A Handful of Rain?

By Pamela Love

“Susannah Carey, did you hear a word I said?” Miss Jessup rapped a cane on her cabin’s floor. “Pay attention!”

A glowing coal skidded out of my tongs, landing back in the fireplace. Sparks flew, hot as my cheeks. Truth is, I hadn’t been listening. I was hurrying too much.

That morning, my family had awoken to find cold ashes on our own fireplace—my fault for not banking the coals properly the night before to keep them warm. Since we were out of matches, starting a new fire would take quite a while.

Ma frowned at the sky, then me. “We’ll need an early start to get to town and back before the storm. Go ask Miss Jessup for some coals.”

Ashamed for failing at my chore, I grabbed the lidded pan and ran to Miss Jessup’s. She was our closest neighbor since we’d come West. She lived alone and naturally liked company, and yet I’d forgotten to be mannerly to the woman doing me a favor.

“Beg pardon, ma’am.”

Then I did remember something she’d said, something odd. “You’re lending me a handful of rain?”

Miss Jessup sighed. “No, dear, I’m giving it to you. Mark my words, you’ll be needing it later. Now run along.”

Closing her eyes, she muttered something about needing to rest a spell, so I let myself out.

Gathering clouds showed that by sunset I’d have far more than a “handful” of rain. I shrugged. Likely it’s some old saying, like raining cats and dogs.        

Breathless when I returned home, I was glad to see the borrowed coals were still bright. Soon, the kettle was whistling above our new fire. After breakfast, Pa hitched up Star and Sam to take Ma, Winston, and me to town.

We had little money, so shopping didn’t take long before we headed back home, Pa and Ma on the seat up front, and me on the floor of the wagon with my little brother. Winston was almost three and still got tuckered out easily. He was yawning too hard to laugh at the prairie dogs popping up from their holes. By the time we reached our homestead, he was curled up, fast asleep.

“Let’s unpack before taking Winston out,” Ma said. “Rain won’t start for a while.”

Pa set down the horses’ reins, swung a heavy sack over his shoulder, and carried it to the barn. Ma and I headed to the cabin with the smaller packages.

Boom!       

That thunderclap scared me near out of my skin. Half-shrieking, the horses reared and tore off across the prairie like wild mustangs.

With Winston still in the wagon.

Ma screamed. Pa came running. “What’s wrong?”

Ma and I were already chasing the wagon. Winston’s face peeked over the backboard, his eyes wide.

“Hold on!” Ma shouted. “We’re a-coming!”

But nowhere near fast enough. Fear—and more thunder—drove Star and Sam like a whip, jolting the wagon hard over ruts and prairie-dog holes. Helpless, my brother bounced and jerked. One bad bump would throw him out.

I’ve never run faster in my life, but I felt snail-slow as the wagon raced farther away. If only I could— 

Miss Jessup’s words came flooding into my mind, like the rain pouring down my face. “I need a handful of rein!”

I will describe as best I can what happened next.

The world blurred—and not from raindrops. Suddenly, I found myself perched on the wagon seat, reins in my fists. Behind me, poor Winston was wailing for Ma.

That wagon! Felt like riding a bucking bronc. One lurch knocked me half over the edge—too close to those pounding hooves. One slip and I’d go under—

Somehow, I scrambled onto the seat. Bit my tongue, hard.

Spitting out blood—and a word I shouldn’t know—I told Winston to hang on. No time to puzzle out what’s happened. Breathing hard, I set out to stop those runaways.

The brake. It rattled by my feet. Must’ve broken when the horses bolted. Useless.

The reins. I’d never held them before except at a walk beside Pa or Ma. “Whoa!” I pulled back. For all the good that did, I could’ve hollered, “Giddyap!”

Scared right through, I braced my feet and hauled back hard on the right-hand rein. Felt like wrestling a train engine. But moments later, Sam turned right, pulling Star with him.

Rain fell harder now. It got in my eyes, which didn’t help. Still, I kept the horses going in one big circle after another, paying no mind to my aching arms.

The thunder grew softer as the lightning moved off. Little by little, Star and Sam calmed down. They slowed to a trot, then to a walk.

“Whoa,” I repeated, this time tugging on both reins.

Wasn’t long before Pa managed to catch up. “Easy there.” Taking hold of Star’s bridle, he turned both horses towards home. “Susie, you hop down. Better carry your brother. And what happened?”

Pa’s jaw dropped as I explained about Miss Jessup and the handful of rein. “She said I’d be needing it. Then she told me she needed to rest a spell…” Cuddling Winston, I blinked as I thought it over. “Pa, I do believe she really said cast a spell.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After graduating from Bucknell University, Pamela Love worked as a teacher and in marketing before turning to writing. Her science fiction and fantasy stories have appeared in Cricket, Beyond Centauri, and Spaceports & Spidersilk, among other magazines. Her fantasy novel, The Pegasus Potential, is available on Amazon and Smashwords. She is also working on a new fantasy novel.

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