Free The Touch of Sage by Marcia Lynn McClure Page B

Trying to distract herself from the desire to cry because of his obvious rejection, she reached down and patted Bullet ’ s happy head.
    “Y- you just let your aunt know what day you ’ ll be by for supper, ” Sage choked, brushing past Reb quickly. In that same moment , she noticed the clouds moving in from the west , and she thanked the h eavens for them. She knew she would sorely need them this day.
                 
    Reb squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, knowing he had offended her. But he was self-protective, empty— with nothing to offer a woman. He knew her gesture had been merely that of one friend looking out for another, but he also recognized the warmth in his body when she had tou ched him—knew it sprang from desire— from the want of her continued touch. It would ’ ve been dangerous to allow her to continue touching him when his resistance was down. Yet now he had slighted her , and that knowledge also caused him to feel.
    “ Come on, Bullet, ” he grumbled. “ Let ’ s get on home. ”
     
    Sage set the basket of things she had purchased from th e general store on the boarding house front porch. The rain hadn ’ t arrived yet , and she needed it so des perately. Careless of her well-being— as her i mpending tears often found her— Sage went to the barn and saddled Drifter.
    She could feel the moisture heavy in her eyes, but the rain still had not come when she reached the creek bed . Quickly she tied Drifter ’ s reins to a piñon tree and hurried over the hill to Ruthie ’ s grave. As she knelt before the tiny gravestone, Sage felt the first blessed drops of rain on her cheeks , and with them Sage ’ s tears began to flow freely. The pain in her heart caused by Reb ’ s obvious disgust at her touch stung unbearably sharp and harsh. She felt as if someone had actually plunged something into her bosom. She sobbed bitterly, cried out with the agony of loneliness and despair.
    She loved him! She c ould no longer deceive herself— deny her heart , and the inward admission was excruciat ing. She kept seeing his face— the frown, which had instantly puckered hi s brow when she had touched him— kept envisioning the way his eyes narrowed with revulsion.
    “ Am I so revolting, Ruthie? ” she sobbed quietly. “I t was just a smudge…a little bit of dirt. I- I only wanted to… ” But her words were lost as tears and sobbing overwhelmed her again. The few soft drops of rain gave way to a heavier, colder downpour.
     
    Reb had approached Ruth ’ s grave from behind— for he had assumed he would find Sage there. W hen he had gone to the boarding house to offer some sort of awkward apology to her and found her basket sitting on the front porch, he had suspected she would go to Ruth. He did not expect, however, to see her kneeling on the ground before the tiny gravestone drenched in tears as well as rain. Self-loathing overtook him at the sight . H e turned Ned around and headed back to the boarding house . He would give Sage her privacy. He had stayed his distance , and the noise of the rain would drown out any sound his retreat might make. As he rode back to the boarding house, his resolve was firm— he owed his aunt ’ s friend an apology. No. He owed his friend an apology. Uncertain at that moment how to offer one to her, still he knew he must. He wou ld wait for her to return— visit with his aunt and the other ladies— let Ned and Bullet keep company out in the barn whil e he waited out the rain. Sage—a sweet, beautiful young woman— did not deserve to be ill-treated by the likes of Rebel Mitchell. He would simply have to be on his guard better when she was around. After all, it wasn ’ t her fault Ivy Dalton had been born.
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    “ It was a hard row to hoe, ” Reb ’ s aunt told him. “ Four little girls left orphaned…and I say four little girls because Sage was only sixteen…a child herself, really. ” Reb nodded, agreeing with his aunt ’ s opinion