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

barn and pushed her dripping hair away from her face to see Sunny lying on her side, legs straight and stiff. Contractions rippled over her belly.
    â€œI’m here, girl,” she whispered to the mare. “That may not sound like much, but I know everything books and cowboys can teach me, and I love you.”
    As if in response, Sunny half stood. Her front legs trembled with effort and she gave Sam a beseeching stare.
    Then, with a slither and a thud, enclosed in a silvery cover, the foal was born.
    A celebration started in Sam’s head, but she pushed it aside, being sensible.
    Clear the membrane from the foal’s nose, eyes, and mouth. That’s what the book had said. Sam pulled on rubber gloves, but before she could do anything else, a flurry of sound came from the stall.
    She could sort of see through the translucent covering.
    Legs thrashed and a little head flung from side to side. Sunny looked back in amazement as slender, black legs kicked and a tiny, slick body bucked on its side.
    Ten minutes. The books said the foal might try to stand in ten minutes. This time, the books were wrong.
    Free of the silver covering, the storm-born filly struggled to stand.
    Now Sam could see her whole body. She had a tiny dished face and huge, luminous eyes. She was satiny black without a speck of white.
    Sam realized one of her rubber-gloved hands waspressed against her chest, but her heart had already gone out to the filly.
    She’d never seen anything so wonderful. So beautiful.
    Only once , her memory chided.
    And then Sam remembered.
    The tiny black filly looked just like her father.

Chapter Eight
    W ith a whinny that came out as a squeak, the foal tried to wobble to her feet but failed.
    Sunny blinked at the commotion and stared at the foal beside her. The buckskin gave a low nicker. She looked at Sam, then stared into the corner of her stall.
    Sam pressed her lips closed. She’d heard herself breathing hard, as if she’d been running.
    Don’t panic, she told herself. The books said many mares, especially first-time mothers, felt disoriented following their foal’s birth.
    Poor Sunny. Just minutes ago she’d been alone in her stall. Now a shiny black stranger kicked out at all angles and made little fussing noises.
    When Sunny glanced at her again, Sam decided to disappear.
    Mother and foal needed time to bond.
    In the wild, Sunny would have gone away from the herd. Together, she and her foal would have learned everything about each other. Forever after, Sunny would have known the scent and shape of the foal she had to protect and the foal would know which mare to count on for food and protection.
    Sam squatted next to the stall wall and peered through a narrow gap between two boards.
    Exhausted from her struggle to stand, the filly trembled. She looked fragile and defenseless.
    Rain hammered the roof. Outside, Sam could see raindrops pelting the ground.
    The foal was safe and warm in the barn beside her mother, but how would she have survived outside?
    The storm’s moisture made the pine boards smell like Christmas as Sam stared into the stall to see Sunny sniff her foal’s front hooves, then lick her pasterns, then lick as far as her neck would reach, up to the foal’s knobby black knees.
    The filly was so lightweight, she moved with the force of her mother’s tongue, but she seemed to love the attention. When Sunny scooted closer, head extended, the filly mirrored her movements.
    Sunny’s golden nose was shaded with black around her nostrils and lips. When she touched her baby’s muzzle, neither recoiled in surprise. In the lantern light, it was hard to see where one left off and the other began.
    That’s how it should be , Sam thought, then wished the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Would she ever stop missing her own mother? She wanted to stop wishing she could say, “Hey Mom, look.”
    Sunny lowered her head and lipped the filly’s front