The Horse Whisperer by Nicholas Evans Read Free Book Online Page A

on admiringly. The hunter took some bullets from a pocket and calmly started loading the rifle.
    “Thing’s bleedin’ to death,” he said.
    “Yeah?” said Logan. “You’re a vet too, huh?”
    The guy gave a scornful little laugh. He went on slotting bullets into the magazine with the infuriating air of someone who knew he would be proven right. Logan wanted to strangle him. He turned back toward the bridge and took a careful step forward. Immediately the horse backed away and now he was in the sunlight on the far side of the bridge and Logan could see there wasn’t anything stuck to the animal’s chest. It was a flap of pink skin hanging loose from a terrible L-shaped gash, about two feet long. Blood was pulsing out of the exposed flesh and streaming down his breast into the water. Logan could now see that the wetness on the horse’s face was blood too. Even from here he could tell the nasal bone had been smashed in.
    Logan had a sinking feeling in his stomach. This was one hell of a beautiful horse and he hated the idea of putting him down. But even if he could get near enoughto control the bleeding, the damage looked so severe, it was odds on the animal would die. He took another step toward him and Pilgrim backed off again, turning to check out the escape upstream. There was a sharp sound behind him, the hunter racking the bolt of his rifle. Logan turned on him.
    “Will you shut the fuck up?”
    The hunter didn’t respond, just gave Koopman a knowing look. There was a rapport developing here that Logan was keen to break. He put his bag down and squatted to get some things out of it, talking to Koopman now.
    “I want to see if I can get to him. Could you loop over to the far side of the bridge there and block him off?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Maybe get yourself a branch or something and wave it at him if he looks like he’s heading your way. You might have to get your feet wet.”
    “Yes sir.” He was already going back up into the trees. Logan called after him.
    “Holler when you’re ready. And don’t get too close!”
    Logan loaded a syringe with sedative and stuffed some other things he thought he might need into the pockets of his parka. He was aware of the hunter’s eyes on him but ignored him and stood up. Pilgrim’s head was low but he was watching every move they made. They waited, the rush of water loud about them. Then Koopman called and as the horse turned to see, Logan stepped carefully down into the river, concealing the syringe in his hand as best he could.
    Here and there among the torrent were slabs of exposed rock, washed clean of snow, and he tried to use them as stepping-stones. Pilgrim turned back and saw him. He was getting agitated now, not knowing whichway to run and he pawed the water and snorted out another slick of bloody froth. Logan had run out of stepping-stones and knew the moment had come to get wet. He lowered one foot into the current and felt the icy surge over the top of his boot. It was so cold, it made him gasp.
    Koopman appeared in the bend of the river beyond the bridge. He too was up to his knees in the water and he had a big birch branch in his hand. The horse was looking from one of them to the other. Logan could see the fear in the animal’s eye and there was something else there too which scared him a little. But he spoke to him in a soft, soothing lilt.
    “It’s okay fella. It’s okay now.”
    He was within twenty feet of the horse now and was trying to figure out how he was going to do this. If he could get hold of the bridle, he might have a chance of giving the shot in the neck. In case something went wrong, he had loaded more sedative into the syringe than he would need. If he could get it into a vein in the neck, he would have to inject less than if he shot into a muscle. In either case, he would have to take care not to give too much. A horse in as bad a state as this couldn’t be allowed to fall unconscious. He would have to try and inject just