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Page 212

| stubbornly. "But as I see it, it is my responsibility to be taught every procedure used on this sheep station, be it pleasant or ugly." |

| Taking the hem of her skirt up into her arms, she walked determinedly toward the sheep. "Are you coming?" she said over her shoulder. "Time's a wastin'." |

| Ashton shook his head, but could not help smiling at Sasha's courage and fortitude. More than any woman he had ever known, Sasha had the strength of mind that enabled her to meet danger or bear the pain of adversity with courage. She was a woman of grit, backbone, pluck! |

| "All right, if you insist," Ashton said, following Sasha. He motioned for Crispin and Rufus. "Take us to the sick sheep. Let's hope we don't have to kill many of them." |

| "There ain't no question about ten of them," Crispin said, falling into step beside Ashton. "No amount of treatment will help them." |

| "I still smell something foul here," Ashton grumbled. "And the stench comes to me from Stanford Sidwell. That bastard. Why couldn't he have rotted in prison?" |

| Sasha's eyes widened. "Prison?" she said quickly. "How would you know about his being in prison?" |

| "Sweet darlin', it's not a guarded secret," Ashton said, giving Sasha a harried look. |

| "Oh, I see," Sasha said faintly, her gaze settling on Ashton's scar. If anyone kept secrets about himself, it was most certainly Ashton York. Why didn't he just tell her that he had gotten the wound as a child? It would be so simple to say something as innocent as that to put her mind at ease. |

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