Wild Horses (23 page)

“But … how could he bleed to death?” Sadie whispered.

“He didn’t…completely. His leg was broken, almost off. We…we had to put him down.”

Sadie lifted agonized eyes to Dat, Levi, Samuel, and finally to Mark.

“Why?”

It was all she could think to say. Paris, then Ezra, and now Nevaeh. Would she be able to bow her head in submission one more time? What purpose was there in letting that beautiful horse die? There was no reason that made any sense. God was not cruel this way, was he?

Dat came over with Rebekah and Leah. They all touched her, trying to convey some sort of hope, sympathy, caring, but Sadie was past feeling anything. She was numb, completely numb.

“We’ll get you another horse, Sadie,” Dat said, so kindly.

“We have a hospital bill,” Mam said sharply.

Everyone turned to stare at her, most of them in disbelief.

Dat straightened, said grimly, “I know we have a hospital bill. God will provide a way for us to pay it.”

Rachel and Lydia exchanged glances as Mam turned, her eyes black with hatred, and … what else?

Sadie was afraid, shaken.

Dear God, help us all.

They had company now. She must brace up for Dat’s sake.

Sadie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and willed the pool of tears to be contained for now.

“Well,” she said, quietly. “He didn’t suffer long.”

Dat shook his head.

Mark said, “He was brave. That horse was…”

He stopped.

Sadie nodded, then said, “Well, it’s Christmas. Why don’t we make another pot of coffee?”

Everyone smiled in agreement, relieved at Sadie’s strength. Lydia gave her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance, and Rachel smiled a shaky smile in her direction.

Reuben, Anna, and the gaggle of towheaded cousins clattered up from the basement. Dashing into the kitchen, they slid to a stop when they saw all the serious faces.

“Did you find Nevaeh?” Anna asked innocently, helping herself to a large dish of date pudding.

“Yes, we did,” Dat answered.

“Good!”

Reuben grabbed three large squares of peanut butter fudge, was told to return two of them to the platter, and then he dashed out the door. The cousins followed, clumping back down the stairs to the basement.

“There’s some serious ping-pong going on down there,” Levi grinned.

Mark came over, stood by Sadie, and asked if she wanted to see Nevaeh.

“How would I?” she asked, gesturing to her cast.

“Do you have an express wagon?” he asked, looking around.

Dat brought the express wagon and Mark spread his buggy robe on it. Her sisters bundled Sadie up and deposited her unceremoniously on the wooden wagon. Then she and Mark were off.

They didn’t talk. Mark focused on using his strength to pull the express wagon through the trampled snow, and Sadie had nothing to say. The whole afternoon had a sense of unreality and, now that the sun was casting a reddish glow behind Atkin’s Ridge and creating the color of lavender on the snow, it all seemed like a fairy tale.

Sadie shivered, then smiled up at Mark when he looked back to ask how she was doing.

They came to the place where the fence was torn. The post hung by one strand of barbed wire. Its top was rough and not cut evenly, the way some western fences were built. Snow was mixed with dirt, grass flung about, bits of frozen ground clinging to the post as if reluctant to let go.

Mark showed her where Nevaeh had started bleeding, then began pulling her through the thick brush. She held up an arm to shield her face as snow showered her from the branches. She used the other arm to hold onto the wagon. She bent her head to avoid the whipping brush. Then the wagon stopped.

“Here he is.”

That’s all Mark said.

Sadie looked and saw the beautiful black and white coat—saw Nevaeh. It’s strange how a horse’s head looks so small and flat and vulnerable when it lies on its side. Its neck, too. Its body seems much too large for that small head. Dat told her once that horses don’t lie flat like that for a long period of time; they have difficulty breathing.

Yes, Dat, I know. But Nevaeh is not having difficulty breathing. She’s not even breathing. She’s dead.

Sadie gathered her thoughts and remembered Mark.

She was not going to cry, not when she was with Mark. She was always in some kind of stupid trouble when he was around, so no crying. Certainly not this time. Nevaeh was only a horse.

And then she lowered her face in her hands and cried hard. She sniffled and sobbed and needed a handkerchief. Her eyes became red and swollen, and so did her nose. Tears poured through her fingers, and she shook all over with the force of her sobs.

Mark made one swift, fluid movement, and he was on his knees at her side. His arms came around her, heavy and powerful, and he held her head to his shoulder the way a small child is comforted. He just held her until her sobs weakened and slowed, the way a thunderstorm fades away on a summer day. Tears, like rain, still fell, but the power of her grief was relieved.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, hiccuping.

“Sadie, Sadie.”

That’s all he said.

She didn’t know how long they were there, Sadie seated on the wagon, Mark on his knees. She just knew she never, ever wanted him to go away. She wanted those strong, sure arms around her forever. Of this she was certain.

Besides, nothing else made any sense.

Finally he released her, leaned back, searched her eyes.

“You okay?”

Meeting his eyes, Sadie nodded.

That was a mistake, was her first coherent thought, before his arms came around her again, crushing her to him. He held her so tightly, her ribs actually hurt a bit. Then he released her quite suddenly, stood up, cleared his throat, and went to pick up the wagon tongue. He trudged back to the house, not saying a word.

Sadie was stung, mortified. What had she done wrong? Had she offended him?

At the house, he declined her invitation to come in for coffee. Instead he hurriedly hitched his horse to the carriage and flew down the drive at a dangerous speed. It seemed he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Sadie knew she had lost him again.

A
FTER THE CUMBERSOME CAST
was removed, Sadie returned to the ranch.

It was wonderful to be back. Richard Caldwell welcomed her with his powerful voice bouncing off the cathedral ceilings. Jim told her, in his drawly, shy manner, that the place was not the same without her.

“Yer sorta like one o’ them sunbeams that comes down out o’ the gray skies, Sadie,” he said, sliding the ever-present toothpick to the opposite side of his teeth.

“Why, thank you, Jim. That’s a very nice compliment,” Sadie told him.

Dorothy held nothing back. She wept, she hugged Sadie close, she stood back to look deep into Sadie’s eyes, wiped her own eyes with a paper towel, honked her nose into it, then shook her head.

“In all my days, Sadie honey, I never seen nothin’ like it. When I walked into that there hospital and seen you layin’ there, I thought the hand o’ God was hovering right above your head. God brought you through. Only God. Praise his Almighty Name, an’ I mean it.”

Dorothy paused for breath, plunked her ample little body onto a kitchen chair, reached for her half-empty coffee cup. She set it down, pulled at her skirt, and began rubbing her knee.

“You know there’s a new store in town called Dollar Tree? Well, that’s where I got you that china cross. The artificial flowers around that cross looked so real, I swear I coulda pulled ‘em out o’ my own flower patch. You liked that, didn’t you?”

Sadie nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, yes, I put it away with the rest of the things in my hope chest,” she said carefully.

Dorothy’s eyes brightened.

“You did? See? I knew you’d like that! Too pretty for your room, wasn’t it? You had to put it away for your own house once you get married! Well, I always had good taste when it comes to gift-giving. Just have a knack there. I’ll tell you what, on your weddin’ day, I’ll get you another one, an’ you can have one on each side of your hutch cupboard.” Dorothy slapped her knee with enthusiasm, watching Sadie’s face like a small bird.

“Well you can, can’t ya?”

“Of course, Dorothy. I will.”

“Now that Dollar Tree, it’s not quite like my Dollar General. They don’t have them good shoes, mind you. Their Rice Krispies is two dollars a box, though. That ain’t so dear.”

Sadie nodded.

“Well, here I am runnin’ my mouth about the price o’ cereal and you didn’t tell me how you’re doin’.”

Sadie took a deep breath, then poured herself a large mug of coffee.

“My leg and foot are still swollen and sore. I have to be careful how I walk on it. My hair…”

She reached up to brush back the unruly, short strands on one side of her head.

“Be glad you’re alive. Just be glad!” Dorothy said, nodding her head for emphasis.

“Oh, I am, I am. I don’t mind my hair so much, but it’s hard not having the strength to be able to work the way I used to.”

“Well, today yer gonna do the light dusting and run the vacuum. Then you can sit right here at this table and chop vegetables. I’m havin’ vegetable soup with lots of ground beef and tomatoes, the way the boss likes it.”

There was a knock on the kitchen door, a small tapping sound.

“Now, who’d be knockin’? No need to do that!” Dorothy said, her eyebrows lowered.

She lifted her head and yelled, “You don’t need to knock!”

Sadie cringed when she saw Barbara Caldwell enter the kitchen, her long, white robe clutched around her middle. Her hair was disheveled, and without makeup she looked young and vulnerable. Her face was a ghastly color, so pale Sadie was afraid she’d fall over right there in the kitchen. Her voice trembled as she told them she’d been sick all morning, and was there anything Dorothy knew of that could help her digestive system?

Sadie held her breath, knowing Barbara was not Dorothy’s favorite person on the ranch, but Dorothy was cordial. She clucked and stewed, fussing on and on about the merits of gingerroot tea and how she would put in plenty of sugar for strength.

Barbara Caldwell sank gratefully into a kitchen chair, then looked at Sadie and smiled.

“How are you, Sadie?”

Sadie could not believe the smile or the question, especially since she had refused to come to their house on New Year’s Eve. Richard Caldwell had canceled at the last minute, apologizing profusely, and the whole family had eaten the delicious food all by themselves, shrugging their shoulders in resignation. Barbara was probably just too high-class to eat in an Amish home, they thought.

“I’m doing much better, thank you,” Sadie said politely, ducking her head to hide her embarrassment.

“You’ve come through a lot. Richard tells me your horse was killed.”

“He was put down, yes. His leg was broken.”

“Must be hard.”

“It is.”

Dorothy bustled over with the tea, setting it daintily on the table at Barbara’s elbow.

“There now. Try it.”

Barbara sipped appreciatively, then grimaced at the heat.

“Taste good?” Dorothy asked hopefully.

Barbara nodded.

Sadie got up, went to the closet, and got down the Pledge furniture polish and a clean cloth. It would be good to dust the beloved house again. She’d do the upstairs first, working her way down. She left the kitchen then, letting Dorothy care for Barbara.

Humming, Sadie started in the den—the great oak-paneled room that housed all of Richard Caldwell’s treasures. It was a massive room with great windows reaching to the height of the cathedral ceiling where fans moved quietly to ease the stuffiness of the baseboard heat.

She was whistling low under her breath, the way she always did when she dusted, enjoying the smell of the lemon furniture polish and the luster of the well made furniture under her hand.

“Hey! Sadie!”

Sadie jumped at Richard Caldwell’s booming voice.

Calm. I will be calm, Sadie told herself, giving one last swipe to the tabletop and turning slowly to face him.

“It’s real good to see you back, Sadie!”

“Thank you. It’s good to be here.”

“Sit down.”

Sadie obeyed, pressing her knees together nervously, smoothing her gray skirt over them.

He came straight to the point.

“What happened to…to your horse?”

Sadie thought of the fact that he always called Nevaeh “your horse.” Perhaps he wasn’t comfortable pronouncing her name. Either that, or he thought it was a foolish name for a horse.

“He tried to jump the fence. He…suffered a lot.”

Sadie stopped, the dreaded emotion rising in her throat.

“But why would he have the urge to try and jump the fence?”

Sadie shook her head, bit her lip.

Richard Caldwell got up, and in his abrupt way, grabbed the remote off the coffee table and pressed a button.

“I kept this for you.”

The huge flat-screen TV flashed to life on the opposite wall. Sadie saw the newscaster finish the story of a local murder in Billings, then look straight into the camera before beginning the news item Richard Caldwell wanted her to hear.