Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(20)

Sadie knew no one ever spoke to Richard Caldwell like that, except feisty little Dorothy. Sadie hid a wide grin, then ducked her head as she unsuccessfully tried to hold back a joyous bubble of laughter.

“Now, Dorothy. Now, now. We’re just going to the barn to see this horse. We’ll be back in two shakes.”

Dorothy harrumphed disdainfully, turning away to mutter to herself as Richard Caldwell held the door for Sadie.

The fresh, cold air smacked Sadie’s face, and the wide, blue sky with its white, brassy sunshine filled her heart with its sheer beauty. She flung out her arms and skipped like a small child.

Snow was like that. It was so cold and so white that even the sun and the blue sky blended together to make everything more cold and white and awesome. She wanted to fling herself on her back and make snow angels the way she used to back home in Ohio, but she knew better. She couldn’t do that—she was walking to the stables with her boss, Richard Caldwell.

She stiffened when she felt his big hand touch her shoulder and stay there.

“Sadie, you’re a good girl. I appreciate your work here at Aspen East. This horse is a gift, and I hope you have many happy days together.”

Sadie was speechless. She could not have spoken one word to save her life, so she stopped walking and turned to face him, hoping to convey her thanks somehow.

Richard Caldwell was not a man given to flowery compliments or words of praise. It just wasn’t his way. But there was something about this girl’s dutiful demeanor, her faithfulness, that touched a chord in his heart.

With hairbrush stopped in mid-air, Barbara Caldwell parted the curtains for a better view. Her breathing grew rapid, and her steely, gray eyes flattened into lines of hatred. Then she flung the gilded hairbrush against the wall, creating a slight dent in the scrolled wallpaper before the brush hit the carpeted floor.

Barbara watched her husband open the stable door for Sadie and disappear inside. She threw the matching, gilded hand mirror against the same wall, creating a larger dent than the first.

So that’s what Richard Caldwell is up to, she thought bitterly.

She remembered the sleepless night she had recently alone in the huge, canopied brass bed, wondering what had happened to her husband. Did marriages deteriorate on their own?

That sweet-faced, serene-looking little hypocrite! How could she? Weren’t these odd people who drove around in their horses and buggies supposed to be different? Better?

Barbara snorted, a sound of frustration and aggravation, followed by a feeling of helplessness and fear.

She never knew Richard Caldwell to be so cold and distant. He never wanted to go out with her anymore or share an intimate conversation. She wouldn’t think of trying to hug her husband—or touch him in any way—as many women did naturally throughout the day. There was an unseen barrier, a frightening, cold, barbed wire fence surrounding him, leaving her completely unsure of herself. So she hid behind an armor of dignity, of cruelty. Or she thought she did.

Sliding the stool over to the vanity, Barbara turned up the lights. She leaned forward, turning her face this way, then that.

She needed more Botox. Her wrinkles were becoming too prominent around her eyes.

As she lifted her thick, blonde hair, a plan formed in her mind, turning her eyes into a narrow line, a calculating thinness.

She would talk to Richard. She had her ways. Sadie would pay for this.

The dim interior of the stables was a contrast to the brightness outside, but the warm, wonderful smells enveloped Sadie. She breathed in, savoring the smell of the hay and oats, the saddle soap and leather, the straw and disinfectant—all odors pertaining to the creature she adored most on earth, the horse.

The stable was not an ordinary barn like the place where Amish people kept their horses. This stable was luxurious, housing fine horses with good bloodlines that cost thousands of dollars.

There was a long, wide walkway down the center of the barn with large box stalls on either side. The stalls were built of wood and finished to a glossy sheen. Throughout the barn, black and shiny iron grids were built into the wood. Large airy windows, ceiling fans, and regulated temperatures kept the place comfortable, no matter the weather.

Sadie had been in these stables before, but she had never actually walked along the center walkway. Her eyes roamed the walls, the ceiling, the texture of the floor, marveling at the unbelievable amount of time and expense that went into something as simple as a horse barn. Richard Caldwell must have more money than she could even imagine.

“Over here,” he said suddenly in his loud voice, and Sadie instantly clutched at the lapels of her coat, compressing her lips to hide her nervousness.

He slid back a bolt and swung open a heavy gate.

Sadie blinked.

He was standing up! On his own four feet!

She didn’t realize that a soft sound escaped her compressed lips. She didn’t know she had lovingly reached out to touch the horse. She just knew she had never felt such aching pity for any other creature.

He was bigger than Sadie thought, remembering his still form lying in the snow. He didn’t seem that big then. His two front legs were splayed, as if placing them farther apart would enable him to stay upright longer. His breathing was shallow and much too fast. His tender nostrils changed their shape with every breath as he struggled to stay on his feet, to stay alive. But his neck! Oh, it was so horribly thin! His head was much too big!

How could a horse stay alive looking like this? How could he keep from dying? Sadie looked questioningly at Richard Caldwell, who nodded his head knowingly, though she didn’t say a word.