We finish loading and step back, taking in the trailer together. It looks right. Ready. The sight settles something in me I hadn't realized was off.
A gust of wind hits the barn hard enough to rattle the loose tin along the roof. Somewhere down the line, a gate slams. A horse squeals, sharp and high, followed by the hollow bang of metal.
Hazel turns her head toward the sound at the same time I do.
"That's not good," she says.
I'm already moving. "The pasture gate."
The first drops of rain hit the dirt as we reach the barn doors, big and cold, leaving dark spots that spread fast. The air shifts, heavy and electric.
Then I see him.
The colt. Out in the pasture, head high, already agitated. The gate swings wide behind him, one hinge torn loose, chain dangling.
"Shit," I breathe.
"He's loose," Hazel says, already moving.
The rain doesn't ease in. It comes down hard.
Fat drops turn the dirt slick in seconds, the air cooling fast. Wind whips through the yard, and thunder cracks overhead like a gunshot.
The colt bolts.
He runs the fence line, panicked, whites of his eyes flashing. Another crack of thunder and he spins, hooves sliding in the mud.
"He's going to hurt himself," Hazel shouts over the wind.
"I know."
We break into a run, boots skidding as mud grabs at the soles. Rain slants sideways now, stinging my face, plastering my shirt to my back. The colt is at the far end of the pasture, spinning in tight circles, fear taking over.
"Spread out," I call to Hazel. "We need to corner him toward the gate."
She nods, already angling left. No hesitation. Just moving.
The rain pounds harder. Wind screams. The colt tosses his head, nostrils flaring, trying to decide which way to run.
"Easy," I say, voice low and steady despite the chaos. "Easy, boy."
He doesn't believe me.
He lunges right, toward the fence. I cut him off, arms wide. He spins back toward Hazel.
She stands her ground, calm, hands out. "Hey. I've got you."
The colt dances in place, trapped between us, sides heaving.
"Slow," I say to Hazel. "We move together."
We close in, step by step. The colt's ears flick back and forth, calculating. Thunder cracks again and he rears, forelegs striking air.
"Shit—"
Hazel moves without thinking, closing the distance fast, and grabs for the halter still on his head. The lead rope dangles, soaked and heavy. She catches it.
The colt jerks hard, nearly pulling her off her feet.
