Sadie’s Montana Trilogy

by Linda Byler

  What did he do on Sunday? Why didn’t he ask for an ordinary date like normal people? He probably had some deep, dark secret of his own, like Erma Keim thought.

  Sadie played volleyball. At supper with her friends, she sat at the singing table and sang with everyone else, her thoughts far away.

  Was she crazy, the way Erma Keim said?

  She watched Yoni’s Crist Weaver. He was tall, wide in his shoulders, dressed nice enough, with a receding hairline. Actually, his hair, what there was of it, was thin and brown. His eyes were pleasant, not too close to his nose, which was large and took up a lot of room on his face. He seemed shy, quiet, not very comfortable in the girls’ presence. Sadie thought he’d make a wonderful companion for the boisterous, colorful Erma. She would fill his days with her never ending viewpoints, and her unique take on life would completely change him. Wasn’t there an old saying about opposites attracting?

  Later that evening, Sadie sat at the kitchen table with Rebekah, drinking a Diet Pepsi, munching on “old maids,” the leftover unpopped kernels of popcorn that remained in the bottom of the bowl.

  “You should somehow get her fixed up a little. How would you go about telling her those limp coverings are simply a disaster?” Leah giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Her hair is worse. Hasn’t she ever heard of hair spray?”

  “She has a nice figure, she’s thin, at least, but her feet are so scarily big. I bet she wears a size 11 or 12.”

  “That’s okay. Crist is bald almost, and 40.”

  “They’d be so cute together.”

  “I don’t believe her one bit about men.”

  “I don’t either.”

  Sadie looked at the clock.

  “Shoot. Midnight,” she said, yawning.

  “Where’s Leah?”

  “I have no idea. She was talking to a group when we left.”

  They drained their Pepsis, wiped the table, and were just ready to go upstairs to bed when headlights came slowly up the drive.

  “Hmm, Leah,” Rebekah said, watching as the buggy approached.

  Then, “Oh, my goodness! The… They’re going to the barn. I bet you anything Kevin… Oh, my!”

  Catching Sadie’s sleeve, she tugged, and said, “Come on, Sadie! He’s coming in! Quick!”

  Together they dashed up the stairs, flung open the door of Sadie’s room, and collapsed on the bed, giggling like school girls. They heard Kevin’s deep voice and Leah’s nervous laughter.

  The girls whispered about the lack of cookies or bars in the house, anything Leah could serve to him on that first, much-anticipated date.

  “There are chocolate whoopie pies in the freezer,” Sadie said.

  “He doesn’t want a frozen whoopie pie.”

  “They’re best that way.”

  “Well, go down and set one on the table for him.”

  They dissolved into giggles imagining Leah’s anger if they did something so completely senseless on her very first date.

  They were both sound asleep when Leah finally came upstairs. She had managed well on her own, asking him politely if he wanted a snack, which he declined, saying he ate a big helping of cheese and pretzels at the singing. Really, he was far too nervous to eat anything after working up the nerve to ask Leah if he could take her home.

  Sadie arrived at work the following morning in a state of melancholy. Not only had her younger sister been on a date, but she seemed to be back to square one with Mark.

  When Dorothy fussed and fumed, Sadie became more irritated than usual and told Dorothy she needed to get more kitchen help or retire. One or the other, take your pick. She meant every word she said, and when Dorothy sat down on a kitchen chair and ignored her the whole forenoon, Sadie didn’t care.

  Marcellus and Louis came to the kitchen with Jim. The kids were sweet and clean, with only a hint of the usual anxiety in their eyes. Sadie turned on her heel and started savagely stacking dishes in the commercial dishwasher. She resented the way Dorothy turned into another person the minute the children made an appearance.

  She felt old and dissatisfied with her life. She was bitter about Mark and his strange ways. She was tired of it now. She wanted a home of her own, a husband to love and cherish. She wanted to quit slaving away at this ranch. She wanted, well … Mark.

  When Jim came in, she barely acknowledged his jovial smile.

  “We’re a bit sour this morning?” he asked her, chuckling.

  “A bit.”

  “Want to ride with me to town?”

  “Yeah, take her with you. Dry cleaning needs picked up,” Dorothy said flatly.

  So that was how Sadie found herself in Jim’s pickup with a list of groceries in her hand. Her foul mood lifted as the truck wound its way along country roads, dust flying from under the tires.

  She rolled her window down, flung an elbow out the side of the door, watched the scenery roll away, and listened to Jim’s good-natured conversation.

  They picked up the dry cleaning, zipped it carefully in a navy-blue garment bag, and laid it on the truck bed. They bought groceries and picked up salt blocks at the feed store. Then they stopped for a cup of coffee.

  It was pleasant sitting in the truck, watching the hustle and bustle of the people. Everyone seemed intent on their own personal business. They were all a variety of achievers but working together to make the town a place that was busy and industrious.

  A shining, 15-passenger van came slowly down the street, the driver and the occupant of the front seat straining to read the street signs. The women’s coverings were heart-shaped and their hair combed back severely, shining and sleek. Another group of Amish from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, visiting the west.

  Sadie turned her head, hoping they wouldn’t see her. She simply was not in the mood to talk to strangers. When the van stopped, she willed herself to be invisible to them.

  Just when she thought they had moved on, she heard a rich masculine voice say, “Excuse me.”

  She turned her head, and her gaze found the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He had a mop of streaked blondish-brown hair, a square jaw, and a very nice smile.

  She was going to say “Hello” or “Hi,” but nothing came out of her mouth. Nothing.

  When she finally got her bearings, she stuttered a bit, became flustered, yanked open the door of the pickup, and stood on the street. Later she wondered why in the world she did that when she could have given him directions from her seat in the pickup just as easily.

  “I’m looking for Bozeman Avenue.”

  She gave him halting directions as he watched her face intently. She wished he’d ask her name, but he didn’t. The group was from Lancaster County, as Sadie had suspected. They were staying for a month or so. He said his mother was in ill health, and Sadie said she was sorry to hear it.

  Then they simply stood there for several moments and looked at each other. He turned to go, then stopped and asked her name. When she told him, he smiled and said, “See you around.”

  Sadie felt as if a smile like that made anything possible. He left her standing in the street beside the old pickup, but twice he looked back.

  Chapter 8

  EVENTUALLY, SADIE PERSUADED DAT TO HIRE A driver and get the buckboard she wanted. She said she would pay for it and do all the painting herself if he would build new seats and replace the floor. They had an extra pair of fiberglass shafts, although Reuben airily informed his father they weren’t worth much if they were going to hitch Paris double.

  Dat lifted his eyebrows, then lowered them, took off his straw hat and scratched his head. His graying hair was in disarray, but it didn’t matter because his hat would cover it anyway.

  “Thought you weren’t going to get another horse,” he said slowly.

  “If we find one that looks like Paris, I will.”

  “Good.”

  Sadie made a phone call and told Dat that John Arnold would be here at two to pick him up. Then she swept the buggy shed, picked up ba
ler twine, swept the forebay, washed her saddle and bridle with saddle soap and wax, then, to pass the time, she swiped at cobwebs hanging around the barn.

  She called Paris. The horse was grazing at the lower end of the pasture with Charlie. Paris answered with a lazy lift of the head. She pricked her ears forward and lowered her head, her tail swishing steadily.

  Charlie, however, decided it might be worth a try for some feed. He came obediently, his brown head bobbing in easy rhythm with every step, his shoes clicking against the small stones on the path.

  “Come, Paris! Come on!”

  Sadie coaxed the horse with her hands cupped around her mouth, but Paris refused to budge, staying under the shade of the large oak tree, her head lowered sleepily.

  Sadie shook her head and turned to go when she heard the truck returning in a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust. Dat and the driver leapt from the truck, losing no time in unhitching the trailer, before John Arnold sped off down the driveway in a great swirl of rolling dust.

  “What is up with him?” Sadie asked.

  “There’s been another shooting. Poor sheep farmer over in Oaken Valley. Name of Ben Ching. He had two champion quarter horses. The only thing he owned worth anything. Both shot this morning, early.”

  Sadie stared at her father, her eyes filling with tears.

  “But who…?”

  Dat shrugged. “His wife works at the dry cleaners in town. They’re Chinese, or Japanese, foreign something. Their daughter is a barrel racer.”

  Sadie crossed her arms and shivered, then looked off across the valley. Dat turned to loosen the straps that held the buckboard, which looked more like a decrepit old wreck with each passing moment.

  “It’s like a bad omen, Dat. Those horse thieves on the loose, the wild horses scaring us, and now this. It’s almost as if someone is determined to… I don’t know, make us all afraid of something unknown.”

  Dat unhooked another strap, straightened, and said wisely, “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think it’s unsuccessful horse thieves who are still mad and taking revenge on their failure. They won’t get away with it.”

  Sadie nodded. “How did they know the spot on the ridge where Cody was shot? You know, sometimes I wonder if it’s not someone closer than we think. Who else but us knows of that field of wildflowers?”

  “The people you work with down at the ranch?”

  Sadie shook her head. “I doubt it. I mean, there is not one single person down there who seems even vaguely suspicious. Well, these two children…”

  “What two children?”

  “You know, Marcellus and Louis.”

  “Who?”

  Dat stopped working, straightened, and looked at Sadie, switching the piece of hay in his mouth to the other side.

  “Those … dark-skinned Latinos, Mexicans … whatever they are. Beautiful children. I told you.”

  “No, you didn’t. I heard nothing of this.”

  “Well, you must not have been home when I told the rest of the family.”

  She told her father the whole story down to their impeccable manners, Dorothy’s total devotion to them, and the jewels in the drawstring bag.

  “Hmmm.”

  That was all Dat said before Reuben came out of the house holding one cheek and with a sour expression on his face.

  “Reuben!” Sadie called, “Look what arrived!”

  Reuben looked, snorted, then said, “Piece of junk.”

  Dat smiled and Sadie stifled a laugh.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Toothache.”

  “A serious one?”

  Reuben nodded. “Hurts plenty. Mam’s taking me to the dentist at 4:30.”

  Sadie cooked supper that evening with Anna’s help. Rebekah and Leah were working late at the produce market, so it was an ideal time for Sadie to spend time with her youngest sister.

  As Sadie peeled potatoes, Anna shredded cabbage on a hand-held grater, her head bent to the task. She answered the questions Sadie asked, but the usual youthful chatter was completely absent.

  “Now, for coleslaw. Fix the dressing. A few tablespoons of mayonnaise, some sugar…”

  “Not mayonnaise,” Anna said sharply.

  “Why not mayonnaise?”

  “Miracle Whip. Half the calories and fat.”

  “Anna! Seriously? When did you start worrying about calories?”

  Immediately Anna became flustered, nervously tugging at a covering string, refusing to look at Sadie.

  “I’m not. I … just … like the taste of Miracle Whip so much better. That’s all.”

  “Just so you know, you aren’t fat, Anna.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m grossly overweight. I’m obese.”

  Sadie leaned against the counter, pursed her lips, and watched a red-faced Anna mixing sugar into the shredded cabbage.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “The scales.”

  “You don’t weigh more than me, Anna.”

  “I weigh a lot more.”

  “How much do you weigh?”

  “I’m not saying.”

  No amount of coaxing would persuade Anna to reveal the troubling number. Sadie detected a note of genuine sadness in her sister’s voice, so she let it go. No use prompting and upsetting her younger sister more than she was.

  They ate at 6:00. Leah and Rebekah did dishes together while Sadie tidied the kitchen. She put magazines and newspapers in the basket beside Dat’s recliner, then wandered aimlessly from the porch swing to the living room and back. Finally, when she realized the hour was quite late, she became concerned.

  Where were Mam and Reuben? His appointment had been at 4:30, and it was getting close to eight. Oh, well, likely they had gone to buy groceries.

  She wandered out to the barn, having heard hammering noises coming from that direction. Dat was tearing up the floor of the buckboard. Sadie was clearly delighted, unable to believe he was already starting on a project he didn’t want to do in the first place.

  She watched from a distance, then decided not to approach him or praise him for his work. Sometimes when you did that, Dat turned gruff, downplaying his emotions, even walking away.

  Sadie went into the phone shanty and sat on the cracked plastic chair at the counter. Flies buzzed at the screen, half dead or still trying in vain to escape. If they would only turn around and look in another direction, they’d be able to fly straight out the door to the great, wide, freedom outside.

  Flies were like that. Idiotic, annoying little insects that drove you crazy in the summertime, hibernating in the cracks of the windows in winter, making a brand new appearance in spring. So far, Sadie could find no purpose for flies, other than making life miserable for humans and beasts alike. Horses swished their tails endlessly all summer long, cows swatted, stamped their feet, swung their heads, and still the flies tormented them. Housewives swatted flies, hung fly paper, yelled at children to close the screen doors, and still the flies found a way in.

  She picked up the phone and heard the familiar “beep, beep, beep” that indicated someone had left a message. But there was none, so she replaced the receiver and swatted aimlessly at a pesky fly. As she turned to leave, the shrill vibration of the phone pierced her consciousness and made her jump.

  Instantly, her thoughts, as always, turned to Mark Peight. As sure as the sun came up every morning, whenever the phone rang, her heart leaped within her, and Mark came to mind.

  She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  No answer.

  Sadie waited a few seconds and decided to try once more. “Hello?”

  She heard raspy breathing. But only that. No words.

  The silence now turned ominous.

  Quickly she replaced the receiver, then stood watching the phone as if it might turn into some dangerous object if she wasn’t careful. It rang again, that shrill sound, and shivers went up her spine.

  Should she pick it up? What if someone was playing a joke? Mark Peight? Woul
d he do something like that? What about Mam and Reuben? Maybe there was an accident? That thought goaded her as she immediately picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  Only the same raspy breathing, almost the way a snake sounded as it slithered across a rock.

  Once, when she was walking with her friends on the way home from school, a snake had made its way up the side of a rocky cliff. It seemingly made no sound at all, and yet, it was there, just like this breathing.

  She hung up firmly, resolved not to pick up the receiver again, and walked out of the phone shanty. She was determined to put it from her mind. It was nothing. Just a wrong number.

  She was grateful to see headlights winding their way up the hill in the deepening twilight. Mam and Reuben! Fear and uncertainty faded away at the thought of Mam coming up the hill with a grouchy Reuben in the backseat. Mam was her anchor at times like this.

  The car stopped and the interior light came on. Mam paid the driver, then emerged from the vehicle and opened the back door for Reuben.

  Sadie and Anna helped unload groceries, scattering the bags across the kitchen table and countertops.

  Mam threw her bonnet on the counter, her face colored slightly, her blue eyes snapping.

  “Now that’s the last time I’m doing something like that!” she announced firmly.

  Oh, here we go again, Sadie thought wryly.

  “I absolutely hate it when a driver does that to me!” Mam fairly shouted.

  “I called him first. Yes, he can go. Fine. He comes to pick up me and Reuben, and once we’re in the van he says he hopes we don’t mind taking Dave Detweiler, Sally, and guess who else? That Fred Ketty, of all people! Oh, I was about nuts. Here I had an appointment, and he still had to pick up these other two women. And you know Fred Ketty? She’s as slow as molasses in January, never ready when the driver comes. When she finally came lumbering out the sidewalk so slow, I had a notion to tell her to go back and change her apron. She had food all over it. Talked the whole way to town in Dutch, of course, picking her teeth with a toothpick. Oh…!!”

  There were no other words to describe her trip to town except for that final exasperated “Oh!” Mam wiped her face with a paper towel, then rummaged through the plastic grocery bags muttering about her ice cream being nothing but milk.