Looking at her parents, united side by side before her, Grace felt true contentment. It was as though the final pieces of her fractured jigsaw life were falling back in place. The only space that remained was riding Pilgrim. And that, if all had gone well today at the ranch, would soon be filled too. Until they knew for sure, neither she nor Annie was going to mention it to Robert.
It was a prospect that both thrilled and troubled Grace. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to ride him again but that she knew she must. Since she’d been riding Gonzo, no one seemed to doubt that she would do so—provided, that is, Tom thought it safe. Only she, secretly, had doubts.
They were not to do with fear, at least not in its simple sense. She worried that when the moment came she might feel fear but was fairly sure that if she did, she would at least be able to control it. She worried more however that she might let Pilgrim down. That she wouldn’t be good enough.
Her prosthetic leg was now so tight it gave her constant pain. On the last few miles of the cattle drive it had been almost unbearable. She hadn’t told a soul. When Annie noticed how often now she left the leg off when they were alone, Grace had made light of it. It had been harder to pretend to Terri Carlson. Terri could see how inflamed the stump was and told her she urgently needed a new fitting. The trouble was, nobody out west did this type of prosthetic. The only place it could be done was New York.
Grace was determined to hold out. It would only be a week or two at most. She would just have to hope that the pain wouldn’t distract her too much and make her less good when the moment came.
It was the cusp of evening when they left Route 15 and headed west. Before them the Rocky Front was stacked high with thunderheads which seemed to reach out over the gathering sky toward them.
They drove through Choteau so that Grace could show Robert the dump they’d first lived in and the dinosaur outside the museum. Somehow he’d come to seem neither as big nor as mean as he had when they arrived. Nowadays Grace almost expected him to wink.
By the time they reached the turn off 89, the sky was vaulted with blackening cloud like a ruined church, through which the sun found fitful access. Cruising out along the straight gravel road to the Double Divide, they all fell silent and Grace began to feel nervous. She wanted so much for her father to be impressed by the place. Perhaps Annie felt the same way, because when they came over the ridge and saw the Double Divide open up before them, she stopped the car to let Robert take in the view.
The dust-cloud they had stirred from the road overtook them and drifted slowly ahead, dispersing gold on a stark burst of sun. Some horses grazing down by the cottonwoods that fringed the nearest bend of the creek raised their heads to watch.
“Wow,” Robert said. “Now I know why you guys don’t want to come home.”
TWENTY-NINE
ANNIE HAD BOUGHT THE FOOD FOR THE WEEKEND ON the way to the airport and should, of course, have done it on the way back. Five hours in a hot car had done the salmon no good at all. The supermarket in Butte was the best she’d found since coming to Montana. They even had sun-dried tomatoes and small pots of rooted basil which had wilted badly on the journey home. Annie had watered them and stood them on the windowsill. They might just survive. Which was more than could be said for the salmon. She took it to the sink and ran it under cold water in the hope of washing away the ammonia smell.
The rush of water drowned the constant low rumble of thunder outside. Annie doused the fish’s sides and watched its loosened scales shiver and twirl and disappear with the water. Then she opened its gutted belly and sluiced the blood from its clotted membranous flesh till it glistened a lurid pink. The smell became less pungent, but the feel of the fish’s flaccid body in her hands brought such a wave of nausea that she had to leave the fish on the draining board and go quickly through the screen door out onto the porch.
The air was hot and heavy and brought no relief. It was almost dark, though long before it should be. The clouds were a bilious black veined with yellow and so low they seemed to compress the very earth.
Robert and Grace had been gone almost an hour. Annie had wanted to leave it until morning but Grace had insisted. She wanted to introduce Robert to the Bookers and let him see Pilgrim right away. She hardly gave him time to look inside the house before getting him to drive her down to the ranch. She’d wanted Annie to come along too, but Annie said no, she’d get supper and have it ready for when they got back. Tom meeting Robert was something she’d rather not see. She wouldn’t know where to look. Even the thought of it now made her nausea worse.
She’d bathed and changed into a dress but already felt sticky again. She stepped out onto the porch and filled her lungs with the useless air. Then she walked slowly around to the front of the house where she could look out for them.
She’d seen Tom and Robert and all the kids piling into the Chevy and watched the car go by below her on its way up to the meadows. The angle was such that she could only see Tom in the driver’s seat as they passed. He didn’t look up. He was turned talking to Robert who sat beside him. Annie wondered what he made of him. It was as though she herself were being judged by proxy.
All week Tom had avoided her and although she thought she knew why, she felt his distance like a widening space within her. While Grace was in Choteau seeing Terri Carlson, Annie had waited for him to call as he always did to ask her to go riding,knowing in her heart that he wouldn’t. When she went with Grace to watch him working with Pilgrim, he was so involved he barely seemed to notice her. Afterward, their conversation had been trivial, polite almost.
She wanted to talk to him, to say she was sorry for what had happened, though she wasn’t. At night, alone in her bed, she’d thought of that tender mutual exploring, taking it further in fantasy until her body ached for him. She wanted to say she was sorry simply in case he thought badly of her. But the only chance she’d had was that first evening when he had brought Grace home. And when she’d started to speak he’d cut her off, as if he knew what she was going to say. The look in his eyes as he drove away had almost made her run calling after him.
Annie stood with her arms folded, watching the lightning flicker somewhere above the shrouded mass of the mountains. She could see the headlights of the Chevy now among the trees up by the ford and as they leveled and headed down the track she felt a heavy drop of rain on her shoulder. She looked up and another smacked the center of her forehead and trickled down her face. The air was suddenly cooler and filled with the fresh smell of wet on dust. Annie could see the rain coming down the valley toward her like a wall. She turned and hurried back inside to grill the salmon.
He was a nice guy. What else did Tom expect? He was lively and funny and interesting and, more important, he was interested. Robert leaned forward to squint through the futile arc made by the wipers. They had to shout to make themselves heard through the drumming of the rain on the car’s roof.
“If you don’t like the weather in Montana, wait five minutes,” Robert said. Tom laughed.
“Did Grace tell you that?”
“I read it in my guidebook.”
“Dad’s the ultimate guidebook nerd,” Grace yelled from the back.
“Well thanks sweetie, I love you too.”
Tom smiled. “Yep, well. Sure looks like rain.”
He’d taken them up pretty well as far as you could comfortably go in a car. They’d seen some deer, a hawk or two and then, high on the far side of the valley, a herd of elk. The calves, some no more than a week old, sheltered beside their mothers from the thunder. Robert had brought along some binoculars and they watched for ten minutes or more, the kids all clamoring for their turn. There was a big bull with a wide six-point sweep of antlers and Tom tried bugling to it but got no reply.
“How much would a bull like that weigh?” Robert asked.
“Oh, seven hundred pounds, maybe a little more. Come August his antlers alone could weigh fifty.”
“Ever shoot them?”
“My
brother Frank hunts now and then. Me, I’d sooner see their heads moving about up here than hung on some wall.”
He asked a whole lot more questions on the way home, Grace teasing him all the while. Tom thought of Annie and all her questions when he’d brought her up here those first few times and he wondered if Robert had gotten the habit from her or she from him or whether they were both like that by nature and just suited each other. That must be it, Tom decided. They just suited each other. He tried to think of something else.
Water was torrenting down the track up to the creek house. Around the back, the rain was gushing in spouts from every corner of the roof. Tom said he and Joe would bring the Lariat up from the ranch later on. He pulled up as close as he could to the porch so Robert and Grace wouldn’t get drenched when they got out. Robert got out first. He shut the door and from the backseat Grace asked Tom in a quick whisper how it had gone with Pilgrim. Though they’d been to see the horse earlier, they’d had no time alone to speak.
“It went good. You’ll be okay.”
She beamed from ear to ear and Joe gave her a little gleeful punch on the arm. She had no time to ask more because Robert opened the rear door for her to get out.
It should have occurred to Tom that the rain on the dust at the edge of the porch would have made it slippery. But it didn’t, until Grace stepped out of the car and her feet went from under her. She gave a little cry as she fell. Tom leapt out and ran around the front of the car.
Robert was bent anxiously over her.
“God, Gracie, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She was already trying to get up and seemed more embarrassed than hurt. “Dad, really, I’m fine.”
Annie came running out and nearly fell herself.
“What happened?”
“It’s okay,” Robert said. “She just slipped.”
Joe was out of the car now too, all concerned. They helped Grace to her feet. She winced as she took her own weight. Robert kept his arm around her shoulders.
“Are you sure you’re okay baby?”
“Dad please, don’t make a fuss. I’m fine.”
She limped but tried to hide it as they took her into the house. Fearing they were missing out on the drama, the twins were about to come inside too. Tom stopped them and with a gentle word sent them back to the car. He could see from Grace’s mortified face that it was time to leave.
“See you all in the morning then.”
“Okay,” Robert said. “Thanks for the tour.”
“You’re welcome.”
He winked at Grace and told her to get a good night’s sleep and she smiled bravely and said she would. He steered Joe out through the screen door then turned to say good-night and his eyes met Annie’s. The look between them lasted less than a moment but in it was contained all their hearts would utter.
Tom tipped his hat to them and said good-night.
She knew something had broken as soon as she hit the deck of the porch and in a moment of horror thought it was her own thighbone. Only when she stood up was she certain it wasn’t. She was shaken and, God, so embarrassed but she wasn’t hurt.
It was worse. The sleeve of the prosthetic was cracked from top to bottom.
Grace was sitting on the rim of the bathtub with her blue jeans dropped crumpled around her left ankle and the prosthetic in her hands. The inside of the cracked sleeve was warm and damp and smelled of sweat. Maybe they could glue it or tape it or something. But then she’d have to tell them about it and if it didn’t work there was no way they’d let her ride Pilgrim tomorrow.
After the Bookers left, she’d had to put on a major act to make light of the fell. She’d had to smile and joke and tell her mom and dad at least a dozen more times that she was okay. At last they seemed to believe her. When she thought it safe, she’d claimed the first bath and escaped up here to examine the damage behind closed doors. She could feel the damn thing move on her stump as she walked across the living room and getting up the stairs was really tricky. If she couldn’t even do that with it, how on earth could she ride Pilgrim? Shit! Falling like that was so dumb. She’d gone and spoiled everything.
She sat and thought for a long time. She could hear Robert downstairs talking excitedly about the elk. He was trying to imitate the call Tom had made. It didn’t sound anything like it. She could hear Annie laughing. It was so great to have him here at last. If Grace told them now what had happened it would wreck the whole evening.
She decided what to do. She stood up, maneuvered herself over to the basin and got a box of Band-Aids out of the medicine cabinet. She’d make as good a repair with them as she could and in the morning try riding Gonzo. If it felt okay, she wouldn’t tell anyone until she’d ridden Pilgrim.
Annie switched off the bathroom light and walked quietly across the landing to Grace’s room. The door was ajar and creaked softly as she opened it wider. The bedside lamp was still on, the one they’d bought together in Great Falls to replace the broken one. The night it broke now seemed to Annie to belong to a different life.
“Gracie?”
There was no answer. Annie went over to the bed and switched off the light. She noted casually that Grace’s leg wasn’t propped in its usual place against the wall, but lay instead on the floor, tucked in the shadow between bed and table. Grace was asleep, her breathing so soft that Annie had to strain to hear it. Her hair lay swirled like the mouth of a dark river across the pillow. Annie stood for a while, watching her.
She’d been so brave about the fall. Annie knew it must have hurt. Then at supper and all evening she’d been so funny and bright and cheerful. She was an incredible kid. Before dinner, in the kitchen, while Robert was upstairs taking a bath, she’d told Annie what Tom had said about riding Pilgrim. She was buzzing with excitement, had it all worked out how she was going to surprise her dad. Joe was going to take him off to see Bronty’s foal and then bring him back at just the right moment to find her on Pilgrim. Annie was not without qualms about it and nor, she guessed, would Robert be. But if Tom thought it safe, it would be.
“He seems like a real nice fellow,” Robert had said, helping himself to another piece of salmon, which surprisingly tasted alright.
“He’s been very kind to us,” Annie said, as blandly as she could. There was a short silence and her words seemed to hang there as if for inspection. Mercifully, Grace started to talk about some of the things she’d seen Tom do this week with Pilgrim.
Annie leaned over now and kissed her daughter softly on the cheek. From some far-off place, Grace murmured a response.
Robert was already in bed. He was naked. As she came in and started to undress, he put down his book and watched her, waiting for her. It was a signal he’d used for years and in the past she’d often enjoyed undressing before him, even been aroused by it. Now though, she found his silent gaze unsettling, almost unbearable. She’d known, of course, he would expect to make love tonight, after so long apart. All evening she had dreaded it.
She took off her dress and laid it on the chair and felt suddenly so acutely aware of his eyes on her and the intensity of the silence that she stepped over to the window and parted the blind to look out.
“The rain’s stopped.”
“It stopped about half an hour ago.”
“Oh.”
She looked down toward the ranch house. Though she’d never been in Tom’s room, she knew the window and could see the light was on. Oh God, she thought, why can’t it be you? Why can’t it be us? The thought filled her with a kind of yearning surge so near to desperation that she quickly had to shut the blind and turn away. She hurriedly took off her bra and panties and reached for the big T-shirt she normally wore to sleep in.
“Don’t put it on,” Robert said softly. She turned to look at him and he smiled. “Come here.”
He held out his arms to her and she swallowed and did her best to smile back, praying he couldn’t read what she feared was in her eyes. She put the T-shirt down and walked to the bed, fe
eling shockingly exposed in her nakedness. She sat on the bed beside him and couldn’t help the shiver of her skin as he slipped one hand around the back of her neck and the other to her left breast.
“Are you cold?”
“Only a little.”
He gently pulled her head down to him and kissed her, in the way he always kissed her. And she tried, with every atom she could muster, to blank her mind of all comparison and lose herself in the familiar contours of his mouth and its familiar taste and smell and the familiar cradling of his hand on her breast.
She closed her eyes but could not subdue the welling sense of betrayal. She had betrayed this good and loving man not so much by what she’d done with Tom but by what she longed to do. More powerfully however, and even though she told herself how foolish it was, she felt she was betraying Tom by what she was doing now.
Robert opened the sheets and shifted to let her in beside him. She saw the familiar pattern of russet hair on his stomach and the engorged pink sway of his erection. It slid hard against her thigh as she lay herself down beside him and found his mouth again.
“Oh God, Annie, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Have you?”
“Shh. Of course I have.”
She felt the flat of his hand travel down her side and over her hip to her belly and knew he would stroke between her legs and would find how unaroused she was. Just as his fingers reached the rim of her hair, she slipped away a little down the bed.
The Horse Whisperer Page 30