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Page 239

| Sasha looked up at Stanford. She set her jaw and squared her shoulders stubbornly. "I presume that you would have no reason not to let me go to the bunkhouse and see her," she said. "It is rather nice to have a woman in these parts to have conversation with." |

| Stanford laughed at that. "You call her a woman?" he said. "I call her a whore." He thrust his hands uneasily inside his front breeches pockets. "Why would a woman of your breeding want anything to do with the likes of Bianca, anyhow?" |

| "I do not set myself above anyone," Sasha said, anger flaring in her eyes. "Now if you will excuse me I shall show myself to the bunkhouse and see Bianca. I see no need to await your permission." |

| Stanford swung around in front of Sasha, blocking her way and stopping her as she boldly moved toward the bunkhouse. "She ain't in the bunkhouse," he said. |

| Surprised, Sasha stared up at him. "Then . . . where is she?" she murmured. "She told me that she was married to one of your sheepherders. I see no other cabins, so that must mean that she shares the bunkhouse with not only her husband, butbut also the rest of your hired hands." |

| The sky was darkening overhead. Thunderheads were billowing along the horizon in deep grays against the velvety black heavens. Lightning forked incessantly across the sky, and the ground shook threateningly beneath Sasha's feet, unnerving her even more. She feared her return journey across the river. If the rain wetted the jut of clay that she had |

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