Page 5 of Rainshadow

The woman did not look at Flora when she spoke. “His name is Bane, because he is the bane of my existence.” Flora did not detect a European accent. If anything, it sounded like the woman might be from the American South.

“Oh,” Flora said, laughing quietly. “He seems to respond to you so well.”

The woman looked at her horse appraisingly, as though she wasn’t sure. “I had him brought from the Netherlands four years ago to my house when I lived in England.” She handed Flora the lead rope. “He is a very difficult horse. I’m not looking for someone to train him. I do that myself. But there are days I can’t work with him and he still needs exercise.”

“How many horses do you have?”

The woman sighed. “Only three. Bane, Zeta, who is perfect, and Mars, who is young, still training.”

Flora nodded and clicked her tongue. Bane began to circle them slowly, and the two women turned together so as not to get wrapped in the lead rope.

“How long have you worked with horses?” the woman asked.

“A few years. I took lessons here, then I helped out.”

“So,” the woman said. “Not a professional. A horse girl.”

“I guess,” Flora said, her cheeks burning a little.

“How many hours a week can you work?” Bane started trotting now, faster than Flora wanted him to. She tried to tighten the lead, but it only made him toss his lovely head and kick his back legs.

“Slow him,” the woman said, her voice tightening.

“I’m trying,” Flora said, tugging on the lead like she’d seen the woman do. “Woah, boy. Woah!”

The woman sighed and took the lead just as Bane began to leap and kick, exuberant in his freedom and threatening to jerk Flora down with the lead.

“Slow,” she said, and the horse’s ears perked visibly at the sound of his master’s voice. The woman gathered the lead line into a coil around her arm. “To be perfectly honest, I knew I couldn’t give you the job when you said you were twenty, but I thought it would be… polite, I guess, to give you a chance.”

“Are you saying I’m not getting the job?”

The woman began to lead Bane back toward the stables.

“It’s not personal. This isn’t a good environment for a twenty-year-old girl.”

“But I love it here! It’s the perfect environment for me!” Flora realized her voice was a whine. She hadn’t wanted to sound desperate.

“Whatever you loved isn’t here anymore.”

Flora felt like crying. “I just love horses,” she said pathetically.

The woman sighed and closed her eyes, more out of irritation than sympathy. “I’m sorry you drove out here.”

“I walked,” Flora said, feeling very sorry for herself.

“Well then,” the woman said coldly, “I’m sorry you walked.”

On the walk home, Flora could feel a blister swelling between her toes. She had never felt so much anger and self-pity in her life.

3

That day, and for the days that followed, Flora fell into a deep, unshakable depression. She slept and lay in her bunk until it had a sour, stale-body smell. She tried to read, but she was either so tired the words swam on the page or so angry at herself that her thoughts were like firecrackers, each remembered moment making her cringe.

“You need to do something!” her mother cried. “Why don’t you just ask for your old job back?”

“Why don’t you get a job?” Flora finally snapped.

Her mother got a cold glint in her eye. “You know why,” she spat. “I’m sick, Flora. Thank you for reminding me. I provided for you, didn’t I? Didn’t I stay home with you, ruining my art career? I never dated, never remarried, all for you.”

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