by Linda Byler
“I disagree,” Sadie said firmly.
Mam was taken aback and watched Sadie’s face intently.
“I do. I don’t feel guilty for the things we’ve done, but I know I will soon if it goes any further.”
Dat threw his shoulders back and laughed, releasing the tension. Now they were just Mam and Dat and Sadie. Honest. Completely comfortable. Not false or competing to see who could be the best Christian.
“We are who we are, and each man must answer for what he allows himself to do,” Dat said. “It’s between you and Mark and God.”
Sadie knew she had to approach Mark about this subject, but she also knew that now was not the time, not after the letter from his mother he had just shown her. He was so delicate with things pertaining to his ego, his sense of well-being.
She held his hand and entwined her fingers in his. Their love was a wonderful gift from God and the single best thing that had ever happened to her.
The police department’s search for the snipers had come to a dead end. The license plate led to a stolen car. There were no fingerprints, no leads to pursue, only the same brick wall they always came up against.
For the rest of the winter, there had been no shootings. Most of the Amish argued that it was too cold to be out and too dangerous to make a getaway on the slippery roads. At any rate, a sense of safety pervaded the community, and people relaxed as they got out their horses and buggies to go to town, visit, or travel to church. Would that change now that spring was on the way?
Richard Caldwell shook his gray head, his neatly trimmed mustache bobbing as he warned everyone it was a lull in the storm, that the worst was yet to come.
“They’re mad. They’re out for revenge, and they’re not giving up any time soon, you mark my words,” he told anyone who would listen.
The kitchen work at the ranch had been almost more than Dorothy and Sadie could handle, especially last Christmas. There had been parties, showers, and dinners all winter long, with little Sadie Elizabeth the center of her doting parents’ extravagances.
Dorothy was not happy with all the plans Barbara Caldwell was making but knew that if she wanted to keep her job, she better keep her mouth shut.
Richard Caldwell expanded the ranch. He hired an additional five men to build bigger pole barns for hay and equipment. He increased the size of the cattle herd, and he added sheep to his financial ventures, which brought in every relative Lothario Bean could find to work at the ranch.
They cooked large meals for all the ranch hands and work crews, until one day Dorothy threw her hands in the air, marched into Richard Caldwell’s office, and told him that they needed another person in the kitchen, and if he didn’t get one, she was going to up and quit right there.
While Dorothy argued with the boss, Sadie remained in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and keeping a low profile. She smiled to herself and wondered how it was going in the office. Dorothy really lost her temper this time.
Sadie looked up as they came through the swinging doors of the kitchen. Dorothy’s face was the color of salami, her eyes spitting blue sparks. Richard Caldwell looked somber, every inch the gentleman. He was holding Sadie Elizabeth, who was wearing a little pair of Levi’s with a plaid shirt, already dressing for a life on the ranch.
The look in Richard Caldwell’s eyes gave Sadie goose bumps. What a father this oversized, noisy, uncouth man had become. Little Sadie had molded him into a gentle, devoted daddy.
She had her own puppy already, a little brown dust mop that shed hair over everything, which made more housework for Sadie. It was the sad story of the stray dog that Richard Caldwell had buried when he was a boy that brought the little brown puppy. He was striving to be a good father in every respect, not wanting to make the same mistakes his father had made in the past.
Barbara Caldwell wasn’t fond of Isabel, as the dog was named, but she didn’t complain as long as Sadie kept the rooms vacuumed. That was part of the reason Dorothy had marched into his office.
“Dorothy says she’s quitting.”
“Is she?” Sadie asked, laughing as she put down a wet potato and paring knife. After drying her hands on her apron, she reached for little Sadie Elizabeth.
“She says so. Unless I get more help. You know of any Amish girls looking for a job? One of your sisters?”
“Anna. But she works at the farmer’s market.”
“No friends either?”
“Uh … I think … there’s Erma Keim. She’s almost 30, never married, a real workhorse. She was looking for more a little while ago.”
So that was how Erma Keim began working at the ranch, opening a whole new chapter in the kitchen for Sadie and Dorothy.
Erma was a diesel engine of hard work. Her large, freckled hands flew, her long, sturdy limbs simply catapulted her from kitchen to dining room and back again. Even so, Erma had a rough start, not fitting in with the kitchen responsibilities—or with Dorothy—as Sadie had hoped. It might have been smoother for Erma if she had started off quietly, perhaps with a smidgen of humility. But no, Erma knew how to do everything and do it better than Dorothy, which was like setting fire to a long fuse that sizzled and crackled slowly. Sadie came to work everyday eyeing the burning fuse with caution, completely uncomfortable with Erma’s loud voice.
On her second day, Erma said Dorothy’s sausage gravy could be much improved, although she’d never eaten a better biscuit. On the third day, she asked why they never served breakfast pizza. It was a huge favorite at Erma’s house.
Dorothy had been making frequent trips to the restroom all morning. Sadie knew her constitution was way off, which spelled serious trouble for Erma if she kept on talking about Dorothy’s food.
Suddenly, Dorothy had enough. She threw her balled fists on her hips and said loudly, “I’ve been here for 30-some years, and you’ve barely been here that many hours. I know what the men like and what they don’t, and I highly doubt that your newfangled pizza would be appreciated.”
That shut Erma up. She started scrubbing the wall behind the stove, muttering to herself and casting poisonous looks in Dorothy’s direction. But now she knew where she stood in the pecking order, though she contested it every chance she got.
“Why don’t you ever serve dinner rolls?”
“Men don’t want them little bitty rolls. They want a thick slice of bread they can latch onto.”
When she suggested changing the pancake recipe, Sadie put a warning finger to her lips and sighed with relief when Erma let it go.
When Erma wasn’t around, Dorothy complained to Sadie. “She ain’t normal, that girl. Ain’t no wonder she ain’t got a husband. I wouldn’t marry her either if I was an Amish man.”
However, Erma made a friend for life when she struck up a conversation with swarthy little Lothario Bean and began discussing the merits of keeping eggs and the best way to build a good henhouse.
Sadie decided the human race was full of surprises and unlikely friendships at every turn.
Chapter 18
AND THEN, JUST LIKE THAT, REUBEN BONDED WITH another horse.
Reuben began suggesting he call a driver to go to Critchfield on Friday nights. Dat would grin behind his paper and ask Reuben what he wanted there. Reuben would say an ice cream cone at the food stand or a chicken at the animal sale. His answer never failed to bring a genuine laugh from Dat and a smile out of Reuben.
The horse was brown with a black mane and tail, just like Cody. The ears were small with a curve, giving him an intelligent look.
Reuben named this horse Moon. There was no particular reason for the name. He just liked to say “Giddup, Moon” or “Whoa, Moon.” Reuben said it sounded professional.
The girls had a conversation about the merits of naming a horse Moon, but they agreed to keep quiet and never once mention anything to Reuben.
Reuben spent hours in the barn brushing, cutting and trimming the mane, and washing his saddle with the pungent saddle soap, humming under his breath all the while. He spent
a whole day cleaning the pens, getting fresh shavings from the feed man, throwing down hay, and sweeping every bit of it carefully into Moon’s stall.
Sadie had never seen a horse as spoiled as Moon. He quickly became overfed and used to having his own way. When Moon had a mind to stay inside, Reuben could not get him out of the barn no matter how hard he tried.
He sidestepped and crow-hopped, snorted and lunged, until Sadie felt like using a riding whip on him, something she thoroughly disliked. Sadie clasped her hands until her knuckles were white.
Reuben usually handled a horse easily, but he had to be cautious when Moon was putting on a show like this. Reuben was clearly frustrated. His navy blue beanie slid around on his head, completely covering one eye. His nose was red from the stiff March breeze, and the snow wasn’t helping matters at all.
“Just stop him,” Sadie called out. Her commands were like throwing kerosene on a small fire.
Reuben hopped off the horse, grabbed the reins, and stalked over to Sadie, his eyes spitting his anger. “There you go, Miss Professional, you do it if you think you’re better than me.”
Sadie raised one hand, as if to take back her advice.
“Go! Get up on him and see what you can do!” he yelled, swiping angrily at a dripping icicle.
Sadie caught her breath as the icicle clattered to the concrete, shattering into a thousand fragments. Moon jerked his head, wheeled around, and tore the reins from Reuben’s hand. He took off down the driveway at a gallop, his haunches gathering beneath him as he gained momentum.
Oh, no, Sadie thought.
“Now, look what you did!” Reuben shouted, clearly too upset to talk sense.
How would they catch this horse? He hadn’t been here long enough to call this home. Where would he go?
“Reuben, come,” Sadie called, already heading for the barn. “You can ride double with me. Come quickly. Hurry.”
Sadie slipped the bridle over Paris’ ears and swung herself up. Reuben followed without further urging, his arms sliding around her middle.
“You dressed warm enough?” Sadie asked over her shoulder.
“Yeah.”
Paris was eager, needing little urging to run. There was no sight of Moon on the road. Sadie pulled back on the reins, then decided to go right. She urged Paris into an easy gallop, keeping her eyes on the road ahead for any sign of Moon tearing along.
As Paris’ head bobbed, her mane flowed back in a cream-colored mass. Sadie always loved the sound of her pounding hooves on the macadam, that strong, rhythmic sound of power.
They searched open fields, woods, and ravines. Cars passed, curious drivers peered out at them, but they could find no sign of Moon.
As twilight deepened, Sadie realized they had traveled much farther than they should have. She reined Paris in.
“Reuben, I don’t know if Moon turned in this direction. Should we turn around and try the other direction? Toward Atkin’s Ridge?”
Reuben swiped at his running nose with the back of a gloved hand and shrugged his shoulders miserably.
“We’ll try,” Sadie said, hoping her voice sounded more encouraging than she felt.
“If we don’t find him, someone will. Likely he’ll run into someone’s barnyard,” Sadie said, squeezing Reuben’s knee reassuringly.
She laid the rein expertly across the right side of Paris’ neck, which turned her around. She was eager to run again.
“Why are you holding her back?” Reuben yelled.
“Hang on!” Sadie called, loosening the reins as she did so.
Paris gathered her hooves beneath her, stretched out, and ran. She ran joyously, with that deep, easy stride that was so characteristic of her. Sadie relaxed, not particularly watching for Moon in the joy of the ride.
She and Reuben were both laughing when the car passed them on the left, then stopped in front of them. Their laughter stopped immediately, the sound corked in their throats as two men emerged at the same moment. They stepped forward, holding their arms out as if to form a human fence, a barrier to halt the horse and riders.
Sadie realized the danger of the situation. The men may be armed. If she stopped, they could force her off Paris, and if she didn’t, they might shoot.
Indecision crowded out her fear, but only for a moment. She compressed her lips, leveled her eyes, and focused on the road behind the two men.
“Stay low, Reuben. Here we go.”
She loosened the reins, kicked Paris’ sides, startling her into an instant full gallop. The men’s faces were covered with ski masks of black stretch fabric, with only the horrible whites of their rolling eyes showing.
Bent low, she goaded Paris toward the middle, where there was only a small opening she could break through without hurting anyone.
Would Paris do it?
She called out with all the power she could gather from her unsteady heart. “Go, Paris!”
She heard the men yelling obscenities. With a powerful leap, Parish crushed through the obstacle they had made.
“Go, go, go,” Sadie whispered.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that low black car creeping up beside them, slowly crowding them farther off the road. They rode desperately now, bent low, their breath coming in gasps. Around the next corner, up this last grade, and their house would be in view. But never had the distance seemed so long.
The car was coming closer, the windows down, the men leaning out. Would this be the end of her life then? Had God spared her when he took Ezra, only to have it end this way?
“Stop! Stop!” one of them yelled.
Her answer was another kick in Paris’ stomach. She could almost make out the schoolhouse fence in the snow.
The motor revved, the car crowding them off the side of the road and toward the ditch. Now there was no alternative. She had to stop Paris very suddenly.
“Reuben, I’m stopping.”
She could feel him bracing as she hauled in on the reins with every ounce of her strength. Paris responded immediately, almost sitting down in her desire to perform for Sadie.
The car flew past, then braked. The men in the car looked back in bewilderment. That was when Sadie leaned forward and begged Paris to take them past the car yet again.
“Go, go. Oh, Paris, you can do this!”
The hulking black vehicle was a blur as they hurled past.
The driveway!
If they could just make it to the end of the driveway, they would have outwitted these men. Sadie was convinced they were not armed, but why?
Paris ran low and fast, her feet pounding the macadam. They were on the wrong side of the road, the car closing in fast. But they were still ahead.
Oh, no! A truck was coming!
“Reuben! Stay with me!” she screamed, breathless now.
Sadie whipped the reins so that Paris veered to the left, never slowing her pace. The truck driver turned the wheel desperately to the right, narrowly missing Paris, almost scraping the black car, the driver shaking his fist and pumping the horn with the palm of his hand.
Sadie saw the mailbox and the paper holder. Oh, thank you, God.
They raced around the boxes, gravel and soil flying from beneath Paris’ hooves as they hit the driveway. The ringing of hooves on macadam is very different from the sound of them on dirt and stone. It was a sound so sweet, it was almost Sadie’s undoing. She knew they had made it. She became limp, without strength, like a rag thrown about. She rode numbly, looking over her shoulder for the shape of that dark vehicle.
Sadie’s eyesight was blurred by her tears, but she saw the slowly moving hulk of a car. Its hoarse cries assailed her senses, a foreboding so thick it was impenetrable. A sound so violent, the only suitable word to cover it was evil. What did these men want from her?
Paris kept up her desperate pace, lunging up the driveway, running low past the house. Leah was just stepping out of the phone shanty, Mam’s old sweater wrapped tightly around her shivering body. She jumped back as the horse went
sailing past, then shook her head and walked after them as Paris slid to a halt.
“Sadie, what is going on? You scared us so badly. What were we supposed to think when Co … I mean, Moon, came running fast up the drive without a rider! One of these days you guys are seriously going to get hurt with your ga-mach.”
Leah’s face was white, her words cutting, her anger barely controlled. Mam and Rebekah entered the forebay, breathless, old sweaters wrapped around their shoulders as if they had grabbed them off the hooks and raced out the door.
“Sadie!” Mam’s word was sharp, her relief evident.
“You’re just crazy!” Rebekah said, loudly, accusingly.
Reuben slid off Paris and opened his mouth to answer when he saw Moon’s face hanging over the gate of his stall. Charging along the forebay, he grabbed his horse’s face with both hands and planted a loud kiss on his nose.
“Aw, Moon, my Moon,” he crooned. Then he turned, his face alight, and said, “Hey, he ran home. He knows where he belongs!”
Sadie smiled, her dimples deep with genuine warmth and admiration. That Reuben could ride!
As Paris drank deeply from the trough, Sadie told them what happened. She tried not to elaborate, knowing Mam would become too upset. As it was, Mam crossed her arms and said there was no way they were allowed to ride until the law got to the bottom of this.
Dat and Anna entered the barn, wiping slivers of wood from their work coats. They had been piling wood in the basement all evening. They listened as Sadie related the incident yet again. Dat glared with disapproval, admonishing their behavior with sharp words. Anna stood at his side, her eyes large with fear.
“It’s Paris!” she said finally. “They want her. She’s the only one left from those wild horses. She’s a beautiful horse. She likely has an expensive bloodline in her or something.”
Leah and Rebekah nodded solemnly.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay off the road with her.”
“Better yet, don’t ride her at all.”
Sadie stared at her family in disbelief. The incident wasn’t her fault.
