David Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

David woke before dawn with the stall waiting on the ridge and the stallion somewhere in the trees above it. He pulled on the same coat he had worn since the storm. Halfway up the trail he stopped. The wool still carried the smell of the two wolves he had gutted that night, and his hands, no matter how he scrubbed them, held it under the nails. He climbed the last of the trail anyway, telling himself the horse would come to the oats. The stallion was already inside the rails when David reached the clearing. It ate from the trough with its head low. David set one boot on the open side and the horse's head snapped up. Its nostrils worked. It backed hard into the far rail, spun, and put its shoulder against the wood. The trough tipped. Oats scattered. David stepped out and the horse stood shaking, eyes rolled white, staring at his coat. He walked back down to the cabin and stood in his front room. The wool coat, the wool shirt beneath it, the trousers, the gloves — all of it carried the kill. Soap at the basin would not be enough. He crossed the yard to the small timber hut behind the lodge and lit the stove inside it. He stripped everything he had worn that night and hung it from the rafters where the smoke and heat could work. He sat on the cedar bench and sweated for an hour. When he came out, his skin smelled of pitch and hot wood and nothing else. He pulled clean clothes from the chest at the foot of the country bed. Wool he had not worn in a month. He rubbed his hands with crushed pine needles from the woodpile until the beds of his nails burned. Then he went to the cellar and took down the basket a neighbor had left him at the end of harvest. The apples were still firm. He cut two into quarters and set them in a cloth. His herding dog followed him out of the yard, blue and brown coat bright in the morning sun. David spoke to it once and it dropped and stayed at the edge of the timber. He did not want a second animal near the rails. He walked into the clearing slow. The stallion was grazing beside the stall. It lifted its head, held, and did not bolt. David reached the open side and stepped in. The horse watched him. Its ears came forward. David set a quarter of apple on the flat of his palm and held it out at the length of his arm. The stallion crossed the stall in three steps and took the apple from his hand. Its lip brushed his skin. David did not move until the horse had eaten all four quarters. Then he walked out. He had stood inside the rails with the animal, and the animal had chosen to eat from him. The bad hoof was still bad. But he had his hand on the work now.