At two, he gave up on sleeping or even dozing. He got up, dug in his bag and found the Mapquest directions Sandra had emailed to him before he left Raleigh.
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An hour later he turned from a county road into the Golden Palm Bridle Club. A covered riding arena dominated the acreage. Horse trailers of all sizes and colors were parked on the north and south sides of the property, many attached to dual axle diesels. Bob noticed heads turn as he roared down the dirt driveway. A pony started and jerked away from its handler—the girl looked to be about ten years old, her face pink and tense as she tugged the lead rope—so he geared the bike down and rolled to a stop with the engine off.