Forever, Victoria

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Oh? I suppose you’ve done it lots of times.”

  “A few. But I never wanted to do it as much as I want to now.” She placed her head against his shoulder and tilted her face and his heart thundered. Desire surged through him, not lustful, but an overwhelming need to protect her. Nellie’s parted lips held a mute appeal for something—Sage didn’t know what—and he sought to reassure them.

  He bent his head to brush his mouth across her lips. The kiss, warm though it was, was just a taste. He wanted more, but an inner voice cautioned him not to rush the fence, so he raised his lips to her forehead and curved his hand against her cheek to press her head against his shoulder.

  It was minutes before he realized the slicker had slipped and the rain was splashing against his back. He pulled the slicker up over his shoulder and Nellie moved away from him. He tried to pull her back and she resisted.

  “You’ve something in your pocket that’s diggin’ a hole in me,” she whispered regretfully. Never had she been so happy. The light touch of his mouth on hers was so sweet, so gentle—a giving, rather than a taking. She wanted to be held tighter against him, wanted to touch him with her hands and vowed silently that she would before this magical night was over.

  His hand left hers and he fumbled in his shirt pocket. “I plumb forgot about the owl.” He placed the small object in her hand. “I made it for ya. It’s not as big as Ruby’s, but I think it’s better.”

  Nellie’s fingers closed over the wood carving. It fit perfectly in her palm. “Oh, thank you! You didn’t need to do that. But I’m glad you did.” She held it up in front of her eyes. “I want to see it. I don’t know if I can wait till I get to the house to see it!”

  “Ya don’t have to wait.” Sage pulled the slicker up over their heads enclosing them in a dark cocoon. He drew out a match and flicked the head with his thumbnail and cupped the flame with his hands.

  Nellie looked at the dark wood carving. It had been painstakingly cut, from the large, round eyes and small ears to the feathered feet clutching the branch it sat on. She turned it in her hand, a smile playing on her lips. The match burned low and she blew out the flame. Holding the owl in one hand she reached up with the other and stroked the cheek so close to hers.

  “Thank you, Sage,” she whispered. “I’ll treasure it always.”

  “Nellie…Nellie…”

  She held her face very still, hoping he would kiss her again and he did. She held her palm against his cheek. It was warm; rough whiskers lightly scraped against her fingers. Their breaths mingled for an instant before his mouth covered hers. Gently, as though he was afraid to hurt her soft lips, he kissed her again and again. There was no haste in his kisses. They were slow, languid, deliberate. She offered her lips willingly and felt rather than heard the raspy sounds that came from his throat when his lips were not taking hers. Her hand slipped from his cheek to the back of his neck and she pressed him to her.

  Nellie’s touch nearly drove him wild. Didn’t she know what she was doing? Didn’t she know what an effort it was for him to hold back, to keep from crushing her mouth, to keep from going inside to taste, to explore, to adore? He allowed himself one brief moment of passion and kissed her hungrily. His ravaging kiss only made Nellie braver and her hand slid down to caress his chest.

  He lifted his head and his hand came away from her to remove the slicker. He leaned his cheek against her forehead and filled his lungs with cool, damp air.

  “I should go back to the house,” she murmured, but did not move to go, and he hugged her to him and kissed her gently on the forehead. She held very still, trembling, wanting him to hold her closer.

  “I wish ya didn’t have to, but I know ya do.” Sage got to his feet and pulled her up beside him. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. We’ve got about another week before we start the drive to the stock pens.” He reached down and touched her hair. It was so very soft. Like the feathers on the belly of a wild goose. For a moment he held a strand in his fingers, then let it fall gently against her cheek. “The rain has let up, but there’s water standing. I’ll carry you so you won’t get your skirts wet.”

  He scooped her up in his arms as if she were a child. Her arm went about his neck and she gave herself up to his strength, glad for the excuse to be close to him for a little while longer. He stepped off the porch and his foot slipped in the mud. He struggled to regain his balance and she giggled against his neck.

  “You wouldn’t be laughin’ if I dropped ya in that mud puddle,” he teased.

  Her arms tightened around his neck. “You wouldn’t do that! I’d hold on tight and you’d go with me.”

  His face moved a fraction and his lips found her cheek. “It might be worth it.”

  “Who washes your shirts, Sage? This one smells so nice and clean.”

  “I do. But sometimes Ruby grabs up a shirt or two and pokes them down in the washtub.”

  “You think a lot of Ruby, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Ruby and Stonewall have kinda took the place of folks.”

  “You don’t have none of your own?”

  “No. They’re gone.”

  There was something about the way he said the words that tore at Nellie’s heart. “Someday will you tell me about them?”

  “I’d like to,” he said quietly.

  They reached the house and he stepped up onto the porch. He continued to hold her. I wish I didn’t have to put her down, he thought wistfully. In Nellie’s mind was a similar thought: I wish he didn’t have to put me down.

  Sage pressed her close. “Do I dare kiss ya again?” His voice was lazy and teasing, but underneath there was a hint of desperate longing.

  “Do you want to?” She couldn’t resist teasing him. It was all so new, so wonderful, to talk to him like this, to know that she didn’t have to measure every word.

  “Very much. So much that if ya don’t let me I’ll carry ya back to the mud puddle.”

  Her ringing laugh was accompanied by his low chuckle. They were so absorbed in each other that they scarcely heard the door open.

  “Nellie!” One of the twins flung back the door and stepped out onto the porch. “What ’n hell are you doin’ with my sister? Put her down!”

  “Clay…Pete!” Nellie cried out in shock and embarrassment.

  “Put ’er down!” Clay demanded. “What’re you doin’ lollygaggin’ around here for?”

  Sage took his time and set Nellie gently on her feet, but kept hold of her arm. “I carried her over from Ruby’s so she wouldn’t get her skirts wet,” he said patiently.

  “It took you long enough. I was just goin’ after her.”

  “Clay! You have no right! I’m a woman full grown!”

  “You’re just a snot-nosed kid when it comes to men like him. Go in the house!”

  “I won’t!” Nellie protested.

  “Go on,” Sage said quietly and gave her a little push. When she refused to move, he said, “It’ll be all right.”

  Nellie’s face was flushed, but she turned obediently and walked in the door.

  Sage turned to her brother. “You have nothin’ to worry about. I’d be the last man on earth to harm Nellie.”

  “You stay away from her. Hear?”

  “Boy,”—Sage ground out the word from between clenched teeth—”don’t tell me what to do. I admire ya lookin’ out for your sister, but don’t push me.”

  “My sister ain’t for no saddle tramp.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Clay, what ’n hell’s goin’ on?” Pete opened the door and stepped out beside his twin.

  “I caught him with Nellie. He was just a standin’ there, holdin’ her. I told him to stay away from her.”

  “I want no trouble. I have nothin’ but respect for yore sister, but tell your brother to watch his tongue.” Sage spoke menacingly. “I’ll not have the time I spent with Nellie dirtied with talk.”

  “I think it’s somethin’ Mason will have to handle,” Pete said. “I
reckon if Mason thinks yore not fit company for Nellie he’ll say so. Come on in, Clay. We ain’t better stir up somethin’ we can’t handle.” Pete pushed Clay firmly through the door and closed it.

  Sage stood for a moment before he headed back toward Ruby’s. A coyote spoke into the night, his shrill cries, lonely and seeking, mounting in crescendo, then dying away in echoes against the mesa wall.

  Sage stared bleakly into the darkness. Words did not come easily to him and yet he knew, desperately, that he must find words to reach Nellie’s brothers. He must make them realize that he loved their sister, cherished her. He thought of many things to say, but they seemed empty and meaningless. Tonight he had learned that it was not easy to speak of love when the feeling was deep and strong.

  He sat down on the plank where he had sat with Nellie and rolled a cigarette. He flicked a match, lit the smoke and drew in deeply. In the yard a bat dipped and darted through the air. The wind came up and blew its cold breath in his face. Winter was coming.

  He smoked the cigarette down to a butt, then nursed the last few drags before tossing it out into a mud puddle. It’s been a long time since I had me a home, he thought. It’d take me a while to get halter-broke, but I could do it. I’ve been wantin’ a place of my own for a good spell. Just a few cows and some horses. Mostly horses. Nothing real big, just a place that’s mine. If I could find me a place with a view where I can see all the way into tomorrow, a place with a long trail leadin’ right up to my own door. I want to see my own horses in my meadow, my own woman a waitin’ for me and my own younguns comin’ to meet me. A man is only half a man when he’s alone. He needs a woman to work for, to confide in, to depend on. Like Ruby and Stonewall.

  Sage continued to think, not about returning to his lonely existence but about finding a place, getting his money from back East and convincing Mason Mahaffey he was a fit man for his sister. One thing was sure in his mind, he’d not cut Nellie off from her family, unless they refused to accept him. If that happened, the chips would have to fall where they might. He had found his woman and he had no intention of giving her up.

  Nellie listened beside the door and when her brothers came in she followed them to the kitchen. She stood beside the table, her mouth set resentfully, sparks of anger glittering in her eyes. Pete grinned at her and winked, Clay’s face looked like a thundercloud.

  “You had no right to embarrass me, Clay.”

  “No right! Tell me who has more right than your brother!”

  “I was doing nothing wrong. You treated me like a child.” Her eyes were bright with tears.

  “You don’t know any more about men like him than Dora does.”

  “Keep your voice down, Clay. You’ll have Victoria in here,” Pete cautioned. “We don’t want her to see the Mahaffeys feudin’.”

  “What do you mean, men like him?” Nellie’s voice was loud but she didn’t care.

  “He’s a killer, is what he is. A gunfighter. He’d killed three men by the time he was sixteen. You stay away from his sort!”

  Nellie sucked in her breath, but refused to bow her head. She looked her brother in the eye. “I don’t believe that!”

  “Pete heard Lud tell it. The men like him, but they’re scared of him, too. He’s a shiftless drifter,” Clay said bitterly.

  His sharp words whipped her cruelly, and tears weighed heavily on her long lashes. Her mouth opened and she closed it again, took a deep breath and braced her thin shoulders defensively.

  “He was sweet and gentle with me and I’ll not believe anything bad about him unless he tells me.” She met her brother’s accusing stare. She was trying hard to maintain the confidence she had gained over the last few weeks. Although her eyes were awash with tears and her mouth was taut, she held her head high.

  “Mason will send him packing,” Clay said stubbornly.

  Nellie stared steadily at some point beyond him as she said slowly, “If it comes to that, I’ll go with him. If he asks me.”

  “Gawd! Talk some sense in her, Pete.”

  “I think you’re gettin’ in a sweat for nothin’, Clay. All she’s done was talk to him a little. I can’t see no harm in that. Just hold your tater till Mason gets here. He’ll handle things.”

  Nellie wanted to cry. She had just had the most wonderful experience of her life and here was Clay making it appear to be something shoddy. If not for the little carved owl in her hand it might seem as if the time she had spent on Ruby’s porch with Sage had never happened. As badly as she wanted to look at her present from Sage in the light of the kitchen lamp, she slipped it into her pocket to save until she was alone. Sage, Sage, you’re not a bad man! How could you be what Clay says you are? I would have known it when you kissed me. I’m sure I would have known.

  “You better go to bed, Nellie.” Clay’s voice was less stern now, but his words angered her.

  “Don’t you try to tell me to go to bed like a naughty child! I’ll go to bed when I please, Clay Mahaffey, and I’ll thank you to tend to your own business from now on.” To add to her irritation Pete laughed, and Nellie turned on him like a spitting cat. “That goes for you too, Pete. You think I don’t know anything because I was shut up in that attic for so long. Well, I’ve learned a lot from Victoria since we’ve been here. She’d not stand for anybody sending her off to bed and I’ll not stand for it either!”

  Pete continued to laugh. “Hear that? Our baby sister’s got a burr under her blanket. You better watch out, Clay!”

  His twin didn’t laugh; instead a worried frown creased his forehead. “That’s another thing. What’s Mason goin’ to do about Victoria?” He sat down at the kitchen table and tilted back in the chair. “The longer she stays the harder it’ll be for her to leave. And where would she go?”

  The grin left Pete’s face. “Mason knows the men would be on us like flies on a slop bucket if there was a hint he was trying to run Victoria off the Double M. Sage thinks a heap of Ruby and Stonewall and they think a heap of Victoria. All Ruby would have to do was say the word.” Pete regretted his words when he saw the pained look on Nellie’s face. “I don’t mean Sage would come gunnin’ for Mason, but he’d not take kindly to seein’ Victoria leave here. Neither would a dozen other men who drift in and out of this valley. Now if Mason is smart, and I think he is, he’ll court her and marry her and everythin’ll be hunky-dory.”

  “That was a hateful thing to say, Pete.” Nellie closed her mind to the agony his words about Sage caused her and concentrated on what he’d said about Victoria. “It wouldn’t be very nice of Mason to use Victoria that way.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be nice to send her away from here. And it wouldn’t be nice for her to turn her outlaw friends loose on us. This way they’d both have what they want.”

  “You’re wrong, Pete,” Nellie said quietly. “They’d both lose. Nothing could be worse than to be tied for life to someone you don’t love.” She turned and walked quickly from the room before they could see the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer.

  CHAPTER

  * 13 *

  Victoria kept her face to the breeze, savoring the touch of fall blowing in from the north. The sumac were purple now, ribboned with crimson and bright orange. The oaks were changing from their deep green to yellow and the mesquite were quietly slipping to brown and soon would be naught but a scraggly mass of bare limbs against the sky.

  She walked slowly around the burial ground. The wind whispered eulogies and drying leaves drifted among the weathered headboards. Her hair floated out behind her like a cape of flaxen gold. She tugged her hat closer to her head and knelt beside her mother’s grave to trace her fingers over the letters in the headboard. Like the others, the name had been burned into the wood, but more than ten years of Wyoming weather had caused the letters to fade.