by Linda Byler
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.
Horses! Dark, flowing horses!
Like one body, the horses broke free of the pines that held them back, and in one fluid movement, streamed across the snowy field, disappearing again in a matter of seconds.
Whose horses were loose? Who owned so many? It was like a band of wild horses. And yet… Had she really seen them? Or was it a mirage of wishful thinking?
As if to bring her back to earth, the yellow glow of two headlights came slowly around the bend in the driveway, making steady progress up the hill.
Ezra.
I cannot imagine what possessed me to try this again, she thought, suddenly face-to-face with reality.
Her eyes turned back to the black and white serenity of the moonlit ridge. There wasn’t a trail or dent, not even a shadow, in the snowy hillside to show her if what she had seen was actually real. Tomorrow! Tomorrow she would climb the ridge and see if she could find anything.
Tonight, however, belonged to Ezra.
Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders into her black, wool coat, grabbed a pair of warm gloves and her purse, and went slowly down the stairs.
“Ooooo!” sighed Rebekah, clasping her hands.
“Pink!” Anna yelled.
Reuben looked up from his book and grinned toothily.
“Pink! For Ezra!”
Sadie wrapped a cream-colored scarf around her neck, adjusting it just so.
“It’s not a date!” Sadie hissed at Reuben.
“What else is it?” Reuben called from his perch on the brown recliner.
“I’m going to clip your ears!” Sadie shouted.
Reuben howled with glee, slapping his knee, and Sadie ground her teeth in frustration. Little brothers were the most bothersome things anyone had ever endured, like lice or cold sores, and worth about as much, too.
She didn’t say good-bye to anyone, just let herself out the sturdy, oak door into the glare of Ezra’s buggy lights.
“Hello, Sadie.”
“How are you, Ezra?”
“I’m good, I’m doing well. And you?”
“I’m fine.”
He came over to the buggy steps, immediately holding out his hand to assist her. She had forgotten how tall he was.
“Thank you.”
Sadie settled herself on the buggy seat, sliding over against the side as far as she could, hoping his leg and the side of his coat would not touch her at all.
She blinked rapidly when he stepped into the buggy and his large frame filled three-fourths of the seat, his upper arm secure against her shrinking shoulder, his thigh firmly against her coat. His gloved hand reached down and pulled on the buggy robe, tucking her securely against him, protecting her from the cold. Sweet Ezra—kind and thoughtful as always.
“All right then. Here we go. Comfortable?”
“Y—yes, yes, I am.”
She was suddenly aware of how really close one person sat to another in a buggy. It was so … so intimate, especially in winter with both people covered by the same lap robe. She wondered, fleetingly, how you could keep a good and proper courtship for two years while tucked cozily together under a buggy robe like this.
“We’ve got quite a few miles to go, so I thought I’d be on time.”
“I was ready.”
“Yes. I remember that about you, Sadie. You never made me wait very long.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Sadie shrank against the side of the buggy, the close proximity strangling her or suffocating her or maybe just making it hard to breathe. She wanted to yank open the window, gulp great, deep draughts of cold, winter air so she could survive.
Calm down, Sadie, she told herself. It’s just Ezra. He can bring up all the “remembers” he wants, but you still have a choice.
They talked then, easily and as comfortably as possible, but only after Sadie calmed herself and prepared for his reminiscing of the time they dated.
Ezra actually seemed more relaxed and jovial than Sadie remembered. He was not so black and white, not as strict and overbearing as he once was. She actually found herself enjoying the conversation. He and Sadie talked about horses and, yes, he had heard about the theft of the horses in another county. They talked about that being a coincidence, but agreed that it was highly improbable that there could be a connection.
Sadie kept the subject of Nevaeh to herself. It just seemed too emotional, too intimate to think of sharing the whole story with Ezra. Besides, it might open the subject of Richard Caldwell and her job, both of which he disapproved of so strongly. Better to let that one lie, she thought. No use saying anything.
As if on cue, Ezra blurted out, “So, how’s work down at the fancy ranch?”
Sadie cringed.
“Good.”
“I heard you had quite a scare with that horse jumping out in front of the truck.”
Sadie jerked her head in his direction.
“How … how do you know about that?”
“What does it matter?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s all right, of course.”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed.
“You ain’t hiding anything are you?”
“No, no. Of course not.”
“Guess the horse didn’t make it, huh?”
“Yes, he did.”
“He did? Found the owner yet?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“At … at the Caldwell ranch.”
“Really?”
Oh, just hush up now. Let it go, she pleaded silently. But Ezra was tenacious, hanging onto a subject like a bulldog with his teeth sunk into his prey.
“Bet old Richard Caldwell wasn’t happy.”
“No.”
“Can’t believe he kept him.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t really want to talk about this, do you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always wanted
a horse, so here’s your chance.”
“Yes.”
Ezra laughed. “Yes. No. Yes. No.”
Sadie laughed with him.
“Not exactly an exciting person, am I?”
To her complete horror, Ezra stopped the horse, making sure he came to a complete stop before dropping the reins and turning to face her squarely.
“Sadie, nothing could be farther from the truth. You are on my mind, in my thoughts, constantly. I still love you with all my heart.”
Sadie went numb with disbelief as his large, gloved hands wrapped themselves tenderly around the wool fabric of her shoulders.
“If I was not an Amish person who takes his vows seriously I would crush you to my heart, Sadie, and kiss you senseless. I would. Just like in romance books. But I want to serve God first, deny myself, and pray about us and His perfect will for my life. I feel I owe that to God and to Jesus Christ who has died for me. It is the only thing that keeps me going. The Christian life, the narrow path.”
Sadie had never been so shocked in all her life. Ezra! To think he was capable of such speech, of such emotions, of such…such tenderness and…love and of shameful thought…of desire.
“Now I’ve said too much, right?”
His hands fell away and reached for the reins while a thousand words and feelings crashed through Sadie’s senses. Was this Ezra? Was Ezra able to voice these kinds of feelings?
“I’ve ruined it now, the little thread we were hanging onto. Or I was. You probably let go a long time ago.”
Sadie was still speechless, although she managed to put a hand on his arm. For what? For reassurance? For conveying regret? She didn’t know.
“Ezra, it’s quite all right. It really is. I just…didn’t know.”
“I’ve had a lot of spiritual struggles. When we dated, I was obsessed with perfection according to the Ordnung, to our walk in life. I can see so clearly why you broke up with me.”
But you’re still like that.
Sadie couldn’t keep the thought back, although she said nothing. She was more than happy to ride the remaining miles in silence. It was not entirely uncomfortable. She felt as if they had reached a truce. For now.
When they turned in the Owen Miller drive, Ezra began again.
“I’m sorry, Sadie, for that bit of …”
He laughed nervously, ashamedly.
“I guess I’m sorry for what happened between us. But a lot has happened since we broke up, and I’ve let go of my iron resolve to be the perfect Christian man. You know there is no such thing. I am a weak person and you are my weakness—my undoing. And that is the truth. I used to imagine that the more I walked perfectly with God, the more he would bless me for that and give you to me. You are all I wanted in life.”
He shook his head ruefully.
“Selfish, aren’t I? Do you know how stupid that is? I’ll be good if you give me what I want. But don’t we all sort of bargain with God in a way?”
Sadie was in disbelief again.
Ezra! Talking this way! It was mind-boggling.
“Well, here we are. I’ll be ready to take you home after the singing.”
He smiled down at her. From the light of the headlights, Sadie could see his genuine, broad smile containing more honesty than she could have ever imagined from him. Tenderly, he laid the back of his hand on her cheek, then let her go. She thought she heard him say, “So perfect.” But perhaps it was only her imagination.
Her mind reeling, Sadie made her way dizzily into the kessle-haus, or laundry room, the part of the house most families used as a catch-all for coats, boots, umbrellas, and laundry, for mixing calf starter, warming baby chicks, canning garden vegetables, or like now, for containing a gaggle of fussing girls. They were dispensing coats and scarves, giggling, leaning into mirrors to adjust coverings, swiping at stray hair, sharing secrets, and squealing with glee at the sight of a close friend too long unseen.
“Sadie! Oh, it’s been too long! Missed you terribly!”
Lydiann grasped Sadie’s gloved hands.
“What’s wrong with you? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”
Sadie laughed nervously, waving it off with one hand.
“No! You’re overworked imagination is seeing things as usual, Lydiann!”
“Come with me to the bathroom! Come on!”
Lydiann pulled her along, and Sadie was profoundly grateful to be in the small bathroom with only one person until she could gain a semblance of normalcy. Her hands were shaking so that she could barely fix her hair or adjust her covering. Lydiann prattled on about Johnny, her current crush, while Sadie nodded, smiled, said yes or no at the right times, and, in plain words, acted like a zombie.
“What in the world is up with you?”
Lydiann stopped prattling, stood squarely in front of her friend, put her hands on her hips, and eyed Sadie shrewdly.
“Who brought you?”
Sadie said nothing, just looked down at the toe of her shoe, rearranging the brown shag of the carpet.
“Who?”
“The man in the moon, that’s who!” Sadie said finally, laughing.
“Oh, he did, did he? I bet he’s a real nice guy!”
They burst out laughing together.
“Seriously, Sadie, who brought you?”
“I told you.”
“Stop it, Sadie. It’s not funny.”
“How did you get here?”
“All right. Ezra.”
“Ezra?”
“Yes. Ezra. So what’s wrong with that? Huh? Can you tell me? What’s wrong with Ezra bringing me to the singing? We used to date, you know.”
Lydiann’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide.
“You can close your mouth any time now,” Sadie said as she flung open the bathroom door and walked out, Lydiann on her heels.
The girls filed into the Miller living room, greeting the parents that were seated on folding chairs along the wall. Furniture had been pushed back to accommodate the long table in the middle of the room. The gleaming, varnished church benches sat on each side of the table. The brown hymn books were placed along the table in neat piles, waiting for the youth to open them and begin the singing.
At a hymn sing, the youth sang the old songs of their forefathers in German, although they sang some classic English tunes and choruses as well. The singing was a fine blend of youthful voices, and the evening was meant for fellowship in each other’s company, while practicing new songs to replenish the old.
The girls sat on one side of the table, the boys on the other. When the boys slid into place on the smooth bench opposite the girls, Sadie looked up and straight into brown eyes that seemed strangely familiar.
Mark!
His look of recognition mirrored her own. Cheeks blazing, she looked at the only safe place—down at her hands in her lap. Her first thought was, what is an English person doing here at our hymn-singing? I wonder what the parents will think?
“Sadie? Vee bisht doo?”
Bravely, she looked up and calmly said, “Gut.”
He smiled then, relaxed and at ease. Opening the hymn book, he talked to Nathan Keim beside him and acted like a total veteran of hymn singings—as if he’d been attending them all his life.
How did he get here—and him not being Amish? He had nerve. He probably picked up that “Vee bisht doo” thing tonight. Imagine. He would not get away with this, that was one thing sure.
Her head lowered, Sadie stole glances, watching Mark when he was not looking.
The singing began in earnest then, leaving Sadie completely nonplussed again. Mark joined in the singing! He knew the verses. He knew the words. He knew German perfectly. But how could he? He was not Amish! His hair wasn’t even Amish. It was cut close to his head.
She bet the Miller parents were silently having a fit. This would be the talk for months—that brazen, English person who came to the singing.
And he knew the German.
Likely, he came from Germany. With
a name like Peight.
Chapter 9
A FEW WEEKS LATER, Sadie opened the stable door, catching her breath after her fast sprint from the ranch kitchen. Warm smells swirled around her, sharp pungent hay and sticky, sweet molasses mixed with the nutty odor of oats and shelled corn.
Gomez, one of the stable hands, nodded, averting his eyes shyly and ducking his head beneath the bill of his cap as he pushed the wide broom back and forth across the aisle between the stables.
“Good morning!”
Sadie jumped.
“Oh, it’s you! Good morning to you, too!”
Richard Caldwell was standing at the door of Nevaeh’s stall, shaking his head back and forth. As he turned to look at her, Sadie saw a soft gleam in his eyes, a sort of excitement, a different light than she had ever seen in him.
“Sadie Miller, I think we have us a winner here!”
Sadie stood, surveying the dim interior of Nevaeh’s stall. He lifted his head, his nostrils quivering with soft, little breaths. It was a movement of recognition and of gladness the moment he spied Sadie. Immediately, the horse made his way through the sawdust and straw to stand before Sadie. She slipped past Richard Caldwell and slid her arms around Nevaeh’s neck, bending her head, murmuring her greeting in Dutch.
It was a sight that never failed to bring a tightening to Richard Caldwell’s throat. The connection between the girl and this horse was amazing. That horse knew Sadie as sure as shooting, and he would do anything Sadie asked of him.
“Yep! We got us a winner!” he said, in his normal, much-too-loud kind of voice.
“You mean…?” Sadie asked.
“This horse is no ordinary one. You can tell by the lines of his shoulders, the way he holds his head, the deep chest. The more he’s gaining, the easier I can tell. He’s no wild mustang, this one. He’s someone’s horse with outstanding bloodlines running in them veins of his.”
Sadie’s heart sank at his words.
“Then, he’s someone’s horse?”