Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(77)

She was finished eating and was piling some soiled dishes in a large bowl when someone tapped her elbow. Turning, she found herself face to face with the visiting minister. He smiled at her, and Sadie put down the bowl of soiled dishes to shake his proffered hand.

“Are you one of Jacob Miller’s daughters?” he asked, his eyes alight with genuine curiosity.

“Yes. I am.”

“Well, we’re from Abbottstown, Pennsylvania. We had a young man come to our community not too long ago—four, five weeks, maybe. We, and the other two families we’re traveling with, got to talking about our planned trip to Montana, and he said he was out here on vacation not too long ago. I don’t remember his name. Melvin something, I think.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows, “Melvin?”

“Yes. He talked of Jacob Millers. That’s your dat, right?”

“Yes.”

“Something about wild horses you had running around out here.”

Sadie nodded.

“You can’t think of Melvin’s last name, can you?” he asked.

“No, I’m sorry. So many young men come and go that we often lose track of who they are and how long they stay,” Sadie answered politely.

“Yes, it would appear so. Well, I sure wish I could think of this young man’s name. It wasn’t Peachy, but…”

He paused. “Anyway, it was nice talking to you.”

He wandered off, and Sadie shook her head ruefully.

Whatever, she thought, a bit irritated. Everyone wanted to know who you were, especially people on vacation checking out these Montana-ians.

They all think we’re a bit odd to live so far away from our home settlement, but they’re much too polite to say so, she thought, then chided herself for thinking like an old hermit.

The buggy ride home was a pure joy with the side windows flung open and the back canvas flap rolled up and secured with leather straps. Sadie hung her arm out the back, whistling lightly under her breath. Reuben was close beside her and Anna on his other side. Leah and Rebekah had gone home with Verna and Magdalena Amstutz, two of their favorite friends.

Reuben shifted his weight toward Sadie, folded his arms across his chest, and mumbled to himself.

“What?” Sadie asked, grabbing his ear and pulling him over.

He yanked his head away.

“I can’t see why you couldn’t have gone with Leah and Rebekah.

“Because…” Sadie said, pausing to purse her lips importantly, “I have better things to do.”

“Like what? It’s not like you have a boyfriend the way normal girls do.”

“Normal? I’m normal,” Sadie said, her eyes dancing.

“No, you’re not. You’re a queer duck!”

Sadie howled with laughter, an unladylike squawk of pure humor that made Dat turn around in his seat to see what was so funny. Mam chuckled, Anna grinned, and Reuben scowled, looking straight ahead.

The driving horse, good old dependable Charlie, plodded on through the lovely Montana landscape, the harness flapping rhythmically on his well-padded haunches. Some of the hair beneath the britching strap was darker in color, showing signs of moisture.

“Dat, Charlie’s sweating already. He’s getting fat. You feed him too much grain,” Sadie said.

“Well, if Charlie’s sweating, get out and walk!” Reuben said forcefully.

“All right, I will. It’s a bee-you-tiful day. Walk with me, Reuben.”

“No!”

“Yes! Come on. We only have two or three miles.”

“Not me. No way!” Anna said, shaking her head.

“Dat, stop. Let me off. Come on, Reuben, you little chicken.”

The buggy stopped, and Sadie looked back over the way they had come to make sure no one could see her less than modest exit out the back window of the buggy. She quickly scrambled out and over the springs along the back. When her foot hit the road, she pulled on Reuben’s sleeve and begged him one more time to accompany her. To her great surprise, he piled out of the back and onto the road beside her.

Perfect!

With a crunch of steel wheels on gravel and Dat’s “Hup!” the buggy moved off. Sadie wasted no time coming straight to the point. Breathlessly she told Reuben what she meant by saying she had better things to do.

“And, Reuben,” she concluded, “I’m running out of excuses to go on walks by myself. I honestly think Mam is getting suspicious, or at least wonders what I’m up to. If Mam and Dat find out, they will not let me do this. And that horse! I can’t tell you how beautiful she is! It’s… She’s exactly like … Paris!”

Reuben plodded on, his hands in his pockets, his hat shoved down so hard his ears looked painfully cramped. He looked less than thrilled and was still upset they had to walk so far.

“Paris? Who’s Paris?”

“You know. Don’t you remember Paris? That yellowish palomino I raced against Eva’s Spirit?”

“Eva’s spirit? That sounds spooky … like Eva had a ghost or something.”

Sadie slapped Reuben’s shoulder.

“You know which horse I mean.”

Reuben stopped, squinted, then bent down to examine the remnant of a stone. He picked it up, held it to the sun, rubbed it, and announced, “Arrowhead!”