page_181

< previous page | page_181 | next page >

Page 181

| Sasha's breath was taken away when she looked up into the steel-gray eyes of a man who was surely some kind of criminal. He wore a filthy, roughly-sewn garment and moccasins of kangaroo hide. His dark hair was long and tangled, his beard was thick, and a pistol was stuck in his rope belt. He was close enough for Sasha to realize that he smelled like a polecat. |

| "Where's the man of the house?" the man asked, his yellow, jagged teeth showing beneath his thick mustache. |

| The sight of the man and his filthy, leering companions made Sasha quickly forget about her planned outing with Stanford. Looking slowly around the men, her skin crawled with fear, wondering where Ashton wasor at least Crispin. Or Rufus. Or anyone! |

| "What do you want here?" Sasha managed to ask, gulping hard. |

| "I don't waste my time talkin' business with women," the man growled. "Now I don't have all day. Where's your mister?" |

| "I think you're speaking of me?" Ashton said, stepping suddenly from behind the house and moving into the shadows beside Sasha. He snaked an arm protectively around her waist. |

| "Well, now, ain't this a surprise?" the man said, laughing throatily. "If it ain't Lawrence Proffitt. It's a small world, ain't it?" |

| Sasha looked quickly up at Ashton. "Lawrence . . .?" she murmured. |

| "Seems this man has made a mistake," Ashton said, avoiding Sasha's questioning stare. "But I |

< previous page | page_181 | next page >