"Are you sure I'm ready for this?" They had packed up the truck that morning, bringing plenty of water and food for Bandit and some snacks for themselves. The trial site was over an hour away and they wanted to be prepared.

She didn't feel prepared.

Well, she did. But at the same time she didn't. Gold had prepped her well, drilling the movements over and over again, working with her tirelessly over the past few weeks. Their relationship had changed during that time. He seemed more open with her, somehow, as if finally consummating whatever sort of relationship they were creating for themselves allowed him to actually show he cared.

And he did, she knew. She could see it in the way he took extra care with her, the way he paid attention to her, the way he was less short with her than anyone else. If David Nolan showed up and needled him, Gold let him have it. But when Belle screwed up and the herding went to hell, he simply said Try again. No sharp words. No rudeness.

In the evenings they had taken to watching videos of great herding demonstrations so she could see what it looked like when done right. And what it looked like when done wrong. They watched video after video of novice, even advanced, shepherds make mistakes. And Gold made no bones about it. The mistakes were almost always the handler's fault. You know what I see when I look in the mirror? 99 percent of my dog's problems. She hadn't forgot that. Bandit was not the one at fault in almost all the times they made a mistake. She was. Gold was quick to point out the handful of times Bandit simply ignored her because she got too excited. It happened.

And it was likely to happen at the trial.

Gold was absolutely honest about the trial. It was stressful. Terribly so. You were doing something you've always done on your own in front of a large crowd and judges. Every time he brought up the trial, Belle felt an odd fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She wasn't the sort who liked to be the center of attention. She remembered, at the tender age of five, she had wanted to try dance. She had loved the dancers, loved their grace and their beauty and the tutus they wore. So her father had signed her up for classes.

She had done well, almost a natural at it. And then she had to perform at a recital. And she had frozen, the lights and crowd and noise too much. And she had run off stage, never to return again. She decided that day she wanted to be a librarian. It was an odd sort of choice for a five-year-old, but she had stuck to it.

Ending up a shepherd wasn't exactly in her plans. But she couldn't complain.

"So this trial…" Belle started to ask. They were perhaps only twenty minutes out from the trial location and the butterflies had been set free in her stomach.

"Yes. I should probably tell you something about it." Gold's voice sounded half amused, half something else Belle couldn't quite define. Worry, maybe. Nervousness. He ultimately was her trainer after all and she imagined that put his name on the line.

"Well, you've already told me about it…"

"Oh but I haven't." And this time she was sure there was amusement there. "I haven't told you about the people you're likely to meet."

"People? Such as…"

It turned out Gold had a long history with some of the competitors. He had had a short-lived relationship with a woman named Cora (very short-lived, he stressed), who was likely to be there. He'd apparently heard from someone that she had been training her daughter and was expecting this to be her debut.

"So fair warning then I see?" Nonchalant. That's what she was trying for at least. But it made it all so much more real, so much more important. She never quite imagined she'd meet anyone Gold had been with before. It's been a long time to her had meant that chance was next to none. He assured her that whatever he'd had with Cora had been blessedly short. The woman was hard, heartless, and they had ended up rivals on the trial circuit instead of lovers.

But still.

"Fair warning indeed," Gold returned.

The rest of the drive was quiet and peaceful, Belle lost in her thoughts somewhere. When they pulled off the road, following the signs to the competitor's parking, Belle realized it was all real, all about to happen.

They stepped out of the truck and were instantly approached by an older man. "King," Gold said, his voice short.

"Never thought I'd see you around these parts again," the other man said. His voice was clipped, almost annoyed.

"Don't worry, King. I'm not here to kick your arse." Belle watched King's eyes narrow. "I've long since left that nonsense behind me." King looked like he was about to say something when Gold suddenly drew her forward. "Albert King, meet Belle French."

"A student?" King's eyebrows rose on the words.

"Of sorts," Gold said, keeping an arm almost protectively around her.

"I see." And the way he looked back and forth between them led her to believe he did indeed see. There was something rather sharp about the man. She was sure he saw the nature of their relationship without Gold having to spell it out. "Well, Miss French. Best of luck to you then." He turned and walked away without so much as a word to Gold.

"That was…"

"Albert King. He's still bitter I beat his best dog eight years ago."

"Right," Belle responded with.

"Come on," Gold said. "Let's get you registered before we run into any other old skeletons."

"From your closet?" She couldn't help the teasing note to her voice.

"Something like that." He sounded almost grim.

Registration went smoothly. She got her number, her place in the line-up, instructions on where to be and what to do and not to do. It seemed that trials were fairly strict about interacting with other competitors and keeping your dogs under control. An out of control dog could mean a disaster for a competitor and those who didn't keep good control over their dogs were generally barred from further trials.

"Mr. Nolan." Belle turned at Gold's words and saw David approaching them. True to his word, he didn't have any dogs with him and was looking completely relaxed. Mary Margaret was at his side, baby Emma, held close in a sling.

"You came." Belle reached out a hand to the man and squeezed it briefly. "And how is our wee one today?"

Mary Margaret was beaming. "She's the happiest baby I know."

"Of course she is," Gold muttered. Belle was about to say something else when she saw the look that swept over Gold's face. His eyes narrowed slightly, mouth thinned, the lines looking more pronounced. "Mr. Nolan, would you please take Belle to the waiting area?" His voice had turned almost conversational, too nice really.

And Belle knew what that meant.

She just knew it.

She had spent enough time with Gold by now to recognize that when he was at his most dangerous, his darkest, his voice was measured and calm.

"Well, this is quite the surprise." Belle turned to see the woman approach. Older, close to Gold's age, with pinched features and eyes that were far too knowing to be as guileless as she attempted to appear.

"Nolan," Gold muttered.

"Belle," David started to say but instead she turned away from him, linked her arm with Gold's, and felt him stiffen next to her.

"And just who is this little strumpet?" the woman asked. She spoke without using her mouth, as if it had simply frozen into place. There was an edge to her voice, one that should have made Belle uncomfortable but instead made her hackles rise, her eyes narrow just slightly.

"Cora," Gold said and there was nothing nice about the tone.

"Belle French," Belle said, holding out her hand. She wasn't surprised when the woman didn't take it, glancing down at the proffered hand as if she had offered her poison. "I've heard so much about you."

Cora's eyes flitted to Gold and then back to her. "Have you now?" That edge was still there. Tempered with...something. Belle couldn't quite explain what that something was. Gold had assured her that whatever he had had with Cora was short-lived at best. I didn't lie when I said there had been no one since my ex-wife. Cora had been nothing. But the way the woman looked at him, like she was a wolf eying her prey, made Belle want to go on the offense.

"Oh yes." And she smiled. But she knew it didn't reach her eyes. Two could play at this game.

"All of it good, I'm sure." Cora looked briefly to Gold before her eyes settled back on Belle.

Belle smiled at that. "Hardly," she responded with, the word dry. As Cora's eyes widened slightly, Belle turned to walk away. Gold didn't immediately follow and so Belle stopped, turned back. "Aren't you coming?"

He gave one last look to Cora, something unreadable, but she was almost sure there was a smirk playing about his lips. "Of course, dear." And then he stepped closer to her, held out an arm and they walked off, arms linked, in lock step.

David Nolan gave one last look over his shoulder, grinned at the woman they were leaving behind, and departed with them.

Sometimes it was just easier, Belle realized, to say something without even saying anything. Cora was nothing. She knew that. And she was thankful that Gold had given her some sort of warning about the woman. But still, she could see the way his face tightened and the look of annoyance in his eyes when she had approached. Even if she hadn't known a thing about any potential past relationship, she would have known she wasn't any sort of threat.

"That was brilliant," Mary Margaret said as she walked closer to Belle.

"I…"

"No seriously," she continued on with. "That woman has been a thorn in everyone's side. I can't tell you the amount of times she's said crass things to David." Mary Margaret leaned closer to her. "Worse even than Gold."

Belle let out a laugh at that. She couldn't help it. She'd heard some of the things Gold had said to the man, after all. Insults to his intelligence, his ability to work sheep. If Cora was worse, she wasn't sure she wanted to know much more.

The wait had been nerve-wracking. Gold and Belle had watched the competitors before her, saw the triumphs and the disasters. There were people who were absolutely new to trialing, people who had trained many sheepdogs before trying out their young dogs. Gold watched each with a critical eye. Belle could beat them all if she put her mind to it.

Belle had paced. Then watched. Then paced some more. "I can't do this," she had murmured. More than once. Gold spent most of the time trying to keep her calm and the other half worried about her. He hadn't seen her like this. The Belle he had come to know and…well…was calm, cool. She faced down the likes of Cora and put her in her place. She put up with his moods with grace and dignity and occasionally a little anger

But this Belle who looked so completely out of sorts, almost green around the edges, was not the Belle he knew.

"Are you ok?" he finally asked, reaching out and gripping her upper arms lightly. It stopped her from moving at least.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she muttered and tried to keep moving.

"You're upsetting Bandit."

He watched her glance down at the dog and she instantly softened, squatting down next to the dog. "I'm sorry, girl," she murmured before standing again. "I'll be fine."

But she wasn't.

He was sure of it.

When the person before her was out there, he handed her the crook she used and sent her to the place the next in line was to wait. He watched as she took some deep breaths, her eyes glued to the action. The person before her was having a decent enough run. A few bobbles here and there that would take off points. The outrun was a little short, the dog lifting the sheep too quickly. But they went through the first set of gates fairly smoothly. He could see Belle lean forward as they did so, watching, intent. She knew what to do. She knew what to look out for.

And then the person before her was done. They just barely missed getting the sheep penned. Two of the five went in, but that was it. Time was called and their run was over. Not the biggest failure, but he could see the lines of disappointment on the young man's face. Better luck next time. You'll get it. It was a good first run…The words were all platitudes, but he could see it lifting the man's spirits nonetheless.

"Go get 'em Belle," he whispered.

David Nolan appeared beside him. "She'll be fine."

He shot the other man a look. "She's nervous."

"Of course she is…"

"Yes but this is different." He waved one hand in the air.

Nolan just watched him for a moment. "You care about her." And he sounded slightly surprised.

"Of course I do," Gold snapped and then realized what he said. Nolan. The man brought out the worst in him. Or maybe the best. Belle would definitely think it was the best. "Dammit," he muttered.

"I knew it, old man."

Gold just shook his head and turned away to watch Belle.

She stepped up to the starting point, got the go ahead from the judges. And then he took a deep breath as she released Bandit. He couldn't hear the release words. Away to me. And then Bandit shot off to the right. He had given her that much information about the course at least. The sheep needed to drive down just slightly to the left to get to the first gates. A simple enough maneuver.

And Bandit looked brilliant. He could see Belle's excitement could see her leaning forward. She blew the whistle once, twice. Bandit stopped. The sheep slowed. They crept closer to the gates. Slow and steady, he had pointed out. If she moved Bandit too quickly, if she became aware of how much time had passed, she would screw up. And so slowly. Ever so slowly, the sheep crept toward the gate.

But they were moving.

And it was a straight path.

All she had to do was keep them on that path and she'd have the first part of the run.

But then he watched Belle glance off to the side, watched her give the judge's a nervous look. And then she froze.

Bandit moved in closer to the sheep. Too close.

The sheep started to scatter. He wanted to shout, wanted to tell her what to do. Blow the whistle, stop the dog. Stop the action. But Belle just stared, frozen to the spot. And Bandit moved in closer.

One sheep veered away, moving back toward the larger flock at the top of the field. That seemed to break Belle out of the trance she was in, but it was too little too late. She had lost Bandit. She had lost the sheep. Her whistle rang frantically and Bandit stopped, started, stopped again, and then rushed in toward the sheep.

When she gripped one of the sheep by the leg, something he had only seen her do once, the judge's whistle rang out.

The run was over.

It had barely begun.

Belle glanced over at the judges and he could the whiteness to her face, the tension. She almost didn't comprehend but finally shook herself and called Bandit back to her. Gold shot Nolan a dark look before gripping his cane and rushing to the fence to meet Belle.

"Belle," he started to say and she blew past him, Bandit close on her heels. "Belle!" He tried not to shout her name but couldn't help it. Still she paid him no mind. Just kept moving.

And he realized what she was doing. She wanted out of there. She wanted someplace private. So he allowed her to rush off, knowing he couldn't keep up, knowing she didn't want him to keep up. "Maybe let her be?" Nolan said, coming up behind him.

Gold shook his head. "No. I don't think she should be alone right now."

Nolan nodded and he headed off. Slowly this time, each step measured. He wanted to give her enough time to blow off steam, cry, whatever she needed to do before he stepped back into the picture. She was embarrassed. He knew that much. But she also needed to understand that these things happened. And more often than she thought.

When he made his way to the truck, he found Belle sitting in the shade at the rear of it, Bandit in her lap. He took a deep breath and said her name.

She looked up at him and he could see the tears in her eyes, the tracks down her cheeks. "I should have known I couldn't do this." The words were quiet, but firm. She meant them.

"You can."

"No." She shook her head, misery written in every line of her face. "You don't understand."

"Belle I've seen you do this entire course. You could do it in your sleep…"

"Not when people are watching." He said nothing, just watched her. She repeated the words. "Everything seemed so easy at first. But then…there were judges. And Cora. And you. And I just couldn't focus. I lost her."

"You have stage fright." There was no question there. He hadn't known. How could he have? Belle was always so relaxed and when he brought up trials, she had seemed excited.

She nodded and hugged Bandit tighter. "When I was just a little girl, I wanted to be a dancer. But I froze, Tavish. I froze. Just like I did today. And any thoughts of becoming a dancer went right out the window."

"And so you holed yourself up with your books and your library."

"Yes. Libraries are easy. They don't put you on display. They don't judge you."

"I didn't know," he murmured and reached out a hand to her.

She took it, squeezing it lightly before pulling herself closer to him. No easy feat with a 40-pound Border Collie still in her lap. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"So we don't trial," he finally said. "There's no shame in that…"

She was silent for a moment before pulling away and meeting his eyes. "No," she said. "No, I want to." The words were firm, resolute.

"You…"

"I do. I want Bandit to have a chance to shine. She's such a good dog. She gives so much. She gave so much. Did you see her out there?" Her smile was a watery one, but it was a good sign.

"I did."

"She looked great. That outrun…"

"It was beautiful," Gold cut her off with. And it was. Bandit had looked gorgeous running out and around the flock. She had picked them up perfectly, just as they had done in practice so many times before. The dog had been simply marvelous. And she could have had it all, if only Belle hadn't frozen.

"Then we need to practice," Gold said.

"We have…"

"No. Not like we always have. Proofing," he said, as if she would understand exactly what he meant.

"Proofing?" He watched as she blinked and while there were still tears in her eyes, he could see her weighing the word and the implications behind it. He could see her mind working.

"We need people," he muttered. "People and fake judges and a tent."

"What?"

"Yes," he said. "We're going to proof the hell out this. And when you get to the next trial, it will be so old hat you won't even think about the judges or the people watching."

He had a plan, such as it was. Now he just had to implement it.