Smoky listened gravely, nodding now and again. When Tom saw he had it straight in his head the two of them went over toward Pilgrim. He'd moved away to the far side of the arena and you could tell by the way he worked his ears that he sensed something was about to happen and that it might not be fun. He let Tom come to him and rub his neck but didn't take his eyes off Smoky who stood a few yards off with all those ropes and things in his hand.
Tom unhitched the bridle and in its place slipped on the rope halter Smoky handed him. Then, one at a time, Smoky passed him the ends of two long ropes that were coiled over his arm. Tom fastened one under the halter and the other to the horn of the saddle.
He worked calmly, giving Pilgrim no cause for fear. The subterfuge made him feel bad, knowing what was to come and how the trust he'd built with the horse would now have to be broken before it could be restored. Maybe he'd got it wrong just now, he thought. Maybe what had happened between him and Annie had affected him in some way that Pilgrim sensed. Most likely all the horse had sensed was Grace's fear. But you could never be quite sure, even he, what else was going on in their minds. Maybe from somewhere deep inside him, Tom was telling the horse he didn't want it to work, for when it worked that was the end and Annie would be gone.
He asked Smoky for the hobble. It was made out of an old strip of sacking and rope. Smoothing his hand down Pilgrim's left foreleg, he lifted the hoof. The horse only shifted slightly. Tom soothed him all the time with his hand and his voice. Then, when the horse was still, he slipped the sling of sacking over the hoof and made sure it was snug. The other end was rope and with it he hoisted the weight of the raised hoof and made it fast to the horn of the saddle. Pilgrim was now a three-legged animal. An explosion waiting to happen.
It happened, as he knew it would, as soon as Tom moved away and took one of the lines, the halter one, from Smoky. Pilgrim tried to move and found himself crippled. He lurched and hopped on his right foreleg and the feeling scared him so badly that he jolted and hopped again and scared himself even worse.
If he couldn't walk, then maybe he could run, so now he tried and his eyes filled with panic at the feel of it. Tom and Smoky braced themselves and leaned back on their lines, forcing him around them in a circle maybe fifteen feet in radius. And round and round he went, like a crazed rocking horse with a broken leg.
Tom glanced at the faces that watched from the rail. He could see Grace had grown pale and that Annie was now holding her and he cussed himself for giving them the choice and not insisting they go inside and save themselves the pain of this sorry sight.
Annie had her hands on Grace's shoulders and the knuckles had gone white. Every muscle in their two bodies was clenched and jerked at each agonized hop that Pilgrim made.
'Why's he doing this?' Grace cried.
'I don't know.'
'It'll be okay, Grace,' Frank said. 'I saw him do this one time before.' Annie looked at him and tried to smile. His face belied the comfort of his words. Joe and the twins looked almost as worried as Grace.
Diane said quietly, 'Maybe you'd better take her inside.'
'No,' Grace said. 'I want to watch.'
By now Pilgrim was covered in sweat. But still he kept going. As he ran his hobbled foot jabbed the air like a wild, deformed flipper. His jolting gait sent up a burst of red sand at every step and it hung over the three of them like a fine red mist.
It seemed to Annie so wrong, so out of character, for Tom to be doing this. She had seen him be firm with horses before but never causing pain or suffering. Everything he'd done with Pilgrim had been designed to build up trust and confidence. And now he was hurting him. She just couldn't understand.
At last the horse stopped. And as soon as he did Tom nodded to Smoky and they let the two lines go slack. Then off he went again and they tightened the lines and kept the pressure on until he stopped. They gave him slack again. The horse stood there, his wet sides heaving. He was panting like some desperate asthmatic smoker and the sound was so rasping and terrible that Annie wanted to block her ears.
Now Tom was saying something to Smoky. Smoky nodded and handed him his line then went to get the coiled lasso he'd left lying on the sand. He swung a wide loop in the air and at the second attempt got it to fall over the horn of Pilgrim's saddle. He pulled it tight then took the other end to the far side of the arena and tied it in a quick-release to the bottom rail. He came back and took the other two lines from Tom.
Now Tom went to the rail and started putting pressure on the lasso line. Pilgrim felt it and braced himself. The pressure was downward and the horn of the saddle tilted.
'What's he doing?' Grace's voice was small and fearful.
Frank said, 'He's trying to get him to go down on his knees.'
Pilgrim fought long and hard and when at last he did kneel, it was only for a moment. He then seemed to summon some last surge of effort and stood again. Three times more he went down and got up again, like some reluctant convert. But the pressure Tom was putting on the saddle was too strong and relentless and finally the horse crashed down on his knees and stayed down.
Annie could feel the relief in Grace's shoulders. But it wasn't over. Tom kept the pressure on. He yelled to Smoky now to drop the other lines and come and help him. And together they hauled on the lasso line.
'Why don't they let him be!' Grace said. 'Haven't they hurt him enough?'
'He's got to lie down,' Frank said.
Pilgrim snorted like a wounded bull. There was foam spewing at his mouth. His flanks were filthy where the sand had stuck to his sweat. Again he fought for a long time. But again it was too much. And at last, slowly, he keeled over on his side and lay his head on the sand and was still.
It seemed to Annie a total, humiliating surrender.
She could feel Grace's body start to shake with sobs. She felt tears well in her own eyes and was powerless to stop them. Grace turned and buried her face in Annie's chest.
'Grace!' It was Tom.
Annie looked up and saw he was standing with Smoky by Pilgrim's prone body. They looked like two hunters at the carcass of a kill.
'Grace?' he called again. 'Will you come here please?'
'No! I won't!'
He left Smoky and headed toward them. His face was grim, almost unrecognizable, as though he were possessed by some dark or vengeful force. She kept her arms around Grace to shelter her. Tom stopped in front of them.
'Grace? I'd like you to come with me.'
'No, I don't want to.'
'You've got to.'
'No, you'll only hurt him some more.'
'He's not hurt. He's okay.'
'Oh sure!'
Annie wanted to intervene, to protect her. But so daunting was Tom's intensity that instead she let him take her daughter from her hands. He gripped the child by her shoulders and made her look at him.
'You've got to do this Grace. Trust me.'
'Do what?'
'Come with me and I'll show you.'
Reluctantly, she let him lead her across the arena. Driven by the same protective urge, Annie climbed unbidden over the rail and followed. She stopped a few yards short, but near enough in case she was needed. Smoky tried a smile but saw right away it was inappropriate. Tom looked at her.
'It'll be okay Annie.' She barely nodded.
'Okay Grace,' Tom said. 'I want you to stroke him. I want you to start with his hindquarters and rub him and move his legs and feel him all over.'
'What's the point? He's good as dead.'
'Just do as I say.'
Grace walked hesitantly to the horse's rear. Pilgrim didn't lift his head from the sand but Annie could see his one eye try to follow her.
'Okay. Now stroke him. Go on. Start with his leg there. Go on. Waggle it around. That's it.'