Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(61)

They had looked for tracks, but the brush was too thick and the cows had trampled everything.

So there was no use thinking about riding with Jim and the men. Nevaeh was gone.





Chapter 17




THE MEN MADE THEIR plans and rode out, but they did not find a single horse. It was as if the horses were phantoms, dark winds, specters in the night. Maybe they were contrived only by people’s imaginations.

“A schpence,” Dat said.

“What’s a schpence?” Reuben asked, looking up at his father as he lay on the rug in front of the wood stove. He was on his back, one leg propped on an upended knee, balancing a book precariously on top.

“A ghost,” Dat replied.

Reuben grunted and returned to his book.

Sadie was curled up on the recliner, a warm throw over her shoulders. She still tired easily, and home was a welcome haven when she returned from the ranch.

Always the dutiful one, Rebekah was finishing the supper dishes. Leah was in the phone shanty, and Anna was doing the crossword puzzle in the Daily Times.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, the pendulum swinging back and forth. A log fell in the wood stove, the propane gas lamp hissed comfortably, and Sadie’s eyelids dropped as she felt herself falling into that state of bliss just before sleep overtook her.

She was rudely awakened by a clattering sound. The front door banged open, and she heard a resounding, “Sadie!”

Sadie tossed the cotton throw, sat up, and tried to remember where she was.

“There’s a sledding party at Dan Detweilers! Want to go?”

Sadie groaned inwardly.

Hard as it was to admit to herself, she was no longer 16, and Sadie knew it was true, especially in moments like these. She no longer got excited by the same things as she did at 16—that time in your life when sledding parties, suppers, singings, and every event where a group of the youth had gathered, was a great deal.

Now at 20, she seriously had to weigh her options—the warm, cozy living room with the crackling fire versus the cold, snowy hillside where the wind penetrated your back no matter how many coats and sweaters you wore. There was always a bonfire, but that thoroughly roasted your face and your back was still cold.

Her hesitation brought a snort from Leah.

“What a spinster! You act like you’re not even thrilled to hear about it!”

“I’m tired, Leah.”

“Come on. This will likely be the last one of the season.”

“How are you going?”

Leah glanced at Dat.

“Our horse and buggy?”

Dat frowned, then shook his head.

“Battery’s dead.”

“Our buggy battery is always dead. You never put it on the charger.”

“I don’t like you girls out on the dark roads with the horses. It’s not safe.”

Leah sputtered, and Sadie knew she was holding back a quick retort. She managed to ask Dat quite civilly if he had money for a driver since they weren’t allowed to have the team.

Dat shifted his weight, searched his pockets for his wallet, and mumbled something about money melting away with a houseful of teenage daughters.

Leah took the money he handed over, thanked him, and said sweetly, “You know you could keep this if you let us have Charlie and the buggy.”

“It might cost me a whole lot more than that if you had an accident.”

It was Dat’s favorite comeback, and Sadie giggled as Leah dashed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Should she go? The only reason she would was for Leah’s and Rebekah’s sakes. It would be entirely different if she had any hope that Mark Peight would be there, but she had not seen or heard anything from him since that Christmas night. She had thoroughly messed up whatever friendship they might have had at one time. But what had she done? She didn’t know. She guessed Mark was like that. He was like that band of wild horses—you could never quite figure him out.

Slowly, Sadie rose. She looked around and asked where Mam was. Dat looked up with pain, shame, indignation. What was it? It flickered in his eyes before he told Sadie Mam had gone to bed. She wasn’t feeling well.

Mam had taken to her bed quite frequently of late, but it seemed as if she could do nothing else but sit on the recliner or lie on the sofa if she was awake. Her condition was deteriorating before their eyes, little by little. The girls were learning to live with it as best they could. Mam kept up the appearance of normalcy—going to church every two weeks and doing whatever duty was asked of her, but the girls knew Mam was suffering.

Sadie pushed thoughts of Mam from her mind. Maybe she should go sledding and clear her mind.

That Leah. Dashing up the stairs with the money clutched in her hand, she hadn’t even bothered calling a driver.

When the driver finally pulled up to the door, the girls were eagerly waiting—except for Sadie, who was stifling huge yawns, trying to stay awake for the evening.

Dan Detweiler’s homestead was filled with buggies in the driveway and around the outbuildings. Boys milled about, putting their steaming horses in the barn.

The air was crisp and cold, but heavy. Every noise seemed magnified by the atmosphere which always seemed to amplify sound just before snow or rain. The stars hung low, twinkling as sharp and bright as ever, but Sadie figured storm clouds would likely cover them by morning.