Sweet Mountain Magic

by Rosanne Bittner

  A lump rose in her throat and a tear trickled down the side of her face. Poor Sage! He would be the lonely, orphaned boy again. How she loved him, and how she hated the thought of hurting him! Why had God brought this terrible thing on her? Why, after all the horror she had been through, was she now being faced with this impossible decision? No matter which way she decided, she would be overwhelmed with guilt, and someone would be hurt.

  There had been a time when she had believed it would be impossible for a woman to love two men with equal passion and devotion. Now it had happened to her. Each man had wonderful qualities; each was so utterly different from the other, yet so lovable. But did Rafe truly love her the way he once had? Their reunion had been strained, yet it felt so right when he drew her into his arms. They both had wept, visited Elizabeth’s grave together, mourned together. The baby was something special they shared that she could never share with Sage. Yet there had been another baby, in the mountains. Had it really been Sage’s? She wanted to think that it had.

  Rafe wanted her to stay, wanted to start over somewhere new, wanted to have another child. Rafe was her husband, and she did not doubt that he was sincere in his desire to pick up the pieces and start again. She loved Sage, but she had made vows before God to devote her life to Rafe Cousteau. She legally belonged to Rafe, and she still loved him.

  She sat up, sighing deeply. This was going to be the worst day of her life. She would say good-bye to Sage. Where would he go? Who would take care of him now? Love him? A painful jealousy moved through her at the thought of his going to whores to satisfy manly needs. Yet she knew they would not satisfy him at all. It would not be the same as what they had shared together. He was so big and rugged and strong, yet picturing him alone now brought to mind a vision of a lost little boy with no one to love him.

  “Oh, Sage,” she whimpered. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

  She stood up, walking to a window, wiping at tears with a shaking hand. She wondered if Rafe was up yet. She had asked to sleep alone, and he had understood. Being back together would take some getting used to. There was much to talk about. Being back together would be like putting ointment on an open wound. The wound would need time to heal.

  Rafe had slept in a guest room. But already she sensed he was anxious to truly make her his wife again, to take back what belonged to Rafe Cousteau. Still, she had caught the questions in his eyes, had felt an underlying anger over Sage, even though he had said he understood. And she sensed in him a hint of disappointment and damaged manly pride over the fact that his wife had been touched by so many men.

  Could it really be the same again? There was that one difference in the two men. With Sage she was truly confident that he gave no thought to her rapes, that he would not for one moment think less of her or think of her as anything but perfect. But Sage came from a different background, a more accepting way of life; he was a man who understood life’s harsh realities, the struggle for survival. He had seen firsthand some of life’s worst cruelties.

  Rafe had grown up sheltered from those things. He loved her, and he would try very hard to understand and accept all of it. Of that she was sure. But it pained her to think there might always be that unspoken doubt, that hidden anger, an inability to truly understand what she had been through, why she had turned to Sage MacKenzie, why her mind had deserted her for all those lost months. How could anyone really understand something he had never experienced for himself?

  No. It could never be the same. But they had to try. Rafe was not a cruel man. He would never hurt her intentionally. He was kind-hearted, and he wanted in all sincerity to try to start over. He did still love her. She did not doubt it. But could that love carry them through the struggle that lay ahead for them both? There was only one way to find out. They had made promises before God. Both of them believed it was right to keep those promises.

  Someone knocked on the bedroom door then. She walked over and opened it, and Rafe stood there, already dressed.

  “Rafe!” She brought a hand to her disheveled hair. “I just woke up.”

  His eyes moved over her, and again she saw love mixed with doubt and questions. “You look beautiful,” he answered. “I just wanted to tell you I’m ready to take you to town any time you’re ready. MacKenzie will be expecting us.”

  She nodded and stepped back and he came inside, glancing at the bed. How he wanted to carry her there, lay her down and take her, over and over. How he wanted somehow to obliterate all the rapes, obliterate Sage MacKenzie! He loved this woman, yet sometimes he felt hatred for her. It was almost cruel of her to have come back, only to tell him she loved another man. The rest was something she had not been able to help, something he would have to learn to accept. But Sage MacKenzie…

  “I suppose you’ll want to talk to him alone,” he said aloud.

  She met his eyes, her own watery. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Of course I would. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to stand there and watch you. You’ve…you’ve shared many things together. The man has done a lot for you and you loved him. He brought you home to me. He didn’t have to do that. The least I can do is give you an hour or so alone, as long as—” He sighed deeply, taking hold of one of her arms. “As long as it’s out in the open—a restaurant, a parlor or something.”

  She looked down. “My God, Rafe, do you really think now that I’m back and you’re alive I would go to bed with the man?” She met his eyes again, a tear slipping down her cheek. “If you think that, then there is no use in our starting over.”

  Her voice choked and he let go of her arm, turning away. “I’m sorry. You can’t blame me for feeling a little…a little angry and jealous, Mary.” He threw back his head and took a deep breath. “You go ahead and go to his room or whatever you need to do.”

  She stepped close to him, touching his arm. “Rafe, we have to give this time. We loved each other so much, and we both mourn Elizabeth. You’re my husband, and I want very much to be your wife again, in every way. I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you, but if I had only remembered—and once I did, if I had known you were still alive—I would not have been untrue to you. You know that. I still love you, Rafe, and I need you to understand. If you can’t understand, I don’t think I can bear to go on living.”

  Her chest jerked in a deep sob, and he turned and embraced her, holding her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair, remembering another time, a happier time.

  “You’re mine, Mary, mine! I was your first man,” he whispered. “Nothing can change that.”

  “Of course nothing can change it,” she sobbed. “And it was beautiful and good and right. It will be again, Rafe. But you must let me mourn for Sage. He’ll be so alone. I hate hurting him, but it has nothing to do with my love for you. Please, please understand, Rafe. Don’t hate him. And don’t hate me.”

  He kissed her hair. “I don’t hate you, Mary. I just…I need time, too, just like you. I’m so full of anger and bitterness over what happened to you. And then to learn you actually loved another man…”

  His lips moved to her cheek, then found her mouth. He kissed her, possessively, hungrily, angrily, reawakening old, familiar desires for her first love. But she knew in that kiss that it would never be quite the same again. There would always be Sage, lurking in a little hidden corner of her heart, along with a memory—the memory of a little cabin sitting high in the Rockies, wood piled on the porch, straw for a floor, bread baking and rabbit frying, and a bearded man in buckskins coming through the door with a rifle resting on his shoulder. She could hear the wind moaning through canyons, feel the cold and the snow, hear the wolves howling.

  Rafe left her mouth and held her close. She realized with horror it was not the same at all, but she could not tell him. She would do what was proper. She would keep the vows she had made before God and man. She was Mrs. Rafe Cousteau, and Rafe was a good man.

  A buggy pulled up in front of the rooming house. Only Rafe was in it. Sage rose, wonderin
g for a moment if he was even going to have the privilege of saying goodbye to Mary. Rafe stepped out of the carriage and tied the fine black horse that pulled it. He nodded to Sage as he climbed the steps of the porch.

  “Good morning, Mr. MacKenzie.”

  Sage nodded in return, watching the man carefully. Rafe moved closer. “I left Mary at the old mission at the other end of town. There is a graveyard behind it, some trees and benches. It will be a pleasant place for you to talk. We both decided it would be a good place. No one will bother you there this time of day.”

  The pain in Sage’s chest made it hard to breathe. “And you?”

  “I will wait here in town. I have errands to do anyway. Take as long as you need. It’s all right.”

  Sage could see the man was sincere, but the words were said with a possessive tone. Sage caught the real meaning: “Remember that she is my wife.”

  “You aren’t going to hold anything against her? You’ll be good to her?”

  Rafe’s eyes showed some indignation. “She is my wife. I love her, MacKenzie. We’re going to make this work. We’re going away from here and start over. I don’t know where yet, but somewhere away from her parents and my own family. I daresay they will have a harder time accepting all this than I will. I hope you understand that it would be best if others we know don’t know about you. Mary is going to have a hard enough time holding her own against the cruel bastards who will make something of her abduction by the Comanche. There’s no sense in our having to explain you. I’ve told no one yet that she is even back, and no one saw me take her to the mission. You can talk there, and then it would be best if you just quickly left.”

  Sage wanted to hit him but knew he really had no reason. “Sure. Like I never existed, right?”

  Rafe sighed, taking off his hat and fingering it as he spoke. “For others, yes. But not for Mary, I assure you. I think you know that.”

  Sage nodded. “How is everything at the house—her mother?”

  “She’s getting used to it all, realizing she should be grateful her daughter is alive and well and that she shouldn’t be concerned with anything more than that.”

  “Mary? How is she this morning?”

  Their eyes held, and Rafe read the questions in Sage’s. “She’s stronger than I ever dreamed she could be. She’ll be all right. I’ll see to it,” Rafe answered. “And no, I didn’t sleep with her last night. You ought to know her well enough to know that would be hard for her to do right away.” It was not without some jealousy that he read the relief in Sage’s eyes.

  “I never asked,” Sage answered.

  “Yes, you did. I saw the question in your eyes. It might ease your concern, MacKenzie, to understand that I am not the kind of man who jumps all over a woman just because she legally belongs to me. I love Mary. She needs time. Needless to say, after finding out she is still alive and seeing my beautiful wife again, I have the natural husbandly desire to make her my own again. But I am not an animal, and obviously, after what she has been through, it would do her mental state no good for a man to force himself upon her.”

  Sage could not help feeling relieved and grateful for the kind of person Rafe Cousteau seemed to be, yet it was difficult to control his raging jealousy, a jealousy he knew he had no right to feel. He almost wished the man were cruel, that he didn’t understand at all, didn’t want Mary back. But there was nothing here he could fight, no reason for him to stay now. This was Mary’s husband, and he was kind, trying to understand, patient.

  “I’ll get my things from my room,” he told Rafe then. “I’ll pack everything on my horse at the livery and be ready to leave when I ride to the mission. What time is it? I’m not a man to carry a watch.”

  Rafe pulled a gold pocket watch from his vest. “It’s eleven o’clock.”

  “Give us an hour. I’ll be gone by noon. No sense stretching it out.”

  Genuine sympathy crept into Rafe’s eyes as he put back the watch. “Where will you go, MacKenzie?”

  Sage smiled sadly. “I don’t have the slightest idea. Back to the mountains, I reckon.”

  Rafe put out his hand. “I will thank you again, Mr. MacKenzie—sincerely. I wish you would let me pay you something.”

  Sage took his hand, squeezing firmly. “I had Mary for a while. No money can match that, Mr. Cousteau.” He released Rafe’s hand. “I don’t mean that in a physical sense. A man should feel privileged calling her his own. She’s the most beautiful woman I know, and not just in looks. She’s good and she’s strong and she’s been through hell. You always remember that. You’re a damned lucky man.” His eyes teared and he turned away, disappearing inside.

  Rafe watched him go. He wondered at how a person could love and hate another with equal passion.

  Mary’s heart quickened and she rose from the bench as the familiar Appaloosa approached, a big man in buckskins riding it, leading the roan mare. He had untied the travois at Mary’s house the day before, taking only what he needed, leaving the handmade rocker. Mary realized then that the rocker still sat outside on the travois, and she determined that she would demand that Rafe let her keep it.

  Still, to keep it would mean remembering…remembering those sweet moments…the cabin…that long, wonderful, peaceful winter during which their love had grown.

  “Sage,” she groaned as she came closer and dismounted.

  His mind and body screamed with agony. How beautiful she looked this morning, standing there in a pale blue velvet skirt and jacket, a fancy velvet hat to match, her cascade of dark hair drawn up just so. Yes, here was the real Mary—the educated, wealthy, pampered, perfect lady called Marietta St. Claire Cousteau. This was not Mary MacKenzie, and she probably never could have been Mary MacKenzie forever.

  Tears spilled out of her eyes then. “Sage, I have no choice. My husband is alive, and he’s a good man.”

  He nodded. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s all right.”

  “No, it isn’t. What about you? What about my Sage? I love you just as much as yesterday.”

  “I knew how it would be, Mary. I don’t want you carrying some kind of guilt. You’ve got no reason, Mary.”

  “But you’ll be all alone! At least I’ll have Rafe.”

  She saw him flinch. “Don’t say it,” he almost groaned.

  She stood looking like a helpless little girl. “Please hold me, Sage. Please, please hold me.”

  His eyes filled with pain and he stepped closer, pulling her into his arms. She wept against his chest and he pressed her close. Oh, how he wished he could make love to her, just once more. Just once more. Mary! Yes, it was the old Mary after all. She just wore different clothes. Too many things had happened to her to ever allow her to go back and be the Mary she had been a year ago.

  “Is it really all right, Mary? Will he be good to you?”

  “Yes,” she wept. “I trust him. He still loves me, Sage. It has to be this way.”

  “I know, honey, I know. Don’t you worry about ole Sage MacKenzie. I reckon I was meant to be alone. I had no right taking you in the first place. No right. But there you were, so beautiful and so lost. And weak fool that I am, I picked the forbidden fruit, just like in the Bible—and now I’m paying for it. It serves me right.”

  “It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to you…and I don’t know what to do about it. I love you, Sage. I’ll always…love you…just like we promised…forever.”

  “And I’ll love you forever, Mary MacKenzie.” He rubbed her back and patted her shoulder. “That’s how I’ll always think of you—Mary MacKenzie. But you belong here. You’re a woman born to fine things, and the life Rafe can give you is the life you should have. I’m just somebody who helped you through a bad time, but I’ve got no rights to you, Mary. Rafe’s the one you belong with. I knew it the minute I set eyes on him.”

  “But…that’s not the reason,” she sobbed. “I don’t care anymore…about how I live…having nice things.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “If it were morally right,
I would go anywhere with you, Sage, anywhere! And I’d live just like we lived in the cabin. I swear to God it wouldn’t matter. I love you so. But he’s my husband, and he’s…he’s Rafe…the man I loved before all this happened. I still love him. Oh, Sage, it hurts so much, having to…to choose like this. It doesn’t even seem human. And it’s so unfair to you.”

  He leaned down and kissed away her tears. “Calm down, Mary. I understand, honey. It’s all right.” He brushed her cheek then with his big fingers. “Mary, my Mary. Life’s been damned cruel to you. You’re the one who’s not being treated fairly, not me or Rafe.” He ran a thumb over the beautiful lips that he loved. “I’ll be leaving by noon.”

  She let out a disappointed whimper and he pulled her tightly against himself again.

  “It’s best I do it quick and get out of your life. There’s no point in hanging around, and no point in letting others know I even existed. It will be hard enough for you having to face them after being taken by the Comanche. So we’ll just quietly end it here, Mary. I’ll be on my way, and I promise to stay out of your life.”

  She broke into renewed crying, and for several minutes they just stood there, hanging on to each other.

  “I don’t know where I’ll go,” he continued, his voice strained. “But you know me. I can take care of myself—been doing it since I was thirteen. And I’ll take a beautiful memory with me, Mary, nor something I’ll treasure the rest of my life. I’ll never forget my Mary, ever stop loving you, and these last few months are the best thing that has ever happened to me or ever will. You’re a beautiful person, strong and honorable and brave. You always remember that. And if you want to do honor to my memory, don’t you ever hang your head, Mary, no matter what. Don’t you ever let Rafe or your family or friends or outsiders who don’t understand make you feel ashamed or less honorable. You promise me, Mary.”