The Touch of Sage

Home > Other > The Touch of Sage > Page 13
The Touch of Sage Page 13

by McClure, Marcia Lynn


  “I have to say it, Reb,” Mary finally said. “Yer terrible at rummy.” Reb chuckled and nodded.

  “Don’t I know it,” he said. “But it’s just ’cause there ain’t anythin’ at stake here.”

  “What do ya mean, boy?” Mary argued. “Winnin’ or losin’. Them ain’t stakes enough for ya?”

  “Course not,” Reb said. “You ladies need to hop it up a bit here…make it worth fightin’ for.”

  “You mean…like gamblin’, Reb?” Rose asked.

  “Exactly,” Reb confirmed. “Ain’t no reason for me to want to win ’cause if I do win…what’s my prize? Miss Mary grumblin’ at me and Miss Livie pattin’ my hand? Nope…we need to set some serious stakes.”

  For some reason, Sage began to tremble inwardly. Some sort of excited warning was whispering to her even though she had no idea why.

  “In case ya ain’t noticed it, Reb,” Mary began, “we’re all widows here, and I for one don’t want to gamble away my means of survival.”

  “Oh, no, Miss Mary,” Reb told her. “I’d never let ya do that, and ya know it. I was thinkin’ more along the lines of…well, Miss Sage has been wantin’ the boardin’ house whitewashed, right?”

  “Yes,” Sage timidly admitted.

  “And Miss Rosie, yer always teasin’ me ’bout wantin’ a little sparkin’ time on the front porch swing,” he added. Sage’s eyebrows raised in astonishment. Surely he didn’t intend to bet such things as whitewashing an entire boarding house or sparking with a woman more than twice his age?

  “You’ve got our attention, Reb,” Rose giggled.

  “Now, hold on, ladies,” Sage said. “I don’t think we should…”

  “Oh, hush up, Sage,” Mary grumbled. “Let the boy talk.” Sage’s mouth dropped open in wonder. Even Mary was falling prey to Reb’s cunning ways. Reb smiled and winked at Sage.

  “Well, I say we set up some stakes—individual ones—and I play each of you ladies in turn. If I win, each of ya antes up to whatever I want. If you win…I pay up to each of you,” he said.

  “Reb!” Sage exclaimed. “You can’t possibly be serious. You’d be willing to bet whitewashin’ the entire outside of the boardin’ house on one hand of cards?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Two out of three hands.”

  Rose clapped her hands together with excitement. “I’m in! I’m definitely in!”

  “Me too! Me too!” Livie giggled. Sage looked at them, stunned into silence.

  “Sounds interestin’, boy,” Mary mused. “Count me in.”

  “Miss Mary!” Sage exclaimed.

  “And I certainly have stakes to offer,” Eugenia said. “What about you, Sage? Wouldn’t you like to have a fresh spread of whitewash on the boardin’ house?”

  “Well, yes…but…but what if I lose?” Sage asked.

  “Then I win whatever stakes I set down on ya,” Reb told her. His smile was intriguingly naughty.

  “I’m first!” Rose said. “What do you want if I lose, Reb?” she asked. Reb scratched the whiskers on his chin, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated.

  “I want me a backrub,” Reb said. “A good, hard backrub…half an hour maybe. My back’s been awful sore of late.”

  “It’s a bet for that,” Rose said. “And as far as my winnin’s?” Reb shrugged his shoulders.

  “Name it, Miss Rosie,” he said. Again Sage’s mouth dropped open. He was insane! Didn’t he know these women well enough to realize he would probably lose every hand? Furthermore, didn’t he realize what kind of winnings they would want?

  “I want some waltzin’,” Rose said. “And a long, lickery goodnight kiss!”

  “Rose Applewhite!” Mary exclaimed a moment before the same words could escape Sage’s mouth.

  Rose shrugged her shoulders and said, “It’s what I want. I haven’t had me a night of dancin’ and a kiss from a good-lookin’ man in a long time.”

  “Done,” Reb said, chuckling and without pause. Sage looked at him, her eyes widening in awe. Could he possibly be serious? “How ’bout you, Miss Livie?” he asked.

  “You first, Reb. If you please,” Livie told him. Still, the sudden blush that rose to her cheeks told Sage Livie’s stakes might be as high as Rose’s.

  “Okeydokey,” Reb began. He leaned back in his chair for a moment and studied Livie. “I got some mendin’ needs doin’,” he said. “Shirts, blue jeans, and such. If I win…ya do my mendin’.”

  “Done,” Livie said. “And now for my terms.” She paused and studied Reb for a moment. “If I win, I get a buggy ride with you…an entire afternoon of sunshine and fresh air. Maybe a picnic too.”

  “Done,” Reb chuckled. No doubt he was relieved by Livie’s stipulations after having heard Rose’s.

  “I want me a day of ridin’ out with yer herd, Reb,” Mary said. “I don’t want no one worryin’ about me fallin’ off a horse and gettin’ hurt. Just want me a day of ridin’ out at the ranch. Ya have to promise not to nag me about bein’ careful. If I fall off and break my neck…too bad. Just haul me off to the cemetery and cover me with dirt. But I’m sick to death of not ridin’ just ’cause everyone thinks I’m too old.”

  A sliver of painful compassion pricked Sage’s heart. In her one request, Mary had revealed so much hidden desire and pain. It was very touching.

  “Ya have my word, Miss Mary,” Reb agreed. Sage could see by the warmth suddenly enveloping his expression that compassion had washed over him as well.

  “And yer stakes, boy?” Mary asked. Reb seemed to consider the situation for a moment before a sly smile spread across his face.

  “If I win, Miss Mary…ya have to sit on the porch swing with me for a whole hour, at high noon, a-holdin’ my hand no matter who walks by,” he said, finally.

  “What in tarnation?” Mary exclaimed. Sage smiled for she could see how completely Reb understood Mary. Mary was in the game for the thrill of winning and nothing more, but Reb had just made it more interesting.

  “Take it or leave it, Miss Mary,” he said. “You win and ya get yer day of herdin’ cattle. I win and I get…”

  “My reputation in the mud,” Mary mumbled. Reb shrugged his shoulders.

  “I understand if yer afraid to—” he began.

  “I ain’t afraid of nothin’,” Mary interrupted. “And that includes men and dyin’. Done, Reb Mitchell. Done.”

  “I’m ready, Reb,” Eugenia said, then.

  “What do ya want, Auntie?” Reb chuckled.

  “No, no. You go first,” Eugenia instructed.

  “All righty then,” Reb said. “Let’s see.” He looked at his aunt and seemed pensive. “I win and I get myself supper every night for a week…meanin’ you come out to the ranch and stay a week with me.” Sage smiled at his tenderhearted, understanding offer. She knew how badly Eugenia missed the ranch, how she had tried not to smother Reb by visiting too often. Eugenia’s eyes filled with tears, and she smiled.

  “Done, my darlin’. Done,” she told him. Reb smiled—reached out and squeezed his aunt’s hand with his own.

  “And?” he asked, waiting for her stakes to be set.

  “I win,” Eugenia began, “and you promise to stay on and run the ranch as long as I want ya to.” Sage looked to Reb. Would he agree? Oh, certainly he’d brought his herd up from Santa Fe, but that didn’t ensure his staying.

  “Done,” he said quietly. Sage’s heart swelled as she watched the nephew smile adoringly at his beloved aunt.

  It was all so sweet—somewhat surreal and inappropriate, but sweet all the same. Sage could not believe how willing Reb was to please the little gray-haired ladies.

  “Sage?” he said, unexpectedly turning to her then.

  “What?” she gasped. In all the excitement she had completely forgotten that her turn to place stakes would arrive at some point too.

  “Do ya want me to whitewash the boardin’ house?” Reb asked. “Or do ya have a better idea?”

  “Oh, Reb,” she said. “I couldn’t ask you to d
o that. It’s a terrible big job.”

  Reb shrugged. “It’s a big chance yer takin’,” he said. “Ya haven’t heard my stakes yet.” Sage began to tremble nervously again.

  “What are your stakes?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said. “You go first.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Sage said, her hands wringing in her lap.

  “Oh, come on, Sage!” Mary grumbled. “It’s all in fun.”

  “Yes, Sage. Don’t lose your gumption, now,” Livie added.

  Sage looked to Reb, his delicious smile warm and daring. She thought of the other stakes he had set down—a rubbing for his sore back, mending, staying on at the ranch. Even his stakes for Mary weren’t too shocking.

  “Very well,” she said at last. “I win and you whitewash the boardin’ house.”

  “Shake my hand on it?” he asked, offering his hand to her. Sage put her hand in his tentatively, thrilled as he clasped it tightly. “Done,” he said.

  “And your own terms, Reb?” Rose inquired.

  “Oh, nothin’ too terrible,” he said, picking up the deck of cards on the table and shuffling them. “Just an evenin’ of havin’ my way with her.”

  “What?” Sage exclaimed, jumping up from her chair, her heart pounding madly.

  “Ya already shook on it, Sage, so sit down and wait yer turn to play,” Reb chuckled.

  “I did not agree to…” Sage began.

  “Oh, simmer down, girl,” Mary said. “He ain’t serious.”

  “Oh, but I am serious, Miss Mary,” Reb said.

  “Reb Mitchell,” Eugenia scolded, giggling at the same time.

  “Oh, I don’t mean nothin’ so scandalous as you ladies are thinkin’ up,” he sighed. “Just some friendly conversation, a little hand-holdin’, a might good bit of sparkin’…and whatever else comes to mind.”

  “Reb,” Sage stammered, “you can’t possibly be serious.” As madly as her heart beat with excitement, her body likewise trembled with anxiety. She wanted him to be sincere, but at the same time, she hoped he was just teasing.

  “Quit sittin’ the fence, Sage,” Mary said. “She’s in, Reb. Who ya playin’ first?”

  “Might as well be you, Miss Mary,” Reb said. “And since I know how strongly ya feel about dealin’, I’ll let you deal the first hand.”

  “Reb, I—” Sage began.

  “Quiet there, Sage,” he said, holding a hand up to her to indicate she should be silent. “I gotta pay attention here.”

  

  Two hours later, Mary Farthen had won herself a day out herding Reb’s herd, Livie Jonesburg had managed to become responsible for Reb’s mending, and his aunt had won the right to have Reb stay on at the ranch as long as she wished. Sage had nearly wrung her hands raw with each game of rummy lost or won. Only Rose stood between Sage and her turn to recklessly gamble with Reb.

  Reb had won the first hand of rummy with Rose; Rose had won the second. Now the pile of cards in the center of the table was getting smaller as the discard pile grew.

  All at once, Rose laid down her hand of cards, leapt up from her chair and hollered, “Rummy!” Dancing around the room she sang, “Rummy, rummy, rummy!” swishing her skirts this way and that.

  “For the love of Pete, Rose,” Mary grumbled. “Remember to keep them bloomers to yerself. No sense in damagin’ poor Reb any further this evenin’.”

  Sage sat with her mouth gaping open, entirely stunned at Rose’s victory. Waltzing and a kiss, that had been the stakes she had laid down, and now she had won the hand! Reb chuckled and shook his head.

  “Well, Miss Rosie,” he said. “Ya got a date in mind for our night of waltzin’?” At least he had proven trustworthy—willing to pay what he had gambled away.

  “Waltzin’ and a kiss,” Rose reminded him. Waltzing over to where Reb sat defeated, but looking as amused as anyone else, Rose plopped down on his lap. “This Friday night, Reb. Meet me here, at the boardin’ house at six sharp.” Reb chuckled again.

  “All right, Miss Rosie,” he said, pinching her cheek adoringly. “Six on Friday night.”

  Rose jumped to her feet once more, singing, “Rummy, rummy, rummy,” as she took another turn around the room.

  “Well, it’s gettin’ late,” Sage sighed. “We best be gettin’ everyone off to bed here pretty quick.” Sage stood and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Hold on there!” Reb exclaimed. “Don’t ya go boltin’ off like a frightened little filly. Everyone else made good on their bets.” Sage smiled at him and shook her head.

  “Oh, Reb,” she laughed. “I know it’s all just in fun. Quit teasin’.” It was Mary who stepped in front of Sage, blocking her escape.

  “Now, Sage…ya made a bet with the young man, and we can’t let ya duck it,” Mary told her. “Besides,” she continued, “what’re ya afraid of? Yer just about the best rummy player in town.”

  Sage looked to Reb. He winked at her, smiling triumphantly.

  “Ya owe me two outta three hands, Sage,” he said. “I got witnesses.”

  “Oh, go on, Sage!” Livie said. “Don’t you think a night in Reb’s arms would be worth losing for?”

  “Livie Jonesburg!” Mary scolded.

  “Oh, you know what I mean, Mary,” Livie said. “Quit playin’ the Reverend Mother to us all.”

  “Besides, Sage,” Reb said. “What if ya beat me? Ya’ve been talkin’ about wantin’ the boardin’ house whitewashed since the day I arrived.”

  In truth, Sage could think of nothing more wonderful than losing to Reb. Spending an evening with him, secluded and alone, with the prospect of his kissing her again was more dreamy than anything. Still, she couldn’t lose to him—for she feared it would be obvious that she wanted to.

  At last, she inhaled deeply and said, “Very well, Mr. Mitchell. Prepare to spend a day or two workin’ for me, instead of runnin’ your herd.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that. Won’t we?” he said, handing the deck of cards to her.

  

  Sage’s hands trembled as she held her cards. One card. That’s all she needed. Just one more three to finish her set and she would win! Reb had won the first hand they’d played, Sage the second. Now Sage sat holding everything she needed to beat him—save one silly three.

  “I swear, Sage,” Rose said. “You’ve gone pale as a ghost.”

  “Hush, Rose,” Mary scolded. “Ya’ll break her concentration.”

  “Go on, Miss Rosie,” Reb chuckled. “Break her concentration.”

  Timidly Sage drew a card, a four of hearts. She tossed the card to the discard pile and waited. Reb smiled, his eyes lighting up with triumph as he then took the four of hearts from the top of the discard pile, placing it in his hand.

  “Rummy,” he said, chuckling. “Rummy, rummy, rummy! Ain’t that right, Miss Rosie?” Sage sat, mouth gaping open in astonishment. She had lost! She had actually lost! Reb looked at her, obviously and utterly amused by her stunned silence.

  “Well, Sage,” he began, “I got me a previous engagement on Friday, so why don’t we just say, I’ll drop in Saturday and collect my winnin’s?”

  “N-now, Reb,” Sage stammered, a nervous smile—a pleading expression—washing over her face. “Why don’t I just fix you up a nice supper on Saturday? Let’s say chicken, some mashed potatoes…some of my special sage gravy. You’re always tellin’ me how much you like the flavor of my sage—”

  “Oh, I like the flavor of sage, all right,” Reb interrupted, smiling at her as he smoothed his mustache with the side of an index finger. He moistened his lips and winked at her. “Yes, ma’am! I do love to savor the taste of sage! And I plan on gettin’ my fill of it Saturday night, but supper won’t be necessary…Sage.”

  Sage felt her cheeks run vermillion as the other ladies in the room giggled. Even Mary giggled, and Sage sighed when Eugenia winked at her.

  

  It was very late when Reb set out for the ranch. Once he was gone, the older ladies of Wil
lows’s Boarding House retired quickly—giggles and whispers about their sinful card playing with Reb buzzing about in their wake. Sage lay in bed for hours, struggling for sleep, struggling to calm herself about the prospect of having to pay her debt. She’d lost in gambling. In fact, it was the first time in her life she had gambled—and the outcome proved the vice was wicked.

  Still, she couldn’t help but smile, a thrill running through her as she thought of spending time alone with Reb—of his collecting his winnings. Saturday night couldn’t come fast enough!

  Chapter Eight

  “It fits!” Rose exclaimed, clapping her tiny hands. “It fits perfectly! I knew it would. Oh, Sage! To see you there…that dress…it takes me back. It truly takes me back.”

  “It should take you back, Rose Applewhite,” Mary grumbled. “Back to jail for showin’ so much skin. Sakes alive, Sage. Ya look like ya done stepped straight out of the town saloon!” Mary exclaimed, though her tight smile displayed approval.

  “Miss Rosie!” Sage exclaimed as she looked at her reflection in the standing mirror. “I can’t believe you used to…I can’t believe you talked me into puttin’ this on! It’s hardly proper.” Still, Sage couldn’t help but grin as she studied her reflection. Her hair was piled high on her head in a profusion of curls with several ringlets cascading over her shoulders. Her shoulders, in fact, were nearly bare except for the ruffled, lacy capped sleeves of the dress’s bodice. The purple and crimson satin dress barely covered her knees in the front, tapering down at the sides to hang nearly to her ankles in the back. It was the most ruffled thing Sage had ever seen—embellished beautifully with long black ribbons and a profusion of black lace. Still, scandalous or not, as she studied herself in the oval standing mirror, hair piled high, black stockings, and dancing boots laced tightly, Sage could not help but be delighted.

  “It’s ridiculous,” Sage giggled. “I look like a…”

  “Like a princess!” Livie exclaimed.

 

‹ Prev