Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(9)

“Did you call a vet?”

He straightened as he said this, then turned to look down at Sadie with eyes so brown they were almost black and fringed with the thickest, blackest lashes she had ever seen. His cheekbones were high, his nose perfect, and his mouth made her knees turn to jello, so that she lost her voice completely.

Oh, it was sinful. It was awful. She felt deeply ashamed. She also felt as incapable of changing one thing about her emotions as a seagull feather trying to change direction as it hovered on the restless waves of the ocean. Then to her horror, she felt the color rise in her face. She was sure it was noticeable to both men.

Sadie adjusted her head scarf, lowered her eyes, then raised them to his, summoning all her courage to keep his gaze.

“I…”

She was so flustered she couldn’t speak, so she brushed miserably at a stray lock of hair before lifting her eyes again.

Then he smiled.

Oh, he smiled the most wonderful smile. His white teeth turned her knees straight back into the shakiest sort of jello—the kind you got out of the refrigerator before it was fully set, and which Dat laughingly dubbed “nervous pudding.”

“I guess you don’t have a cell phone, seeing you’re Amish and all.”

Sadie shook her head.

There was a whooshing, snorting sort of sound. Mark whirled, the heavy-set man exclaimed, and a soft cry escaped Sadie’s lips. They all turned, but Sadie was the first one to reach the horse’s head. She knelt in the snow murmuring, running her hands along the smooth planes of his face. There was another whooshing sound, and he tried to raise his head before letting it fall back weakly.

“Let’s get him up.”

Sadie looked up, questioningly.

“How?”

Mark didn’t answer. He just kept looking at Sadie with the strangest expression in his eyes, almost as if he was about to cry. Sort of. Not really, though. More like his eyes softened, and he caught his breath before she asked the same question.

“How?”

“Just… Okay, Fred. You help lift his hind end. You…,” His eyes questioned her.

“Sadie.”

“Okay, Sadie. You stay at his head. Keep talking. Are you used to horses?”

“I live here. Yes.”

“Here we go.”

The horse was black and white with black lashes circling deep blue eyes, now filled with a strange sort of despair and terror. His eyes opened wider, and he lifted his head again, making soft grunting sounds as he reached forward, trying to get his hooves beneath him.

“Come on, sweetie pie. Come on, you can do it.”

Sadie was completely unaware of the fact that she was speaking in her accustomed Pennsylvania Dutch dialect.

“Doo kannsht. Komm on. Komm. Vidda. Vidda.”

Mark lifted at the shoulders, urging, pushing. Fred lifted, strained, and fussed as his face grew more and more red. Sadie watched as the horse lay back down, completely at the end of his strength. She shuddered as he laid his head down in the snow and closed his beautiful eyes.

Sadie forgot her shyness, her thoughts focused only on this horse and the fact that she wanted him to live. She had always wanted a paint. Maybe, just maybe, she could have this one if she could get him to survive.

“If we just let him lie down, he’s going to die!”

“Whose horse is he?” Fred asked.

“I have no clue.”

“I don’t know if he’s gonna make it,” Fred announced.

“Well, we can’t just stand here and let him die,” Sadie said, her voice conveying her desperation.

“We need a vet.”

Mark said this bluntly but quite meaningfully. It was just a fact and had to be carried out.

Fred got out his cell phone and, with nimble fingers for a man his size, called one of the local veterinarians. Then he snapped his phone shut and, grumbling, returned to the truck.

Mark put his hands in his pockets, turned to Sadie, and was about to speak, when a vehicle came rattling from the opposite direction. It was Jim, pushing the old truck to the limit.

He slowed, rolled down the window, and yelled to Sadie.

“Get in.”

Sadie’s eyes opened wide.

“The boss is all up in the air. Bunch o’ extra men and not enough help in the kitchen. Said I’m supposed to get you down there straightaway and let this bag of bones die. Probably some diseased old mustang from out on the range.”

He swung his grizzled head.

“Get in.”

A lump rose in Sadie’s throat. She wanted to stay so badly, just like when she was a little girl and had to leave the playground because the bell rang just when it was her turn to go down the slide.

“Jim, please. I can’t go and leave this horse.”

“You better if you want your job.”

Her shoulders slumped dejectedly, her upbringing stirring her conscience. She knew her family needed the weekly paycheck she brought home from Aspen East, but she couldn’t walk away from this horse either. Indecision made her feet falter, until she turned back to the horse without thinking. Quickly, anything, please, please, please let’s do something for this horse.

“I…I don’t know who you are and I may be asking too much, but if this horse survives, would you let me know? We’re Amish, so you’ll have to leave a message on our phone, but… Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a pen and paper?”