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Page 235

| It was hard to envision Stanford in such a setting. He was always well-dressed and dignified appearingmost likely a deliberate attempt to mislead those who did not know the full truth about him. |

| Inhaling a deep, nervous breath, Sasha traveled onward. |

| Taking an armload of dishes from the kitchen table to the washpan that stood on a wobbly stand across from the fireplace, Bianca cowered as Stanford made a move toward her. The previous night had been one of pain and humiliationand worry about her unborn child. Now that Stanford knew she was pregnant, his fondness for inflicting pain on her while forcing himself upon her sexually had worsened. He was obviously trying to make her go into early labor so that she would lose her child. |

| The sound of a horse approaching outside was Bianca's reprieve this morning. It was the hour that most of Stanford's hired hands were still in the bunkhouse sleeping off their drunken stupors of the night before. The fact that Stanford called this place cut out of the outback a sheep station was a joke, to say the least. The men he had brought with him were for the most part retired bushrangers or lazy, shiftless tramps taken from the streets of Melbourne for low wages, if any at all. A bottle of whiskey seemed to be enough for them in the way of pay. |

| "Who the hell is that?" Stanford grumbled, fastening his sheathed knife at his waist. He went to the window and drew aside its sheepskin covering, taken aback when he discovered Sasha reining in her horse in front of the cabin. |

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