Fifty feet away, still in the saddle, Gabe Singleton calmed his horse with a few pats behind the ear. The mid-morning appearance of a Secret Service agent at the Ambrose Regional Medical Center had given Gabe warning that the presidential drop-in was going to take place, but the man hadn't been specific about the time and, following an exhausting all-nighter caring for two patients in the ICU, even a visitor of this magnitude couldn't keep Gabe from his customary ride out into the desert and back.

"Hey, cowboy," President Andrew Stoddard called out, descending the stairs and sincerely saluting the lone Marine as he passed, "whattaya say?"

"I say you and your choppers scared the crap out of this world-weary old nag. . . . Frightened my horse, too."

The two men shook hands, then embraced. Stoddard, who Gabe felt looked presidential even when they were first-year roommates at the Naval Academy, showed the stress of three and a half years in office. Silver highlighted his razor-cut dark brown hair, and deep crow's-feet had appeared at the corners of his iridescent blue eyes. Still, he was every bit the man in charge—the decorated Desert Storm pilot and former governor of North Carolina, whose star had been on the ascendancy since the day he took his first privileged breath.

"One of the downsides of the job," Stoddard said, gesturing toward his entourage. "Twin helicopters so that any whacko who decides to take a bazooka shot at one of them has only a fifty-fifty chance of blowing me away, Secret Service studs checking out every inch that's gonna be stepped on by these size elevens and every toilet seat that's gonna be graced by these presidential cheeks, plus a medical team trained to know that it's not if something terrible happens to their boss, it's when."

"If you're looking to make a job change, I could use a wrangler on my ranch."

"How many do you have working for you now?" Stoddard asked, glancing about.

"You would be the first. I'm afraid our benefits package is a little thin, too, starting with that you'd have to pay me to work here."

"Hey, put me on the list. I don't know if you follow the polls or not, but I haven't got a hell of a lot of job security at the moment. Got some time to talk with an old pal?"

"If you'll let me put my other old pal Condor, here, in the stables."

"Fine-looking horse."

"And that's a fine-looking pooch. Liberty, right?" Gabe patted the dog's rock-solid flank.

"Good memory," Stoddard said. "Liberty's making quite a name for himself, tagging along with me and changing people's misperceptions about pit bulls, just like we're changing people's misconceptions about America. I've had dogs all my life, Gabe, but Liberty, here, is the best. Strong as a tiger, wise as an owl, and as gentle and dependable as that horse of yours."

"Maybe you should have named him Simile."