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To the world he was about to meet, he was a runaway Indian or a criminal, but desperate people do desperate things. If he succeeded, the world was his; if not, they would never look for his body.
At the turn of the century, Talon had one round of ammunition, two good horses, and little else. He was nineteen years old and life as he knew it had come to a close. A thousand miles away lay the only thing that looked like a future to him.
He had inherited a strange cabin in a rich land. A cabin whose reputation had always been that people went in but they never came out. He wasn't sure about all that, but he was sure that if he lived through the journey to get there it was his.
“JR had a morbid sort of disgusted look on what was left of his face. Talon could only see his head from where he was. The rest was only a dark shadow in the willows by the spring.”
“All he could recall was that they were of the clothes and mostly of Lacey. She was a very real problem. He had to find a way around the feelings that were beginning to eat at him. The truth was that she was beautiful. It was her hair that kept him from sleep he realized. Admit it or not, it was something to see. It made him want to run his hands through it, like spun gold. He realized that she used it to her advantage even in his dreams.”
“His eyes went from staring at the fire to suddenly looking up at Talon. They were wide with fear and stared directly into Talon’s. ‘It was calling me to come in.’ He said earnestly. ‘I wanted to run but the spirits had hold of my feet and they would not move. I was about to call out to the Great Spirit when the house spoke again. It was a tortured sounding, long moan, like the moan of a man who could no longer speak. ‘As it moaned, its breath blew cold again against my feet.’”