The Rattled Cage
After those kids got hurt, Beth was never the same. Something had let loose. At night we’d find her in the pens chewing the wood off the fences, cribbing or rolling her head so that it rebounded ridiculously off the sides. We’d awake to the sounds of dull churns and wrests that ran right through the house. Alice would hold her reins but even with me slipping a new rope under her belly, Beth would not be secured. She flipped and railed; her eyes folded like flowers. It was almost complete.