Lissa moved closer. Her heart dropped. The poor creature was in a bad way: one of her ears was ripped off and her back leg looked as if it were half torn off. The cat eyed her piteously, even as Lennox came and stood next to her.

“Aye, that’ll be her,” said Lennox shortly. “Tried to fish her out of a tree. She took fright and bolted.”

“Can you get the vet?” she said.

“No need,” said Lennox. “There’s a shovel in the van.”

“You’re kidding!” said Lissa. “There must be hope.”

She crouched down. The cat yowled and tried frantically, claws out, to back away, but couldn’t move because of her shattered leg. Her eyes were absolutely wild. It was heartbreaking to see.

Nina came out. “Vet’s over Kinross way,” she said, and Lennox swore.

“Bloody Sebastian. And those bloody horse shows.”

Sebastian was a good vet, but horses were his true love.

“Fix my cat!” came Carrie’s voice. She still wasn’t, Lissa noticed, getting out of the bus. Lissa couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see it.

“I feel very faint,” said the woman who’d been driving.

“Good!” came Carrie again. “Hope you die!”

Lennox glanced at the surgery. “Where’s Joan?”

Lissa winced. “She said she was going to . . .”

“The horse show,” said Nina. “Might have known. She’ll probably be assisting Sebastian.”

“Christ, if we ever needed her.”

The cat was yowling, but the sound was deeper and more groaning now.

“I could get the spade,” said Lennox helplessly.

“John Lennox, if you kill my cat I’ll have you up in a court of law,” said Carrie, storming out of the bus, face alight. “No cat murdering on my watch.”

Lennox’s face was a mask of despair. “You cannae let the wee thing suffer, Mrs. Brodie. You just cannae do that. It’s no right.”

The baby started crying, as if to chime in with the miserable atmosphere all around. Nina looked at Lissa inquiringly, who stared back, helpless. She didn’t have a clue what to do. Carrie had now burst into noisy sobs.

“Somebody do something! Not you, John Lennox!!”

Lissa fumbled in her pocket for the key to the surgery but then remembered that Joan kept the door unlocked. She couldn’t, could she? It was absurd—there was a world of difference between a boy lying on the ground and a cat. They were completely different. But still, somehow, she felt something surge within her. She put her sleeves over her hands and attempted to lift the screaming cat up.

“What are you doing?” said Lennox, still outraged that there was an animal in such pain. Lennox was an extremely conscientious and humane farmer, but he was not remotely squeamish. To his mind, to leave an animal in this state was utmost cruelty.