Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(70)

“Oh, my, oh, my!” she kept saying over and over as she gathered Sadie into her heavy arms. “You never let on! You never let on!” she kept saying.

Sadie knew that never again in their household would they take for granted the wonders of human sympathy. It was the genuine caring—that giving of oneself—that brought so much warmth to Sadie’s heart. It was like an Olympic runner carrying the flaming torch, relaying hope from one person to the next.

How could one be crushed beneath despair when so many held them up? Rough cowhands, wealthy ranchers, plain Amish people, men of the law—they were all there, bound by the soft, gentle cord of caring. White-covered heads bobbed in conversation with permed and dyed heads, earrings twinkling beneath them, as tears flowed together.

Mam couldn’t have gone far. She’d be okay.

Was there anything they could do?

Poor lady, she must have been in agony.

Sadie could almost see her father aging before her eyes. It was hard to look at him. Remorse is a terrible thing, she had read once. It’s the hopelessness of wishing that you had not done things in the past, or that you could undo something you knew you couldn’t.

That’s where Jesus came in, Sadie thought. He died for pitiful creatures like us, people who make mistakes because of their human pride and wrongdoings.

Dear God, just stay with Dat. He didn’t do it on purpose. He thought he was doing the right thing.

And then Mark came. Mark Peight. Would she ever tire of just thinking his name?

He was in the kitchen, taller than everyone else except Richard Caldwell. He was talking to Leroy Miller who was moving his hands to accompany his fiery red curls that flew about his head with every movement. His hair was plentiful, and it looked even more so the way he shook his head when he became agitated. His beard was as red as his curls, and it wagged up and down at an alarming rate.

Sadie wished they would all go home now and leave her with Mark. She knew that was quite selfish, but she wished it anyway. Finally she was able to catch his eye and almost swooned when he conveyed all his feelings in his direct look.

“Sadie, how are you?”

She turned into the waiting arms of Nancy Grayson, the taxi driver, as Leroy Miller broke into another passionate tirade, this time to Mark.

The clock’s hands turned to ten o’clock, and still the Miller house was full of people who came to wish them well. Dat was becoming weary, his eyes drooping behind his glasses the way they did at the end of a long day. Reuben was curled up on the recliner covered with a blanket, his hands tucked beneath his cheek. He looked so young and so vulnerable, his usual tufts of hair on the back of his head sticking straight out, the way they always did when he hadn’t brushed his hair completely.

Mark moved across the kitchen to stand by Sadie’s side, being careful to keep an appropriate distance between them.

“Sadie, tell me what happened,” he said quietly.

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. It was the soft urging in his voice that showed how much he cared. She raised her eyes to his, then looked down as she saw Leroy Miller’s flinty eyes watching their every move.

“Can you come upstairs with me?” she asked.

“You go first; I’ll sneak away later,” he said quietly.

Sadie went over to Reuben and took him upstairs to his bedroom, waiting outside his door until he had his pajamas on. Reuben would never change clothes in his sister’s presence, properly locking the bathroom or bedroom door when any change of clothes or showering was necessary.

After the door was unlocked, she caught his shoulders and drew him against her. He did not pull back but laid his head against her shoulder as she held him, rocking him the way she did when he was two years old.

His hair smelled of shampoo and hay and little boy sweat and his hat. She could feel his thin shoulders shaking beneath his t-shirt as his breath caught in suppressed little sobs.

“Reuben. Listen. They’ll find Mam. In this day and age, people don’t disappear the way they used to. They have computers and video cameras and stuff we can’t even imagine to track every traveler that moves through train or bus stations.”

“But what if she’s lying outside somewhere and she’s cold?” Reuben asked, his breath catching on a sob of despair.

“Don’t think that. Don’t let yourself imagine such things. Remember to pray earnestly tonight, and God will watch over Mam and over you if you can’t sleep, okay?”

Reuben nodded, crept into his bed, and pulled the covers up to his chin.

“You want the lamp on?” Sadie asked, brushing back a lock of hair.

“Nah.”

Sadie blew out the steady, yellow flame that lit a room so cozily, then whispered, “Good-night.”

She met Mark coming down the hallway uncertainly, never having been upstairs in the Miller household. It was not uncommon for a girl’s friends to come upstairs to her bedroom on Sunday afternoons when church was over. All girls had chairs or loveseats in their bedrooms for that purpose.

Now, however, Sadie was uncertain. Should she ask Mark to come into her bedroom at a time like this? He might think her extremely bold, but where else could they go to talk about Mam?

“Is … is it all right to … go to my room?” she whispered.

“If you’re okay with it.”

She entered her room and lit the kerosene lamp with the lighter beside it, replaced the glass chimney, and turned it up to brighten the room.