Читать книгу The Country Vet - Eleanor Jones - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

JAKE SETTLED EASILY into the saddle, picking up the reins with a confidence born of hours on horseback. Beneath him Carlotta sidled, snorting and shaking her head, sensing her master’s mood and anticipating what she knew was to come. She needed no aid to urge her forward as he turned his eyes, as always, toward the skyline.

There was something about the vast infinity of the sky that made a strange kind of sense to Jake, when it seemed that there was little sense in life anymore. The way the bleak, ancient mass of the fell met the sky’s glorious, timeless canopy, made him feel somehow insignificant, a mere dot in the march of time. He liked insignificance.

The mare’s hooves echoed in his ears as his mind spilled over with memories—memories that flooded out from their confinement, painful and raw. A whole year, twelve long, endless months, and the accident still felt as fresh as it had on the day it happened. Every morning, when he awoke from yet another restless night, he went through the motions, working as hard as he could, talking, smiling, eating—and yet all he felt inside was sadness. The only time he felt even half alive these days was when he was riding.

Asking Carlotta to canter, Jake threw caution to the wind, gathering her up to jump the gate. She rose willingly beneath him, landing effortlessly on the tough grass and galloping up the steep slope of the fell. He leaned forward against her neck, feeling her power beneath him, trying to live in the moment and push all the memories aside. Tara’s cold eyes, the confusion in Robbie’s; his mother, warm and vibrant...and Lucy, dear little Lucy.

* * *

THE CALL CAME in just as Cass was on her way back to the surgery—as the golden, late-summer sun slipped slowly behind the dark mass of the Lakeland hills.

Her first day at the Low Fell Animal Clinic had proved to be a challenge, to say the least, and it seemed that it wasn’t over yet. She forced an image of the irate, red-faced farmer in his muck-splattered overalls, bellowing like one of his bulls, firmly to the back of her mind. “Cass here,” she responded. “What have you got for me?”

Sally’s clear voice filled Cass’s car, her tone clipped and urgent. “We have an emergency...a horse...at Jake Munro’s place. Jake usually insists on having Donald, but he’s miles away. Where are you now?”

Cass glanced around at the rugged countryside.

“I don’t really have a clue, but I’m just leaving Fell Side Farm, if that’s any help...”

“That’s great, you must be nearby. Carry on down the hill toward the village and take your first left up a narrow lane. You can’t miss it. You’ll see the sign on your right—Sky View.”

The sun finally vanished, and long, shadowy fingers fell across the road ahead. Cass headed down the hill, peering over her steering wheel. “What’s the problem, anyway?”

“Sounds like colic. The guy who rang in, Jake Munro’s dad, Bill, seems to think it’s serious.”

“Okay.” Cass blinked, trying to focus her over-stretched brain on the task ahead. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

The narrow lane crept, ribbonlike, around the steep hillside, down toward the dark, shimmering lake far below. She increased her speed as much as she dared, standing on the brakes as amber eyes glowed eerily in the road ahead and breathing a sigh of relief when a flock of sheep scattered in front of her car.

Down in the valley, lights were beginning to twinkle, bright pinpoints in the distance, homes where families were gathering after a busy day, smiling, communicating. Families! Cass felt suffocated as she thought about her own family. It seemed ages since she’d seen her parents, Tim and Molly. Her mother had rung just last night to tell her about the lump she’d found in her breast. It was benign, which was of course a huge relief, but the fact that she hadn’t even told her about it until it was all over had upset Cass.

She knew why her mum had kept quiet, of course, and it was so typical. “I didn’t want to worry you if it wasn’t really necessary,” she’d insisted.

But what if it had been necessary, Cass wondered, and she hadn’t been there to support her mother. For the last few years, all she’d thought about was her career, endlessly studying for the next exam and eventually trying to get a job. Now she had a job, a good job, so surely she should have a chance to stop and reflect, to spend time with her parents. But she was still thinking about herself and trying to get ahead. She had only just started at Low Fell Animal Clinic, but she already knew she wanted to specialize in horses.

Had she been selfish in her single-minded quest to become a vet? she asked herself, shifting down the gears. The answer sprang easily to her mind as an image of her mother’s face settled into place, her tired blue eyes filled with love and kindness. Her mother was always working and always worrying about her only child.

Yes, Cass realized with a lurch of guilt, she had been selfish, yet she knew her parents would not have had it any other way. She had arrived in the world as an afterthought, disrupting their world when they’d both turned forty. Fitting in a baby around running the busy village store her parents had bought when they were first married had been quite a feat, according to Molly. Cass had spent most of her early years in a corner near the vegetables, first in a pram and later in a playpen.

Cass’s heart twisted as she thought about her mother’s recent health scare. The diagnosis could have been serious, and she wouldn’t have known. And Cass bet her mum would have barely taken a day off work. Her parents loved running the store, though. Their customers were their friends, and there was nothing Molly and Tim liked better than to pass the time of day with them, bragging a little about how well she was doing. So at least she’d done that for them. She sighed, peering at her surroundings. At least she’d made them proud.

The sign appeared suddenly, jumping out at her from around a curve in the lane and jerking her from her reverie. Sky View Stables was boldly written in an arc above the noble head of a black horse. Cass spun the wheel and swung her hatchback down the gravel drive, suddenly apprehensive about what she might find here.

* * *

BILL MUNRO PULLED at his whiskered chin. Why did it have to be Rosie, and where the hell was Jake? He had found the little chestnut pony out in the far meadow. She was in a bad way, sweating and kicking her belly, her head covered with cuts where she’d been thrashing on the ground. He had tried to ring Jake, of course, but got no signal, so he’d called the vet before managing to persuade the reluctant pony back to the yard. He had settled her down in a deep bed of straw, but it seemed that all the fight had left her. That was what worried him most—her despondency. He’d seen the signs before, and it didn’t look good.

Car wheels crunched on the gravel. The throb of an engine sputtered and died as the vehicle slithered to a stop. Bill ran out into the yard, waving 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 we’d better leave it to Donald.... No doubt Jake will be apologizing after.”

“I don’t need his apologies,” she said quietly, walking to her car. “I did what I had to do...as he’ll find out.”