Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(84)

“I know, Mam. It’s lovely.”

Reuben was telling everyone to hide, to either sit down or lie down and hold very, very still. Dat said he’d be glad to oblige, sinking wearily onto the carpet of grass and flowers.

“Do the horses always come when you’re here?” Rebekah asked.

“Not always. But more and more it’s a usual thing to see them.”

Reuben distributed the feed. The wind sighed in the pines. The family whispered among themselves. Anna became extremely restless, making faces and gesticulating silently, asking Sadie, “How long?”

Sadie shrugged her shoulders, biting nervously on her lower lip.

Come on, Paris, she thought.

She watched the tree line carefully for the moving shadows that turned into real horses. This was the expectant moment when she always held her breath, unable to grasp the fact that they had come one more time to eat the feed she had brought. The miracle was new each time.

The horses did not disappoint her.

Sadie’s body tensed as she heard them moving through the trees. She held up one finger to quiet everyone, then pointed.

Paris was first, as usual.

She stepped out, her ears pricked forward, and nickered softly. Sadie stood in a swift, quiet movement, then proceeded forward, holding one hand out, palm upward. She spoke softly in Pennsylvania Dutch, saying the same words of endearment over and over.

Paris stretched her beautiful neck, her head lowered. Sadie’s hand touched her nose, a movement as natural as the world around them. As sure as an apple falls from the tree at harvesttime, Sadie’s hand caressed first the nose and then the neck of the honey-colored horse. She combed the unruly mane with her fingertips and removed burrs. She ran her hands along the rough coat where the winter hair still clung, stubbornly refusing to allow the honey color of the new, sleek growth to shine through.

“If only I had a comb and brush,” she told Paris. “You need a bath in the creek with my Pantene shampoo,” she chuckled.

She bent to lay her cheek against the horse’s head, and Paris stayed completely still. They stood together, a bright picture against the backdrop of trees while Sadie’s family watched in amazement. There were tears in Mam’s eyes as she sought Dat’s face. Dat looked at her, then smiled and shook his head. Reuben saw the look pass between them and was glad.

The brown mare stepped out then and walked easily over to Sadie who began talking to her, caressing her face and combing the mane with her fingertips, as she had done with Paris.

When the huge black walked hesitantly out behind the brown mare, Dat gasped. Mam looked at him questioningly. “Jacob, should we…?”

Dat shook his head.

Rebekah moved as if to stop Sadie, but Reuben held her back. “Let her go. She’s okay. Watch.”

Sadie appeared to ignore the black horse, but she kept him in her sight out of the corners of her eyes. He snorted, pawed the grass, tossed his head, and flicked his ears. He walked then, slowly and with a stiff gait, as if too proud to be beholden to anyone. He grabbed a mouthful of the feed hungrily. Then another.

The brown mare walked over, bent her head, and eagerly crunched an apple.

Slowly, Sadie reached out a hand to the black. He lifted his head, his nostrils flared, and his ears pricked steadily forward.

His coat was a mess, Sadie noted.

“Come here, boy. Come. Let me touch you. You were once used to it. Sei brauf. Sei brauf.”

Sadie kept one hand beneath Paris’ chin, the other stretched out to the black. Talking quietly, she closed the gap between them until, like a feather drifting on a newly mowed field, she felt the soft dryness of the stallion’s nose on her hand. He snorted and she removed her hand, but she did not move away.

Oh, the wonder of it!

The fearsome creature, the black phantom of the night that had created horrible dreams after Ezra’s death, the snow, the pain—all of it gone. Here he was, standing in the golden light of the evening sun, and, in a different light, he was a different creature. There was nothing to be frightened about now.

Or was there?

She looked into the black’s eyes so far above her head. He was huge. There were no whites of his eyes showing, but she could sense the wariness, the ability to whirl away and be gone in a few seconds.

Slowly she moved her hand up from his nose, stroking the long, broad face like a whisper. The hairs in his forelock were stuck together in a hopeless tangle of burrs, bits of leaves, and twigs, but they would have to remain there for now. No use pushing her luck. She had used up more than her fair share today.

When she turned to go, Paris followed her. Sadie’s laughter rang out across the field, a sound of pure and unrestrained joy.

“Paris!”

The flowers nodded and sang “Paris!” with her. The clouds rolled and danced in jubilation. The trees joined in the symphony, bowed their heads for an encore, and sang “Paris!” in response. Sadie’s heart overflowed with love, and she turned and threw her arms around Paris’ neck, hugging her as tightly as possible.

“I have to let you go now. But I’m going to ride you yet. You watch, Paris. I will. Be good now until I come back.”

When she joined her family on the trek down the hillside, she looked back and found Paris watching after her, her head lowered as if preparing to step down and follow her home if asked.

She asked Dat why she couldn’t take Paris along home right then. Dat gave her the same wise answer Richard Caldwell had. Until they knew whose horses they were, it was best to let them roam wild.