The Horse Whisperer

'Shit. You're probably out chopping off cow's balls or whatever the hell it is they do out there. Listen, I… Oh, just call me will you?'

There was a troubled note in her voice that made A

'Cows don't have balls.'

'Speak for yourself kiddo. So we were lurking there, were we?'

'Screening, Luce, it's called screening. What's up?'

'He fired me.'

'What?'

'The son of a bitch fired me.'

A

The pretext had been a piece on women truck drivers. A

'I'm not going to let him do this,' A

'Kiddo, it's done. I'm gone.'

'No you're not. He can't do it.'

'He can A

There were a few seconds of silence while they both thought about that. A

'A

'What?'

'You better get back here, you know? And quick.'

Grace came home late, bubbling with all that had happened with Pilgrim. She helped A

'Pilgrim wouldn't look at me. It was weird. Like he was ashamed or something.'

'Of what happened?'

'No. I don't know. Maybe just of the way he is.'

She told A

'You okay?'

'I'm fine. Why?'

'I du

'Just tired I guess, that's all.'

When they were almost through eating, Robert called and Grace went and sat at A

She stood at the sink washing pans and listening to the frenzied clatter of a bug trapped among corpses he maybe recognized in one of the fluorescent lights. Lucy's call had cast a reflective shadow that even Grace's news had failed fully to dispel.

Her spirits had lifted briefly when she heard the scrunch of the Chevy's wheels outside bringing Grace back from the corrals. She and Tom hadn't spoken since the barn dance though he'd scarcely been out of her thoughts and she'd quickly checked her reflection in the glass door of the oven, thinking, hoping, that he'd come in. But he'd just waved and driven off.

Lucy's call had hauled her back - as in a different way Robert's did now - into what she knew with dulling acknowledgment to be her real life. Though what she meant by'real', A

One, it seemed to A

The bug in the light was trying a new tactic, taking long rests then hurling himself at the plastic casing with doubled effort. Grace was telling Robert how, the day after tomorrow, she was going to help drive the cattle up to the summer pastures and how they'd all be sleeping rough. Yes, she said, of course she'd be riding, how else was she supposed to go?

'Dad, you don't have to worry, okay? Gonzo's fine.'

A

'She's not coming,' Grace said. 'She says she's got too much work to do. She's right here, do you want to talk to her? Okay. I love you too Daddy.'

She vacated the chair for A

'I don't know. What do you think I should do?'

There was a pause and A

'Well, from out there, I don't think there's a whole lot you can do.'

'You're saying we should come back?'

'No, I'm not saying that.'

'With everything going so well with Grace and Pilgrim?'

'No, A

'That's what it sounded like.'

She could hear him inhale deeply and suddenly she felt guilty about twisting his words when she wasn't being honest about her own motives for staying. His voice, when he resumed, was measured.

'I'm sorry if that's how it sounded. It's wonderful about Grace and Pilgrim. It's important you all stay out there as long as you need to.'

'More important than my job, you mean?'

'Christ, A

'I'm sorry.'

They talked about other, less contentious things and by the time they said good-bye they were friends again, though he didn't tell her he loved her. A

Grace had the radio on in the bathroom. An oldies station was doing what they kept calling a Major Monkees Retrospective. They'd just played 'Daydream Believer' and now it was 'Last Train to Clarksville'. Grace must have fallen asleep or have her ears underwater.

Suddenly, and with suicidal clarity, A