Authors: Paradise Valley
Maggie felt Sage’s anger. He was stiff with it. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. “I was afraid that if I called out your name, or if that man noticed you first, he’d shoot you before you realized he was there. All I could think to do was grab your gun and shoot him first.”
Sage didn’t reply. He kept walking until they reached Ma’s place. He set her on her feet, then took her arm and led her to their room. He turned up a lantern Ma had left lit.
“I forgot Ma’s shawl,” Maggie said.
“She’ll find it.” Sage began undressing. “Get your clothes off. We’ll both need our rest. We’ll leave early for Lander.” It was an order. He’d become the angry outlaw again.
Maggie began undressing. She stepped out of her dress and let it fall, then removed her many slips and unlaced her camisole. The magic of the night was ruined, and she wanted to cry. She took off the camisole and laid it aside, then pulled on her robe.
She walked to the other side of the bed, her back to Sage as he finished undressing. She unlaced her shoes, something else Sage bought from the harlot named Louellen. The air in the room seemed too heavy. Everything was different.
Sage
was different. In spite of the warm night, Maggie felt cold.
“I only got six hundred dollars off that bastard,” Sage grumbled. “They took four thousand. I hope I find the rest on the other two. If they divided it up, maybe I’ll at least get another fifteen hundred of it back. God knows how much they spent on horses, whores, and gambling. And now, I’m wondering what John Polk might have had to do with all this.”
Maggie didn’t reply, not sure what words might soothe his anger or make him madder. She sat on the side of the bed… waiting… not sure what for. A beating? No—not from Sage Lightfoot. A good tongue-lashing? Surely, she’d get that much. She felt the bed moving and noticed the room dim as Sage apparently turned down the lantern. His arm came around her then, and he pulled her under the covers… and into his arms.
“Damn it, Maggie, did I hurt you when I pushed you down?”
“I don’t think so. I’m still in shock.” Maggie shivered. “I never expected to see that man’s face, Sage. I couldn’t believe it.”
Sage pressed her closer. “I should have been more alert. This is an example of why you can never let your guard down in this country. Promise me you’ll never try to take things into your own hands again.”
Maggie snuggled her face into his neck. “I promise.”
Sage wrapped a hand into her hair. “Seeing that son of a bitch must bring back ugly memories.”
She moved an arm around his middle, loving the feeling of safety in his arms. Sage stroked her hair, and in the next moment, he covered her mouth in a fiery kiss as he pushed open her robe.
“Let me take it away, Maggie,” he offered, his voice husky with desire. “Let me help erase the bad memories.”
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the taste of his mouth, the gentle strokes of his hands. “Sage,” she whispered. “His face… that awful face…”
“Look at me, Maggie.”
She gazed into his eyes.
“It’s me. Sage. And I promise you, men like that will never touch you again.”
Maggie melted into him, needing to remind herself how good and beautiful this could be. She felt him move inside of her, gently burying himself deep, claiming her, owning her, taking away the ugly memories Cleve Fletcher had revived. This was Sage… and he knew how to make this a matter of ecstasy and joy. Maggie responded from the sheer pleasure he quickly awakened, meeting his gentle rhythm, until she gasped with the splendor of his manhood.
Soon his life spilled into her. He relaxed then, and Maggie could tell most of his initial anger had finally left him. He rolled away from her and scooted up against the headboard.
Maggie put an arm across his solid stomach and rested her head against his chest.
“I shouldn’t have made love to you without protection.” He sighed. “I swore I wouldn’t do that. I just… I wanted to take it all away, Maggie.”
“It’s okay. I
needed
you to take it all away.” Maggie couldn’t help wondering if the dead man back at the barn dance might be her baby’s father. How could she tell Sage such a thing?
“Still, I’m sorry.” Sage caressed her hair. “After seeing that bastard, you probably weren’t ready for taking a man.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Sage. I reacted in all the wrong ways.”
He squeezed her closer. “Just don’t grab for my gun again. If I didn’t quickly realize it was you, I might have swung around and clobbered you full force. I could have hurt you really bad before I realized what was happening.”
“I know.”
“Do you see what I mean about the possibility of you being caught without your gun? What if he’d waited till you walked outside? You’d have been as helpless as that night on the prairie.”
“But what if he saw you first? I did what I did so he couldn’t take you off guard.”
“Maggie!” He leaned on one elbow and made her look at him. In the dim light, she could see the determination and sureness in his dark eyes. “How often do I need to remind you that I rode with men like that for years? I’ve handled men far more dangerous than Cleve Fletcher—believe me. Get that through your head, or you’ll get us killed. You might have got Ma killed tonight, or some other innocent person.”
Maggie wilted against him. “He came out of nowhere. And when I realized he didn’t recognize me at first… realized I’d been nothing but a faceless woman that night he and the others—”
Sage put a hand to her lips. “They actually never touched you, Maggie. That’s how I see it. They didn’t touch what’s inside… here.” He ran his fingers between her breasts. “From what you’ve told me, not even your husband touched you that way. I’m the only one who has, so put the others out of your head. I’m the only man you’ve ever given yourself to willingly.”
The words stabbed at her heart. She reached around his neck and pulled him to her, tasting his mouth willingly. “Make love to me again, Sage… the right way.”
He gladly obliged, and the way he moved over her… the way he took her yet again… made her feel beautiful, cherished, protected.
They settled under the covers for some badly needed rest. Tomorrow they would leave for Lander. Soon, this part of their journey would be over. They’d go back to Paradise Valley. Maggie hoped that by then Sage would love her so much that when she told him the truth, he’d actually accept it, and it wouldn’t change his feelings for her. She clung to him, wishing she’d never have to let go.
Sage worked the horses and mules hard, in a hurry to reach Lander. Every day was the same, not much talk, a lot of riding, few stops. More than once, Maggie was grateful for the sure-footed steeds Sage had chosen for the trip. One trail took them several days over mountainside cutouts barely wide enough for the animals. They finally reached a point where they had to dismount and lead the horses by the reins—“Just in case one goes over the edge,” Sage told her.
Maggie dared to glance over the side into what seemed a bottomless canyon. “Just so one of
us
doesn’t go over the edge,” she muttered, more to herself than to Sage. She felt sick to her stomach, unsure if it was her pregnancy or the reeling height. “How much farther before we start going down instead of up?” she spoke louder to Sage.
“A half mile maybe.” He stopped and looked back. “You okay?”
Maggie took a deep breath. “Well, on this whole journey, whenever we were high, it was always someplace where there was still plenty of ground under us. We’ve never been on such a narrow path.”
Sage turned and kept walking. “It gets a little wider not much farther ahead. Just keep your eyes on the path, and don’t look down.”
Sure.
Maggie did as he said. “What happens if we meet someone coming down?”
“Then they have to figure out a way to turn around and go back up till we reach a place wide enough to pass each other.”
Fine. Simple.
Maggie thought how, if she wasn’t so damned scared, she’d enjoy stopping to drink in the stunning view. Across the awesome canyon she spotted a cascading waterfall. A green-gray haze drifted lazily around rocky spires that jutted upward from the canyon. Ahead lay endless peaks that stretched into the horizon.
“How far do you think we can see from here?”
“Forty-fifty miles… probably more. Hard to tell. Damn big, isn’t it?”
“Big isn’t a fitting enough word. I’ve never felt so small in my life,” she called aloud.
Fifty
miles
—
maybe
more.
Again, as had happened so often since her attack and James’s death, Maggie couldn’t fathom she was really here. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d end up carrying an outlaw’s baby, while traveling through the most desolate, frightening landscape one could travel… with a man she’d met only eight weeks ago, yet she had already slept with him… already fallen in love with him.
Who was Maggie Tucker? She’d lost her identity… her perspective… her husband and the life she thought she’d be leading, perhaps in Oregon by now. What if her attack had never occurred? She’d have spent the rest of her days in a loveless marriage, working a new farm, never knowing this kind of adventure… never meeting Sage Lightfoot. She remembered once, when she was little, her mother told her that God had a plan for everyone. If His plan was for her to fall in love with Sage, then she could only pray it would last.
Still, how could Sage possibly care about some other man’s child? If he turned her out, she’d find a way to raise her baby and never tell him or her about its beginnings. She’d make something up about the father—make him sound like the most wonderful man who ever lived.
She couldn’t think of a better man than Sage. What a strong, protective father he would be…
could
be… if he chose. He’d built his fine home big enough for children, but he’d planned to have those children with Joanna. Why would he want to raise the bastard child of an outlaw? Her heart fell at the thought of how easily his love for her would likely blow away with the Wyoming wind once he saw Joanna again.
A few rocks let loose and went tumbling, disappearing into the chasm below and bringing Maggie’s thoughts to the current situation. Sage stopped and looked back.
“I’m all right,” she assured him.
“They say that on this trail even the horses and mules pray.”
“I have no doubt they do,” Maggie answered.
Minutes later, as Sage promised, the roadway finally widened. How the road even came to be was a mystery. How many men had died when they first searched for a way over this mountain? How many more died chipping at the mountainside, probably using dynamite to create this excuse of a road?
After another hour of walking as close to heaven as Maggie figured she’d ever be without dying, they headed downward. Maggie soon realized that going down was no less harrowing than going up… maybe worse.
“Do we have to come over this trail when we head back to Paradise Valley?” she asked Sage, nervously wanting to keep a conversation going.
“No,” Sage answered. “To get back to the ranch, we’ll head farther east first, then south. That country is more open. We’ll mostly be looking at the mountains instead of traveling through them.”
Thank
God.
They finally reached an area where the path widened considerably for a good half mile.
“We’ll camp here. The horses need a rest after that climb.”
The
horses
need a rest?
“Going down is about as difficult as coming up,” Sage continued. “I don’t want the horses trying to fight gravity and loosen stone when they’re tired out.”
Heaven
forbid.
Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m all for stopping,” she agreed. “Will we be able to make a fire?”
Sage looked at the scrubby growth on the side of the mountain. “Not from anything up here, but we should have enough left from the wood bundle we brought to make one later. We’ll wait till it’s darker. It’ll get pretty cold up here, even though it’s plenty warm now in the valleys.” He unloaded some of his gear.
Maggie watched him thoughtfully. Again, while they traveled, he’d said nothing about loving her, and nothing more about their encounter with Cleve Fletcher. Once they were on the trail, he was all business, and now, more than ever, he was zeroed in on finding Fletcher’s friends, as well as John Polk. He reminded Maggie of a hound on the scent. They’d traveled so hard and fast that neither had the energy at night to consider making love, let alone how uncomfortable it would be.
They made camp and ate some cold biscuits Ma had given them. The old woman hugged them before they left, wished them luck. Maggie liked Ma. She had a feeling the old woman would have understood what she was going through right now. Maybe Ma could have given her some advice.
Darkness came rapidly, as it always did out here. Sage built a fire, and they spread their bedrolls close to it.
“We’d better take turns keeping watch of the horses and mules,” Sage told her. “There could be wolves or grizzlies up here—usually not this high, but you never know.”
“Well, after being so tense all the way up here, I could use some sleep first, if you don’t care,” Maggie told him.
“Fine with me.” Sage rolled and lit a cigarette. “By the way, you aren’t carrying, are you?”
The question took Maggie by complete surprise. Her heart pounded. Did he somehow know? “What?” she asked, hardly able to find her voice.
“Back there in Atlantic City… I still feel guilty that I didn’t use protection. I was so damn mad and worked up over what happened that I just didn’t care.”
Maggie breathed a little easier, but his question made lying feel like she was stabbing him in the back. “I wouldn’t know this soon. It would take me another month to know for sure.”
Sage smoked quietly. “Good. By then, we should be back at the ranch where we can talk things out.”
Talk things out? Was he having doubts? Was he thinking about that letter from Joanna and how he’d feel if he saw her again?
“Sage.”
“Yeah?”
“No matter what happens, I love you and always will.” Maggie watched the red embers of the end of his cigarette as he drew on it. He exhaled as he walked to where she stood and wrapped his arms around her. Maggie breathed in his now-familiar scent.
“Same here,” he answered. “Now go to sleep. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”
Maggie knew that’s all she would get out of him.
Same
here.
That was better than nothing at all. For now, he was Sage Lightfoot the hunter. Tender moments would be scarce while on the trail of men he intended to kill.