Page 88 of We Redeemed the Rain

Imade ablehsound as my fingers stuck together. How did I manage to get molasses all over the place? A plastic jar of the sticky stuff was on hand in the barn to assist in forcing medicine down a horse’s throat. The animals were coo-coo for the dark, liquid sugar.

I searched the space for something to wipe my hands on. I found a navy blue bandana on the counter by the Chevy truck keys. I smeared my fingers against it then swiped the fabric over the drops on the wooden table top. When I was done, I folded the sticky inside the fabric and left it on the table.

Tag came from the main corridor, into the right hall. “You got it?”

“Got it!” I held up the syringe of medicine for Twinkle Toes. A paste of powder, water, and molasses. I’d watched Tag do this four times now and did it myself this morning. It went fine…besides the molasses everywhere.

He took it with a smile. “You wanna give it to her?”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you do it.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” He dropped the syringe and a few other medicines into a bucket. Then he grabbed the Chevy keysandthe bandana, shoving them into his back pocket.

I opened my mouth to tell him that bandana was disgusting, but he got a call and ended up on the phone for fifteen minutes talking with Penny about Tillie and a few of the horses who had worms.

And I forgot all about the molasses.

Finally, we ended up in pasture four. Two of the horses in this enclosure—Windy Foot and Ginseng—were big huge teddy bears and trotted over to us. A smile pulled into my cheeks because I loved watching Tag’s horses greet him. They went to him like a friend.

And then went straight for the back of his pants.

That’swhen I remembered the molasses. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle an immediate fit of laughter. Didn’t say a word becausethisI had to see.

Windy’s lips grabbed at the back of Tag’s shirt. “Whoa! What’re you doin’?” Tag pushed the huge head back.

Then Ginseng sniffed up and down his back, nuzzling the waistline of his jeans.

Tag muttered, “Move. It’s Twinkle we need, not you.”

Tag took a few steps away and both horses followed him, hot on his heels. Ginseng and Windy found the source of the smell and nibbled at the back of his jeans. He laughed then cussed, shoving Ginseng’s head and turning his backside away from them. “What the hell’s wrong with y’all?”

They were hounds on a trail.

I bent forward, silently howling into my palm as Tag laughed and swatted at their heads. His voice flew out with his laughter. “What the—back up!”

He brushed his hands down his shirt and the front of his jeans. I wheezed in a breath.

“What is wrong with them?” His pitch rose.

I couldn’t breathe. Let alone help him hypothesize. Ginseng and Windy were puffing with excitement and matching his speed, delighted with the new game.

His gaze bounced to me, gray eyes dancing and crazed. “Bea! Is there something on me?!”

“The…” I gasped.

“What?!” He swiped his hands down his butt and turned to look over his shoulder.

“The bandana.”

Right then, Ginseng caught the corner of navy blue and tugged it out of Tag’s pocket. She triumphantly trotted away to feast on her scrap of inedible fabric. Cracking up, Tag jogged after her. “Give that back!” He grabbed it out of her mouth and a loud ripping sound filled the air since Ginseng was loath to give it up.

Tears wet my cheeks.

Tag looked confused until he sniffed it. He rolled his eyes toward me, strode to the fence, and chucked the bandana into the grass on the other side. A grin warred with a frown on his face. “Did you do that onpurpose?”

I sucked a breath. “I swear I didn’t.”

“Sureyou didn’t.”

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