Free Lorraine Heath by Always To Remember

elbows. She could hear the rasping more clearly. Quietly, she sat up and peered over the side of the wagon. She couldn’t see any creature, but the scratching grew louder. She looked toward the fire.
    Sitting with his back against the tree, one knee raised, one leg stretched out before him, Clay scraped a piece of wood with a small knife. The wind toyed gently with the brown locks covering his bowed head. The rifle rested by his side.
    “What are you making?” she asked.
    “Damn!” Poking his finger between his lips, Clay glared at her. He removed his finger from his mouth and pressed it against his thigh. “Don’t ever do that when I’ve got tools in my hands.”
    “Don’t ever do what?” she asked innocently. “Scare me like that.”
    “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten you scare easily.”
    “And I’d forgotten you have such a sharp tongue.” He plowed his other hand through his hair. “I don’t know why the hell I agreed to this.”
    “I didn’t give you a choice.”
    “A man always has a choice, Mrs. Warner.”
    “And you chose to be a coward.”
    “I chose to follow my conscience.”
    “Same difference.”
    “I don’t think so. Neither did your husband.”
    “It’s not fair to besmirch his character when he’s not here to defend himself. Don’t you think he would have told me if he didn’t think you were a coward?”
    “The way the winds of war whipped through Texas, I don’t imagine he spent what little time he had left with you talking.”
    She knew her face flamed red with embarrassment as images from the past rose into her mind. “How we spent our final moments together is no concern of yours, but I’ll tell you this. You are goddamned right! We didn’t spend a single breath talking about you. We both knew he might not come back, and we crammed a lifetime into what little time we had left. He sacrificed everything for the Confederacy, while you, his friend, sacrificed nothing. Don’t you dare speak to me about him again. You lost that right when you watched him ride away.”
    She dropped onto the wagon bed and curled into a tight ball, fighting back the tears that were suddenly stinging her eyes. Surely, Kirk would have told her if he thought Clay wasn’t a coward.
    Then again, he had avoided discussing the war or his enlistment because he knew it worried her to think of his leaving.
    She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the tears trail down her cheeks. Even in his letters, he had never written about the war. He had described the scenery, or the weather, or the food. He had told her how much he loved her and how much he missed her.
    But he had never shared with her his thoughts as a soldier.
    Reaching into the waistband of her trousers, she pulled out Kirk’s crumpled letter. She had yet to read it. She knew his final farewell resided in the letter. Until she read it, her own final farewell remained in her heart.
    Clutching the letter, she pressed it against her breast, trying to hold onto a love that was drifting away into a mist of memories.

Five
    T HE LATE AFTERNOON SUN REFLECTED OFF THE PINK GRANITE mound as it stood with majestic pride against the blue Texas sky. As though they were slumbering giants, huge rocks lay haphazardly along the path of stone leading to the hill. Carefully Meg guided her mare around the rocky rubble as Clay rumbled along in the wagon.
    He halted the wagon near a stone house. Someone had chopped down the solitary tree that might have provided shade. As though they were desperate fingers, the bare dead branches of the felled tree strained eerily toward the sun. No one worked; nothing created a sound. Even the wind had ceased its whispering.
    Clay climbed down from the wagon. The brim of his hat shadowed his face, revealing none of his thoughts, but then he hadn’t shared any thoughts with her since dawn. She’d awakened to find the promised meal waiting for her. Silence as heavy as that surrounding them now had permeated the air as they traveled. Much