against her eyelids.
“Hi, Dad, it’s just me. How’s Mum?”
Her jovial tone sounded forced, and he obviously knew it.
“You really don’t need to worry, Cass. It was just a scare, a false alarm. She wouldn’t even have told you at all if I hadn’t insisted.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. I need to know these things. She should have told me right away.”
“That’s what I said, love. Anyway, how are you, and how’s that new job of yours going?”
By the time Cass had related her experience at Sky View to her dad and made him chuckle at her story about the manure-splattered farmer, she felt a whole lot better.
“Now don’t you worry about us,” her dad told her. “Just concentrate on your career. We might come over to see you soon, if we can get anyone to mind the store for a day or two.”
Feeling calmer after talking to her dad, Cass finished her light meal and called it a night, expecting to find sleep elusive. However, her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow, and the next thing she knew, the school bell was ringing in her dreams, calling her in to lessons. She jerked awake, reaching out to turn off her alarm clock, totally in the present as the events of yesterday came back to her.
The sun was hardly over the hills when Cass and Donald set off for Sky View Stables.
The middle-aged vet glanced across at her. “You’re very quiet,” he remarked, nosing his large four-by-four up the narrow lane.
Cass might have been sitting beside him but her head was definitely elsewhere.
He tried again. “You okay, lass? Don’t let Jake upset you.”
Cass started, her thoughts rushing back to the present. “Oh, I’m not letting him upset me. I was just miles away.”
“I could see that. In a nice place, I hope.”
“I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer, I’m afraid—one of my worse traits. To be honest, I was thinking about my mum. She hasn’t been well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Noting the kind expression on his face, she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. “Thanks. And...look, I’m really sorry about you having to do this postmortem. I could easily have done it myself yesterday.”
“No worries,” Donald said. “I think I need to apologize on Jake’s behalf. He can be a bit touchy, but he does have his reasons.”
“That’s exactly what Todd said,” Cass murmured. “But surely there’s no excuse for downright rudeness?”
Donald smiled. “I heard that Tom Alston was pretty rude to you yesterday, too, but that doesn’t seem to have got to you.”
Cass twisted around to face him, her interest raised. “What is this reason, for Jake Munro’s attitude? Or is it just an excuse?”
Donald put the vehicle into gear. It juddered violently, throwing Cass into the window.
“Hey,” she cried. “I do want to get there, you know.”
“Sorry, this old vehicle could do with some attention. Anyway, are you sure about that, after yesterday...getting there, I mean?”
Cass’s mouth set into a firm line as she glanced at him, catching his eye.
“Yesterday would have been a tragedy no matter who owned the little mare. I did what needed to be done. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”
“Good for you.” He nodded. “And I guess you’ll be looking forward to saying ‘I told you so.’ Is that why you wanted to come?”
Cass’s response was immediate. “No, not at all. I came because I want to see it through. The guy was obviously very upset. Anyone would be. It still doesn’t give him the right to be so unpleasant.”
“What if I told you that his mother and little daughter were both killed in an accident a while ago,” Donald said quietly, concentrating on the road ahead. “And he doesn’t like people to talk about it, so you never heard it from me.”
A lurch of sympathy left Cass momentarily speechless. “I didn’t realize,” she eventually managed. “And of course the chestnut was his daughter’s pony.”
Donald shrugged. “Yes, but you weren’t to know. It wouldn’t have made any difference, anyway...if she did have a twisted gut.”
Cass fought back a sharp retort, staring out the window but seeing nothing. Jake would understand soon enough, and then maybe next time no one would question her.
“Was it his fault?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, no,” Donald said. “Well, at least not directly. I think he may blame himself, though. He was away, competing in Europe, when it happened.”
“Competing?” echoed Cass.
Donald nodded, carefully negotiating the entrance to Sky View.
“He used to show jump. Top level, too. He gave it up after the accident.”
“So what does he do now?”
Cass’s question fell on deaf ears as Jake Munro’s tall figure materialized in front of the Land Rover, forcing it to stop. He was just as she remembered—ruggedly handsome and fierce, his expression extremely arrogant. Was he like that before the accident? Somehow, Cass thought he probably was.
The tense line of his jaw softened when Donald climbed out of the vehicle. Jake almost smiled.
“Morning,” he called, holding out his hand and ignoring Cass. Donald took it, pumping it up and down, his soft white fingers clutched in Jake’s broad, suntanned grip.
“Bad business,” Donald remarked. “How are you holding up?”
Jake’s response was curt and to the point. “These things happen. I just needed to be sure.”
He looked pointedly at Cass, who held his gaze unflinchingly, raising her chin with an air of defiance.
“I’m already sure,” she said.
“Right, then,” interrupted Donald. “Let’s get on with it.”
Jake watched, arms wrapped across his chest and dark eyes narrowed, until Donald took out his scalpel. Then he turned on his heel and walked away to lean against the paddock fence, resting his head on his forearms. For a moment, Cass felt like going to him and placing her hand on his taut shoulders. No matter how irritating he was, the poor guy was suffering—she could see that.
“Look at this,” Donald said, getting her attention.
Cass had seen enough postmortems and dead creatures in the last few years to make her pretty hardened. They’d gone to a better place—it was only their owners who suffered now. But this pony, Rosie, had gotten to her somehow.
