by Linda Byler
“All right,” Sadie said, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally.
“You know why I ain’t gonna tell you? ‘Cause you’d tell everybody else, and next thing I know, I got those animal fanatics on my tail. I got enough to worry about now. Those kids. Those two precious souls, God love ’em. I can’t imagine what’s gonna happen to ’em. The cops has all the information they could get. They fingerprinted ’em, poor babies. Just like common animals, and what did they do wrong? Not one thing. Innocent as newborn babes.”
Dorothy stopped for breath, her cheeks flaming. “I’m takin’ ’em in! I am. I told my Jim, and this is what I said. I says, ‘Now Jim, honeybun, you lookie here. We ain’t never had no children of our own ’cause the Lord didn’t see fit to give us any. I may be old and fat and half wore out, but as long as the Lord gives me the strength, I’m keepin’ these young ’uns, sure as shootin’. They’s sent straight from heaven.’”
She mopped her shining nose with the dishrag that lay beside the stove, then took a deep breath and launched into a vivid account of the room they were going to fix up for them.
Sadie buttered toast, nodded in agreement, smiling, nodding her head, whenever a question abbreviated the sentences.
“You know, pink for Marcelona. She should have pink walls, but that would never work for Louise. He needs blue or green. So what I’m going to do is paint one side of the room pink, about the color of my shirt, and the other side blue, probably about like your dress. Then… Oh Sadie!”
Dorothy clasped her hands tightly, gazing at the ceiling, pure joy stamped on her round features.
“At the Dollar Tree? In town? They have decals to paste on the ceiling that glow in the dark! They glow. I bought a package to test them before I knew about the children, mind you. Now that was straight from the Lord, too. He knew why I bought them stars. He knew! Two blessed children were coming into our lives. Me and Jim’s.”
She sighed ecstatically.
Sadie glanced uneasily at the clock.
“It’s going past eight.”
Dorothy looked, then fairly ran to the refrigerator, bouncing off the cabinets as she whirled toward the dining room.
“Lord have mercy, Sadie! Why’d you let me ramble on thataway? Git the bacon!”
Sadie never failed to marvel at Dorothy’s speed. She was such a rotund little being, her feet clad in the questionable shoes from the Dollar General Store, moving with the grace and speed of an antelope, only rounder. Barking orders, she swung the oak doors, her arms laden with heavy pans of steaming food, Sadie holding her breath more than once as she careened haphazardly between kitchen and dining room.
When everything was laid out to her satisfaction, she whizzed through the doors one last time, dumped steaming black coffee into her large mug, and flopped into a wide kitchen chair, reaching for a napkin to wipe her face.
“Whew! That was close!”
Sadie carried a plate stacked with hotcakes to the table, then went to the pantry for syrup, finally sitting across from Dorothy as she buttered the hotcakes liberally. Dorothy dumped cream into her coffee, stirred, then slurped the steaming hot liquid appreciatively.
“You better watch that butter, young lady.”
Sadie laughed.
“I’m hungry. I love pancakes, melted butter all over them.”
The door opened slowly.
Two small faces appeared, entering so timidly they seemed to slide against the wall, clearly uncomfortable in this vast kitchen so strange and unusual.
Dorothy’s mug clattered to the tabletop as she leapt to her feet.
“There you are! Did Jim bring you in the truck?”
She was on her knees in front of them, brushing back their long, thick, black hair, adjusting T-shirts, tying shoelaces, clucking and fussing like a bantam hen with new chicks.
The children nodded, their eyes round with apprehension.
“My mother is coming to get us today,” Marcellus announced, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
Louis nodded, speaking in his impeccable manner.
“She promised she would come soon. I think she will.”
“Of course, she will. She’ll be back as soon as she possibly can,” Dorothy assured them, gathering them to her ample bosom, stroking their hair, murmuring endearments.
Straightening, Dorothy told Sadie to take them to the dining room and let them fill their plates. She did as she was told, a small brown hand in each of her own, swung through the doors, and looked straight into the brown eyes of Mark Peight.
“Good morning, Sadie,” he said in his low gravely voice, the gladness in his eyes catching her unaware.
She felt the color rising in her face, lowered her eyes, and mumbled a good morning before checking the room for occupants who stared at them both. Clearly flustered, she bent to address Louis, handing the heavy white plates to the children.
Mark watched Sadie, the gladness leaving his eyes, brown turning to a very dark shade, and he turned brusquely on his heel and walked away.
“There you are!” Richard Caldwell boomed. “Come here!”
Sadie walked over to his table, after helping the children with their food and directing them to a small table along the kitchen wall.
“Good morning!”
“How are you, Sadie?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“Hey, you need to hear this. On the news this morning, there’s a story about the mysterious death of Black Thunder. Remember the horse?”
“What?” Sadie asked, incredulous.
“Yeah. Apparently, there’s a guy, or a group of guys, I don’t know, shooting horses just for the fun of it. He ain’t the only one dead. It’s the most disgusting thing. I mean, shooting a horse is just wrong. Especially a valuable one like that. His owner is heartsick. I called him this morning.”
Sadie was aghast, the color draining from her face, as Richard Caldwell explained the situation in Lorado County. Ranchers keeping their horses inside, or the cowhands guarding the corrals, no horses allowed to be in pastures, and certainly not in the open range.
Sadie listened closely, thinking of Paris, grazing happily in the large, secluded pasture with Cody, Reuben’s brown mare.
Surely the killers were not in this area. They couldn’t be.
She launched into animated conversation with Richard Caldwell, spreading her hands for emphasis, the love for her beloved horse so apparent. Richard Caldwell watched her face, the expression changing from despair to panic then sadness as she remembered Nevaeh, the black and white paint that had broken his leg when she tried to clear a high fence.
Mark Peight had filled his plate, found a place to eat at the long table crowded with cowhands, and bent to his food, before looking up and seeing Sadie talk animatedly, with Richard Caldwell watching her face so closely.
The food-laden fork went slowly into his mouth, then out as he swallowed forcefully, never taking his eyes off the two at an adjoining table.
His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared slightly as he slowly laid down his fork, color rising in his face. Putting both hands on the table’s edge, he pushed back his chair, turned on his heel, and strode past Sadie and her boss, closing the door with a resounding “thwack” as he made his decided exit.
Her first instinct was to go after him, grab his sleeve, hang on, and ask him why he left so suddenly without acknowledging her presence.
Richard Caldwell watched Sadie, saw the distraction as Mark strode past, watched her turn sideways in her chair to watch him leave. Silently he took a sip of his coffee.
Sadie was clearly agitated now, but she sighed and met Richard Caldwell’s eyes, resignation stamped all over her lovely features.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“How well do you know him?”
Sadie shrugged her shoulders, pushed her dark hair back, bit down on her lower lip, and would not look at him.
“He’s the best farrier I ever watched, and I’ve seen a bunch o
f ’em in my time. He shod Sage, that big gray brute, but ended up throwing him with the twitch to do it.”
Sadie’s eyes flamed.
“That’s just cruel. You don’t have to hurt a horse’s mouth to restrain him.”
With that, she got up, bid him a good day, and marched into the kitchen.
Richard Caldwell sipped his coffee, speculating, before a slow grin spread across his face, and he shook his head.
Sadie and Reuben went riding that evening after the dishes were washed, Paris and Cody eager to run.
They held them in, with the horses chomping down on their bits, prancing to the side, even rearing in the air, balking a bit, as if they couldn’t bear to be held back.
They went down the winding driveway and turned right, riding single file along the macadam road before coming to the field lane that turned to the high pasture along the ridge.
Sadie tightened her knees, leaned forward, and loosened the reins, grinning back at Reuben the instant Paris gathered her legs beneath her and catapulted up the lane.
There was no reason to hold them back. Just pasture grasses and wildflowers for at least a mile, so Sadie let Paris go.
The blond mane whipped across Paris’ neck, her head pumped up and down, the dull, muffled sound of her hooves striking the earth sounding like pure music to Sadie’s ears.
The wind tossed Sadie’s dark hair, tore at her dichly, and still Paris pounded on. The grasses swayed, the trees blurred by, and she rode on, the enjoyment of allowing Paris to run free unfettering her own spirits, the worries about Mark Peight streaming behind her, lost on the wind, for now.
Out of the corner of her eye, a dark object crept into her vision. Turning her head, she yelled, goading Paris, who responded with a lowering of her head and an outstretched neck as her muscles renewed their strength, knowing Cody was gaining on her.
Reuben was bent low over Cody’s neck, laughing. His hair was a shade lighter than his horse’s mane, but they flowed together, rippling in the speed of the wind.
Sadie realized Cody might actually beat Paris, so she leaned forward, urging Paris on, talking, talking, and was rewarded by the sight of Cody and Reuben falling back, but only for a second.
As they leaned into the turn, Cody somehow got the inside, and Reuben yelled at Sadie as they inched closer.
On she came, Cody stretched out, running as Sadie had never seen the horse run. She was determined, all by herself, to beat Paris, Sadie could tell. There was a focus in her eyes, a determination in her bearing, and no matter how much Sadie urged Paris on, Cody and Reuben kept gaining.
“No!” Sadie screamed.
They were neck and neck now, coming down the stretch of pasture that led to the lane, so Sadie knew she had to pull Paris in, or they would run downhill at that speed. Sitting up, she pulled back slightly, turning Paris in a circle, back to the wildflowers.
Reuben was standing up in his stirrups, pumping his fist into the air, yelling at the top of his lungs, exultant, completely caught up in the moment.
“Cody did it, Sadie! She did! I don’t care what you say! Cody beat Paris!”
Sadie was laughing, shaking her head, panting, as she pulled Paris to a stop. Cody came prancing up beside them, her nostrils moving rapidly, but clearly not finished running.
Paris was blowing hard.
“You did not beat me, Reuben!” Sadie gasped.
“I did! I’m sure I did. Cody’s nose was ahead of Paris. I saw it!”
Reuben’s tanned face was alight with victory, his hair disheveled, no Amish straw hat in sight. He decided long ago that there was no use wearing a hat to go riding. It wouldn’t stay on his head longer than 10 seconds.
“All right! All right!” Sadie conceded, watching Reuben and glad he won, for his sake, although she didn’t seriously think Cody had actually done it.
“Hey, I bet if I was English, I could race Cody at the rodeos!”
Sadie nodded, “I bet too you could! And you’d win!”
“Aw, I can’t imagine! Think about it, Sadie. Riding like that in front of thousands of people, winning a bunch of money. Wouldn’t it be unreal?”
“Yeah. But we aren’t allowed to race like that. We don’t go to rodeos and stuff either.”
“Why ever not? That’s so dumb. Who said?”
Reuben dismounted, threw the reins expertly over Cody’s head, then stretched out in the grass. “Who said?” he repeated.
“Well, you know how it is, Reuben. We have rules. It’s too worldly to be competitive with our horses. I mean, think about it. If you’re born Amish, you grow up sort of knowing what’s allowed and what isn’t. It’s no big deal.”
Reuben grabbed the stem of a tall wildflower, peeled off the leaves and stuck it in his mouth. He pushed it to the side, as expertly as Jim Sevarr with his toothpick. “I’m going to go English, he said.
“Now, Reuben,” Sadie said mildly.
“I mean it.”
“You’d break Mam’s and Dat’s hearts.”
Reuben nodded soberly, then spat out the stem.
“I know. I’m Dat’s only boy.”
“That’s right. The least you can do for your parents is love and obey them. You know that.”
Reuben nodded soberly, then sat up.
“I like Dat.”
“Well, good for you, Reuben. Dat’s not a hard person to get along with.”
“I like you, too. Sadie, you’re my best sister.”
That was quite a stretch, Reuben saying that, Sadie knew. She reached out with genuine affection to touch her brother’s hair.
“You’re my best brother, too.”
“I’m the only one you have,” Reuben grinned.
“But my best one, anyway.”
It happened so suddenly, the only thing Sadie heard was a high whining sound, sort of like a whistle, but more deadly. She didn’t hear a crack. Not the way you’re supposed to when you tell someone you heard a gunshot. It wasn’t really the hard sound of a gun, the sort that makes you wince every time you hear it.
She knew only one thing: Cody was down. She hit the ground with a sort of grace, the way an accordion folds and produces a beautiful sound from the air pumped into its bellows. One moment she was grazing with Paris; the next, her legs folded beneath her as she made a short, groaning sound, sort of a whoosh. Her head bent back as her legs flailed, she made one pitiful attempt to right herself, then fell. She never took another breath.
Paris snorted, jerked the reins from Sadie’s hands, then galloped off a short distance, her ears flicking, her head held high, watching the tree line.
Reuben cried out, a youth’s cry of alarm, innocent in its raw terror. There was no anger in the sound, only the consternation of not being able to understand.
“Lie down! Reuben, lie flat in the tallest grass!” Sadie hissed.
He obeyed immediately, and they lay with their ears pressed to the ground.
Sadie was terrified.
Who would have done this? Surely not the same people Richard Caldwell talked about. That was in Laredo County at least a hundred miles away. It couldn’t be. Likely a hunter, mistaking Cody’s brown coat for a mule deer or an elk. But hunting season wasn’t until the fall. It had to be someone shooting illegally. A poacher.
Her ear pressed to the ground, Sadie heard nothing except her own heart thumping wildly, seemingly tripping over itself, the blood rushing into her ears with each thump.
“Reuben?” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Do you hear anything? See anything?”
“No.”
“We need to get out of here as fast as possible.”
“I’m not leaving Cody.”
Slowly they raised their heads, peering through the grasses.
When there was no movement anywhere, Sadie hoped they’d be able to make a run for it. She had never been so afraid. She was completely panicked now, her mouth so dry she could not swallow.
“Reuben, you have to go with
me. We need to go, NOW! What if … that man with a gun was waiting in the trees or…”
“He probably left. I’m not leaving Cody.”
Then he was up, walking to his beloved horse, dropping to his knees, stroking her neck, pushing the heavy mane aside with his hands.
Sadie crawled over on her stomach, much too frightened to stand.
Reuben didn’t cry. He just hunkered beside his horse, his eyes flat with the truth of it. Someone had shot Cody.
Sadie couldn’t bear his quietness. She put a hand on his shoulder.
Reuben shrugged it off.
“Don’t.”
“Reuben, listen. We’ll get you another one. I will take this blame. We never should have gone riding. I knew there was trouble, but I just … well, figured they were in Laredo County.”
“You mean those men who shot Black Thunder?”
Sadie nodded.
Still Reuben stayed, stroking Cody’s neck, her face. When he turned to look at Sadie, the disbelief, the inability to comprehend such evil, turned his eyes a darker color, the corners drooping with the weight of his sadness. His mouth trembled, but no words followed.
“We have to go. Please.”
“Not yet.”
There was a dark pool of blood seeping out beneath Cody’s chest. Sadie watched Reuben carefully, willing him away from the sight of it.
Suddenly, he drew a sharp breath.
“C … Cody is bleeding.”
Sadie nodded.
“She’s really dead.”
He bent his head then, put both hands over his face to hide it, as great sobs shook his thin frame. Sadie gathered him in her arms and cried with him, wetting his shoulder with her tears.
She cried for Cody, for Reuben’s pain, for life when it turned cruel, and for the fact that she didn’t understand everything.
Did she understand anything?
Why was Mark angry? Surely he would not have become so upset that he would shoot a horse? But Reuben said his home was filled with guns.
He wouldn’t.
Sadie stroked Reuben’s back, the only way she knew to comfort him, and when he stepped back, dug out a rumpled red handkerchief and blew his nose, he looked at her and took a deep breath.
“I’ll be okay,” was all he said.
