He pressed his nose against it, smelled her Evening in Paris perfume and the lingering scents of thousands of meals. Then he folded it carefully and tucked it into his saddlebag. Memories safely stowed, he went back into the living room and saluted the autographed picture of John Wayne. He started to walk away, then changed his mind and put the picture into his saddlebag, right next to Abby’s apron.“Nothing to stay here for no more.”Blue Four, standing sentinel by his left heel, cocked his head quizzically.“Now that Abby’s dead, the bank can have it all and we don’t care, do we, Blue?”Hearing his name, the dog grinned.Abby had had such a hard time dying that only the guard catching Gabe trying to sneak his rifle into the hospital had kept him from putting her down like he’d do to any grievously suffering animal. And she was his wife, for God’s sake, his one dear thing in all this world. Later that day, after he’d promised not to do anything stupid, he pushed the IV stand aside and crawled into the bed with her despite the guard’s disapproving glare.“That’s my good girl,”
