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nals were written by a Lucy Wynne, right?" |
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She nodded. "Quite an interesting tale. See, she and her" |
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"Father and sister Abby were traveling west on a wagon train," Mike interrupted. "The wagon master was my ancestor Arlen Danziger, and there was an Indian guide named"he turned to Abby"Hanwet?" |
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Mike went on to describe the incidents that Abby had related the night before. Grace appeared more and more disgruntled, as though the wind were being swept right out of her sails. "Well, if you knew all this," she grumbled when Mike was through, "why did you insist that I read these dratted journals right away?" |
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"For corroboration," he said. "Did I describe events mentioned in the books?" |
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"Well, yes. Though there were a lot more interesting things that went on. Like the time" |
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"I'd love to hear all of them, but not now," Mike said. "I've shed any doubts. Really." |
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He looked at Abby. His eyes had lost their former storminess; the gray in them now was the softness of kittens, the caress of a dove's wing. Her heart melted. Certainly she would leave him when she had to. But for now they could be together. They had to be together so she could protect him from whatever triggered her anxiety. |
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With a tremulous smile, she walked across the room and into the haven of his strong, waiting arms. |
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