Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) - Plot & Excerpts
He tensed, even in his sleep, preparing to meet an old adversary he’d never conquered. Don’t do this to yourself. Wake up. But he was already lost to it. He was cantering a white mare bareback down a long dirt road. They covered the miles with no sound of hoofbeats to break up the oppressive silence. No breeze. Sweat beaded on Tony’s forehead. Torn between loving and hating the memory, all he could do was hold on. The violet-blue sky pressed down, as familiar to him as the decrepit ranch he was riding to. As she always did, the mare headed for the crumbling farmhouse at the top of the hill. No amount of reining her in would turn the mare from her course. Try as he did, each time he took this ride he was incapable of leaping off. No, the horse always took him back to the one place he hated. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in an old round pen with the mare.
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