Then without any particular rudeness he pushed
her back from the door, into the cabin, and stepped across the threshold.
"How dare--you!" cried Carley. A hot anger that stirred in her seemed to be
beaten down and smothered by a cold shaking internal commotion, threatening
collapse. This man loomed over her, huge, somehow monstrous in his brawny
uncouth presence. And his knowing smile, and the hard, glinting twinkle of
his light eyes, devilishly intelligent and keen, in no wise lessened the
sheer brutal force of him physically. Sight of his bulk was enough to
terrorize Carley.
"Me! Aw, I'm a darin' hombre an' a devil with the wimmin," he said, with a
guffaw.
Carley could not collect her wits. The instant of his pushing her back into
the cabin and following her had shocked her and almost paralyzed her will.
If she saw him now any the less fearful she could not so quickly rally her
reason to any advantage.
"Let me out of here," she demanded.
"Nope. I'm a-goin' to make a little love to you," he said, and he reached
for her with great hairy hands.
Carley saw in them the strength that had so easily swung the sheep. She
saw, too, that they were dirty, greasy hands. And they made her flesh
creep.
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