“It was past dark when I reached the city and I’d mostly shoved my ghosts back into their graves. I let the gray mare pick her own pace and browse in the grain fields along the way.” — Deborah Wheeler Copy Share Image
“Stung, I lifted my eyes to his and saw them as if for the first time. Eyes the color of rain, soft as dew… — Deborah Wheeler Copy Share Image
“He stared at Esmelda with a face like glass, nothing hidden. What I saw there wasn’t steel or fire or stone. Feelings stirred in… — Deborah Wheeler Copy Share Image
“It was past dark when I reached the city and I’d mostly shoved my ghosts back into their graves. I let the gray mare… — Deborah Wheeler Copy Share Image
