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and laced boots. Milling together, the group exuded the pungent odor of sweat on unwashed bodies. Abby had barely noticed before, but after enjoying twentieth-century hygiene, she had to rub the base of her nose to keep from wrinkling it in distaste. |
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Nearly everyone was cordial, even the previously unkind Jem and Cora Woolcott. However, Emmaline Woolcott, her wide, flirty eyes now suspicious and cool, asked questions all must have been thinking. "How on earth did you catch up with us? We thought you were lost way back in the desert." |
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Abby shook her head. "I wish I knew. I was injured." |
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She smiled in relief as Hunwet slid through the milling crowd, his coal black eyes grave yet welcoming. The Indian guide was dressed, as always, like the other men in the party. His dark, straight hair was longer than Mike's had been in the future. "It does not matter how you returned, Abby. We are pleased you succeeded." |
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As with Hannah in the future, she knew she would find a sympathetic ear in Hunwet. But at this moment, her anguish about all she had lost was too raw to share. Perhaps she could never share it. |
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For now she would merely keep her eye on Arlen. |
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Arlen! She had been so excited about seeing her family that she had not looked for the man who was the reason for her return. Dread suddenly shot icy tendrils through her. Keeping her |
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