Sweet Mountain Magic

by Rosanne Bittner

  She only hugged him tighter. He ran a callused hand over her small, bare back, longing to do more. Soon. Very soon he would make love to her again, and he would know he had, by God, made the right decision.

  “I love you, woman,” he told her. “And I reckon in your own way you love me, at least for now. God only knows how you’ll feel when you come around—how either of us will feel—or even how long Sage MacKenzie can settle down some with a woman, how I’ll take care of you. But we’ll find a way, won’t we?”

  She leaned back and smiled, then sobered slightly, making an s sound hesitantly. He thought she was going to say his name again. She drew out the sound, her violet eyes intent then, her hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

  “S—s—s…s—s…stay?”

  Sage frowned, as surprised as he was the first day she had spoken his name. He realized that both times she had spoken, it had been out of fear that he would go away. He broke into a smile.

  “By God, Venado, I’m proud of you,” he told her, grasping her shoulders. “You said another word!”

  She didn’t smile. She only searched his eyes, almost desperately. “Stay?” she asked again.

  He nodded, petting her long, lustrous hair. “Yes. Sage will stay. I told you I would. I told you I love you. And someday you’re going to tell Sage the same thing. Someday you’ll talk a blue streak and I’ll probably be wishing to hell you couldn’t talk at all.”

  He smiled reassuringly and she finally smiled in return, hugging him again, almost like a lost child. “Sage stay,” she said softly.

  Inside she struggled so hard to say more. Inside she fought the unknown terror that lurked in the deep corners of her mind, ready to strike. Inside she groped for a memory, strained to see a face from her past, to remember her name. But none of those things would come.

  She wouldn’t worry about it for now. Sage was here, and he was going to stay. She was sure he would love her again in the physical way he had before. She liked being touched by Sage, liked touching him in return, liked making him feel good. It all seemed so right and good. He was her man, and she was his woman, and that was all that mattered for now.

  “I need extra blankets, a couple of buffalo robes, if you’ve got ’em,” Sage told Sax Daniels. “You had plenty along on those horses, but not quite enough to support two people the whole winter.”

  He closed the cabin door against a bitter wind that had come up that morning as he had arrived at Fort Bridger. Venado had moved in behind him, huddling under a wolf-skin coat that was much too big for her. Sage wore a lighter buckskin jacket, with a blanket wrapped around that. He shivered from the winter wind but insisted his woman wear the warmest coat.

  “I know you’re probably pretty low, Sax, but I found the woman and she just got over being bad sick. I don’t want her taking on pneumonia or something.”

  Two strange men looked up as Sax moved over to shake Sage’s hand. “I was glad as hell to hear you’d found her, Sage.” He turned to the woman and nodded, motioning for her to go and sit down by a fire that roared in a stone fireplace. “Have a seat, ma’am. It’s good to see you again.”

  She looked at Sage with wary eyes. “Sage stay?”

  Sage sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re back at the place where I left you before. I won’t leave you this time. Sage will stay. You go get warmed up by the fire. I just came here to get a couple of things. We’ve got to leave yet today for that cabin or we might never make it there at all.”

  “You goin’ up to that old deserted cabin west of here, Sage?” Sax asked.

  Sage’s wary eyes moved to the two strange men, who were both staring at the woman as she sat down near the fire. “Yeah,” he answered. “You got the things I need?” he asked then, moving his eyes back to Sax. “I could use a little straw, too. I could pull a bale behind my horse or tie it to the travois. That ole cabin doesn’t have a floor in it. The straw will help keep things cleaner. I could use a few extra pans and things, too, and more flour and salt and lard.”

  “I’ll see what’s left at the supply house.” Sax pulled on a heavy fur coat. “I figured you’d be showin’ up here, Sage, if you found her.”

  “I owe you, Sax, for coming to tell me.”

  “No trouble. Us mountain men got to stick together.” Sax headed for the door. “Jim still ain’t back. Must have decided to stay in the wilds for a while. These walls get to him sometimes. Hope he’s stockin’ up on meat.”

  Sax went out and Sage turned to greet the two strangers.

  “Guess Bridger is like all of us,” one of them spoke up, seeming to be gauging Sage’s size and strength. “We can only stay inside just so long—stay in one place a little while. Then we got to be movin’ again.”

  Sage nodded. “Name’s Sage MacKenzie. I don’t recall seeing you two before.”

  “We’re new out here. Come to see the wilderness, so to speak,” the second man answered. “Name’s Terrence Lowe. This here is my friend, Johnny White.”

  Sage nodded to both of them. “A man wants to see the wilderness, he comes out in the spring, not when it’s near winter. This is a bad time to be out here, especially if you’re greenhorns.”

  “We’ll survive. We been around,” Johnny answered. He was younger, perhaps twenty. His pale blue eyes moved slyly to the woman again. “Looks like you’re gonna have a mighty warm, happy winter yourself. A woman in bed always warms things up a bit.”

  Sage remained standing, putting a cigar in his mouth. “That it does.”

  “She yours? Your wife or somethin’?” Terrence asked.

  It appeared to Sage that beneath the man’s several-day-old beard and the dirt on his face, his lips were wet, as though his mouth was watering.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “She’s my wife.”

  Johnny snickered. “Men out here don’t have wives. They have captives, maybe; or some woman they bought. But they don’t have wives.” His eyes moved over Sage. “I think you’re just some selfish ole mountain man who don’t want to share his bounty.”

  Sage lowered his hands from lighting the cigar. “And I think I’m just a tough ole mountain man who’ll kill the first man that thinks he can touch my woman.”

  Their eyes held while the room hung silent. The one called Johnny forced a renewed grin then. “I reckon you are.” He scratched at his tumbling blond hair. “The winters must be long and lonesome out here. Man could get as hungry for a woman as he does for fresh meat.”

  Sage nodded. “I met another man that hungry a while back. He’s not hungry anymore, if you know what I mean. Fact is, he’s food for the wolves himself.”

  He pulled out his revolver and sat down at the table, setting the pistol in front of him and picking up a deck of cards. “You boys want to play a couple hands while I wait for Sax?”

  The two men looked at each other. Sage’s huge frame seemed to fill the room, and he looked like a man who knew what he was about. They were new out here, running from the law in the East. They’d had no choice if they wanted to keep from being hung. This Sage MacKenzie looked like a man another didn’t face head on. Johnny picked up the cards and began dealing.

  “I don’t suppose you’d gamble for the woman,” he said carefully.

  “No. I don’t suppose I would,” Sage answered.

  Johnny nodded. He looked at Terrence again. Maybe they’d follow this Sage MacKenzie to the little cabin in the mountains. Maybe they’d catch him off guard and kill him. What better way to spend the winter than in a nice warm little cabin, with plenty of food and a pretty woman to share?

  Sage put a little pouch of gold coins on the table, and for several minutes there was only the sound of shuffling cards, grunted remarks, and the squeak of the rocker where Venado sat rocking in front of the fire.

  “So, you two on your way to California or something?” Sage asked then.

  “No place special. Just got a hankerin’ to get away from civilization.”

 
; “Somebody chasing your tail?”

  Terrence laughed lightly. “Could be you ask too many questions. I always heard men out here didn’t ask no questions.”

  “Don’t usually, when it’s only himself that matters. When he’s got something to protect, he gets a might nosier.” He threw down his cards. “You called, Lowe. Three Kings. Can you beat them?”

  Terrence threw in his cards. Johnny White had already folded and had shifted his eyes again to Venado, prompting Sage to make the remark about protecting what was his.

  “The money’s yours,” Terrence told Sage. He started dealing again when Sax returned.

  “Got most of what you need outside, Sage. Even found some canned fruit and jellies Bridger bought off a supply train headed for California a while back. They’ll cost you. He paid dearly for them to have for himself. He’ll have my hide when he finds out I sold some of them to you.”

  “He won’t mind once you tell him about the woman,” Sage answered, scooping up his winnings. “This will help some.”

  “Just a little gold—whatever you think it’s all worth, Sage. Snow’s comin’ hard and fast. You’d best be on your way. I’ll check on you whenever there’s a break in the weather later this winter.”

  Sax turned to the two newcomers. “You never know in these mountains,” he told them. “They can kill a man might quick. It can snow and blow so bad in these parts a man can’t see his hand in front of his face, and your spit freezes before it hits the ground. The next day the sun might come out, and it’s warm enough for a man to take off his jacket. When the weather in the mountains is good, it’s the prettiest sight there ever was. When it turns mean, sometimes a man hates the mountains with a passion. They’re beautiful but cruel, just like some women.”

  Johnny snickered. “Well, then, it looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

  “Looks like,” Sage answered, giving Sax a look that the man understood. He picked up his pistol and walked over to the woman, taking her arm. “Come on,” he said gently. “We have to get going.”

  She quickly got up, as though afraid he’d leave without her. She put the hood of the huge jacket over her head, completely hiding her face, but Johnny White had already gotten a good look at that face, had seen how pretty it was. Sax followed Sage and the woman outside, and Sage lifted her to her horse. They would take the two horses Sax had originally brought to Sage—a brown and white spotted Appaloosa gelding and a gray mare that was young and strong.

  A building, fierce wind blew Venado’s hood off and she had to yank it back over her head and tie it. Sax helped Sage tie on two bales of hay and helped him shove the extra food and blankets into supply bags.

  “You’ll have to get you a few wolves and make yourself some extra coats,” he yelled to Sage above the wind.

  Sage pulled a buffalo robe from his supplies and wrapped it around himself, stuffing the blanket he’d used before into the ropes on the travois on which he carried most of his supplies.

  “I reckon I’ll have to,” he hollered back.

  “You got plenty of ammunition?”

  “Should have.” He walked closer to Sax. “Do me a favor,” he said, leaning closer so he didn’t have to yell. “Keep those men inside busy a while.”

  Sax nodded. “I get the idea.” He pulled his hat down lower. “Take good care of her, Sage. I’ll see you in a couple of months, maybe.”

  Sage nodded. “Tell Bridger I said thanks.” He walked over and mounted up, turning to the woman. “You all right to ride?”

  All he could see was the huge hood nodding. He grinned, excited about being alone with her again. He had not made love to her yet since finding her. He felt like a man leaving for his honeymoon. He turned to Sax and waved, moving northwest then, leading the woman’s horse and the travois it pulled.

  Sax watched them until they were out of sight, then went back inside, where the two strangers were warming their hands at the fire, their coats on.

  “You two thinking of going out into that storm?” Sax asked.

  “Might as well be on our way,” Johnny answered. “If we hurry, we can get over the mountains and back to Fort Laramie before things get worse. We ain’t too excited about spendin’ the whole winter here.” He rose and turned, his jaw dropping in surprise when he saw Sax facing both of them, rifle in hand.

  “Why don’t you two have a seat,” he said calmly. “Nobody goes back over them mountains with a storm comin’. You ain’t headed for Laramie. You got other things in mind.” He grinned. “I figure it won’t take long for the snow out there to cover Sage’s tracks. He’d not like it too well if you two was thinkin’ on followin’ him.”

  Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “You son of a bitch! It ain’t your business! Hell, you could go with us and get a piece of her yourself.”

  “She belongs to Sage MacKenzie. Look at it this way, boys. I’m savin’ your lives. You go to followin’ Sage, and you’ll be wishin’ you was back here by the warm fire.”

  Johnny looked at Terrence, who just shrugged. “You’re the young one with the heat in your britches. We can make do.” He grinned.

  “Shut up, you old bastard,” Johnny grumbled. “I want a real woman.”

  “Well, you’d best be lookin’ someplace else,” Sax told him. “Now sit down before I pull the trigger on this thing and you end up as cold as the snow outside.”

  Johnny angrily threw off his coat and plunked into a chair. Terrence did the same, snickering.

  Outside the heavy snow soon obliterated the fort from the view of Sage and his Venado, and their path was soon enveloped in snow. Sage prayed they could reach the cabin before travel became impossible. His better sense told him he should have stayed at the fort until this storm blew over. But he was eager—eager to be alone with the woman he loved.

  Chapter Eight

  There were few men who would dare make their way into the mountains in such weather. The wind strengthened, and sleet and snow stung Sage’s face. Soon the precipitation turned to pure snow, sweeping across rocky cliffs in blinding sheets, the wind howling its fierceness.

  Sage worried about the woman. There were times he looked back and could barely see her, even though she was only a few feet away. She sat rigid and silent. He had no idea if she had anything to complain about. It would do no good to yell out to her, for she wouldn’t reply. He had to keep going. His only concern for now was that she was still on her horse.

  He urged the Appaloosa forward. He would rather have had his buckskin gelding back, but he had made the trade with Sax and had not had time to trade back and repack his gear at the fort. Maybe if and when Sax came to see him later on, he could talk the man into another trade. The Appaloosa was a good horse, but not as sturdy as his buckskin.

  He squinted into the snow. He knew these parts well, knew how to watch for dangerous holes or crevices hidden by the new snow, knew exactly where he was going. Somehow it had seemed important enough to get to the cabin and be alone with the woman to risk the storm. But there were moments now when he wondered if they were both going to die out here.

  His nose felt numb, and he knew it was going to get harder and harder to make his horse keep going. He checked again on Venado. She was still there. The wind made the fur of her wolf-skin coat stand up straight. Sage’s horse whinnied and balked. He spoke sternly to it, kicking it into obeying his command to keep going, glad that the gray gelding the woman rode seemed more cooperative.

  If he could make it to the cabin, he would have the best of both worlds. He would be in the mountains he loved, living his way; and he would have a woman in his bed at night, one who loved him and whom he loved in return.

  He wondered how long he could keep living this new way, how long he could keep the woman with him. Even if she didn’t get well and remember who she was, was she strong enough to live like an Indian? She had been very sick when he found her, but she had lived. And before that, she must have suffered greatly, perhaps at the hands of Comanche. She had survived whatever
horrors she had known, and it must have been horror for her, or she would not have lost her memory.

  He could see it now. The little cabin was still there, set against the side of a high, rocky cliff. The wind came from that direction, so there would be hardly any wind when they reached the cabin. But snow was bound to blow over that cliff and curl down into a white crest in front of the cabin, perhaps leaving an impassable barrier before long. He could only hope the horses could find enough to eat up there. He normally traveled with only one mount, and in winter stayed closer to places where there was better grass beneath the snow. He might have to turn these horses loose to let them fend for themselves and hope he could find them when he needed them, or hope Sax had sense enough to bring fresh horses when he came to visit, just in case these ran off.

  They neared the cabin then. He hoped it would not be full of rats. That happened sometimes up here—an abundance of rats and mice in a man’s tent or cabin. He carried a supply of poison that would get rid of them soon enough once he sprinkled it around the outside of the structure. But mice or no mice, the cabin was a welcome sight.

  It looked structurally sound. No one was sure how it had gotten there, but whoever built it had done a good job. The logs were solidly packed and perfectly cut and fitted at the corners. It had a heavy wooden door and the roof was made of logs and clay. A wide, stone chimney stood at one end, and inside it opened into a great stone fireplace nearly as wide as the cabin. There was only one room and a dirt floor, but the cabin would be a safe, warm retreat for the winter.

  They rode to the front of the cabin and Sage dismounted, going inside for a moment, then coming back out, taking some extra ammunition and a gunnysack from his parfleche. He walked over to the woman. “You stay right here, understand? The wind’s not so bad here. I’m going back inside. You’ll hear some gunshots, but don’t be afraid. I’ve just got to get rid of some wild varmints who’ve decided to make this place their home. Don’t be afraid. Just wait here for me. Understand?”