Shadow On The Fells

Closing his eyes, he listened to the silence. It was total and welcome, calming his troubled mind. Later, he supposed, picking up the crumpled invoice from where he had thrown it earlier, he would have to go up to High Bracken and drop off a check. And this time, after the trip he’d made to the men’s outfitters in town, at least he would be dressed right. Hopefully he could act right, too; no one had made him feel as awkward as Chrissie Marsh since he’d become a lawyer.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ud72c085c-4301-5156-98e5-9f21e1f72055)

FLOSS GAZED UP at Chrissie, eyes alight with interest, and she gave the little collie the command to sit and stay.

“Clever girl,” Chrissie said as Floss obeyed. “Perhaps we should do the duck test.”

When she went around the back of the house to the small, walled paddock just beyond the barn, Floss followed, padding quietly along behind her like a dog twice her age. She was eager to learn and keen to please, Chrissie noted—all the attributes of a promising sheepdog. The duck test would show how much natural ability she had. Collies were bred with an inherent instinct to herd, but it came easier to some than to others.

The Runner ducks were already out, moving around the paddock like a group of slope-backed soldiers with their heads held high. When they saw Chrissie and the dog, they huddled closer together, moving as one with the weird gait that gave them their name.

“Time to earn your keep, boys,” Chrissie called, firmly holding the baler twine that was attached to Floss’s collar. The pup whined with excitement, and Chrissie pulled sharply on the twine. “Lie down, Floss.”

Floss faltered, agitated by the strange creatures and impatient to run to them.

“Lie down,” Chrissie repeated, lowering her arm with her palm outstretched.

When Floss sank down obediently, still quivering, Chrissie smiled. “Good girl.” She stroked the backs of the dog’s ears.

After fifteen minutes of making Floss lie and wait, watching the strange little group of drakes and generally beginning to get used to them, Chrissie took the plunge and turned the dog loose to see what she would do.

“Lie down,” she called, and Floss did so immediately, eyes bright as she glanced across at her trainer before turning her attention back to the flock of Runner ducks.

“Come by,” Chrissie ordered and the dog reacted at once, skirting the flock slowly and cautiously and soon moving them around the paddock with an inherent skill.

“Good girl!” Chrissie let out a sharp, two-tone whistle and patted her knee. “Come here.”

Floss ran toward her, and when she reached Chrissie she rolled onto her back to get her tummy scratched. Chrissie laughed, sinking down onto her knees to do just that.

“Good, good girl,” she cried. “Your owner has certainly made a good start with you.”

The Runner ducks, well used to the routine of being herded around by young sheepdogs, began quacking in alarm. That’s odd, thought Chrissie, and she looked up to see them running to the corner of the paddock. Suddenly, she became aware of a figure peering over the wall.

“What are you doing?” Will asked, and her heart sank. She really didn’t have time for his stupid questions right now.

* * *

WILL SET OFF up the steep slope behind Craig Side with Max, as always now on a long leash. He had considered leaving the unruly labradoodle at home, but responsibility won out. He may have chosen the wrong dog for sheep country, but he was stuck with him now...and very fond of him.

Not having owned a dog before, Will had never really appreciated their innocent and unquestioning company. He needed that right now; it gave him comfort to know that there was always someone to listen to his woes without judgment, someone who was always there to welcome him home with no ulterior motives.

Besides, if Will didn’t take Max for a walk, who knew what kind of havoc he’d wreak in the house or the yard? At least Will could keep an eye on him this way, and maybe exercise would mellow him out.

Will walked in silence, listening to the world around him as he and the big dog climbed up the slope. For Max, every rabbit hole was exciting, every fluttering bird and moving creature something to chase.

“No!” Will shouted when Max pulled at his leash, trying to race off after yet another litter of baby rabbits. When the tiny creatures ran in panic toward their burrow, Will felt a strange and slightly alien lump form in his chest. The tiny rabbits were so scared and vulnerable. How were they going to survive until adulthood?

You, Will Devlin, he told himself, are getting soft.

High Bracken was not very far across the fell from Craig Side, but it took almost half an hour for Will to negotiate the harsh terrain. Max didn’t help, pulling and barking, but eventually they reached the meadow near the farm where she’d handed him the bill for the dead sheep. He could see the flock she’d brought down from the fell to lamb; they seemed calmer now, but they tensed up immediately when they saw Max. Will made a detour along the wall, not wanting to spook them again.

The gray stone house came into view beyond the barn, tucked into the hillside. Would she be in there? Or maybe he’d better check in the barn or the outbuildings—she had mentioned the vet coming.

Deciding he’d try the barn first, Will strode toward it, but he saw her before he even got there. That is, he heard her somewhere near the small paddock that ran alongside the looming structure. He heard another sound, too—a strange one. Did she keep ducks?

Taking a firm hold of Max’s collar and silently pleading with him to stay quiet, Will approached cautiously; the last thing he wanted was to cause any more problems for Chrissie.

For once, overcome by the unfamiliar sound, the labradoodle obliged and Will was able to peer over the drystone wall that surrounded the paddock.

Chrissie stood with her back to him. She was dressed, as usual, in blue jeans, a thick quilted jacket and brown boots; her thick, blond braid hung down almost to her waist.

Will knew he should get her attention to avoid startling her, but he paused, intrigued to hear her giving commands to the pretty little brown-and-white collie that seemed to be taking in her every sound and gesture. Slowly, it approached a flock of funny-looking waddling ducks then started to herd them across the grass. Chrissie gave a sharp whistle and the dog returned to her, flopping onto the ground for a belly rub.

“Good girl,” she cried, and then she noticed him standing there. Her piercing gaze made him feel guilty and self-conscious. How did she manage that? Well, at least she couldn’t laugh at what he was wearing; the country boots, moleskin trousers and tweed jacket had been highly recommended by the men’s outfitters in Kendal.

“What are you doing?” he called, breaking the silence that stretched between them.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped.

He shrugged. “Well, I don’t really know. I thought you trained dogs to herd sheep, not ducks.”

The hint of a smile flitted across her face. “They have to start somewhere, and it gives the ducks a purpose.”

“Shouldn’t they be laying eggs and getting fat enough for dinner?”

“Not these ducks. They’re a bit small to eat and they’re drakes, so they don’t lay eggs. Getting them to help with the dog training means I can justify keeping them.”

“They could just be pets,” Will suggested. “Odd pets, to be sure. What are they, anyway?”

The wind rose, freeing wisps of hair from Chrissie’s braid to frame her face, softening its contours. She pushed it back impatiently, shaking her head. “There is no room for pets on a farm, and all the birds and animals here have to earn their keep. These ducks would have no purpose if they didn’t help with training the young sheepdogs, and in return they are fed and cared for. What can I do for you, anyway? Or is this just a social visit?”

“No... Yes... I mean, I brought your check,” he said, pulling it from his pocket.

As she raised her eyebrows, her hair escaped again. He liked that look. It made her seem softer, though he knew full well that she was as hard as nails.

“I’m surprised you had enough money left after you’ve forked out for that outfit,” she said, looking him up and down. The smile in her eyes belied her stern expression.

Will gazed down in consternation, placing his palms on his chest. Was she just trying to wind him up?

“What’s wrong with it? The store manager said it was about as country as you can get.”

“And it is,” she agreed, walking toward him. “If you’re going to the races, that is. You’d fit right in in the owners’ enclosure. Why don’t you just wear something comfortable? Jeans, boots and a warm jacket is all you need to walk these fells.”

They stood quite close, facing each other with the wall between them. He handed over the check and she inspected it carefully before pushing it into her pocket.

“There’s nothing wrong with it. It certainly won’t bounce.”

“I’d come looking for you if it did,” she said in a tone of voice that made him believe it.