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Sage gently poured water from a bucket onto the dry ground at the base of the little rose bush.

"There now," she said. "Your roses should take to bloomin' in just a few weeks, Ruthie." Crouching down in front of the small tombstone, Sage reached out, letting her fingers tenderly trace the roughly engraved letters of little Ruth's name. "I'm bettin' they'll be smellin' like Heaven itself this year."

She rose to her feet then, smiling at the tiny marker once more, before stepping through the weathered picket gate and latching it securely behind her. "I'll be back in a few days," she said, more to the air than to anyone else, for in reality there was no one else anywhere near to hear her. And she preferred it.

Sighing heavily, Sage strolled a ways away from the tiny, lonely little gravesite, closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh, sweet fragrance of the pastures. Oh, she knew some folks might not call these rather plain grazing fields, pastures . . . but to Sage Willows they were the most beautiful and serene place on earth.

Reaching back, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting its length fall down about her shoulders and back. The breeze played among the silken tresses, cool and soothing. Sage smiled. She could hear nothing but the soft breeze around her, the faint trickle of the creek just over the hill, the quiet hum of soothing bug music in the grass.

Inhaling deeply, Sage caught the scent of piñon trees, of dry soil and sagebrush. The fragrances of the pasture filled her senses with serenity, joy and an odd feeling of freedom. This was Sage's pasture . . . the one near where the creek ran, the one where Buck Smarthing's cattle had once grazed, the one where little Ruth States had rested in heavenly peace for over forty years. How she loved the space and dreamed of it in moments of despair. She was thankful her father had kept his grazing lands, choosing to rent them to local ranchers when their family moved into town to run the boarding house. She was filled with gratitude that the pastures were now hers, that she could continue to visit little Ruth, tend to her solitary grave, and find rare moments of joy and serenity in the quiet expanse of the pastures.

With a heavy sigh, Sage opened her eyes and began walking toward the creek bed where she had tied Drifter's reins to a small piñon tree. The late spring rain was past due and the creek ran low, but Drifter seemed contented enough with one final drink from its refreshing water. Sage hooked the bucket handle over the saddle horn and mounted.

"Creek's a bit low, isn't it, Drifter?" she said to the buckskin, leaning forward to stroke his jaw. "But you wait and see . . . the rain will come soon. Then you can get good and wet, and I can have a good cry."

Pausing to twist her hair into a bun once more, Sage clicked her tongue twice, nudging Drifter's belly with her stirrups to urge him toward home. As melancholy as the moment left her, Sage couldn't help but smile, wondering what in the world the ladies at the boarding house had been up to during her absence.

She loved the widows! All of them, even cranky old Mary. Sage often wondered what she would do without them. Not simply because the money for their board at Willow's was her one source of financial means, but because they were her friends--her true, loving and faithful friends. Oft times it felt to Sage as though she had four darling grandmothers to love and care for. And now . . . now that her youngest sister, Karoline, was also married, the ladies at Willow's would be her only company. Gifts of Heaven they were, and Sage was grateful for them.

?

"Ya simply cannot deal that way, Livie," Mary was scolding as Sage entered the boarding house by way of the parlor back door.

"I can so if I want to, Mary," Livie argued. "It doesn't matter how the cards are dealt."

"It does too!" Mary argued. "If ya go and deal 'em that way, they don't get mixed up enough. Ya have to give one to me, one to Rose, one to Eugenia and one to yerself. Then start it all over again. That's how it goes, Livie and ya know it! They don't get mixed up proper if ya don't deal 'em that way." Reaching for the deck of cards, Mary tried to take them away from Livie. "Give 'em to me if ya ain't gonna deal 'em right. I'll do it."

But Livie pulled hard, too, attempting to retain possession of the deck. "I'll do it, Mary! It's my deal and I can do it whichever way I see fit!"

"What's the matter, ladies?" Sage asked, smiling at the scene before her. Her four friends sat around the parlor table, apparently engaged in a heated afternoon of cards. As Rose sat, twisting a stray lock of hair around one finger, Eugenia read a telegram she was holding in her hand. Mary and Livie were ready to tear each other's hair out over a difference of opinion as to how the cards should be dealt.

"She ain't dealin' 'em proper, Sage!" Mary stated. "Ya know they don't get mixed up good if ya don't deal 'em right."

"I can deal them however I see fit! Can't I, Sage?" Livie retorted. Sage shook her head. As usual each woman made a legitimate point.

"Why not let her deal the cards the way she wants, Mary," Sage suggested. "Maybe the lack of proper mixin' up will turn out in your favor."

"She's spoilt rotten, Sage. That's all there is to it," Mary grumbled. Still, she let go of the deck of cards and sneered at her friend when Livie stuck her tongue out and continued to deal.

"They've been squabblin' like children ever since you left, Sage," Rose sighed. "It's a plain miracle that we've managed to play even four hands." Sage smiled, amused by Rose's relaxed manner. She sat one arm draped over the back of her chair, lounging indecorously, legs crossed and ankles showing for all the world to see. Though an older widowed woman, the traits of the relaxed proprieties of the stage were still often very apparent in Rose Applewhite's mannerisms. Sage loved Rose's free spirit, for it gave her cause to feel free and somewhat rebellious herself, if only by proxy.

"I've had another telegram from Bridie," Eugenia announced.

"Oh?" Livie asked still dealing seven cards to each player instead of one card to each alternately.

"Reb has agreed to take over the ranch," Eugenia said. Sighing, she folded the telegram and tucked it into her apron pocket.

"Are you sure that's what you want, Miss Eugenia?" Sage asked. Sage knew that since the death of her husband Buck, Eugenia had struggled with what to do concerning their large cattle ranch outside of town. "If ya sold it, you could make a mint of money."

Eugenia sighed again. "Oh, don't I know it, Sage," she admitted. But her eyes twinkled as she looked to the young girl. "But some things are worth so much more than money, sweetheart. And . . . and I want to see Reb happy. He's such a good and deservin' man. I want the ranch to be a success again, too. Buck worked so hard to see it to what it was."

"I still think it was might smug of that niece of yers to write and even ask such a thing," Mary grumbled. "Offerin' for her son to take over runnin' Buck's business," she said, shaking her head in obvious disapproval. "She's just ahopin' you'll drop off and leave the ranch to him 'stead of to yer own children."

"Mary!" Livie exclaimed.

"I'm just sayin' . . . it was a purty arrogant thing to ask," Mary grumbled.

But Eugenia smiled. "Reb is a wonderful boy," she explained. "He's had some misery of his own of recent . . . and I've always favored him. I'm glad to help him out and let him help me if he's willin'."

"Is he handsome at all, Eugenia?" Rose asked.

"For the love of Pete, Rose!" Mary exclaimed. "He's a boy!"

"Don't matter if he's a boy or not," Rose said. "I still prefer to look at the handsome ones more than I do the plain ones." Sage giggled, delighted by the women's banter.

Smiling, Eugenia said, "Yes, he's handsome, Rose. I expect you'll have quite a nice time lookin' him over.

"When's he comin', Miss Eugenia?" Sage asked. She wondered if Eugenia would have him stay out at the ranch right away, or if she had it in mind for him to board at Willow's for a time.

"I don't rightly know," Eugenia answered. "Bridie's still havin' a bit of trouble convincin' him all the way. But she's confident she will. She's told him how important the ranch is to me and all."

"Do you want me to prepare the extra room for him?" Sage asked.

Eugenia seemed thoughtful for a moment, finally saying, "It might be a good idea. I haven't been out to the ranch house in so long, and I'm sure it's just crawlin' with critters."

Sage smiled, for Eugenia seemed very excited about the possibility of having her favorite nephew close by. Eugenia deserved happiness and Sage was glad for her.

"I'll get lunch on, take Bullet for a walk, and then get right into that upstairs room, just in case," Sage said.

Eugenia reached out and took one of Sage's hands in her own, squeezing it affectionately. "You're too good to us all, Sage," she said.

"Rummy!" Rose giggled as she spread her cards on the table revealing her instant win.

Mary threw her cards to the table's surface with angry indignation. "I told ya, Livie! I told ya! Ya have to deal 'em out proper!"

Sage smiled as Rose leapt from her chair and began performing an elderly lady's version of the can-can. "Rummy, rummy, rummy!" she sang as she danced.

"It don't count a wit, Rose," Mary told her. "The cards weren't dealt proper."

"Rummy, rummy, rummy," Rose continued to sing, swishing her skirt and petticoats this way and that as she danced.

"Well, why don't we just throw a sign out on the front door . . . " Mary grumbled. "Willow's Saloon and Dance Hall . . . neked knees and ankles aflyin' ever'where."

Sage laughed, amused not only by Rose's scandalous behavior, but by Mary's predictable response as well.

"I'll get us some lunch," Sage said, smiling.

"Oh, lunch can wait," Eugenia said. "Come play a hand or two with us, Sage."

"Yes, Sage," Livie begged. "Please do."

"All right," Sage agreed pulling a spare chair up to the table. "just one . . . maybe two."

With a contented sigh, Rosie returned to her seat, only to hear Mary grumble, "It would serve ya right, Rose Applewhite . . . if the Reverend Tippetts hisself walked in here to see ya dancin' around like a heathen."

"You know as well as I do, Mary," Rose began, "that Scarlett Tippetts was a dance hall girl in Leadville before Reverend Tippetts married her. I 'spect he wouldn't be a bit undone." Rose picked up the deck of cards and began to shuffle.

"One at time, Rose. Ya just be sure ya deal 'em one at a time," Mary mumbled, irritated with being one-upped.

Sage looked at the faces of her friends, delighted for their company. Still, the familiar, painful pinch of regret pricked at her heart, reminding her of what she didn't have . . . of what she knew she never would have. Oh, she loved these dear ladies, it was true, but they did nothing to fill the loneliness, the gaping void in her soul, which longed for a life of wonder with a loving husband and a family all her own. The sting of buried resentment began to well up in her, but she fought it, painfully tucking it away and trying to concentrate on the cards in her hand.

Reminding herself she was blessed, that she was happy for her sisters and their blissful lives, Sage smiled, however half-heartedly when Mary said, "Now ya see, Livie? Proper dealin' . . . it's important."

"I feel a win comin' over me," Rose giggled.

"Well I just hope the Reverend Tippetts is in time to see it," Mary grumbled.

"Maybe he just will be, Mary," Rose said as she drew a card. "Then me and Scarlett Tippetts can both start into kickin' up our heels."

"That would be a sight!" Mary exclaimed, discarding a card. "A sight indeed."

Eugenia glanced at the sweet young woman at her side. One look at her nephew Rebel Lee Mitchell, and the girl would be lost. Or, perhaps found, whichever way Eugenia chose to look at it. It was in fact dangerously daring, quite meddling in reality, but Eugenia felt warm and excited inside, happier and brighter than she had felt since Buck passed. Reb's soul was damaged, it was true. But he wasn't completely unrecoverable. There was a heart in him yet. There had to be! And Eugenia could only hope Sage would be the one to find it.

Again Eugenia studied Sage, her sweet and lovely features, the smile she forced attempting to mask her profound loneliness. If only the girl knew what was about to arrive on the front porch step of Willow's Boarding House. If only she knew.