Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(22)

Richard Caldwell smiled, almost warmly, and Sadie could hardly believe the softness it created in his eyes.

“Thank you!” she said quietly.

“You think your Dad will let you have him?”

“I don’t know.” Sadie shrugged her shoulders.

“Strict, is he?”

“No. Not really. He’s just not much of a horse person.”

“And he’s Amish?”

Sadie grinned, “I know, strange, isn’t it?”

“He drives his horse and buggy though?”

“Yes. But, he calls horses ‘livestock.’”

Richard Caldwell laughed genuinely. “They’re not livestock?”

“No.”

She didn’t know why she did it, but as she stroked the horse’s neck, she began talking to Richard Caldwell—of all people—about Paris. She never mentioned Paris to anyone, not even her sisters. But Richard Caldwell listened as Sadie’s story unfolded. When she finished, a bit hesitantly, he looked out over the snowy landscape for a long time, then bent his head to look at her.

“Sadie, I know how it feels. We’ll get this horse better. What will you name him?”

Sadie’s intake of breath was all the reward he needed.

“Nevaeh.”

“Nevaeh?”

“It’s ‘heaven,’ backwards.”

“Sounds like a girl’s name.”

“Maybe … but this horse is just so … perfect … and …well … the name just seems to fit.”

Richard Caldwell turned away, opened the box stall door, and said, “Nevaeh it is.”

It was too gruff, but a man couldn’t get emotional now, could he?

A few evenings later, Richard and Barbara Caldwell sat in their private dining room, the oak table seeming incongruous as it stretched out far past the two large people seated at one end.

Barbara was dressed in red, her husband’s favorite color, her hair and make-up perfect. She had spent hours in town at the hair salon as she hatched the perfect plan for revenge.

Sadie Miller would have to go.

Richard Caldwell’s favorite dishes were served: crusty baked potato and filet mignon with horseradish and dill. The wine was perfect. Her husband was in a jovial mood.

“So, what was going on at the barn today that the Kitchen Help needed your assistance there?” she asked, heavily emphasizing “Kitchen Help.”

Richard stopped chewing and slowly laid down his fork. He picked up the monogrammed napkin and wiped his mouth before he cleared his throat.

Their eyes met. Clashed.

“Jim Sevarr almost hit a horse. Sadie was with him. The horse is in our barn and Sadie wants to keep him, but her father won’t let her.”

Barbara stabbed at her meat as her lips compressed.

“I thought Amish daughters are expected to obey their fathers. Why wouldn’t you respect that?”

“I am. That’s why the horse is here.”

“I see.”

The words were cold, hard pellets stinging Richard Caldwell’s mind. She was making him as uncomfortable as only cunning Barbara could. When she looked up, Richard Caldwell checked a mental urge to shake his wife. Malice glittered in the hard eyes he once thought beautiful. He shuddered and stopped himself, thinking of the look in Sadie’s eyes as she knelt by the failing horse—eyes so unlike his wife’s eyes.

“So does that mean she needs you to escort her to the barn?”

“Barbara. Stop. Of course not.”

“Well, I’m letting her go. She isn’t capable in the kitchen. We need a better helper for Dorothy Sevarr.”

“You will do no such thing. I hired Sadie Miller, and I say whether she stays or goes.”

“She’s been stealing food.”

Barbara’s breath was coming fast, her agitation rising, as she sensed her husband’s unwillingness to cooperate and his loyalty to Sadie Miller. Fear goaded her now, her words making very little sense as they hammered her husband.

“She … she took two biscuits. And ground beef. And … and tomato sauce. She … picked up the dry cleaning and kept $20. She … oh, I know now what she did. She broke my mother’s heirloom watch. She also broke her vase. On purpose.”

Richard Caldwell’s head went from side to side, like an angry bull pawing the ground.

“Barbara, you have no idea. I could never even imagine anything—any wrong notion—with her. She’s too good with that horse. She’s too pure. Firing her is out of the question. Sadie Miller and her horse are staying. I …need to see this, to see what happens.”

Barbara’s mouth fell open in astonishment as she watched the change in her husband’s eyes, his voice. He kept his voice low and even, but there was no doubt in his wife’s mind that he did not believe her. He never would. And if she wanted to feed her own sick jealousy, she could go right ahead.

Defeat wilted Barbara. She faded before her husband’s quiet anger in disbelief.

They ate dessert in silence, the edge of the room in darkness.





Chapter 7




DAT WAS IN A jovial, if not downright silly, mood. He was singing snatches of “Old Dan Sevarr” when he washed his hands at the small sink in the laundry room, which made Sadie wince. Why did that make her cringe, she wondered? Maybe because she was still smarting from his rough words the evening before. Now she wished he’d just stop that silly tune.