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Page 213

| But no, he avoided any comments at all about the scarand his past which did not include her. Just how much of it had included Stanford Sidwell? It was too obvious that these two men hated each other with a vengeance! |

| "Over here," Rufus said, guiding everyone to a small, fenced-off area in which stood the infected sheep. "Take a look. The wool is ruined. I'd say kill them all or take a chance on it spreading. From all I've heard about the scab, it is practically incurable." |

| Sasha's heart went out to the pitiful-looking, timid sheep that looked up at her with their dark, trusting eyes. She could hardly bear to think that they would have to be slain, yet she understood why it was necessary. Through their fleece she could see thick, crusty scabs on their bodies, some worse than the others. Their fleece was matted and ugly, and sparse where the scabs were the most prominent. |

| "How terrible," Sasha said, sighing. |

| "Well, I've seen enough," Ashton said, after a close examination. He began shoving the sheep in separate directions. "This one must go," he said. "We'll do what we can about this one." |

| When Ashton had made his final decisions, five of the sheep had been given the death sentence. |

| "Do you want me to do it?" Crispin asked, jerking a revolver from his gunbelt. |

| Ashton glanced over at Sasha. "I told you it wouldn't be pretty," he said. "Do you still want to stay?" |

| Sasha swallowed hard, then turned without saying anything and fled back to the house. She covered her ears with her hands when the shots rang out. |

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