Wild Horses

by Linda Byler

  Sadie had spent a few sleepless nights mulling over the subject. She read everything she could get her hands on. She even asked a friend, Marta Clancy, the owner of the small drugstore in town, to print information from her computer at home.

  Old myths about “mind bother,” suicide, and other unexplainable troubles were like a wedge in Sadie’s mind. Prescription drugs probably wouldn’t make a difference if it was a spiritual problem, so it had to be a chemical imbalance. So what unbalanced the chemicals? And round and round went Sadie’s troubled thoughts and her frustrations.

  She could never fully settle the matter within herself, so she decided it was not something she could figure out on her own. She would have to let all that up to the Almighty God who created human beings and knew everything, right up to each tiny molecule and cell and atom.

  But why must we live this way?

  Mam could be so normal. When Sadie was hurt and Mam forgot herself, thinking only of Sadie, she almost seemed like the Mam of old. But now that Sadie was recuperating, Mam was worse than ever, and this morning it was annoying.

  Sadie ricocheted off walls of impatience, battling to keep her voice low and well-modulated. She felt like shaking some sense into Mam, then quickly realized how hard and uncaring she was being. Mental illness, depression, whatever you called it, was like a leech. It just sucked the vitality out of your life.

  It was almost Christmas, and Sadie was determined to make it as normal as possible, especially for Reuben. But always, always, Mam and her condition were in the background.

  Ignoring Mam, Sadie turned to Leah.

  “Okay, Miss Leah. ‘Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat…’”

  Rebekah chimed in, and they sang together.

  “‘Please put a penny in the old man’s hat.’”

  Sadie glanced at Mam, who was smiling.

  “It is Christmas, isn’t it?” she said, her voice like gravel.

  “What’s wrong with your voice, Mam? Does your throat hurt?” Sadie asked, concerned about the roughness, the rawness in her mother’s words.

  “A bit, yes. I should have dressed warmer last night. I was out walking.” She shook her head from side to side. “I just wish I could get a good night’s sleep. Maybe the voices in my head would stop.”

  Rebekah turned, stood by her mother, and said gently, “Mam, won’t you go to a doctor if we take you? Dat doesn’t need to know. The doctor could give you a correct diagnosis, give you the proper medication, and soon you would feel so much better.”

  “No! Drugs are bad for us!”

  She turned her back, opened the cupboard door, and proceeded to take down the many bottles of vitamins and minerals she so urgently depended on. She insisted they were what sustained her.

  A determination, a sort of desperation, expanded in Sadie’s chest.

  All right. If this was how it was going to be, then they would rise above it. Like a hot air balloon in a cloudless sky, they would soar. They would have Christmas, and they would have a good Christmas in spite of the many obstacles set in their way. There was the accident, the thousands of dollars in hospital and medical bills that needed to be paid, and Mam’s ever-worsening condition, but no matter, they would figure out a way to have a happy Christmas.

  “Rebekah, let’s make a list of gifts we want to buy. Then we can talk to Dat and arrange to go shopping today. We’ll see how much money we can have, then shop accordingly, okay?

  “Sure thing,” Rebekah chirped, sliding down the bench toward her.

  “First, Reuben and Anna.”

  Immediately, they were faced with a huge decision. Reuben was 10 years old. He was too old for most toys and too young for serious guns and hunting things. He had a bike, two BB guns, and a pellet gun, but no hunting knives.

  “Not a knife,” Sadie said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Anna was mixing Nesquik into scalding hot milk, adding a teaspoon of sugar and a handful of miniature marshmallows. She stirred, sipped, and lifted her shoulders, a smile of pleasure lighting her young face.

  “Taste this, Rebekah!”

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s so good I’m going to make a cup for each of you after mine is all gone,” she said, grinning cheekily.

  “Anna, what can we get Reuben for Christmas?” Sadie asked, toying with the crust of her toast.

  “A puppy.”

  “We can’t. Mam and Dat will never let us get another dog.”

  “He wants a puppy.”

  Sadie wrote “puppy” on the list, dutifully.

  “What else?”

  “A football and a new baseball bat.”

  Sadie bent her head and wrote it down.

  Leah helped, and with Rebekah’s common sense, they had a list that was actually attainable. After checking the money they could use, which was, in fact, a decent amount, the idea of Christmas settled over them like a warm, fuzzy blanket, comforting and joyous, the way Christmas had always been.

  “Hot chocolate’s ready!” Anna called.

  “You better let up on the hot chocolate-making, Anna. We’re going shopping at the mall!”

  Anna squealed and jumped up and down, rattling the cups on the counter.

  “The mall? The real mall?”

  “Yes! Let’s all wear the same color… Something Christmasy!”

  “We have to push Gramma Sadie on her wheelchair!”

  “Let’s rent a wagon—make her sit on the wagon!”

  “Let’s do!”

  Mam watched the girls’ joy, then turned her head, sighing. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way.

  Chapter 13

  REBEKAH STOMPED IN FROM the phone shanty after calling a driver, her eyes sparkling. Leah washed dishes and Sadie watched. She longed to go to the barn to see Nevaeh and talk to him, but she knew it was best to remain in the house. The upcoming trip to the mall would be about all she could handle.

  There was a general hubbub of activity as each one returned upstairs to shower, dress, and comb her hair. The ironing board was set up in front of the gas stove, a sad iron heating on the round, blue flame. Last minute ironing of coverings was always a necessary part of the routine.

  After she was ready, Sadie sat on her chair and watched her mother. She was lying on the recliner, hair uncombed, no covering, her face turned to the wall. Mam’s breathing was even and regular—she was so relaxed, she seemed to be asleep. Sadie decided to try again, just one more time.

  “Mam?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You sure you don’t want to come with us? You know how much you enjoy Christmas shopping.”

  “We don’t have any money.”

  “Now, Mam, you know that’s not true.”

  Mam sat up very suddenly, her face a mask of anger and despair.

  “It is true. Can you even imagine how much your hospital bill was? And there you go, traipsing off to the mall to spend money on Christmas gifts that should be used to pay that bill. And then there’s that useless horse standing idle in the barn, eating up our hay and feed—but no, you don’t think about things like that. You’re all wrapped up in yourself and your own broken foot, and everyone pities you because poor Ezra died.”

  Sadie was stunned, speechless. Never had she heard her mother speak with such anger.

  “Mam, won’t you please see a doctor? You are not well. You would never have spoken like this before. We’ll even put off the shopping trip to take you.”

  But Mam had turned her face to the wall and would not respond no matter how Sadie pleaded. It was like rolling a large rock uphill. You couldn’t do it. You budged it an inch, and it always rolled back.

  Mam had become so much worse since the accident. Her rapid decline was especially evident to Sadie, who spent most of her time in the house with Mam. She no longer did her small duties, like washing the dishes, dusting, even reading her Bible in the morning. The largest part of her days was spent lying on the recliner, her face turned to the wall.
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br />   Even her thought patterns had changed. She became obsessed with one subject at a time. The amount of money they owed the hospital weighed heavily on her, as did the cost of feeding Nevaeh. She seemed to resent the black and white horse, of this Sadie was quite certain.

  She sighed and looked out across the snowy landscape as the other girls came rushing down the stairs.

  Clattering! Sadie thought. What a bunch of noisemakers!

  “Driver’s here! He’s coming up the lane!” Anna yelled.

  “Where’s my coat?”

  “Did someone see my big leather purse with the two handles?”

  “I can hardly keep track of my own purse in this house, let alone yours,” Sadie said laughing.

  “’Bye, Mam!”

  “’Bye!”

  And they were out the door, Sadie hobbling along on her crutches, the girls helping her into the 15-passenger van.

  Most people who drove the Amish owned a large van so a group of them could travel together. They divided the cost among themselves, which made for cheaper fare, even if they needed to exercise patience while making stops for the other passengers. The cost of traveling was roughly a dollar per mile, so they usually planned to go to town together.

  Today, however, was Christmas shopping, a special treat that required no other passengers. They knew the driver, John Arnold, a retired farmer, well and were at ease in his presence.

  “Good morning, my ladies!” he boomed. “How’s Sadie coming along?”

  “I’m doing much better, thank you!” Sadie answered, although she already felt a bit lightheaded after swinging between the crutches.

  “So where we going?”

  “To the mall in Critchfield!” they echoed as one.

  John Arnold grinned, put the van in gear, and said, “Waiting time is $20 an hour!”

  And they were off, down the winding drive and along country roads until they came to the state road leading to the populated town of Critchfield. Traffic was heavy this close to the holidays. The occupants of cars looked a bit harassed as they waited at red lights, made U-turns, and tried passing just to arrive a minute before anyone else on the road.

  At the mall, a huge low-lying structure made of steel and bricks, the vast parking lot was filled with vehicles of every shape and size imaginable. Christmas music already filled their ears as the girls hopped out of the van.

  “How long?” John Arnold asked. “All day till ten tonight?”

  “No-o!” the girls chorused.

  “’Til four or five?” Rebekah asked.

  “Sounds good. I’ll be back around four.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Take care of your cripple here,” he called.

  The girls waved, the van moved slowly out of the parking lot, and they were on their own. What a wonderful feeling to be free and able to browse the stores completely at ease, spending all these hours Christmas shopping!

  “Listen to that song!”

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful it gives me goose bumps!”

  “I love, love, love to go Christmas shopping!”

  “One love would have been enough! We get the point!”

  Laughing, they entered the huge glass doors of the mall. Immediately, they were surrounded by sights and sounds that took their breaths away—bright electric lights, Christmas decorations, beautiful music wafting in the air, real Christmas trees lit with brilliant, multi-colored lights. The wonder of the season, coupled with the achingly beautiful music in the air, brought unexpected tears to Sadie’s eyes.

  Christmas music did that to you, especially the instrumental music the Amish were not accustomed to. It elicited emotions of pure joy, lifted your spirits, and elevated you in almost every way. It was enough to bring forth thanks, a gratitude as beautiful as new-fallen snow, for the wondrous gift of the baby Jesus. He was born so humble and poor, wrapped only in swaddling cloths, which Mam told them was a type of long diaper that served as clothing as well.

  God was, indeed, very good.

  Ezra’s death was still painful, but it was accepted now, unquestioningly, in the way of the Amish. There was a reason for his death, and they bowed to God’s will. So be it. Heartaches were borne stoically without complaint, as was the heartache of Mam’s illness.

  Dear, dear Mam, Sadie thought. Her heart filled with love as she listened to the swelling strains of the Christmas songs.

  I wish you could be here with us and have your poor, battered spirits revived again.

  With Reuben in mind, they entered a sports store and had too much fun dashing here to this gigantic display of skateboards, then there to the tower of footballs, then back again to the baseball section. Their red and green dresses swirled, faces flushed, voices chattered—brilliant birds with white coverings.

  They chose an expensive football for Reuben. They discussed at length the merits of a skateboard, but decided against it, opting for a new set of ping-pong paddles to go with the football. Reuben had acquired a mean serve, Anna informed them, shaking her head with wisdom beyond her years.

  Next stop was JC Penney where the girls oohed and aahed, fussing in Pennsylvania Dutch—the Ohio version, where they rolled their “r’s” into a soft “burr.” Giggling, they loaded up with a new sheet set in beautiful blue for Mam and good, heavy Egyptian cotton towels for their bathroom in blue and navy. They were sure this would please their mother.

  They found a package of good, warm socks for Dat and two soft chamois shirts, one in dark brown and another one in forest green.

  “Who’s going to volunteer?” Rebekah asked slyly.

  “Volunteer for what?”

  “You know, remove these pockets.”

  Sadie groaned from her perch on the rented wheelchair.

  “Probably me, since I sit here all the time.”

  “Why don’t Amish men wear pockets on their shirts?” Anna asked.

  “Dunno!”

  “Some people just sew them shut.”

  “Not at Dat’s age. The older men should be an example to the younger ones, so we need to take off these flaps over the pockets for sure.”

  “‘We?’ You mean, me!” Sadie said.

  “Why do we have an Ordnung?” Rebekah asked. “The English people dress any way they want, and we have to sit with a razor blade and remove a stupid old pocket from a perfectly nice shirt.”

  “Rebekah! That is so disrespectful,” Leah scolded, crossing off Dat’s name on their list.

  “The Ordnung is like anyone else’s rules. The world has rules, too, and police officers enforce them. Our rules are according to Biblical principles—about dressing modestly and being old-fashioned in thoughts and attitudes. I would never want to be anywhere else but right here in the Amish church in Montana. I love our way of life,” Sadie said.

  “I know. I was just having a fleeting ‘rebel moment,’” Rebekah said.

  “We all have them, especially at a mall,” Leah assured her, draping an arm across Rebekah’s shoulders.

  “Wonder what we’d look like in jeans and t-shirts, our hair done, makeup, the whole works!” Anna piped up.

  “No!” Leah gasped.

  “Want to?” Rebekah asked, laughing.

  They all laughed together, knowing it was not a priority. It was a subject to wonder about but certainly not one that brought any amount of genuine longing. It was simply not their way.

  They paid for their purchases and, with shopping bags in hand, began the long walk through the rest of the mall.

  Sadie announced that she needed to go to the ladies’ room, assuring everyone she would be fine on her own and that she’d find them later. Leah voiced her concern, but Sadie told her no, she was perfectly capable, and besides, she wanted to buy a few things for them, too.

  As she wheeled herself down the wide center of the mall, her heart beat rapidly, and she slowed down.

  What a weakling, she thought. I am just not worth two cents since this accident. I suppose it will take many more days of being patient
, but it drives me crazy.

  On the way back from the restroom, Sadie spied an Orange Julius booth. The frothy orange drink would definitely give her a shot of much needed energy. Besides, it was a drink she loved, having sampled it only a few times before.

  She wheeled over, then hoisted herself up to order her drink, carefully settling her weight on one foot. When she had her drink, she turned to sit down again, but her wheelchair was gone!

  Her eyes grew large with anxiety. She gripped her drink, then turned carefully, hopping on one foot, wincing as pain shot through her calf.

  Where was her wheelchair? Who would take it? Maybe her sisters had found her and grabbed it to tease her.

  Looking around, she saw a young boy pushing it around and around a display of calendars in the middle of the hall.

  Where in the world is his mother? He could use a few lessons in proper behavior.

  Perhaps if she yelled. But no, that would cause too much attention.

  People streamed past her, no one really noticing her dilemma. They were all too intent on their own destination. An elderly lady, bent at the waist, smiled sweetly but went on her slow way. She thought of asking the server at the Orange Julius booth to dial the mall office when she heard someone say, “In trouble again?”

  Irritated, she looked up and into the deep, brown eyes of Mark Peight.

  He was watching her, eyes shining, causing her immediate discomfort.

  She shook her head.

  “No.”

  He pointed his chin toward her foot.

  “No?”

  “Well, I … was in a rented wheelchair. This kid took off with it!”

  “No crutches?”

  She shook her head, and as she did so, the floor tilted at a crazy angle, and she gasped, reaching out with one hand toward Mark—toward anything or anyone to hold on to.

  Instantly, he grabbed her arm.

  “Are you…?”

  She shook her head, swaying. Instantly, his strong arm moved around her waist, supporting her.