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Page 320

| bodies strained hungrily together, all velvet and fire. . . . |

| Deep in the shadows where the moonlight could not touch him, Stanford Sidwell rode through the forest with his men, never far enough from the paddlewheeler to lose sight of it through the thick brush and twisting willows. Wheeling his horse to a halt, he turned and faced his men as they edged up around him in a circle. |

| "You know what we must do now," he said, his voice soft, yet threatening. "You've been instructed, so get on with you. We've got to make sure Ashton York will have the surprise of his life at the break of dawn. We want to catch everyone on that paddlewheeler offguard. But don't kill Ashton. Just make sure we get all of his bales of wool from the hold of the ship. We've got to make Ashton see the senselessness of going on with his life as a grazier. I want to see him leave it all behind like a dog leaving a fight with its tail tucked between its legs." |

| He cleared his throat. "Now it's understood that Ashton shouldn't see me," he said, searching the faces of his men for this understanding. "I'll be close by enjoyin' his humiliation." He doubled a fist at his side. "But still, remember, it's of the utmost importance that no matter what happens, Ashton York must come out of this fracas alive!" |

| He waved his fist in the air. "Now get goin'!" he commanded. "Get way ahead of that paddlewheeler then get to work cuttin' them damn trees!" |

| The men rode away, Stanford behind them. He laughed throatily. The men still did not understand his motivation. But because they were getting wages |

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