Shadow on the Fells (7 page)

Well, she'd get her money, and then he'd hire the best dog trainer there was, no matter what the cost, and walk Max across the fell when Miss frosty Autumn was herding her sheep. He couldn't wait to watch her eat her words. Unfortunately, though, he had to go pay her yet again for Max's misdeeds. At least it would be over with soon.

Chrissie was still on his mind as he took Max for a quick walk up the fell. The way she'd glared at him when she ranted about her sheep—not to mention the ducks—had been fueled by her passion for her animals, and he liked that.

Yesterday, though, when she'd handed him the new bill, her tone had been cold and hard, her blue eyes holding no reflection of the fire he'd seen in them before. Like the first time he ever saw her, way up on the fell, defending her sheep.

She had been ablaze with anger that day, but although she'd made him feel stupid and out of place, he'd felt a trickle of admiration for her passion. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different and they didn't really have much in common, aside from loving this place in their own ways. Still, there was something about her that drew him in. He didn't want to feel that way and he certainly hadn't expected to, but he couldn't control it. Perhaps he should just try and avoid her altogether. He'd give her the check, he decided, and then stay well away. He needed to stay focused on his plans, and getting into spats with someone he was never going to see eye to eye with was a waste of time and energy.

Although it was spring, the mornings were still nippy, and Will was grateful to step back into the warmth of the kitchen. He'd go over to High Bracken before the builders arrived, he decided; he couldn't face all that knocking and banging, and no doubt Jim would come looking for him as soon as they got here, or Roger Simmons would stop by with the revised plans.

He'd felt a real surge of interest in the holiday rentals when he'd talked to Roger about his ideas. The thought of people coming here to experience how things used to be gave the project a whole new, refreshing slant. The age-old way of life in the Lake District should never be forgotten, but the area needed visitors to spend their money here and this was one way to combine the two goals. All he needed to do was convince the locals, like Chrissie Marsh. Sure, he'd gotten off to an awkward start here, but surely she'd come around when he explained his intent. She might not think so, but there were some things he did understand about this place and its traditions.

First, though, he needed to take her that check.

The phone rang just as Will was pulling out of the yard. He answered without checking the caller ID, immediately wishing he'd screened it when Roy Wallis's voice came out over the Bluetooth sound system. He responded before Roy could even ask the question. “I am not doing it.”

There was audible, lengthy silence. “All I want,” Roy began, obviously straining to remain patient, “is for you to talk to Peter, the lawyer who has taken over from you... You know, give him a few tips on how to deal with people like the McBrides.”

“Don't tell me—he's having trouble with Ezra?” Will felt immense relief that this was no longer his problem.

“Just a few words on the phone,” Roy pleaded. He was not one to beg, so he must be desperate. “Or a meeting here, perhaps. You owe us that, at least.”

Will's every instinct screamed at him to refuse. He couldn't afford to go down that dark road again—there were too many gruesome memories. He'd lost himself once already, and he'd barely recovered. He wasn't sure he could do it a second time.

“Please, Will. Just a few questions, that's all. Give him the lay of the land, so to speak.”

Will listened to the plea in Roy's voice, remembering all the help and support his ex-boss had given him throughout his career, and in a moment of weakness he found himself agreeing to a meeting. Even as the words left his lips, something tightened inside him, something he thought he had overcome. It threatened his peace of mind. “Just twenty minutes or so, though,” he added. “I'll be there before lunch.”

With a heavy sigh he turned his big vehicle around and drove back to Craig Side. If he was going to do this then he needed to feel right and that meant getting changed into the clothes that made him look strong and confident. One thing was for sure: this was going to be the first and last time they'd ever persuade him to come back, even fleetingly.

As he searched in his closet for a suitably expensive suit, it occurred to him that Chrissie did not need outward apparel to give her a facade of strength. She was strong from the core, facing adversities from bad weather to her animals' deaths on a regular basis. She would never allow money and power to tempt her away from what she felt was right.

He, on the other hand, had allowed money and power to rule his world for the last ten years, the power of words and the buzz of success that followed his victories...until he'd come to realize that they weren't really victories after all, and money wasn't everything. He did feel a sense of responsibility toward Roy, however, and though he didn't regret leaving Marcus Finch, he could see now that his sudden departure had been unfair. Early in his career, his boss had believed in him, mentored him, even when things went wrong. He owed Roy, so he'd agreed to this meeting. But that didn't mean he was looking forward to it.

Glancing critically in the mirror, he saw his old self, smart and distinguished; a far cry from the man he was now...the man who always seemed to be dressed in the wrong clothes and was the laughingstock of the local shepherdess. He gritted his teeth, drawing his mouth into a thin line. He would get through today, and then he would prove to her that he really could fit in here. Because he didn't intend to go anywhere else anytime soon.

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
MEETING
WAS
just as Will expected it to be. The familiar, imposing classical boardroom with oak-paneled walls, the impeccably-dressed secretaries with perfect hair and plastic smiles. They were a complete contrast to Chrissie with her natural, sun-kissed skin and practical clothes.

He was annoyed when Ezra McBride turned up at what was supposed to have been a private meeting, brash and loud with heavy gold chains that declared his wealth in vulgar fashion. He held out his broad hand, but Will declined it.

“Will...I need you on this case,” Ezra insisted. “Just name your price.”

“I don't have a price anymore,” he responded, his tone cool and firm. “I don't work with Marcus Finch now, and I don't intend to take on any more cases...whatever they are.”

Ezra's face hardened. “I don't think you understand,” he said.

Refusing to feel threatened, Will stared him straight in the eye. “Oh, I understand perfectly. I think it's you who doesn't understand.” He turned to Roy Wallis. “And as for you...”

His former boss had the grace to drop his gaze to the floor as Will stared at him accusingly. “I believe that I have been brought here on a false pretext.”

“No...it's not what you think,” Roy said. “I didn't know Ezra was going to be here.”

“Look...” Ezra's voice took on a sinister tone. “If you don't do this—”

“Are you threatening me?” Will growled. “If you want to go down that route then I have an awful lot of ammunition to fire back at you.”

Ezra's expression turned shifty. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me.”

The criminal turned on his heel. “You haven't heard the last of this.”

When the door banged behind him, Roy let out a sigh of relief. “You see how it is? We need you to deal with clients like him.”

“No.” Will shook his head. “Because you don't
need
to have clients like him. What you really need is to change the way you do things around here. Just because this company has a reputation for successfully defending hardened criminals doesn't mean it has to keep on doing it.”

“Then come back, Will. I do agree that we need change around here, but we also need you to help motivate that change. You're not a country kind of person anyway—
this
is what you love. The courtroom, the challenges, the success. We can have that success with different types of clients.
You
can have it. You miss it, Will. Go on, tell me you don't.”

“I don't miss meeting people like Ezra, criminals who have no scruples and think they're above the law. They
are
above the law, with lawyers like I used to be to help them. Can't you see, Roy? That's why I left. I didn't have a breakdown, I just got sickened by the whole sordid business.”

“Then come back and help turn things around,” Roy pleaded. “Make yourself proud of being a lawyer again... Prove yourself.”

Will hesitated and, noting that hesitation, Roy smiled. “You know it makes sense.”

“No...” Will shook his head firmly, convincing himself as much as Roy. “It doesn't make sense. I'm done with law.”

“We'll see,” Roy said, shaking his hand. “At least think about it.”

Driving home, Will felt a rush of elation. In the back of his mind, he'd felt guilty about just running away from a situation he didn't like, abandoning his responsibilities because he couldn't cope with what they were. But now, having been given the opportunity to face up to Ezra McBride, he felt absolved of the guilt that had lingered alongside the relief his decision had given him. He'd taken a leaf from Chrissie's book and stood his ground, going back to Marcus Finch to stand tall and have his say. The surprise was that Roy had kind of agreed with him. There was even a small part of Will that had considered Roy's offer. But the satisfaction he'd once felt from winning cases was nothing compared to the freedom he now felt, the freedom to enjoy his new life...as long as he could make a go of it. He had a new future to build in Little Dale, and he planned to succeed at all costs.

* * *

A
T
H
IGH
B
RACKEN
, Chrissie was struggling to bond the ewe to the orphan she'd picked up from Chris Bolton.

The sheep's refusal to take the lamb was a common enough problem, of course, but this ewe was being particularly stubborn, pushing the tiny lamb away every time it tried to feed just because the scent wasn't right. She had milk and a mothering instinct, she just needed to believe that the orphan was really hers. That was essential in order for her to have a purpose and stay here with the flock. Chrissie had penned them up together and milked the ewe a few times, feeding the lamb from a bottle to get its adoptive mother's milk through the little creature's system. That usually worked. Not this time, though. The ewe just butted the poor lamb away every time it tried to suckle.

In desperation, Chrissie went for the age-old remedy of skinning the dead lamb to make a kind of coat for its replacement. She placed the orphan back in the pen and watched closely, holding her breath as the ewe sniffed her surrogate offspring. Suddenly, she made a snuffling, bleating noise, then nibbled and licked the lamb's back, accepting its smell. When the little one took a firm hold of the ewe's teat and started to suckle, Chrissie let out a sigh of relief. She stood there a few minutes longer, just to be sure.

The sun was sinking when Chrissie finally left the lamb with its new mother. It was almost time to check the lambing sheep, but first she needed a hot drink and a sandwich.

When she heard a vehicle approaching, her heart sank. Who could it be at this time of day? She was too tired to make small talk.

When she recognized Will's four-by-four, something leaped in her chest...much to her annoyance. She clamped down on her reaction, setting her lips into a tight line. “Oh...it's you,” she said, as Will pulled up beside her and rolled down his window.

“Don't look too pleased to see me,” he remarked dryly, opening the door and climbing out. “I've only come to bring you some money. Do you have a pen on you, by the way? I've forgotten mine.”

He waved his checkbook in her face, and Chrissie sighed. “You'd better come to the house. I'll get you one there.”

She walked just ahead of him to the back door, acutely aware of his tall frame right behind her. When she stepped into the cozy warmth of the kitchen, instead of staying on the step he followed her inside, standing too close for comfort.

“I don't know why you're so annoyed with me,” he said, “when I come bearing gifts.”

“Paying for your mistakes is hardly bearing gifts,” Chrissie said, glancing up from the drawer where she was rummaging for a pen. “I'm in a rush, that's all. I still have the lambing sheep to check and I need food and a coffee first... I haven't stopped all day.”

Will stepped past her and reached for the kettle. “Well, then, I'll make the coffee while you look for the pen. And technically it wasn't my mistake—it was Max's.”

Chrissie glared at him. “Your dog's mistake
is
your mistake,” she said. “You have to take total responsibility for anything your dog might do.”

Ignoring her, Will spooned instant coffee into two mugs, poured in boiling water and opened the fridge. “You do take milk, I presume? Sugar?”

“I don't remember offering you anything.”

Putting down the milk jug he stood tall, returning her cool gaze. “Listen,” he began. “I really am sorry about both the sheep and the duck, and I don't blame you for being mad at me. I know I haven't quite gotten used to this country thing yet, but I do want to try and fit in here.”

For a moment, his eyes met hers, and a heavy pulse began to beat in her throat. He seemed so much taller here in her kitchen, and he was standing so close that she could feel his heat.

Despite her discomfort, Chrissie couldn't stop a smile from turning up the corners of her lips. “Well, you won't fit in around here dressed like that,” she said, raising her eyebrows at his expensive suit and shiny black shoes. “Don't you ever get it right?”

“For your information, I happen to be dressed like this because I'm a lawyer. Or, at least, I was. I'm recently...retired. I've just been to the city to finish up some...stuff.”

“Bit young to retire, aren't you?” Chrissie asked, reaching across to finish pouring the coffees. “What happened there?”

“You really don't want to know,” Will replied, writing out the check. “But I'm not retired, because I'm about to embark on a new career...in tourism.” He handed it over with a flourish. “At least you can't say I don't pay my dues.”

“You do know how I feel about tourists?” Chrissie said bluntly.

Will nodded. “Since you have mentioned it before, several times, I reckon I've got a pretty good idea. But you don't need to worry—none of my plans are final yet... Who knows what will happen. Take the money, with my apologies. I really am sorry for all the trouble my ignorance has caused.”

Chrissie tucked the check in her pocket and passed him a mug. Perhaps he really was sorry. “Okay,” she said, smiling. “Truce. We got off to a bad start. Well, a couple of bad starts, actually, so let's just start all over again. Drink your coffee and then I must go and check the sheep.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. “Are you actually going to go around the field now? It's almost dark.”

“That's exactly when sheep tend to lamb,” Chrissie explained.

“Then I'll come and help you,” he said.

He looked as surprised by his offer as she was. Well, he had seemed so earnest about fitting in a moment ago. She would show him what country life was really like. “You're hardly dressed for it, but I do believe there's a big old jacket in the cupboard. I'll go and get it for you.”

“I mean, if you'd rather go on your own...” he tried.

Chrissie wasn't going to let him off the hook. “I could use the company, actually.” She drained her mug. “Come on, there's no time to lose. Sometimes we can get eight or ten lambs a night.”

Will seemed even more uncomfortable when she brought him the coat.

“Um...what exactly is it that we'll be doing?” he asked cautiously.

“Help the lambing sheep, like I said.” She headed toward the door.

“You mean actually help the sheep give birth?” he spluttered.

Chrissie turned, wondering if it would be a mistake to bring him along, after all. “Oh, yes. And if they're having trouble or the lambs are weak we have to bring them into the barn. So are you coming or not?”

Will nodded, though he was pale, and Chrissie hid her smile as she stepped out into the twilight.

* * *

W
ILL
FOLLOWED
C
HRISSIE
across the yard, trying to fasten the waxed jacket she'd lent him. The arms were too short and it was tight across his chest, but at least it would keep out the wind. When she walked right past her Land Rover, he caught up to her.

“I thought that we were going to drive.”

“I'm having trouble with its clutch,” she explained. “I haven't had time to take it into the garage, and besides, the hillside gets quite steep. We're better with the tractor.”

“Tractor,” he repeated, and he could swear he saw Chrissie smile in the semidarkness.

“It has good lights and it's very reliable,” she told him, climbing up into an elderly red Massey Ferguson with a trailer attached. “Do you want to sit in the cab? It's not that comfortable, but at least you'll be out of the wind.”

“What is the alternative?” Will asked uncertainly.

“Well, you could just climb into the trailer.”

Will responded by climbing awkwardly into the cramped cab, folding his tall frame in next to Chrissie.

“All you have to do is keep your eyes peeled for a sheep in trouble,” she told him. “It might just look uncomfortable, usually in the shelter of a wall or bush, or it could have the lamb's feet or even head out. Usually they manage to lamb by themselves, but sometimes they need a pull...and then we have to make sure that the lamb, or lambs, have suckled.”

As the tractor rumbled into life, Will felt about as far out of his comfort zone as it was possible to be. All her talk about pulling lambs out and helping them suckle was making him panic. Was she just winding him up or was she serious? Surely she would call a vet if a sheep had a problem. Yes, she was just having him on. He grew calmer. If she needed him to help get a sheep into the trailer to take back to the barn to see the vet then he supposed he could manage that.

“Gate, please,” Chrissie said, and Will struggled out of the cab to open it. “And don't forget to shut it behind us,” she reminded him. He nodded, turning his face away from the drizzling rain that was being buffeted around by the rising wind.

As Chrissie drove slowly around the first meadow, Will saw dozens of sheep in the tractor headlights. Most were huddled together in the shelter of the drystone walls, but through the darkness he made out one figure all alone in a corner. “Over there,” he called in excitement. “There's a sheep on its own over there!”

Chrissie maneuvered the cumbersome vehicle so they could see the sheep in the headlights. It was standing with its head down, and even Will could see that it wasn't happy. As they walked quietly toward it, he was horrified to see a black head protruding from beneath its tail.

“Is that a bad sign?” he murmured in Chrissie's ear.

“If the lamb's front legs are back, it could be,” she said, taking hold of the wool around the ewe's throat. Will hung back, not knowing what to do.