There were only five other women present, three of them wives of local business owners, and two of those being the women Maggie had seen standing near the supply store earlier. They introduced themselves as Mary Calus and Elizabeth McKenzie. One of them asked Maggie if she was the same girl they’d seen at the store. When Maggie proudly declared she was, they all had a good laugh.
The fourth woman was the daughter of an older couple. Maggie guessed her to be perhaps sixteen, but she was big as a man—nothing feminine about her. Still, the oversupply of men there seemed happy to dance with any female, manly or not, and the girl was flirting unmercifully with all of them. At times, for lack of feminine partners, men danced with each other, which led to hilarious and colorful remarks.
The fifth woman was a middle-aged widow named Alice Beemer. She’d come here with her husband and opened a laundry. According to Elizabeth, Alice’s husband was killed trying to stop a man from robbing him. The rest of the townsmen promptly caught and hanged the murderer… one of the strange forms of justice in a lawless country. Alice stayed on and continued with the laundry service.
Maggie realized that any number of these men had likely committed crimes and acts of violence outside this haven for outlaws, but inside their own community, they adhered to their own unwritten—and unspoken—laws. Outlaw country seemed removed from the rest of the world, its own little kingdom with its own citizens and its own set of rules.
No one was dressed in frills and suits. Maggie had a feeling few people in this remote little town even owned fashionable clothing, but it didn’t matter. They were simply having fun the best way they could, celebrating the coming of warmer weather after what Ma told her earlier had been a miserably cold, snowy winter that kept most inside for days on end.
It felt good to be off the trail, happy and relaxed. What made it even better was knowing that tonight, she and Sage would sleep together in a real bed. She looked at him now as he turned her to another slow dance, telling herself she couldn’t think about James or her pregnancy or the real reason she and Sage were here in Atlantic City. Tonight was too wonderful. She felt adored and protected.
Another dance ended. Sage struck up a conversation with a local rancher, asking if he’d lost many cattle because of the harsh winter. Maggie saw Ma Pilger setting a pie on the table. She walked over to greet the old woman.
“Ma, you have to stay. Sage will be upset if you leave without at least one dance.”
“Oh, no. I’m not even dressed up.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll bet every single man here will want at least one dance.” Maggie took hold of the woman’s hand and urged her to where Sage stood talking. The fiddlers struck up another waltz as Sage turned to greet Ma. He put out his arms and told Maggie to slice him some pie while he danced “with the prettiest woman here.” He began turning Ma Pilger about the room, while the other men whistled and got in line to cut in.
Maggie walked back to the pies and moved between the table and the wall so she’d be at a better angle to cut into a pie.
“Well, now, ain’t you the best lookin’ woman this side of the Rockies?”
The voice sounded familiar. Maggie looked across the table then felt as though her heart dropped to her feet, along with all her blood. There stood the fat, bald man Sage told her was called Cleve Fletcher, one of the three men who’d raped her. He grinned.
“What’s yer name, honey?”
He didn’t even recognize her! She’d been nothing to him, a woman without a name, someone to poke, then leave lost and alone in a cruel land with her dead husband lying beside her!
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cleve said with a frown. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I ain’t that ugly, am I?” He laughed a familiar, ugly laugh and reached across the table, grabbing her arm. “Come dance with me, darlin’. I just rode into town and heard the music—figured I’d come see what’s up.”
Maggie’s thoughts converged in a mixture of panic, revulsion, and hatred. Sage! Cleve would recognize him the minute Sage turned around! She had to protect Sage!
There was no time to think—no time to run to Sage and warn him. And tonight, she was completely taken by surprise—she wasn’t carrying a gun.
She never expected it all to happen this way. She looked past Cleve, wondering if his two friends were with him, but she saw no one familiar. His eyes darkened more, anger moving into them.
“You gonna dance with me, or do I have to wait outside to catch you for somethin’ more than a dance?”
Maggie jerked her arm away. “Let me get around the other side of the table.” She hurried so she’d be near the main dance floor. The anger left Cleve’s eyes, replaced with the same hideous hunger she’d seen only weeks ago. His cheeks were so fat that his eyes were more like slits in his face.
Quickly, Maggie bolted, hurrying after Sage and grasping his gun.
“What the—” Sage let go of Ma as Maggie turned, raising the six-gun and aiming it at Cleve, whose eyes widened as he went for his own gun.
In an instant, Sage grabbed Maggie’s arm and tackled her to the floor, ripping the pistol out of her hand.
“You!” he heard Cleve yell.
Sage rolled face up to see Cleve’s gun out of its holster. Women screamed and ran. Sage fired, and Cleve stood there a moment, his own six-gun half raised.
“Lightfoot!” he mumbled.
Her elbow hurt from being tackled by someone more than twice her weight. Maggie half sat up, staring at Cleve as he continued to stand there while blood spread outward from a hole in his chest. Maggie ripped the combs from her hair.
“And me!” she screamed. “Remember me?” She let her hair fall. “Remember the woman and her husband alone on the plains south of here?”
Recognition finally sparked in Cleve’s eyes. The life oozed out of him, and his legs folded as he plunked to the floor butt first. Sage got up and walked over to him, grabbing Cleve’s gun from his hand. “Where are the other two?” he demanded. “Are they here in town?”
Cleve looked at him. He shook his head. “…Lander,” he choked out, before the last spark of life left his eyes. He died sitting up… staring.
Sage shoved the man’s six-gun into the waist of his pants and placed his own revolver back in its holster. He put a foot on Cleve’s chest and forced his body out flat before it could completely stiffen. He knelt down then and rummaged through the dead man’s pockets, pulling a leather money pouch from inside his jacket. He grabbed some bills and counted them while everyone stared. Then Sage ripped a chain watch from the man’s belt.
He rose, shoving the money and watch into the front pocket of his pants. He glanced around the room. “This man and two of his friends once worked for me. They killed my best ranch hand, abused his wife, and stole money from me. I intend to get all of it back. Anybody here object to me taking what money this one had?” He rested a hand on his six-gun.
People shook their heads.
“You got a right, mister,” one man spoke up.
Others nodded.
Suddenly, a man bolted out of the barn, as though frightened.
“Polk!” Sage shouted. He ran after the man. Maggie wondered when on earth John Polk had snuck inside… and what he might have to do with what just happened. Ma Pilger and Elizabeth helped her to her feet. Outside, a shot was fired.
“Sage,” Maggie muttered. Was he all right?
Everything became so quiet inside the barn that they all heard a horse gallop away.
To Maggie’s relief, Sage stormed back inside and up to Maggie. “The sonofabitch got away!” he growled. “I couldn’t keep shooting into the dark for fear of hitting someone else.” He took hold of Maggie’s arm supportively and then scanned the staring crowd. “The man I just killed is called Cleve Fletcher,” he explained. “The others I’m looking for are a younger one called Jimmy Hart, and an old bearded man called Jasper. The one who just rode off is a big man called John Polk. He’s an abuser of women. Has anybody
here ever heard of them?”
Nearly all shook their heads, most still watching in shock and surprise. Finally, Ma Pilger walked up to Sage. “You’d best take Maggie back to the rooming house,” she told him. “She’s lookin’ pale, Sage. The men here will take care of that one.” She glanced at Cleve’s body.
Maggie looked at Sage and knew by his demeanor that he was angry with her for grabbing his gun the way she did.
“Maggie and I will be heading out in the morning,” he told Ma. “Dying men usually don’t lie, so I’m figuring Fletcher told the truth about the other two being in Lander. I have a damn good idea that’s where Polk is headed too.”
He looked around the room again.
“Sorry for ruining the dance, folks. Go on with the music. There won’t be any more trouble.” He turned to Maggie, who suddenly felt ill. Being surprised by Cleve reopened ugly memories that got the better of her. She started to sway, felt someone lift her. “Sage,” she murmured.
He picked her up and carried her out.
Twenty-seven
Maggie felt Sage’s anger. He was stiff with it. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. “I was afraid that if I called out your name, or if that man noticed you first, he’d shoot you before you realized he was there. All I could think to do was grab your gun and shoot him first.”
Sage didn’t reply. He kept walking until they reached Ma’s place. He set her on her feet, then took her arm and led her to their room. He turned up a lantern Ma had left lit.
“I forgot Ma’s shawl,” Maggie said.
“She’ll find it.” Sage began undressing. “Get your clothes off. We’ll both need our rest. We’ll leave early for Lander.” It was an order. He’d become the angry outlaw again.
Maggie began undressing. She stepped out of her dress and let it fall, then removed her many slips and unlaced her camisole. The magic of the night was ruined, and she wanted to cry. She took off the camisole and laid it aside, then pulled on her robe.
She walked to the other side of the bed, her back to Sage as he finished undressing. She unlaced her shoes, something else Sage bought from the harlot named Louellen. The air in the room seemed too heavy. Everything was different. Sage was different. In spite of the warm night, Maggie felt cold.
“I only got six hundred dollars off that bastard,” Sage grumbled. “They took four thousand. I hope I find the rest on the other two. If they divided it up, maybe I’ll at least get another fifteen hundred of it back. God knows how much they spent on horses, whores, and gambling. And now, I’m wondering what John Polk might have had to do with all this.”
Maggie didn’t reply, not sure what words might soothe his anger or make him madder. She sat on the side of the bed… waiting… not sure what for. A beating? No—not from Sage Lightfoot. A good tongue-lashing? Surely, she’d get that much. She felt the bed moving and noticed the room dim as Sage apparently turned down the lantern. His arm came around her then, and he pulled her under the covers… and into his arms.
“Damn it, Maggie, did I hurt you when I pushed you down?”
“I don’t think so. I’m still in shock.” Maggie shivered. “I never expected to see that man’s face, Sage. I couldn’t believe it.”
Sage pressed her closer. “I should have been more alert. This is an example of why you can never let your guard down in this country. Promise me you’ll never try to take things into your own hands again.”
Maggie snuggled her face into his neck. “I promise.”
Sage wrapped a hand into her hair. “Seeing that son of a bitch must bring back ugly memories.”
She moved an arm around his middle, loving the feeling of safety in his arms. Sage stroked her hair, and in the next moment, he covered her mouth in a fiery kiss as he pushed open her robe.
“Let me take it away, Maggie,” he offered, his voice husky with desire. “Let me help erase the bad memories.”
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the taste of his mouth, the gentle strokes of his hands. “Sage,” she whispered. “His face… that awful face…”
“Look at me, Maggie.”
She gazed into his eyes.
“It’s me. Sage. And I promise you, men like that will never touch you again.”
Maggie melted into him, needing to remind herself how good and beautiful this could be. She felt him move inside of her, gently burying himself deep, claiming her, owning her, taking away the ugly memories Cleve Fletcher had revived. This was Sage… and he knew how to make this a matter of ecstasy and joy. Maggie responded from the sheer pleasure he quickly awakened, meeting his gentle rhythm, until she gasped with the splendor of his manhood.
Soon his life spilled into her. He relaxed then, and Maggie could tell most of his initial anger had finally left him. He rolled away from her and scooted up against the headboard.
Maggie put an arm across his solid stomach and rested her head against his chest.
“I shouldn’t have made love to you without protection.” He sighed. “I swore I wouldn’t do that. I just… I wanted to take it all away, Maggie.”
“It’s okay. I needed you to take it all away.” Maggie couldn’t help wondering if the dead man back at the barn dance might be her baby’s father. How could she tell Sage such a thing?
“Still, I’m sorry.” Sage caressed her hair. “After seeing that bastard, you probably weren’t ready for taking a man.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Sage. I reacted in all the wrong ways.”
He squeezed her closer. “Just don’t grab for my gun again. If I didn’t quickly realize it was you, I might have swung around and clobbered you full force. I could have hurt you really bad before I realized what was happening.”
“I know.”
“Do you see what I mean about the possibility of you being caught without your gun? What if he’d waited till you walked outside? You’d have been as helpless as that night on the prairie.”
“But what if he saw you first? I did what I did so he couldn’t take you off guard.”
“Maggie!” He leaned on one elbow and made her look at him. In the dim light, she could see the determination and sureness in his dark eyes. “How often do I need to remind you that I rode with men like that for years? I’ve handled men far more dangerous than Cleve Fletcher—believe me. Get that through your head, or you’ll get us killed. You might have got Ma killed tonight, or some other innocent person.”
Maggie wilted against him. “He came out of nowhere. And when I realized he didn’t recognize me at first… realized I’d been nothing but a faceless woman that night he and the others—”
Sage put a hand to her lips. “They actually never touched you, Maggie. That’s how I see it. They didn’t touch what’s inside… here.” He ran his fingers between her breasts. “From what you’ve told me, not even your husband touched you that way. I’m the only one who has, so put the others out of your head. I’m the only man you’ve ever given yourself to willingly.”
The words stabbed at her heart. She reached around his neck and pulled him to her, tasting his mouth willingly. “Make love to me again, Sage… the right way.”
He gladly obliged, and the way he moved over her… the way he took her yet again… made her feel beautiful, cherished, protected.
They settled under the covers for some badly needed rest. Tomorrow they would leave for Lander. Soon, this part of their journey would be over. They’d go back to Paradise Valley. Maggie hoped that by then Sage would love her so much that when she told him the truth, he’d actually accept it, and it wouldn’t change his feelings for her. She clung to him, wishing she’d never have to let go.
Twenty-eight
Sage worked the horses and mules hard, in a hurry to reach Lander. Every day was the same, not much talk, a lot of riding, few stops. More than once, Maggie was grateful for the sure-footed steeds Sage had chosen for the trip. One trail took them several days over mountainside cutouts barely wide enough for the animals. They finally reached a point where
they had to dismount and lead the horses by the reins—“Just in case one goes over the edge,” Sage told her.
Maggie dared to glance over the side into what seemed a bottomless canyon. “Just so one of us doesn’t go over the edge,” she muttered, more to herself than to Sage. She felt sick to her stomach, unsure if it was her pregnancy or the reeling height. “How much farther before we start going down instead of up?” she spoke louder to Sage.
“A half mile maybe.” He stopped and looked back. “You okay?”
Maggie took a deep breath. “Well, on this whole journey, whenever we were high, it was always someplace where there was still plenty of ground under us. We’ve never been on such a narrow path.”
Sage turned and kept walking. “It gets a little wider not much farther ahead. Just keep your eyes on the path, and don’t look down.”
Sure. Maggie did as he said. “What happens if we meet someone coming down?”
“Then they have to figure out a way to turn around and go back up till we reach a place wide enough to pass each other.”
Fine. Simple. Maggie thought how, if she wasn’t so damned scared, she’d enjoy stopping to drink in the stunning view. Across the awesome canyon she spotted a cascading waterfall. A green-gray haze drifted lazily around rocky spires that jutted upward from the canyon. Ahead lay endless peaks that stretched into the horizon.
“How far do you think we can see from here?”
“Forty-fifty miles… probably more. Hard to tell. Damn big, isn’t it?”
“Big isn’t a fitting enough word. I’ve never felt so small in my life,” she called aloud. Fifty miles—maybe more. Again, as had happened so often since her attack and James’s death, Maggie couldn’t fathom she was really here. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d end up carrying an outlaw’s baby, while traveling through the most desolate, frightening landscape one could travel… with a man she’d met only eight weeks ago, yet she had already slept with him… already fallen in love with him.
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