Nicholas Evans - The Horse Whisperer

'Anybody see you?' she said.

'Nope.'

He rode by her and steered Gonzo gently down the bank to the meadow. Grace followed but the slope was difficult and a yard or so from the bottom she caught her leg and fell. She finished in a tangle that looked worse than it was. Joe got down and came to her.

'You okay?'

'Shit!'

He helped her up. 'Are you hurt?'

'No. I'm okay. Shit, shit, shit!'

He let her curse and without a word dusted down her back for her. She saw there was a muddy mark all down one side of her new jeans.

'Your leg okay?'

'Yes. I'm sorry. It just makes me so angry sometimes.'

He nodded and for a moment or two said nothing, letting her sort herself out.

'Still want to try?'

'Yes.'

Joe led Gonzo and the three of them walked out into the meadow. Butterflies lifted before them, making way in the shin-high grass which smelled warm and sweet with the sun and the crushing of their boots. The creek here ran shallow over gravel and as they came nearer, Grace could hear the water. A heron lifted up and banked lazily away, adjusting his legs as he went.

They reached a low stump of cottonwood, gnarled and overgrown, and Joe stopped beside it and coaxed Gonzo around so that it formed a platform for Grace to mount.

'That any good?' he said.

'Uh-huh. If I can get up there.'

He stood at the horse's shoulder, holding him steady with one hand and Grace with the other. Gonzo shifted and Joe gave him a stroke on the neck and told him it was okay. Grace put a hand on Joe's shoulder and hoisted herself with her good leg up onto the tree stump.

'Okay?'

'Yes. I think so.'

'Are the stirrups too short?'

'No, they're fine.'

Her left hand was still on his shoulder. She wondered whether he could feel in it the banging of her blood.

'Okay. Keep hold of me and, when you're ready, put your right hand on the horn of the saddle.'

Grace took a deep breath and did as he said. Gonzo moved his head a little but his feet stayed rooted. When he was sure she was steady, Joe took his hand off her, reached down, and took hold of the stirrup.

This was going to be the difficult part. To put her left foot in the stirrup, all her weight would have to be on her prosthetic. She thought she might slip but she could feel Joe brace himself and take a lot of the weight and in no time she had her foot safely in the stirrup as if they'd done it many times before. All that happened was that Gonzo shifted a little again but Joe whoaed him, calm but firmer this time, so that he steadied on the instant.

All she had to do now was swing her prosthetic leg over, but it felt so strange having no feeling there and she suddenly remembered that the last time she'd done this was on the morning of the accident.

'Okay?' Joe said.

'Yes.'

'Go on then.'

She braced her left leg, letting the stirrup take her weight, then tried to lift her right leg over the horse's rear.

'I can't get it high enough.'

'Here, lean on me some more. Lean out, so you get more of an angle.'

She did and, summoning her strength as if her life depended on it, she lifted the leg and swung. And as she did so, she pivoted and hauled herself up with the saddle horn and she felt Joe hoist her too and she swung the leg high and sideways and over it went.

She settled herself into the saddle and was surprised it didn't feel more alien. Joe saw her looking for the other stirrup and so he went quickly around and helped her into it. She could feel the inside thigh of her stump on the saddle and, though tender, it was impossible to know precisely where feeling ended and nothingness began.

Joe stepped aside with his eyes fixed on her in case something happened, but she was too much in her own head to notice this. She gathered the reins and nudged Gonzo forward. He moved out without question and she walked him in a long curve along the rim of the creek and didn't look back. She could give more pressure with the leg than she'd imagined possible, though without calf muscles she had to generate it with her stump and measure its effect by the horse's response. He moved as if he knew all this and by the time they'd reached the end of the meadow and turned without a foot misplaced, the two of them were one.

Grace lifted her eyes for the first time and saw Joe standing there among the flowers waiting for her. She rode an easy S shape back to him and stopped and he grinned up at her with the sun in his eyes and the meadow spreading away behind him and Grace suddenly wanted to cry. But she bit hard on the inside of her lip and grinned back down at him instead.

'Easy as pie,' he said.

Grace nodded and as soon as she could trust her voice said yeah, it was easy as pie.

The creek house kitchen was a spartan affair, lit by cold fluorescent strips whose casing had become coffins for an assortment of insects. When Frank and Diane had moved to the ranch house, they'd taken all the best equipment with them. The pots and pans were all from broken families and the dishwasher needed a thump in the right place to click through its cycle. The only thing Annie hadn't quite yet mastered was the oven which seemed to have a mind of its own. The door seal was rotten and the heat dial loose so that cooking required a blend of guesswork, vigilance and luck.

Baking the French-style apple tart she was serving for dessert however, hadn't been half the task of working out how they all might get to eat it. Too late Annie had discovered there weren't enough plates, cutlery or even enough chairs. And, embarrassed -because it somehow seemed to defeat the whole object - she'd had to call Diane and drive down and borrow some. Then she'd realized that the only table big enough to use was the one she was using for her desk, so she'd had to clear it and now all her machinery was stacked on the floor with her papers and magazines.

The evening had started in panic. Annie was used to entertaining people who thought the later you arrived the cooler you were, so it hadn't occurred to her that they'd arrive on the dot. But at seven, when she hadn't even changed, there they were, all but Tom, walking up the hill. She yelled to Grace, flew upstairs and threw on a dress she now had no time to press. By the time she heard their voices down by the porch, she'd done her eyes and lips, brushed her hair, given herself a blast of perfume and was downstairs to greet them.

Seeing them all standing there, Annie thought what a stupid idea this was, entertaining these people in their own house. Everyone seemed to feel awkward. Frank said Tom had been delayed by some problem with one of the yearlings but he was in the shower when they left and wouldn't be long. She asked them what they wanted to drink and remembered as she did so that she'd forgotten to get any beer.

'I'll have a beer,' Frank said.

It got better though. She opened a bottle of wine while Grace took Joe and the twins off and sat them on the floor in front of Annie's computer where soon she had them surfing spellbound on the Internet. Annie, Frank and Diane carried chairs out onto the porch and sat talking in a fading glow of evening light. They laughed over Scott's adventure with the calf, assuming Grace had told her all about it. Annie pretended she had. Then Frank told a long story about a disastrous high school rodeo where he'd humiliated himself in front of a girl he was trying to impress.

Annie listened with feigned attention, all the while waiting for the moment she would see Tom come around the end of the house. And when he did, his smile and the way he took off his hat and said he was sorry for being late were just as she'd imagined.

She led him into the house, apologizing before he even asked for one that there wasn't any beer. Tom said wine would be fine and he stood and watched her pour it. She handed him the glass and looked him full in the eyes for the first time and whatever she'd been going to say flew right out of her head. There was a beat of embarrassed silence before he came to the rescue.