I've always loved the idea of Vin Tanner and Martin Fitzgerald being the same person. I was recently rereading the great stories that have been written about such a scenario by others, and I suddenly wondered: what if Vin/Martin had kept his horse?

Nobody enjoyed working on a Sunday when they'd expected to have a weekend off after a successful case closed. But law enforcement was often a far cry from the usual office hours, and Danny had known that when he'd signed up for the job.

"We're meeting in Wappingers Falls. The locals found something regarding the Madison case," Jack told him, and it sounded like he was already in a car and on his way. "Can you call in Martin? Sam is in Florida, and Vivian is visiting family."

Danny nodded, although Jack wouldn't see it. "Sure, no problem. We'll meet you up there."

"Thanks."

It took him two tries to get through to Martin on his cell phone.

"What's up?" He sounded resigned, probably the way Danny had been when he'd seen Jack's name on the display of his phone.

"Jack needs us to come in."

There was a small sigh on the other end.

"It's Sunday!"

"Yes, and we have a new development in the Madison case." That apparently caught Martin's attention. There was a sound in the background, but Danny couldn't place it.

"Where are you? Home? I'll pick you up." Danny offered.

"No, I'm not at home," Martin replied, and this time Danny thought he could hear something like a neighing horse.

He frowned. "Is that... is that a horse?"

"I'm at a stable in the Bronx."

"A stable?!" That was certainly unusual. "Whatever, that's even better. We're heading up to Dutchess County. Give me the address."

Danny wasn't an expert, but there weren't many stables in the City area, so Martin was probably somewhere on the road to where they needed to go anyway.

If Danny hadn't expected Martin to be waiting for him, he almost wouldn't have recognized him. Martin wasn't in fancy riding clothes like what Danny sometimes saw on TV. Instead, he was wearing an old leather jacket with so many visible creases and a few stains that apparently would never come out that most people would have thrown it away by now. Certainly Danny would have expected someone with Martin's family background and salary to throw it away. That he hadn't indicated that it had some sentimental value for him.

Martin climbed into the passenger seat and stretched out his legs, clad in jeans slightly less worn than his jacket, and cowboy boots that Danny had to look at twice to confirm what he was seeing.

Danny sniffed. Yep, Martin smelled like horse. "You going on pony rides?"

Martin didn't carry a helmet, which either meant that he left it at the stables, or he was confident (or stupid) enough that he rode without one.

"Not exactly." Martin didn't elaborate.

"Doesn't look like they do polo here, although the golf course is pretty close. Did you take the wrong turn?" Danny tried to needle him.

"Nope."

The stables were close to the Hutchinson River Parkway, and thankfully Danny didn't have to dodge too many stupid drivers to get there. Finally, Martin said:

"My horse is stabled here."

"You have a horse?"

"I just said so, didn't I?" He shot Danny an amused look.

"Just wouldn't have thought of you as a horseman. Or having any animals, I suppose." He gave him a sideway glance and corrected himself. "Except maybe dogs. Bulldogs." That's what people like the Fitzgeralds would have as a pet, right?

Martin chuckled. "Sorry to ruin your image of me."

There was more to the man than Danny had seen - or assumed - so far. All right. He could shift his world view a bit.

"You don't ride English either," he guessed.

Danny had never been interested in horses; he'd certainly never been on one. But he knew a few things about them, like that they were big and had a mean kick, and that people either rode English or Western. The cowboy boots hinted at the latter, although before today, if Danny had known that Martin rode, he would have pecked him as riding English.

Martin raised an eyebrow at him. "Nope. Western."

Again with the short answers. That man apparently liked his mysteries, but Danny liked nothing better than uncovering mystery.

"Interesting. You ever going to introduce us?" He asked.

"Who?"

"Me. To your horse."

Martin laughed briefly, unrestrained like he rarely seemed to. "You've probably never even seen that side of the Bronx, let alone the stable. You sure you can handle a horse?"

"If you tell it to be nice. Him. Or is it a her?"

"It's a him. Name's Peso." Martin smiled a bit. He was attached to it then.

"How long have you had him?"

"Years. Originally bought him in Denver where Chris-" he hesitated a bit, then went on as if it was nothing. "A friend of mine had a ranch and a few horses. I bought Peso when I saw him and kept him at his ranch."

"I didn't know you used to live in Denver. Your file doesn't mention that."

Martin raised an eyebrow at him. "And how do you know what my personnel file says?"

"I might have seen it." Danny shrugged. "In passing. On Jack's desk when he was looking at candidates. Denver is a long way for a horse."

"Yeah," Martin said, and he looked out the window with a regretful look. "And pastures here ain't much compared to Colorado." There was a different melody to his words than usual; not the refined sound Danny associated with New England, Ivy League and 'upper class'. "Maybe I should have left him there."

And it was gone again, the words pronounced with more care and none of the strangeness Danny had thought he'd heard before.

Danny looked over at him again, but Martin was still turned away, gazing out the passenger window.

"How was Colorado?"

"It was home. I miss it like an arm."

"You can always go back for vacation. Go skiing and see old friends."

"Maybe."

But he sounded like someone who knew that he could never go back.

The stable in the Bronx does exist (as does the golf course), but I don't know it personally and don't intend to advertise for it.

Thank you for reading! Reviews are always welcome.