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Page 307

| "I see how earnestly they are working," Sasha said, her gaze settling on one man in particular. He was a strapping fellow with a dark beard, whose hands guided the shears over the sheep so quickly that they blurred before her eyes. |

| Ashton's gaze settled on the same man, and he rested his hands on his holstered revolvers. "See that man there?" he said, nodding toward him. "That's Adam Beaumont. That stripling from Sydney can outdo anyone with a pair of hand shears. It's rumored that he's going to try to beat the world shearing record." |

| "Do you mean shearers actually compete in such a way?" Sasha marveled, still watching Adam as he turned away the ragged locks of a sheep, leaving a track of snowy fleece from the brisket to the nose. It was lovely how he could peel off the fleece so smoothly. |

| "In 1802, a shearer created a world record at Alice Downs by shearing three hundred and twenty-one sheep in a day, using hand shears." Ashton said. "I don't doubt that this fellow will break that record." |

| The air filled with dust and lint, and Sasha sneezed as a bit of floating fleece tickled her nose. Her eyes watering, she started for the door. "I must get some fresh air," she said, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "I can't seem to stop sneezing." She laughed softly as she looked through her blurred eyes at Ashton, as he followed her outside. "Here I am, an owner of sheep, and the fleece makes me sneeze." |

| Ashton swept an arm about her waist and swung her around to face him. "Thank God I don't |

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