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Page 52
The men were nearly upon them. Thorn had his rifle back. He could leave her here, and . . .
No, he couldn't. Despite all reason, he could not ignore her plight. He was about to aim the rifle at the men when the woman, unaware of his intentions, said in obvious desperation, "I'll pay you."
"How much?" He was curious, although it made no difference.
"Whatever you want."
"Hey!" The two men burst through the last trees sheltering Thorn and Mariah from their sight. They stopped for a moment, staring at him in surprise.
He, too, was surprised. They were bedraggled and nearly as drenched as the woman, but both were well dressed, apparently gentlemen.
But he knew far better than to be deceived by appearances. He swung up the rifle, pointing it in their direction and supporting its barrel with his left hand.
"Keep out of this, mister," said the older, larger of the two. He looked even more furious than his youthful companion.
"Certainly," Thorn said, aiming at the speaker. "I have no quarrel with you. If the lady wishes to accompany you, then you may all three be on your way."
"I've no intention of going with them," the woman said, defiant despite the frightened quaver in her voice. He glanced down over the side of the rifle barrel. She stared at him as though unsure whether he would cede her to these ruffians, her green eyes fearful, her moist lips parted in what looked like supplication.
Her look stirred something else long dormant deep inside him: a sense of protectiveness. Of caring what happened to another human being.
Foolhardy. He knew it. But he had made his decision. He sighted toward the men.
"Now, look, mister," the younger one whined. "This woman made an agreement with us for her passage. She was to come along with us to a trading post downriver, where

 
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