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‘Your dog’s still chasing the sheep,’ he said harshly. ‘Get him back.’
Bryony moistened her lips.
‘Like...how?’
‘Like I got my dog back. Call him.’
‘Well, short of borrowing a bugle, I can’t get a sound as loud as yours. And he’ll be halfway across the showground by now.’ Bryony paused and gave Jack a small, placating smile. ‘Actually, even if I’m six feet away Harry doesn’t come when I call. Unless I’m eating. Then he does a back flip to get to me.’
‘You feed your dog what you eat yourself—?’ Jack broke off in disgust. ‘Oh, for Pete’s sake... Look, just get your dog and clear out of here, Miss...Miss Whatever-your-name-is.’
‘I’m Bryony,’ she said again, and this time she forced him to take her hand by simply reaching out and grasping his. ‘I knew you weren’t listening last time.’ She took his fingers between hers and shook, regardless. ‘Bryony Lester.’
Jack did a mental back flip. Bryony’s hand was firm yet soft, and she smelled of something fragrant... Something really good.
‘Bryony...’ Jack said her name automatically—as if he was saying it despite himself.
‘I’ll go and find Harry,’ Bryony said apologetically, disengaging her fingers. ‘I guess he’ll have sheep up trees by now. But don’t worry, Mr Morgan. He won’t hurt them. He brought me one of Myrna’s ducklings last week and when he put it down the little thing waddled straight back to its mother. Wasn’t that clever of him to be so gentle?’
‘Brilliant.’ Jack had recovered a smidgen of his equilibrium—and his bad temper. His voice said Harry was anything but brilliant.
Bryony sighed and turned away. Hopeless. This man was so good-looking he could make her toes curl, but hopeless!
‘Jack!’
A shout from the sidelines made her hesitate. A middle-aged man in a suit—incongruous in a land of denim jeans and moleskins—was heading straight for them. A large badge proclaimed him: Brian McKenzie. Judge-Working Dog Trials. He looked brimful of self-importance, and despite the discomfiture Jack Morgan was making her feel Bryony waited to hear what he had to say.
‘Jack, I’m sorry, mate, but we’ve had to disqualify you,’ the man told Jack. He directed a lingering look at Bryony and then turned his attention reluctantly back to Jack. ‘It’s rules,’ he said shortly. ‘Your dog should be able to cope with distractions.’
Jack’s look, stormy before, turned to thunder.
‘Another dog launching himself into the mob while Jess works is hardly just a distraction.’
‘The rule book doesn’t say anything about that,’ the man told him. ‘We checked. Sorry, mate.’
‘Hell...’
‘There’s always next month,’ the man assured him, not meeting his eyes. ‘And Tom Higgins will enjoy getting first prize for a change.’
Then the man cast one last appreciative look at Bryony—and headed for his judges’ stand before Jack could argue.
‘Oh,’ Bryony said in a small voice, watching Jack’s face. ‘That doesn’t seem fair.’
‘No.’ Jack’s voice was stretched like fencing wire, almost to breaking point. ‘It’s not.’
‘Do you think if I went and explained...apologised...?’
‘It wouldn’t make any difference. I can appeal, but it’ll be fought every inch of the way and it’s just not worth it. That man is Tom Higgins’ father-in-law.’
‘Tom Higgins... The competitor who’ll win now?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I see.’ Bryony looked doubtfully up at Jack. Then her face cleared a little. ‘Well, I guess it’s not like it’s money or anything. Harry and I were watching you and I thought your Jessica was gorgeous. The best. Harry thought so too. That’s why he tried to meet her. So you still have the best dog, with or without first prize.’
And then, as Jack’s expression still stayed stormy, she tried again. ‘Actually. Harry and I didn’t win first prize either. In fact, we didn’t win any prize. Harry cocked his leg on the judge’s lovely shoes. Edna McKenzie. Do you know her? The poor lady nearly had kittens.’
Jack’s eyes widened. Edna McKenzie...wife of Brian. It couldn’t have happened to a more satisfactory person.
A tiny muscle at the side of Jack’s mouth quivered—so slightly that Bryony thought she might have imagined it. His jaw clamped back down straight away, though. Clearly Jack Morgan was intent on nursing his grievance.
‘You weren’t here for obedience trials?’ Jack’s voice was frankly incredulous.
‘Well, no.’ Bryony smiled up at him, refusing to be daunted by his grouchiness. ‘We were trying for champion schnauzer. Harry’s a pedigree. Myrna said I should show him and maybe someone would pay a stud fee for his services.’ She chuckled. ‘Harry would love that. At the moment he practises on cushions and on my leg and on anything else he can find. It’d be nice to channel his interest into a more natural direction.’
Once more, there was that almost imperceptible twitch.
This man was really something, Bryony thought. If she could only get him to smile...
And then she paused as a child materialised at Jack’s side. The child was about six years old, and she was thin to the point of emaciation. Her fair hair was dragged off her face in two long, uneven pigtails and her denim dungarees hung loose on her body. She looked like an escapee from an Orphan Annie movie.
‘Jack, Jessie didn’t win.’
A thin, reedy voice. Flat. Intensely disappointed. And, for the first time, Bryony felt a surge of real guilt. It hadn’t been too bad up until now. Bryony had reasoned that she hadn’t meant to let Harry slip his collar and, even if Jack Morgan had missed out on first prize, it couldn’t be so important. This was a small country show and everyone knew Jessica was far and away the best dog.
But this little one had wanted Jess to win. The loss was aching in her voice, and Bryony felt just dreadful, so she dropped to her knees again, her leggings making two cups in the dust. She had supreme disregard for her white leggings.
As well she might, Jack thought. Even coated six inches thick in dust, Bryony’s leggings would look wonderful on Bryony.
‘I’m afraid that was all my dog’s fault,’ Bryony confessed to the little girl, oblivious of Jack watching her. ‘He chased Jessica’s sheep. Did you see him? Harry’s a bad dog and I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.’
‘Jessie won’t be Australian champion now.’
The child’s voice wasn’t accusing. She was just telling the facts.
‘How do you mean?’ Bryony looked up at Jack. ‘I... This is only a small show. I mean, surely it’s not like it’s the Australian championships or anything.’
‘It is,’ the child said sadly. ‘You get points for every show you win, but you have to get all your points in a year. Jack said Jess only needed one more show and this was it. And we were going to put Jessie’s trophy in my room because Jack lets Jessie sleep on my bed...’
She stopped, her huge brown eyes filled with tears, and Bryony felt about two inches tall.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Bryony’s voice fell uselessly away. One look at this little girl told Bryony there was more at stake here than a trophy. The child had every appearance of a waif—a waif who’d wanted a trophy so much it hurt.
‘Hey, Maddy, there’s one more show. One more show before we run out of time.’ Ignoring Bryony, Jack stooped to lift the child into his arms, but the little girl refused to be comforted. She held herself ramrod-stiff, refusing to sink into his hold.
‘But it’ll be her last chance,’ she whispered. ‘What if something happens then?’ Maddy hardly seemed to be speaking to the man who was holding her. It was a conversation with herself. She was pushing all her distress inward.
‘Do you think something like this could happen a second time?’ Jack hugged the child and smiled into her troubled eyes, and it was the smile Bryony had expected and more. It was a smile that could turn a heart right over. Gorgeous white teeth flashed out in his weathered face, transforming it to laughter, and his deep brown eyes crinkled as if they were accustomed to smiling. There was humour in Jack’s face, and there was kindness and there was sympathy.
There was love for this little one written all over him, and it was a smile to make hearts stand still. Whew! But Maddy held herself aloof.
‘If Miss Lester promises to leave her dog at home, we’ll win next time,’ Jack promised the child. Jack cast a doubtful look across at Bryony. ‘And I don’t think she’ll be here again. She’s not local.’
Of course she isn’t local, his look said. No one this dumb could be a local.
‘Well, I am local,’ Bryony said, hauling herself upright again to meet his look with defiance. ‘I’ve just moved here.’
The child stared at her from Jack’s arms.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Bryony.’
The child considered. ‘Bryony’s pretty,’ she pronounced. ‘Mine’s Madelaine but my... People call me Maddy.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Maddy.’ Bryony didn’t put her hand out to greet her. There was something about this child that said she wasn’t into being touched. Not even by the man who was holding her.
‘I’ve just moved here, too,’ the child said. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘Well, this time I’ve moved from New York.’
‘But...New York’s in America.’
‘Hey, that’s right.’ Bryony beamed her approval and Maddy gave her a shy smile.
‘My grandma lived in America,’ Maddy confided. ‘I don’t expect you knew her. We lived in California.’
‘You’re American?’ Bryony had already guessed. It was obvious when Maddy spoke. The man was broadly Australian, but the child definitely wasn’t. ‘Wow. I’m very pleased to meet you, Maddy. I spent the last few years in the States and I’m homesick. It was Thanksgiving last week and no one here knew about it but me. I had to eat my turkey all by myself. Are you homesick?’
Maddy cast a doubtful look at Jack.
‘Y-yes.’
‘Have your family moved here?’
‘No.’ The child’s face clamped down. Her lips pressed together and there was a look of pain in her face that told Bryony to ask that question had been really dumb. The child took a deep breath, as if she was about to confess something shameful. And she did.
‘My mom doesn’t want me,’ she said bleakly. ‘My grandma did, but she’s dead. I have to live with my father now.’
Oh.
‘I see.’ Bryony looked doubtfully at Jack, her heart sinking.
Jack. This must be the father, then, in the ‘I have to live with my father...’ There was definitely a resemblance. The eyes were the same. And the firmness of the set mouth.
“This is your daddy?’
‘My mom says Jack’s my father.’ The child’s voice said she didn’t believe a word of such a stupid statement. Maddy gave an uncompromising wriggle in Jack’s arms. ‘I want to get down.’ She was set on the ground by a silent Jack, and she stared up at Bryony with interest. Her father was discarded. ‘Where’s your bad dog gone to now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Bryony hesitated. There were things going on here she didn’t understand in the least, but maybe they weren’t her business. ‘I guess I’d better go find him.’
Should she, though? What were her priorities here? Bryony looked dubiously over at the stands. One sheep was right up at the top of the seating, trying to figure whether jumping down into the Haunted House was worth the risk. That was the only sheep in sight. Heaven knew where the rest were. ‘Maybe I’d best help catch the sheep first.’
‘At the risk of giving offence, Miss Lester,’ Jack told her dryly, ‘you’d be more help just catching your dog. Jessica and I will round up the sheep. You concentrate on getting your dog under control.’
‘Harry could help find them!’
‘And then he’d keep chasing them.’ Jack shoved his wide hat down further over his eyes, forming a barrier of shadow. ‘They’d end up in Queensland. Just find your dog and keep him out of trouble. That’s all I ask.’ He held out his hand to his daughter. ‘Come on, Maddy.’
Maddy considered Jack’s hand and shook her head, firmly. Instead, to Bryony’s surprise, she reached out and tucked her hand into Bryony’s.
‘I’ll help Bryony find Harry.’
‘Maddy...’ Jack’s voice took on a tone of exasperation, and the child froze, and cringed, looking up at Jack as if she expected to be struck.
‘Hell!’ Jack swore, and then he knelt so his eyes were level with the child’s. He sighed as the fear in the child’s eyes didn’t fade a bit. ‘It’s okay, Maddy.’ His voice softened, but there was defeat in his tone. ‘You go hunt for bad dogs with Miss Lester.’ He looked up at Bryony. ‘Can I trust you to bring her back here when you’ve found him?’
‘Of course.’ Bryony glared. Jack Morgan might look like an absolute hunk, but there was no denying his temper—or that Maddy was afraid of him. Jack saw the thought, for Bryony didn’t attempt to hide it and this man was astute. He flinched.
‘I don’t hurt her,’ he said, and there was pain behind his words. ‘I never have and I never would. I promise you. Things aren’t what they seem.’
Bryony looked into his eyes—and believed him.
‘Yeah, well...’
Who knew what was happening here? Certainly not Bryony. She nicked her hair back from her face and tried for nonchalance. ‘We’ll leave you to your sheep, then, Mr Morgan,’ she managed. ‘Let’s go find Harry, Maddy Morgan.’
CHAPTER TWO
THEY found Harry fifteen minutes later and Harry was neck-deep in trouble. Or rather he was neck-deep in dung.
The cattle pavilions were the last place they searched. Bryony nosed her way through the cows, Maddy clinging to her side, and there was Harry rolling with canine delight in a pile of fresh manure.
The dog looked up as he saw Bryony. Bryony! Source of dog food, toast and electric blankets. He struggled to his feet, cocked a mucky eyebrow at his mistress, quivered all over from nose to stump—and launched himself at her with love. Straight into her arms. It was the only trick Bryony had been able to teach him—to fly straight up into her arms. He trusted her absolutely to grasp him and not to let him fall as he jumped.
So Bryony had no choice. She grasped as expected and Harry wagged himself all over in her arms. Green dung dripped straight down the front of her cream sweater and further, onto her white leggings.
Bryony stood on the concrete floor of the cattle pavilion, thinking longingly of goldfish as pets and wondering whether schnauzers made good goldfish food.
‘He is a bad dog!’ By her side, Maddy was breathless in horrified awe.
‘He certainly is.’ Bryony took a deep breath—then decided she didn’t need to breathe again for a while. Harry looked adoringly up through his bushy eyebrows and wagged his stump of a tail. It was too much. Around them there was shocked silence as the cattlemen saw what Harry had done, but Bryony’s mouth was curving into a grin she couldn’t contain. She either laughed here or she sat down amid the dung and howled. So she laughed and, with relief, the cattlemen laughed with her.
‘Can I give you a hose down, miss?’ one of them asked her—semi-serious—and Bryony thought, Why not? She held her dog before her as the farmer directed his hose full blast. After all, it would serve Harry right and it couldn’t make the mess worse. Could it?
It could. The dung had soaked in too far to be rinsed off by a spray with cold water. Now, instead of being almost dry and manured, she was soaking wet and manured. The dung mixed with the water and soaked right in to her skin. Now she was smelly and sodden, and Harry was even soggier.
‘I guess it’s just not my day,’ she told the wide-eyed Maddy and the almost pop-eyed cattlemen. ‘Some days you just shouldn’t get out of bed in the morning, and this is one of them.’
