Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(56)

Sadie lifted agonized eyes to Dat, Levi, Samuel, and finally to Mark.

“Why?”

It was all she could think to say. Paris, then Ezra, and now Nevaeh. Would she be able to bow her head in submission one more time? What purpose was there in letting that beautiful horse die? There was no reason that made any sense. God was not cruel this way, was he?

Dat came over with Rebekah and Leah. They all touched her, trying to convey some sort of hope, sympathy, caring, but Sadie was past feeling anything. She was numb, completely numb.

“We’ll get you another horse, Sadie,” Dat said, so kindly.

“We have a hospital bill,” Mam said sharply.

Everyone turned to stare at her, most of them in disbelief.

Dat straightened, said grimly, “I know we have a hospital bill. God will provide a way for us to pay it.”

Rachel and Lydia exchanged glances as Mam turned, her eyes black with hatred, and … what else?

Sadie was afraid, shaken.

Dear God, help us all.

They had company now. She must brace up for Dat’s sake.

Sadie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and willed the pool of tears to be contained for now.

“Well,” she said, quietly. “He didn’t suffer long.”

Dat shook his head.

Mark said, “He was brave. That horse was…”

He stopped.

Sadie nodded, then said, “Well, it’s Christmas. Why don’t we make another pot of coffee?”

Everyone smiled in agreement, relieved at Sadie’s strength. Lydia gave her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance, and Rachel smiled a shaky smile in her direction.

Reuben, Anna, and the gaggle of towheaded cousins clattered up from the basement. Dashing into the kitchen, they slid to a stop when they saw all the serious faces.

“Did you find Nevaeh?” Anna asked innocently, helping herself to a large dish of date pudding.

“Yes, we did,” Dat answered.

“Good!”

Reuben grabbed three large squares of peanut butter fudge, was told to return two of them to the platter, and then he dashed out the door. The cousins followed, clumping back down the stairs to the basement.

“There’s some serious ping-pong going on down there,” Levi grinned.

Mark came over, stood by Sadie, and asked if she wanted to see Nevaeh.

“How would I?” she asked, gesturing to her cast.

“Do you have an express wagon?” he asked, looking around.

Dat brought the express wagon and Mark spread his buggy robe on it. Her sisters bundled Sadie up and deposited her unceremoniously on the wooden wagon. Then she and Mark were off.

They didn’t talk. Mark focused on using his strength to pull the express wagon through the trampled snow, and Sadie had nothing to say. The whole afternoon had a sense of unreality and, now that the sun was casting a reddish glow behind Atkin’s Ridge and creating the color of lavender on the snow, it all seemed like a fairy tale.

Sadie shivered, then smiled up at Mark when he looked back to ask how she was doing.

They came to the place where the fence was torn. The post hung by one strand of barbed wire. Its top was rough and not cut evenly, the way some western fences were built. Snow was mixed with dirt, grass flung about, bits of frozen ground clinging to the post as if reluctant to let go.

Mark showed her where Nevaeh had started bleeding, then began pulling her through the thick brush. She held up an arm to shield her face as snow showered her from the branches. She used the other arm to hold onto the wagon. She bent her head to avoid the whipping brush. Then the wagon stopped.

“Here he is.”

That’s all Mark said.

Sadie looked and saw the beautiful black and white coat—saw Nevaeh. It’s strange how a horse’s head looks so small and flat and vulnerable when it lies on its side. Its neck, too. Its body seems much too large for that small head. Dat told her once that horses don’t lie flat like that for a long period of time; they have difficulty breathing.

Yes, Dat, I know. But Nevaeh is not having difficulty breathing. She’s not even breathing. She’s dead.

Sadie gathered her thoughts and remembered Mark.

She was not going to cry, not when she was with Mark. She was always in some kind of stupid trouble when he was around, so no crying. Certainly not this time. Nevaeh was only a horse.

And then she lowered her face in her hands and cried hard. She sniffled and sobbed and needed a handkerchief. Her eyes became red and swollen, and so did her nose. Tears poured through her fingers, and she shook all over with the force of her sobs.

Mark made one swift, fluid movement, and he was on his knees at her side. His arms came around her, heavy and powerful, and he held her head to his shoulder the way a small child is comforted. He just held her until her sobs weakened and slowed, the way a thunderstorm fades away on a summer day. Tears, like rain, still fell, but the power of her grief was relieved.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, hiccuping.

“Sadie, Sadie.”

That’s all he said.

She didn’t know how long they were there, Sadie seated on the wagon, Mark on his knees. She just knew she never, ever wanted him to go away. She wanted those strong, sure arms around her forever. Of this she was certain.

Besides, nothing else made any sense.

Finally he released her, leaned back, searched her eyes.