Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(63)

“All right. Do you want up on Chester since your leg is hurting?” he asked politely.

“Chester?”

“My horse.”

It would be nice, she considered. She was wearing fleece-lined pants beneath her skirt so modesty would not be a problem. Yes, she would ride. It had been so long since she had been up on Nevaeh.

“Okay.”

He walked off, said a few words to some of the boys who were taking turns riding and flying along on the inner tube, then grabbed Chester’s reins and brought him back to Sadie.

Chester was a huge boy—built solidly and in top shape. His mane and tail glistened in the light of the fire, and his ears pricked forward intelligently as he approached her. Sadie watched his soft, brown eyes and the way he lowered his head. She forgot Mark, the youth’s calls, the bonfire—everything—as her hands went out to cradle the soft, velvety nose.

“Hi there, big boy,” she whispered.

Chester nuzzled his mouth into her mittened hands, and she stroked the side of his head over and over, murmuring softly as she did so. She told him how big and beautiful he was in a horse language all her own. The lengthy absence of Nevaeh brought a lump to her throat, and she lowered her head so Mark would not see the emotion she was feeling.

Mark stood aside, watching Sadie. He knew she missed her horse, so he stood quietly, letting her have a few moments with Chester. He listened to every whisper, marveling at her way with a horse. It was uncanny, this sincere rapport she had with these huge creatures. There was no fear, no hesitation, just this loving trust, this connection she had so naturally with each and every horse.

Finally, Mark said, “He likes you.”

“He does!”

Sadie looked up at him, completely transformed. She was laughing happily, her somber mood dispelled.

“You ready to get in the saddle?”

“I can get up by myself.”

“I know.”

He stood back, watching as Sadie gathered up the reins and slid her gloved hand along Chester’s neck beneath the mane, talking as she did so. Chester acted as meek as a lamb, which was not his usual way. He was always sidestepping and prancing and doing everything to make Mark’s leap into the saddle challenging.

Sadie stopped.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice.

Mark stepped forward, listening.

“I forgot. My foot probably won’t hold me. It’s the one I would put in the stirrup.”

“Well…” Mark began.

“I’ll walk him,” she said quickly, gathering the reins and starting off at a brisk pace.

There was nothing for Mark to do but follow.

They walked through the snow in silence except for the soft, swishing sound of snow crunching beneath their feet. The snow was silver in the starlight, though the stars were slowly being blotted out, as if an eraser was sweeping across the night sky. The air was still heavy with the approaching storm so every night sound was clear. The tree line along the ridge was almost black, the tops of the trees swaying softly as if they sighed at night when the world rested. The young people’s noise slowly faded as they walked, the light of the fire gone.

“Sadie,” Mark said, then reached for her arm to stop her.

She stopped, and Chester came to a halt behind her, his ears pricked forward.

“I said I wanted to talk to you,” he began in his low vice, the sound she loved.

“I want to apologize about Christmas evening. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sadie began, but he lifted a hand.

“No, it’s not okay. I need to be a man and tell you about my life. I would like to come see you next Saturday evening, if I may. We’ll not plan anything. I just need to have a quiet place to tell you things about me, and then you can decide whether it’s worth it for you to try … well, to get to know me better. After you hear the truth, you may not want to. Then I’ll go back to Pennsylvania.”

“But … why would you go back home to Pennsylvania?”

“Because I don’t want to live in Montana if I can’t have you.”

The music in her heart began then. It was as full and soaring as the music Barbara Caldwell listened to, taking her along to the heights of joy. It was an emotion that lifted her above the snow, the hills, the trees, and the cold. She could not speak, because if she did the music would stop. And she couldn’t bear to part with that sound.

“Sadie…”

She blinked, lifted her head, faced him.

“Yes, Mark. We’ll sit in the living room after my parents are in bed. I would be glad to hear what you…” She broke off, watching Chester.

His head went up, his ears forward and turned slightly toward the tree line. Mark stiffened, watching. An icy chill went up Sadie’s spine, and she turned her eyes, straining. Chester stood stock still. Sadie’s hand went to his neck.

“Mark?” Sadie whispered.

“Shhh.”

She felt them before she saw them. The wind picked up, there was a sense of rushing, and the ground vibrated beneath her boots with a shuffling of snow.

“Mark!”

She stifled a scream as a line of dark shadows moved along the tree line. It was as if the trees were swaying along the ground in an up and down movement in a mixture of colors and shadows, and yet there was not one horse, or even a band of horses, in sight.