“Who cares? As long as the man does what he is paid to do, he can come from Timbuktu, as far as I am concerned.”My dad was always grumpy, but I lo...ed him to death. He treated me and my brother as equals. When he taught my brother to work a tractor, I learned too. When he was taught to shoot, I got lessons as well. When my mother taught me how to fix a sock, or sew a button, so did my brother. I guess I was a bit of a tomboy in that sense. But don’t take me wrong, I loved to dress up in short. I got my britches and boots back on and crossed the stableyard to the back door, hitching on my heavy belt. The door gave to my shoulder, and I hurried up the back stairs and down the hall to the room where the wails and weeping were coming from. Someone was using a whip on human flesh from the sound of it.Just as I got there, the door was flung open and a young woman in a frilly nightgown was thrust into the hall followed by a naked man carried a half-shuttered lamp and a leather quirt. The. More

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