don't know. I could probably manage to become a slob as well as anyone."
"No. You'd either end up moping or you'd be fussing for something to do. That's the problem with you Yankees, you've never learned how to relax. The minute you don't have something to occupy every minute of your time, you start to brood."
"Are we back to that again?" Gabe rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I told you, I'm not brooding. I was just thinking."
"What about?"
"About the fact that I've been a cop for twelve years now."
"And a good one," Annie put in, nudging his knee with the toe of her pump.
"Twelve years and I don't see any difference out there. We're still arresting the same people for the same things. So what have I spent twelve years doing?"
"You've spent it being a damn good cop. You put away a few bad guys, helped a lot of people and made a difference in their lives."
"Yeah, right. I made a big difference in Danny Androte's life." He broke off, the words surprising him. He hadn't even been thinking about the old shooting. He'd thought he'd come to terms with it a long time ago.
"You stop that right now," Annie told him sternly. "That boy had a gun and he'd already shot a woman and was fixin' to shoot you. You did what you had to do."
"So the psychiatrist told me. But the psychiatrist wasn't the one who killed a sixteen-year-old kid." Memories darkened his eyes to muddy green. He shook his head. "Sixteen years old, Annie. He should have been playing basketball somewhere, not robbing a liquor store."
"You didn't put him where he was. He was the one who made the choice to rob that store. Would you be happier if he' d killed you? "
"Of course not." Gabe shoved back from the desk and stood up, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "The point is that he's dead.''
"And you're not," Annie reminded him pragmatically. "You did the only thing you could."
"Maybe. I don't even know what made me think of that." Gabe stared down at his desk, the shooting flickering through his mind in stiff, jerky images, like a badly wound tape. He shook his head, dismissing the memories. "I got a letter from my dad yesterday."
"He still want you to come to Wyoming and play cowboy?"
"Yeah. The ranch is doing fairly well but he'd like to expand. Says he's getting too old to handle it on his own."
"You thinkin' about going?" Annie asked, watching his face.
"No. Not really." But his eyes weren't as sure as his words. He shrugged. "I haven't been on a horse since my last pony ride at the L.A. Fair when I was eight. Can you see me on a horse?"
"I think you'd look real cute. Sorta like a poor gal's John Travolta."
"You mean John Wayne?"
"No, I mean John Travolta. Sorta Urban Cowboy goes to Wyoming,'*' she suggested with a grin.
"Thanks. If you're going to be insulting, you can get off my desk."
"Whatever you say, Gabriel." Annie slid off the desk with easy grace. "But if you were thinking about joining your daddy, I'd be the first to wish you well."
"Trying to get rid of me?" Gabe asked with a half smile.
"No. I'd just like to see a little sparkle in those nice eyes of yours. 'Sides, it might be kind of fun to break in a new partner. Get a little new blood in here." Annie's teasing smile didn't hide the concern in her eyes.
Gabe watched her leave the room, his thoughts a couple of thousand miles away. He'd only visited his father's ranch once in the five years since he'd bought it. But the wide-open spaces and the vast expanse of sky had lingered in his mind, like a glimpse of heaven.
On days when the city seemed as close to hell as he could imagine, he'd think about the deep silence of the ranch...the sharp scent of sagebrush when you brushed against it.
The phone on his desk jangled, shaking him out of his thoughts. He shook his head and reached for it. He must be going through an early mid-life crisis. He couldn't be seriously thinking about giving up his career and moving to Wyoming. It was just a phase he was going through. In a
"No. You'd either end up moping or you'd be fussing for something to do. That's the problem with you Yankees, you've never learned how to relax. The minute you don't have something to occupy every minute of your time, you start to brood."
"Are we back to that again?" Gabe rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I told you, I'm not brooding. I was just thinking."
"What about?"
"About the fact that I've been a cop for twelve years now."
"And a good one," Annie put in, nudging his knee with the toe of her pump.
"Twelve years and I don't see any difference out there. We're still arresting the same people for the same things. So what have I spent twelve years doing?"
"You've spent it being a damn good cop. You put away a few bad guys, helped a lot of people and made a difference in their lives."
"Yeah, right. I made a big difference in Danny Androte's life." He broke off, the words surprising him. He hadn't even been thinking about the old shooting. He'd thought he'd come to terms with it a long time ago.
"You stop that right now," Annie told him sternly. "That boy had a gun and he'd already shot a woman and was fixin' to shoot you. You did what you had to do."
"So the psychiatrist told me. But the psychiatrist wasn't the one who killed a sixteen-year-old kid." Memories darkened his eyes to muddy green. He shook his head. "Sixteen years old, Annie. He should have been playing basketball somewhere, not robbing a liquor store."
"You didn't put him where he was. He was the one who made the choice to rob that store. Would you be happier if he' d killed you? "
"Of course not." Gabe shoved back from the desk and stood up, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "The point is that he's dead.''
"And you're not," Annie reminded him pragmatically. "You did the only thing you could."
"Maybe. I don't even know what made me think of that." Gabe stared down at his desk, the shooting flickering through his mind in stiff, jerky images, like a badly wound tape. He shook his head, dismissing the memories. "I got a letter from my dad yesterday."
"He still want you to come to Wyoming and play cowboy?"
"Yeah. The ranch is doing fairly well but he'd like to expand. Says he's getting too old to handle it on his own."
"You thinkin' about going?" Annie asked, watching his face.
"No. Not really." But his eyes weren't as sure as his words. He shrugged. "I haven't been on a horse since my last pony ride at the L.A. Fair when I was eight. Can you see me on a horse?"
"I think you'd look real cute. Sorta like a poor gal's John Travolta."
"You mean John Wayne?"
"No, I mean John Travolta. Sorta Urban Cowboy goes to Wyoming,'*' she suggested with a grin.
"Thanks. If you're going to be insulting, you can get off my desk."
"Whatever you say, Gabriel." Annie slid off the desk with easy grace. "But if you were thinking about joining your daddy, I'd be the first to wish you well."
"Trying to get rid of me?" Gabe asked with a half smile.
"No. I'd just like to see a little sparkle in those nice eyes of yours. 'Sides, it might be kind of fun to break in a new partner. Get a little new blood in here." Annie's teasing smile didn't hide the concern in her eyes.
Gabe watched her leave the room, his thoughts a couple of thousand miles away. He'd only visited his father's ranch once in the five years since he'd bought it. But the wide-open spaces and the vast expanse of sky had lingered in his mind, like a glimpse of heaven.
On days when the city seemed as close to hell as he could imagine, he'd think about the deep silence of the ranch...the sharp scent of sagebrush when you brushed against it.
The phone on his desk jangled, shaking him out of his thoughts. He shook his head and reached for it. He must be going through an early mid-life crisis. He couldn't be seriously thinking about giving up his career and moving to Wyoming. It was just a phase he was going through. In a
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