Michael Palmer: The First Patient

"Beautiful," Uretsky murmured, "just beautiful. I have never been anyplace like this. Not even in Russia."

"I told you," Gabe said, turning Condor with the most subtle of movements. "I'm really glad you finally agreed to come out."

"Both of us are," Alison added. "Honey, is it time yet?"

"Not quite. We can still make it to Wizard's Ridge by ten."

The three horses walked easily away from the house and out along a trail marked only by a few tracks.

"What is so special about this Wizard's Ridge?" Uretsky asked.

"Nothing… and everything. I named it because, well, you'll see. The bread is in your saddlebag?"

"And butter and jam if they are not already frozen solid."

"Mmmm. I love fresh-baked bread," Alison said.

"You are going to have five whole days of it. I plan to bake a different kind of loaf each morning I am here, plus some other goodies."

"Wonderful."

At five minutes of ten they rode up a gentle slope and stopped on Wizard's Ridge. Beyond them, mile after mile of white-coated desert stretched out to the mountains.

"Remarkable," Alison said. "Doc, I really love it here. And in case I haven't told you enough times today, I really love you, too."

"And I love you," Gabe said, still amazed at how easily the words came out. " Leon, I told you after I left Washington last summer, you'd be welcome out to the ranch anytime. Now, here you are. I'm especially happy to be sharing all this with you of all people. Next time, bring that woman you've started seeing, if she wants to come."

"Dolores? Perhaps. I think she would like it here. You know, the better I get to know you, the happier I am that I didn't kill you."

"I'm glad you didn't kill me, too, my friend. The loss of the prison bakery at MCI Hagerstown, where you would have ended up, is our gain. Okay, everyone, it's ten o'clock on the dot. How about we break some fresh bread together."

The three passed a soft, oval loaf, one to the next, each ripping off a healthy chunk.

Seventeen hundred miles away, the Bible was being presented and the hand was being set upon it. The throng who had braved the chilly January day to witness history held their breath as loudspeakers sent out the words and the voice they had come to hear.

"I, Andrew Joseph Stoddard, do solemnly affirm that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."

"Pass the jam, Leon, will you?" Gabe said.

Michael Palmer M.D, practices addiction medicine in Massachusetts, where he is currently at work on his eleventh novel.