The Horse Whisperer

'What! He said what? I don't believe it. Lucy… Lucy, I don't care. It's got nothing to do with Crawford, I'm the bloody editor and that's the cover we go with.'

Tom saw Grace raise her eyes to the ceiling and wondered if it was for his benefit. In the movie, an actress whose name he could never remember was on her knees, hanging on to James Cagney, begging him not to leave. They always did this and Tom could never understand why they bothered.

'Grace, will you get Mr Booker a coffee?' Annie shouted from the other room. 'I'd like one too.' She went back to her phone call. Grace flicked the TV off and got up, clearly irritated.

'It's okay, really,' said Tom.

'She just made it.' She stared at him as if he'd said something rude.

'Okay then, thank you. But you keep watching the movie and I'll get it.'

'I've seen it. It's boring.'

She picked up her cane and went off into the kitchen. Tom waited a moment then followed. She shot him a glance when he came in and made more noise than she needed to with the cups. He walked over to the window.

'What does your mother do?'

'What?'

'Your mother. I wondered what line of work she was in.'

'She edits a magazine.' She handed him a cup of coffee. 'Cream and sugar?'

'No thanks. Must be a pretty stressful kind of job.'

Grace laughed. Tom was surprised by how bitter it sounded.

'Yeah. I guess you could say that.'

There was an awkward silence. Grace turned away and was about to pour another cup but instead she stopped and looked at him. He could see the surface of the coffee in the glass pot trembling from the tension in her. It was plain to see she had something important to say.

'Just in case she hasn't told you, I don't want to know anything about this, okay?'

Tom nodded slowly and waited for her to go on. She'd good as spat the words at him and was a little thrown by the calm reaction. She abruptly poured the coffee but did it too fast so that she spilled some. She clunked the pot down on the table and picked up the cup, not looking at him as she went on.

'This whole thing was her idea. I think it's totally stupid. They should just get rid of him.'

She stomped past him and out of the room. Tom watched her go, then he turned and looked out into the forlorn little backyard. A cat was eating something sinewy by an upturned garbage can.

He had come here to tell this girl's mother, for the last time, that the horse was beyond help. It was going to be tough after they had come all this way. He had thought a lot about it since Annie's visit to the ranch. To be precise, he'd thought a lot about Annie and the sadness in those eyes of hers. It had occurred to him that if he took the horse on, he might be doing it not to help the horse but to help her. He never did that. It was the wrong reason.

'I'm sorry. It was important.'

He turned to see Annie coming in. She was wearing a big denim shirt and her hair was combed back, still wet from the shower. It made her look boyish.

'That's okay.'

She went to get the coffee and topped up her cup. Then she came over to him and did the same to his without asking.

'You've been to see him?'

She put the coffeepot down but stayed standing in front of him. She smelled of soap or shampoo, something expensive anyway.

'Yes. I just came from there.'

'And?'

Tom still didn't know how he was going to break it to her, even as he started to speak.

'Well, he's about as wretched as a horse can get.'

He paused a moment and saw something flicker in her eyes. Then over her shoulder he saw Grace in the doorway, trying to look as if she didn't care and failing miserably. Meeting this girl just now had been like seeing the last picture of a triptych. The whole had become clear. All three - mother, daughter and horse - were inextricably connected in pain. If he could help the horse, even a little, maybe he could help them all? What could be wrong with that? And truly, how could he walk away from such suffering?

He heard himself say, 'Maybe we could do something.'

He saw the relief surge into Annie's face.

'Now hold on, ma'am, please. That was only a maybe. Before I could even think about it, I need to know something. It's a question for Grace here.'

He saw the girl stiffen.

'You see, when I work with a horse, it's no good just me doing it. It doesn't work that way. The owner needs to be involved too. So, here's the deal. I'm not sure I can do anything with old Pilgrim, but if you'll help, I'm prepared to give it a go.'

Grace gave that bitter little laugh again and looked away as if she couldn't believe he could make such a dumb suggestion. Annie looked at the floor.

'You have a problem with that, Grace?' Tom said. She looked at him with what was no doubt meant as contempt but when she spoke, her voice quavered.

'Isn't it like, obvious?'

Tom considered this for a moment, then shook his head. 'Nope. I don't think it is. Anyway, that's the deal. Thanks for the coffee.' He put his cup down and walked toward the door. Annie looked at Grace who turned away into the living room. Then Annie came hurrying after him into the hall.

'What would she have to do?'

'Just be there, help out, be involved.'

Something told him he shouldn't mention riding. He put his hat on and opened the front door. He could see the desperation in Annie's eyes.

'It's cold in here,' he said. 'You ought to get the heating checked out.'

He was about to step out when Grace appeared in the living-room doorway. She didn't look at him. She said something but it was so low he couldn't catch it.

'I'm sorry Grace?'

She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking sideways.

'I said okay. I'll do it.'

And she turned away and went back into the room.

Diane had cooked a turkey and was carving it as if it deserved it. One of the twins tried picking a piece and got his hand slapped. He was supposed to be ferrying the plates over from the sideboard to the table where everyone else was already seated.

'What about the yearlings?' she said. 'I thought that was the whole idea of not doing clinics, so you could work with your own horses for a change.'

'There'll be time for that,' said Tom. He couldn't understand why Diane seemed so riled.

'Who does she think she is, coming out here like that? Just assuming she can force you into it. I think she's got one hell of a nerve. Get off!' She tried to slap the boy again but this time he got away with the meat. Diane raised the carving knife. 'Next time you get this, okay? Frank, don't you think she's got a nerve?'

'Oh hell, I don't know. Seems to me it's up to Tom. Craig, will you pass the corn please?'

Diane made up the last plate for herself and came and sat down. They all went quiet for Frank to say grace.

'Anyway,' Tom went on after it was said, 'Joe here's going to be helping me with the yearlings. That right, Joe?'

'Sure.'

'Not while you're at school you're not,' Diane said. Tom and Joe exchanged a look. No one spoke for a while, everyone just getting on with helping themselves to vegetables and cranberry sauce. Tom hoped Diane would let the matter drop, but she was like a dog with a bone.

'I guess they'll want feeding and all, out here all day long.'

'I don't reckon they'll expect that,' Tom said.

'What, they'll go forty miles into Choteau every time they want a cup of coffee?'

'Tea,' Frank said. Diane shot him an unfriendly look.

'Huh?'

'Tea. She's English. They drink tea. Come on Diane, give the guy a break.'