You Put My Finger On The Trigger

Chapter Seven; When It Rains

   Torrential rain sloshed down on Gracie's face, mingling with her tears and diluting the salty taste she was becoming repulsed to after two weeks of nearly steady nightly breakdowns. A brilliant stroke of forked white lightning, covering nearly half of the northern parts of the sky, illuminated the pitch-black stable yard for a wavering moment as her boots splashed through puddle after puddle at a dead run. She found no fear or sense of impending doom as she used to feel as a child. Her heartbeat was steady and strong and there wasn't a trace of adrenaline present. Instead, she found a form of safety in it, as though the sky was reassuring her that even it had to scream sometimes. The darkness, the angry rain and growling booms of thunder seemed a second home to her. A place she belonged to, deep within her heart. A place that matched the torrents of her blackened soul.
  She shoved the barn door open, warmth and a few spooking hooves thudding on the stall mats greeted her, but she paid no mind to any of it, closing the door behind her as quickly as she'd opened it.
  Several nickers sounded out into the barn aisle as sleepy heads gazed over their stall windows. She stopped to pat Diesel and Amigo on her way to Moose's stall, and already her vault of never ending tears was becoming exhausted.
  Slipping the bolt that held the door closed, Gracie silently slipped inside with Moose. She hugged her thick chestnut neck and then started crying all over again. Remaining pressed against Moose's shoulder, she just stood and silently wept, allowing the big red horse's power and strength to seep into her chest and strengthen her within as she had done almost nightly for the past couple weeks. They stood that way for a good while, an equestrian drowning in sorrow and PTSD, and her steed quietly hovering, resilient, silent, and unmoving. To an onlooker it might even appear as though the horse was slightly annoyed with the disturbance in her 3 am routinely snack, and perhaps she was, but as all good companions, she seemed to vaguely understand that she was needed, and a priority will always be a priority. Slowly, but surely, the mare's intense therapeutic power pulsed into the girl, and slowly, but surely, she began to gather her emotions. At last the tears ceased to flow, and after a good few minutes, Gracie disentangled herself from her horse's fiery mane and grabbed a few wisps of it to dry her eyes.
She whispered a calm sincere thank you to Moose before slipping back out and locking the stall door behind her. There was an ache in her heart that Moose couldn't fix this time around, a hollow feeling that somehow seemed as though she were not herself anymore. She was dead, just a living breathing shell that appeared otherwise fine.
  The round pen was calling her, and she didn't quite know why.
Stepping back out into the back rainy night, she noticed the thunder had subsided and the rain while still steady was not pelting and angry like it had been. The storm was leaving, as suddenly as the storm within her was too, as she flourished in her element. The past two and a half weeks since she'd come to the ranch had uncovered a surprising knack for horses, and even though Rylee had cautioned her to be careful not to become too confident in her limited knowledge, she had admitted that she hadn't seen a rider perform that well under such pressure in a good while. The darkness and rain added an aura of sadness that perfectly complimented such an element, and unlike most kids she knew, she felt not a single trace of fear on the pitch black walk to the corral, not even a flashlight to pick her way by.
A fiery snort and whistle combination greeted her as she drew near. Even that could not sway her steady heartbeat, fierce as it sounded. She'd watched Avery and Rylee working Trigger, and she knew good and well that he was more bite than bark, but she felt an odd sense of boldness overcome her and she walked right up to the gate. In the shadowy darkness, she could barely see his trembling outline. He whistled loudly, almost causing her to look around to make sure nobody else had heard. Then his head snaked down and he charged, jaws gaping and ears pinned. Gracie took a step back, again not in fright of any kind. She expected him to hit the gate with an awful racket, but he skidded to a stop when she stepped back, ears suddenly pricked and mouth closed. For some odd reason, he was curious about her. Unsure of what to do next, both girl and horse stood motionless, waiting for somebody to make initiative.
The horse did first. He turned his head back towards his hay bag, then swung it back to her, licking and chewing on nothing. He nickered to her.
Still unsure of the best move in this scenario, Gracie started talking to him in low tones, just saying calming things she used to use to comfort her mother, nothing really important, and perhaps more for her than for the stallion.
He moved a step closer towards the gate, then stretched his neck as far as he could, his nervous breath warming her face. Heart in her throat at the close proximity, Gracie paused for a second then composed herself and started talking low and calmingly again. She knew this was the closest anybody had ever gotten to the giant of a horse. Cautiously, she leaned forward a couple inches. He pulled his head back to his side of the gate, but she persisted by taking a small step forward. He stood unwillingly for a minute or two, gazing awkwardly back at his hay net.
Then he leaned forward again, and nudged her cheek. She continued her flow of mostly nonsensical words by this point, and let him explore her skin with his nose. Slowly, she brought her hand up to her face. The horse froze when he saw what was happening, and for an agonizing moment, Gracie was sure she was going to have to say goodbye to her hand. He put her out of her misery by softly nudging it with his velvety nose, and this time he left it there. She remained still, and continued to talk. Abruptly, he snorted and dropped his head so her hand ran along up to his forehead where she stiffened it against his contented rub. His muscles relaxed and he finally stopped shivering. She smiled through her flow of murmurings, and stepped a little closer to pet his neck. He flinched at her soft touch, but allowed it, and the two stood there, suddenly fast companions brought together by two ugly worlds.
It was a good half hour that they remained there, soaking wet, but perfectly content, before Gracie headed inside, troubles forgotten for the moment as she slipped back into bed at nearly four in the morning to catch two hours of the best sleep she'd had in a long time.