Rain Shadow by Catherine Madera

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.”
     
     
    
     

     
     
    Chapter 8
     
     
     
    T
    aylor heard the rumble of the F350 well before it turned onto the gravel driveway. She watched Liz maneuver the big rig around the small parking area between the two houses. Liz needed no extra time to correct over-steering. She smoothly pulled up and backed a three-horse trailer around behind Rowan’s house. From her porch, Taylor saw her park next to the small lean-to and turn off the engine. The sun had so far been unable to penetrate a grey, opaque sky and a fine mist made every exposed surface moist. Taylor eased into a light jacket and pulled on a new pair of rubber boots. She jogged to meet Liz.
    “How do you like my fence?” She pointed proudly at the length of hotwire that encircled a one-acre pasture. “I called in sick to the office and Rowan helped me. She already had posts up from when she had a herd of goats.”
    Liz shrugged, “Looks good enough. Long as it’s hot.” She limped toward the back of the trailer to unlock the door. Taylor noticed she looked stiffer than usual but decided against saying so. Instead, she peeked through the narrow open vents along the trailer sides.
    “Hi, pretty girl.”
    Rain shifted inside and gave a low rumbling nicker.
    “Go ahead and reach through and unhook her. I’ll get her out.”
    Taylor did as she was told and watched Liz back the mare slowly from the trailer. She handed her the lead rope. “Your horse.”
    Taylor stroked Rain’s neck as the horse flagged her tail and snorted with excitement. “I hope you’ll like it here, Rain.”
    Rowan had opened the door and Taylor watched her approach. They’d be a trio of single country ladies: a tree woman, a one-eyed horse, and a basket case. Perfect.
    “Oh, she is a beauty.” Rowan laced her leathery fingers together and her face crinkled into a smile. “A lovely lady she is, Taylor, just like you.”
    “Her face is kinda messed up, but that’s not her fault.”
    Rowan studied the mare. “We are all wounded spirits. That doesn’t eliminate our beauty. Rain has a most beautiful spirit.”
    “Yes,” Taylor sighed happily, “yes, she does.”
    “Quit yapping and come help me with this hay.” Liz’s sharp voice broke the spell Rowan always seemed to cast over a conversation.
    “Thanks, Rowan; thank you so much for letting me keep Rain here.”
    Rowan simply smiled, lost to her inner Zen, so Taylor hurried the mare into the pasture and took off her halter. Then she jumped into the bed of Liz’s truck and began removing ten bales of grass hay. She stacked them in the lean-to next to a meager collection of horse supplies: a lead rope and halter, two brushes, a hoof pick, and one bucket. Liz had offered to feed Rain for