Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(35)

“Always!” Sadie agreed joyously.

Christmas was a special time in Amish homes and had always been as long as Sadie could remember. It was filled with gifts, shopping, and wrapping packages. Christmas-dinner tables were loaded with all sorts of good food from old recipes, handed down from generation to generation.

There were hymn-singings, too, where voices blended in a crescendo of praise to their Heavenly Father for the gift of his Son born in the lowly manger. The songs of old, printed hundreds of years ago in the old land and in the German dialect, were still sung together with thankful hearts.

When Sadie turned 16 and was allowed to go to the youth’s singings, the songs were never as meaningful as they were now. Youthful hearts were like that. They were more interested in who sat opposite, which boy was most handsome, who started the songs, and whether the snack served at the close of the singing was tasty or just some stale pretzels and leftover pies from church that day.

Sadie suddenly realized that Ezra was having a hard time holding his horse to a trot. His arms were held out in front of him, rigid, a muscle playing on the side of his face. The buggy was lurching and swaying a tiny bit, the way it did when the horse is running faster than normal.

Sadie watched Ezra, aware of his arms pulling back, his gloved hands holding the reins more firmly.

“Don’t know what’s getting into Captain. He better conserve his energy. We’ve got a long way to go.”

Captain’s head was up, his ears forward. He was not just running for the joy of it. He was wary. Scared.

“Ezra, I think Captain senses something.”

Ezra’s jaw was clenched now. With a quick flick of his wrist, he wrapped the reins around his hands to be able to exert more pressure on them without clenching his fists.

“Nah, he’s just frisky.”

Sadie said nothing, but watched Captain’s ears and the way he held his head in the white-blue light from the buggy. Captain’s ears flickered back, and the muscles on his haunches rippled, flattened, as he leaned into the collar.

Ezra shook his head.

“Guess he’s getting too many minerals. There’s a hill up ahead, that’ll slow him down some.”

“Are we… Are we on Sloam’s Ridge?”

“Starting up.”

Now Sadie watched the roadside. The pines and the bare branches of the aspen and oak were laden with snow—picture-perfect. Shadow and light played across them in the moonlight and highlighted the steep embankments on either side.

Captain was slowing his gait, the long pull up the ridge winding him. Ezra unwrapped the reins from around his hands, shook one and then the other, took off the glove, flexed his fingers, and laughed.

“He sure wants to run!”

Then she saw them. She swallowed her fear, said nothing, and leaned forward. Was it her imagination? Straining her eyes, she searched the pines. There! There was a dark, moving shadow.

There. Another!

“Ezra!”

“Hmmm?”

“I think…we’re… We might be followed.”

“What?”

“There!”

Sadie pointed a gloved finger, her mouth drying out with the certain realization of what had caused Captain to run.

“In the woods. Up that bank. Horses are there.”

Her heart pounded, her breath came in gasps.

“Captain knows it.”

“I don’t see anything,” Ezra said quite calmly.

“I think it would be safer for us to stop the buggy, get out, and try to hold Captain. We think … my mother saw … and I think I did, too … a herd of horses here on the ridge two weeks ago. Well, not this one—on the one they call Atkin’s Ridge. It’s the one closer to our home.”

“There are no wild horses in this area. Here among the Amish? Someone would capture them.”

Sadie opened her mouth to reply but had no chance to utter a word. Captain lunged and her body flew back as the seat tipped, then settled forward again. Sadie grabbed the lap robe, stifled a scream, and opened the buggy door on her side to see better.

Here was a figure! A crashing sound! There, oh my!

“Ezra!” she screamed. “We must stop Captain! We’re almost at the top of the ridge. These horses are following us. He’ll break! He’ll panic! Ezra, please stop.”

Ezra was holding onto the reins, staying calm.

“He won’t run away. He has more sense than that.”

“The top of the ridge is just ahead. There’s a wide bend, then straight down. The embankment to the left is hundreds of feet down. Please Ezra!”

She had to physically restrain herself from reaching over, grabbing those reins, and making him listen. If those horses emerged from the woods, if there was a stallion among them…

Sadie felt the hot bile in her throat. Her eyes watered and her nose burned, but she had no sensation of crying. It was raw fear.

The top of the ridge! Oh, dear God.

Despair as Sadie had never known sliced down her spine, like the ice water with which Reuben loved to attack his sisters. Now she was crying, begging, pleading with Ezra, but they kept traveling around that long bend, straight toward the dreaded embankment.

A horse! The clear, dark form of a large, black horse appeared beside the buggy. Two! They were on each side of them, streaming down from the woods with hooves clattering, manes whipping in the moonlight. Horses everywhere—black species of danger. Light in color to deep black—a whirl of hooves, wild eyes, lifted heads. They pounded on.