Read Online Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson, Anne Born - Free Book Online
Authors: Per Petterson, Anne Born
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house, and it was so palpable I saw it at once, and my father obviously noticed the same thing. Almost unwillingly we turned our heads and exchanged glances and recognised in each other's eyes what the other had seen. My face grew hot and I felt tense and at the same time ill at ease, but I did not know if it was due to my own surprising thoughts or because I saw my father had thought as I did. When he saw me blushing he laughed, softly, but not patronising at all, I'll give him that. He just laughed. Almost with enthusiasm.
We walked up through the grass to the mower and greeted Barkald and his wife, and Jon's mother shook hands with us and thanked us for joining them at Odd's funeral. She was solemn and slightly swollen around the eyes, but not defeated. She was tanned in a nice way, her dress blue, and her eyes were blue and glittering, and she was only a few years younger than my own mother. She was simply shining, and it was as if I saw her for the first time in a clear light and I wondered whether it was because of what had happened, whether something like that could make a person stand out and be luminous. I had to stare at the ground and across the meadow to avoid her eyes, and then I went over to the pile of stakes where the tools were and picked a hayfork to lean against while I looked at nothing and waited for Barkald to get started. My father stood talking for a while, then he came up too, picked a hayfork from the grass between two rolls of steel wire, drove it into the ground and waited as I did while we avoided looking at each other, and Barkald, who sat on the mowing machine seat, urged on the horse, lowered the cutters and began to move.
The field had been divided into four sections, into each of which would go a rack, and Barkald cut the grass in a straight line along the middle of the first section. A few metres from the edge of the meadow we knocked a strong peg into the ground at an angle with a sledgehammer, secured the end of one roll of wire around the peg and fastened it firmly, and then it was my job to lift the reel by the two handles shiny with wear and unroll the wire while I held it taut and walked backwards in the section Barkald had cut. It was heavy, after a few metres my wrists began to ache, and my shoulders hurt because I had to do three things at once with the heavy reel, and my muscles were not warm yet. As the wire gradually unrolled it became easier, but by then I was that much more exhausted, and there was suddenly an opposition to everything that was physical and I grew mad and did not want anyone there to see I was such a city boy, particularly while Jon's mother was looking at me with that blinding blue gaze of hers. I'd make up my own mind when it should hurt, and if it should show or not, and I pushed the pain down into my body so my face would not give me away, and with arms raised I unrolled the reel and the wire ran out until I came to the end of the meadow, and there I put the reel down in the short stubble of newly mown grass, the wire taut, all as calmly as I could and just as calmly straightened up and pushed my hands into my pockets and let my shoulders sink down. It felt as if knives were cutting my neck and I walked very slowly over to the others. When I passed my father, he raised his hand casually and stroked my back and said quietly:
'You did good.' And that was enough. The pain vanished and I was already eager for the next thing.
Barkald had finished mowing the first part of the field and had cut the first swathe of the next, and now he stood by the horse waiting for us to do the rest. He was the boss, and according to my father he was one of those who worked best sitting down and rested standing up, that is if it didn't go on too long, for then he had to sit down again anyway. If there was anything he needed a rest from. I wasn't so sure about that. Driving that horse wasn't exactly exhausting. It had done the job so many times before it could do it with its eyes
We walked up through the grass to the mower and greeted Barkald and his wife, and Jon's mother shook hands with us and thanked us for joining them at Odd's funeral. She was solemn and slightly swollen around the eyes, but not defeated. She was tanned in a nice way, her dress blue, and her eyes were blue and glittering, and she was only a few years younger than my own mother. She was simply shining, and it was as if I saw her for the first time in a clear light and I wondered whether it was because of what had happened, whether something like that could make a person stand out and be luminous. I had to stare at the ground and across the meadow to avoid her eyes, and then I went over to the pile of stakes where the tools were and picked a hayfork to lean against while I looked at nothing and waited for Barkald to get started. My father stood talking for a while, then he came up too, picked a hayfork from the grass between two rolls of steel wire, drove it into the ground and waited as I did while we avoided looking at each other, and Barkald, who sat on the mowing machine seat, urged on the horse, lowered the cutters and began to move.
The field had been divided into four sections, into each of which would go a rack, and Barkald cut the grass in a straight line along the middle of the first section. A few metres from the edge of the meadow we knocked a strong peg into the ground at an angle with a sledgehammer, secured the end of one roll of wire around the peg and fastened it firmly, and then it was my job to lift the reel by the two handles shiny with wear and unroll the wire while I held it taut and walked backwards in the section Barkald had cut. It was heavy, after a few metres my wrists began to ache, and my shoulders hurt because I had to do three things at once with the heavy reel, and my muscles were not warm yet. As the wire gradually unrolled it became easier, but by then I was that much more exhausted, and there was suddenly an opposition to everything that was physical and I grew mad and did not want anyone there to see I was such a city boy, particularly while Jon's mother was looking at me with that blinding blue gaze of hers. I'd make up my own mind when it should hurt, and if it should show or not, and I pushed the pain down into my body so my face would not give me away, and with arms raised I unrolled the reel and the wire ran out until I came to the end of the meadow, and there I put the reel down in the short stubble of newly mown grass, the wire taut, all as calmly as I could and just as calmly straightened up and pushed my hands into my pockets and let my shoulders sink down. It felt as if knives were cutting my neck and I walked very slowly over to the others. When I passed my father, he raised his hand casually and stroked my back and said quietly:
'You did good.' And that was enough. The pain vanished and I was already eager for the next thing.
Barkald had finished mowing the first part of the field and had cut the first swathe of the next, and now he stood by the horse waiting for us to do the rest. He was the boss, and according to my father he was one of those who worked best sitting down and rested standing up, that is if it didn't go on too long, for then he had to sit down again anyway. If there was anything he needed a rest from. I wasn't so sure about that. Driving that horse wasn't exactly exhausting. It had done the job so many times before it could do it with its eyes
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