Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(72)

Mam sat so bent, so hysterical. Now she was saying, “Sadie, Sadie.”

“Which one is Sadie?”

The little man with the bald head and black mustache reached for her, escorted her toward her mother.

Blindly, Mam reached for Sadie’s hand.

Sadie fought back panic for a moment. This is your mother. Relax. She’s just sick. She’s not wild or dangerous. Just help her. Listen to her.

“Sadie, Sadie.” It was all Mam could say, over and over.

Sadie bent her head to hear the garbled words. She tried to still her mother’s restless hands, then bent closer. “What?”

Mam spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“Halt aw. Halt aw. Halt um gaduld aw. Gaduld.”

The voice went on, jumbled, begging for patience.

“Ich do, Mam, Ich do.”

Then suddenly Mam lifted her head, looked at Sadie, and said in an articulate voice, “It was me that left Nevaeh out.”

She began sobbing so heartbrokenly that Sadie was on her knees immediately, holding her mother as her shoulders heaved. Murmuring brokenly now, she told Sadie that she needed help.

Sadie stood up, nodded to the doctors, and told them Mam was willing to be admitted. Dat stood beside her uncomfortably, nodding his assent.

“Oh, yes. Yes. She most certainly will be admitted. Thank God. If that is what she wants.”

Sadie nodded. Rebekah rushed to her mother. Together they guided her off the chair and into a waiting wheelchair. Dat grabbed the suitcase, and they all loaded into an elevator that clanged and pinged its way to the floor where Mam would be treated.

The doctors talked and asked so many questions that Sadie thought it must surely be morning when the last form was signed and completed. Dat turned hesitantly, not sure what he should do as they finally wheeled Mam to her room.

“Come, Dat. I think it’s time you and Rebekah and I had the largest sized coffee this hospital’s snack bar has to offer. Everything is going to be all right now. They’ll adjust Mam’s medication until they get it right, and she’ll soon be okay.”

Only now did Sadie have a chance to absorb what Mam had said about letting Nevaeh out of the barn. In this moment, Sadie felt that her beloved horse was a small price to pay for the stability of her mother’s mental health.





Chapter 20




SPRING CAME LATE THAT year. It was always later than Ohio springtime, but this time it was almost the end of May until the last chilly winds died away.

Sadie climbed one of the steep ridges surrounding her home. She was alone. The house was suffocating her, even with the windows open a bit at the top to allow the sweet smell of the earth to circulate about the rooms. So she decided to go for a walk.

Her breath came in short gasps, the calves of her legs ached, and she could feel the soft fabric of her robin’s-egg blue dress attach itself to her perspiring body. The sun was warmer than she thought it would be, and she realized with great joy that they could be planting the garden soon.

Another spring, another garden, and here I am alone in Montana, she thought wryly.

It was when she was alone, and especially on days like today, that she thought of Mark Peight most.

Why had he done that? For the thousandth time she asked the wind, and, like always, there was no reply.

Even with Mam hospitalized, she had planned for that special date, that awaited Saturday evening when he would open his heart and tell her his life’s story. Instead, a flat, white envelope had arrived in Friday’s mail with small, neat handwriting addressing the letter to “Miss Sadie Miller.”

Her life had not been the same since then. He had written on a yellow legal pad and minced no words in his flat, round script.

Dear Sadie,

I’m going back to Pennsylvania. I can’t write that I’m going home, because I don’t necessarily have a home. I’m just going back.

I simply can’t be with you anymore without telling you the truth about myself. I apologize to you for being a coward. I’m not good enough for you and never will be.

This is good-bye.

Mark Peight



That short letter literally rocked her world. It was as abrasive as steel wool on a smooth surface. It had hurt as badly as falling off a bike on a poorly paved road, tearing her skin into rough, raw patches. There was no way around the desolation of that letter. But she just had to give up and endure the pain without cringing or crying, which she did during the day. At night, she cried.

Who was he? Why did he run without leaving as much as an address or a phone number?

The wind had no answers. It caressed her warm face, played with the brown hair that straggled loose from her white covering, sighed in the branches of the pines, but had no answers for her as usual.

God was in nature, or so it seemed to Sadie. He spoke to her of his love when she saw twinkling stars, new wildflowers, fresh-fallen snow. Sometimes his voice in nature was soft and warm like today’s gentle breeze. Other times it was strong and powerful like in thunder and torrents of rain. But always, God was there.

She had much to be thankful for. She knew that sounded like an old cliché, an overused Amish phrase, but it was true.

She was thankful for her mother first. Dear, dear Mam. She had made an amazing comeback, but the struggle had been heartrending to watch.

After the doctors had observed, adjusted medications, and counseled, Mam finally underwent extensive thyroid surgery.