Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(18)

As the third message came on, headlights wound their way slowly up the drive.

Her heart took a nose dive and fear enveloped her. She hung onto the phone shelf, lowered her head, and prayed for help. She knew she must confront her father.

“Hey,” a deep voice said, “this is Mark Peight.”

She bit down hard on her lip, holding the receiver against her ear as tightly as possible.

“The horse was seen by a vet. He has a chance. He’s at Richard Caldwell’s stables. I’ll be by to check up on him.”

That was it. No good-bye, no wishing anyone a good day, still no information on whose horse he was or why he was there or anything—just a few clipped sentences. Definitely Mark.

But the horse had a chance!

A chance!

Oh, praise God!

Tomorrow morning could not come soon enough. But first, she needed to talk to her father. Things didn’t seem quite as hopeless as they had before her heart was filled with joy about the message. Surely if there was hope for the dying horse, there was hope for all kinds of situations—Mam’s included.

As Sadie walked out into the snow, Dat was paying the driver and Mam was stepping carefully onto the sidewalk. Sadie hesitated until Mam closed the kitchen door before calling to Dat. She had startled him, she could tell, but he found his way through the snow to Sadie’s side.

“Sadie.”

“Dat. I was checking messages, but…I really need to talk to you about Mam.”

“Why?”

Instantly Dat was alert, defensive.

“She’s … she’s … there’s something wrong with her, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s … she’s acting strangely, Dat.”

There was a slight pause before he stepped close, thrusting his face into hers, only the thin, swirling snow between them.

“Sadie, if I ever catch you saying anything like that to anyone in this community … I … I … don’t know what I’m going to do. Never, ever, mention Mam to anyone, do you hear me? There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s just tired.”

“But … but Leah heard you arguing.”

“Leah didn’t hear anything. Do you hear me?”

His large hand clamped like a vice on her forearm, and he shook her slightly.

“You do hear me, don’t you?”

Sadie nodded dumbly, her feet like dead weights in the snow, her body shivering as a chill swept through her. As Dat turned on his heel and walked away, Sadie leaned against the rough boards of the barn and thought her heart would break in two.





Chapter 6




MAM WAS IN THE kitchen at six o’clock the following morning, frying bacon in her good Lifetime pan, her hair neatly in place beneath her covering, a fresh white apron tied around her waist. Dat sat at his desk in the adjoining room, his gray head bent over a few papers spread before him.

So normal. A fresh start. Last night was all a bad dream which would soon evaporate like a mist, Sadie thought.

“Good morning!” she said.

Dat returned the greeting, avoiding her eyes, and Mam turned, the spatula dripping bacon grease, and smiled.

“Good morning, Sadie.”

Sadie sliced the heavy loaf of whole wheat bread, then spread the thick slices in the broiler part of the gas oven to make toast as Mam broke eggs into another pan.

The ordinary silence was deafening this morning, taut with undiagnosed worries and fears. Sadie desperately wanted to chatter needlessly, the way families do, comfortably knowing their words are accepted, considered worth something of importance. Not until now had she ever thought of the pure luxury of such simple things.

But they had the snow, the heat from the great woodstove, the smell of bacon—the usual parts of their lives that bound them together.

She cleared her throat.

“I … guess you heard about the horse, huh?”

“What horse?” Mam asked without turning.

Sadie told them of the previous day’s excitement, but her words banged against the wall, slid down, faded into the hardwood floor, and became nothing at all.

Dat was still poring over his papers, and Mam made a sort of clucking sound with her tongue, which could mean a series of warnings or wonderment or amazement. Or she may have done it completely out of habit from listening to four daughters and their views of life in general.

Sadie tried again to part the curtain of indifference.

“Did the chiropractor help you, Mam?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Sadie poured the rich, purple grape juice into short, heavy glasses and then sat down. She pulled her chair up to the table, and Dat, Mam, and Sadie bowed their heads, their hands folded in their laps, for a silent prayer before they began eating their breakfast.

Dat lifted his head, looked questioningly at Sadie, and lifted one eyebrow.

“Where’s Leah?”

“Asleep, I guess. She has off today.”

“The reason I ask, I saw someone walking down the driveway at one o’clock last night. Was it you? Do you know anything about it? Definitely a dark coat, scarf, and a skirt. The snow had stopped before then, but I still couldn’t see clearly enough to tell who it was.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Sadie. “And why would Leah be walking in the snow at that hour? That’s creepy. Are you sure?”