‘Damn!’ Quinn muttered in futile exasperation. Instant disqualification for Anna, and Quinn’s disappointment was no greater than what Alix felt.
Quinn’s voice when he called in the bitch was harsh with anger, and Anna responded instantly, as if suddenly realising the disgrace of her actions. She came in quickly, but her carriage revealed her knowledge that she’d been a bad, bad dog.
The hare which had started it all bounded away immediately the bitch turned back, and Nick pranced forward a few steps in half hearted chase before turning at Alix’s whistle and prancing back to sit beside her obediently. He knew that he had done nothing seriously wrong, but he was sensitive to the tension surrounding both Alix and Quinn, and he glanced uneasily from one to the other until she’d reached down to stroke his head.
‘I am really sorry, Quinn,’ Alix said quietly as they moved together from the trial forefront to rejoin the gallery.
‘It happens,’ he shrugged, reaching down to fondle the questing nose that kept nudging at his fingers as he walked. ‘Lord knows why she did it, and he won’t tell, but Anna knows she’s been bad, don’t you old girl? You know very well how bad you’ve been.’
His reply was a soft, singing whine of assent from the chastened animal.
‘Oh, settle down. You’ll have plenty of chances to redeem yourself tomorrow,’ Quinn said softly, and Alix silently prayed also for a better day ahead.
She couldn’t have dreamed that it would be much, much worse.
CHAPTER NINE
Alix woke before dawn next morning, wishing she had never so much as heard of gun-dog trials, much less deliberately planned to show up Quinn Tennant for having criticised her dog.
After Anna’s disgrace the day before, the remainder of the afternoon had been hardly more than a blur of activity. Other dogs had competed, they had walked several more kilometres in their search for birds and sometimes even been successful, but Alix had hardly paid attention.
All of her interest was in Quinn and the disappointment she knew he must be feeling, even though he didn’t show it in any conventional way. It wasn’t his manner to complain, or to whine, much less to take out his anger on the dog.
‘There are no bad dogs; only bad handlers,’ he had said on more than one occasion, usually while instructing at the dog obedience club. And whatever his feelings about the day’s failure, he was if anything only more affectionate than usual to his own dog.
And to Nick, who despite his own excellent performance was beaten later in the afternoon when older, more experienced and better trained dogs found game and handled it with stunning expertise.
‘You’re shaping up to be a damn fine splendid hunter, old Nick,’ Quinn had said to the tired animal as Nick and Anna were kennelled upon their return home.
‘Yes, and you too, old girl,’ he crooned to Anna, giving her an affectionate pat. ‘But I’d sure like to know what induced you to play up out there today. I just hope it isn’t what I suspect.’
Alix only half heard the comment and it immediately slipped her mind in the welter of preparations for dinner, but once they had all gathered at table it returned, and she asked Quinn about it.
‘You don’t think she’s sick, do you? Oh, I hope not!’
His face held an unusual grimness when he replied. ‘Lovesick, maybe. We’ll find out in the morning, anyway.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Alix replied without giving his reply much thought. ‘Do you mean she played up because of some jealousy factor with Nick ...?’ Then paused, inwardly cursing herself for not having realised immediately what he meant.
‘I certainly do not.’ The grimness faded as his green eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘And for your information, dear Alix, dogs are bothered far less by base emotions like jealousy than people are. And never when they’re working. What I’m talking about is physical; I think she’s about due to come into season.’
‘Oh.’ Alix thought for a moment. ‘But that would mean she can’t compete tomorrow.’
‘I doubt if it will happen quite that quickly,’ he said drily, ‘but it might very well mean she’ll have the same dreamy little distractions that all females seem to have on such occasions, which will mean she won’t be working at her best. We’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘I think that was a chauvinistic and ... and rude thing to say!’ retorted Alix, momentarily forgetting her concern for Quinn’s chances in the competition. ‘And what’s more, I think it would serve you right if she did go all... soppy’
‘Soppy ... that’s a nice word,’ he said without losing his grin. ‘Is that what you do when you’re in love, Alix — go all soppy r
‘I really wouldn’t know, never having experienced such a problem,’ she replied pugnaciously.
‘Oh, come now. You don’t mean you weren’t — aren’t — in love with the bloke who stole your sketches and ran off to Canada?’
‘I certainly was not!’ Truth, which was more than could be said for her earlier remark. Was this man blind that he couldn’t see her feelings for him? Or did he simply not care?
‘What are you going to do if Anna docs come into season ... about breeding her, I mean?’ Alix asked then in a calculated bid to change the subject.
‘Well, the first thing I’m going to do is arrange to have that latch changed for one of your special designs,’ he said soberly. ‘And the second thing may very well be to lock Nick in his kennel and put the key in my pocket. Because contrary to the thoughts that I’m sure are running through your little mind, Alix, I do not want Nick and Anna doing their thing, to put it delicately.’
‘And may I ask why not? I suppose you still think he isn’t good enough?’
‘Did i say that?’ No smile, but his eyes showed the barely-suppressed amusement.
‘You did, and you know you did. But I can’t imagine how you’d have the nerve to repeat it after what he did today,’ Alix shot back, her eyes narrowed in anger.
‘He did a splendid job today, and I’d be the last to deny it,’ Quinn replied. ‘Which has nothing to do with anything at all.’
‘Well, by my judgement, they’d be quite complementary,’ Alix retorted. ‘And what’s more, she’d get just as good pups from Nick as from most of those dogs out there today.’
‘I’m sure she would, especially since most of them were also bitches,’ Quinn replied with a broad grin. ‘But that isn’t my point, and if you’d stop being so damned defensive about your wretched dog you’d realise that I simply don’t want Anna bred at all. Not ... at ... all.’
‘And even if you did you wouldn’t fancy Nick,’ Alix replied sullenly, not the least daunted by his emphasis on the not at all.
‘To be absolutely fair, he’d be my second choice,’ Quinn said. ‘There’s an American dog in Sydney they call "Hank the Yank" that I’d consider over Nick or any other dog I’ve seen recently, but that’s only personal preference.’
‘Huh! And what makes him so special?’ Alix asked, giving up nothing of her defensiveness.
For answer, Quinn rose from his chair and stalked out of the room, only to return a moment later with a brochure outlining the credentials of Australia’s first American import GSP He slapped the document down in front of Alix almost disdainfully.
‘This is probably a waste of time, considering your present state of mind,’ he said. ‘But look at it anyway; you might learn something. That is a totally different style of dog from your Nick — and note I said different, not necessarily better. A lot of fanciers who’ve seen this dog don’t like him at all, mostly because he’s got a different type of head than is common in this country. Personally, I far prefer it, and having seen the dog in the flesh I’m extremely impressed with his temperament as well.’
‘There’s nothing the matter with Nick’s temperament,’ Alix replied tautly.
‘He whinges.’
‘All GSPs whinge.’
‘Not this one. End of discussion,’ he said flatly. ‘Now what do you say we have some coffee
and talk about something else?’ There was no hint of amusement in Quinn’s expression any more. He was, for some reason, obviously bordering closely upon being extremely angry, and the silence that grew through coffee and dessert did little to relieve the tension.
Mrs Babcock, who had taken no part in the earlier argument, declared her personal need for an early night, and Alix, after seeing her safely off to bed, decided she’d best do the same.
But not without apologising to Quinn, she thought, no matter how distasteful a chore and no matter how much she dreaded the thought.
She knocked at the door of his study rather tentatively, then louder when there was no answer. Puzzled, she eased open the door and peeped in, but the room was empty.
Where could he be? Certainly not in his own bedroom, which she’d passed, door open, on her way downstairs. And after a quick search, she found he wasn’t in the house at all.
He’s probably with the dogs, she thought, and shivered slightly because that wouldn’t make anything easier. Nonetheless, she squared her shoulders resolutely and walked to the rear of the large house with every expectation of finding him.
Her puzzlement increased when she found both kennels empty and Quinn sitting silently at the bottom of the garden, a dog lying peaceably on each side of him. Nick rose with a wuffle of greeting at Alix’s approach, but Anna stayed silent beside her master, only the wriggling stub of her tail signifying any form of acknowledgement of Alix’s presence.
Quinn, to her surprise, bounced slightly to his feet and greeted her with an unexpected smile. ‘Sorry I was so snappy earlier on,’ he said. ‘I just wasn’t in the mood for an argument.’
‘It’s I who must apologise,’ she replied soberly. ‘I’m afraid I behaved quite abominably, and I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it,’ he said sincerely. ‘Been a long day, that’s all. How did you enjoy it, all things considered?’
‘I was... sorry about Anna. And naturally very pleased with old Nick,’ Alix replied with one hand moving down to caress her dog’s ears. ‘But except for the fact that there didn’t seem to be many birds, I thought it was rather impressive overall.’
‘Hah! The birds were there, make no mistake,’ he laughed. ‘The problem was that most of the dogs, until right near the end, weren’t working very well at all. Trials like that are pretty new here in Queensland, and I’m afraid the training isn’t all it could be in many cases.’
‘I see,’ Alix replied somewhat lamely, and after that they both lapsed into a more or less comfortable silence that lasted several minutes.
‘Well, I’m for bed,’ Quinn said then, ‘and I’d suggest you get to sleep too, because tomorrow will be a long day for everybody. Especially you, dogs.’
They walked back together to kennel the dogs, and then Quinn accompanied Alix the few steps to the door of her cottage. He took her arm at the doorway and Alix felt herself tingle with the pleasure of his touch. Then he reached out to hold her by the shoulders, very lightly, and she looked up to meet his eyes.
Kiss me, only not on the forehead, please, she said in her mind, trying at the same time to hold him with her eyes, to move him closer, bring his lips to hers.
‘Alix ...’ His whisper was a caress that stirred her blood, but her own answer was so soft that she couldn’t be sure he’d heard.
‘Yes?’ she said again, louder this time. His fingers closed slightly upon her shoulders and she trembled at the touch, feeling her tummy begin to flutter and her legs ache as she strained unconsciously upward to meet his lips.
Those lips descended, ever so slowly, and then to Alix’s amazement the line of descent shifted and she felt their cool, almost chilling touch upon her forehead just before he released her,
‘Goodnight,’ he said softly, and stepped away from her, oblivious somehow of the magnetism she tried so hard to discharge mentally, oblivious to her need, her desire for him to crush her into his arms and kiss her as he had on other occasions.
‘Goodnight,’ Alix managed to say, brokenly, before she turned and stumbled through the door into the cottage, blinded by agony and anger, wanting to run after him, to hold him, and yet also to throw something at him.
She cried herself to sleep, eventually, and in the process managed to convince herself that it was her own argumentative nature which had somehow turned him cold. Surely no man could be so totally blind, so callously unaware of the love which she knew must literally shine from her eyes.
She wept, but by morning had achieved an icy control of her own, and was determined that never again would Quinn Tennant get close enough to hurt her. Never!
Her foul temper must have communicated itself to Nick, because although he worked well enough in the novice class at the retrieving trial that morning, he was nowhere near at his best. Even so, he was streets ahead of Anna, who performed in the all-age stakes like anything but the well-trained dog she usually was.
Alix, watching with Mrs Babcock from a convenient spot in the shade of some big gum trees beside the placid Kolan River, where the retrieving trials were held, could only gasp at the dog’s antics.
‘Oh, Quinn will be so disappointed," she said, barely able to keep her own disappointment from welling up in tears of sympathy.
‘Not particularly,’ was the astonishing reply. ‘Oh, he’ll be disappointed, all right, but I fancy he’s got other things on his mind that are far more important right at the moment. You’ve been fighting again, you two?’
‘No, unless you mean that silly argument last night, but we made that up ... after a fashion.’ Alix really didn’t want to discuss it, but she also couldn’t bear to rebuff the kindly woman.
‘It wasn’t last night I was thinking of, although he’d no need of ice to keep the beer cold with you around this morning. So if you’re not fighting, you’re certainly not doing much of anything else, eh?’
Alix admitted as much, though not with any degree of enthusiasm.
‘There isn’t anything else ... period,’ she said in a mixture of sadness and truculence. ‘There can’t be — he isn’t interested and that’s all there is to it.’
‘Piffle!’ was the expectable remark from Mrs Babcock, who made no secret, at least in Alix’s presence, that she thought Alix and Quinn were destined to make a match of it.
If I could only be half so sure, no, a tenth — I’d perhaps be able to cope, Alix thought. But she couldn’t, and there was no longer any logic in trying to convince herself of it. Quinn didn’t and couldn’t care for her, except perhaps as a friend and fellow dog enthusiast. And that, for her, just wasn’t enough.
Yet she couldn’t hold her heart from going out to him when he returned with Anna, unqualified after only the first round of the all-age competition.
Nor could she help the warmth that flowed through her when instead of showing his frustration and anger to the dog, he caressed Anna instead and told her how pretty she was, and how damned irresponsible and stupid and awful, but in such tones that Anna — who understood only the tone, not the words — wriggled with pleasure, her stumpy tail flickering as she nuzzled against her master’s hand.
All too easy to take one’s frustrations out on a dog, Alix knew, but how much more truly masculine, more lovable, more human, to uphold the dog’s confidence and love by simply praising it and showing it the love it deserved.
During her childhood she had seen all too often the men who defended their dogs in public, yet treated them abominably in private, or what they thought was private, for the slightest misdemeanour. She knew equally that firm discipline, tempered by genuine affection and fairness, was the only way to achieve substantial success as a dog handler, and Quinn carried that maxim to extremes.
‘She isn’t happy,’ was his only remark when he returned to them after having been unqualified in the first round. No anger, no severe chastisement, no grudges. Quinn Tennant loved his dog more than he cared for any of her trophies, or her faults. Just as Alix loved her Nick … and Quinn Tennant
But t
o less avail, and it was at that moment, seated comfortably beneath a spreading tree on the riverbank as a hefty, broad-headed Labrador Retriever made his straight line, rushing dash to collect the simulated result of his master’s blank-cartridge shot, that Alix knew for certain she must begin planning to leave Bundaberg.
And then Quinn was speaking, saying that he thought he’d return both dogs to their home kennel where they could relax in peace and familiar surroundings, and did Alix and Mrs B. want to see the rest of the trials, or return with him to the house?
‘We’ll stay, both of us,’ said Mrs B., and Alix had no chance to interject because he had already collected both dogs and was turned away before she had any opportunity to say that she would like to leave too.
Quinn returned just in time for the final round of the all-age Stakes, in which the field had been narrowed down to only four dogs. Surprisingly, only one was a Labrador Retriever; and even more surprising was that the other three were divided into a Weimaraner, a Golden Retriever and a GSP
‘The Lab will win,’ Quinn informed no one in particular, handing round icy tins of beer as he sat down on the grass beside Alix and Mrs Babcock.
The exercise involved a double retrieve with a blind, one bird being ‘shot’ so as to land in the water after the other, unseen by either dog or handler, was placed in extremely dense weed along the edge of the large pond being used for the exercise.
The first dog out, the Weimaraner, made a poor show of the walk-up to the exercise, which involved going through a barbed-wire fence in the approved fashion, and then failed to find the unseen bird in the dense weed.
The GSP, a muscular, liver-colourcd bitch owned by a Bundaberg trainer, worked well enough, but at such speed that she kept over-shooting the planted bird, and although she finally managed both retrieves, it wasn’t the best exhibition of its type.
Even the owner had to laugh at the antics of the big Golden Retriever, whose slow, dignified approach to the entire exercise seemed more of a performance than any form of competition. Waving his tail like an erect flag, he seemed to float through the whole thing in total disdain of his owner’s commands, though he did get the job done in the end.
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