Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"I don't like the way she's acting. Mick?"

"Okay by me," he said.

Disappointed. I watched him saddle and put the bridle on. Rain kept her eyes on me. Even Mick noticed.

"She knows somethin's up. Jake." he said finally smiling.

When Mick sat in the saddle, she actually bucked. It took Mick by surprise and he nearly spilled. Embarrassed, he pulled up on the reins firmly. She snorted, twisted and pounded the around with her left hoof. Mick turned her and made her trot forward, but she kept stopping, fighting him and trying to turn back toward me.

"I'll be damned," he said.

Jake looked at me and then at Rain. Finally he nodded. "All right. You can take her out." he relented.

Those words would later drive him into the darkness of excessive drink and eventually an early grave.

Happy. I hurried to get into the saddle. The moment I did so. Rain calmed down and waited obediently.

"Make it a short one," Jake instructed. "Just once around the smaller circle, okay?"

"Okay, Jake." We started out. "I'm going to miss you. Rain," I told her as we moved gracefully onto the path. "If I come back to visit, will you remember me?"

Whenever I spoke to her. Rain had a way of rocking her head from side to side as if she really understood. It brought a smile back to my face. I ran my hand through my hair, closed my eyes to feel the wind, and let her have her head. She broke into a run and we were off. As always. I felt like she and I had become one animal, our movements coordinated. We established a graceful rhythm. I was sure that Jake and Mick were smiling and nodding their heads as well. I knew they were watching me longer than they usually did. Jake was still nervous when I had left.

The heavy storm we had the days before had scattered some leaves and twigs over the meadow. Some of the dampness brought out rodents and other creatures excited with the sudden unexpected rebirth of bugs. Just at the foot of the crest where we would either go forward, up and then down to complete what Jake called the smaller circle, the path now forked to the right as well because of the rides I had taken with Rain in that direction. Marking the crossroads was a small scattering of rocks and some dead treetrunks.

Once Mick had told me about keeping an eye out for snakes, especially copperheads.

"They are almost impossible to see anyway," he said. "'because their coloring allows them to blend in, especially with fallen trees. But," he assured me. "like almost all snakes, they are not aggressive. Live and let live is their motto. The problem is horses don't know that. So try to steer clear of places where snakes might house themselves.'"

He meant rocks and logs. Usually. I stayed pretty far to the right or to the left of the markers. but I was distracted myself and in deep thought about my decisions. Normally. Rain would steer clear on her own, but copperheads. as Mick told me in his colorful language, "make their living being practically invisible. They won't move until they have to. You could step right on a copperhhead and not know it."

Rain's hoof did exactly that. Copperheads, especially the young ones, leave their tails out so other animals they pursue as prey will be attracted, thinking the tail is a lizard or something and come close enough for the copperhead to strike. Rain stepped on the tail and the snake spun around. It didn't strike Rain, but the sight of it, put a panic through her that vibrated right up my leas and into my heart.

She bucked and twisted in a frantic effort to stay clear of the snake's thrusting head and the turn she made was so abrupt and sharp. I lost my grip and flew out of the saddle. I don't even remember hitting the ground.

All I remember is a whack on my head and lower back and then, all was dark.

When I opened my eyes again. I was looking up at a bright ceiling fixture in a hospital emergency room. I heard people moving around me, the sound of running water, a pan being placed on a sink counter. A whirl of white uniforms went by before I saw the face of a concerned middle-aged doctor. He had very thin, gray hair and eyes that looked swollen with worry. There was a small red spot on the bridge of his nose, probably made by his reading glasses.

"Hello there," he said

and smiled.

"Where am I?" I whispered. It sounded far away, like a voice in a tunnel.

"You're at the hospital. You had an accident. Can you remember anything about it?" he asked.

I told him as much as I knew. but I felt groggy and nauseated. My body felt distant. too.

"Well, that blow to your head gave you a concussion. It's not a serious one. It will get better." he promised.

He lingered over me, his smile sliding off his face. "I'd like you to lift your left leg for me." he said. "Lift it?"

He nodded and I tried to lift my leg, but I didn't feel anything. Nothing happened.

"Now try your right." he said and I did the same thing. He nodded. "Can you feel that?" he asked.

"What?'