Read Online Rain Dance by Terri Farley - Free Book Online Page A

each thunderclap and sizzle of lightning, she jerked awake.
    â€œIt’s not that close,” Sam whispered to the mare.
    Then, to comfort herself, she used the little formula Gram had taught her.
    With the next flash of lightning, she countedslowly. “One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five—”
    Boom!
    According to Gram, each time you got to five thousand, the lightning was one mile away. As Sam considered what that meant, she swallowed hard. And another boom sounded.
    To cover the furious sounds outside, Sam sang. She tried cowboy songs, but every one she could remember was depressing. “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie” wasn’t what a mustang wanted to hear. Neither was “The Streets of Laredo,” though a cowboy, not a horse, lay dying in that song.
    Weren’t there any cheerful cowboy songs? Wait, maybe she had one.
    â€œOh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’ Clementine, you are lost and gone forever…”
    No. Definitely not.
    â€œSorry, girl,” Sam apologized as Sunny launched herself back to her feet.
    Sam wanted to call Mrs. Coley, but why should she? Sunny was behaving exactly as Dad, Dr. Scott, and the books said she should.
    More restless than pained, Sunny kept moving around, trying to stay comfortable as the foal positioned itself for birth.
    All at once, Blaze bounced to his feet. In the same instant, Sam felt the hair on her arms lift as if she’d taken off a staticky sweater. Then, the air turnedblue, the barn shuddered, and— boom !
    Sam’s ears ached as if she’d been thrust to the bottom of a swimming pool.
    Sunny’s eyes rolled white. She braced her legs and neighed. Outside, Amigo, Popcorn, and Sweetheart answered with frightened calls.
    Sam swallowed the scream in her own throat.
    Get a grip, she told herself. It was a lightning strike and a thunderclap. Close. That’s all.
    Once the sounds had rolled into silence, Sunny’s fear appeared to vanish. Her attention turned inward again. She had her foal to think about.
    But what had caused that blue flash? Lightning hitting the house? The bunkhouse? A cottonwood tree that would flare into flame and set everything else on fire?
    Sam peered cautiously from the barn doorway and Blaze leaned against her legs. Sparks gnawed along the power lines, bright as Fourth of July fireworks. But not for long. As she watched, the electrical fire sputtered, then disappeared, extinguished by the rain.
    â€œIt’s okay,” she told Blaze. “The power’s already out and now the fire is, too.”
    Sam had only taken a couple of steps away from the barn door when another thought popped into her mind. What if that wasn’t a power pole?
    She stared at it again. How could she tell the difference between a power pole and a telephone pole?
    It didn’t matter, she told herself. She either hadtelephone service or she didn’t. Running to the house to check would make no difference.
    None.
    But she had to know.
    Sunny was flicking her tail and stamping her hind hooves as if she wanted to kick.
    â€œI’ll be right back, Sunny,” Sam promised. “I won’t stop for anything. I’ll pick up the telephone, listen, and hang up. I promise.”
    The mare didn’t care. Her eyes were wide but her attention was turned inward.
    Sam ran. She splashed through the puddles. She felt exposed, as if a lightning bolt were aimed right between her shoulder blades.
    I’m halfway safe, she thought as she clattered up the front porch steps and into the kitchen. Crossing every finger, she closed her eyes and lifted the receiver.
    Nothing.
    She replaced the receiver and lifted it again. Still no dial tone. It had been a telephone pole. There was no way to summon help.
    Run. Responsibility crashed down on her, and each drop of rain told her to hurry. Dark Sunshine had no one to count on now except for her.
    Sam burst back into the