ࡱ> ~Q@ d[bjbj͘ pdS++++DR+\A+$,,,,---#A%A%A%A%A%A%A$BRDIA ;-- ; ;IA,,^Aw?w?w? ;r,,#Aw? ;#Aw?0w???,+ P}A+}<?@ttA0A?vE>ZvE?vE?-1w?4L6$---IAIA$%Dm? %I DEAL IN HOPE  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author Carolyn R. Scheidies 415 E 15th Kearney, NE 68847-6959 (308) 234-3849 Author's Choice Reviews  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/bookreviews" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/bookreviews  HYPERLINK "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IDealInHope/post?postID=LCy5sdRYUgvobdJdVsXOItBjuFV4auGwm4xkeA_Xwzc3MkvzAdHZHCKvHv1TMUocbyTfat4wZFOHLzX59QeEUmXhWOs" crscheidies@mail2faith.com Subject Line: Hope From hopelessness and despair to healing and hope. "Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all you who hope in the Lord." Psalm 31:24 NKJV . February 2007 Vol. 28 Feel free to pass this newsletter on to those who might be interested. But PLEASE always include the entire newsletter. Thanks. THIS MONTH: New releases, new projects, new challenges. But I couldnt do what I do without the wonderful support system I have. A husband who not only cheers me on, but even reads what I write. (Of course, he always reads my columns since he reads the paper cover to cover.) Kids who have always been proud of mom and grandkids who light up our lives with their anticipation of life. I think of all those who lift me up and know there is no way I can adequately repay all those who encourage me on a regular basis and those whove encouraged and challenged me along the journey. All I know is that I write out of my experience and that begins with love from the very heart of God. Love is not about gifts, but about Gods gift of love to us. Thats what I wish to pass on this Valentines month. May you know His ever increasing love for you. CRS WRITING? Check out my latest writing at I DEAL IN HOPE. This is my contribution to those in love or who want to be: HOW DO I LOVE THEE. Families and/or kids who like to read about real-life adventures in Wyoming may want to take a look at SAGEBRUSH a combination of stories formatted as devotions. Im also beginning a new novella serial starting this month. See THE VALENTINE BRIDE below. Signing Schedule Feb. 10Hastings Books Signing How Do I Love Thee February 13, 07-- Seminar: Telling Your Tale Kearney Women's Club July 7, 2007-Trails & Rails Museum Aug. 12, 2007--Hastings Museum Nebraska Creations Fair book signing Aug/Sept. (date pending) Waldenbooks book signing with Stephanie Whitson =========================== SCHEIDIES WRITES: Articles/Stories VALENTINE BRIDE By Carolyn R. Scheidies 2005, 07 Carolyn R. Scheidies All Rights Reserved CHAPTER ONE Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest. Joshua 1:9 Drawing his dark cape around his blue clad shoulders, Stuart Hutchinson, darted back into the trees. His knee high boots crunched the fall leaves underfoot and he stopped, frozen, in the shadow of an oak tree with a trunk so large it all but hid his tall, athletic frame. Bending over, he groaned softly as his hand on his shoulder came away bloody. Silence blasted in his ears still ringing from the sound of artillery and gun fire. The open meadow behind him ran with the blood, not only of his comrades in arms, but of the graybacks as well, though many of them now wore the uniforms dyed not the standard gray, but brown. The knowledge that the confederate forces were in such desperate straights as to be forced to use butternut extract to dye their homespun uniforms a cinnamon brown should have given him satisfaction. Instead, all he could think about was the hardship of those left in the wake of Sherman's devastation, which would be complete once word of this skirmish got out. He'd seen the orders #5: To corps commanders alone is entrusted the power to destroy mills, houses, cotton-gins, etc.; and for them this general principle is laid down: In districts and neighborhoods where the army is unmolested, no destruction of such property should be permitted; but should guerrillas or bushwhackers molest our march, or should the inhabitants burn bridges, obstruct roads, or otherwise manifest local hostility, then army commanders should order and enforce a devastation more or less relentless, according to the measure of such hostility. And he was part of it. And part of him wanted to curse those who forced brother against brother out of greed and pride and fear and who knows what all. If only Georgia's Governor Brown had accepted Sherman's offer. Maybe then both Georgia and South Carolina might have been spared this deliberate destruction. Already beleaguered, all the governor needed to do was withdraw his troops, reluctantly given in the first place, from the Confederacy. Instead, he merely gave them temporary leave. It was not enough. Not enough for Georgia that now lay in ruins, not enough when Sherman took Savannah in December, and not enough to stop the general from marching on to South Carolina. A grimace crossed Stuart's ruggedly handsome face. He'd been with his commanding officer when Major-General William T. Sherman spoke to Mr. Hill, a citizen of Georgia whose son died fighting for the Confederate army. While giving Mr. Hill permission to obtain the body of his son for burial, he'd also given him a message for the governor. Sherman promised that if the governor of Georgia would withdraw his troops from the army, he'd spare the state. Furthermore, he promised that in their passage across it, they'd confine the troops to the main roads, and pay for all the corn and food needed. The governor did not heed the warning and so began Sherman's relentless march to the sea. The Union army left devastation in its wake. Stuart chafed under his orders, wiped sweat from his forehead. For a moment, the trees and deep underbrush swam before his eyes. "Lord God, I need to reach her. Help me reach her." Absently, his fingers curled about the small, chased gold frame hanging around his neck under his uniform. After the skirmish, he well knew how his commanding officer would take the news. He closed his eyes against the devastation he knew would follow in the wake of such resistance. Why had they chosen to make a stand here and so close to his goal? The heat of the South Carolina afternoon, even in January, made his wool uniform feel like it weighed a ton at least. Or was it him? The air hadn't seemed so warm before his cavalry unit stumbled into a Confederate battery they took, at first to be quaker guns, phony cannons made of logs and black paint. The roar of the gun, the smoke and the all-too-human scream of the dapple gray gelding in front of him as they advanced, quickly convinced them the attack was well planned and all too real. A squirrel scolded him from the thick branches overhead. At the clip-clop of hooves, it darted up the wide trunk into the cover of the few large orange and yellow leaves still clinging to the branches. Grabbing the branch overhead with his good arm, Stuart strained to pull himself into the tree. Stilling a groan as the effort jerked his wounded shoulder, he prayed as he settled onto a high branch and hid in much the same way as the now silent squirrel. His dark eyes searched the area directly beneath for blood--his. A sure give-away sign of his location. He saw none. His wool coat sopped up the blood, staining his short cavalry jacket in an ever widening circle beneath his cape. A ramrod straight soldier in a gray uniform, too smart to have seen much fighting, pranced under him on a surprisingly well-fed bay. Beside him, walked the largest black man Stuart had ever seen. The Confederate officer drawled, "Tom, where you think the Yank got to?" The black man glanced about rather absently, drawing a stunning reprimand. "Come now, Tom. Those eyes of yours don't miss a thing. Don't forget, despite their propaganda, those Yanks aren't your Savior." "No, Sir," came the surprisingly educated reply. "My Savior, He be in my heart." Stuart grinned, then frowned as the officer raised his quirt. The black man straightened, "The mistress won't take kindly ta you striking me, Massa Roberts." The quaint juxta position of educated speech and dialogue gave Stuart the distinct impression the man was anything but subservient. Lowering his whip, Roberts growled, "All right, for her sake. The woman always was too soft. Her northern ties, I'll wager." Clearing his throat, he barked. "He couldn't have gotten far." "Not much to see here." "I could get out the hounds?" "No, not that," Stuart mouthed silently. He shook his head, to clear the dizziness, only to lose his grip. Desperately, he wound his arm around the branch, trying to lodge himself against the tree in case he lost consciousness. Help me, Lord, help me. The rustle of the leaves alerted the men below. Roberts urged his horse from under the branches as though fearing the enemy would fall on him. Tom merely stared up through the branches. "What is it, Tom? What do you see?" The officer wheeled his horse a safe distance away. "If he's up there, get him. We can't afford to let the Federals know we're here." Stuart felt the intensity of Tom's gaze and found himself staring straight into dark, intelligent eyes. He felt the penetrating gaze shift to his shoulder and back again. Tensing, Stuart waited, wondering how long it would take for him to drop out of the tree and take out the men below. His stomach churned at the thought. Then again, he had to reach her. Who knew what danger she might be in? The letter, written in a shaky hand, revealed little but agitation and a plea for help. The horse moved restlessly under his even more restless rider. Stuart felt the rider's anger with the black man who continued to search his face. A moment later, the squirrel on a nearby branch once more began scolding. Tearing his eyes from those of the wounded man, Tom remarked calmly. "You hear it yourself. There's a squirrel up thar. Want me to rock it out of the tree? Make nice eatin' at the big house. "Food, I'd give her plenty if she'd let me." "Ah, Massa, but with the strings. She don't want no strings." This time Tom had no time to duck the sting of the quirt on his broad back. "Impertinent. If you belonged to me..." Tom remained unmoved, though his lips tightened. "I don't. And neither does Miss Sara." "Not yet," the officer ground out. "Come, we must discover him before he gets away." With one quick look of what? Warning or promise? Tom moved off in long strides in the wake of the impatient southern gentleman. Dizzy with loss of blood, Stuart managed to lower himself from the tree, only to slink off into the underbrush. Stuffing material torn from his shirt into the wound, he tried to stop the flow of blood. If only he knew how serious the wound. The mini ball, the soft lead slug that expanded on impact, killed more of his comrades than he wanted to think about. But thinking became increasingly difficult. Wrapping his hand around the frame against his chest, he tried to pray. "Protect her, Lord Jesus. Protect her." His last thought was for her and his failed mission. A petite, slender young woman asked, "Mattee, has your father returned?" Her emerald eyes narrowed with concern as she smoothed down the skirt of her wide gown. "Not yet, Miss Sara." The dark young woman shook her head. Sara Jackson's eyes widened. "You don't suppose he's...." Mattee shook her head. "Of course he's fine. God will take care of him, Miss Sara." "He hasn't done such a good job taking care of his southern children...or your people, Mattee." "Miss Sara, what a thing to say." Rebellion curled the Sara's lips. "You know tis true. You've been beaten down and treated like animals. Like poor Daniel. Thank the Lord, Papa got hold of him before that man beat him to death. Even so, Daniel's been slow ever since." "I know. Your Papa didn't realize how bad it would be for Pa and me when we moved down here. I wish..." Tears started in Mattee's eyes. "Forgive me, Miss Sara, I shouldn't be remindin' you of your dear Papa." Her eyes widened. "But what we gonna do? Mista Roberts he say that man Sherman caint get through our defenses. But he was wrong. And he brought those papers from Georgia." Impatiently, Sara paced the floor of the colonnaded plantation house she called home. "I know, I read them too." Striking a pose, she quoted, "To the people of Georgia, You have now the best opportunity ever yet presented to destroy the enemy. Put every thing at the disposal of our generals, remove all provisions from the path of the invader, and put all obstructions in his path. "Every citizen with his gun, and every Negro with his spade and ax, can do the work of a soldier. You can destroy the enemy by retarding his march. Georgians, be firm! Act promptly, and fear not! B. H. Hill, Senator." Sara snorted. "Fear not? We're in as much danger from our own troops foraging off the land and destroying things in advance of Sherman, as we are from the man himself. Sherman did get through, all the way to Savannah." Doubt sparked in Mattee's eyes. "Mista Roberts says..." "Jedediah says far too much, but you haven't seen him volunteering to ride off into the sunset to protect the Confederacy. No, dear Jed, has stayed pretty close to home." A smiled quirked the dark girl's eyes, "And you." "Please, don't remind me. If only Papa was here." Her eyes snapped with suppressed anxiety. "Where is that boy? I sent Daniel out to look for your father hours ago." She swung about as the front door opened. "Jed, what in the world?" The arrogant man in his gray uniform strode into the room. "My dear Sara, I came as soon as I could." Taking her hand, he bowed smartly, completely ignoring her dark companion, while barking an order at the same time. "Mattee, tea would be nice or something a might stronger." Snatching back her hand, Sara snapped, "Mattee isn't your slave." "Pity that." His survey brought a flush to the darker girl's cheeks. "Enough of that," Sara commanded. "Mattee, maybe the tea, if you please." Jed rolled his eyes. "When you belong to me, I'll teach you to put the cuffees in their place." Sara's lips tightened. "Have you seen Daniel?" "That half-wit boy, I haven't a clue." "What happened out there?" "Nothing you need concern your pretty head over, Sara. We have other things to discuss." "Not now Jed. You know father..." Her heart sank at the mulish light in Jed's eyes. "Your father is gone, dear Sara, and you no longer have to fight his cause." Fear quivered inside. "What do you mean? When Sherman's troops took Atlanta, Papa said then it was but a matter of time." "Was he referring to the fall of the South or his own death?" Jed led the trembling young woman to the large Sheraton couch. "Face the truth, Sara, you're alone now. You need protection, which is what I offer. I want you." Sighing, Sara sank into the cushions. "Oh, Jed. We've been over and over this. Papa had plans for me." "But he died before he revealed those plans, Sara." Jed lowered his voice. Sara always found Jed harder to resist when he was like this. "I know you don't love me, Sara, but that will change. Whatever happens with the Confederacy, I will keep you safe. We could go to California or Brazil. I heard quite a few planters have already left." For a moment, he fought anger. "One of these days we'll take back our land." "What do you mean? The Confederacy is all but gone, there is nothing left. From what I hear, it's just a matter of time before we admit defeat. We fought, and for what--our pride?" Jed clenched his teeth under his smile. "This should please you. Sherman signed a special order to commandeer a 30 mile strip of coastland from Charleston to St. John's River Florida. They're going to chop it up into 40 acre plots for the colored families. As though they'll know how to handle their own land." "Why Jedediah Roberts, who do you think has been tilling your soil and planting, tending and harvesting your crops all these years." "Yes, but I have overseers to make sure they stay on task. You know how lazy the coloreds are." Hands on her hips, Sara faced the stereotypical southern planter. "What posh! That's another excuse for slavery. I know very well how your overseers treat your people since you took over from your uncle. It's disgraceful." As though realizing he lost ground, Jedediah soothed. "You're right, of course. Maybe some of my managers have been too harsh at times, but when I found out, I settled them right down. Why most of our coloreds have stayed on to work the plantation when others lost most of their work force. Would they stay on if we didn't treat them right?" "I don't know. Where would they go? They can't read or write, aren't allowed by law. It's wrong, you know it is." "Dear Sara, that's one of the things I love about you, your passion. But it's a moot point now. Obviously, the Union won't allow slavery. Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation made that clear." "You're all right with that? Whether Carolina or California, it'll be the same, no slavery." It sounded wonderful. What her father worked for most of his adult life was truly coming to pass. "Yes, I know that. But I still have resources, I can start over. Sara, whatever our differences, we'll work them out. They don't matter. What does matter is that I want you. I want to take care of you, protect you. I want to take you away from all this. You belong to me Sara, and I'm used to getting my way." Lifting her chin, he said softly. "Sara, I see the fear in your lovely eyes, and I want more than anything to wipe that fear away." Seeing her weaken, he pressed his point. " Read the rest of Chapter One at  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/stories.html" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/stories.html =========================== SCHEIDIES WRITES: Verses from my new book HOW DO I LOVE THEE. THEY SAY They say love makes the world go round. They say love is powerful and strong. But when They say love is just passion and emotion... They are wrong! For God is love and when passion fades, His love remains true Drawing two hearts together, and Binding me to you. 2007 Carolyn R Scheidies All Rights Reserved TOGETHER A couple snuggles together, In a flower filled meadow soft and green. A picnic lunch on a blanket spread, Completes the romantic country scene. But, love is more than romance, Its the meeting of two hearts, In a faithful loving union From which only death shall part. It is laughing and loving and hugging, Sticking through good and bad times. It is caring and forgiving In a trust that lasts...a lifetime. 2007 Carolyn R Scheidies All Rights Reserved  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/poems.html." http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/poems.html. ========================== LINKS: Like mysteries? Check out  HYPERLINK "http://www.keepmeinsuspense.com" http://www.keepmeinsuspense.com See more links at  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/links.html" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/links.html =========================== AUTHORS: Check  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/forwriters.html" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author/forwriters.html. ============================ CLASSIFIEDS Want to know how to go from writing letters to the editor to features and beyond. You can with this workshop given at CCWC. For $10 you get a download of the workshop as well as the worksheet. If interested email me at  HYPERLINK "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IDealInHope/post?postID=LCy5sdRYUgvobdJdVsXOItBjuFV4auGwm4xkeA_Xwzc3MkvzAdHZHCKvHv1TMUocbyTfat4wZFOHLzX59QeEUmXhWOs" crscheidies@mail2faith.com with the Subject line: Hopeworkshop. Have something to sell or advertise? Space available here. For information email  HYPERLINK "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IDealInHope/post?postID=LCy5sdRYUgvobdJdVsXOItBjuFV4auGwm4xkeA_Xwzc3MkvzAdHZHCKvHv1TMUocbyTfat4wZFOHLzX59QeEUmXhWOs" crscheidies@mail2faith.com Subject line: Hope classifieds FREE Monthly book and movie AUTHOR'S CHOICE REVIEWS NEWSLETTER join at  HYPERLINK "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/authorschoicereviews" http://groups.yahoo.com/group/authorschoicereviews =========================== TO UNSUBSCRIBE: Send an email to  HYPERLINK "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IDealInHope/post?postID=LCy5sdRYUgvobdJdVsXOItBjuFV4auGwm4xkeA_Xwzc3MkvzAdHZHCKvHv1TMUocbyTfat4wZFOHLzX59QeEUmXhWOs" crscheidies@mail2faith.com Subject line: Unsubscribe I Deal in Hope (Cannot do so if received from a loop. If subscribed at the Yahoo loop, unsubscribe at  HYPERLINK "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IDEALINHOPE" http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IDEALINHOPE ) 2007 By Carolyn R. Scheidies All rights Reserved 415 E 15th, Kearney, NE 68847 HYPERLINK "" \l "_From_hopelessness_and_despair_to_he"  I DEAL IN HOPE  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author" \t "_blank" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/author AUTHORS CHOICE REVIEWS  HYPERLINK "http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/bookreviews" http://crscheidies-ivil.tripod.com/bookreviews GHqrst  > ? @ A   D O P ) * ` b c d o p ļļḰh&r hY>*hYh&r>*hYhiS>* h.[>* hm>* h-|>*h-|h-|>*h-|hYh&r6hYhiS6hYhYCJaJhY hiS0JhiSjhiSUhYCJ4aJ4hYhiSCJ4aJ44st  d q r IJgd%pgd-|$a$gdYd[p q r '23IJ[)+68KM')O Q !ü hph{ h{6]h[h{ h{CJh{CJ(aJ(h'w2 hyh'w2 hyh  hyhiS hyhyhiShQh?h80hlh%h-EhAh-|h!N:J6 *+78LMgd[ 1$7$8$H$gd[gd(x 7$8$H$gdy()P Q !!""R$S$;%<%&&L&M& 1$7$8$H$gd[!!""Q$S$:%<%&&&&K&M&''j'l''' ( ((())O)Q)h)j)))))o***B+D+++,,--h.j...u/w/////Y0[00000 1 111~22#3%3333333p4r44444=5?5555566 hafh{hafh{6] h"h{h{h[XM&''k'l''' ( ((())P)Q)i)j)))))**C+D+++,, 1$7$8$H$gd[,--i.j...v/w/////Z0[000 1 11122$3%33333 1$7$8$H$gd[333q4r44444>5?55555668797.8/899::e;f;;; 1$7$8$H$gd[67797-8/899::d;f;;;J<L<}<<$=&=i=k=E>G>>>>> ??$?%?W?Y?????@@,@.@@@@@+A-AAA%B'BBBBBDDFDDDHEJEFFG GhGjGHHJHIIJJJJKKLLPMRMMMMMMMjh(xhiSU h(xhiSh4Z hafh{h[h{V;K<L<~<<%=&=j=k=F>G>>>>> ??X?Y?????@@-@.@@@ 1$7$8$H$gd[@@@,A-AAA&B'BBBBBEDFDDDIEJEFFG GiGjGIHJHII 1$7$8$H$gd[IJJJJKKLLQMRMMMN;NzN{NNNNNNO#O$OLO d 1$7$8$H$gdXJBgd*phdSstdqrIJ6    * + 7 8 L M ()PQRS;<LMkl !!P!Q!i!j!!!!!""C#D###$$%%i&j&&&v'w'''''Z([((( ) )))**$+%+++++++q,r,,,,,>-?-----..8/9/.0/01122e3f333K4L4~44%5&5j5k5F6G66666 77X7Y7777788-8.88888,9-999&:':::::E<F<<<I=J=>>? ?i?j?I@J@AABBBBCCDDQEREEEF;FzF{FFFFFFG#G$GLGbGGGGGGGGH*H+HOH[HwHxHHHHHHH IFIGIbIIIIIJJQQQYRZRiRRRRcSfS000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000@0@0@0@0@0@0@00@00@0x0x0@0@0@0@0@0000000@@0@@0@@0@@0@@0@@0@0@0@@0@@0@@0@0@@0@0@0@0@0@@0@0@0@0000000H0P0000000P0PIJ6  EEF;FzF{FLGbGGGGFIGIbIIIIIJJQQQYRZRiRRRRcSfSg;00g;00g;00g{00g;00g;00g;00lCg;00g;00o;0 0g;00o;0 0g;00o;0 0g;00g;00g;00g;00u}g;00g;00g;00g;00g;00oe;00e;00e;00e;00e;00g;00SR1 SR1 SR1 m;0!m{0)0(m{0/0(m{00@0X@0Xo;00;@0X@0XSR1 p !6MRUZd[.148<?@AJM&,3;@ILOFQd[/235679:;=>d[0Gq>@EEFI JCJJJJJ-KbKKKLMMMPNN OtOOO'PPPdQQQRVRWRiRRRR1S`SdSXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX8@0(  B S  ?IBTBBBBBBTBBBBTBBBBTBBBBTBBBBTBBBBTBBTBTBBԾBBTBBԿBBTBBBBBTBBTBBBBTBBBBBTBTBBBBTBTBBTBBBBBTBBTBBBBccee00==;;((''//$0$000 3 32323Z3Z3[9[9q9q9;; < <=======BBBBBCC R RRRfS      !"#$%&'()*+,-./0123456789:<;=>?@ABCDGEFHkkll77EEBB""//''//+0+000339393b3b3b9b9x9x9<<<<=====>>BBBCCCCRRRRfS  !"#$%&'()*+,-./0123456789:<;=>?@ABCDFGEHBA*urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagscountry-regionn*urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags PostalCode0http://www.5iamas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagsi;*urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagsState0http://www.5iamas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagshH*urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagsCity0http://www.5iamas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagsVI*urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagsplacehttp://www.5iantlavalamp.com/8E*urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttagsdate 1220078DayMonthYearIHIHEIHIAIHIAI;IAIHIHI;IAIHIAIHI;IHIHIAIAIHIHIHIHIHI;IAIHIHIH;IIHIHI;IH;    (','\'a'''**++,,----(/0/`/h///////w333333H6N666177777>>n@v@LLfSr>EZ\|!$($'''' )')();)++r,,G.L.//P5i507W7::K>>??mAAB1CFGGGHH[H^H!IEIKKRRfS333333333333333333333333333333333[cdp  + D#V#r,,,,,-..224466Y7n77788-9C9<<AACCF?@ABDEFGHIJLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ[\]^_`abcdefghijklmopqrstuwxyz{|}Root Entry F !}AData C1TableKvEWordDocumentpSummaryInformation(nDocumentSummaryInformation8vCompObjj  FMicrosoft Word Document MSWordDocWord.Document.89q