Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(65)

There was an undercurrent of gossip about that Jacob Miller’s Sadie as well. That girl had better slow down. What was she doing riding a horse with that stranger from Pennsylvania? Someone told Katie Schwartz that he had been raised Amish but that his parents were English. They clucked their tongues and shook their heads, saying nothing good could come of it, that Jacob and Annie better rein in their Sadie. She almost died in that accident. Her Ezra was gone, bless his soul, and here she was gallivanting about with this other man already.

That’s what happens when someone is too pretty for her own good. Look at Aunt Lisbet. She ran off with the butcher from Clarksville, and if she hadn’t been so pretty, it likely never would have happened. But then, her mother hadn’t been very stable either so…

Mary Miller shrugged her shoulders and said Jacob Miller didn’t look like himself these days. Someone mentioned Annie wasn’t doing so well, but she looked all right to her.

They watched Annie as she brought more pies to the table, lowered them, then stooped to talk to little Clara Amstutz, patting her head and smiling so nicely. Nothing much wrong with her.

Sadie stood against the counter in the kessle-haus and listened halfheartedly as Lydiann and Leah talked endlessly about the wild horses. She was hungry, tired of the restless chatter, and wished those fussy older women would hurry up and eat so they could have their turn.

She skipped breakfast that morning, having overslept. She had tried to pull off looking tired and grouchy, although inside she was anything but that. She had lain awake, giddy with the thought of Mark Peight coming to see her. But her giddiness turned to concern when she thought of all the things that could go wrong between them.

What did he want to tell her? Was it something so terrible that there was no possible way they could begin dating, let alone get married?

She had slid out of bed, wrapped her warm robe around her, then stood at the window looking out over the snowy landscape with the stars scattered all over the night sky and prayed.

She always prayed at her window, standing. She knew the proper way was to kneel beside her bed and clasp her hands, but somehow she couldn’t find God in the way she could when she stood by her window and saw the night sky, the stars, the whole wide world. She imagined God was just beyond those twinkling little lights, and he could see her from up there where he was. And so she prayed.

She asked God to direct her heart and to help her remain a sacrifice so she could discern his will for her life. She already knew without a doubt that she wanted Mark Peight for her husband someday. She wanted to be with him, listen to him talk, watch his deep, brown eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughed. She had been amazed at the depth of her own emotions the first time they met, but she had tried to hold him at a distance. She had felt good when she was in his presence. He had been so kind, so sincere, and that was something.

She would have married Ezra. She had planned on dating him. But God took him away. There was still a special part of her heart that was Ezra’s, but there was another part—a bigger part—that belonged to Mark.

She ended her prayer.

Thank you, God, for Mark.

She had let the curtains fall, but caught them again when she saw a dark form moving slowly down the driveway. Surely it wasn’t Mam on a frigid night like this?

The dark form continued forward, the head bent. Yes, it was Mam. Should she get dressed and go to her?

Sadie’s heart beat rapidly as she struggled to suppress her fear of the unknown, wondering why Mam would roam the roads alone at night. Was she so troubled in her spirit that the freedom of the outdoors soothed her?

Sadie had remained by the window, watching until her mother returned, still plodding quietly, head still bent.

It was a pitiful sight. Love for her mother welled up in Sadie’s heart like the fizz from a glass of soda. Dear Mam. She had always been the best Mam in the world. It was just now … she was only a silent shadow. She went about doing mundane little tasks, but the bulk of the work fell on the girls’ shoulders.

Sadie breathed a sigh of relief when the laundry room door creaked quietly, and she could be sure Mam had safely returned.

At work on Monday morning, Sadie divulged her plans for Saturday evening. Dorothy’s spirits soared.

“You got a honest-to-goodness date?” she yelled above the high, insistent whine of the hand-held mixer.

Sadie glanced at her happily. Dorothy clicked it off and tapped the beater against the bowl, streams of frothy egg running off.

“Well, do ya or don’t cha?”

“Yes, I do. He’s coming to our house,” Sadie answered as she sliced oranges, popping a section into her mouth.

“Well, what are you gonna do? You don’t have a television set to watch an’ you can’t go to the movies. So how are ya gonna entertain this young man?”

Sadie smiled.

“First, I have to think of some kind of brownies or bars or cookies to make. I have to have a snack, of course.”

Dorothy’s eyes lit up, her smile wide.

“I can sure help you out on that one!”

Dorothy turned to her eggs, poured them into a greased baking pan, and then got out the vicious looking chef’s knife. She held it like a professor about to begin a lecture with his wooden pointer.

Sadie raised her eyebrows.

“We played Parcheesi!”

“What?”

“Parcheesi! It’s the most fun game ya ever saw. I’ll bring my game of Parcheesi, and you and yer feller can play. Aw, that’s so sweet. Just like me and Jim. Now my Jim, he’s different from other rough cowboys. He’s a good man, my Jim. If he wasn’t so stuck on riding those horses and working at this ranch, we’d have more money. But then, ya know, Sadie, he wouldn’t be happy, an’ what’s money compared to being a purely contented soul? Huh? Tell me that. The whole world is moving faster and faster and faster tryin’ to make more money, and it ain’t bringin’ nobody no happiness. Jes’ look at my Jim settin’ on the back of a horse, his chaw stuck in his cheek, and his old hat covering his bald head. Why he’s happier ’n a coon in a fish pond. An’ me? I like it right here in Richard Caldwell’s kitchen cookin’ up a storm.”