Kris felt that now, their pleading eyes on her, and she knew there was nothing to do but shake her head.
Jesse was the first to break down. He began to sob, pulling Cap’s muzzle closer into his folded arm and kissing the horse on its blood-streaked snout.
“No,” Camilla was saying. “No, no, no, there must be something you can do. You’re a vet. You help animals every day—”
“Not like this,” Kris told her.
Camilla closed her eyes and pressed her balled-up fists against her forehead. “But he’s the last thing we have! Don’t you understand? He’s the last we have of her!”
Kris did not respond. There was nothing to do except give them their moment of unbridled grief. That was the most anyone in this situation could be granted.
Kris and Ben stood in silence, listening to the awful sobs of shattered parents and the quick, wheezing breaths of a dying creature.
“He’s a fighter,” Camilla croaked.
“But he’s not going to win,” Kris told her. “He’s in your hands now. I know you didn’t ask for this. But there’s no other way. You have to let him go.”
Camilla slowly shook her head, but Kris knew it was not a rejection of what she had said. It was Camilla’s reluctant acceptance of a situation over which none of them had any control. The destruction of flesh they saw before them was the work of something bigger, something so removed from its own creation that it had become alien. When it looked down, it saw nothing more than scurrying insects.
Whoever lets things like this happen never knew pain, Kris thought.
As if sensing the decision that had been made on his part, Cap gave a resigned snort and rubbed his nose against Jesse’s arm. Fresh tears flowed down Jesse’s cheeks, dripping down onto the horse’s cheek.
“Mommy?”
The child’s voice broke through the moment like a gunshot on a still night.
Sadie was on the other side of the fence. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if to show obedience even as she clearly ignored her mother’s one order.
“Sadie, go back to the car,” Kris told her.
“What’s wrong with the horse? Is he sick?”
“Go back to the car!”
“I’ll take her.” It was Jesse. He carefully set Cap’s head down onto the trampled grass, gave the animal one last, loving stroke on its muzzle, and then he stood, resting his hands on his knees to keep his unsteady legs from buckling.
“Stay,” Kris said.
But Jesse simply shook his head and trudged through the rain-slicked weeds, toward the fence.
Ben pulled up the second row of barbed wire like a bowstring. He planted his boot on the bottom two rows and shoved them down, creating a gap just large enough to slip through.
Jesse ducked down low, careful not to snag the back of his sweatshirt on the twisted barbs. And then he was once again on the other side. He took Sadie’s hand.
“Let’s go, sweetie.”
Kris watched as Jesse led her daughter off into the darkness, toward the Jeep. Sadie glanced back over her shoulder, and Kris mustered up a small smile, just to let her know it was okay.
Then Kris turned to Ben. She did not need to ask him again. She knew what his answer would be. She pointed to the Glock holstered at his side.
“Give it to me,” she whispered.
Ben slowly shook his head.
“I’m gone at the end of the summer. There’s no reason you should have to live here with this,” she told him.
Ben’s hand went to his sidearm. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, then it fell as he exhaled.
“I can do it,” he said.
“You have to have a steady hand—”
“I can do it.” There was desperation in his voice. I need to do it is what Kris heard.
She turned and called over, “Come on, Camilla.”
Camilla did not move. She was staring down at the bloody offense of Cap’s shredded belly.
“Camilla,” Kris called, louder.
“I’m staying,” Camilla said softly.
Ben let out a sigh of objection. “You don’t want to see this.”
Camilla’s voice rose, even as her gaze remained down on the suffering beast. “Poppy loved this horse, Ben.” The breeze picked up just then, blowing strands of Camilla’s long black hair across her face. They stuck to her tear-streaked cheeks. “She can’t be here with him. But I’m here. And I’m staying. This time, I get to say good-bye.”
Silent understanding fell over Kris and Ben.
Ben slipped his fingers to the holster strap and popped it loose. He slipped the gun free, keeping the barrel pointed safely down at the ground.
With her finger, Kris pointed toward the horse, tracing an invisible line across Cap’s forehead.
“Draw a line from one ear to the opposite eye, then do the same with the other, and put the bullet right in the middle of the X,” she told Ben.
He nodded and adjusted his grip on the Glock’s handle. “You two step back and cover your ears.”
Kris and Camilla did what they were told, although Kris stayed one step in front, hoping to block some of Camilla’s view.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say. I’m so, so sorry. This shouldn’t be happening. None of this should have happened. Cap should be okay. Poppy should be with you.
Over her shoulder, Kris saw Camilla press her fingers against her ears. Kris did the same, and the noise around them took on the sound of soft crunching, like boots in snow.
Ben wrapped his other hand around the first to steady the gun. His finger slid across the trigger as the barrel came up.
For an unbearable moment, he did not move. Kris thought he was going to back out, that she was going to have to do the deed after all, when without warning, Ben took two quick steps forward and pointed the gun directly at the center of Cap’s forehead.
The horse seemed to sense the inevitable. He turned his wide, panicked eyes up toward Ben and slowly blinked his beautiful lashes once, as if to tell Ben that he understood what was about to happen. Cap’s nostrils flared as he expelled a tired breath.
Kris saw the flash of fire explode from the gun a split second before she heard the sound. She watched as Cap’s front legs jerked involuntarily, his hooves clicking. She let her fingers slip from her ears, and she could hear the gunshot echoing away into the darkness that had settled over the rain-slicked town.
The horse’s eyes stared up into nothingness. There was a streak of red blood, like splattered paint, cutting across the lightning bolt of white just above his nose.
Behind her, Camilla began to bellow.
Kris knew she should turn around and offer words of comfort. Something. Anything to try to ease the woman’s pain. But she could not look away from that streak of blood above Cap’s muzzle. The tallgrass swayed slowly in the breeze around the horse’s motionless body.
Reholstering his gun, Ben marched past Kris to Camilla. He caught her in his arms just as her legs gave out. Camilla gripped tightly to the back of his uniform as if she were afraid Ben would let her go and she would fall, fall, fall forever into her grief.
“It’s over,” he whispered over and over in her ear. “It’s over. It’s over.”
Nothing about this feels over, Kris thought. Without a word, she spun around, the wet ground mushing under her shoes as she moved quickly to the fence. She crouched down to pass between the lines of barbed wire. One of the barbs grazed the back of her head and tugged at her hair. She gave her head a quick shake, and the lock came loose. When she was sure she was clear of the rusty barbs, she straightened up and walked briskly over the soaked grass and onto the gravel drive, attempting to leave the tragedy behind her. But there was no escape.