The Touch of Sage

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “I agree with Rose,” Livie announced, picking up the card Sage discarded. “Why, if I were Sage’s age…I’d be at him like a bee to a buttercup!”

  “Afternoon there, ladies,” Reb said, stepping into the parlor. He was immediately puzzled, for every woman in the room went pale, their mouths dropping open in astonishment as they looked at him. “What kind of evil doin’s are you girls up to today?” Reb sat down on a large, soft chair near the fireplace, his mischievous nature aroused. Each woman, especially Sage, looked as if she had just been found gossiping by the preacher, and Reb knew exactly how to find out what was going on.

  “Miss Mary,” he said. “Why does everyone look like they been caught with their knickers around their knees?” He smiled as Mary straightened in her chair, the perpetual look of disapproval on her tight lips.

  “Oh, nothin’ too much to speak of, Reb,” she said. “They was all just talkin’ about kissin’ on ya.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Mary!” Livie scolded. Reb was quite surprised, yet likewise flattered. He knew how picky elderly women could be about handing out compliments. Furthermore, the look of pure mortification on Sage’s face was absolutely amusing.

  “Were they now?” he chuckled. He liked the old widows who boarded at Willows’s. He liked the young proprietress too, and he wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to tease. “Well? Who’s first, then?” he asked, stretching his arms out, beckoning for an embrace. The four older women erupted into delighted giggles—even his Aunt Eugenia, who knew what a little imp he could be. Sage, however, looked as if she might be ill. Sincerely worried for the young woman’s health, Reb directed his attention at a less unsettled victim and said, “Miss Rose?”

  He chuckled when the gray-haired lady blushed and said, “Go on with you, Reb…ya little devil!”

  He shrugged his shoulders and looked to Mrs. Jonesburg. “Miss Livie? Wanna do a little sparkin’ with me here?” She likewise blushed and shook her head playfully.

  “Miss Mary?” Reb said, looking to the more serious-minded one of the group. “Ya gonna turn me down too?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, boy,” the old woman grumbled. “I ain’t a ninny like the rest of them,” she said, scowling at him. Still, Reb saw the uncharacteristic blush warming her cheeks all the same.

  Reb sighed, feigning disappointment. “Well, Auntie…they’ve all brushed me off like last Sunday’s crumbs,” he said. She smiled and winked at him, all too wise to his ways as he stood and pretended to stretch.

  Taking a quick step forward and placing one arm across the back of Sage’s chair, he leaned down and said, “Unless yer willin’ to give me a try, Miss Willows.” He could sense her fear and anxiety and let his pride swell with knowing he had entirely unnerved her.

  “Rummy!” Sage choked, dropping her hand of cards to the table and fairly flying out of her chair and toward the kitchen.

  “Sage Willows! You ain’t got rummy!” Mary called after her. “Ya ain’t even got a set!”

  Reb couldn’t help himself. He had to chuckle out loud as the other women burst into snickering, delighted over his utter undoing of their young friend. Oh, he could definitely see how Sage Willows could amuse him—in one way or the other. It was a dang good thing he was beyond being dumb enough to fall victim to any feminine charms. Not that Sage used hers in any intentional manner the way other young women did, but if she chose to, Reb was confident in his immunities against them.

  Still, an odd something akin to sorrow pricked in his chest for a moment. Sage was a sweet little gal. She was nice, smart, pretty, and kind. It was a sad thing to think on—the possibility she that, having chosen not to marry, she might be lonely later in life. A vision of Sage standing in front of Ruth’s little gravestone, gazing up into the cloudy sky with the summer rain bathing her in its refreshing moisture, traveled through Reb’s mind, and he wondered—why hadn’t she ever married?

  Well, it was certainly no concern of his. Sitting down in Sage’s recently vacated chair, he picked up her hand of cards and said, “Whose turn?”

  “It ain’t yers, purty boy,” Mary told him, drawing a card from the pile in the center of the table.

  Sage busied herself in the kitchen thickening gravy, whipping potatoes, and removing the stuffing from the roast chickens before cutting them up. Her heart still hammered wildly from the scene in the parlor. How unlucky could five women be? To have the very subject of their rather silly conversation step in upon them the way Reb had just done? It had been completely humiliating! Sage could not believe Mary had actually told Reb what kind of thoughts Rose and Livie were sharing about him. The woman could be so infuriating at times. Sage closed her eyes and caught her breath for a moment as goose bumps erupted over her body again—the same goose bumps that spread over her like a warm rain when Reb teased her in the parlor. His teasing her about sparking with him had nearly undone her completely—for in her dreams, she had done just that—sat on the front porch swing, sharing kisses with Reb Mitchell. Sage sighed and tried to chase the dreams from her thoughts.

  Using her apron to open the oven door, Sage saw the crusts of her bread loaves were perfectly golden. Looking around and being unable to find a bread cloth, she once more used her apron to protect her hands and removed one loaf without any trouble. By the time the second one was out of the oven, however, she was hopping around, waving her slightly singed fingers in the air.

  “Ya all right?” Reb asked from the doorway. Instantly, Sage quit jumping around like a happy rabbit and smoothed her apron.

  Humiliated to be found in yet another ridiculous situation, Sage nodded and said, “Yes. Fine. The bread pans were just hot.”

  “Did ya burn yer fingers?” Reb asked walking toward her and taking one of her hands in his. He raised her hand to his face, frowning as he studied her fingers. “They look all right,” he mumbled. Then he smiled and held her fingers very close to his mouth, just under his nose. “Mmmmm. We havin’ sage in the gravy…Sage?” he asked.

  Sage swallowed the lump of delight budding in her throat at being so near to him and nodded. For a moment, the deep brown of his eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead so carelessly, the flecks of auburn among the dark whiskers of his mustache and goatee distracted her. Distracted her enough she almost forgot what he had asked.

  “Yes. And…and in the stuffin’,” she stammered.

  “Stuffin’?” he exclaimed, dropping her hand and clapping. “I do love stuffin’!” he added, rubbing his hands together with delighted anticipation.

  “That’s nice,” Sage said. “Now…now why don’t you run along and entertain the ladies while I finish up?” He made her far too nervous. She was sure she would end up ruining supper somehow.

  “Well, all right,” he said. “But yer missin’ out on all the fun.” With a quick wink and a smile, he turned and rather sauntered from the room. Sage breathed a heavy sigh, relieved to have the kitchen to herself again. Her respite was short-lived, however, for no sooner had she turned her attention back to the bread than she heard a knock at the front door.

  “Howdy, there, Reverend…Mrs. Tippetts,” she heard Reb say. “Afternoon, Winnery.”

  “Oh, for cryin’ in the bucket,” she mumbled, quickly slathering the bread crusts with butter. “Doesn’t anybody have anythin’ better to do today than to show up for supper half an hour early?”

  Reverend “Whipper” Tippetts, his wife, Scarlett, and Joss Winnery joined the residents at Willows’s for supper every Tuesday evening. Whipper Tippetts, a shorter man with light-colored hair, had been one of the greatest lawman in the territory until a bullet through his left leg had left him with more than just a limp. However, to hear the reverend tell the story, the wound to his body saved his soul—for it had given him a vision of heaven, and he had turned in a Texas Ranger’s star for a Bible.

  His wife, Scarlett, had been a fair-haired dancehall girl before she met and married Whipper. In Mary Farthen’s opinion, Scarlett wore far too much red o
n her cheeks and in her clothing to be a proper preacher’s wife. Still, she was genuinely kind and compassionate. A woman would have to be to put up with Reverend Tippetts’s friend Joss Winnery.

  Joss Winnery preferred to be called simply “Winnery” and was the tallest man in town. Dark-haired and broad-shouldered, Winnery hardly ever spoke a word. He and the reverend had been saddle pals for years, and when Whipper Tippetts became a preacher, Joss Winnery followed. Oh, he wasn’t the type of preacher Reverend Tippetts was—for Joss was shy and soft-spoken—but he could raise the roof for any congregation with his fine scripture reading and nice singing voice.

  Tuesday evenings at Willows’s were always something to look forward to. Sage and her lady boarders thoroughly enjoyed sitting in the parlor after supper, swapping stories with Reverend Tippetts and his companions. Normally, Sage enjoyed cooking supper on Tuesdays more than any other day. But today was different because Reb Mitchell would be there too.

  Arranging the stuffing in a pretty bowl, Sage hurried to finish preparing the meal. What if Reb didn’t like her stuffing? What if he didn’t like her gravy or chicken or potatoes? The thoughts caused a strange sort of trembling to begin in her bosom. And why did she care so much? He was just Eugenia’s nephew. What did it matter whether or not he liked her cooking?

  “Hi there, Sage,” Scarlett Tippets said, entering the kitchen.

  “Good evenin’, Mrs. Tippetts,” Sage greeted, smiling.

  “Anythin’ I can do to help?” Scarlett asked.

  “Oh no. I’m nearly finished, and then we can sit down to supper,” Sage told her.

  “Mmmmm! It all smells divine!” Scarlett sighed. “I swear you’re the best cook in town, Sage.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Sage told her.

  “Maybe that handsome nephew of Eugenia’s will be so smitten with your cookin’ that he’ll just have to carry you away to his own kitchen,” the woman teased. Sage couldn’t be angry at Scarlett—for she knew her friend meant well—even if Sage did get terribly tired of the reverend and his wife trying to marry her off to every new cowboy who rode through town.

  “Maybe,” Sage said, smiling. She knew the subject would die off more quickly if she just appeared to encourage Scarlett rather than argue with her. “You can take that plate of chicken and the stuffin’ out to the table if you’d like, Mrs. Tippetts. I’ll herd everyone into the dinin’ room.”

  “You bet,” Scarlett said, picking up the plate of chicken. “Mmmm! It really does smell delicious, Sage.”

  Sage smiled and untied her apron strings, tossing it onto the counter by the sink. Smoothing her skirt and taking a deep breath, she walked to the parlor.

  Even after seeing Reb fairly often over the past month, Sage still could not believe the entirely unsettling effect he had on her. As she entered the parlor to see Reb sitting in a chair on one side of the room—Reverend Tippetts and Mr. Winnery on the sofa across the way—she shivered a little when he looked at her. It was a delightful shiver—but a shiver all the same.

  He’s so handsome! she thought, releasing a heavy sigh.

  “Everyone ready for supper?” she asked.

  “Miss Sage,” Joss Winnery said, standing and offering his hand to her. “Thank ya for havin’ me to supper.”

  Sage smiled and took his offered hand, shaking it firmly. “Thank you for comin’, Mr. Winnery,” she said.

  “I could smell that chicken when I stepped up to the porch outside, Sage,” Reverend Tippetts said, smiling and patting his belly. “And if I ain’t mistaken…yer blessin’ us with some of that sage stuffin’ I like so well.”

  Sage giggled, amused by the man’s smiling eyes. “Yes, sir,” she said. “Potatoes and gravy too.”

  “Well then,” Reverend Tippetts said, patting his belly again with delighted anticipation, “let’s get to eatin’!”

  “Cards facedown, girls,” Mary instructed as she stood.

  “Well, just remember…it’s my turn when we get back,” Livie said. “You’re always cheatin’ me out of my turn, Mary.”

  “I am not always cheatin’ ya outta yer turn!” Mary argued.

  “Supper smells wonderful, Sage,” Eugenia said, walking between Livie and Mary, thereby interrupting their argument.

  Sage smiled and nodded as each person left the parlor for the dining room. However, when it came Reb’s turn to exit, he politely motioned for her to precede him. Sage nodded and stepped in front of him, walking into the dining room adjoining the kitchen.

  Everyone sat down around the table, and Reverend Tippetts offered up a blessing before passing the food around.

  “I hear that new baby of Primrose Gilbert’s is just a tub of lard and cute as a bee’s bonnet,” Rose said.

  “Oh yes!” Scarlett exclaimed. “That little boy is just the sweetest thing you ever did see. Whipper and I were out to the Gilbert place just this mornin’. Isn’t that right, Whipper?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Reverend Tippetts said. “That’s a darlin’ little bundle they got out there.”

  “And how’s your heifer doin’, Mr. Winnery?” Eugenia asked. Everyone in town knew one of Joss Winnery’s favorite heifers had taken ill. “I hear she was bloatin’ somethin’ awful.”

  “Yep, but she’s fine now,” came his answer. “Thank ya fer askin’.”

  “Mmmm! Mmm! Mm!” Reb hummed, suddenly. Everyone looked over at him as he said, “Sage Willows…this here’s the best stuffin’ I ever tasted!” Sage felt herself blush with delight.

  “Thank you, Reb,” she said.

  “No…I mean it!” Reb continued, “It really is the best stuffin’ I ever tasted…in my entire life!”

  “Well, Sage has a way with…with sage!” Livie said. “Haven’t you noticed that big barrel out by the back door, Reb?”

  “Never come in by way of the back door,” Reb said.

  “Well, that barrel is just ready to bust apart it’s so full of sage,” Livie explained. “And let me tell you, all of us sitting around this table are mighty glad. Aren’t we?” Sage felt her blush intensify as everyone nodded.

  “Miss Sage Willows,” Reb said. “I have half a mind to drag ya back to the ranch house with me. This is a fine meal!”

  Sage blushed vermillion, jumping as she felt Scarlett kick her shin under the table. “I told you,” the woman whispered. Sage kicked Scarlett back, afraid Reb would hear her.

  Still the knowledge he was pleased with her cooking, that she had found a way to get his attention, elated Sage. As much as she tried to argue otherwise, she was overjoyed at the attention from him.

  Eugenia looked from Sage to her nephew and back again. Normally Sage only made her cornbread and sage stuffing on very special occasions. Reverend Tippetts and Scarlett were no special occasion, and neither was Mr. Winnery, and she smiled. Reb had caught her young friend’s eye! No. It was more than that. He had captured Sage’s attention, and nothing had captured Sage’s attention for a very long time.

  Yet she fretted. Reb’s past, his pain—would it interfere more than she already worried it would? Still, Reb’s delight—his genuine compliment to Sage’s cooking—it was rare. Not that he had been rude or behaved horrendously before. Not that he hadn’t been a polite child. But his pain had hardened him—taken away his ability to accept people—to trust them. Though he was always kind, Eugenia knew many times it was forced and false. His compliment to Sage, however—it was deeply sincere, and Eugenia smiled.

  

  After supper, Rose and Livie helped stack the dishes in the kitchen sink before everyone retired to the parlor. Sage never allowed herself, or anyone else, to hop up and do the dishes immediately after supper. She felt a meal should be enjoyed long after it had been eaten. Cleaning up could wait. And besides, parlor time with the widows and her other guests was just about the only true moments of happiness Sage had known in the past few years.

  She sat on the sofa next to Scarlett and smiled as Reverend Tippetts told everyone about Winnery’s bloated heifer.
He was such a dear man and the kind of preacher who didn’t own an air of self-righteous arrogance. She admired that about him—his humility—his ability to be true to God by being true to himself.

  Sage glanced to Reb. He sat across the room in the big chair by the fireplace. She was embarrassed when he caught her looking at him and winked at her. For Pete’s sake! He was a shameless flirt. Either that or he was far too casual with women. Sage looked away quickly and tried to concentrate on what Reverend Tippetts was saying.

  “Well…Winnery and I both knew…if we didn’t let the air out, then that heifer’d just up and die. Ain’t that right, Reb?” Reverend Tippetts said. Reb nodded. “Me and Winnery…well, you ladies know this is our first try at raising our own beef. So I saw Reb in town and asked him what to do…and done it.”

  “The heifer’s fine now,” Winnery said.

  Livie and Rose looked at one another, perplexed expressions on both their faces. “Well…how did you get the air out?” Livie asked.

  “Oh, for cryin’ in the bucket,” Mary grumbled.

  “Oh, hush, Mary,” Rose said. “Not all of us were raised in the pig pen.”

  Sage smiled, glancing at Reb who smiled at her, indicating his own enjoyment of Mary and Livie’s banter.

  “Probably just stabbed it with your pocketknife. Right?” Eugenia said.

  “Stabbed what with your pocketknife?” Livie asked.

  “The heifer’s belly,” Reb answered.

  “What?” Livie and Rose exclaimed in unison, perplexed expressions replaced with horrified ones.

  “It’s the best way when it gets that bad,” Eugenia explained. “You just shove your knife in their belly, give a twist so the wound don’t seal up too fast…and that lets the air out.”

  Sage smiled as both Livie and Rose began fanning themselves with their hands, feigning the need to faint from morbid revelation.