Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(10)

“I do.”

Mark produced his wallet, extracted a business card and a pen, and she said, breathlessly, “761-4969.”

He wrote down the number and looked up.

“Just…if it’s not too much bother, let me know.”

“All right.”

With one last glance at the broken form on the ground, Sadie hurried to Jim’s old truck, got in, and slammed the door. She didn’t look back.

“Who’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

“City slicker, that one. Beanie. Humph.”

Jim had no use for anyone covering their ears in cold weather, Sadie knew. She didn’t care who wore a beanie and who wore a Stetson or Amish straw hat or whatever, she was sick in her heart about that horse.

Why was it always the same? If she felt any connection at all with a horse, it was taken away. She would never see or hear from that Mark person, and like Paris, this sick animal would disappear and that would be that. It was just the way life was.

Oh, my, but that Mark.

Just wait ’til I tell Leah.

It was a secret the girls shared, knowing Dat would snort and Mam would rebuke them. They talked about who was good-looking, who was available for marriage, who they would accept, and who they wouldn’t. Amish or not, all girls talked and giggled about this subject. Sadie and Leah endlessly tried to figure out what Mam meant when she said, “You don’t go by looks.”

Of course you went by looks. They never told Mam this, but it was a universal truth. The way a courtship began was with physical attraction. Even birds chose just the right one by the beautifully-colored plumage or the best song or the most intricate dance. It was the same way with katydids and bats and frogs and squirrels and every living thing on God’s earth.

That was the way it was.

But Sadie wasn’t sure if she would tell Leah about Mark after all. She wanted to laugh and giggle and talk and dream, but, somehow, this was not like the other times. This seemed to be something more dangerous. Also more embarrassing. And more hopeless. It was truly horrible. Whoever heard of one’s knees becoming weak from looking at another person?

Oh, it was awful.

She glanced over at Jim, almost sure he could tell what she was thinking. Instead, he was frowning, shifting his wad of chewing tobacco from one cheek to another, which always made Sadie swallow hard.

So she looked out the window to her right and watched the snow swirling and the trees and the hillside being converted from dull browns and earthy sage-green to a pristine winter wonderland.

Sadie truly loved Montana. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking almost the whole year-round. Her favorite season was the long winter because of the skiing, sledding, and snowboarding. Another favorite pastime for the youth in Montana was piling on a huge inner tube from a tractor and being pulled with a sturdy rope attached to the saddle of a horse. A good horse lunged through deep snow, easily pulling a person on an inner tube until they were completely covered with snow, like a peanut butter cracker dipped in chocolate—only it was white. And there was nothing that quite matched the exhilaration of riding a horse on an endless sweep of sparkling snow, especially if the horse had been bored from standing in his box stall and was aching to run.

Sadie’s thoughts returned to the day as they approached the magnificent entrance to Aspen East.

Elaborate brick pillars rose on both sides of the wide driveway with scrolls of beautiful ironwork across the top. Bronze statues of cattle were cemented into the brickwork—truly a testimony to a local artist’s talents. Heavy trees bordered the driveway, bent with the weight of the snow, and the long, low ranch house came into view.

It was built with the finest logs and the shingles resembled old, gray Shaker ones, although they were only replicas. Huge windows and doors completed the look of the house, and the wonderful scenery enhanced the matching barns, stables, and sheds. There were also fences, gates, paddocks, bunkhouses, and garages. Everything was kept in fine form by the many employees that worked around the clock to keep this vast enterprise running efficiently.

The truck stopped, Jim grinned, and Sadie hopped down.

“Try and have a good day.”

“Jim, if you find out one thing about the horse, would you let me know?”

“Sure thing, little girl.”

Sadie was comforted by his words. Jim was such a good man. He surely deserved to be treated well in return.

The resounding voice of Jim’s wife greeted her before she pulled on the door latch.

“…where she got to! Ain’t never seed nothin’ like it. You get ten extra hands for breakfast, and that Sadie don’t show up. Them Amish havin’ no phones in their houses is the dumbest rule of ’em all.”

Sadie walked in amidst this tirade and grinned cheekily at the tiny buxom woman.

“Here I am!”

“Sadie! Now you heard me yellin’ about ya!”

“It’s okay. You love me.”

“I do sometimes.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Go get your apron on. How come you’re late?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try.”

“Huh-uh. We don’t have time, Dottie.”

“Don’t Dottie me.”

Sadie slid an arm across Dottie’s shoulders and whispered, “Good Morning, Dottie.”