kids, found out about the … I can’t say … and plumb lost his mind. Started thievin’ and doin’ illegal stuff just to get his hands on these horses. Offered me … I can’t say.”
“So, if you just work for this man, why can’t you let me go? Does he know I’m here? Does anyone know why?”
“Yeah. Well, in the beginning he did. But I’m not sure he didn’t … I can’t say.”
“Well, if you don’t know how I can go home, why don’t you just put a stop to this whole deal and let me go?”
He looked at her, and she saw the wavering in his eyes, the doubt, a certain dipping of his eyelids.
“Because I’m getting a bunch of money if we get that horse. I mean, a lot. And … I thought if I have so much money, maybe Adele will come back to me. See, she needs money to keep her happy, and I just couldn’t make enough for her. I mean, to keep her with me, happy— you know?”
He looked up. “Adele’s a terrific cook. She cooks the best sausage and eggs with salsa, fried tomatoes with chilies, it’s unreal. I loved her. Did anything I could to keep her. The kids though, that’s what really broke my heart.”
Sadie nodded. “Must be hard, losing your wife.”
“You could live with me. Just disappear. Can you cook? We could go across the border. I don’t want to go to jail.”
Suddenly, he appeared to Sadie as his true self, undisguised. A fat, lonely man, afraid, who had only been trying to make enough money to keep his spoiled wife at his side. Perhaps he was as afraid as she was, only in a different way. Was he capable of harming her? She doubted it.
Quickly, she weighed her options, measured them on the scale of pros and cons. To go with him, out of this room. To refuse, stay here, with no promise of escape. It was the confinement that was hardest. She would go. She would risk it. What did she have to lose?
“You take me, I’ll go.”
He looked at her, then shook his head. “Can’t do it. I have to wait. Surely I’ll get the money.”
Sadie felt the desperation assail her, became fueled by it, burst out, “But if you don’t even know if your … your boss is trying to contact the men who have Paris … the horse, then how is this thing ever going to come to an end?”
She was crying, then sniveling, pleading, groveling at his feet.
“Just please take me home. Get me out of here. I’ve done nothing wrong except own a palomino horse. Supposing I was your daughter? Your son?”
In the end, the fat man hardened his heart, became harsh, adamant, refusing to budge or listen to her cries. She knew without looking at him when she heard him heave himself from the chair, open the door, turn the key in the lock, and leave.
It was the large sum of money. Her despair felt like a heavy backpack that wore down her resolve, her hope, her courage. There was truly nothing left. They would let her die in this room.
Well, she wasn’t going to die. She had too much to live for. Mark. She pictured him. Tall, dark hair tumbling over his forehead, a new line of dark hair appearing along his jawbone, growing the beard in the Amish style of the married man, so handsome, so gentle. How she loved him! And she had Mam, Dat, Reuben, her sisters, Dorothy. No, she would not give up.
Eyeing the bedspread, the towels, estimating a sheet’s length, she sat on the beige sofa and planned. As her thoughts were fueled by a shot of adrenaline, she formed a plan. It was absolutely doable. Yes, it was. The hardest part was determining how to secure the end of the rope of sheets firmly enough to hold her weight. The door? The bed? The doorknob? Would it hold? Oh, dear God, help me.
As night fell, she knew it was this night or never. To pass time, she took a long hot bath, shampooed her hair, hung up the towels, rinsed the tub and bowl of the vanity. She straightened the cushions on the beige sofa, then found extra sheets, towels, whatever she could knot together to form a rope of sorts.
With her teeth, she gnawed
“So, if you just work for this man, why can’t you let me go? Does he know I’m here? Does anyone know why?”
“Yeah. Well, in the beginning he did. But I’m not sure he didn’t … I can’t say.”
“Well, if you don’t know how I can go home, why don’t you just put a stop to this whole deal and let me go?”
He looked at her, and she saw the wavering in his eyes, the doubt, a certain dipping of his eyelids.
“Because I’m getting a bunch of money if we get that horse. I mean, a lot. And … I thought if I have so much money, maybe Adele will come back to me. See, she needs money to keep her happy, and I just couldn’t make enough for her. I mean, to keep her with me, happy— you know?”
He looked up. “Adele’s a terrific cook. She cooks the best sausage and eggs with salsa, fried tomatoes with chilies, it’s unreal. I loved her. Did anything I could to keep her. The kids though, that’s what really broke my heart.”
Sadie nodded. “Must be hard, losing your wife.”
“You could live with me. Just disappear. Can you cook? We could go across the border. I don’t want to go to jail.”
Suddenly, he appeared to Sadie as his true self, undisguised. A fat, lonely man, afraid, who had only been trying to make enough money to keep his spoiled wife at his side. Perhaps he was as afraid as she was, only in a different way. Was he capable of harming her? She doubted it.
Quickly, she weighed her options, measured them on the scale of pros and cons. To go with him, out of this room. To refuse, stay here, with no promise of escape. It was the confinement that was hardest. She would go. She would risk it. What did she have to lose?
“You take me, I’ll go.”
He looked at her, then shook his head. “Can’t do it. I have to wait. Surely I’ll get the money.”
Sadie felt the desperation assail her, became fueled by it, burst out, “But if you don’t even know if your … your boss is trying to contact the men who have Paris … the horse, then how is this thing ever going to come to an end?”
She was crying, then sniveling, pleading, groveling at his feet.
“Just please take me home. Get me out of here. I’ve done nothing wrong except own a palomino horse. Supposing I was your daughter? Your son?”
In the end, the fat man hardened his heart, became harsh, adamant, refusing to budge or listen to her cries. She knew without looking at him when she heard him heave himself from the chair, open the door, turn the key in the lock, and leave.
It was the large sum of money. Her despair felt like a heavy backpack that wore down her resolve, her hope, her courage. There was truly nothing left. They would let her die in this room.
Well, she wasn’t going to die. She had too much to live for. Mark. She pictured him. Tall, dark hair tumbling over his forehead, a new line of dark hair appearing along his jawbone, growing the beard in the Amish style of the married man, so handsome, so gentle. How she loved him! And she had Mam, Dat, Reuben, her sisters, Dorothy. No, she would not give up.
Eyeing the bedspread, the towels, estimating a sheet’s length, she sat on the beige sofa and planned. As her thoughts were fueled by a shot of adrenaline, she formed a plan. It was absolutely doable. Yes, it was. The hardest part was determining how to secure the end of the rope of sheets firmly enough to hold her weight. The door? The bed? The doorknob? Would it hold? Oh, dear God, help me.
As night fell, she knew it was this night or never. To pass time, she took a long hot bath, shampooed her hair, hung up the towels, rinsed the tub and bowl of the vanity. She straightened the cushions on the beige sofa, then found extra sheets, towels, whatever she could knot together to form a rope of sorts.
With her teeth, she gnawed
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