Nicholas Evans - The Horse Whisperer

It was that clarifying hour when normally men left and women wanted them to stay. He'd known it many times himself, the urge to slip away like a thief with the dawn. It seemed prompted not so much by guilt as by fear, fear that the comfort or companionship that women seemed often to want, after a night spent more carnally, was somehow too committing. Maybe there was some primordial force at work. You sowed your seed and got the hell out. If so, this morning, Tom felt not a trace of it. He lay quite still so as not to wake her. And it occurred to him that maybe he was afraid to. Never in the night, not once in the long hours of their tireless hunger, had she shown any sign of regret. But he knew that with the dawn would come, if not regret, some colder new perspective. And so he lay in the unfolding light and treasured the slack and guiltless warmth of her beneath his arm.

He slept again and woke the second time to the sound of a car. Annie had turned over and he lay now with his front molded to the contours of her back, his face tucked into the scented nape of her neck. As he eased himself away from her she murmured though didn't wake and he slipped from the bed and silently gathered his clothes.

It was Smoky. He'd pulled up beside their two cars and was inspecting Tom's hat which had stood all night on the hood of the Chevy. The worry on his face changed to a grin of relief when he heard the clack of the screen door and saw Tom heading out toward him.

'Hiya, Smoke.'

'Thought you was upped and gone down to Sheridan.'

'Yeah. There was a change of plan. Sorry, I meant to call you.' He'd called the man with the colts from a gas station in Lovell to say sorry he couldn't make it, but had clean forgotten about Smoky.

Smoky handed him his hat. It was damp from the dew.

'Thought for a minute there you'd been kidnapped by aliens or somethin'.' He looked at Annie's car. Tom could see he was trying to figure things out.

'Annie and Grace didn't go back east then?'

'Well, Grace did, but her mother couldn't get a flight. She's staying over till the weekend when Grace gets back.'

'Right.' Smoky nodded slowly but Tom could see he wasn't altogether sure what was going on. Tom glanced at the Chevy's open door and remembered the lights must have been on all night too.

'Had some trouble last night with the battery here,' he said. 'Maybe you could help me give it a jump?'

It didn't explain a whole lot but it did the trick, for the prospect of a task seemed to drive all lingering doubt from Smoky's face.

'Sure,' he said. 'I got some leads in the truck.'

Annie opened her eyes and took only a moment to remember where she was. She turned over, expecting to see him and felt a small leap of panic on finding herself alone. Then she heard voices and the slam of a car door outside and felt a larger leap. She sat up and swung her legs out from the tangle of sheets. She stood and walked to the window and, as she did so, had to stem the moist run of him between her legs. She felt a bruised aching there that was also somehow delicious.

Through a narrow gap in the drapes she saw Smoky's truck pulling away from the barn and Tom waving after him. Then he turned and headed back to the house. She knew he wouldn't see her if he looked up and, watching him, she wondered how the night might have changed them both. What now might he think of her, having seen her so wanton and shameless? What now did she think of him?

He squinted up at the sky where already the clouds were burning off. The dogs came bounding around his legs and he ruffled their heads and spoke to them as he walked and Annie knew that, for her at least, nothing had changed.

She showered in his little bathroom, waiting to be seized by guilt or remorse, but neither came, only trepidation at what he might be feeling. She found the sight of his few simple toilet things beside the basin oddly touching. She used his toothbrush. There was a big blue toweling bathrobe slung by the door and she put it on, wrapping herself in the smell of him, and went back into his room.

He'd opened the drapes and was looking out of the window when she came in. He heard her and turned and she recalled him doing the same that day in Choteau when he'd come to the house to give her his verdict on Pilgrim. There were two cups steaming on the table beside him. She could see the apprehension in his smile. 'I made some coffee.' 'Thanks.'

She went over and took the cup, casing it in her hands. Alone together in the big empty room, they seemed suddenly formal, like strangers arrived too early at a party. He nodded at the robe.

'It suits you.' She smiled and sipped the coffee. It was black and strong and very hot. 'There's a better bathroom along the way there if you—' 'Yours is just fine.' "That was Smoky dropped by. I forgot to call him.'

There was silence. Somewhere down by the creek a horse whinnied. He looked so worried, she was suddenly afraid he was going to say sorry, it was all a mistake and could they just forget it ever happened.

'Annie?'

'What?'

He swallowed. 'I just wanted to say, that whatever you feel, whatever you think or want to do, it's okay.'

'And what do you feel?'

He said simply, 'That I love you.' Then he smiled and gave a little shrug that almost broke her heart. 'That's all.'

She put her cup down on the table and went to him and they clung to each other as if the world were already bent on their division. She covered his lowered face with kisses.

They had four days before Grace and the Bookers returned, four days and four nights. One protracted moment along the trail of nows. And that was all she would live and breathe and think of, Annie resolved, nothing beyond nor nothing past. And whatever came to pass, whatever brutal reckonings were forced upon them, this moment would be there, indelibly written in their heads and hearts forever.

They made love again while the sun eased over the corner of the house and angled knowingly in upon them. And afterward, cradled in his arms, she told him what she wanted. That the two of them should ride again to the high pastures where first they had kissed and where now they might be alone together, with nothing but the mountains and the sky to judge them.

They forded the creek a little before noon.

While Tom had saddled the horses and loaded a packhorse with all they might need, Annie had driven back up to the creek house to change and get her things. They would both bring food. Though she didn't say and he didn't ask, he knew she would also have called her husband in New York to lay some pretext for her coming absence. He'd done the same with Smoky who was getting a little dazed with all these changes of plan.

'Going up to check on the cattle, huh?'

'Yes.'

'On your own or…?'

'No, Annie's coming too.'

'Oh. Right.' There was a pause and Tom could hear two and two coalescing in Smoky's mind.

'I'd appreciate it, Smoke, if you kept it to yourself.'

'Oh sure, Tom. You bet.'

He said he'd drop by as previously planned to see to the horses. Tom knew he could be trusted on both issues.

Before leaving, Tom went down to the corrals and put Pilgrim into the field with some of the younger horses he'd started to get along with. Normally Pilgrim would go running off with them right away, but today he stood by the gate and watched Tom walk back to where he'd left the saddled horses.

Tom was going to ride the same mare he'd taken on the cattle drive, the strawberry roan. As he rode up toward the creek house, leading Rimrock and the little paint packhorse behind him, he looked back and noticed Pilgrim was still standing alone by the gate, watching him go. It was almost as if the horse knew something in their lives had changed.

Tom waited with the horses on the track below the creek house and watched Annie come in long strides down the slope toward him.