jackson is a fine man. He has believed in you and your abilities from the beginning, and all he’s wanted is what’s best for his father—and for you. That is what respect, honor and—dare I say it—love looks like.”
Sage hung her head as Mrs. Allen stood and headed toward the door.
“I wanted to let you know that I’ve invited him and his father—with your father’s permission—to the memorial of your mother’s passing on Sunday. I do hope that you will join us, and that you think about what I’ve said.”
She smiled as she headed up to the ranch house, her dangling earrings sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun.
Sage watched her go, and slowly turned back to her journal. She took out her mother’s letter and opened it, smoothing the creases in the worn paper.
“Sweet Sage, I only mourn that I won’t meet the man who earns your heart, who shows you what love is and appreciates you for all that you are. On that day, know that I will be watching from Heaven, singing with the angels there in happiness for you. Make sure that he deserves and appreciates you, in all of your glory.”
Tears spilled from Sage’s eyes, dotting the ink on the letter. She wiped the tears away, folded the letter and placed it back in the journal.
Her heart tugged at the thought of all Clint had done for her—and in her mind’s eye, she saw his handsome face, his sincere eyes, his good deeds on her behalf—and knew that this was what love felt like.
“Thank you, Mama. And Mrs. Allen,” she said aloud as she blew out the lantern and headed up to bed. Although the events with the doctor still stung, she couldn’t wait to see Clint again and thank him for all he’d done—and that he’d believed in her even when she hadn’t believed in herself.
Chapter 28
Sage yawned and rubbed her eyes. She’d spent much of the week wondering about this evening, and how it would go. Spending Sundays with her family was something she looked forward to each week, and she’d been even more eager after Mrs. Allen told her that the Jacksons had accepted her invitation to join them.
“You’ve heard of the watched pot that never boils, I know,” Maria whispered in Sage Archer’s ear. Startled, she pulled back from the window and narrowed her eyes at their cook and longtime housekeeper as she let the white lace curtains fall back together.
“Yes, I have, but the Jacksons aren’t a pot and I’m not waiting for them to boil,” Sage said as she turned her back to the window, her eyes searching the now-empty dining room at Archer Ranch. Mere moments ago, her entire family had been enjoying Sunday supper. Where had they all gone?
Maria glanced at Sage out of the corner of her eye as she reached for the brightly colored ceramic platters she’d brought from Mexico—all emptied now of the delights they’d held—and nodded in the direction of the parlor.
“They’re getting ready to sing. Your father’s made a request, and you must accommodate him. After all, it’s almost the anniversary of your mother’s death and when she was alive, you had to sing every night, not just on Sundays. So, no grumbling.” Maria nudged the swinging kitchen door open with her backside and pushed through, cocking one eyebrow at Sage as she nodded her head toward the kitchen. “Go on. I’ll watch for the Jacksons.”
Sage took her place in line by the piano—her sister Meg’s husband, Sam Allen, was doing the honors today—and as they always stood from oldest to youngest, she w
as smack dab in the middle next to her identical twin sister, Saffron. Sage smiled and squeezed her hand—Saffron hadn’t been over much since she’d married Adam and had her own house now. She warmed as Saffron reached up and tugged a blonde curl that had escaped Sage’s hasty attempts at a bun and missed Saffron’s loving care. She’d left a hole in the family when she left, and it was nice to see her now.
It was all Sage could do to concentrate on the words to the song after the opening bars Sam provided on the piano. Her younger sister, Tarra, nudged her in the side sometime around the middle of the song and lifted her chin toward the front door. Sage’s stomach fluttered as dust blew past the window, signaling the arrival of a carriage. She glanced at the grandfather clock behind her father. Two o’clock. At least they’d only been a little over an hour late—not like some of the times when Dr. Folsom had emergencies out of town and didn’t show up at all.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, prepared for the stanza that was traditionally a solo for her and she sang it just for her mother. The way she’d always liked it every evening toward the end as she was dying. She knew it was her best rendition ever, and as she looked up, her father dabbed a handkerchief at his eyes and she knew he was thinking the same thing—missing his dear wife as much as the girls missed their mother.
She smiled and nodded at him, turning to the door where Clint would be standing now, having heard her marvelous rendition of her stanza. Her hope fell to disappointment as Mrs. Allen stood in the open doorway, her elegant dress swaying in the breeze that meandered through the parlor. Her kind eyes sparkled as she clapped her gloved hands slowly and nodded in Mr. Archer’s direction.
Her father stood and bowed toward his six daughters, all lined up in front of the massive beehive fireplace that graced the corner of the large parlor in the ranch house. The bench that lined it was covered in terra cotta tiles, the color a stark contrast to the white walls of the stucco home.
“That was beautiful, girls—er, ladies, I should call you all now,” her father said, his eyes misting. He walked the line, starting with Sage’s oldest sister, Rose, and kissed each one of them on the cheek, his warm palm patting each shoulder. Rose, Meg and Saffron were all married now, as well as their brother, Hank—the oldest—and it was a special occasion to have everyone together.
When Beau Archer reached Sage, his eyes twinkling, he brushed his hand through his black hair with just a bit of gray at the temples—which hadn’t been there before his wife had died several years before. He leaned forward and kissed Sage on the cheek, leaning in and whispering, “Don’t worry, my dear. They’ll be here when they can,” before meeting her eyes and giving her a comforting smile. As he moved down the line to Tarra and Pepper, the youngest, Sage turned and sat down hard on the cold bench by the fireplace, her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand.
Thunder rolled through the parlor and clouds threatened rain, even though it was late spring and not yet time for the near-daily rains of the monsoon season.
“You look upset,” Pepper said as she sat down beside Sage. “Your solo was very good, not like other times,” she said, goading her sister as she patted her knee.
Sage’s solos were always good, she knew, and this one was one of the best so she refused to take her sister’s bait. “It was great, and you know it. You’re just jealous,” Sage said as she tugged at her littlest sister’s braids.
“I am not. I can sing better than you. Heck, I can do anything better than you,” she said, running quickly into the kitchen as Sage tried to grab her braid again, this time to pull harder. She leaned back against the stucco wall, watching as her older sisters milled around with their husbands, moving back into the dining room for dessert. Maria had gone all out, making tres leches cake—it had been her gourmet chef mother’s favorite—and as this was the anniversary of her death, it seemed appropriate.
“Is the sour face because Mrs. Allen is here? At this particular occasion?” her twin Saffron said as she sat down beside her and offered her a piece of her favorite cake.
Sage took the plate and set it on her lap. “I beg your pardon?” she said, blinking slowly as she watched her father offer his arm to Mrs. Allen and escort her into the parlor. “Oh, no. By no means. Mrs. Allen is a lovely woman. Papa is very happy when she’s near. Well, most of the time.”
Saffron laughed as their father and Mrs. Allen moved out of view. “She certainly gives Papa a run for his money. I thought he had his hands full with all of us, but after she shot that horrid Jimmy Joe Walker who’d burnt down Olivia’s ranch before she married the blacksmith—well—I thought maybe...”
The cake was divine and Sage sighed with pleasure. “That was quite an event. Talked about at supper for days, I might add, but I honestly think Papa was quite proud of her after it was all said and done. My sour face has nothing to do with Mrs. Allen.”
Sage set down her empty plate after she retrieved the final remnants from her fork. “It doesn’t seem that Sam minds, either, that his mother may be interested in our father,” Saffron said as she glanced at her sister Meg’s husband, Sam. No one would have imagined that after she’d agreed to be a mail order bride for the bartender of the Occidental, their widowed parents would have taken an interest in each other. “What is it, then?”
She leaned back against the wall again, folding her arms in front of her. “I was expecting the Jacksons. Clint said he’d come for dinner, and—well—” Her voice trailed off as she pulled back the curtains again and stared down the long, dirt drive from the Archer Ranch gates to the main house.
“Oh, I see,” Saffron said as she followed Sage’s gaze.
“What do you mean by that?” Sage asked as she turned and narrowed her eyes at her twin. What could she possibly see? Saffron had always known what Sage was thinking, it seemed, ever since they’d been girls. She wasn’t quite sure that she wanted her to know what she was thinking now, though. Some things were private.
“I see that you are disappointed that he isn’t here. And I suspect a romantic interest in his presence. I’ve seen you two together, and it appears that you’ve developed feelings for him,” Saffron said, never one to hold back what she noticed about people and their feelings.
Sage held her palms up toward her sister, her blue eyes flashing. “I have solely a professional interest in him. You know I’ve wanted to become a doctor, more likely a nurse, and it’s been a wonderful opportunity to learn. Before I decide what I would like to do.”
Saffron leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she cocked a brow. “Professional only, you say?” she said as her lips tugged up into a smile.
“Of course,” Sage said, irritated. “Why would you think otherwise?”
Saffron covered her smile with her hand as she stood. “No reason, sister. No reason at all,” she said as Sage stalked over to the window in the front and pulled aside the curtains once more.
“Well, what have we here?” Mrs. Allen pulled back the white lace curtains and peered out front, one eyebrow raised.
Sage leaned toward the window and gasped as Clint, his father and Dr. Folsom came into view.
Each Mr. Jackson had Dr. Folsom by an ear as they tugged him up the drive. The doctor hobbled in tow, and his cries of, “Ouch, you’re hurting me,” made them all giggle.
“Well, that’s one way to get him to come to Sunday supper,” Maria said. “He wouldn’t come any other way.
Pepper laughed and Maria pulled her braid.
They all spilled out onto the wide porch as the Misters Jackson approached, pushing Dr. Folsom forward to the bottom of the steps.
“I believe that the good doctor has something he’d like to say to you, Sage,” Clint said as they nudged the doctor even closer toward the bottom of the steps.
The doctor rubbed his ears and looked back at Clint and Mr. Jackson. He turned toward Sage, his face red as a beet.
“Sage, I’ve come to tell you I’m leaving town.”
“Good,” Pepper said, and t
he rest of the group smiled.
“What else would you like to say?” Clint prodded, pushing the doctor even closer. He stepped in front of the doctor, taking the porch steps in one leap and stood next to Sage.
The doctor turned toward the elder Mr. Jackson, his hands flying in the air. “What else do you want me to say?”
“How about the truth,” Mr. Jackson said. “That you abused this young woman’s good faith and sullied her reputation.”
“I did no such thing,” Dr. Folsom said. “I am the doctor, she is a mere—”
Pepper leaped forward, a tomato in her hand. “Why, I ought to...”
She let the tomato fly, and it landed within inches of the doctor. She grabbed another, but Clint reached out for Pepper’s arm and held it still. She looked up at him, and he raised his eyebrows, nodding in Sage’s direction.
Sage seethed as she watched the doctor turn to walk away.
Pepper smiled up at Clint and placed the very old, very ripe tomato in Sage’s hand. Sage turned and looked at them both, her eyebrows raised, and then she laughed, narrowed her eyes and threw the tomato in a perfect arc, laughing as it splattered on the doctor’s hat. Tomato juice ran down his collar, and he turned and gasped.
Clint tucked his thumbs in the pocket of his vest as Sage took another and beaned the doctor right on the nose.
The horrified doctor turned and ran down the drive toward the metal archway and eventually made it off Archer Ranch, to the cheers of the entire Archer family.
“That’s right, you coward. You’d better run,” Pepper shouted as the doctor passed under the gates of Archer Ranch, tomato dripping from him as he ran.
Chapter 29
“That was really something,” Mrs. Allen said as Dr. Folsom faded out of view. “He certainly got everything he deserved.”
“And more,” Pepper said, to laughs all around. “Sage, your throw was the best ever. Got him right on the nose. I’m impressed.”
Sage Page 14