Rosanne Bittner

by Paradise Valley

  Who was Maggie Tucker? She’d lost her identity… her perspective… her husband and the life she thought she’d be leading, perhaps in Oregon by now. What if her attack had never occurred? She’d have spent the rest of her days in a loveless marriage, working a new farm, never knowing this kind of adventure… never meeting Sage Lightfoot. She remembered once, when she was little, her mother told her that God had a plan for everyone. If His plan was for her to fall in love with Sage, then she could only pray it would last.

  Still, how could Sage possibly care about some other man’s child? If he turned her out, she’d find a way to raise her baby and never tell him or her about its beginnings. She’d make something up about the father—make him sound like the most wonderful man who ever lived.

  She couldn’t think of a better man than Sage. What a strong, protective father he would be… could be… if he chose. He’d built his fine home big enough for children, but he’d planned to have those children with Joanna. Why would he want to raise the bastard child of an outlaw? Her heart fell at the thought of how easily his love for her would likely blow away with the Wyoming wind once he saw Joanna again.

  A few rocks let loose and went tumbling, disappearing into the chasm below and bringing Maggie’s thoughts to the current situation. Sage stopped and looked back.

  “I’m all right,” she assured him.

  “They say that on this trail even the horses and mules pray.”

  “I have no doubt they do,” Maggie answered.

  Minutes later, as Sage promised, the roadway finally widened. How the road even came to be was a mystery. How many men had died when they first searched for a way over this mountain? How many more died chipping at the mountainside, probably using dynamite to create this excuse of a road?

  After another hour of walking as close to heaven as Maggie figured she’d ever be without dying, they headed downward. Maggie soon realized that going down was no less harrowing than going up… maybe worse.

  “Do we have to come over this trail when we head back to Paradise Valley?” she asked Sage, nervously wanting to keep a conversation going.

  “No,” Sage answered. “To get back to the ranch, we’ll head farther east first, then south. That country is more open. We’ll mostly be looking at the mountains instead of traveling through them.”

  Thank God.

  They finally reached an area where the path widened considerably for a good half mile.

  “We’ll camp here. The horses need a rest after that climb.”

  The horses need a rest?

  “Going down is about as difficult as coming up,” Sage continued. “I don’t want the horses trying to fight gravity and loosen stone when they’re tired out.”

  Heaven forbid. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m all for stopping,” she agreed. “Will we be able to make a fire?”

  Sage looked at the scrubby growth on the side of the mountain. “Not from anything up here, but we should have enough left from the wood bundle we brought to make one later. We’ll wait till it’s darker. It’ll get pretty cold up here, even though it’s plenty warm now in the valleys.” He unloaded some of his gear.

  Maggie watched him thoughtfully. Again, while they traveled, he’d said nothing about loving her, and nothing more about their encounter with Cleve Fletcher. Once they were on the trail, he was all business, and now, more than ever, he was zeroed in on finding Fletcher’s friends, as well as John Polk. He reminded Maggie of a hound on the scent. They’d traveled so hard and fast that neither had the energy at night to consider making love, let alone how uncomfortable it would be.

  They made camp and ate some cold biscuits Ma had given them. The old woman hugged them before they left, wished them luck. Maggie liked Ma. She had a feeling the old woman would have understood what she was going through right now. Maybe Ma could have given her some advice.

  Darkness came rapidly, as it always did out here. Sage built a fire, and they spread their bedrolls close to it.

  “We’d better take turns keeping watch of the horses and mules,” Sage told her. “There could be wolves or grizzlies up here—usually not this high, but you never know.”

  “Well, after being so tense all the way up here, I could use some sleep first, if you don’t care,” Maggie told him.

  “Fine with me.” Sage rolled and lit a cigarette. “By the way, you aren’t carrying, are you?”

  The question took Maggie by complete surprise. Her heart pounded. Did he somehow know? “What?” she asked, hardly able to find her voice.

  “Back there in Atlantic City… I still feel guilty that I didn’t use protection. I was so damn mad and worked up over what happened that I just didn’t care.”

  Maggie breathed a little easier, but his question made lying feel like she was stabbing him in the back. “I wouldn’t know this soon. It would take me another month to know for sure.”

  Sage smoked quietly. “Good. By then, we should be back at the ranch where we can talk things out.”

  Talk things out? Was he having doubts? Was he thinking about that letter from Joanna and how he’d feel if he saw her again?

  “Sage.”

  “Yeah?”

  “No matter what happens, I love you and always will.” Maggie watched the red embers of the end of his cigarette as he drew on it. He exhaled as he walked to where she stood and wrapped his arms around her. Maggie breathed in his now-familiar scent.

  “Same here,” he answered. “Now go to sleep. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”

  Maggie knew that’s all she would get out of him. Same here. That was better than nothing at all. For now, he was Sage Lightfoot the hunter. Tender moments would be scarce while on the trail of men he intended to kill.

  Twenty-nine

  Mud splattered everywhere as Sage and Maggie headed toward the main street of Lander, Wyoming, another town Sage frequented in his outlaw days. He often wondered how and why he’d managed to survive the wild, lawless life he once led, constantly on the hoof, and never sure when the man behind him might shoot him in the back. How many of the men he once rode with were gone now… dead from violence or disease or too much drink? Being back in this country and around men like Cutter and Cleve Fletcher reminded Sage of the life he’d gladly left behind when he settled in Paradise Valley.

  He finally had a place to call home… and he missed it. He even missed Joanna, but not the Joanna who’d left him. He missed the Joanna he’d loved in his youth.

  Now there was Maggie Tucker to consider, an up-front, no tricks, no-strings-attached woman who fit ranch life like one of his cowboys. She was brave, rugged… yet beautiful in a tiny, fragile way. Her outward appearance belied her tough innards, and in someone like Maggie, a man had a true partner. Woman or not, and despite her size, in many ways she was his equal. And damned if she couldn’t, by God, bring him right down to her size when she wanted.

  Two days of steady rain, highly unusual for this time of year, left them drenched and eager for a dry bed. They passed a lumberyard, where a team of sixteen mules pulling a wagon piled with logs headed into the street. The wagon’s wheels were a good foot wide and made of iron—the wagon itself obviously reinforced to carry extra weight. Sage figured so much lumber must be for a pretty big building, maybe a school.

  He shook his head at the thought of a school in a place like this. On a distant hill he noticed a steeple… a church. This once-wild town might become a settled, law-abiding place after all. It was a lot bigger than the last time he was here. They rode past a bank, a dry goods store, a livery, lawyer’s offices, a doctor’s office, a billiards hall, a feed store, a leather goods store, hat shops, and of course, several saloons.

  Sage recognized three of the saloons, but the others were new since he was here last. At least the place was big enough now that there should be a decent hotel or rooming house where he and Maggie could again sleep in a real bed.

  He glanced at Maggie, huddled under her floppy leather hat as rain dripped off its bri
m. The trip over the dangerous mountain trail had taken its toll, let alone riding in the rain the last two days. Sage continued to be impressed by her dogged determination to complete this journey. Most women would have given up a long time ago. Joanna would never have come along in the first place.

  He kept a watchful eye on the people who eyed them from the boardwalks and from the stoops of buildings. Lander was not so big that its inhabitants didn’t notice newcomers, which meant he should be able to find Jimmy Hart and the man named Jasper, as well as John Polk, if indeed, they were here. He decided he’d first get Maggie settled in a decent room where she could bathe and rest, then he’d pay a visit to the saloons and whorehouses, the most likely places to find the men he was after.

  He’d much rather Maggie wasn’t along when he found them. He hated the risk of her getting hurt, and he worried she’d make another rash decision if she saw them. The crazy woman kept thinking she could do this herself, as well as thinking she needed to protect him. He shook his head at the memory of how she’d shot that grizzly, staved off wolves, and then decided she’d shoot Cleve Fletcher. He could smile about it now, but it sure wasn’t funny at the time.

  They reached a side street where he saw a sign on the corner that read Kate’s Rooms, with an arrow pointing to the right. Sage reined Storm in that direction. He had no idea if the rooms were decent, but the rain came down so hard now that he was ready to take shelter no matter what kind of place it was.

  Thunder rolled in the distance, and Storm balked. Sage thought about Maggie being afraid of storms. He needed to get her inside. Lightning flashed, and another clap of thunder quickly followed. He looked back to see Maggie calming an unsettled Smoke. He rode back to grab hold of the horse’s bridle. “I’ll get you out of this quick,” he told Maggie. “Come on.”

  He kicked Storm into a faster gait and headed for the two-story frame house called Kate’s. A picket fence outlined an attempt at growing grass in the front yard, and a couple of budding rosebushes adorned each side of the porch steps. Sage quickly dismounted and tied the horses and mules, then walked around Storm to help Maggie down, but she’d already dismounted.

  “I can’t wait to get out of this rain,” she declared as she hurried past him and through the fence gate. She bounded onto the front porch to get out of the pounding torrent. Sage took a couple of long strides behind her and leapt onto the porch without using the steps.

  They knocked on the front door of the rooming house, and a dark-haired, voluptuous, but aging woman answered. Immediately, her eyes widened with recognition. “Sage Lightfoot! Come on in!”

  Sage was dumbfounded. There stood someone from his past, and he couldn’t have been more pleased to see her again. “Kate Bassett?”

  “You’re lookin’ at her, honey!” The woman opened her arms, and Sage walked into them. After a long embrace, Sage heard the door close behind them. He realized Maggie must be a bit taken aback by the way he’d greeted the woman who answered the door. Before he could explain anything, Kate captured his attention.

  “Where have you been, cowboy?” she asked. “God, you seem even taller than I remembered!” She squeezed him around the middle again, then stepped back and looked him over. “No less handsome, I see,” she added with a grin. “You’re the best-looking man who ever rode outlaw country!”

  Sage laughed. “And you’re still a damn good-looking woman, Kate.” She was older, but still had the pretty skin he remembered. Although she’d gained several pounds, she still had a hell of a shape. “What are you doing running a rooming house in Lander?”

  Kate shrugged. “Don’t you remember me telling you once that I was saving my money to open a legitimate business?” she answered with a wink. “I did just that. I’ve had this place for a year now, and I’m doing pretty good. I heard you settled someplace—built yourself a ranch. I even heard you got married.” Her gaze turned to Maggie. “This your wife?”

  Sage removed his hat. “Not yet, but as soon as we take care of our business here, that’s likely to change. And yes, I was married, but she divorced me and took off for California—didn’t like ranch life.”

  Kate shook her head. “Any woman who’d run off on you has marbles for brains. You should have asked me to settle with you.” She laughed lightly and looked at Maggie again. “Don’t take me seriously, honey. That big Indian and I go back a ways, but it was a few years ago.” She shook her head. “Sweetheart, get that hat off and shrug off that wet jacket. You look like a cold, wet little deer.”

  “I feel like one,” Maggie answered, removing her hat.

  Sage saw the wonder in Maggie’s eyes, felt her tension and curiosity.

  “My, my, look at that pretty red hair!” Kate exclaimed. She reached out and took Maggie’s hat from her, then frowned at Sage. “For Pete’s sake, Sage, she looks like a kid.”

  Sage grinned and put an arm around Maggie, who wasn’t too fond of the realization that Kate and Sage knew each other intimately. Kate’s remark about a “legitimate” business told Maggie all she needed to know. “Believe me, Kate, she’s no kid. This is Maggie Tucker, and don’t be fooled by her size. She can handle herself like no woman I’ve ever known up to now. The reason we’re here is a long story. I’ll tell it to you later over a cup of coffee.”

  Kate nodded. “Well, you obviously need a room and dry clothes before you come into the kitchen for that coffee.” She took Maggie’s arm. “I’ll take the little lady here to a room and start preparing a bath for her. I have a man who lives out back who can take care of your horses. Take them around back, Sage, and bring your gear into the kitchen after you unload it, so your things can dry out.”

  “Thanks. Our horses and mules need to be rubbed down and fed some oats.”

  “Well, my man is called Newell McCabe. He’s a damn good friend and sometimes more than that. He’ll take care of the animals for you.” Kate led Maggie down a hallway.

  Maggie glanced at Sage with a rather helpless look. He gave her a reassuring smile. Poor Maggie had come upon yet another rude awakening to the kind of life he’d once led, and she didn’t know what to think. One thing was sure. Once they got through all of this, if Maggie Tucker still loved and wanted him, there would be no doubt that her love was real. Any woman who would put up with his past and accept him just the way he was couldn’t be more fitting for life at Paradise Valley, but first they both had to make it home alive.

  Thirty

  Kate poured another bucket of hot water into the tin tub she’d set up for Maggie. “I told Sage to stay in the kitchen and have some coffee with Newell while you take a bath.”

  “Sage needs a bath too. He’s as soaked and tired as I am.” Maggie was unsure how she should react to Kate Bassett. It was obvious she’d been special to Sage at one time. He apparently trusted her implicitly because he’d told Kate right off that they weren’t married. Up until now, he’d been so adamant that people believe they were husband and wife.

  “Don’t worry, honey. He’ll get his bath.” Kate carried the empty bucket to the bedroom door. “I’ll bring in one more bucket. I keep plenty of hot water around so I can fix up a bath pretty quick for anybody who needs one. Makes for better business. I keep meaning to put the words Hot Baths on my sign, but I haven’t got around to it yet. You get undressed and climb in. I’ll soap you up and wash your hair for you.”

  Maggie stood there a bit dumbfounded. “I can do it myself.”

  Kate waved her off. “Get those clothes off, and let somebody pamper you. If you’ve been on the trail a long time in this country, you need pampering. And believe me, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen. I used to run a place with ten girls working for me. I know that probably shocks you, but that’s the way life is out here for some women. Don’t be offended.”

  “It’s not that. I’m just not used to undressing in front of somebody.”

  Kate laughed, a deep, genuine, good-hearted laugh. “Except for Sage, I’ll bet.” She left, and Maggie hurriedly undressed and
climbed into the tub.

  Kate returned with the last bucket and dumped the water into the tub, then walked to a dresser and grabbed a bar of soap. “This is good soap, not so harsh, and it smells good too. Nothing but the best for Kate’s customers, I say.” She walked over and dipped the soap into the water. “Put your feet up, and I’ll give you a foot massage,” she told Maggie. “Let me do something nice for Sage Lightfoot’s future wife.”

  Maggie wasn’t so sure that would turn out to be true, but she said nothing. She put her feet up on the edge of the tub and relished the welcome massage.

  “So, you’re crazy in love with Sage, I’ll bet.”

  Maggie blushed. “I love him very much.” For the next several minutes, Maggie found herself pouring out her story of how she and Sage met, what had happened to her, the unhappiness of her first marriage, why she and Sage were on the trail. Kate had a way of making a person spill out their hearts, a surprising motherly air about her that made her an easy confidante. By the time she finished her story, her bath was over, and her hair was washed.

  “You have a beautiful strength and spirit, Maggie. Sage sees that, I’m sure.” Kate turned and grabbed a large towel, then held it open. “Come on. Climb out.”

  Maggie obeyed, wrapping herself into the towel. “I’ve never been treated so royally,” she told Kate. “All the people I meet who once knew Sage are so good to me.”

  Kate laughed lightly. “That’s because they have so much respect for Sage, and they love anybody Sage loves. He needs a woman who’s as strong-minded as he is, a woman who’s tough. I’ve just met you, and I already like you, mainly because I can tell you make Sage happy. Sage and me—we go back a long way. He’s a man who deserves to be happy—a man who’s easy to love. And I have a feeling that even though Sage could throw you across the room, you have a way of hauling in the reins and making him do whatever you want.”