Nicholas Evans - The Horse Whisperer

'Don't press too hard,' Annie heard him say. He was standing behind Grace, with his hands resting gently on her upper arms. 'Just let it drop down lightly.' Flames flared up as the red-hot head of the iron touched the calf's hide. 'That's good, firm but gentle. It hurts, but he'll get over it. Now let it roll a little. Good. Now lift. Grace, that's a perfect brand. Best Double D of the day.'

Everyone cheered. The girl's face was flushed and her eyes were shining. She laughed and made a little bow. Tom saw Annie looking and grinned and pointed at her.

'Your turn next, Annie.'

By late afternoon all but the smallest calves were branded and Frank announced it was time to eat. Everyone started heading for the ranch house, the younger children running on ahead, whooping. Annie looked around for Grace. No one had said anything about them being invited and Annie felt it was time to leave. She saw Grace up ahead, walking to the house with Joe, the two of them chatting easily about something. Annie called her name and she turned.

'We have to go now,' Annie said.

'What? Why?'

'Yeah, why? You're not allowed to go.' It was Tom. He'd come up alongside her. They were beside the bull pen. The two of them had hardly spoken all day. Annie shrugged.

'Well, you know. It's getting late.'

'Yeah, I know. And you've got to get back and feed the fax machine and make all those calls and things, right?'

The sun was behind him and Annie put her head on one side and squinted at him, giving him a look. Men didn't normally tease her like this. She liked it.

'But you see, there's kind of a tradition here,' he went on,'that whoever makes the best brand has to give a speech after dinner.'

'What!' said Grace.

'That's right. Or drink ten jugs of beer. So, Grace, you better go on in and get yourself ready.' Grace looked at Joe to make sure it was a joke. Tom nodded toward the house, deadpan. 'Joe, you better show her the way.' Joe led her off, doing his best not to grin.

'If you're sure we're invited,' said Annie.

'You're invited.'

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

They smiled at each other and the silence between them was filled for a few moments by the lowing of cattle. Their calls were gentler now that the frenzy of the day had passed. It was Annie who first felt the need to speak. She looked at the bulls lazing in the last of the sunshine.

'Who'd be a cow when you could lie around like these guys all day?' she said.

Tom looked at them and nodded. 'Yep. They spend all summer making love and winter just lying around and eating.' He paused, considering something as he watched them. 'On the other hand, not too many of them get to do it. Get born as a bull and you've got a ninety-nine percent chance of getting castrated and served up as a hamburger. On balance, I reckon I'd choose being a cow.'

They sat at a long table covered with a starched white cloth and laid with glazed hams, turkey, and steaming dishes of corn, beans, and sweet potato. The room it stood in was clearly the main living room but seemed to Annie more like a large hall that divided the two wings of the house. Its ceiling was high and its floor and walls were of dark, stained wood. There were paintings of Indians chasing buffalo and old sepia photographs of men with long moustaches and plainly dressed women with serious faces. On one side, an open staircase curved up to a wide, railed landing that overlooked the entire room.

Annie had felt embarrassed when they came in. She realized that while she had been out branding, most of the other women had been inside preparing the meal. But no one seemed to mind. Diane, who till today had never seemed overly friendly, made her feel welcome and even offered her a change of clothes. As all the men were equally dusty and muckstained, Annie thanked her and declined.

The children sat at one end of the table and the clamor they made was so loud that the adults at the other had to strain to hear themselves talk. Every so often Diane yelled at them to pipe down but it had little or no effect and soon, led by Frank and Hank who sat on either side of Annie, the uproar was general. Grace sat next to Joe. Annie could hear her telling him about New York and about a friend of hers who got mugged on the subway for his new Nike trainers. Joe listened with widening eyes.

Tom sat across from Annie, between his sister Rosie and their mother. They'd driven up from Great Falls this afternoon with Rosie's two daughters who were five and six years old. Ellen Booker was a gentle, fine-boned woman with perfectly white hair and eyes the same vivid blue as Tom's. She spoke little, just listened and smiled at what was going on around her. Annie noticed how Tom looked after her and talked quietly to her about the ranch and the horses. She could see from the way Ellen watched him that this was her favorite child.

'So Annie, you gonna do a big piece about us all in your magazine?' said Hank.

'That's right, Hank. You're the centerfold.'

He gave a great bellow of laughter.

Frank said, 'Hey Hank, you better get yourself some of that - what do they call it? Lipsuction.' 'Liposuction, you fool,' Diane said. 'I'll go for the lipsuction,' Hank said. 'Though I guess it depends who's doing the sucking.'

Annie asked Frank about the ranch and he told her how they had moved here when he and Tom were boys. He took her over to look at the photographs and told her who all the people were. There was something about this gallery of solemn faces that Annie found moving. It was as though their mere survival in this daunting land were in itself some mighty triumph. While Frank was telling her about his grandfather, Annie happened to glance back at the table and saw Tom look up and see her and smile.

When she and Frank went back and sat down, Joe was telling Grace about a hippie woman who lived farther up on the mountains. She'd bought some Pryor Mountain mustangs a few years back, he said, and just let them run wild. They'd bred and now there was quite a herd of them up there.

'She's got all these kids too and they run around with nothing on. Dad calls her Granola Gay. Came here from L.A.'

'Californication!' Hank chanted. Everyone laughed. 'Hank, do you mind!' Diane said. Later, over a dessert of pumpkin pie and homemade cherry ice cream, Frank said, 'You know what, Tom? While you're working on that horse of theirs, Annie and Grace here ought to move into the creek house. Seems crazy them doing all that shuttling to and fro.' Annie just caught the sharp look Diane gave her husband. It was obviously something they hadn't discussed. Tom looked at Annie.

'Sure,' he said. 'It's a good idea.'

'Oh, that's very nice of you, but really…'

'Hell, I know that old house you're staying in down there in Choteau,' said Frank. 'It's good as falling down around your ears.'

'Frank, the creek house isn't exactly a palace, for heavensakes,' said Diane. 'Anyway, I'm sure Annie wants her privacy.'

Before Annie could speak, Frank leaned forward and looked down the table. 'Grace? What do you think?'

Grace looked at Annie, but her face gave her answer and it was all Frank needed.

'That's settled then.'

Diane got up.'Ill make some coffee,' she said.

A quarter moon the color of dappled bone still stood in the dawning sky when Tom stepped out through the screen door and onto the porch. He stopped there, pulling on his gloves, feeling the cold air on his face. The world was white and brittle with frost and no breeze ruffled the clouds made by his breath. The dogs came rushing up to greet him, their bodies wagging with their tails and he touched their heads and with no more than a nod sent them racing off toward the corrals, nipping and jostling each other, their feet scuffing tracks in the magnesium grass. Tom turned up the collar of his green wool jacket and stepped down off the porch to follow them.