Rain Shadow by Catherine Madera Page A

dirty. All that time in California had made her soft, citified. She remembered suddenly that as a child she’d loved the outdoors: collecting bugs, building forts, playing with animals, and being in the action. She’d pulled back over the last two years, stayed inside and avoided engaging too deeply with anyone or anything, her skin turning pale and sensitive as she cocooned in her own thoughts.
    Protect, that’s what Taylor had tried to do for her body. It seemed the least she could do. But instead of getting stronger, she’d felt more and more vulnerable. Like the callous that builds up on the soles of tender feet exposed to sun and different textures, a person needed to risk to become strong and healthy. Since Rain had come into her life she had felt the pull to engage in life again.
    Rain…. Why was a strange man touching her ? Taylor’s steps quickened as she approached the trailer. A man stood by Rain’s side, stroking her shoulder. He seemed to be talking to the horse but Taylor couldn’t hear any words. She cleared her throat.
    “What do you call her?” The man glanced up briefly but kept his attention on the horse.
    “Rain.”
    “Rain?”
    The man made an effort to enunciate the word clearly, considering the choice. He furrowed his brow and ran long fingers through a thick mop of wavy brown hair. Taylor looked him up and down. With his longish hair he could be a hippy, but the high tech riding gear suggested something different. An athlete. She noted his riding tights, half- chaps over hikers meant for the stirrup, and Patagonia vest . Note to self: Buy a vest of some sort . A multi-tool snuggled at his hip, clipped to the belt. This guy knew horses and liked to be active. He watched her with probing hazel eyes.
    “ I lik e Rain.” Taylor crossed her arms. “Why else would I live in this part of the country.”
    “Good point,” the man chuckled and stuck out his hand. “Jacob Wilson.”
    “Taylor.”
    She ignored his hand and pretended to adjust Rain’s headstall, pulling the mare close. Jacob looked disappointed. He ran his hand once more down the crest of Rain’s neck and over her shoulder.
    “Well, Taylor,” Jacob seemed to be committing her name to memory, “I’ll always have my own name for this horse—Belissima.” He smiled, “Enjoy your ride.”
    Taylor did not answer . Move away from the horse, you weird cute guy.
     
    ~  ~~
     
    “My ass is killing me.” Taylor maneuvered Rain next to Toby, Liz’s rangy bay gelding. The horses made their way, unguided, to the horse trailer.
    “What do you want, a medal for completing the ride or something?”
    “How about at least a winning poker hand? I needed to win that Carhartt vest. Would help me fit in with the natives.” Taylor glanced back at a large circle of riders eating an after-ride lunch of chili and hot dogs. At least half wore a vest of some kind.
    “That was barely ten miles. Get yourself in shape and I’ll take you on a real ride.” Liz pulled Toby up by the trailer and dismounted. She swayed for a moment and grasped the horn to steady herself.
    “You knew most of the riders today.”
    It was a statement more than a question. Though Liz kept to herself and avoided company on the trail, it seemed every person at the poker rider acknowledged her in some way. Though she hated herself for thinking it, Taylor wondered if it was because of Liz’s handicap, like the way one felt compelled to say hello to the guy in the wheelchair at Wal-Mart who greeted incoming shoppers.
    “I like horses because they do not feel sorry for me.”
    Taylor suddenly understood why Liz was always alone, why she shunned company or needless conversation.
    “I know some of them.” Liz pulled the latigo free. She lined her weak side up to  Toby’s shoulder and shimmied the saddle off his back, guiding it to the ground to avoid having to heft the full weight herself.
    “Do you know Jacob Wilson?”
    Liz looked sharply at Taylor. “Everyone know