the others. Chrissie felt a warm rush of pride at the way her dogs worked, hardly needing a command from her, and her confidence grew. Perhaps sheâd actually manage to get these sheep down today.
For the next twenty minutes, they trotted almost amicably, content to be coaxed down the steep slope by the two easygoing dogs. And then the little ewe decided to make a break for freedom again and Chrissie let out a piercing whistle to warn Tess. Within minutes, the sheepdog had regained control and the flock streamed obediently toward the gate into the low pasture.
The sky was darkening, and Chrissie was relieved that they had almost reached the fields. Gray clouds descended, casting out the sun and obliterating the patches of clear blue. A slow, steady drizzle of rain enveloped the fell. Glad of the waxed-canvas jacket she wore, Chrissie pulled up her hood and kept on moving.
Rain was almost an everyday occurrence in the North of England and she gave it as little thought as the sheep, whose thick, oily fleeces glistened with raindrops. Still, poor visibility and high winds were risks up here and she was happy she hadnât faced any more complications with the gather today.
The man appeared suddenly, as he had yesterday, and Chrissie suppressed a curse. At least today he had his crazy dog under control, she noted, and he was better dressed for the territory...except that maybe he should have thought to wear a coat.
She waved, signaling for him to stay back. He hesitated. His dark hair had curled in the rain and his sweater looked heavy and damp. He still hadnât gotten it right, then, she thought, trying not to smile. What did he think he was doing hanging around these fells? She felt in her pocket for the bill; at least now she could give it to him.
âMeet me at the bottom,â she called, and he stopped in surprise. She pointed to the open gate that led to the fields by the farm. âDown there.â
He frowned, puzzled, but he began moving in that direction, hanging determinedly on to the leash as his dog strained against him, desperate for another bit of fun.
With a collie at either side running to and fro, and Chrissie behind the flock waving her crook, the sheep streamed through the gate. She pushed it shut with satisfaction, almost forgetting about Will. His deep voice behind her made her jump. âWhy did you ask me to follow you down here...? Is it just so that you can give me another ticking off?â
âTicking off?â she repeated, unable to stop her wide smile. âWhat kind of person says that? Reading the riot act, going mad, even telling off. Ticking off sounds, well, kind of private school, I guess. Posh. Come to think of it, you do sound a bit posh.â
Will nodded briefly. âAnd you sound very Northern. Anyway, why did you ask me to follow you? I know, donât tell meâit was my good looks you couldnât resist.â
A flicker of heat in Chrissieâs cheeks revealed her embarrassment; she wasnât used to eloquent men out-talking her. In fact, talking to anyone was not her forte. She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket. âYou owe me this...for the ewe.â
He frowned, his silvery blue eyes darkening. âBut it ran off...we both saw it. I helped you, and it was fine.â
âNot that one.â
âThere was another?â
She looked anywhere but into his piercing gaze. âOne fell down a cliff face...itâs dead and so is its lamb.â
He stepped forward and took hold of her arm, but she pulled it away. âIâm so sorry.â
Chrissie met his eyes for a second, lifting her chin. âSheep die up here. It happens. But you have to pay for this one.â
Will studied the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. âThat much?â
âThat much,â she repeated decisively.
He stared at her a moment longer then sighed. âI presume this is where you live,â he said. âHigh Bracken, you called