Drops of Rain
First Drop
In an Alley
Crossing bare feet, one atop the other, all of him disappeared into the small tuck between the barrel and adobe wall. Pulling his arms into the sleeves of the dusty peasant shirt, he lowered his head onto scarred knees to hide his face. His ears remained alert.
Carrying from the street along his alley, "Where'd he go?" joined voices of children, most older than him, chattering in their native Spanish.
"Keep looking. That mestizo bastardo needs his insulting tongue ripped out."
An unexpected boom of thunder caused Juanito to jump. A deluge followed.
He held his place until the malicious streets emptied with the downpour. Water poured from the overhang of the tiled roof, thudding dully against the ground. He paused under the steady stream, cleansing him of caked dirt.
A rapturous smile lit his brilliant blue eyes.
For a moment, the rain, and the streets, belonged only to him.
Second Drop
Showers
Shaking his head sending water droplets in a haphazard ring around him, his extended hand offered a wet bar of soap.
"Your turn."
"Go to hell, Madrid."
"Expect so, Crawford, but I'll smell good when I get there."
A grunt accompanied the snatching of the soap. Using his damp shirt, Johnny wiped his face before tossing it and his calzoneras near his sodden boots by the fire. Big enough to get the horses out of the torrents expected to fall for hours, the cave was small enough to warm quickly.
"Save me from snot-nosed pardners too big for their britches," Val's voice drifted over the constant splashing outside.
Stripping off his soggy longjohns, languidly naked, Johnny lost himself, the flames drying his tingling skin. Closed eyes allowed weariness from a long day running from another cursed town to settle over him.
Sighing, at least he felt clean for a spell.
Third Drop
No Sense at All
"Don't ya have 'nuff sense to come in outta the rain! Git inside afor ya catch yer death!" Jelly waved his arms as he splattered mud while weaving along the pathway just off of the portico, shouting to be heard over the driving rain.
"Would you like to remind him that Dewdrop is, in fact, a common waterfowl?" Scott tilted his head toward his brother as they observed from the open French doors.
"Nope. You?" Johnny crossed his arms, glancing over at his elder sibling.
A blond eyebrow rose in contemplative silence before he shook his head in response.
Both side-stepped slightly allowing Murdoch to move into the doorway beside them.
"Hmph," he rumbled, watching the goose, wings flapping, scurrying just out of reach of the frantic handyman.
"Drink?"
Fourth Drop
Rain Falls
His senses opened slowly like they didn't really care to know what was transpiring around him.
Wet. Soaked to the bone wet. And cold. Shivering too hard to stop cold.
Steady clatter of drops of water hitting more water.
Rain. Must be. Caught in a downpour then.
Dark. Not a streak of gray snuck through his closed eyelids. He had neither the want nor need to open 'em. And see what? Sky covered up by stormclouds? Must be night. Nothing to see anyhow.
His head hurt something fierce. Somehow the rain was bouncing up from under his chin into his face. But he was sitting up.
Leaning against something soft. Almost like sun on his back. Was that warm breath hitching against his cheek? Ragged. Must be the wind blowing.
He leaned back into it. The softness. The warmth. Felt he could let go for a while.
Just let it rain.
Last Drop
A brief look — 150 words brief — at the remarkable character of rain as shared during the Lancer Writer's 2829 Days of Rain Challenge. Now about those 150 words: this was Leap Year and this story fell on Feb 29, 2024. Extra day. Extra words. So dunk me.
xXxXx
After the Rain
Johnny yanked off his boot then balanced on the other foot as he tugged the worn sock away and stuffed it inside. Stepping his bare foot onto the cool mud, he repeated himself.
"What are you doing?" a raised, blonde eyebrow accompanied the query.
"Showing ya how it's done. Get to it, Brother."
Scott tilted his head before looking skyward. "Well, perhaps you should exert some patience and settle here a bit longer. The deluge has stopped but the rain hasn't. And neither has the aftermath." He waved a gloved hand toward the rivulet of running water racing downhill from their hastily claimed shelter beneath the tree grove into the quickly rising pond. "May simply be the proverbial calm before even more storms."
Ignoring his brother, Johnny unbuckled his gunbelt and looped it with his hat over Barranca's pommel. The horse pawed at the muddied ground, nudging his rider. Scott crossed his arms considering the soft rain he hoped marked the end of the stormfront that had left them adrift in puddles.
"C'mon, Scott," Johnny cajoled. "Get 'em off. Don't want the stirrups caked in mud, do ya?" Gotta enough to clean when we get home."
"Guess not," Scott sighed and finally imitated his brother, removing his mucky footwear. After depositing his holster on his saddle, he asked, "Rinsing off our boots in the pond?"
"Eventually," Johnny replied just as he shoved Scott into the gully gushing with fast-moving water then whirled and whooped as it carried him to splash into the pond with an impressive spray several feet into the air.
"JOHNNY!"
Scott's eyes were filled with fury or at least his brother assumed they were. Sitting neck deep in water, his wet hair drooped over his face with droplets from the tips joining the gentle rain splattering the pond.
"Woo-hee, Scott," Johnny clapped his hands with delight. "I should tell ya, the thunder done moved along but the cloud in your face looks about ready to burst."
"Just wait until I get back up there!" Scott shouted up the hill as he floundered his way to his feet. "You only wish this storm was over, Johnny!"
"Nah, Scott. I don't need any wishes," Johnny murmured quietly as Barranca's ears twizzled in his direction, "I got ever'thin' I ever wished for right here."
His smile filled the sky as he yelled back, "Don't move!"
With another whoop, Johnny dove headfirst into the stream and sailed downward.
"On my way, Brother!"
Feb. 29, 2024