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but you aren’t a Saint Bernard. And while I wouldn’t ordinarily have a problem with you, I just don’t want to be saddled with four or more puppies that no one else wants! You’ll have to find somewhere else to sow your wild oats, I’m afraid.”
    Mop whimpered softly and wagged his entire body.
    “No, I can’t be persuaded. Good heavens, Mop, you wouldn’t even be around to raise and support them! I know you men! You just run off and leave all the responsibility to the woman. You’d be out there herding sheep as if you hadn’t a care in the world and poor Guinevere would be saddled with all these hungry pups. I won’t change my mind.”
    Mop settled down with his head on his paws watching both the door of the house and Esther at the same time.
    Cautiously, Esther squatted and scratched behind his ears—or at least where she presumed his ears to be. Ah, yes, there they were. “You’re an engaging rake,” she told him gently. “You even have nice manners, and I wasn’t expecting that from an outdoor dog. I thought you’d be far more aggressive and full of yourself. After all, those sheep certainly jump when you bark. All of them except Cromwell, that is.”
    “Can I have my dog back?”
    Straightening, Esther turned and saw that Craig Nighthawk had appeared on horseback at the fence line. “Certainly,” she called to him. “Be my guest.”
    Craig whistled. Mop lifted his shaggy head and looked toward his master. A whimper escaped him, but he didn’t budge.
    “Mop, come here.”
    Mop woofed but remained unmoved.
    Craig said something that sounded like an oath, though Esther really couldn’t be sure at this distance. He whistled yet again, and when the dog ignored him once again, he dismounted and eased himself through the barbed wire. The man who strode toward her this afternoon had none of the easy manner she’d seen the morning they met. In fact, he looked seriously annoyed.
    “What have you done to my dog?” he asked.
    “Not a thing, really. I just got home and found him here.”
    “You’ve bewitched him, right?” He settled his hands on his hips and looked from her to the dog and back.
    “Actually, it was a love potion.”
    He looked startled. “A what?”
    “A love potion.”
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake!”
    “I kid you not, Mr. Nighthawk. Mop is smitten.”
    Realization dawned. “Your dog is in heat?”
    “In a manner of speaking. Why do they call it heat, do you suppose?”
    He looked at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “I can’t imagine,” he said finally. “Why the hell haven’t you had your dog spayed?”
    “Why the hell haven’t you had yours neutered?”
    He scowled. “Because I’m going to need more sheepdogs for the rest of my life, and I can’t afford to buy new ones every time I turn around! I have a breeding pair of komondors!”
    “You have a female? Really?”
    “Yes, I have a female!”
    “So Mop isn’t deprived as I thought?”
    Now he looked thunderstruck. “Deprived? You were worried if the dog was deprived? ”
    “Well, of course I was. Dogs are very social creatures, and sometimes they need the companionship of dogs as well as people. I’ve been worrying because Guinevere has no one but me. Unfortunately, I can’t let her play with Mop because I don’t want to have a litter of puppies just now.”
    “Thank God for small favors. Mop is a working dog. He can’t just run off and play any time he feels like it. That’s reserved for when work is done.”
    “That’s perfectly fair.”
    “But you need to have your dog spayed.”
    Esther was offended. “I’ll do no such thing! I’ll have you know Guinevere has champion bloodlines, and I fully intend to breed her one of these days.”
    “Good luck. If there’s another champion shorthaired Saint Bernard within five hundred miles, I’ll eat my hat.”
    He was very likely right, but that was begging the issue. “When the time comes, that will be the least of my difficulties. For