Nicholas Evans - The Horse Whisperer

She made him do it again and again and then had a go herself and, of course, it didn't work. Frank shook his head theatrically, as if baffled why it didn't. The kids were loving it. Diane, who must have seen it a hundred times, gave Annie a tired, indulgent smile.

The two women were getting on well, better than ever, Annie believed, though only yesterday she'd been aware of a coolness no doubt caused by Annie changing her mind at the last minute about coming on the cattle drive. Riding together today, they'd talked easily about all sorts of things. But still, somewhere beneath Diane's friendliness, Annie sensed a wariness that was less than dislike yet more than mistrust. More than anything, she noticed the way Diane watched her when she was around Tom. It was this that had led Annie, against all desire, to decline Tom's invitation this afternoon to ride with him to the top of the ridge.

'What d'you reckon, Tom?' Frank said. Try some water?'

'Reckon so, brother.' A dutiful conspirator, he passed Frank the can he'd filled from the stream and Frank told Grace to roll up her sleeves and immerse both arms up to the elbows. Grace was giggling so much she poured half of it down her shirt.

'Kind of gets the charge going, you know?'

Ten minutes later, none the wiser and much the wetter, Grace gave up. During that time both Tom and Joe successfully made the match jump and Annie had a go but couldn't make it move. The twins couldn't do it either. Diane confided to Annie that the first time Frank tried it on her, he'd got her sitting fully clothed in a cattle trough.

Then Scott asked Tom to do his rope trick.

'It ain't a trick,' Joe said.

'Is too.'

'It ain't, is it Tom?'

Tom smiled. 'Well, it kind of depends what you mean by trick.' He pulled something from the pocket of his jeans. It was a simple piece of gray cord about two feet long. He tied the ends together to make a loop. 'Okay,' he said. 'This one's for Annie.' He got up and came toward her.

'Not if it involves pain or death,' Annie said.

'Ma'am, you won't feel a thing.'

He knelt down beside her and asked her to hold up the first finger of her right hand. She did and he put the loop over it then told her to watch carefully. Holding the other end of the loop taut with his left hand, he drew one side of the cord over the other with the middle finger of his right hand. Then he rolled the hand over so it was under the loop, then back over it again and put the same finger tip to tip with Annie's.

It seemed now that the loop circled their touching fingertips and that it could only be removed if the touch were broken. Tom paused and she looked up at him. He smiled and the nearness of his clear blue eyes almost overwhelmed her. 'Look,' he said softly. And she looked down again at their touching fingers and gently he pulled the cord and it slipped away and was free, still knotted and without ever breaking their touch.

He showed her a few more times and then Annie tried and Grace tried and the twins tried and none of them could do it. Joe was the only one who could, though Annie could see from his grin that Frank also knew how. Whether Diane knew too it was hard to tell, for all she did was sip her coffee and watch with a sort of half-amused detachment.

When everyone was through trying, Tom stood up and wound the loop round his fingers to make a neat coil of it. He handed it to Annie.

'Is this a gift?' she said as she took it.

'Nope,' he said. 'Just till you get the hang of it.'

She woke and for a moment had no idea what she was looking at. Then she remembered where she was and realized she was staring at the moon. It seemed close enough for her to reach out and place her fingers in its craters. She turned her head and saw Grace's sleeping face beside her. Frank had offered them the cabin, which normally they only used if it was raining. Annie was tempted but Grace had insisted they sleep outside with the others. Annie could see them lying in their sleeping bags beside the dimming glow of the fire.

She felt thirsty and so alert it was hopeless to try again for sleep. She sat up and looked around. She couldn't see the water can and would be sure to wake the others in the search. Across the meadow the black shapes of the cattle cast shadows yet blacker on the pale moonlit grass. She slipped her legs quietly from the sleeping bag and felt again the havoc done to her muscles by the riding. They'd slept in their clothes, only taking off their boots and socks. Annie was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. She stood up and set off barefoot toward the stream.

The dew-drenched grass felt cool and thrilling on her feet, though she took care where she placed them for fear of stepping in something less romantic. Somewhere high among the trees an owl was calling and she wondered if it was this or the moon or plain habit that had woken her. The cattle lifted their heads to look as she passed among them and she whispered a greeting then felt foolish for doing so.

The grass on the near bank of the stream was churned by the cattle's hooves. The water moved slow and silent, its glass surface reflecting only the black of the forest beyond. Annie walked upstream and found a place where the flow divided smoothly around an island tree. With two long steps she reached the far side and walked downstream again to a tapered overhang of bank where she could kneel to drink.

Viewed from here, the water now reflected only sky. And so perfect was the moon that Annie hesitated to disturb it. The shock of the water, when at last she did, made her gasp. It was colder than ice, as if it flowed from the ancient glacial heart of the mountain. Annie cupped it in ghost-pale hands and bathed her face. Then she cupped some more and drank.

She saw him first in the water when he loomed across the reflected moon that had so transfixed her gaze she'd lost all sense of time. It didn't startle her. Even before she looked up she knew it was him.

'Are you okay?' he said.

The other bank where he stood was higher and she had to squint up at him against the moon. She could read the concern on his face. She smiled.

'I'm fine.'

'I woke up and saw you weren't there.'

'I was just thirsty.'

'The bacon.'

'I suppose.'

'Does the water taste as good as that glass of rain the other night?'

'Almost. Try it.'

He looked down at the water and saw it would be easier to reach from where she was.

'Mind if I come over? I'm disturbing you.'

Annie almost laughed. 'Oh no you're not. Be my guest.'

He walked to the island tree and crossed and Annie watched and knew that more was being crossed than water. He smiled as he came close and when he reached her he knelt beside her and without a word cupped his hand to the water and drank. Some slipped between his fingers, quickening the moonlight in silver trickles.

It seemed to Annie, and would always seem, that in what followed there was no element of choice. Some things simply were and could not be rendered otherwise. She trembled now at its doing and would tremble later at the thought of it, though never once with regret.

He finished drinking and turned to her and as he was about to brush the water from his face she reached out and did it for him. She felt the cold of the water on the back of her fingers and might have taken it as rejection and removed her hand had she not then felt through it the confirming warmth of his flesh. And with this touch, the world went still.

His eyes had only the unifying pale of the moon. Clarified of color, they seemed to have some limitless depth into which she now traveled with wonder but quite without misgiving. He gently raised his hand to the hand she yet held to his cheek. And he took it and turned it and pressed her palm to his lips, as if sealing some long-awaited welcome.