The Law of Moses(81)

Her skin was tan and her hair bleached even blonder by the sun. Her body was long and lean—strong arms and legs and hands that were slim-fingered and firm on the reins. All of her was long . . . her hair, her legs, even her patience. She never seemed to lose her focus or her temper with the horses she worked with. She pushed and prodded and coaxed and wore them down. And she was wearing me down all over again. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She wasn’t the kind of girl who should ever have appealed to me. She wasn’t my type. It was the argument I’d had with myself when I’d come to Levan almost seven years ago and seen her, all grown up, laughing and riding and taunting me until I had to be close to her. She had focused in on me that summer, as if I was everything she had ever wanted. And that singular intensity had been my undoing.

Our son had that same quiet intensity. He often sat close by, perched on the fence, as if his spirit remembered the posture, though he had no physical form to make it necessary. He stared at his mother, at the horse she trained, and I wondered if Eli had come to visit his mother this way often. I wondered if the relationship between animal and woman, woman and child merged together in the quiet corral and created an oasis of comfort and peace that tamed all who entered there.

It was odd, seeing the woman and her child and knowing she was completely unaware that he was there with her, watching her, hovering over her like her own little guardian angel. I put down my tools and wandered over to watch her as she worked, wanting to be near her, to be near them, even if she would rather I stayed away.

When I climbed up on the fence near Eli, he didn’t seem to be aware of me, as if he was caught between worlds. But Georgia was aware of me, and she stiffened slightly, as if she considered running away, and then she straightened her back, and I knew she was telling herself that it was her “damn property and Moses can go to hell.” I could see it in the lift of her chin and the jerk of the rope in her hands. It made me smile. Luckily, she didn’t tell me to go to hell. She didn’t even tell me to leave.

So I sat, my eyes on the woman and the horse she wooed, but before too long, Eli’s memories became so loud, I had no choice but to listen in.



“How do horses talk, mommy?”

“They don’t talk, baby.”

“Then how do you know what he wants?”

“He wants the same things you want. He wants to play. He wants loves. He wants to eat and sleep and run.”

“And he doesn’t want to do his chores?”

“No. He doesn’t want to do his chores.”

I saw her face as if I was looking down at her from atop the horse, and she smiled up at me sweetly, laughter in her voice, her hand on my leg. Not my leg. Eli’s leg. Eli was showing me the memory. He must have been riding and Georgia must have been leading him around. The light was the same, sunset coloring the western hills, the corral bathed in a soft golden haze, the ground dappled with shadows and sunlight. I shook myself, trying to separate the scene in my head from the scene in front of me, but Eli wasn’t finished.

“Does Calico love me?”

“Of course!” Georgia laughed, but Eli was very serious.

“I love her too. But how do I tell her if she doesn’t talk?”

“You show her.”

“How do I show her? Do I make a big heart with my arms?” Eli curved his small arms in a shape that slightly resembled a smashed heart. He teetered a little in the saddle and Georgia reprimanded him gently.

“Hold on, son. And no. I don’t think Calico would understand if you made her a heart. You show her you love her by how you treat her. You take care of her. You spend time with her.”

“Should I pet her a lot?”

“That would be good.”

“Should I bring her apples to eat? She likes carrots too.”

“Not too many. You don’t want to make her love sick.”



“Moses!”

Georgia stood below me, her hands clinging to my legs as if to keep me on the fence, and I was teetering the way Eli had when he raised his arms to make a heart. I gripped the nearby post and slid down inside the corral, my body brushing against Georgia as I did. We both jumped, but neither of us gave ground. The horse she was working with, Cuss, had strolled to the other side of the corral, and we were alone. Alone with the sunset and the horses and Eli’s memories.

“Holy crap! Don’t do that! I thought you were going down!” Her face was so close I could see the specks of gold in her brown eyes and the little groove between her brows that indicated her concern. I stared too long and watched as the groove of concern became a scowl.

“Moses?” she asked doubtfully.

I lifted my eyes from her face and saw Eli, still perched on the fence, his curls lifting in the soft breeze as if the wind knew he was there and welcomed him home.

“He’s here, Georgia. And when he’s near, I kind of get lost in him.”

Georgia jumped back as if I’d produced a snake and offered it to her. But her eyes scanned the nearby area as if she couldn’t quite help herself.

“Thank you for not letting me fall,” I added softly. I felt disoriented, still feeling the dizzying effects of being in two places at once. Eli’s memories carried me away completely, and returning to the present was jarring. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, the little windows into his life, so complete yet so insufficient. I wanted to stay in his head all day. I wondered suddenly if horses and girls spoke the same love language, and I knew instinctively that Eli was trying to help me with Georgia, telling me how to woo her.