Shadow On The Fells. Eleanor Jones

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       CHAPTER THREE

      BEFORE THE CRAZY dog appeared, Chrissie had been feeling good, gazing fondly down on High Bracken, glad to be almost home with the gathering done for another year.

      An unexpected rush of nostalgia had brought tears to her eyes as she remembered all the times she’d herded the sheep with her dad. He used to point out things of interest as they traversed the huge expanse of steep fellside: a dog fox observing their progress, a peregrine falcon swooping down to grab a smaller bird in its lethal talons and then dropping to the ground to boldly pluck its catch.

      This was a place where only the strong survived, and she had to be strong, too—that was what her father had always taught her, and she still tried so hard to follow his advice.

      An outlying sheep took her attention then, bringing her train of thought back to the job at hand; it was moving farther away from the flock, intent on escape. She whistled sharply to Fly. The dog caught her eye, eager to follow her command.

      “Come way out,” she called with a sweep of her arm, and the small blue-gray and black dog was on it, calmly persuading the reluctant ewe to return to the flock with the patience and expertise that had made him a champion at the sheepdog trials last year.

      It was as she’d turned her attention back to the main flock that the fluffy, cream-colored creature had burst into view, leaping up over the edge of the shallow ravine and racing toward them. For a fleeting second she’d thought it was a wayward sheep...and now she saw how wrong she’d been.

      “No! Get away!” Chrissie screamed again, waving her crook madly as the big crazy dog continued to leap and bound amid her animals. One sheep had already disappeared from view, but she had to get things under control with the flock before she could check on it.

      Tess and Fly sped at the dangerous usurper, but Chrissie stopped them with a low whistle; the last thing she wanted was for her dogs to go haywire, too. That would really freak the sheep out. But it made no difference. The collies raced around the scattering sheep, trying to keep them contained, but the sheeps’ survival instincts had kicked in and they fled in panic, their pregnant bellies swaying.

      The fluffy cream dog, on the other hand, was in his element, running this way and that, barking madly. She yelled at it, screaming into the wind to no avail.

      That was when she saw the man.

      A hot flood of anger consumed her as he hurried over, a tall, dark-haired stranger dressed in city clothes. He was obviously responsible for this disaster. His face was bright red from climbing the hill and his breath came in loud gasps.

      “Get your dog away from my sheep!” Chrissie yelled. “Now.”

      With a brief glance in her direction, the man carried on in a shambling run toward the flock, spooking them almost as much as his dog. Chrissie watched helplessly as sheep disappeared in every direction. She whistled madly to her collies, but she would have needed half a dozen dogs to keep the terrified creatures together.

      “Max!” cried the man. “Max! Bad dog. Come here.”

      The dog ignored him, but as it ran by he managed to grab hold of its collar. For a moment, they struggled. The dog bucked against his confinement and the man staggered forward. If they hadn’t been in such a desperate situation, Chrissie would have laughed as he sprawled to the ground, still holding on to the broad leather collar.

      But despondency instantly replaced the momentary flicker of humor. She whistled to Tess and Fly to come back, and they raced over immediately, dropping down in front of her, pink tongues hanging from the sides of their mouths and their bright eyes eager for their mistress’s next command. With the cream-colored dog in the man’s grasp, the sheep had calmed somewhat, but at best she would be spending the rest of the afternoon gathering the ones that had scattered. At worst...well, she didn’t want to think about that just yet.

      “Good dogs. Stay,” she told her collies, turning to stare angrily at the man who had caused such chaos. He was on his feet now, looking awkward, his shiny leather shoes much the worse for wear and his stupid suit pants ripped at the knees.

      “You,” she said in a cold, flat voice, eyeing him up and down with disdain. “You should get back to the city where you belong and take your idiot dog with you. If any of these sheep are harmed then you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I’d have been well within my rights to shoot it, you know.”

      At that, the man’s demeanor changed and he stood tall, holding her gaze with piercing, pale eyes. “But you haven’t got a gun,” he pointed out in a clear, cultured voice.

      Undeterred, Chrissie tossed her head, blue eyes sparkling as they boldly met his. “Then I will start carrying one,” she said. “For the next time that wild, untrained dog of yours terrifies my sheep. And if I lose any lambs from this, you will be paying for them, too.”

      * * *

      FOR A MOMENT, Will was speechless. A crazy urge to laugh made his lips twitch as it occurred to him what his colleagues would think if they could see him now. Will Devlin, stuck for words for what felt like the first time in his life, his opponent a simple country shepherdess with no apparent culture but a very fierce temper.

      When he made the decision to move to the country, he’d imagined it would be quiet and relaxing, a peaceful place with room to breathe. He definitely hadn’t expected to get told off like a schoolboy on his first outing.

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