The Cossack Cowboy. Lester S. Taube

      He didn’t notice the man until he heard a voice at his side. “Mr. Sanderson?”

      He had to conceal his reaction to his first sight of the man. He had probably been six feet tall at one time, but he was bent over from a deformity or accident to almost six inches less. His face was marred by deep scars, and his hands were turned inward, as if the wrists had been broken and not set properly. His age would be in the late forties, decided Paul, although his hair was already completely grey.