"Lucky, Lucky?" she is shouting. "Lucky?"
"Are you looking for your dog?"
"My horse."
"I've got him."
"I'm not going in your house."
"He's just over the edge, in a sinkhole."
The horse recognizes the girl; his tale swishes.
"I was just going into the garage to look for something."
"I'm not going into your garage," the girl says, climbing down the hill.
"Well, I don't think you should go down there."
"It's my horse."
In the garage there's a garden hose, a lounge chair, a bag of sand, and a pair of skis — too narrow to use as planks for the horse to walk up. And while he imagines putting the horse on skis and pulling the horse up the hill with a rope, like an old-fashioned toy horse on wheels, he doesn't really think that'll work. There's a tall wooden door he bought for something and then decided not to use. He carries the door out — they can use it as a ramp. His shoulder and leg are throbbing, reminding him of the pain. He wonders, what's the point of having the trainer if, when you need to do something, you can't do anything? He carries the door to the edge of the hole and, with the girl's help, positions it on the ground.
A school bus drives by. "That was my ride," she says.
"How old are you?" he asks.
"None of your business," she says.
He figures she's about eleven — going on twenty-seven.
The girl tries to guide the horse up the door and out of the hole. He won't go. She runs up and down the wooden door, trying to show him that the ramp is safe. The horse is suspicious. Richard goes back into the house, gives Cecelia his headphones, and asks if they have any rope. She finds him a piece of thin nylon rope, and he takes it out to the girl. The girl makes a loop around the horse's neck and tries to lead him out. The horse wants to come out, he starts to come out, but something keeps him in the hole. And he's catching on to the fact that he's trapped, and is looking at the girl and at Richard, wanting someone to explain it in horse terms.
"Does your horse have a trainer, or a friend we could call?"
"Maybe we should call 911."
"They're not always helpful. This is a weird idea, but I think we should ask the guy at the house up the hill."
"The movie star?" the girl says. "You can't just go and ring his bell."
"Why not?"
"Like he's going to answer. Fine, you go, I'm not allowed into anyone's house."
Richard walks up the hill, rings the buzzer on the gate. There's a long pause.
"Yes?"
"Hi, it's your neighbor; we've never met, but there's a horse out here stuck in a ditch. He got himself in, but can't get out. I was wondering if you could help us."
"Hang on."
The automatic gate peels back, the front door opens, and there he is in jeans and a white T-shirt, looking a little rumpled, a little worn. He's startlingly sexy. Richard is thrown off guard, staring. The movie star is pulling on cowboy boots with no socks. He picks up one boot and slides it onto his foot, effortlessly, no wrestling. As he bends, his T-shirt rides up, showing off muscle, skin, a small tattoo. Everything about him is better than average.
"Sorry to bother you," Richard says. "But the horse is in the hole, the little girl is about to cry, and, well, are you busy?"
"Just doing some reading. Let's go." Together they walk down the hill. By now the fog has burned off; it's a beautiful day. He's walking with the movie star, the sky is blue and clear, the air crisp. It is as though the movie star has changed the lighting, changed the mood.
The girl is still trying to get the horse to walk up the plank.
"No luck?" the movie star asks.
The girl shakes her head. "Do you think you can get him out?" she asks, tearfully.
"Sure," he says. "That's what I do."
The movie star climbs down; he's in the hole, with the girl and the horse, when the government man pulls up in a plain white sedan. "I'm Bob, one of the day men," he says, introducing himself to the group.
Richard can't tell if Bob, the government man, recognizes the movie star, but he's acting so incredibly cool that Richard is pretty sure Bob has no idea who the movie star is.
"I'm going to have to ask you all to come on out of the hole so I can get some measurements, an accurate reading."
The movie star and the girl climb up the door and out of the hole. Richard is thinking it looks deeper still — the pink flags are now about halfway down. Bob radios in to the office.
"I'm at the Shadow Hill site; give me whatever you've got."
"Nothing," comes back. "We've got nothing."
"The horse has something in his mouth," the movie star says.
The horse has something in his mouth, and he's working it back and forth, moving it from side to side.
"The horse has the probe," Richard says.
"What the hell," Bob says.
The movie star slides down the hill and opens the horse's mouth, and the probe falls into his hand. "Thanks," he says, petting the horse. He climbs out of the hole, hands the slobbery probe to Bob, and spanks himself to get the dust off. The movie star moves with something extra, a kind of physical grace and confidence that is mesmerizing.
"That's not going to get a lot of information now. We're flying blind."
The movie star pulls the girl aside. "What's your horse's name?"
"Lucky."
"Do you know the name of Lucky's doctor? We need to have him give Lucky some medicine to keep him calm. We're going to get him out, but it's going to take a little work."
The movie star pulls a cell phone out of his back pocket and hands it to the girl.
"I have my own," she says, taking an even smaller one out of her pocket.
"While you're at it," Richard says, "call your mother and tell her where you are."
While the girl is on the phone, the movie star talks to Richard. "I don't trust this hole, and I don't trust this guy called Bob. We have to get the horse out. We need a helicopter to lift the horse out of the hole — how does that sound?"
"Good; do you have a helicopter?"
"I do, but I don't have a harness to pick up the horse. Give me a half-hour," the movie star says. "Make sure the vet shows up." The movie star runs up the street, head high, chest back. Minutes later, he zooms by on his motorcycle.
"Next time you see me, I'll be up there," he says, pointing up. He throws Richard a walkie-talkie. "We're on channel 12."
"Roger," Richard says, pushing the button and speaking into the walkie-talkie.
"We need a few things — old socks, to use as ear plugs for the horse, and something to use as a blindfold," the movie star says over his headset. "Can you get those?"
"Roger," Richard says, walking back towards the house.
"My assistant is working on the harness. It's not an easy item. But don't worry, my team is on it, and they work magic."
Richard goes inside, raids his sock drawer for what he thinks look like decent horse ear plugs, goes into the bathroom, takes the belt from his bathrobe, and hurries out, walkie-talkie in hand.
A police car on a routine patrol stops in front of the house. "Why didn't you call us? We like to know what's going on. What is going on?"
"Do you know who lives in that house?" Bob points downhill, not at the swimmer's house, but at the one right next door, just down the hill.
"I have no idea," Richard says.
"Well, that's something the police can do." He waves the cop over. "Find out who lives in that house. If this hill goes, it's going to run right into that house."
People driving by lean out of their car windows. "Is it a movie shoot?"
"No, a horse in a sinkhole."
"Cool."
"My mom is coming," the girl says. "She called the vet, they should all be here soon."
News leaks. Before the movie star is back, a television truck pulls up. Richard isn't sure if this is something that the movie star's assistant also arranged, or if when the cops radioed in that there was a horse in a hole, someone picked up the information. The street is filling with people.