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I count them three times, but the result doesn’t change. The little one with black spots around her eyes isn’t here.

“Shit.”

I pace the fence line, checking for gaps, and find where a fallen branch has pushed the wire down just enough for a determined lamb to squeeze through.

My gut churns. She could have wandered anywhere.

I’m halfway through checking the home paddock when Benji’s pickup truck comes bumping down my driveway. Fuck. Just what I need, Benji witnessing me running around like a headless chook looking for a lost lamb.

He gets out holding what looks like a casserole dish.

“Thought you might appreciate some lunch. Made too much beef stew last night,” he calls over to me.

“Can’t stop right now. Got a lamb missing,” I say tersely.

Instead of taking the hint and leaving, he puts the dish on the hood of his pickup truck. “Which one?”

“The little one. Black spots round her eyes.”

“Pepper?”

At my incredulous look, he shrugs. “What? She looks like someone sprinkled pepper on her face.”

Trust Benji to have named my lamb. Though I have to admit, it fits her.

“How long’s she been gone?” he asks.

“Must’ve gotten out this morning after feeding.”

He’s already striding over to me. “Right, where do you want me to start looking?”

“You don’t need to?—”

“Two sets of eyes are better than one.” He gives me that crooked grin that always makes arguing with him feel pointless. “Besides, I helped bottle feed her last week when you were drafting, remember? Makes me practically a godfather.”

That had been a one-off thing. I’d been running late finishing drafting, and when I arrived back at the home paddock, I’d found Benji contentedly feeding my orphan lambs. I could only imagine the ruckus they’d made when he arrived at my place to drop off his latest casserole.

“Fine,” I growl. “But we need to be systematic about it.”

We work our way through the paddocks in a grid pattern. The spring sun beats down as we walk, making sweat trickle down my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch glimpses of Benji moving through the long grass, his pants getting progressively more damp.

Not that I’m looking.

“Pepper,” Benji calls out.

I snort. “You expect her to come to her name?”

Benji shrugs. “I’ve found my sheep often react to my voice.”

“Next, you’ll be telling me you read them bedtime stories.”

Benji’s face lights up. “That’s not a bad idea.The Three Little Rams.Little Bo Peep: A Cautionary Tale.”

“The Emperor’s New Wool Coat,” I offer in return.

Benji laughs. “Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Stock Agent.”

I can’t help chuckling at that one. Benji tilts his head at the sound of my laughter, giving me a satisfied smile.