David arrived at just a few minutes after nine to pick her up. When she crawled up into his truck, he a look she couldn't quite decipher. "What?"

"Your outfit…"

She glanced down at what she was wearing. She certainly wasn't dressed for mucking out stalls or feeding any of the animals, but she was dressed comfortably in a pair of conservative slacks and a heavy knit sweater to ward off the cold. It was almost mid-March, but Maine still had a chill in the air and Belle wasn't quite used to this kind of cold. "I was always told to dress a little bit better than what you're expected to wear at the job."

He eyed the heels she had chosen. She liked her heels and even if it wasn't possible to wear them on the job, she would any chance she got. Belle was tiny. Very tiny if you listened to everyone else. Just barely over five feet tall, the heels at least put her on somewhat the same level as most of the women she met.

"He's going to hate me, isn't he?" Belle finally managed to ask. David glanced over at her as he started up the truck and drove off.

"Not at all." She could hear the laugh behind the words. "He's going to love you."

"I brought a change of clothes," she pointed out.

"Well, always best to come prepared."

"Why do I feel that you're humoring me?"

David shook his head. "Never. He'll be impressed that you're prepared."

"Will he?" Belle tried so very hard to not sound concerned, but she was. Very concerned. This job could mean the difference between proper care for her father and nothing. It meant a chance to get ahead, maybe even save a little bit for herself, get her own apartment, something. She had butterflies in her stomach and the lack of nice things said about her potential employer made it all that much more difficult for her.

"He's going to love you," David repeated.

Why did Belle get the feeling that there was absolutely no sincerity behind those words?

"No." The door had opened, the man behind it had done little more than look Belle up and down once before trying to shut them out.

David stuck his foot out, catching the door before it could close on them. "You haven't even spoken to her," he pointed out. The man behind the door glared at him, brown eyes narrowed on the much taller man. There wasn't much to Mr. Gold, really. He was a small man, not much taller than Belle in her heels, thin. His shaggy greying hair fell across his furrowed brow as he glared at the pair of them. There were deep grooves over the bridge of his slightly-hooked nose that made it obvious he wore this expression often. He seemed a dour man, unhappy and angry.

"Get out." He leaned against the door and attempted to use his crutch to dislodge David's foot.

"Oh please, sir," Belle said. "David was nice enough to bring me all this way."

"The least you could do is meet with her," David pointed out.

"I have. And I say no. Now…"

"Wait," Belle said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gold suddenly said and she was amazed to see the furrows melt off his face, leaving behind softer lines. He leaned a little toward her, took one step. David backed up slightly to allow him the space. "You seem to be languishing under the impression that I care."

His face went hard again as he smacked David's foot with one crutch and slammed the door in their faces.

For a moment the pair stood there, stunned. "Well, that went well," David said.

"Oh yes," Belle responded with and couldn't help the slight laugh that bubbled up from her. "Very well indeed."

David reached out a hand and touched her shoulder briefly. "Actually, it went better than I thought it would." He sighed as he stepped off the porch and waved her along with him.

"Well, that says a lot then, doesn't?" She'd never had such a short interview. Not that she had had many in her life, but even Mr. Clark had spent more time with her before deciding she could work at the pharmacy. The jobs she had been turned down for had been based on long interviews that eventually led to a better candidate getting the job.

There were no other candidates from what David and his wife had said.

"Wait." Belle stopped in her tracks and looked back at the house. He was stuck, she realized. No one wanted to come up here. But she wanted to come up here. Ornery or not, she could deal with him. Rushing back, she pounded on the door.

It took a few moments, but the door finally swung open. Gold's eyebrows rose. "I thought I…"

"I'm the only one you've got." The words rushed out of Belle's mouth. She was. She knew it. She had at least this much leverage over him. "So if you don't at least give me a chance, what are you going to do?"

"I'll do it all on my own." The words were nearly snarled at her, accompanied by a baring of teeth.

"On crutches?" Belle crossed her arms over her chest.

"I am fine. Which I have told Mr. Nolan any number of times." He looked past Belle at the other man. David still stood off the porch behind her, watching. She glanced at him briefly. By the slightly open-mouthed look, she was fairly certain he hadn't expected her to push Gold this way. Good. Let them all realize that she couldn't be pushed around. She might be small. But she was also desperate and desperation led to her doing rash things on occasion.

"Are you?" she shot back. "I understand you had some difficulties the other day and that's why David was searching the town for someone to help you."

"No," he muttered. But it was easy to tell that she had gotten the better of him in that moment. "Miss…" He waved a hand at her.

"French. Belle French." She stuck out her hand and he simply looked at it, but made no attempt to reach out and take the proffered hand.

"Why don't you come in then?" He turned away from her, gripped the crutches in both hands and made his hobbling way into his inner sanctum. Belle glanced briefly at David and watched as he shrugged. Taking a deep breath, she turned to follow Gold, but almost ran into the man. He turned, raised one hand toward David. "Why don't you make yourself useful, dearie, and look in on the sheep?" Then he walked off once more.

She was more certain than ever that he was damned near desperate for help, though something told her he would never admit to that much. It made it all so very fascinating. She was desperate but trying to act somewhat nonchalant about it all. He was desperate and trying hard not to appear that way. Maybe this would work if they simply kept to their separate acts.

He waved her into what appears to be his living room. The place wasn't comfortable, at least by her standards. An older couch that was beautiful, but with a rather hard surface. Antique clocks and knick-knacks covered many of the surfaces. It was crowded yet everything seemed to have its clear place. But Belle had never been the most graceful person. She had once taken a dance class and somehow managed to knock over three of the other girls in the class before the teacher had excused her. She had broken her ankle in high school just by slipping off the edge of a sidewalk.

His place frankly made her worry about even moving and so she sat down, perched on the end of the couch and waited for him to situate himself.

"So Miss French…"

"Belle," she pointed out. "I hate being called Miss anything." She tried to smile at him, but the look on his face was so serious that her smile simply dissipated before it could properly form.

"Miss French," he repeated and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Exactly why do you want this job?"

"I thought that would be rather obvious."

"Considering this is a job that calls for a fair amount of strength?" He waved a hand at her. The intent of his words was obvious.

"I'm stronger than I look." He gave her a rather assessing look, one eyebrow up. "You're not that much bigger than I am," she pointed out. For a moment he stared at her and she wasn't sure if he was going to snarl at her or simply toss her out on her ear.

And then he laughed.

It transformed his face entirely. The deep furrows that formed between his brows disappeared and she noticed that he had laugh lines for the first time. There was something there, some layer she was just seeing peeled back a little. Drawing himself to his feet, he hobbled over to her, the crutches bearing most of his weight, and held out his hand.

She stared up at him, eyes wide, uncertain. "Come Miss French. I don't bite." She waited one more moment and then put her hand in his, allowed him to draw her to feet. He was close to her when she rose, perhaps a little too close, his eyes intense as he watched her. "Well, not that often at least."

A shiver went through her as he dropped her hand and hobbled away. "Let me show you the barn."

She caught up to him, put her hand on his arm. "So I'm hired?"

He turned back to look at her and she quickly withdrew her hand. "I didn't say that." As she followed him out of the house and across the dirt walkway to the barn, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. She had a feeling that would be fairly common around him.

She was hired. She knew it. He knew it. But she would play his game. Any game really. If it netted her a hundred dollars an hour she'd go to work for the devil himself. She'd do the chores in the nude if she had to. Ok, maybe not that. But she would work hard, as hard as she needed to in order to ensure he didn't fire her on the first day.

Gold led her out and around the side of the house. He carefully picked his way through the grass and dirt, finding some sort of purchase with his crutches before moving forward. It was slow going, a sort of odd processional, but she kept to his pace, hanging back, watching the man.

He led them first to the barn that she had noticed when they'd driven up. She could hear the occasional bleating coming from inside and heard the murmur of a lone voice. Gold turned back to her before they stepped inside and there was an amused glint in his eyes. "Mr. Nolan apparently likes talking to the animals."

She caught up to him then and found herself smiling back. "And you don't?"

He shrugged. "Well, not the sheep at least."

"You have other animals?" She found herself suddenly interested in what exactly he did have on this little farm of his.

His eyebrows rose. "Have you never been on a working sheep farm before, Miss French?"

"I probably shouldn't admit this, but I've never actually been on a farm before." She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it. She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"Really then?" She looked up to find him studying her, as if she were some sort of interesting bug he had under the microscope. "City girl?"

"Born and bred. Sydney, originally…"

"That explains the accent," he muttered.

"I've lost a lot of it over the years." She shrugged at the words. "My Papa and I came over when I was twelve."

"And that would be how many years ago, Miss French?"

She gave a small laugh at that. "A lady never tells her age, Mr. Gold." She gave him a coy look from lowered lashes. "Don't you know that by now?"

He leaned just a little bit closer. "Indeed I do. But if you're going to work for me you are going to have to fill out paperwork that tells me how old you are."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "And I suppose you're just the type to look aren't you?"

He gave a short bark of laughter and she was pleased to see those laugh lines crease for a moment. There was a sense of humor there. Somewhere. "Indeed I am."

"Over eighteen years ago," Belle muttered. "Does that make you happy?"

"Close enough," he responded with. "Come then. Let me introduce you to my friends."

She raised an eyebrow and slipped inside the barn with him. It was dim inside, lit by some high windows and a few electric lights along one of the walls. She could hear David moving about inside one of the nearby stalls, he sound of the voice quiet as he spoke to the sheep. It seemed almost sad. Were these Gold's only friends? He seemed lonely, she realized, up here on the hill living in a great big farmhouse by himself. David didn't seem to be a friend so much as a colleague, a fellow shepherd, and someone who at least cared enough to help Gold out.

Gold stopped briefly and allowed her to peer inside the stall David was working in. She watched him for a moment as he pushed the hay to the side of the stall and scooped up any of the excrement he found there.

"Not too appetizing, is it?"

She turned to look at Gold and scrunched her nose up. "I can handle it."

He nodded and waved her away from the stall. "I have about thirty sheep, sometimes a bit more, sometimes less. Many more during lambing season, but we won't be doing that this year." She saw him grimace slightly and she had a good feeling why he wouldn't be doing such a thing. She didn't dare ask.

He pointed at the three stalls she saw along the side. "They're housed in two large stalls, three when the lambs are born to give them more space." He turned to her then. "My sheep spend most of the day out on the hillside. That's where they are now. They bed down in here at night where they're safe from predators and stupid teenagers."

"Teenagers?"

"We've had some…trouble…on occasion. They set Mr. Nolan's sheep free one night. He lost two and there was a rather serious car accident…"

"Yours?" She almost clamped her hand over her mouth after the question came out. She didn't mean to ask. David had told her about his accident, or at least that he had been in one. But he hadn't given her any details about what happened.

His eyebrows lowered. "No," was all he said to her question. For a moment he was silent, brooding, and then the look cleared and he waved her on ahead again. "Let me show you something else."

Belle nodded and followed him to the back of the barn. She didn't want to ask anything else about the accident that destroyed his ankle. She could see how it was twisted and even though he was healing, there was still a lot of progress yet to be made. David hadn't indicated how long this recovery was but the accident had apparently been over a month ago and he had only just come home. He'd been on crutches since he had gotten back on his feet, had a lot of painful physical therapy ahead of him, and would eventually need a cane to keep his balance. Quite possibly forever, from what she understood and she tried very hard not to feel bad for him. He wasn't a young man, but he wasn't an old one either, and having your mobility stolen in such a way had to be difficult.

Especially for someone as proud as Mr. Gold appeared to be. He was not a soft man, all hard edges and anger, and she suspected he had long prided himself on being self-sufficient. This couldn't be easy for him.

When they reached the back he unlocked a door she hadn't noticed at first. "You might want to stand back a little bit." The words were said with a slight twist of his lips.

"Why?" she started to ask, but didn't have to question it a moment more. Several dogs came bounding out of the room. One went straight to Gold. Larger than the rest, red and white, he was focused solely on Gold and immediately rushed to his side, turning to face the same direction and laying down.

The other dogs scattered, some going to explore, some rushing to Belle. She squatted down on the barn floor as two approached and allowed them to sniff her before reaching out to scratch necks. One, a young dog that looked to be barely out of puppyhood, took off zooming around the barn before racing to Belle and almost knocking her clear off her feet. "Well, he's an exuberant one, isn't he?"

She looked up to find Gold watching her, his look assessing. "She, actually. Bandit."

"Bandit?" She scratched the dog's ear, let her chew on her fingers for a moment.

"The mask," he pointed out and Belle looked closely, realizing that the markings on her face formed a sort of dark mask around the eyes.

"She looks like a Bandit," she agreed.

"Border collies."

"All of them?"

He smiled. "Indeed. The breed was developed in the Scottish border region specifically to herd sheep. They're intelligent and wise and some of the most amazing creatures on earth." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. The lines of his face had softened and for a moment he looked like an entirely different person than the man who had slammed the door shut in her face not that long ago.

"These guys herd your sheep?" She watched the dogs as they sniffed and explored the barn and finally settled down. Most watched Gold carefully, but one or two were still curious about the woman sitting on the floor of the barn.

"Yes. Working dogs, all of them." He indicated the dog that was still crouched at his side, his intensity obvious in the taut lines of his body. "This is Taz." At his name, the big red and white dog looked up at Gold. "That'll do," he whispered and the dog went slack, the intensity disappearing in an instant.

As soon as he seemed to be released from some mysterious bond to Gold that he had, the dog stepped away, walked the handful of feet over to Belle. He watched her and she was sure that there was something intelligent, something almost human in that amber gaze. And then the dog heaved what she could only describe as a sigh and lay down at her side, head in her lap.

Gold let out a strange choking sound and Belle had to stop herself from springing to her feet. "Is something wrong?"

"I…" He stopped there and his eyes were wide. Belle gave Taz a quick scratch behind the ear before standing.

"Mr. Gold?"

"I…um…sorry…what was that?" He seemed dazed and she wasn't quite sure what to make of that

"I asked if something were wrong…"

He shook his head and met her eyes for a moment. "It seems I have severely underestimated you, Miss French."

"Did you now?" She had no idea what was even going on. Why this sudden change of heart, this strangeness.

"I did. The job is yours, if you'll have it."

She had to stop herself from squealing and instead held out a hand. "Of course I'll take it." He took her hand in his, just a light clasping together of their hands, but she felt the electric jolt down to her toes.

"Come then," he said. "There is much to discuss." He whistled to the dogs and they immediately returned to their room in the barn. Only Taz stayed at his side and as he turned to lead her back to the house, the big dog followed behind.

Belle honestly had no idea what had just happened, but it didn't really matter in the long run. The job, and all that it entailed, was hers.