page_90

< previous page | page_90 | next page >

Page 90

| He would have forced her to leave by gunpoint. |

| Perhaps she should have forced his hand and let him shoot her. Surely she would be better off dead. |

| She lay a hand on her abdomen. But what of the child? Could there ever be a future for her unborn child? She would search for a way. Until the day she died, she would strive for a happy future for her child! |

| Stanford sat down beside the fire again and lit a cigar. As the smoke spiraled up into his eyes he became lost in thoughts of another time, another place. He had tried many sorts of entertaining careers in his lifetime, most of which had had a part in landing him in prison. But he had paid his dues and had walked away from the prison a smarter man. It had not taken him long to dig up enough nuggets in the goldfields to buy fancy clothes, a horse, weapons, and enough men to ride with him for the meager wages that it had taken to supply them with enough ale to last them for a month of Sundays in the outback. They made him look legitimate. They didn't know that their usefulness would run out once he was led by Ashton to a chest that far exceeded any amount of gold that could be found in a year's diggings! |

| A smug smile curled Stanford's lips. "But first things first," he whispered to himself. "I learned the art of patience well while in prison. And so shall I practice it a while longer." |

| He leaned back and rested on an elbow, giving Bianca a sly wink. "My dear Bianca, if only you knew what had truly brought me to the outback," he said, taking on a faraway look. "If you only knew." |

< previous page | page_90 | next page >