Jessie’s face drained of what little colour she had left and instinctively her hands came up before her face-to ward off a blow…

It was a futile gesture. This man hadn’t threatened her with a gun-or with a raised hand for that matter-but the fury was there…

And suddenly it wasn’t.

The man’s face changed. The aggression died as he stared down at her and his hand came out as if to touch…

Jess stepped back in panic. ‘N-no…’

‘I won’t hurt you,’ he said harshly.

There was a long silence. The morning sun glimmered through the canopy of leaves above them. Their eyes stayed locked, the man’s harsh stare changing to a look of confusion-as if, suddenly, his aggression was weakening.

Jessie’s fear remained.

How could it not?

The man swore suddenly. He took another step towards her and Jessie flinched again.

He stopped.

And swore again.

And, then, in a gesture of impatience the man broke the barrel of his gun. The cartridge fell out onto his palm and he let it fall further onto the ground. Then he let the gun fall, too.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ he said again and this time he spoke as though he meant it. The blazing anger was gone.

Jessie took a deep breath. The memory receded-a little. This man wasn’t John Talbot. He had no cause to hurt her.

‘I…I guess…’ she said, but she couldn’t make her voice steady.

‘Are you running from someone?’ Niall Mountmarche’s dark brow was creased in sudden concern. Clearly her reaction had him puzzled. He looked around as if expecting to see others. ‘Are you hiding? Who’s Harry?’

‘I told you-Harry’s a dog.’ It was all Jessie could do to get her voice above a whisper.

‘But not your dog?’

‘No.’

‘But you’re scared stiff?’

Jessie took a deep breath. ‘No. Not…not any more.’

‘Because I put the gun down.’

‘That might have something to do with it,’ Jessie stammered, her equilibrium returning by degrees. The man still unsettled her badly-but at least the ogre image was fading. For the moment…

‘Well, would you care to tell me?’

‘Yes.’ Jessie closed her eyes, still fighting for calm. When she opened them she had herself almost under control.

‘Harry is your neighbour’s dog,’ she said at last. ‘Frank Reid owns land on your north boundary. I guess you don’t know him-as you keep to yourself so much-but Frank is elderly and diabetic. He’s ill at the moment and has been in hospital for over a week.’

‘So?’ This was of supreme disinterest, Niall Mountmarche’s face told her.

‘The girl who’s been looking after his farm told Frank today that Harry’s been missing for almost a week,’ Jess stammered. ‘Frank asked me to look…’

‘A week…’

‘She didn’t want to worry him.’ Jessie’s voice trailed away. The girl’s actions were almost inexcusable, she thought, remembering the elderly farmer’s distress when she’d seen him that morning.

‘So he asked you to look because you’re a friend?’ Niall Mountmarche was watching her as if she was a specimen he just couldn’t make out.

‘Because I’m the island vet,’ Jessie said bluntly and watched his reaction.

It was all she could have hoped for.

The man’s eyes widened in incredulity-and then disbelief.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he said flatly.

‘That’s fine.’ Jessie bit her lip and shrugged. ‘Just let me get on with finding the dog and there’s no need for you to believe anything.’

‘How long have you been qualified?’

‘Look!’ Jessie’s voice exploded into anger. ‘How long I’ve been qualified has nothing to do with anything. The only thing that matters at the moment is that there’s an injured dog on your property and I need to find him. Fast!’

Niall Mountmarche was still watching her-assessing her. With his eyes still on her, he stooped to pick up his gun and snap it together. As Jessie’s face changed again he flicked the cartridge with his booted toe so that it lay almost at her feet.

‘You keep the cartridge,’ he said harshly. ‘I won’t shoot your precious dog. But I want to know why you think he’s on my property.’

The air whooshed out of Jessie’s lungs in a rush. She stooped to retrieve the cartridge and shoved it deep into her pocket-before the man changed his mind.

‘There are rabbit traps set near your boundary fence,’ she told him, fingering the cartridge as security. ‘Some of the local kids must have set their traps on Frank’s land while he’s in hospital. They know he’d never let them, otherwise. The traps are set in a pattern and one trap seems to be missing-and the place where it should be is marked with blood and fur. Not brown rabbit fur. It’s the black and white fur of a collie.’

‘Collie?’

‘Harry-Frank’s dog-is a Border collie. A good one.’

He was certainly a lovely dog, Jessie knew, and if anything happened to Harry Frank Reid would break his heart.

‘You haven’t said why you believe he’s here.’ The booted toe was tapping again on the leaf-strewn ground. Patience, it seemed, was not one of Niall Mountmarche’s strong points.

‘There’s a trail of drag marks and blood leading through your fence. At a guess, the dog still has the trap on his foot. If he’s too injured to drag himself home then he won’t have gone far.’

‘If he’s been missing a week then he’ll be dead.’

‘No.’ Jessie shook her head. ‘I heard him,’ she said flatly. ‘He’s somewhere here.’

The man’s eyes narrowed. ‘Nearby?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, what are we wasting time for, Jessica Harvey?’ the man demanded harshly. ‘Let’s find him.’ ‘You mean…You mean you’ll help?’ ‘Why on earth wouldn’t I?’ Why not, indeed?

It took fifteen minutes.

At the sound of Niall’s voice Harry’s whimpers had ceased and, no matter how much Jessie called, she wasn’t able to hear the dog again. Then it was a case of physically searching inside every hollow log and under every piece of undergrowth.

In the end it wasn’t Niall who found Harry but Harry who found Niall. Niall lifted a piece of bush and Harry’s black face lunged forward in snarling menace. Teeth sank into Niall’s leather boot-and then the dog shrieked in pain as his movement made the agony from his injuries unbearable. The dog fell back, teeth still bared in a grimace of suffering.

Jessie had heard. She came flying from twenty yards away, half expecting Niall Mountmarche to kick out in fury.

The Ogre of Barega did no such thing. The man knelt, just out of range of the menacing teeth, and his voice softened.

‘Hey, old fella,’ he said gently. ‘We’ve been looking for you. There’s no need to attack. We’re here to help.’

He knew animals, then. Jessie’s fears receded further. This man knew a desperately injured dog would react by defending itself. The worse its pain became the more it would defend itself-to the point where a badly injured dog could even bite its owner.

Harry was confused and in pain and, Jessie guessed, starved almost to death. They could expect no cooperation from Harry.

Jess knelt beside Niall and looked under the bush where Harry lay. All she could see were the whites of his eyes wide with terror-and the bared teeth.

‘Any suggestions?’ Niall asked and his tone was sardonic again. It suggested that Jessie’s claim to being a vet was ridiculous.

‘I’ll dart him with a tranquilliser if I must,’ Jessie said, hauling her bag from her shoulder and flicking it open. ‘But I don’t want to. He’ll be weak enough as it is.’

‘So, what…?’

Jessie lifted her tray of syringes and dressings from the top of the bag and found what she was looking for. A leather muzzle. Normally she could manage without-if she could reach the dog from behind-but Harry was wedged firmly into his hiding place and could only be faced head-on. To put her hands into his refuge was to risk losing a finger.

‘OK.’ She looked back at the collie. The big dog hadn’t moved. The teeth were still drawn back in a grimace half of pain, half of menace.

‘No sudden movements,’ she said shortly.

Niall nodded. He didn’t move.

‘OK, Harry,’ Jess said gently, turning her full attention on the dog. ‘Let’s help you. Come on, boy. We’re here to help.’

She talked for five minutes, taking all the time in the world. The dog had hurt himself by his lunge forward and Jess was prepared to wait for the agony to settle. She needed the terror to recede from those huge, pain-filled eyes.

She knew this dog. Frank Reid was a friend and Jess saw Harry often when she dropped in to Frank’s farm. She’d removed a burr from his ear last summer and he’d let her help as soon as she had his trust.

This time he was more desperately hurt. It would take time-but she could afford to take it.

‘Come on, Harry,’ she said gently. ‘We’re here to help. You can trust us.’

Inch by inch she edged forward, her eyes never leaving the dog’s for a moment. Beside her, Niall Mountmarche watched and listened-but didn’t move either. He sensed that he could destroy all her efforts with a movement. At least the man had the rudiments of common sense.

Jessie held the muzzle forward, letting the dog see it. He hadn’t seen such a thing before-so he didn’t know it wasn’t to be trusted. Jess let it lie like a handkerchief in her hand, holding it forward.

‘Hey, Harry…’

An inch more…An inch more…

The dog’s lips moved. His body shuddered and he lunged forward, desperately defending…

Right into the muzzle.

Jessie moved like lightning. She was up over the big dog, fastening the leather thong at the back of his neck and then hauling the dog from his hiding place and gathering the collie to her like a frightened child. She held him immobile and rigid against her, pulling him down to her and talking and talking as if there was absolutely no threat…

The dog could do nothing.