Part 3
“Take it out,” Beth said. She looked at the veterinarian rather than at the pencil marks. “Do whatever gives you room.”
Dr. Foster nodded and returned to her team. Beth stepped away from the entrance before someone had to ask her.
Frank stood at the edge of the taped boundary holding the feeding pan a worker had brought out of Nell’s stall. It was green rubber, one rim chewed almost flat. Beth remembered buying a stack of those pans with Sam and arguing because he wanted twelve when they needed eight.
“I’ve got a smaller crate at home,” Frank said. “It would fit.”
“They’ve decided what she needs.”
“It’d save cutting.”
Beth looked at the pan. “Did you take that from the tack room?”
“You said I could use what was here.”
She had. She remembered being pleased that somebody would use the equipment instead of letting it become one more thing her daughter thought she should sell.
“Tell them if the pan helps,” she said. “Then let them work.”
Frank stared toward the stall. He carried the pan to Rachel and began explaining something about Nell lifting bowls with her teeth. Rachel listened, turned the pan over to examine the worn underside, and set it with the supplies.
The afternoon was warm enough for gnats, although the shaded grass still held the morning’s damp. Beth took off her field coat and folded it over a fence rail. She had dressed for an hour outside and now could not imagine leaving before dark.
The crew braced the gate and cleared the equipment from its path. The saw stayed outside until Dr. Foster said the lioness was immobilized and it was safe to approach.
When the cutting began, Beth felt it through the soles of her boots. She had expected a clean whine. Instead, the blade caught in the old oak with a rough, intermittent growl, and someone stopped to change its angle.
Sam had bought that oak from a neighbor who was taking down a tobacco shed. He had made Rachel pull the nails before he let her help plane it, paying her a nickel apiece until she discovered a coffee can full of nails he had already removed. She claimed those too. He paid her and complained about her bookkeeping for the rest of the summer.
A worker carried the first board outside. The pencil line from Rachel’s ninth birthday ended at a ragged cut. Below it, the faint R had survived.
“Where do you want this?” the man asked.
Beth pointed beyond the fence, away from the equipment. She did not trust herself to speak normally yet. He put it down with the other wood and returned inside.
Behind the screen, a technician called out numbers that meant nothing to Beth. Rachel held a light without shifting her wrist, and Beth watched until her own shoulder began to ache.
The mother bobcat was still outside, moving between the weeds and the blocked opening in the barn wall. The team had set a covered box trap along that route, with bedding from the young cats’ pen inside. When the female emerged, everyone on that side of the building withdrew.
At the entrance, Dr. Foster called for a clear path. The crate came through with the lioness inside, and for several seconds Beth could see her entire body: the surprisingly large paws, the pale underside of her jaw, a tuft of loose straw caught against one ear.
A technician walked beside the crate watching the animal. Rachel walked backward ahead of it, guiding the wheels over the uneven threshold. At the place where the post had stood, she lifted one hand and the crew slowed.
Then they were through.
Beth had been holding her breath. She let it out too quickly and had to put a hand on the fence until the pasture settled beneath her.
Dr. Foster checked Nell again before the crate was secured in the equipped transport vehicle. When Beth asked whether that meant she would live, the veterinarian shook her head slightly.
“It means she’s made it this far. She’s got a lot to recover from.”
The staff divided their work around the remaining animals. The servals disappeared into separate covered carriers. The hawks came out in dark transport boxes, one giving a single hard thump that made Frank raise his head.
Beth was asked to stand beyond the fence holding one end of a canvas screen. It kept the loading area out of the animals’ view, and the work was ordinary enough to calm her. She watched a small brown spider travel the seam beside her thumb while people moved on the other side.
The two young bobcats were prepared for transport as the light began to leave the pasture. Rachel came out with one carrier while another worker brought the second. Beth could not see the injured paw, only a pair of eyes in the narrow strip of uncovered mesh.
“Will they be together?” she asked.
“When it’s appropriate,” Rachel said. “They’ll be able to hear and smell each other tonight.”
“And their mother?”
“We’re giving her room.”
The first transport left with Nell and Dr. Foster. Frank watched it down the lane without asking to ride along. The team still waiting for the adult bobcat moved its vehicles back behind the ridge and lowered the remaining lights.
Beth retrieved her field coat from the fence, pulled it on, and sat in the open back of her station wagon, with Rachel a few feet away. Somewhere in the dark, the creek struck the bridge supports with a regular hollow sound. Rachel finished the flattened sandwich from her pocket and put the wrapper inside her empty coffee cup.
“I’m sorry about Sunday,” Beth said.
Rachel kept looking toward the dim barn. “Which part?”
Beth opened her mouth, then closed it. She had meant the casserole remark.
“All of it,” she said.
“I can’t do all of it right now.”
“All right.”
The radio on Rachel’s belt murmured. She listened, stood, and beckoned Beth toward the staff member watching the trap camera from behind a parked truck.
On the tablet, the female moved along the barn wall with her head low. She stopped at the blocked opening and put her nose to its edge. One paw lifted against the panel; then she dropped back and turned toward the covered trap.
Beth leaned forward. The pale screen showed the lead beneath the cat’s jaw, its loose end trailing across the dirt.
At the entrance, the female stretched her neck without moving her hind feet. She smelled the bedding, drew back, and looked toward the barn. Beth’s fingers closed on the hem of her coat.
The cat put one forepaw over the threshold. The other followed, but her body stayed outside, thin shoulders shifting as she reached forward. Beth could feel again the weight that had pressed through her fleece that morning.
No one spoke. The female stepped farther in, paused, then drew her hindquarters into the trap. The loose end of the lead slipped after her.
The door fell with a flat clack.
On the screen, the cat wheeled toward it. Rachel was already moving with the other worker, and Beth stayed beside the truck as they went down to cover the trap and check it. A rough growl carried across the grass.
When Rachel signaled that the team was ready, Beth came forward to help with the folded screen. The trap was completely covered now. She could hear the animal shifting inside and see the canvas tremble without knowing which part of her had touched it.
From one of the young cats’ carriers came a brief, high call. The movement beneath the canvas stopped. A lower sound answered, and Rachel paused with her hand on the carrier latch.
Beth looked at her daughter’s face. Rachel was listening, her eyes lowered, and for those few seconds Beth let herself listen too.
Mercer returned from the barn carrying Frank’s keys. Before he handed them over, Beth asked for the square brass one. Frank looked at her, then held the ring still while she worked it free with her thumbnail.
She put the kitchen key in her pocket. Frank accepted the rest without making a remark.
At Rachel’s truck, Beth reached for the carrier handle, eager to finish the last useful task. Rachel already had help. Beth stepped aside and watched the two of them secure it for the drive.
“I could come tomorrow,” Beth said. “Bring lunch. Wash things.”
“Please don’t come to the center.” The answer was quiet enough that the other worker kept checking the tie-down without looking up. “Rachel, I was only—” “I know. I still need you not to.” Beth moved back from the open door. Her daughter climbed into the truck, and Beth stood with both hands empty while the engine started…
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