Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(13)

“You better get that breakfast on. There’s a bunch of hungry men out there.”

“Jim, do you… do you think they’ll all agree to put him down?” Sadie broke in.

“What? Who?”

“The horse.”

“Ain’t none of their business.”

“Well, whose business is it? Who’s going to say what gets done with him?”

“I dunno, missy. Likely the boss.”

Sadie turned back to peeling potatoes, her shoulders sagging a bit. She stiffened as she felt Jim’s hand on her shoulder.

“Listen. That there horse is gonna die, okay? He’s on his last breath. Don’t even think about him ’cause he ain’t gonna live.”

“He wants to live, Jim. I saw it in his eyes.”

Jim shrugged. Dorothy caught his eye and shook her head, and the conversation was over.

Sadie put the potatoes on to cook, then began breaking dozens of eggs into a large glass bowl. She added milk, salt, and pepper, then set the mixer on low, preparing the huge amount of scrambled eggs. Great loaves of homemade wheat bread were sliced and put into the toasters, slabs of butter spread thickly across the bread, melting into the crusty slices. The grill was loaded with bacon sizzling into curled, darkened, salty goodness. Dorothy kept forking finished pieces onto a serving platter and replenishing the grill with more long, limp slices of raw bacon.

They worked quietly now, both concentrating on finishing all the food at approximately the right time. This was all routine work. Today there was just a larger amount.

The dining room was majestic. At least Sadie always thought of it as majestic. There was simply no other word to describe it. The ceilings were vaulted and the beams exposed with great chandeliers hanging from the lofty height on long, thick chains. The windows were huge, allowing a view that was one of the most beautiful Sadie had ever seen.

She never tired of cleaning up after the hungry cowhands had eaten. Just being in that room made her happy. But she hardly ever ventured in while the men were there eating, being strictly warned by her mother not to be gallivanting about while that room was filled with those cowboy “wannabes.”

Sometimes when Mam spoke in that derisive tone, Sadie could tell that she thoroughly disliked some aspects of the West, but her pride and her upbringing would not allow her to say it directly. When Sadie mentioned it to Leah, she was met with stony opposition.

Of course Mam loved the West. She loved her house and Dat, and why in the world would Sadie come up with something like that? Sometimes she was just disappointed in Mam, that was what.

Sadie carried the square, stainless steel pans filled with scrambled eggs, biscuits, sausage gravy, and all the food they had prepared that morning. She dropped them expertly between the grids of the ornate steam table, an oak table with lights above it and hot water beneath the shining, stainless steel pans to keep the food piping hot.

She checked the number of heavy, white stoneware plates, the utensils wrapped in cloth napkins, and the mugs turned upside down beside the huge amount of coffee in shining urns.

The long pine tables were cleaned and polished to perfection with long benches on either side. The floor was wide with heavy planks, worn smooth and glistening from the many coats of polyurethane varnish that had been applied years ago.

Two massive glass doors stood at the end of the dining room, and Sadie’s heart skipped, stumbled, and kept going as she spotted a white pickup pulling a large gray trailer through the blowing snow.

Could it be? Would Mark… No, they were in a red cattle truck. It would be months before she heard anything, if ever. Jim was probably right.

She retreated when she heard the voice of Richard Caldwell in even louder tones than was normal, leading his men to breakfast.

“Never heard anything like it!”

Someone answered in quieter tones. Then, “But a whole herd? How are you ever going to make off with a whole herd at one time? I mean, yeah, years ago when the range was wide open, but now people are going to notice a bunch of horses together. Come on!”

Sadie couldn’t go back to the kitchen. Not now. She had to hear this. She turned her back, which was much the same as not being in the room at all. A herd of horses stolen? She agreed with Richard Caldwell. Not in this day and age.

She cringed inwardly as the huge doors opened and the men began to file in. She busied herself folding napkin and replenishing the ice bin, being quiet and straining her ears to hear what the men were saying. She hardly breathed when she realized the conversation was very serious. The men never stood around like this when there was breakfast to be eaten, especially at this late hour.

“Did you watch it?”

“Nah. Don’t watch TV.”

“Well you should watch the news.”

“Bah!”

“Yeah, but listen,” Richard Caldwell’s voice was heard above the din. “This guy in Hill County is wealthy. His horses are worth thousands of dollars. Thousands and thousands. I mean, he has a very distinguished bloodline going on there. He’s been breeding horses for years and years. All of a sudden, this guy goes out to the stables, and ‘Poof!’ his horses are no longer there. It’s unheard of.”

“The work of some extremely smart men.”

“Terrorists.”

“Arabs.”

“Oh, stop it. Those people wouldn’t bother with our ordinary horses.”