Sweet Mountain Magic

by Rosanne Bittner

  “What is it, Mary?”

  “Sage.” The name was whispered. “I want you to make love to me,” she finished, suddenly hugging him around the neck. “I don’t want you to think badly of me.” She began to cry. “It’s so strange…to go through such horrible things…and then find a man I want to be with. I don’t like feeling separated from you.”

  He grinned, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her out of the rocker. “Why would I think badly of you for that? Damn, woman, I’ve been wanting to make love to you for the longest time. It’s two different things—being used by a man and being loved by one, you know. It’s all different, and there’s sure nothing bad about it.”

  “But we’re not married, not really. There was a time when…when I thought that making love to a man who wasn’t your husband would be the wickedest thing in the whole world. Now somehow it doesn’t matter anymore.” She clung tightly to him. “Not after what I’ve been through…and us being stranded up here together—”

  He was kissing her hair, her neck, then cut off her words with a kiss, a kiss she returned with heated passion. He was immediately on fire for her, consumed with rage for what others had done to her and with jealousy over her husband, who had had the privilege of being the first to make love to this exquisite woman. Perhaps Rafe Cousteau had been first, but she belonged to Sage MacKenzie now, and that was never going to change if he could help it.

  He carried her to the bedrolls and laid her down, moving on top of her and continuing the kiss, searching with his tongue, drawing out buried passions. Finally he left her mouth, trembling with his need for her, nuzzling her throat and unbuttoning the front of her dress then, his lips kissing her chest and breasts as he opened the dress. He kissed the taut nipples before moving back to her throat, then her lips again, kissing her more lightly now.

  “I told you before, Mary, we are married—in our hearts, and under God’s eyes. And never in the world was there anything bad about a woman’s giving herself to her man—the man she loves above all things. And there’s nothing wrong with taking pleasure in return. God knows, after what we’ve been through together, we’ve got a right to do this and never feel wrong about it. You understand, Mary? Don’t ever feel wrong about giving yourself to me.”

  He kissed her before she could reply, needing her more than ever, now that he knew her past and knew there was a possibility they could not stay together. Somehow her clothes were coming off, and Mary was determined not to let bad memories get in the way. They had been through so much together, and they loved each other.

  Somehow her love for this man was so different, for it had been borne of struggle and heartache and loss. That seemed to make it so much stronger and more binding than the love she had shared with Rafe. Her marriage to Rafe had been like those in a storybook. Yes, he had been good to her. But he had not been the man Sage MacKenzie was. He never would have survived some of the things Sage had survived. He had not been as skilled. And she knew somewhere deep in her heart that it was best Rafe was dead, for instinct told her he could not have loved her the same way after learning she had been with the Comanche. Sage was the kind of man who understood those things, understood this land and its cruelties, loved a woman in the rawest, deepest sense. Her love with Rafe had never been tested in the ways her love with Sage had been.

  Now they were both naked, and Sage MacKenzie was caressing all of her, loving her with rough but gentle hands. He had a way of making her know he accepted all of her—inside and out—no matter what she had been through. Respect, that was it. He had the most wonderful respect for her. It made her feel warm and good and wanted.

  He moved between her legs, and she gasped when first he entered her. Flashes of other moments, ugly moments, shot through her mind with cruel clarity. Sage felt her stiffen and moved rhythmically but gently.

  “This is me, Mary. Sage. It’s all right.”

  She boldly met his eyes, arching up to him, suddenly on fire for him when his dark, gentle eyes held her own. He was mastering her, but not in the cruel way the others had. He was simply a big man who loved his woman and loved giving her pleasure as he took his own in return. There were no demands made, no questions asked. Nothing changed his desire for her. And that was Sage MacKenzie.

  “I love you so much, Sage,” she whispered.

  He came down on her, grasping her under the hips and pushing her up, nuzzling her neck at the same time. “And I love you, Mary. God, I love you.”

  He pushed deep, unable to stop his life from pulsing into her. He relaxed then, staying on top of her. “Thank you, Mary,” he said softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time. I just wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

  She kept her arms around his neck and kissed his ear. “And I wasn’t sure how you would feel about me.”

  They both grinned, and he began moving gently inside her. “If I stay right here, I think we can do that again.”

  “Then stay right where you are,” she answered, reddening, but holding his eyes daringly.

  He grinned, looking down at the full breasts, remembering the first time he had done this, little knowing what he had been getting himself into. He had been all set to simply take advantage of a helpless, lonely, beautiful woman. He had not considered that he might fall in love with her. But now he had, and that was that.

  Sage MacKenzie had walked right into a whole new world when he had found this Marietta St. Claire Cousteau abandoned by a burned-out wagon in the mountains of Wyoming. Now he had a new challenge ahead, an unknown challenge that lay waiting in Texas. But that was months away. Right now they were alone together in this little cabin that had come to mean so much to them. And while he had her with him, he would take advantage of every beautiful moment.

  He relished the feel of her breasts against his bare chest, the thrill of her slender fingers moving over his arms and shoulders then, enjoying the hard muscle there. He felt his desire returning, and she gasped as he responded to that desire. It was happening all over again.

  “Yo! Sage MacKenzie!” Sax Daniels shouted the words from the ridge below, then urged his horse forward, leading the Appaloosa Sage had turned loose weeks earlier and the roan mare that had belonged to Johnny White. He rode Sage’s buckskin horse, which he had taken a liking to and had decided to keep.

  Sax Daniels couldn’t help wondering if Sage and the woman were still alive. It had been a dangerous trip up, what with the melting snow causing slides and swelling the streams. But if they were still alive, they would need supplies by now, and the horses, too. He had found them wandering and grazing in the valley below.

  He guided his horse carefully over slippery rocks, then looked up when someone shouted back, “Sax Daniels! You still around?”

  Sax grinned. “You ole mountain goat! You still alive up here?”

  “Alive and kicking—a little hungry, though. Got low on meat.”

  “I got me two fresh-killed rabbits along. That woman still with you so’s she can cook them up?”

  “Yes, sir. You got some flour? We’re out of that, too.”

  “Brung a lot of things, just in case.”

  Sax hurried his horse then, reveling in the feel of the warm sun on his back. Out here, Sax reflected, spring was more welcome than a naked woman. Well, almost. He reached the cabin and Sage moved down from the little porch to greet the man as he dismounted. They both hugged, and Mary watched from the doorway.

  Spring had brought a new pain—the pain of realizing she was taking Sage MacKenzie from the only life he had ever known, from his beloved mountains and the men here who were his only friends. He had already remarked that Red Dog would probably never make it back in time to see him before they left for Texas. He pretended it didn’t bother him, but she knew it did.

  She stepped outside, feeling that certain thrill that always comes with warmer weather, breathing deeply of the clear, spring air. How strange that she didn’t really want to go home now, that she was only going out of courtesy to he
r parents, who had a right to know she was alive and to see her again. But that world seemed so foreign to her now. She wasn’t sure she could ever live in it again.

  This had become her world—the mountains, the little cabin, Sage. He was so happy here. Could he really be happy anywhere else, living in the confines of the civilized world?

  “You feel like cooking up some rabbit?” Sage asked her then, bringing the fresh-killed meat to where she stood.

  “They look wonderful,” she replied, taking the skinned creatures from his hands. “I’ll take them inside and start them right away.”

  She turned and went inside, and Sax stepped closer to Sage again. “How are things, Sage? The woman ever get her memory back?”

  Sage looked at him sadly. “I’m afraid she did. It was real bad at first, but she’s pretty much over it now, except for bad dreams sometimes.” He sighed deeply, walking away from the cabin. “She comes from good family, Sax. Down in Texas. Her pa is a rich banker.”

  “Jeees! A rich banker! Lordy, Sage, you picked yourself a winner.”

  Sage shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t think they’d accept me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m taking her back, Sax. They have to know she’s still alive. She was taken by Comanche. They killed her husband and little baby.”

  “She had a husband? And a baby! I’ll be damned!”

  Sage nodded. “I don’t need to tell you what she went through. Then they sold her to a whiskey trader and later I found her. At any rate, she’s got to go back. If things don’t work out there, we’ll probably leave together. At least that’s what I tell myself. But I don’t know what will happen once she’s back there and can stay in that fine house and all.” He shook his head. “She says she wants to stay with me, even if it means living right here in this cabin. But she can’t live that way forever. It’s just not right. I’ve got to figure out how I can support her, and I’m determined to do it somehow. But first we’ve got to go back.”

  “You still love her then.”

  Sage grinned and kicked at some snow. “Yeah. I love her. That’s the only thing I know for sure right now.”

  “When you leavin’, Sage?”

  Sage shrugged. “A week or so, I expect. You made it up here. I reckon we can make it out.” He nodded toward the horses. “I see you found the Appaloosa and that roan.”

  “Yup. Found them grazin’ down below. Figured you’d need two horses, if the woman was still alive.”

  Sage faced him, and Sax could see the sorrow in his eyes. “She lost a baby a few weeks ago, Sax.” He shook his head again. “I was sure she was gonna die on me, but she made it.”

  “A baby! Yours?”

  Sage met his eyes squarely. “Yes. Mine and nobody else’s.”

  Sax paled a little at the near threat in Sage’s eyes. “Sure, Sage. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  Sage sighed deeply and grasped his shoulder. “I know. Thanks for coming, Sax. How are things down below?”

  “Ain’t had any news in a while. We’re still waitin’ to find out if there’s gonna be war with Mexico. But you know how it is this time of year—everything is slow. Pretty soon some travelers will trickle through again. Then we’ll know. I reckon if there is war, you’ll be walkin’ right into it, goin’ to Texas and all.”

  Sage frowned. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” He shook his head. “My life sure is taking some changes. I never dreamed I’d be doing all this for one woman. She’s sure got a hold on me, Sax.”

  “Anybody can see that.”

  Their eyes held. “Do you think I’m crazy?” Sage asked the man.

  Sax shrugged. “Who’s to say? I ain’t never been in love—not that I know of. But I’ve known other men who did strange things for a woman.” He smiled, but there was sorrow in his eyes as he gripped Sage’s arm. “I’ll miss you, Sage. I ain’t dumb enough not to realize I might never see you again, so I’ll say it now. You’re a hell of a good man, and it’s been good knowin’ you and callin’ you friend. I wish things could stay the same, but nothin’ ever does, and our kind of livin’ is pretty much over, ain’t it?”

  Sage nodded. “I reckon it is, Sax.”

  “Well, we got lots of good memories, don’t we? Lots of things to tell our grandchildren about. And I reckon if you stay with the woman, you’ll be havin’ those.”

  Sage smiled, but tears welled unwantedly in his eyes. “I reckon I will.” He sniffed and swallowed. “Listen, Sax…uh…if you see Red Dog—” He stopped and cleared his throat, turning away.

  “I know what to tell him, Sage. You don’t have to say it.”

  Sage nodded, his back turned. “I appreciate it, Sax. And I…uh…appreciate the friend you’ve been—helping me out like this and all. You didn’t have to come up here.”

  “Hell, I didn’t come up here for you. I come up ’cause I was goin’ crazy sittin’ out the winter down below. I had to get the rust out of my joints, know what I mean?”

  Sage smiled to himself. “Sure, I know.” He took a deep breath and put on a casual air. “Come on inside, Sax. I made Mary a rocker. You gotta see it. I never made furniture before. I’m kind of proud of it.”

  Sax laughed and followed him inside, masking the sorrow he felt at the thought of Sage MacKenzie’s leaving these mountains. But it was more than that. A way of life was ending for all men like Sage and himself. It made him very sad and left a feeling of loneliness. But he was glad Sage had found the woman. She would help him begin a new way of life.

  Birds sang, and the streams were so swollen that their rumble could be heard from nearly any standpoint. Sage listened to the rushing waters. How long would it be before he heard that sound again? He tried not to think about it. He was doing the right thing, and that was that.

  Everything was packed onto the horses, and he had even managed to tie the rocker onto the travois. Mary had refused to leave it behind. Now she stood at the doorway of the cabin, empty now except for the crude table and log chairs, and another handmade chair Sage had fashioned.

  The straw remained strewn on the floor, and leftover wood had been stacked on the porch and inside. Someone else would come along and use the cabin someday, but Mary could hardly bear the thought of anyone else’s occupying this place where her whole life had changed.

  “Sage,” she said in a near whimper from the doorway, “I don’t want to go.”

  He looked up from tightening the cinch on his horse, pain piercing his heart. Just the day before he had made a sturdy cross to put over the lost baby’s grave, carving “Baby MacKenzie—1846” into the wood. They had said a prayer over the grave. Now it was all happening too fast. He hurried to her, pulling her into his arms, and she wept. He felt like crying himself.

  “We gotta do it, Mary. Even if I weren’t taking you back home, we’d have to leave here and live someplace more civilized. It’s best for you, especially if you get pregnant again. Either way we’ve got to leave here.”

  “But it’s ours,” she sobbed. “It’s our special place. I love it. It’s part of you…part of these mountains.”

  “I know. But we’ve got the memory, Mary. Nothing can take that from us. Wherever we go, we’ll just take this little cabin right along with us. We’ll remember every corner, and we’ll remember the hills around it where we got all the wood, and we’ll remember that ole bear every time we look at the skin. We’ll keep that bearskin and tack it up on a wall someday, in a nice little house—someplace better for you to live in, with wood floors and curtains and a real bed. That will be the nicest part, won’t it? A real bed?”

  “Oh, Sage, don’t joke.”

  “I have to, Mary. This is as hard on me as it is on you.” He pulled back. “Hey, we’ve got each other, and you’re strong now—not just physically, but your mind. You’re gonna be all right, Mary.”

  She held his eyes. “Thanks to you. You’ve been so good to me, Sage. I just pray we can always be together.”

  He kissed her hai
r. “We’ve got a hell of a journey ahead of us, and a dangerous one. Pray first that we get there all in one piece. We’ll worry about what we’ll do then once we get there.”

  He met her lips then, squeezing her tight. They had made love the night before, their last night in the little cabin. It had been the sweetest, most passionate lovemaking they had yet experienced. So much was at stake. There could be so little time left.

  “Come on,” he told her, taking her hand. “Mount up now. I want to get an early start.”

  He helped her up onto the roan mare, then mounted the Appaloosa. Both horses had survived the winter well and were strong and eager. Sage had ridden both of them considerably the last few days, working out the slightly wild nature they had taken on over a long winter of not being ridden.

  Sage hoped they would make the entire trip, which was going to be a long and difficult journey. He had never been past Colorado Territory himself, but he figured he could find his way. The most dangerous part of the journey would be when they headed into Comanche country. He made a personal vow that he would kill Mary before he would let her be taken again by Indians.

  Mary couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She took one last look at the cabin. It stood alone now. She had a way of thinking of inanimate objects as almost human. Surely the little cabin would miss them. It would be cold now, its fireplace unlit. And down at the creek the little grave would sit unnoticed. Someday the cross would probably fall away and no one would ever know the remains of a baby had been buried there.

  She decided she would even miss the pile of wood still lying just outside the door. Sage had cut all that wood, had gone through so much work just to keep her warm. He had even risked his life getting that wood.

  The sun was bright, and birds were singing. She should be happy. But she was sure it was one of the saddest days of her life. Sage got his horse moving, leading hers behind him by the reins. Mary’s horse pulled the travois. It scraped along behind her then as Sage began the descent along the ridge that led away from the cabin.