Sweet Mountain Magic

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Sage MacKenzie,” Red Dog shouted. “We see smoke at sundown. Remember where see it. Ride toward it, hoping it is you.”

  “What is it, Red Dog?”

  “Crazy Woman. She is at our camp. We hunt, find her on ground, bottom of ridge—wet, hurt head. She say your name many time. We come find.”

  Sage hurriedly saddled his horse and packed his gear onto the spare horse. “When, Red Dog?”

  “Two suns ago. She sick with hot skin, call for you. We come find.”

  “I’ll give you a whole tin of tobacco for this one, Red Dog.”

  “How she get away? You no want?”

  “I took her to Bridger’s place. Some white people were going to take her west with them. But she’s afraid of everybody but me. She ran off. I’ve been searching for her for days.”

  “You keep now?”

  Sage mounted up, his heart full of love and joy. He could only hope she wasn’t sick enough to die. “I wasn’t going to, but now I want to keep her.”

  “She afraid of us. My woman along to help smoke meat to take back to others. She watch over Crazy Woman. Crazy Woman not afraid of her. We have small camp, one day into the mountains.” He grinned. “I think I see my friend Sage and the Crazy Woman for last time, and then when I hunt, I find the crazy one lying on ground. Red Dog was afraid something had happened to his friend. Crazy Woman, she tries to run away, maybe go find you, I think. We tie wrists to stakes so she no run away. She scream and cry—think we mean her harm. I am glad we found you, Sage MacKenzie. Soon we would have to let her run away again. She is great burden for Indians on hunt and for my woman, who is busy preparing meat.”

  “I understand, Red Dog. I’ll take her off your hands. Lead the way.”

  As they rode off, Sage’s heart leapt with joy but ached as well as he realized how awful it would be for his Venado to be tied. He understood why Red Dog had done it, but he believed the poor woman would be terrified. Being tied could bring back some terrible memory. He had to get there quickly, hold her, tell her everything was all right, tell her he’d never leave her behind again. He could only hope she wouldn’t die of some fever or sickness before he got there.

  Chapter Seven

  The fever raged inside her, making her too weak to tug anymore at the ties that bound her wrists. The painted people who had found her terrified her, but she could not remember why. Something…something from a past she struggled to recall but could not. All she remembered was Sage MacKenzie. Why had he gone away? She needed him, trusted him, loved him. She recalled nothing beyond the day Sage had found her sitting at the burned-out wagon. She didn’t even know the identity of the man who had been under the wagon, or why she had been wearing the strange dress of skins with the design on it that frightened her.

  Comanche. That was the word Sage and the other men had used. Somehow she connected that word with these painted people, and both made her want to run. If only Sage were here. He would protect her. When he had been around, there had been times her mouth had wanted to form words, her voice had wanted to speak. Why hadn’t her mind allowed the words to come? What was the unknown terror that made her speechless, kept her from remembering anything?

  Some things were so familiar, like cooking. Somehow she knew she had done that before, somewhere, for someone. And she was aware enough of her emotions to know she loved Sage MacKenzie, wanted to please him, knew what a woman was supposed to do to please a man. There had been that tiny bit of terror the first time Sage had entered her, as though a pinprick of memory was telling her someone else had done that to her, someone fierce and mean. But there had been nothing mean in Sage’s eyes, nothing forceful about him. He’d been all gentleness.

  Sage was a good man. He had even killed that one bad man for her. She sensed it had made him feel bad to do it, but he had protected her. She had been so sure he loved her, so sure he would always be there. Why had he left? She had tried so hard to find him, but it had been so dark, and then it had gotten cold and wet and she had not been able to find her way. She remembered falling, then awakening to find herself being pulled on a travois, being taken away by the painted men, who had held her down and tied her wrists when she had tried to run away again. Throughout this ordeal, her memories of her past remained elusive, though she could recall with vivid clarity the time she and Sage had spent together.

  She had to find Sage. That’s all she knew. That was the only way she would be safe. Sage! Where was Sage? She had felt sicker and sicker until she could struggle no more at the ties. The painted woman who helped her seemed kind enough, and the men looked familiar. Were they the same ones who had come upon Sage’s camp fire that day, catching him asleep? Yes, perhaps that was who they were. Perhaps she shouldn’t be afraid of them, for Sage had called them friends.

  She had tried not to be afraid of all these strange people, had tried to stay with the white people Sage had told her to go with. But everyone frightened her—everyone but Sage. She had just wanted to find him to ask if he would be coming back for her. She simply could not understand why he had gone, why he had thought it best for her to be with people she didn’t even know. Her mind swirled between reality and fantasy; immediate memory mixed with a constant struggle to remember more, to know who she was, how she had gotten here, who the man with the wagon had been. But none of it would come, and there were moments when she sensed the deeper memories would not come because to remember would be unbearable.

  She struggled now just to swallow. Sometimes the dark woman would put something cool on her forehead and it would help soothe her hot skin. Sometimes she smelled strange smells when the woman would fan the steam toward her from an odd concoction cooking over a low fire. The woman would chant something, and when she did it frightened her, for she vaguely remembered other chanting somewhere…somewhere in her past.

  She heard voices then, men’s voices. The painted men were returning. But there was another voice, one more familiar. She opened her eyes to see only blurry figures, two men, one of them big…

  “Venado!” The big man leaned close.

  “Sage!” She thought she shouted the name, but it came out in a weak whisper. It was he! It was Sage MacKenzie! How had he found her? And why had he come? Was he going to keep her with him? “Sage!”

  She wanted to say more, but again the words would not come. He reached over and cut the leather ties on her wrists. She tried to reach up for him, and he seemed to sense she couldn’t even raise her arms. He bent down and pulled her into his own powerful arms, holding her close. How wonderful it felt! Sage! He had come back! He’d come back for her! The tears came and he rocked her in his arms.

  “Don’t cry, Venado,” he told her. “Don’t cry and don’t be afraid. I’m here and I won’t let you go again. Thank God you’re alive.”

  Sage was here. She was safe now. Safe.

  “I love you,” she heard him whisper.

  She wanted to reply, tell him she loved him, too. But again the words would not come. The only thing she could say was his name, but he seemed to know what she really meant. And she knew in return how much it meant for a man like Sage MacKenzie to admit to love.

  For two days Sage hardly did more than sit and hold his Venado, all the while pondering what he had done. He had said it. He had actually said it. He loved her. It was as though he hadn’t even realized it himself until he had actually uttered the words. Now he had come for her, and there would be no turning back, no leaving her again. Even if he changed his mind, he would not be able to bring himself to desert her. The look in those violet eyes had told all—the joy she had felt at seeing him again, the love and trust she was giving him. For all he knew, there was some reason he had found her in the first place. But the situation brought a new fear with it, something he could not fight with weapons, something he could not physically stop.

  What if he lost her now, after all? What would happen when she remembered who she was? What kind of mess had he gotten himself into, falling in love with this slip of a wo
man whose mind wasn’t all there? For a while it had seemed possible that none of it would matter, for she had been dangerously ill when he had found her. But seeing him again, being held in his arms, had seemed to bring a dramatic improvement.

  “Sage best medicine,” Red Dog’s wife had said once. “Woman be well now.”

  It appeared she most certainly would. Her fever had finally left her, and now Sage gently washed her inside the warm tipi. They were alone. Her violet eyes watched him intently as he sponged her naked body. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and he could not get over the fact that he, an uneducated, worthless mountain man, had enjoyed the body of this truly perfect specimen of woman; nor could he get over the guilt that he had ravaged her out of sheer need.

  It wasn’t that way now. He wanted to make love to her again. But it would be different the next time. He wanted her for more than satisfying his animal instincts. He just plain wanted her—loved her.

  “You’re gonna be all right now, Venado,” he told her. He dried her legs, rubbing them briskly, his eyes lingering for a moment on the soft patch of hair between her legs. He covered her then with a buffalo robe, hating to hide the silken skin, the full, delicious breasts. He would taste them again, invade her again. As soon as she was well enough, he would take her out of this camp and they would find a place to be alone.

  He found it impossible to think beyond the night. He could only take one day at a time.

  “I don’t even know what the hell I’ll do now,” he continued, setting the pan of water aside. “I don’t know where to go, how to support us. I’m a man without much of a future, Venado. And you’re a woman without a past. We make some pair, don’t we?” He smiled at her and she smiled in return, taking a hand from under the robe and grasping his arm.

  “Sage.” Her eyes sparkled with love and trust.

  “Yeah. Sage. I sure as hell wish you could say more than that. But it’s a start. Maybe you’ll just keep saying more and more.” His eyes clouded with sorrow. “And maybe you’ll remember where you really belong.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Until then, you belong to me. I’ll just have to take the risk of loving you and maybe losing you, Venado. ’Cause I sure can’t leave again. Not this time.” He held her eyes. “I won’t leave you behind again, honey. That’s a promise. You don’t have to be afraid every time I walk out of this tipi. Pretty soon we’ll leave together. The only thing I can think to do for now is hole up in these mountains for the winter. I know where there’s a deserted cabin, just hours from Fort Bridger. We can be alone there, live like man and wife. I’d make you my real wife, only there’re no preachers in these parts now and won’t be for a long time. Even if there were, with you the way you are, I couldn’t really marry you. You wouldn’t even know for sure what you’re doing.”

  He took her hand. “So I guess I’m saying, when the time is right, I want you to be my wife. But until then, I’ll love you just as much as any husband, take care of you, protect you. You’ll be my woman and I’ll be your man. That’s all that’s needed out in this land. God knows about those things. He knows it’s all right.”

  He turned to a pot of stew bubbling over the fire. He picked up a bone ladle and poured some of the stew onto a tin plate from his own gear, then took a spoon he’d fashioned himself from elk bone and dipped it into the stew. He held the food to her lips.

  “Eat something, Venado. You’re too thin. You’ve got to eat to get completely well.”

  She scooted up slightly, resting against a stack of skins and furs. She opened her mouth and let him feed her. Red Dog came inside then, his eyes lighting up to see her sitting up and eating. The woman looked at him warily, but the look of pure terror didn’t show this time. She was learning that this was a friend of Sage MacKenzie’s and she didn’t have to be afraid of the painted, feathered red man.

  “She get better fast, since Sage come,” Red Dog told Sage.

  Sage nodded. “I thank you for taking her in, Red Dog; for taking care of her like you and your woman did; trying to find me and all.” He put another spoonful of food into her mouth. “I know we’re pretty much in the way. Soon as I know she’s well enough, we’ll be on our way.”

  “Where you go?”

  “I don’t even know. I think it’s best for her if we’re alone and not surrounded by others too much. I think she needs the peace. She gets flustered and confused with extra people around, like back at the fort. I reckon I’ll go to the fort for supplies, then maybe take her to that deserted cabin northwest of here.”

  “You keep then?”

  Sage nodded, watching her eyes, seeing the same question there. “Yes,” he answered, looking at the woman. “I keep.”

  She smiled and he spooned more stew into her mouth.

  “Sage MacKenzie take woman. Got wife now like Red Dog. Your wife better. She no talk, scold. Red Dog no find fresh meat, wife scold. Your woman, she only smile.”

  Sage chuckled. “Yeah, I reckon it can be an advantage. But I think I’d rather have her talking and scolding me, Red Dog. At least then I’d know what’s really going through that mind of hers. And if she could just remember who she is, it might save a lot of hurt later.” He turned to the Indian. “I have deep feelings for her, Red Dog. But some day she’s gonna come around, and maybe she’ll remember she’s already got a husband.”

  “Mmmm. Bad medicine. Husband no like man touch woman. Kill you maybe.”

  Sage nodded. “Maybe he’d try. But he’d better not take it out on her. If he stops loving her just because she was taken by Indians and loved a man when she had no other memory, then he’s not worth much as a husband in my book. But maybe I’ll get lucky and she won’t have a husband at all.”

  “That be good. She from faraway place, you think?”

  Sage fed her some more. “Yeah. I think maybe Texas, someplace like that.” He studied the violet eyes again. “Texas. You recognize that name, Venado? Texas.”

  Her eyes only studied him lovingly.

  “She looks well bred, Red Dog,” Sage continued then. “I’m thinking maybe she comes from a family with money. That could be just as bad as having a husband.”

  “Red Dog no understand.”

  Sage turned and looked at him. What did money and wealth mean to an Indian? The Indians were totally ignorant and innocent of the things that filled white men with greed and lust. He smiled sadly. “I won’t try to explain, Red Dog. It’s just that a man like me doesn’t mix too well with white men who have a lot of money.” He looked back at the woman. “Fact is, when she remembers who she is, she might not even want me anymore. She might realize I’m not worth her time.”

  “She stay with Sage. She good woman.”

  Sage nodded. “I’m sure she is, even when all her mind is there. But as long as it isn’t, I’m not being completely fair. I mean, it’s a kind of deception, loving her, keeping her with me, bedding her, when she could come around any time and find out she shouldn’t be with me at all. I’m cheating in a way, taking advantage of her condition. But then again”—he continued to watch the violet eyes—“I love her. I’d never do her wrong, and I won’t keep her with me just to have a woman around. I’m doing it because I care about her, and when she remembers, if she still wants me, we’ll be married the legal way.”

  “With Indian, it is enough just to be together. No need strange papers like white man.”

  Sage fed her the rest of the stew and urged her to lie down. He was getting more anxious now to bed her again, to recapture the beauty and mystery of being one with her, to feel again the thrill of moving inside her, of exploring, tasting, loving.

  “That’s the way I feel, too, Red Dog,” he answered. He turned and looked at the Indian. “You’ll send Black Wolf to tell Sax Daniels I found her?”

  Red Dog nodded. “He will tell. We break camp soon, MacKenzie. Go south. Take fresh meat to others.”

  Sage nodded. “We’ll be ready to travel ourselves by then. We’ll be all right.”

&
nbsp; “Red Dog see MacKenzie again, when sun warms mountains and snow melts?”

  Sage sat back on his heels. “I don’t know, Red Dog. Depends on what’s happened by then—if she remembers and all. I might be on my way someplace else by then, taking her home. But I’d leave word for you somehow. And I’d miss you, friend.”

  “Maybe you take her far away, never come back?”

  Sage watched him for a long, quiet moment, suddenly feeling all he’d ever known slipping away, his life changing before his eyes, fate dealing all the cards.

  “Maybe. Maybe I’ve taken all I can from these mountains, Red Dog; and maybe they’ve given me all they can in return. Maybe someday soon it will be time for me to get on with another kind of life. I’ve felt it coming lately.”

  Red Dog nodded. “It not be easy for Sage MacKenzie. Mountains in your heart, your breath, your blood. You like Indian, MacKenzie. You not true white man. You have Indian spirit. Need mountains like breath. Need freedom like Indian.”

  Sage turned to look at the woman, whose sad, violet eyes hinted that perhaps she understood what Red Dog was saying. “I guess I’ll have to find out for myself just what I need, decide what’s most important, won’t I?” he returned, looking back at Red Dog.

  The Indian nodded. “Someday maybe Indian make same choices how live. Maybe too many white men come. You think?”

  Sage felt an odd pain in his heart. “I hope not, Red Dog. I hope things can stay the same for you.”

  The Indian nodded. “MacKenzie knows. MacKenzie good man. I go now.” The man left quickly and silently, just as he had entered. Sage turned to the woman, feeling many things changing, yet knowing that whatever changed, he did not want to be without her again. He leaned closer, lightly kissing her lips. She smiled then, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “Sage,” she said softly.

  “I’m sure not the kind of man you ought to be depending on, Venado,” he told her. “But I’ll do my best. Red Dog is right—about the mountains, the freedom. You’re sure turning my life upside down, little woman. That’s a fact.”