Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(92)
Cody was chomping at the bit, tossing her head, waiting for the signal to run. Sadie told Reuben to hold her back. They had a long ride ahead of them, and there was no use working the horses into a lather so soon.
They turned right on to a county road, holding their horses at a brisk walk. The wind carried the same sighing note Sadie never tired of, and meadowlarks flew up and whirred away on busy, brown wings. The side of the road was dotted with small, pink bitterroot, which grew rampantly. It always added a touch of color, as if an artist had painted the deep pink when the picture was completed, simply to add interest.
Sadie’s dress was a deep blue, though worn and a bit snug. She admitted this grudgingly. Too many days of healing that busted leg, she knew. Too many days sitting around the kitchen table with freshly baked cookies and cups of steaming coffee, laughing and talking and unaware of the amount of cookies she was consuming.
Her brown hair pulled loose from her covering and she tugged at it impatiently. She should have worn a dichly, but Mam would never allow it when she was in public and going to do business with a stranger.
They rounded a bend in the road, then began the climb up the lower hills of Sloam’s Ridge. The pines sighed in the breeze, making Sadie’s heart dip with the sadness of it.
Would the memories always raise their heads, crying for attention like a child craving to be remembered and noticed? It was never easy crossing this ridge in a buggy or a vehicle. Riding on horseback in the open air made it all even more memorable than before.
Even Reuben rode somberly, his head bent slightly, the back of his neck exposed between his hair and brown shirt collar. Cody swished her tail, flailing at unseen flies, walking steadily while Paris followed, their heads bobbing in unison.
Sadie tried not to look down the side of the steep embankment, turning her head to watch the pines on the opposite side of the road, following Reuben as Cody made her way carefully down the other side.
Sadie loved riding and being suspended above the ground, her feet solidly encased in stirrups. It was a support she could trust. She loved the creaking of the leather, the rocking gait of a horse moving along, the thick mane moving in that peculiar rhythm—hair so heavy it moved the skin beneath it. She loved the heavy, leather reins giving her the satisfaction of being in control of the beloved horse that carried her.
They came to a crossroad, and Reuben turned to look at Sadie. “Which way?”
Sadie pursed her lips. “Hmm. Right, I think.”
“You wanna gallop?”
“We can.”
Reuben leaned forward, making the squirrelly sound he always did, and Cody leaped ahead. Paris quickly followed, eager to run. They loped along easily, content to watch the surrounding countryside and for any passing vehicles.
Sadie caught sight of a lone person on the roof of the old, weathered barn next to the Oxford place where Dat had built one of his smallest log cabins.
Who in the world would even think of patching up that old barn roof? The whole thing looked as if it could go sailing into the wild blue yonder the minute a good strong wind hit it broadside.
She watched, jumping as a piece of rusty metal went sliding down along the rafters, falling to the ground below. As they neared, she could see that the roof was being dismantled, one piece of rusted steel at a time.
Reuben watched, then slowed Cody to a walk.
“Somebody’s tearing down that barn.”
“Wonder what for?” Sadie asked.
“Think the horses will get scared next time he tears a piece of steel loose?”
“Let’s wait here a moment.”
They watched as the man on the roof pried off another piece of steel before they urged the horses on. As they passed, Sadie thought something seemed familiar. It was the set of his shoulders or the way he raised his arms.
What was it? Why did the person on the roof seem so familiar, as if she had seen him before?
He turned, noticing them, and stopped working.
Sadie recognized him at the same time he saw her, or so it seemed. At first her mind grasped it, then her heart engulfed it—this wonderful, all-consuming knowledge of who was on the roof.
Then doubt and fear tore loose, a tornado so strong she felt it suck her breath away along with her heart—out and away, never to be recovered, torn away and destroyed. She felt like a person drowning as she gasped at the sight of the man on the roof.
It was Mark Peight.
His white teeth in that dark face! His smile! She had forgotten.
Her nerveless hands pulled on the reins, willing Paris to walk as slowly as she had ever walked before. He inclined his head in a sort of bow, an acknowledgment that he knew she was Sadie Miller, that he remembered her and was glad to see her.
Reuben looked up and then back at Sadie. His eyes showed the whites the whole way around, and he was completely at a loss for even one word for once in his young life.
He stopped Cody and Paris’ nose bumped into Cody’s rump.
“Is that…who I think it is? That Mark guy?” Reuben hissed.
Sadie didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Her eyes were riveted on Mark’s. He was so far away, but there was no space between them, no time, nothing but the great shower of light that appeared from somewhere to illuminate the distance between them.
Mark raised his hand, then called, “Hang on. I’ll be down.”
Sadie tried to fix the hair that had pulled loose from her covering, but it did no good so she let it go. Her fingers weren’t working properly as it was, so she may as well not try.