“Oh, no, Mary moved away with her husband months ago. Our last letter from the St. Claires said she had a baby—a boy, I believe, born earlier this year. She and her husband are doing quite well in St. Louis now.”
Randy nodded. “I see. I know the young lady had some bad times. She’s doing all right then? She’s happy?”
The woman studied him curiously, thinking the question awfully personal. “Yes. Quite happy, as far as we know. Who did you say you were?”
He flashed the handsome grin again. “No matter. Thank you, ma’am. I’ll try to get my friend to New Orleans. You’ve been a big help.”
He turned and left quickly, and the woman watched him go, shaking her head and closing the door. Randy mounted up, heading for the wooded hillside where he had left Sage. Poor Sage. He wished the man hadn’t even bothered to come here first, but Sage had insisted, worried that something had gone wrong and Mary would need him.
“Doing quite well in St. Louis,” Randy mocked sarcastically. “Even has a baby now.” He sighed and whipped his horse into a faster gallop. Mary was indeed back with her husband. She had had a baby. Poor Sage had been through hell with that wound. He hated telling the man his trip to Austin had been useless. At least maybe now Sage would forget about Mary and they could go to California and get on with life.
He headed up the hill, finally spotting Sage where he had left him. Sage was still on his horse. Randy knew it was only because mounting and dismounting were too painful for him, so he didn’t get off until absolutely necessary. He read the hope in Sage’s eyes when he came closer. Randy halted his mount, taking a thin cigar from his pocket and looking away from the man.
“She’s not there, Sage. Neither are the St. Claires. They moved back to New Orleans, and Mary and her husband are in St. Louis now.”
Sage felt the old pain in his heart and sighed deeply. “I didn’t really figure she’d be here. Just a dim hope is all. Could you get anything else out of the people down there? Is Mary happy?”
Randy hesitated. The man should know. Maybe it would make him realize he had to get the woman out of his mind once and for all. “She’s had a baby—a son.” He looked at Sage, reading the devastation in the man’s eyes. “Born earlier this year.”
Sage looked away from him, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. Why shouldn’t she have a baby? She was back with her husband, and her little baby daughter had been murdered by the Comanche. Then she had lost that baby up in the mountains. It would be important for her to have another child, especially by Rafe. But if it had been born early in the year…He thought a moment, trying to remember when it was he had brought her home. June, wasn’t it? June of last year. Well, then, it had not taken long for her to renew the marriage. Or more likely, Rafe.
Sage only hoped the man had not been too impatient, had not pushed her. It would be like her to want to make things right with Rafe. So, Mary had a son. He was glad, for her. But something about it didn’t seem quite right. He couldn’t quite determine what it was, but apparently she was happy, and they were obviously still together. She didn’t need Sage MacKenzie anymore, and he had no right now ever to reenter her life. She was living the life she was meant to live, with the man to whom she legally belonged.
“Let’s go,” he said wearily. “It’s a long way to California.”
Sage rode ahead, and Randy followed, saying nothing. He knew no words would help. He would leave Sage to his own thoughts for a while.
Chapter Twenty-seven
They rode west, through Indian country. It was the quickest way to California, but also the most dangerous. Randy seemed to enjoy inviting death, taking energy from a good chase, and they had more than one of those. Twice they were hounded by Comanche and one night their camp was attacked by Apache. Only their repeating rifles and keen awareness even in sleep saved Sage and Randy, who immediately packed their gear and rode out on the same night of the third attack, even though it was still dark. Sage knew the Indians would not expect them to leave until sunrise, and it was possible that by then the Apache would be back with even more men and there would be no escaping them.
“How in hell did I ever get hooked up with you?” Sage grumbled, squinting to see his way by moonlight. “You’ll get me killed yet.”
“I’m just wantin’ to keep you busy, Sage. Now tell me the truth—when you’re fightin’ Indians and runnin’ to save your hide, don’t it help you forget about that woman for a time?”
Sage laughed. “I reckon a man doesn’t have time to think of much of anything in times like that.”
“There, you see?”
“We’d better shut up and ride quiet.”
They rode on for several yards before Randy spoke up once more, this time his voice softer. “Sage?”
“What?”
“It was good to hear you laugh. I ain’t heard you laugh in a long time.”
Sage smiled sadly. “Yeah, I reckon it has been a while. Let’s get the hell out of this goddamned Indian country. It’s not easy for me to hurry and mount a horse, you know. My hip is screaming at me to get back off this animal.”
“Sorry.”
They rode into the darkness, and Sage thought about Randy’s statement. The boy was right. Sage hadn’t laughed in a long time. He supposed that out of sheer determination to survive, he would go on with life, and he would even laugh. But deep inside he would never know the kind of joy he had known with Mary. He wondered if it was that way for her also—smiling and going about life as if everything were normal, but empty and unhappy inside. He could only pray her marriage was working well for her and that she would find total happiness again.
St. Louis. He supposed they had gone there because of the strain of being around family and old friends. Sage doubted any of them really understood Mary’s traumatic ordeal. He wondered if any of them had been cruel to her with their remarks or insinuations. He could not get over his terrible need to be beside her, protecting her, making sure no one hurt her. But that was Rafe’s job now. Sage could only hope Rafe himself understood.
Apparently they were happy. They had a son now. That should help. Still, something about the baby continued to eat at him, gave him an uncomfortable feeling he could not quite name. How early in the year had it been born?
With a stinging sorrow he allowed himself to admit what bothered him. Yes, he could name it. He just didn’t like the idea of facing the agony of the truth. The boy could be his. An anxious feeling moved through his bones.
“Randy?”
“Yeah?” The young man moved his black gelding closer to Sage’s Appaloosa.
“I gotta say it out. It’s driving me crazy.”
“What is?”
“That baby Mary had.” He sighed deeply. “What if it’s mine?”
They rode quietly for several seconds before Randy replied. “I thought of that myself.”
“You did?” Sage halted his horse and looked at the boy in the moonlight.
“It was my first thought. I just was hopin’ you wouldn’t think of it.”
Sage gritted his teeth. “Damn! What if it is mine? I might have a son back there, Randy.”
“You might. But you also might be wrong. And even if you’re not, maybe she’s convinced her husband it’s his, so’s he’ll love it proper.”
“Maybe I should go find out.”
Randy let out a little hiss of disgust. “Jesus, Sage, you can’t do that and you know it. If you really love that woman, you gotta leave her alone to do what she thinks is right. You go back there, you’ll ruin it all for her. They’re apparently settled and happy in St. Louis. She’s the man’s wife. Now she’s had a baby, and from what you tell me happened to her, I reckon that baby is the most wonderful thing in the world to her. She’s probably got that man thinkin’ it’s his, or else they wouldn’t be livin’ so happy together. And what if it really is his? You go back there and start makin’ him think otherwise, you’ll cause that woman all kinds of heartache. You gotta let it go, Sage. Leav
e the poor woman alone.”
A coyote yipped somewhere in the distance, and Sage pulled his wolf-skin coat more tightly around his neck. Hot as the days were, this desert country was surprisingly cold at night.
“You’re right,” he admitted sadly. “Even if it’s mine, he’s bound to have a hell of a lot better life living where he is than being raised by me. What could I offer him? Rafe and Mary can give him everything—a fine home, a good education, good doctoring, everything. I’ve got nothing to give him.”
“Except love. After what I went through with my pa, I’d say that would have been more important to me than anything. But that boy will get all the love he needs. From the way you describe that woman, I expect she’ll be right good to him.”
Sage nodded. “She will. She surely will.”
“Then let’s get the hell to California. I feel arrows bein’ aimed right between my shoulder blades. Let’s get the hell out of this country.”
“I’m with you.”
They rode on, and Sage wondered what it would be like to hold his own son in his arms. He expected he’d never know, because he’d never love another woman enough to marry her and settle. It was either Mary or no one, and it couldn’t be Mary. He chided himself for being fool enough to keep thinking of her, to keep picturing them together. That would never be.
They rode into a nameless town in southern California, a territory which now belonged to the Americans. A rather peaceful but confusing annexation had occurred in California, more a battle between Americans and Californios than Americans and Mexicans. Californios were California’s Spanish citizens who had contemplated declaring California a country in its own right, free of both Mexican and American rule. The central Mexican government was much too far away to effectively rule or protect California, and the Californios felt no special attachment to their mother country. But they had not been organized enough to hold together against Americans determined to add California to their domain.
America’s victory over Mexico, and the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo earlier in 1848, only strengthened America’s hold on California, so that by the time Sage and Randy arrived there, there was no question about California belonging to America, and there was even talk already about making it another state.
Like most settlements Sage and Randy had come across in the West and Southwest, this town was mostly made up of taverns. A man had no trouble finding a place to wet his lips with good whiskey, and Sage and Randy had been riding for days through hot, desolate country with no sign of life anywhere. They headed for the closest tavern, and just as they approached it, two men came flying out of its doors, landing in the street and brawling savagely.
Sage and Randy backed their horses away as a crowd of men followed them out, cheering both men on. Sage leaned toward a man standing close to him.
“What’s the fight about?”
The man looked up at him. “Slavery!” the man shouted. “California is gonna become a state in another year or so, and we gotta decide if it’s gonna be a slave state or a free state.”
Sage looked over at Randy, who started laughing. “Jesus, it’s happenin’ here, too! Can you believe it? Hell, a man can’t get away from it, even clear out here.”
“Yeah, well, you keep your damned nose out of it. I’m not exactly in any position to help you this time. You remember that.”
Randy laughed again. “Hell, I’m not that stupid, Sage.” He looked at the fighters and shook his head. “Sure would feel good, though, gettin’ into a good brawl.”
“I thought after Mexico you decided to give up fighting. You said you had your fill.”
Randy clenched his fists, punching at the air as he watched the men fighting. “Yeah, well, that was back in Mexico. It’s been a while.”
Sage just grinned. He knew the boy well enough by now to know when he was putting on a false devil-may-care attitude. That was Randy. There was no changing him. Sage turned to the man he had spoken to earlier. “How’s the whiskey inside? Good stuff?”
The man looked up at him. “Sure, mister. The women ain’t bad either!”
“Women?” Randy’s attention was drawn from the fight. He moved his horse to a hitching post and dismounted. “I think we found the right place, Sage.”
Sage shook his head and dismounted, tying his horse and going up the steps one at a time, using his good leg to mount the step and then drawing his stiffer right leg up behind it. He limped inside the tavern behind Randy then. Smoke and piano music filled the air.
Sage figured most of the men had gone outside to view the fight, but there were still a lot of men left inside. The place was bigger than it looked from the outside, and already Randy had grabbed a young, dark-haired woman who had walked by him with a tray in her hands. She wore a blue satin dress, cut so low that it wouldn’t take much of a tug to expose the nipples of her breasts. She smiled at the handsome young Randy Lucas, who wasted no time letting her know he had fought at Chapultepec and Mexico City.
Sage just shook his head and limped up to the bar, hoping Randy had sense enough not to get into any fights. Maybe he would just go upstairs soon with the woman in the satin dress and spend the night there. That would keep him out of trouble. There was no mistaking that the woman, as well as others who paraded around the tables serving drinks, was there for more than waiting on tables. Most of them were young and relatively pretty, though some were not so easy to look at. But in this country men often went for weeks, even months, without enjoying something soft in their bedrolls. By then anything looked good, except to Sage MacKenzie. He had been with the most beautiful woman who ever walked. Nobody looked good compared to Mary. But he had to admit that more immediate manly needs and a longing for Mary gave him thoughts he had not allowed himself to consider for a long time.
He ordered a whiskey, glancing over to see Randy sitting down at a table with the woman in the blue dress. He was ordering her a drink, and she was leaning toward him, deliberately exposing her huge breasts. Randy’s eyes were glued to them, and Sage chuckled to himself. He turned and paid for his whiskey and was picking up the glass and starting to drink when a woman’s voice came at him from his right.
“Hello, mister. I’ve never seen you before.”
He turned to see a rather plain but pretty young woman standing beside him. Her hair was blond and her eyes were green. She was tiny, and her breasts didn’t billow over her low-cut dress the way the blue-clad woman’s did; but what did show was enticing nonetheless, peeking through black lace that bordered her pink satin dress. The dress was cut so low that Sage guessed only the lace hid her nipples. All a man had to do was pull the lace forward and take a peek.
“That’s because I’ve never been here before,” he answered.
“Where you from?”
Sage drank down some of the whiskey. “Everywhere—mostly around the Rockies, Wyoming.”
“Trapper? Scout?”
“I’ve done just about everything.”
She got up on a stool, leaning closer. “Why the limp? Indians?”
He finished his whiskey and turned to face her, resting one elbow on the bar. “Chapultepec, Mexico.”
Her eyes widened. “You fought in the Mexican War?”
“I did. I’m not even quite sure why. My friend over there had an itch to go down there and see what it was all about, so we went. I’ve lived to regret it. Some Mexican soldier decided to sink his bayonet into my hip.”
She winced, looking genuinely concerned. “How terrible. I’m sorry.”
His eyes drifted to her breasts. The way she was leaning, he could see one nipple. Old, long-neglected needs were stirred, but also stirred was the old pain of wanting Mary. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Henrietta. People just call me Henny. You?”
“Sage. Sage MacKenzie.” He glanced over to see Randy headed up the stairs behind the woman in blue. He held a drink in each hand and looked over at Sage with a big grin on his face.
“See
you in the mornin’, friend. See about the horses, will ya?”
Henny laughed lightly. “He’s cute.”
Sage grinned. “He’s also prone to getting me in trouble. I hope he does stay up there all night.”
She looked at the bartender and signaled him to refill Sage’s glass. “We have a livery right out back.” She looked him up and down. “It seems lots of men who come here have need to put their horses up for the night, if you know what I mean.”
He smiled sadly, thinking how different this would be from Mary. He would get rid of pent-up needs with this very willing woman, but it would be nothing like what he had shared with Mary—no real beauty, no love. He would leave the next day and she would go on to other men, and he would still ache for Mary MacKenzie. That was the only way he could think of her: Mary MacKenzie.
“I know what you mean,” he answered. He ran a hand over his chest. “I’m afraid I’m in need of a bath, though. I’m not one to be making a woman put up with trail dust.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Not all men are that nice about it. That’s very kind of you.” She put a hand on his waist, running it down over his hip and thigh. “Why don’t you come upstairs and I’ll give you that bath myself. I can do wonders with soaped-up hands.”
He grinned. “I’ll bet you can. How much will it cost me?”
“You got two dollars?”
His eyes fell to her breasts again. He reached out and lightly caressed them with the back of one hand, his fingers touching the nipples under the black lace border. She sucked in her breath and he leaned forward, kissing her neck. How he used to love that spot on Mary. Her neck was soft and sweet. “I’ve got two dollars,” he answered. He moved his hand around to the back of her neck, meeting her eyes then. “But I gotta warn you, it’s been a long time. I haven’t done anything since I got wounded. I’m not even sure I can move right.”
She only smiled. “We can always work around that. There are other ways.”
He ran a thumb over her cheek. “Yeah, I reckon there are.” He swallowed, his eyes tearing. “I gotta tell you something else. There’s a woman I need and can’t have, and I can’t get her out of my blood. When I get inside you, it’s gonna be somebody else I’m thinking of.”
Sweet Mountain Magic Page 41