Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(83)

Most of the windows were dark, but the great window on the second story of the ranch house was a beacon of warm, yellow light.

Inside, Richard Caldwell sat at his desk. His wife, Barbara, was by his side. They were both leaning forward, staring intently at the bluish-white light from the computer. Half-eaten plates of food were on the desk, tall glasses of ice water forgotten, forming small rings of moisture on the glossy desktop.

“There!” Barbara said, pointing. “That email address might be it.”

“But we don’t know if it’s from Hill Country.”

“It could be.”

The night wore on, and finally a victorious shout came from Richard Caldwell. Barbara was exultant, embracing her husband warmly.

“You did it!”

“Looks like it!”

Then he turned, dialed quite a few digits on his desk phone, winked at Barbara, and waited for someone at the other end to pick up the phone.

“Hello?” Richard Caldwell’s voice boomed across the room. “Yes. Richard Caldwell here of Aspen East Ranch in Tacoma County.”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“I am looking for a Mr. Harold Ardwin.”

“All right, yes, sir.”

“I have a question to ask you. Are you the guy who had those horses stolen, oh, maybe about nine, 10 months ago?”

There was a long pause.

Richard Caldwell turned, raising his eyes to his wife who was leaning forward to hear the voice speaking to her husband. Her hands were clenched in anticipation, her eyes bright with interest.

“Well, is that right? Seriously? Mm-hmm.”

Another long pause.

“Well, my wife and I would like to meet with you, if it’s possible.”

“Oh, oh, you are? Well, then we’ll wait until you get back. Can you let us know what would be a good time?”

The two men exchanged a few pleasantries, they set a definite date, and Richard Caldwell carefully replaced the phone.

“They’re leaving on vacation for three weeks.”

“Awww.”

Barbara was clearly disappointed.

“It’s all right. We’ll not breathe a word to Sadie.”

“For sure.”

“Or that Dorothy and her husband!”

They sat quietly, companionably, watching the silver moon in the night sky. Barbara slipped her hand beneath Richard Caldwell’s elbow, laid her head on his massive shoulder, and sighed dreamily.

“Now we have two secrets: one to keep from Sadie and one to keep from everybody!”

“How long until we announce it?” Richard Caldwell asked, softly stroking his wife’s abundant hair.

“I’m so excited. Oh, Richard, do you think everything will be okay? At our age and all?”

“It will be. Remember, if it’s a girl, we’re naming her Sadie.”

“Of course.”

“And would to God she’d be half the girl that Sadie Miller is. What touches my … Well, I hate to sound like a softy, but she loves horses so much and has the most rotten luck I’ve ever seen. It’s just not fair.”

“But you know what they’d say, those Amish people: ‘It’s the will of God.’”

“Don’t make fun of them, Barbara.”

“Oh, Richard, I’m not. There was a time not long ago, I would have. But there has been such a great change in you that I have to believe she has brought goodness to the ranch. To us.”

“She’ll never know.”

“That is God’s way.”





Chapter 23




AND SO BEGAN ONE of the best times of Sadie’s young life.

That first week the whole family joined her and Reuben on their hike up to the wildflowers at the edge of the surrounding forest. They took a bag of pungent horse feed, three apples, a bag of carrots, and a few slices of salt off the brick that was in Charlie’s feed box.

It was a warm evening with a gentle, swirling breeze, the kind that whirls around you, going first one way and then another. It was a teasing sort of wind that pulls at your covering so that you have to adjust the straight pins at the side to keep it on.

Dat was puffing heartily by the time they were halfway up the ridge, but Mam was surprisingly agile. Her cheeks were flushed, her graying hair escaping her covering in the twirling wind, but her eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of actually seeing these fearful creatures.

Reuben behaved badly. He was clearly beside himself with anxiety. He stretched everything he told his parents about the palomino and especially about the black stallion. When Sadie gently corrected him, he became angry and pouted, falling back so far that they all had to wait for him to catch up. When Anna slowed down to walk with him, his wild stories started all over again—hands waving, eyebrows dancing at a fearful pace, blonde hair tossing in the breeze.

Dat laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “He’s excited about showing us the horses. Let him go.”

“How much farther?” asked Leah, her breath coming in gasps.

“Not far,” Sadie assured them.

When they reached the field of wildflowers, Mam threw up her hands in amazement. “Ach, my goodness, Sadie! How could you keep all of this a secret? Why, it’s absolutely himmlisch up here!”