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you ride?"
    "A little, but I haven't for a long time." Not since Dar's death.
    "How about riding with us sometime?" The question had been casual enough, but the vulnerability hovering in his eyes betrayed how much he'd risked just by asking.
    What kind of stake did he have in her answer? She understood he would like to win her over to his cause, of course, but this was something else: something deeper, more elemental, that touched a surprisingly empathetic chord.
    "That would be all right, I guess. Sometime."
    Pleasure lit his face. "We'll make it soon."
    "I'd better get going," she said. "I have some errands to take care of in town."
    As she turned to go, she heard the horse gallop off in the opposite direction. Something had just changed between them and she didn't know how she felt about that.  
    At just past noon she pulled into the parking lot of the Sheriff's Department headquarters and parked in the area designated for visitors. She'd stopped by Kenny's office to return his file, but when she got to the court house, he was out. Instead of leaving the folder in its sealed manila envelope with a security guard, she decided not to take chances with the sensitive material. She returned it to her knapsack and left knowing she still was not ready to return to her work. Maybe Katti was available for lunch.  
      She looked around at the facility. Topped by radio towers and a satellite dish, headquarters occupied a block of its own. A model of pre-fab banality in beige vinyl siding, it stood bracketed between parking lots that contained more beige in the form of pickups and Jeeps bearing departmental logos. Inside, the monochromatic scene repeated itself with bland precision. She shook her head. No matter what their jurisdiction, most police stations suffered from the same lack of personality.
    She and Katti approached the front desk at the same time. The younger woman gave her a tentative smile. "Good afternoon, Zan."
    "Hi, Katti . Do you have plans for lunch?"
    "Just a brown bag and I can leave it in the fridge for tomorrow." Her smile broadened and fed Zan's own.
    "Any suggestions for where to eat?"
    "Have you been to Maggie's yet?" Katti asked.
    "No."
    "Then you've missed out on the best burger and fries in the jurisdiction."
    They found a table near the center of Maggie's Eatery and sipped coffee while they waited for lunch. Zan glanced around the small restaurant. The worn wooden booths and chairs shone with fresh polish. Blue and white checkered table cloths mirrored the café curtains hung from thick brass rods at the front window.
    "What brings you into town," the younger woman asked.
    "Just some errands."
    "I noticed you're parked behind the newspaper building. So I guess you've met Mike Eagle."
    "Yes."
    "What about Michael Stormwalker? You'd know if you had, of course. He's quite a hunk."
    "I have, but how do you know him?" Zan didn't add that Katti seemed too young to be so aware of a man at least fifteen years her senior.
    Katti shrugged. "Oh, everyone knows him. Or knows about him. He's sort of an . . . icon around here. Has been as long as I can remember."
    "Even after what's happened?" Zan fought to keep the note of skepticism from her voice. "Your people are very forgiving, aren't they?"
    Katti's smile fled. "Not everyone who's been in prison is a bad person. Sometimes they just make mistakes."
    Zan could have kicked herself for her tactlessness. "I'm sorry, Katti . I forgot about your sister."
    Katti nodded. "It's easier to remember when you're watching someone you care about struggle to make a new life for themselves. Folks make allowances for someone famous like Michael Stormwalker. My sister's just an ordinary person and when people feel the way you do, that just makes rebuilding her life more difficult."
      The waitress set down their platters and topped off their coffee cups. A hum of conversation blended with the sounds of food preparation and the rattle of an old fashioned cash register near the