Wild Horses (11 page)

“How are you, Sadie?”

Sadie’s heart sank. Ezra!

“I’m doing well, thank you. And you?”

“Fine, fine. I’m fine.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Sadie, there is a practice hymn-singing at Owen Miller’s tomorrow evening. You haven’t been attending them, and I called to inquire why.”

Sadie swallowed her annoyance.

“I … I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

None of your business, she thought, instantly on guard.

“I work full-time at the ranch now. I guess that’s most of it.”

There was a long pause.

“Well, tell me if I’m being impertinent, but I’m surprised your parents continue to allow you to work there.”

“Oh. Why is that?”

“It’s a worldly place. The way I understand it, quite a few men work for that Caldwell.”

“Yes.”

“Are you… Do you meet up with any of them? Do you work with them?”

“No. No, I work in the kitchen with Dorothy, an older English lady. Her husband, Jim, takes me to and from work.”

“I see. Is that all you do?’

“No. I clean. I keep the big house in order—or most of it.”

“I see. Do the ranch hands come in while you clean?”

“Oh, no. Never. They’re working outside.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sadie doodled on a Post-it note with a pen.

“Do you speak to Richard Caldwell or his wife?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is he trustworthy?”

“Who? Richard Caldwell?”

“Yes.”

“Certainly. He’s very kind to me now.”

“The right sort of kindness, I would hope.”

“Ezra, I…”

“Sadie, I worry about you working there. No good can come of it. You are not well-versed in the Bible, and you always did have an inclination toward rebellion.”

Anger swelled up in Sadie. How dare he speak so boldly to her. He had a few faults of his own, too. She wanted to scream at him—tell him to mind his own business—but that would never do. It would be disrespectful, and she would only have to apologize later.

Sadie took a deep breath, “I appreciate your concern, Ezra. That’s kind of you.”

“May I pick you up tomorrow evening to take you along to the practice singing?”

Sadie’s heart sank. No, no, no, she whispered silently.

“Leah, too?” she ventured, looking for a way to avoid another one-on-one date with him.

“If she wants. But it would be more appropriate if you and I went alone.”

“Why would it be more appropriate?”

“I have a question to ask you.”

Oh, help! Just say no. Say it. She did not want to ride all the way to Owen Miller’s with Ezra. It was just unthinkable.

Then she almost pitied him. He was so good and he tried so hard to do what was right—even if he didn’t always have much tact. She couldn’t bring herself to say no, imagining his pleasant, open, sincere face. Why couldn’t she go with Ezra?

“All right.”

A pleased sigh.

“Good. Oh, Sadie, we’ll have a lovely time. All the memories we share. Thank you, Sadie. Are your parents well?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Give them a hello from me.”

“I will.”

“Good-night, Sadie.”

“Good-night.”

Slowly, she replaced the receiver, then sagged against the wall.

No, Ezra, we’re not all well. Mam is going crazy and Dat is a stubborn mule. I don’t like him much. I don’t like you either. I don’t want to live the way I do—working at the ranch with no hope of a future. I want a horse I’m not allowed to have.

So I’m inclined toward rebellion, am I? Am I? Is that what’s wrong with me? Give up the horse the way good, obedient girls do and marry Ezra instead? Maybe if I learned to give up, I could learn to love Ezra.

She touched her eyebrows. She knew they were already elevated into that “holier-than-thou” Ezra attitude.

Sadie began walking toward the house. What should she do? Mam probably did not want to hear all this, and she wasn’t going to tell Dat. He’d start planning her wedding that same hour.

“Who was that?” Mam asked the minute she entered the living room. Thankfully Dat wasn’t around.

“No one.”

“Now, Sadie!” Mam chided.

“Ezra Troyer.”

“What did he want?”

“There’s a practice singing at Owen Miller’s tomorrow evening. He wants to take me.”

“Are you going with him?”

“Yes.”

“I’m surprised.”

Reuben looked up from his drawing pad. He brushed the hair out of his eyes, then said bluntly, “I thought you didn’t like Ezra?”

“You need a haircut, Reuben.”

“Mam won’t give me one.”

“Mam, don’t you think Reuben needs a haircut?”

“Yes, he does. But I’m afraid I can’t cut his hair straight. It’s hard for me to do that job right—the way it should be done, I mean. His hair is so straight, and…well, Dat said I should do it better.”

To Sadie’s horror, Mam began to cry. Not soft crying, not wiping a stray tear here or there, but huge, gulping, little-girl sobs. Sadie instantly tried to stop them by rushing over and holding her mother’s shoulders firmly, murmuring, “Don’t, Mam.
Do net
.”

Still her mother cried on.

“
Do net heila, Mam
.”

Anna and Reuben looked up. Rebekah laid down her book, coming to Mam’s side in one long, fluid movement.

“I just…feel so dumb. Things I used to enjoy are like a big mountain now. Jacob—Dat—is so terribly unhappy with me. I just don’t seem to be able to do some things I used to.”

Sadie sat on the sofa beside her mother, holding her hands.

“Mam, I think you are depressed. I think you need to see a medical doctor and let him diagnose you. They can give you something to help you cope with the worst of this.”

Mam sat up, her eyes alert, cunning even.

“You mean drugs?”

“Yes.”

“No. I won’t take medical drugs. They’re poison to my system. You know that. Dat feels very strongly about that. So do I. I am taking natural pills—building up my body—to cope with these new and strange wanderings. Sadie … my mind will be fine, won’t it?”

Sadie sighed.

“No, Mam. I don’t think it will.”

“Here comes Dat!” Mam hissed, returning to her book, the afghan thrown hastily across her lap.

Sadie turned to look as Dat hung his hat on the hook. He washed his hands, then came into the living room, surveyed it, and said, “Bedtime, Reuben.”

“I’m not done drawing this.”

“What is it?”

“Sadie’s horse.”

Dat bent to look, then he straightened, laughing uproariously.

“I doubt if Sadie’s horse looks like a giraffe!”

Reuben swallowed, attempting to keep his face a mask of indifference. Slowly he closed the drawing pad, put his pencil and eraser in the coiled springs on the side, and got to his feet.

Dat was still chuckling as Sadie rose, pulled Reuben close with one arm, and together, went up the stairs to bed.

S
ADIE WINCED AS SHE
dragged the brush through her thick, heavy mass of brown hair. Her thoughts were tumbling through her head, so the uncomfortable chore of brushing her hair was a welcome diversion.

Why had she promised Ezra she’d go? She seriously did not know. Maybe life was like that. You didn’t know why you said or did certain things, but it was all a part of God’s great and wonderful plan for your life. Maybe God’s will just happened no matter what.

Dat and Mam thought Ezra was truly a special young man who would make a terrific husband for her. But why do parents think they know better than you do? They just didn’t understand. There was not one other person in this community of Amish families for whom she could even try and summon some kind of love.

She often wished she could express her true feelings to Mam. And she wanted to ask questions, too, especially, how deep should the feelings of love be before you know you are fully committed and ready to marry? How could you know if you were ready to spend the rest of your days here on earth with this one other person?

The Amish were expected to date for a few years before getting married. They were also expected to not touch each other while dating. Not hold hands, not hug, not kiss, not have any other physical contact. The couple would be blessed by God if they entered into a sacred union in purity.

Sadie always thought that this was all well and good. But if she was really, really honest, she wondered how you could tell if you wanted to marry someone if you never touched him. What if you were pronounced man and wife and then discovered that his touch repulsed you? Wouldn’t that be a fine kettle of fish, as Daddy Keim used to say. She didn’t believe every couple stuck to that hands-off policy anyway.

Sadie clasped her hair into a barrette and firmly gathered the heavy mass on the back of her head, fastening it securely with hair pins. Her new covering followed, and she turned her head first one way and then the other, adjusting the covering more securely as she did so.

Some girls spent close to an hour arranging and rearranging their hair and coverings, which always drove Sadie to distraction. If you didn’t get it right that first or second time, you sure weren’t going to get it any better the seventh or eighth round, that was one thing sure.

She was glad she had a new dress and that it was a soft shade of light pink. She supposed it was a bit daring, but Mam had allowed it, though grudgingly. Grudgingly or gladly, it was pretty. The fabric hung in soft folds, the sleeves falling delicately to her wrists. It made her feel very feminine and, if she admitted it to herself, more attractive than usual.

She wondered vaguely how the person who was driving the buggy to take her away to the hymn-singing would feel about the dress. When she thought about it, she was glad she would wear the black coat, as Ezra would never approve of the soft, pink shade she was wearing.

Why did she wear it? She wanted to, that was why—and not for Ezra either. Maybe that was the whole reason after all. She wanted to be who she was—not who Ezra wanted her to be.

Nothing like real old-fashioned honesty with oneself, she thought wryly.

Sadie parted the white curtains in her room. Darkness had already enveloped the Montana mountainside. But the night sky was so brilliant, it seemed only a dimmer version of daylight. The starlight blended with the moon and snow to create a stark, contrasting portrait of the landscape, as if painted black, white, and gray.

Sadie watched for the lights she knew would come slowly up the driveway. Ezra was very kind to his horse.Wasn’t there an old saying—The way a man treats his horse is the way he will treat his wife.

The moon was full. It made the stars seem tiny and insignificant, like afterthoughts. Each one twinkled bravely in spite of being outdone by the moon.

The pines on the ridge seemed so dark, they were black and ominous-looking. Sadie thought they were beautiful in the sunlight, each dark bough harboring glints of light woven with deeper shadows. She loved the smell of pines, the sticky, pungent sap that seeped from their rough trunks, and the soft carpet of needles that covered the ground beneath them.

The lulling sound of the wind through pine branches was like a low, musical wonder—like a song. There was no other sound on earth quite like it. It was haunting and inspiring and filled Sadie with a deep, quiet longing for something, but she never understood what. Perhaps the song was God—his spirit sighing in the pine branches, his love for what he had created crying out and touching a chord in Sadie’s heart.

From earth we are created, and to earth we return, she thought. She supposed it was a melancholy kind of thought, but it felt comforting and protective. But the sound of wind in the pines reminded her that life is also full of unseen and unknown forces.

Down in the valley, valley so low,

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow,

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

It was an old folk song that Sadie often heard Mam humming to herself as she went about her daily chores. It was a kind of spiritual for Mam. She always said she felt the same passion her “foremothers” felt in that song. Women were like that. They heard many beautiful songs in the wind that no one else could comprehend. Subject to their husbands, women often hung their heads low. Many of them—Mam included—had to. It was just the way of it.

So, that’s what’s wrong with me. I go off wearing a light pink dress, yearning for a horse of my own, not submitting to kind, conservative Ezra because I can’t hang my head low.

Sadie caught her breath. She pushed the curtain back farther with unsteady fingers, then leaned into the windowpane. It seemed as if the pines became alive and did a kind of undulating dance, but only the lower branches.

What was that? What was running, no, merely appearing and disappearing on the opposite ridge?

Sadie strained her eyes, her nerves as taut as a guitar string.

Wolves! There were wolves in the pines. But wait. Wolves were not as big as … as whatever … that was.

Sadie gasped audibly and her hand came to her mouth to stifle a scream as the dark shadows emerged.