Chapter Thirty-three

She peeled the onions then cut them in half and finely sliced them, breathing through her mouth so the fumes wouldn't make her cry. She could feel his eyes upon her every move and she found it curiously empowering, as if his watching somehow invested her with skills she'd never thought to possess. She'd felt it too when they made love. Maybe (she smiled at the thought), maybe that was how horses felt in his presence.

He was leaning back against the divider on the far side of the room. He hadn't touched the glass of wine she'd poured him. In the living room, the music she'd found on Grace's radio had given way to a learned discussion about some composer she'd never heard of. All these people on public radio seemed to have the same cream-calm voices.

'What are you looking at?' she said gently. He shrugged.

'You. Does it bother you?'

'I like it. It makes me feel I know what I'm doing.'

'You cook fine.'

'I can't cook to save my life.'

'That's okay, you can cook to save mine.' She had been worried when they got back to the ranch this afternoon that reality would come crashing in around their ears. But, strangely, it hadn't. She felt clothed in a kind of inviolable calm. While he'd seen to the horses, she'd checked her messages and found none among them to disturb her. The most important was from Robert, giving Grace's flight numbers and arrival time in Great Falls tomorrow. It had all gone alrighty, he said, with Wendy Auerbach - in fact Grace was so alrighty about her new leg she was thinking of putting in for the marathon.

Annie's calm had even survived when she called and spoke to them both. The message she'd left on Tuesday, that she was going to spend a couple of days up at the Bookers' mountain cabin, seemed to have stirred not the smallest ripple. Throughout their marriage she had often taken time on her own somewhere and Robert presumably now saw this as part of the process of getting her head back together after losing her job. He simply asked how it had been and, simply, she replied that it had been lovely. Except by omission, she didn't even have to lie.

'It worries me, all this back-to-nature, big-outdoors stuff you're getting into,' he joked.

'Why's that?'

'Well, soon you'll be wanting to move out there and I'll have to switch to livestock litigation or something.'

When they hung up Annie wondered why the sound of his voice or of Grace's hadn't plunged her into the sea of guilt she surely knew awaited her. It just hadn't. It was as though that susceptible part of her nature were in suspense, with its eye on the clock and mindful that she had owing yet some few, fleeting hours with Tom.

She was cooking him the pasta dish she'd wanted to make that evening they'd all come for supper. The little pots of basil she'd bought in Butte were flourishing. As she chopped the leaves, he came up behind her and rested his hands lightly on her hips and kissed the side of her neck. The touch of his lips made her catch her breath. 'It smells good,' he said.

'What, me or the basil?'

'Both.'

'You know, in ancient times they used basil to embalm the dead.'

'Mummies, you mean?'

'Daddies too. It prevents mortification of the flesh.'

'I thought that was about banishing lust.'

'It does that too, so don't eat too much.' She tipped it into the pan where the onions and tomatoes were already cooking, then swiveled slowly in his hands to face him. Her forehead was against his lips and he kissed her there gently. She looked down and slotted her thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. And in the sharing quiet of that moment Annie knew she could not leave this man.

'Oh Tom. I love you so much.'

'I love you too.'

They lit the candles she'd bought for the supper party and turned off the fluorescents so they could eat at the little table in the kitchen. The pasta was perfect. When they were through eating, he asked her if she'd figured out the string trick. She said according to Joe it wasn't a trick but in any case, no, she hadn't.

'Do you still have it?' 'What do you think?'

She pulled it from her pocket and gave it to him and he told her to hold up her finger and watch closely because he was only going to show her once. She did and followed every intricate maneuver of his hand until the loop circled and seemed trapped by their touching fingers. Then, as he slowly pulled the loop, the moment before it came free, she suddenly saw how it was done.

'Let me try,' she said. She found she could picture exactly the movements his hands had made and translate them in mirror image to her own. And sure enough, when she pulled, the cord came free.

He sat back in his chair and gave her a smile that was both loving and sad.

'There you are,' he said. 'Now you know.'

'Do I get to keep the cord?'

'You don't need it anymore.' And he took it and put it in his pocket.

Everyone was there and Grace wished they weren't. Such though had been the build-up to this moment, that a full turnout was only to be expected. She looked at the waiting faces along the rail of the big arena: her mom, Frank and Diane, Joe, the twins in their matching Universal Studios caps, even Smoky had come by. And what if it all went wrong? It wouldn't, she told herself firmly. She wasn't going to let it.

Pilgrim stood saddled in the middle of the arena while Tom adjusted the stirrups. The horse looked beautiful, though Grace still couldn't get used to the sight of him in a western saddle. Since riding Gonzo she'd come to prefer it to her old English one. It made her feel more secure, so that's what they were going to use today.

Earlier she and Tom had managed to weed out the last tangles from his mane and tail and they'd brushed him till he shone. Scars aside, she thought, he looked like a show horse. He'd always had a sense of occasion. It was almost a year to the day, she recalled, that she'd seen the first photograph of him, the one they'd sent up from Kentucky.

They had all just watched Tom ride him gently around the arena a few times. Grace had stood beside her mother and tried with deep breathing to subdue her fluttering stomach.

'What if it's only Tom he'll let ride him?' she hissed.

Annie gave her a hug. 'Honey, Tom wouldn't let you if it wasn't safe, you know that.'

It was true. But it didn't make her any less nervous.

Tom had left Pilgrim alone and was now heading over to them. She stepped forward. The new leg felt good.

'All set?' he said. She swallowed and nodded. She wasn't sure she could trust her voice. He saw the worry in her face and when he got to her he said, so no one else could hear, 'You know, Grace, we don't have to do this now. Tell you the truth, I didn't know there was going to be this kind of circus.'

'It's okay. I don't mind.'

'Sure?'

'Sure.'

He put his arm around her shoulders and they walked out to where Pilgrim stood waiting. She saw him prick up his ears as they came.

Annie's heart was thumping so loud she thought Diane, next to her, must be able to hear. It was hard to know how many of its beats were for Grace and how many for herself. For what was going on across the strip of red sand was too momentous. It was both a beginning and an end, though of what and for whom, Annie had no clear perception. It was as though everything were swirling in some vast, climactic centrifuge of emotion and only when it stopped would she see what it had done to them all and what was then to become of them.

'She's one brave kid, that daughter of yours,' Diane said.

'I know.'

Tom had Grace stop a short distance from where Pilgrim was standing, so as not to crowd him. He went the final few paces alone, stopped beside him then reached gently to take hold of him. He held him by the bridle and put his head beside Pilgrim's while he soothed the horse's neck with his flat of his other hand. Pilgrim never took his eyes off Grace.

Even from a distance, Annie could tell something was wrong.

When Tom tried to ease him forward, he resisted, lifting his head and looking down at Grace so that you could see white at the top of his eye. Tom turned him away and walked him in circles, as she'd seen him do on a halter, bending him, making him yield to pressure and roll his hindquarters across. This seemed to calm him. But as soon as Tom led him back toward Grace, he became edgy again.

Grace was facing the other way, so Annie couldn't see her face. But she didn't need to. She could feel from here the worry and hurt that had surely taken hold of the girl.

'I don't know if this is a good idea,' Diane said.

'He'll be alright.' Annie said it too quickly. It sounded harsh.

'I reckon,' said Smoky. But even he didn't seem too sure.

Tom took Pilgrim away and did some more circles and when that didn't work either he climbed up on him and took him a few times around the arena at a lope. Grace turned slowly, following them with her eyes. She looked briefly at Annie and they swapped a smile neither could make convincing.

Tom didn't speak or concern himself with anyone but Pilgrim. He was frowning and Annie couldn't tell if it was only in concentration or if there was worry there too, though he never showed worry, she knew, when he was with horses.

He dismounted and led Pilgrim again toward Grace. And again the horse balked. This time Grace turned on her heel and almost fell. As she walked back across the sand, her mouth quivered and Annie could see she was fighting tears.

'Smoke?' Tom called. Smoky climbed over the rail and went to him.

Frank said, 'He'll be okay, Grace. Just you hang on there a minute or two. Tom'll get him okay, you'll see.'

Grace nodded and tried to smile but couldn't look at him or anyone else, least of all Annie. Annie wanted to hug her but held off. She knew Grace wouldn't be able to take it and the tears would come and then she'd be embarrassed and angry at both of them. Instead, when the girl came near enough, Annie said quietly, 'Frank's right. It'll be okay.'

'He saw I was scared,' Grace said under her breath.

Out in the arena, Tom and Smoky were huddled, having some urgent, hushed discussion none but Pilgrim could hear. After a while Smoky turned and jogged over to the gate at the end of the arena. He climbed over it and disappeared into the barn. Tom left Pilgrim where he was and came over to where everyone was waiting.

'Okay Grace,' he said. 'We're going to do something now that I'd kind of hoped we wouldn't have to. But there's still something going on inside him that I can't reach in any other way. So me and Smoke here, we're going to try laying him down. Okay?'

Grace nodded. Annie could see the girl had no clearer idea of what this meant than she had herself.

'What does it involve?' Annie asked. He looked at her and she had a sudden vivid image of their joined bodies.

'Well, it's more or less how it sounds. Only I have to tell you that it's not always pretty to watch. Sometimes a horse'll fight it real hard. That's why I don't like doing it unless I have to. This fella's already shown us he likes a good fight. So if you'd sooner not watch, I suggest you go inside and we'll call you when we're done.'

Grace shook her head. 'No. I want to watch.'

Smoky came back into the ring with the things Tom had sent him to get. They'd had to do this a few months back at a clinic down in New Mexico, so Smoky pretty much knew the score. Quietly though, away from all those watching, Tom took him through the process again so there wouldn't be any mistakes and nobody would get hurt.

Smoky listened gravely, nodding now and again. When Tom saw he had it straight in his head the two of them went over toward Pilgrim. He'd moved away to the far side of the arena and you could tell by the way he worked his ears that he sensed something was about to happen and that it might not be fun. He let Tom come to him and rub his neck but didn't take his eyes off Smoky who stood a few yards off with all those ropes and things in his hand.

Tom unhitched the bridle and in its place slipped on the rope halter Smoky handed him. Then, one at a time, Smoky passed him the ends of two long ropes that were coiled over his arm. Tom fastened one under the halter and the other to the horn of the saddle.

He worked calmly, giving Pilgrim no cause for fear. The subterfuge made him feel bad, knowing what was to come and how the trust he'd built with the horse would now have to be broken before it could be restored. Maybe he'd got it wrong just now, he thought. Maybe what had happened between him and Annie had affected him in some way that Pilgrim sensed. Most likely all the horse had sensed was Grace's fear. But you could never be quite sure, even he, what else was going on in their minds. Maybe from somewhere deep inside him, Tom was telling the horse he didn't want it to work, for when it worked that was the end and Annie would be gone.

He asked Smoky for the hobble. It was made out of an old strip of sacking and rope. Smoothing his hand down Pilgrim's left foreleg, he lifted the hoof. The horse only shifted slightly. Tom soothed him all the time with his hand and his voice. Then, when the horse was still, he slipped the sling of sacking over the hoof and made sure it was snug. The other end was rope and with it he hoisted the weight of the raised hoof and made it fast to the horn of the saddle. Pilgrim was now a three-legged animal. An explosion waiting to happen.

It happened, as he knew it would, as soon as Tom moved away and took one of the lines, the halter one, from Smoky. Pilgrim tried to move and found himself crippled. He lurched and hopped on his right foreleg and the feeling scared him so badly that he jolted and hopped again and scared himself even worse.

If he couldn't walk, then maybe he could run, so now he tried and his eyes filled with panic at the feel of it. Tom and Smoky braced themselves and leaned back on their lines, forcing him around them in a circle maybe fifteen feet in radius. And round and round he went, like a crazed rocking horse with a broken leg.

Tom glanced at the faces that watched from the rail. He could see Grace had grown pale and that Annie was now holding her and he cussed himself for giving them the choice and not insisting they go inside and save themselves the pain of this sorry sight.

Annie had her hands on Grace's shoulders and the knuckles had gone white. Every muscle in their two bodies was clenched and jerked at each agonized hop that Pilgrim made.

'Why's he doing this?' Grace cried.

'I don't know.'

'It'll be okay, Grace,' Frank said. 'I saw him do this one time before.' Annie looked at him and tried to smile. His face belied the comfort of his words. Joe and the twins looked almost as worried as Grace.

Diane said quietly, 'Maybe you'd better take her inside.'

'No,' Grace said. 'I want to watch.'

By now Pilgrim was covered in sweat. But still he kept going. As he ran his hobbled foot jabbed the air like a wild, deformed flipper. His jolting gait sent up a burst of red sand at every step and it hung over the three of them like a fine red mist.

It seemed to Annie so wrong, so out of character, for Tom to be doing this. She had seen him be firm with horses before but never causing pain or suffering. Everything he'd done with Pilgrim had been designed to build up trust and confidence. And now he was hurting him. She just couldn't understand.

At last the horse stopped. And as soon as he did Tom nodded to Smoky and they let the two lines go slack. Then off he went again and they tightened the lines and kept the pressure on until he stopped. They gave him slack again. The horse stood there, his wet sides heaving. He was panting like some desperate asthmatic smoker and the sound was so rasping and terrible that Annie wanted to block her ears.

Now Tom was saying something to Smoky. Smoky nodded and handed him his line then went to get the coiled lasso he'd left lying on the sand. He swung a wide loop in the air and at the second attempt got it to fall over the horn of Pilgrim's saddle. He pulled it tight then took the other end to the far side of the arena and tied it in a quick-release to the bottom rail. He came back and took the other two lines from Tom.

Now Tom went to the rail and started putting pressure on the lasso line. Pilgrim felt it and braced himself. The pressure was downward and the horn of the saddle tilted.

'What's he doing?' Grace's voice was small and fearful.

Frank said, 'He's trying to get him to go down on his knees.'

Pilgrim fought long and hard and when at last he did kneel, it was only for a moment. He then seemed to summon some last surge of effort and stood again. Three times more he went down and got up again, like some reluctant convert. But the pressure Tom was putting on the saddle was too strong and relentless and finally the horse crashed down on his knees and stayed down.

Annie could feel the relief in Grace's shoulders. But it wasn't over. Tom kept the pressure on. He yelled to Smoky now to drop the other lines and come and help him. And together they hauled on the lasso line.

'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.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 799