his arms.
“Over here!”
* * *
CASS CLIMBED FROM her car with controlled urgency, reaching for her bag and breathing deeply to slow the heavy beating of her heart. This was her job and she was well trained to do it. She turned toward the old man, noting the fear and panic in his blue eyes, and took control of the situation as professionalism kicked in. Her voice sounded firm and calm in her ears, as if she was watching herself from afar. “Right, now tell me the symptoms clearly and slowly.”
“It’s Rosie,” the man responded, already heading off across the yard. “She’s bad. Been like that a long time, I think.”
Cass followed hurriedly, running the procedure in her mind.
The pony was standing with its head lowered, sides heaving and a dead look in its eye. Cass’s heart sank—twisted gut in its final stages. She went through the motions, checking the pony’s heart rate and respiration and trying to ease her pain, knowing in her heart that it was already too late.
“Are you the owner?”
Bill Munro’s face was gray, his response stilted. “She belongs to...my son.”
Cass looked at him, her hand upturned in a gesture of helplessness. “I think you know she’s in a bad way. I doubt she’d make it to surgery, even if you wanted to try.”
“Twisted gut?”
She nodded sadly. “I’ve seen it before in old ponies. It could be a bit of fatty tissue that’s twisted itself around the gut. Surgery is always an option, but it has to be fast, and to be honest...”
Bill finished the sentence for her. “You don’t really believe it would be worth putting her through it,”
Cass nodded again, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I am so sorry.”
Bill pulled out his phone, dialing Jake for the twentieth time. No signal. He thrust it back in his pocket, making the decision. “Just do it.”
“You’re giving me permission to euthanize her?”
“Yes.... Don’t worry. I’ll take the rap.”
Cass’s heart ran cold as she looked at the pretty little chestnut mare whose eyes were dull now with pain and fatigue, her sides straining with the effort to breathe. Cass brushed her hand across her eyes. This wasn’t why she’d trained to become a vet. Her quest was to save life, not end it. She drew the drug into a syringe, automatically tapping out the air bubbles, searching for a vein. She met no resistance from the exhausted pony.
* * *
JAKE STAYED OUT on the hillside as the sun sank slowly downward, lighting the sky with red and gold. Carlotta trotted, eager for home, and he let out a heavy sigh, turning her face back down the steep slope as darkness settled around them.
No matter how bad he felt inside, there were still horses waiting to be fed and chores to do. Life went on remorselessly, and he knew that he would, too—what else was there to do? He’d coped for the past year and he would cope for the next, and the one after that, going through the motions of his empty existence while always believing that if he’d dealt with things a bit better after Tara left, then his mum and Lucy would still be here. His life would still have meaning, and they’d all have a future together.
Jake saw the car as Carlotta jogged sideways through the gate into Sky View. A hatchback, dark green, abandoned in the center of the yard. He reined in, leaping to the ground and drawing the reins over the mare’s head in one smooth, easy movement. Who was here, and what did they want? The gray mare ran eagerly into her stall, diving into her hay net as soon as he removed her bridle.
“I’ll come back and brush you in a bit,” he told her, sliding home the door bolt and depositing her tack on the ground before striding toward the car.
Rosie’s stall door was ajar, he noted with a sudden jolt of alarm, peering into the sweet-smelling darkness of her empty stall. Voices trickled over from across the yard. There was someone in the barn. A light shone through the half-open door, casting a glow into the evening gloom and bringing a glisten of gold to the feathers of the ruddy-brown chicken that squawked its displeasure at being disturbed. What was going on? He hesitated, suddenly afraid of what he might find in the barn.
She materialized as if by magic, sleek dark hair and pale skin, staring at him with fathomless brown eyes. He sensed her pain, felt it even before she spoke, and for one endless moment she seemed so familiar, so vulnerable, that his every instinct was to just hold out his arms. When she stepped toward him, holding his gaze, her eyes shone with what looked like unshed tears. Something tore at the numb place in his heart and he froze, raising his barriers as her dark eyes slid away from his. There was no room in his life for compassion anymore, or any other emotion for that matter—only the raw anger that was his constant companion.
Her voice was soft and gentle, caring. “I am so, so sorry.”
The beam of light from the barn fell across his foot. He stared at it, watching the dust dance within its confines before glancing back at the girl.
“There was nothing else I could do.”
“I gave her permission.” His father stepped into view, jaw set and eyes shadowed with grief. Jake pushed past him, his heart already hitting his boots.
Rosie lay motionless on the soft sweet hay. Her eyes were already glazed. He dropped to his knees, stroking her face. The pain he had tried to block out rushed back in one tumultuous wave of grief, erupting into anger. An anger he directed at the woman who had ended Rosie’s life and taken Lucy away from him all over again—the woman who had dared to penetrate the part of him that was so carefully sealed away.
“I am so, so sorry,” she repeated.
Jake towered above her, fists tightly clenched as rage seeped from his every pore. His voice was icy cold. “You did this?”
Cass tried to explain, stumbling on the words. “The pony was suffering. I had no other option.”
He just stared at her, taut-jawed and hollow-eyed. “Donald could have saved her. Why isn’t he here?”
“No one could have saved her. It was too late.”
Jake’s face was blank, expressionless. “I want a postmortem.”
Her heart thudded hard inside her chest as she fought for breath “I’ll do it right now.”
“No!” He turned on his heel. “I’ll get Donald to do it.”
She watched his tall, angular figure disappear across the yard, back toward the stable, not realizing she was twisting her fingers fiercely together until she felt the warmth of a rough hand over hers.
“I am so sorry, lass,” Bill Munro said with a sad smile. “I know you had to do it. I can only apologize for my son but he does have his reasons for being so hostile.”
“I am truly sorry about your pony,” she said again, pushing her hands deep into her pockets. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do a postmortem right now?”
Bill shook his head. “Thanks, but
