Rain Shadow (6 page)

Taylor bowed her head. “I am your humble apprentice.”

Melissa laughed again, husky and contagious. Taylor smiled back. The girl was weird, no doubt, but maybe they’d find a way to get along.

Before she left that first day Melissa had thrust a white bag of beans in her face. “We’ll break you in with a light roast Columbian coffee, virgin that you are.” She also grabbed a small grinder and gave it to Taylor. “Until you get your own. Fresh ground is the only way to go.”

Now Taylor considered the grinder on her kitchen counter. Seeing as coffee drinking was not a choice, she’d best get started right away. She measured half a cup of beans and pushed the button. At least the smell was good—rich and roasty. Once the coffee was brewed, Taylor doctored it with plenty of cream and sugar and sat in front of her mother’s laptop. She flicked the machine on and watched the screen load with images. A smartly dressed brunette popped up promising, “In only 12 weeks, without quitting my job, I got my real estate license.”

Instead of real estate, Taylor could only think of Rain and wonder if the mare would still be at the shelter when she returned on Sunday. She fought the urge to call Liz and ask her not to adopt the horse out until she had a chance to say goodbye. But how could she explain that? She’d seen the horse only twice. Hardly enough time to become attached.

Yet, listening to Liz talk to prospective adoptive owners the previous week had stirred Taylor’s emotions. She felt protective of the mare. Especially when the visitor commented about Rain’s appearance. It had been all Taylor could do not to stomp outside and punch the woman in the face. Fortunately, Liz had taken care of the situation. Through the small open window in the back door Taylor had watched and heard the entire conversation.

“She’s a little coarse. Arabians should have some refinement, especially in the head.”

Taylor watched the heavy-set blond stand back and regard Rain with a horseman’s trained eye. Rain stood quietly, unaware her life was up for grabs.

“This mare survived a gunshot woun
d
to the hea
d
.”

Taylor watched Liz hitch up her bad side and move toward Rain. She hadn’t known the woman long, but one look at her twitching face and Taylor knew she was agitated.

“You said on the phone you were looking for a gentle mare for a pasture companion. Not a show horse.”

“I am. For my stud. I’d like a foal from him. This mare is a bit clunky for my taste, but the stud should help with that. Perhaps she’ll do … ” The woman walked around Rain in a circle, evaluating her legs and hind end. “She does have great legs and hooves.”

Liz laid a hand on Rain’s back. Taylor watched her hitch up her leg once, twice, three times. “We have another interested party coming to see this horse. My job is to ensure she gets the best home possible.”

“Let me know, then. I’ll take her off your hands.” The woman adjusted
the position of a broad belt buckle that held back multiple rolls of flesh at her waistline. Taylor imagined Rain sagging under the sheer mass of the woman.

“Will do.”

Liz continued to stand at Rain’s side, hand lingering on the mare’s back. She did not say goodbye and made no effort to help the visitor out of the round pen. Taylor wanted to sprint outside and give her a bear hug. 

She considered the “interested party” Liz referred to. Would they tire of Rain, discard her again? What if they didn’t feed her properly
and she starved to death? Dark scenarios played over and over in Taylor’s
mind as she tried to focus on the computer screen and textbook open in front of her. Perhaps the shelter could keep the horse permanently, like a mascot. They could organize educational tours for people—school children, maybe—and talk about the danger of guns.
Or, the challenges of living with only one eye. Her mind groped at possibilities.
Perhaps the mare could give rides around the property. Yes, why couldn’t that work?  She’d talk to Liz about it at her next shift. If Rain was still there.



Chapter 7

O

n the drive to the shelter the next Sunday, Taylor silently practiced her speech to Liz while soaking in the view outside.  Thick fog hovered over the farm fields as if sent from heaven to help the last crops of the summer retain the earth’s waning heat. Like a down comforter, Taylor thought, thick and cozy. In the distance the granite spires of The Twin Sisters jutted into the sky, the outline so clear and clean it looked like a fake background someone could slide in and out at will.  Below the peaks, evergreen forested hills undulated across the valley floor.

Despite patches of clear cut, the scene retained a wildness that resisted
domestication. As she drove, Taylor focused on the long swags of power lines held by massive poles that looked like iron giants, their huge shoulders bearing the full weight of human civilization. Though the giants, metal fists clenched around necessity, were imposing they were no match for the army of trees below that stretched as far as the eye could see. After the concrete jungle of California, the strength of the natural world before her was inspiring.

A strange truck was parked in front of the shelter when Taylor pulled into the parking lot. She glanced at her watch. Nobody but employees and volunteers should be at an animal shelter at 8:45 on a Sunday. Her heart beat faster and she nearly ran to the paddock in the back. It was empty. Taylor stopped short at the narrow gravel pathway leading to the paddock gate and stared at the enclosure. Her arms hung limply at her side.

“Morning.”

Liz hobbled around the side of the building. Curly, one of the hound-mix pups, pranced at the end of a leash.

“You gave Rain to that woman?”

Taylor gritted her teeth to keep back her emotions. She would feign a migraine and beg off helping today. She could not deal with an empty paddock, and that was that.

“I’m insulted you think I would do such a thing.” Liz bunched her eyebrows together. “Go look in the shelter. She’s eating her hay in there today. Ground’s been getting muddy so we’re putting it up in the feeder now.”

“Oh.” Taylor exhaled and offered a smile. “I’m sorry to insult you … I was just worried about her. What are you doing with Curly?”

“If it’s okay wit
h
yo
u
, Larry and Curly have a new home. Owners had to come early. Larry is already in the truck.” Liz jerked her head toward the front of the building. “You could give Mo a little extra love. He’s going to be lonely without his brothers.”

“I will. After I see Rain for a minute.”

Liz said nothing. Taylor watched her shake her head as she hobbled away with Curly.

“Rain.” She spoke softly as she entered the paddock.

A white head poked out of the shelter and the horse nickered a
greeting, stalks of hay clinging to the whiskers on her chin. Taylor approached
and stroked the mare’s neck. She listened to her chew and snuffle inside the feeder, searching for the best pieces of hay. The sound was overwhelmingly peaceful. Pushing the anxiety down, Taylor breathed deeply in and out. Today would be a good day. And it would start with ensuring Rain’s safe keeping at the shelter.

“We’ll figure something out girl, don’t worry. I won’t let you become
entertainment for somebody’s stud. I don’t care how cute he is.” She gave the horse a gentle pat and left her to breakfast.

Liz was just saying goodbye to a tall, thin man with sandy hair. In the back of the pickup, Taylor could hear the confused baying of Larry and Curly from inside a large crate.

“They’ll have a good home,” Liz nodded her head, satisfied. “The man’s a hunter and doesn’t mind that the dogs aren’t purebred.”

“Great. Um, Liz, I wanted to talk to you about something … ” Taylor shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Liz made her way to the desk and sat down. “What is it?” She didn’t make eye contact, but instead took a sip from a mug of coffee.

“It’s about Rain. I’ve been thinking we could keep her as a mascot … I could come up with a program for kids that is … educational. They could ride her. It might draw people in here and we could get more, you know, donations and interest and stuff. Maybe even adopt out more dogs and cats.” Taylor knew she was rambling but couldn’t stop herself. The words tumbled out as Liz sipped her drink in silence. “I mean, a one-eyed horse is different and i
t
i
s
amazing she survived being shot. What about gun safety awareness?” Taylor forced herself to stop. She took a deep breath and waited for Liz to comment.

“The animals here need a person who will love and care for them long-term. A real home.” Liz spoke slowly and with conviction, but her tone was kind.

For the first time, Taylor recognized something in the odd woman’s features—deep compassion. It shone in her sharp blue eyes, as distinct as the Twin Sister’s outline against a backdrop of open sky. A moment
later the look disappeared, replaced with her usual efficiency and detachment.

“We could never offer riding here, Taylor. Do you have any idea how expensive insurance for that would be? We aren’t set up to offe
r
awarenes
s
education, about anything.  But especially about firearms.
The sheriff’s department already offers gun safety classes. Anyway, in Rain’s
case there was no accident. Someone intended to kill her. Period.”

“I just,” Taylor scrambled for something else to add, to build her case.  “I’m worried about her. Rain doesn’t need to be any baby factory for someone.” Her voice rose and cracked. “Didn’t you say you have another ‘interested party’? What d
o
the
y
want to use her for? Aren’t you worried about that?”

“I do have an interested party. And I told you I would never let her go to that ignoramus that came in here the other day. Believe me.”

“Who is this interested party, then?”

Taylor knew she sounded demanding in a situation where she had no right, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except fulfilling her promise to a wounded grey mare.

“The interested party i
s
yo
u
.”
Liz’s voice was quiet again, her features momentarily at peace.

Taylor’s
mouth dropped open. For several seconds the women stared at each other.

“I … why would you say that?” Even as she asked the question, Taylor knew why. And she knew that the horse, for reasons that made no sense at all, was meant to be hers. Relief and inexplicable joy swelled inside.

“Because I jus
t
know
.
” Liz nodded her head. “Don’t you live out in the county? Do you have room for a horse?”

“I don’t know … I mean, yes, there is a small pasture, but I rent. I’d have to ask my landlady. She might say No.”

Taylor felt giddy and confused with the possibilities
.
She might say no. Then what
?
Not only that, what would her mother say? And her father? He was paying the rent for six months so she could get on her
feet. Feeding and caring for a thousand pound farm animal wasn’t included
in that. It all made no sense. At the same time, Taylor felt she would do anything, say anything, to have Rain.

“I’ve never owned a horse, Liz. I don’t really know how to feed them and I haven’t ridden in a long time. Only pony camps during the summer. I probably can’t remember how to put a saddle on. Not that I even have one.” The details of the situation dawned on her, overwhelming and impossible.

“You were sitting her pretty well the other day wit
h
n
o
saddle.”

“Yeah, but that was just … I don’t know.”

“Look, I’m not going to force the horse on you.” Liz downed the last of the coffee. “I just see something there for the two of you. I can teach you what you need to know about horse care and even give you a few basic riding lessons, if you want. Just figure out the housing situation. We’ll go from there.”

“You ride?”

“Surprised?”

Taylor scrambled for a politically correct reply
—
You look differently-abled
?
She decided to just be honest. “Yeah, a little. I thought, well, you look … ”

“Handicapped?” Liz interrupted. She drew out the word, emphasizing syllables. A dangerous smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Oh
,
I rid
e
. Toby and I compete in competitive trail and I have my sights on my first 50-mile endurance ride in the spring. I would leave you in the dust.”

Taylor watched Liz’s thin lips form the word ‘dust.’ She suddenly felt humble. “When did you start riding?”

“At the age of eight.” Liz’s features began to twitch, double-time. “I love horses; they never feel sorry for me.”