Rosanne Bittner

by Paradise Valley

  Maggie shivered. Everything about Sage spelled ruthless. He seemed no less dangerous than the Indian who glared back with pure hatred.

  “Calm down, Lightfoot,” the blond-haired man spoke up. “Around here we have to make sure what kind of man is riding in.”

  “Well, now you know, so tell these men to keep their eyes off my wife, or their guts will be slop for the pigs come morning.”

  The apparent leader of the bunch nodded. “It’s done.” He turned to the other three. “Ride back to the house. Tell Betsy to put on some food for these two, and get out a bathtub for the woman here.”

  The fat man and the curly-haired man left with scowls on their faces.

  The Indian stared at Sage a little longer, obviously summing him up. “I think maybe I will go back and take a cold bath,” he snarled. He yanked his horse around and rode off.

  The blond man held his arms at his sides then. “I’m not going to use a gun, mister,” he told Sage. “You can put yours away.”

  Sage slowly released the hammer of his revolver and slid it into its holster.

  “Name’s Whitey,” the blond man told Sage. “The fat one is Stu. The one who rode beside me is Bo—a friend for years. I don’t know their last names. The Indian, who I’ll probably end up killing someday unless you beat me to it, is called Cutter.” Maggie thought about the knife the man wore and felt a bit light-headed. The blond man nodded toward her. “What’s her name?”

  Sage took the cheroot from his lips. “Maggie,” he answered for her.

  Whitey took his smoke from his lips and flicked off ashes as he turned his horse. “Well,” he called, “you’re welcome to come down to the house. Betsy is a good cook.” He looked at Maggie and grinned a bit sheepishly. “I, uh, hope you won’t be offended by Betsy. She kind of belongs to all of us, if you know what I mean.” Maggie couldn’t imagine how any woman could share a bed with any of the men she’d just met. This was indeed a world she knew nothing about, but Sage seemed to know it well.

  “We’re obliged for a meal and maybe a bed for the night,” Sage told Whitey.

  “You’ve got it.” Whitey turned back around. “Don’t worry, ma’am,” he called out to Maggie. “Nobody will harm you.”

  He rode on down the hill, and Maggie pulled her coat collar closer around her neck. “I wish I could believe that,” she commented.

  She caught up with Sage. “You pulled that gun awful fast. It was kind of unsettling to see how quick you are with it.”

  Sage said nothing. Something about him was different… dark… still seething… an outlaw. “Is it really true that you’re their kind?”

  “I already told you that. You’ve been warned.”

  Maggie could see that “other” side of him wasn’t going to go away soon. It was a side she wasn’t familiar with… and it scared her.

  “Just keep doing as I say, and don’t make my job harder than it needs to be,” he continued. “Don’t forget that I didn’t want to bring you along in the first place. What just happened is an example of why having you with me makes tracking those men more difficult.”

  “Don’t take what happened out on me,” she grumped. “I appreciate your skills, but it kind of scares me, now that I’ve seen the kind of men you used to ride with.”

  Maggie instantly regretted her words. Sage halted his horse and looked at her. It was as though she’d slapped him in the face. A surprising hurt passed quickly in his dark eyes, replaced just as quickly by a stiff pride.

  “You saw it in Bill and Joe and the others back at the ranch too,” he seethed. “Men can change, Maggie, and sometimes, they were good to begin with. Men like those down there were born bad and won’t change. You have to know how to tell the difference out here. If those men see one weak spot in me, they’ll jump on it, like a wolf on an injured rabbit. And believe me, you could be carrying an arsenal of guns, and they’d still get to you! Our best bet is to make sure they believe you’re my wife. If they figure any different, then in their minds I have no real claim on you. Do you know what that means?”

  Maggie stiffened. “I understand better than most.” You bastard! Part of her wanted to scream, part of her wanted to cry. She didn’t like this Sage Lightfoot.

  Sage closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess you do,” he said quietly. He circled his horse. “Look, Maggie, you need to trust that I know men like those down there, and I know how to deal with them. You can’t let anything I do cause you alarm over being with me.”

  Maggie looked away. “I guess it was the look of that Indian. I never saw anybody who looked more menacing, not even in the eyes of the men who…” She faced him again. “Could you… I mean… can you really take on somebody like that Indian if you have to?”

  Sage’s countenance completely changed. He actually laughed, shaking his head. “Jesus, you’re something.” His horse skittered, and he reined it to a halt. “I can take him on, as you put it. Bet on it!” He rode ahead again. “Think what you want of me, Maggie. I told you what it would be like if you came along,” he called back. “And don’t be surprised by anything that’s said or done when we get to that cabin. Trust me.”

  You’re a complex man, Sage Lightfoot. “I’d feel a lot better if I could figure out whether you’re bad or good,” she said. I haven’t seen you drunk yet.

  “You’ll know by the time we get back to Paradise Valley.”

  That was sure. She’d seen his quick temper, and she’d been warned. She couldn’t help wondering how furious he’d be if she told him she was carrying… all the more reason she needed to hide that fact until this was over. She was one hundred percent positive now. Too much time had passed, and every morning brought nausea that so far, she’d been able to control in front of Sage. Her belly wasn’t any bigger, and even if it were, it wouldn’t be noticed because of the way she was dressed. She remembered her first pregnancy didn’t show for a good four months.

  My little Suzie. Her precious girl lay buried back in Missouri… all alone… so tiny. Her baby had shown her the only real love she’d known in her life, other than what she remembered of her own mother. She longed for that kind of love again… pure, simple, forgiving, affectionate, sweet. More and more, she wanted the baby growing inside her now, but first she had to survive this trip and keep her secret from Sage through it all. He was enough like the men below that his attitude toward her might change if he knew the truth. She’d seen how quickly he could change, and even his good side could be intimidating at times.

  Lord knew, nothing in her life had taught her she could trust any man completely.

  Sixteen

  Once Sage described the men he hunted, Bo and Whitey recognized them as three men who’d come by the ranch asking to sell three mules.

  Maggie’s mules, Sage figured. Maggie stayed in an adjoining room, an offer from Whitey that Sage welcomed. He wanted her away from the prying eyes and thoughts of these men.

  “I traded one good riding horse for the three mules,” Whitey told him.

  “Which way did they go?”

  “North.”

  That surprised Sage. “Not south?”

  “Nope. That was about five or six days ago. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry. I expect you have a good chance of catchin’ up with them.”

  Sage took a drag on a fat cigar Whitey offered him. “Maybe they figured I’m not coming after them. They seem to be taking their time now.”

  “Could be,” Bo commented.

  “I’ll leave in the morning.”

  Whitey nodded. “Out here, men don’t rat on each other, at least not without getting paid for it. In your case, the information is free because it was your wife they mistreated and not some no-account woman.”

  Sage tipped his chair back and rested the sole of one foot against the edge of the table. “I appreciate that. So does my wife.”

  The woman named Betsy reached down to take away his empty plate.

  “Good steak, Betsy,” Sage told her.


  She leaned closer so that her very exposed breasts were near his face. “I’m good at a lot of things, mister.”

  The others snickered.

  Sage met Betsy’s blue eyes—eyes that showed a woman who’d lived a hard life. God only knew how she’d ended up this way. “No offense, Betsy. You’re a fine-looking woman, but I do have a wife in the other room. I’d like to thank you for fixing that bath for her.”

  Betsy patted his face. “No problem, honey.”

  Sage put his chair down and leaned over the table to get Betsy’s voluptuous cleavage out of his face. There was a time when he’d readily take advantage of her offer. What made matters worse was that before this night was over, he’d have to share a bedroom with Maggie. Sleeping on the open ground was one thing, but being together in a small room with a woman he was beginning to want while she lay right beside him in a soft bed was another.

  “Break out the cards, Betsy,” Whitey ordered. “And bring over another bottle. We’re gonna take this newcomer for whatever he’s got in his pockets.”

  “Might turn out I’m the one who’s richer in the morning,” Sage shot back with a grin, trying to keep things jovial.

  “We’ll just see about that,” Stu answered sullenly, still miffed about being threatened earlier with Sage’s forty-five caliber. Sage judged Stu would need watching the rest of the night, but his bigger worry was Cutter. The Indian left before he and Maggie reached the cabin, and he hadn’t come back.

  “You boys deal while I check on my wife,” he told the rest of them, momentarily putting out his cigar. He walked into the bedroom to find Maggie sitting at a dressing table in a flannel nightgown. She was brushing out her long, thick, red locks, and the sight was almost more than a man could take.

  Maggie quickly put down the brush as Sage closed the door. She grabbed a robe Betsy had given her. “You could have knocked.”

  Sage put fingers to his lips to warn her to speak softly, so those outside the room wouldn’t hear them. Then he stepped closer and kept his own voice down as he answered her. “What do you think those men out there would have thought if I had to knock before entering my wife’s bedroom?”

  Maggie shook her hair loose from the robe and tied the garment tightly. Sage noticed she could practically have wrapped the thing around herself twice—she was so small compared to Betsy. “I came to check and make sure things are okay in here,” Sage added.

  Maggie sat in front of the dressing table again. “It felt good to take a bath, I’ll say that.”

  Sage could hardly stop staring. This was the prettiest he’d seen her. He wished she could always wear her hair down like that instead of the bun she kept it in. “I bet it did. Is there anything you want me to tell Betsy to get you? Coffee or something?”

  She looked at him strangely. He could swear he saw something close to jealousy in her eyes.

  “No, thanks, but from what I heard, there are other things she’d gladly help you out with,” Maggie answered in a rough whisper. She turned and started brushing her hair again.

  “That bothers you?”

  Maggie laid down the brush. “Well, we certainly wouldn’t look like the happily married couple if you cavorted in another room with a whore now, would we?”

  Sage grinned. “No, ma’am.”

  “And if those men think you care so little about me, they might get ideas.”

  “Which is exactly why I turned Betsy down.”

  Maggie looked at him in the mirror, studying him with obvious distrust. “That’s the only reason?”

  Good God, does the woman have feelings for me? “What’s wrong with you, Maggie?”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to think when I see and hear how you interact with men like those in the other room, let alone with that Betsy.”

  He sighed with irritation. “I told you how things would be out here, and you swore it didn’t matter. If what happened to you is going to get in the way, you’d better get out soon as we reach a place where I can put you on a stage back to Rawlins.”

  “No! Please don’t!” Maggie picked up the brush and turned. “Please don’t go drinking so much that you get ideas when you come back in here tonight,” she added. “I don’t want to worry… I mean… I know drinking can change a man. It used to make my pa real mean, and you can get real mean without even taking a drop of liquor.”

  The air hung silent for a moment. When Sage said nothing, Maggie added that he’d have to sleep on the floor when he came back. “I’ll leave a pillow and blanket for you.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Sage turned to leave.

  “Sage,” Maggie said.

  “What?”

  I’m carrying. That’s why I need to sleep. “Please say you understand.”

  “Oh, I understand, all right. What I don’t understand is why you think you need to tell me all this. Why don’t you trust me? You’ve trusted me just fine up to a few hours ago.”

  She nodded. “I know, but you weren’t… you weren’t in this kind of situation… around men like those from your past.”

  “I told you, the men at the ranch are from my past, and you had no trouble trusting me or them.”

  “I know.” She sighed and rose. “I guess… Sage, my whole life has been turned upside down. I hardly know what to make of it or how to abide by men like those out there. I don’t know how you could have lived like this and then built such a beautiful ranch and settled.” She took a deep breath. “I have to ask you, Sage. Are you married? I couldn’t help seeing the return address on that letter you received before we left. Joanna Lightfoot.”

  Sage’s brow deepened in a scowl. He hated how complicated women could be. He hated even more talking about Joanna. “She was my wife, but not anymore.” He studied her eyes, realizing he often felt dangerously lost in their green depths. To his shock, it hit him that Maggie Tucker had enough feelings for him that she was jealous of Joanna, and of women like Betsy. For such a little thing who’d had no experience with men other than the obligations of a dutiful wife, she had a way of looking right through a man… maybe all the way into his heart, which of late, had begun beating through the wall he’d deliberately built around it. “Maggie, don’t do this.”

  She blinked. “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t look at me like you are right now.”

  She turned away. “I was thinking how much I wish… I wish you could hold me, just for a minute. I’m scared, Sage. Please don’t take it wrong, but… I’m grateful for your strength and protection, and I want to be sure you won’t turn back into a man like those out there. Sometimes a woman needs some reassurance, if that makes any sense.”

  Against his better judgment, Sage walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I’d never go back to behaving like those men out there,” he told her. Her hair smelled clean. She felt so small in his arms.

  Maggie gripped his forearms. “Thank you… for bringing me along and all.”

  Jesus, Sage, let go before things go too far. He pulled away and gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Get some rest now. We have a lot more riding to do tomorrow.” He moved farther away and folded his arms. “Whitey and Stu saw the men we’re looking for. They traded your mules for a horse, then headed north.”

  “North?” Maggie turned to face him. “Then we’ve gone right by them!”

  Sage shrugged, glad for the diversion from the feel of her in his arms. “It’s a big country, Maggie, and they obviously took a different trail. The point is they’re trying to throw us off by backtracking. Then again, they’re taking their time, so they might not suspect I’m on their tail at all. Taking so long to get started might benefit us.” He grasped the doorknob.

  “We’ll leave early morning. Right now, I’m sitting in on a card game, just to keep things on a friendly note and to keep my eyes on those men till they go to bed. So don’t be alarmed by how I behave or what I say.”

  He walked out, upset over the fact that he was
starting to care way too much for Maggie Tucker.

  He sat at the table and poured himself a shot. “Deal the cards, boys.”

  Seventeen

  Sage tried hard to hide his foul mood. Too much whiskey, mixed with having to sleep on the floor while Maggie enjoyed the luxury of a mattress, led to an aching back and a headache. He could swear the hard ground was more forgiving than a wood plank floor. The only benefit was that being uncomfortable helped him keep one eye and both ears open for any attempt by someone from the other room to come inside. Whitey kept his promise that no one would bother them, but Cutter never did come back. That gave Sage a very uneasy feeling that led to a miserable, sleepless night.

  He headed north on a straighter path that would keep them about a hundred miles east of Paradise Valley as they backtracked. They would literally ride right past the ranch. His intended destination was Hole-In-The-Wall, a place he knew well. If the men he hunted hoped he’d give up, they’d find out different. He had to make this right for Standing Wolf’s sake… and now, for Maggie too. He arched his shoulders, again remembering that hard floor. “Sleep good last night?” he asked Maggie with a hint of sarcasm.

  Maggie rode beside him rather than behind him. Again, she remained mostly hidden under pants, a wool jacket, and a man’s hat pulled over her red locks, which were tied into a tail and tucked inside her jacket.

  “Slept just fine,” she replied, obviously aware he’d not enjoyed the floor.

  “I know. I heard you snore.” Sage kept an eye on the rocky outcroppings to their left, still worried about Cutter.

  “What? I don’t snore!”

  “Oh, yes, you do.”

  Maggie laughed. “Why haven’t I heard you snore yet?”

  Her laughter warmed his heart. She seemed more relaxed today, probably because she was relieved to learn she had nothing to worry about last night. He’d not gone near her, a feat that turned out to be much more difficult than he’d expected.