The Horse Whisperer

by Nicholas Evans

  “Why don’t they let him be!” Grace said. “Haven’t they hurt him enough?”

  “He’s got to lie down,” Frank said.

  Pilgrim snorted like a wounded bull. There was foam spewing at his mouth. His flanks were filthy where the sand had stuck to his sweat. Again he fought for a long time. But again it was too much. And at last, slowly, he keeled over on his side and lay his head on the sand and was still.

  It seemed to Annie a total, humiliating surrender.

  She could feel Grace’s body start to shake with sobs. She felt tears well in her own eyes and was powerless to stop them. Grace turned and buried her face in Annie’s chest.

  “Grace!” It was Tom.

  Annie looked up and saw he was standing with Smoky by Pilgrim’s prone body. They looked like two hunters at the carcass of a kill.

  “Grace?” he called again. “Will you come here please?”

  “No! I won’t!”

  He left Smoky and headed toward them. His face was grim, almost unrecognizable, as though he were possessed by some dark or vengeful force. She kept her arms around Grace to shelter her. Tom stopped in front of them.

  “Grace? I’d like you to come with me.”

  “No, I don’t want to.”

  “You’ve got to.”

  “No, you’ll only hurt him some more.”

  “He’s not hurt. He’s okay.”

  “Oh sure!”

  Annie wanted to intervene, to protect her. But so daunting was Tom’s intensity that instead she let him take her daughter from her hands. He gripped the child by her shoulders and made her look at him.

  “You’ve got to do this Grace. Trust me.”

  “Do what?”

  “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  Reluctantly, she let him lead her across the arena. Driven by the same protective urge, Annie climbed unbidden over the rail and followed. She stopped a few yards short, but near enough in case she was needed. Smoky tried a smile but saw right away it was inappropriate. Tom looked at her.

  “It’ll be okay Annie.” She barely nodded.

  “Okay Grace,” Tom said. “I want you to stroke him. I want you to start with his hindquarters and rub him and move his legs and feel him all over.”

  “What’s the point? He’s good as dead.”

  “Just do as I say.”

  Grace walked hesitantly to the horse’s rear. Pilgrim didn’t lift his head from the sand but Annie could see his one eye try to follow her.

  “Okay. Now stroke him. Go on. Start with his leg there. Go on. Waggle it around. That’s it.”

  Grace cried out, “His body feels all dead and limp! What have you done to him?”

  Annie had a sudden vision of Grace in her coma in the hospital.

  “He’ll be okay. Now put your hand on his hip and rub him. Do it Grace. Good.”

  Pilgrim didn’t move. Gradually Grace worked her way along him, smearing the dust on his heaving, sweaty sides, working his limbs to Tom’s instruction. At last she rubbed his neck and the wet, silky side of his head.

  “Okay. Now I want you to stand on him.”

  “What!” Grace looked at him as if he were mad.

  “I want you to stand on him.”

  “No way.”

  “Grace . . .”

  Annie took a step forward. “Tom . . .”

  “Be quiet Annie.” He didn’t even look at her. And now he almost shouted, “Do as I say Grace. Stand on him. Now!”

  It was impossible to disobey. Grace started to cry. He took her hand and led her into the curve of Pilgrim’s belly.

  “Now step up. Go on, step up on him.”

  And she did. And with the tears streaming on her face, she stood frail, like a maimed soul, on the beaten flank of the creature she loved most in all the world and sobbed at her own brutality.

  Tom turned and saw Annie was crying too but he paid no attention and turned back to Grace and told her she could now get down.

  “Why are you doing this?” Annie begged. “It’s so cruel and humiliating.”

  “No, you’re wrong.” He was helping Grace to get down and didn’t look at Annie.

  “What?” Annie said scornfully.

  “You’re wrong. It’s not cruel. He had the choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He turned and looked at her at last. Grace was still crying beside him, but he paid her no heed. Even in her tears, the poor girl seemed as unable as Annie to believe Tom could be like this, so hard and pitiless.

  “He had the choice to go on fighting life or to accept it.”

  “He had no choice.”

  “He did. It was hard as hell, but he could have gone on. Gone on making himself more and more unhappy. But what he chose to do instead was to go to the brink and look beyond. And he saw what was there and he chose to accept it.”

  He turned to Grace and put his hands on her shoulders. “What just happened to him, laying down like that, was the worst thing he could imagine. And you know what? He found out it was okay. Even you standing on him was okay. He saw you meant him no harm. The darkest hour comes before the dawn. That was Pilgrim’s darkest hour and he survived it. Do you understand?”

  Grace was wiping her tears and trying to make sense of it. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think so.”

  Tom turned and looked at Annie and she saw something soft and imploring in his eyes now, something at last that she knew and could latch on to.

  “Annie? Do you understand? It’s real, real important you understand this. Sometimes what seems like surrender isn’t surrender at all. It’s about what’s going on in our hearts. About seeing clearly the way life is and accepting it and being true to it, whatever the pain, because the pain of not being true to it is far, far greater. Annie, I know you understand this.”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes and tried to smile. She knew there was some other message here, one that was only for her. It was not about Pilgrim but about them and what was happening between them. But although she pretended to, she didn’t understand it and could only hope that the time would come when she might.

  Grace watched them undo Pilgrim’s hobble and the ropes tied to his halter and saddle. He lay there a moment, looking up at them with one eye, not moving his head. Then, a little uncertainly, he staggered to his feet. He shrugged and whinnied and blew and then took a few steps to see he was all in one piece.

  Tom told Grace to lead him to the tank at the side of the arena and she stood beside him while he took a good long drink. When he’d finished he lifted his head and yawned and everyone laughed.

  “There go the butterflies!” Joe called.

  Then Tom put the bridle back on and told Grace to put her foot in the stirrup. Pilgrim stood still as a house. Tom took her weight on his shoulder and she swung her leg and sat in the saddle.

  She felt no fear. She walked him first one way around the arena then the other. Then she took him up to a lope and it was fine and collected and smooth as silk.

  It was a while before she realized everyone was cheering, just like they had the day she rode Gonzo.

  But this was Pilgrim. Her Pilgrim. He’d come through. And she could feel him beneath her, like he always used to be, giving and trusting and true.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THE PARTY WAS FRANK’S IDEA. HE SAID HE HAD IT from the horse’s mouth: Pilgrim had told him he wanted a party so a party there would be. He phoned Hank and Hank said he was up for it. What’s more, he said, he had a houseful of bored cousins up from Helena and they were up for it too. By the time they’d called everyone they could think of, it had gone from being a small party to a midsize party to a big one and Diane was having fifty fits wondering how she was going to feed them all.

  “Hell, Diane,” Frank said. “We can’t let Annie and Grace drive two thousand miles home with that old horse of theirs without giving them a good send-off.”

  Diane shrugged and Tom could see her thinking why the hell not?

 
; “And dancing,” Frank said. “We gotta have dancing.”

  “Dancing? Oh come on!”

  Frank asked Tom what he thought and Tom said he thought dancing would be fine. So Frank called Hank again and Hank said he’d bring his sound system over and they could have the colored lights too if they wanted. He was there within the hour and the men and the kids rigged it all up outside the barn while Diane, shamed at last to better humor, drove Annie down to Great Falls to get the food.

  By seven, everything was ready and they all went off to clean up and change.

  As he came out of the shower, Tom caught sight of the blue robe by the door and felt a dull lurching inside him. He thought the robe might still smell of her but when he pressed it to his face it smelled of nothing.

  He hadn’t had a chance to be alone with Annie since Grace came back and he felt their separation like some cruel physical excision. The sight of her tears for Pilgrim had made him want to run to her and hold her. Not being able to touch her was almost more than he could bear.

  He dressed slowly and lingered in his room, listening to the cars arriving and the laughter and the music starting up. When he looked out he saw there was already a crowd. It was a fine clear evening. The lights were finding a glow in the fading light. Clouds of smoke drifted slowly from the barbecue where he should be helping Frank. He searched the faces and found her. She was talking with Hank. She was wearing a dress he hadn’t seen before, dark blue and sleeveless. As he watched, she threw her head back and laughed at something Hank said. Tom thought how beautiful she was. He’d never felt less like laughing in his life.

  She saw him as soon as he stepped out onto the porch. Hank’s wife was going in with a tray of glasses and he held the screen door for her and laughed at something she said as she passed. Then he looked out and found her eyes at once and smiled. She realized that Hank had just asked her a question. “Sorry Hank, what was that?” “I said, I hear you’re headin’ home?” “Yes, afraid so. Packing up tomorrow.” “Can’t tempt you city gals to stay, huh?” Annie laughed, a little too loudly, as she’d been doing all evening. She told herself again to calm down. Across the crowd, she saw Tom had been hijacked by Smoky who wanted to introduce him to some friends.

  “Jeez, that food smells good,” Hank said. “How ‘bout it, Annie, shall we get us some? You jus’ come along with me.”

  She let herself be led, as if she had no will of her own. Hank got her a plate and piled it high with chunks of blackened meat, then flooded it with a dollop of chili beans. Annie felt sick but kept on smiling. She’d already decided what to do.

  She would get Tom on his own—ask him to dance if that’s what it took—and tell him she was going to leave Robert. She would go back to New York next week and break the news. First to Robert and then to Grace.

  Oh God, Tom thought, it’s going to be like last time. The dancing had been going on for over half an hour and every time he tried to get near her either she got waylaid or he did. Just when he thought he was clear, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Diane.

  “Don’t sister-in-laws get to dance?”

  “Diane, I thought you’d never ask.”

  “I knew you never would.”

  He took hold of her and his heart sank a little when the new number turned out to be a slow one. She had on the new red dress she’d bought in L.A. and had tried painting her lips to match but it didn’t quite work. She smelled pungently of perfume with an undertow of booze that he could detect too in her eyes.

  “You look terrific,” he said.

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  It had been a long time since he’d seen Diane drunk. He didn’t know why, but it made him sad. She was pressing her hips into him and arching her’ back so much that if he were to let go of her she’d topple over. She was giving him a kind of knowing, teasing look he neither understood nor much liked.

  “Smoky tells me you didn’t go to Wyoming after all.”

  “He did?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, that’s right, I didn’t. One of the guys down there got sick, so I’m, going next week instead.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “‘Uh-huh.’ Diane, what is this?”

  He knew, of course. And he chided himself for now giving her the chance to say it. He should have just closed the conversation.

  “I just hope you were a good boy, that’s all.”

  “Diane, come on. You’ve had too much to drink.”

  It was a mistake. Her eyes flashed.

  “Have I? Don’t think we haven’t all noticed.”

  “Noticed what?” Another mistake.

  “You know what I’m talking about. You can good as smell the steam rising off the pair of you.”

  He just shook his head and looked away as if she was crazy, but she saw it hit home because she grinned in victory and wagged a finger at him.

  “Good job she’s going home, brother-in-law.”

  They didn’t exchange another word for the rest of the number. And when it was over she gave him that knowing look again and went off, swinging her hips like a hooker. He was still recovering when Annie came up behind him at the bar.

  “Pity it’s not raining,” she whispered.

  “Come and dance with me,” he said. And he took hold of her before anyone else could and steered her off.

  The music was quick and they danced apart, only uncoupling their eyes when the intensity threatehed to overwhelm or betray them. To have her so close and yet so inaccessible was like some exquisite form of torture. After the second number, Frank tried to take her away but Tom made a joke of being the older brother and wouldn’t yield.

  The next number was a slow ballad in which a woman sang about her lover on death row. At last they could get their hands on each other. The touch of her skin and the light press of her body through their clothes almost made him reel and he had for a moment to close his eyes. Somewhere, he knew, Diane would be watching but he didn’t care.

  The dusty dance-floor was crammed. Annie looked about her at the faces and said quietly, “I need to talk to you. How can we get to talk?”

  He felt like saying what is there to talk about? You’re going. That’s all there is to say. Instead he said, “The exercise pool. In twenty minutes. I’ll meet you.”

  She only had time to nod, because the next moment Frank came up again and took her away from him.

  Grace’s head was spinning and it wasn’t just from the two glasses of punch she’d had. She had danced with almost everyone—Tom, Frank, Hank, Smoky, even dear sweet Joe—and the image she’d had of herself was thrilling. She could whirl, she could shimmy, she could even jive. She didn’t once lose her balance. She could do anything. She wished Terri Carlson was here to see it. For the first time in her new life, perhaps even her whole life, she felt beautiful.

  She needed to pee. There was a toilet at the side of the barn but when she got there she found a line of people waiting to use it. She decided no one would mind if she used one of the bathrooms indobrs—she was family enough and after all it was her party, kind of—so she headed for the porch.

  She came through the screen door, instinctively keeping her hand on it so it didn’t slam. As she walked through the narrow L-shaped boot-room that led to the kitchen, she heard voices. Frank and Diane were having a row.

  “You’ve just had too much to drink,” he said.

  “Fuck you.”

  “It’s none of our business, Diane.”

  “She’s had her sights on him ever since she got here. Just take a look out there, she’s like a bitch in heat.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “God, you men are so dumb.”

  There was an angry clatter of dishes. Grace had stopped in her tracks. Just as she decided she’d better go back to the barn and wait in line, she heard Frank’s footsteps heading for the open door to the boot-room. She knew she wouldn’t have time to leave before he saw her. And if he caught her sneaking out he’d know for sur
e she’d been eavesdropping. All she could do was head on in and bump into him as if she’d just come in.

  As Frank appeared in front of her in the doorway, he stopped and turned back to Diane.

  “Anyone’d think you were jealous or something.”

  “Oh give me a break!”

  “Well, you give him a break. He’s a grown man for Christsakes.”

  “And she’s a married woman with a kid, for Christsakes!”

  Frank turned and came into the boot-room, shaking his head. Grace stepped toward him.

  “Hi,” she said brightly. He seemed a lot more than just startled but he recovered instantly and beambed.

  “Hey, it’s the belle of the ball! Howya doing sweetheart?” He put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Oh I’m having a great time. Thanks, for doing it and everything.”

  “Grace it’s a real pleasure, believe me.” He gave her a little kiss on the forehead.

  “Is it okay if I use the bathroom in here? Just that there’s a whole line of—”

  “Course you can! You go right on in.”

  When she went through into the kitchen there was no one there. She heard footsteps going upstairs. Sitting on the toilet, she wondered who it was they’d been arguing about and got a first uneasy inkling that perhaps she knew.

  Annie got there before him and walked slowly around to the far side of the pool. The air smelled of chlorine. The strike of her shoes on the concrete floor echoed in the caverning darkness. She leaned against the whitewashed block wall and felt its soothing cool on her back. A sliver of light was spilling in from the barn and she watched its reflection on the dead calm water of the pool. In the cither world outside, one country song ended and another, barely distinguishable, began.

  It seemed impossible that it was only last night that they’d stood there in the creek house kitchen with no one to trouble them or keep them apart. She wished that she’d said then what she was going to tell him now. She hadn’t trusted herself to find the right words. This morning when she’d woken in his arms, she had been no less sure, even in that same bed which only a week ago she’d shared with her husband. Her only shame was that she felt none. Still however, something had restrained her from telling him; and now she wondered if it was the fear of how he would react.