I stayed while he checked on the filly. He tried to get her to nurse, but she couldn’t stand, so he picked her up, supporting her on his thighs, until she got a purchase and sucked hungrily. When she let go of the teat, he took off the bandages on her ankles, and the bare tendons were red and inflamed beneath.

Cort rewrapped the ankles with antibiotic salve, and set the baby on clean blankets to keep her out of the dirt and straw. The mare licked at the bandages, nudging the foal to stand. When we went inside, Cort took off his horsey jacket at the door.

That evening and all the next day, Cort went out to the field every three hours to pick up the filly and let her nurse. I went to work and to the law library, and called a few teachers to find out how the rules about home-schooling were enforced. When I came back, Cort’s truck was in the driveway, but the house was empty. I dropped the mail on the counter, and he came in through the side door, wearing his jacket.

“The jacket,” I said.

He took it off and left it on the bench outside.

“You were right about what people get away with,” I said. “There might as well not be any home-schooling regulations.”

Cort washed his hands a long time, ran a glass of water from the tap and looked at the ceiling as he drank it. I flipped through the stack of envelopes. Nothing with friendly handwriting on it.

“I’m thinking Ruth will get tired of the idea,” I said. “Or of the guy. But I might get her some schoolbooks in the meantime.”

Cort set his water glass down by the sink. “The baby’s feet are falling off,” he said. “One of them’s already gone.”

“Oh, God.”

“The tendon isn’t growing back and there’s nothing there to hold the feet on,” he said. “Perfectly good horse except she’s not going to have any feet.” His voice cracked on the word “feet.” He turned and rummaged through his kitchen drawer, beneath unpaid bills and Kite’s registration papers, until he found two small keys on a ring that jangled in his hand. I watched him go into the laundry room, unlock the file cabinet there and bring out a pistol with a revolving chamber. The gun dangled awkwardly in his hand.

“That leg just ends in a bony point,” he said. “The rest will go if she tries to stand up again. I have blankets over her so she can’t get up. They can’t cry, you know. She’s just out there sweating in the cold.”