After a conversation with the auctioneer that started out going nowhere and ended up with Jeffrey’s blood boiling, he helped Grandpa onto the back of the horse, and they headed west.

The auctioneer didn’t know where the horse came from originally; however, he did know who sent it for him to sell. The auctioneer, it seemed, did not have a very rigorous vetting process. He cared not how the goods he sold were come by. He only wanted his hefty cut.

He refused to let the horse go without full payment; however, Jeffrey left with something much more important—the name of the woman who brought the horse in to sell. Hazel Ketchins.

His impulse was to jump on the back of the horse and race to Hazel’s house, hopefully to find Claire, but he didn’t have the heart to ask Grandpa to wait for him. Claire was, after all, his granddaughter.

He sighed. It was going to take hours just to get there.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to be walking,” Grandpa said.

“I’ve walked so many miles. I’m used to it,” Jeffrey said.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said again. “You could be there and back by the time we get down the road good.”

Jeffrey stopped. Studied the man who had become his friend. Was he a mind reader now?

“You know I’m right,” Grandpa said.

Jeffrey looked around. They were still in town. It wouldn’t be far for him to walk back. Go to the tavern. Have a cigar. Maybe even a drink. Relax.

Jeffrey ran his hand through his hair. “This is a good horse,” he said.

“Here. Help me down. My old bones need to rest.”

Jeffrey helped the older man down. “You’ll be alright?”

Grandpa took a step back. “Go get her.”

Jeffrey jumped onto the horse, hit the reins, and galloped away. It felt good to feel the wind in his face again and speed of the horse beneath him. His horse had been shot out from under him long before the steamboat explosion. He’d consequently been forced to walk. Everywhere.

The horse traversed the distance in no time. Jeffrey followed the instructions given to him, turning left at the fork, and continuing until he came to the big oak tree with the swing hanging by thick ropes.

Second house on the left. It was a cottage. Like most houses in the south, in bad need of a paint job and other repairs.

He slowed to a walk, watching for movement.

His heart lodged in his throat when he saw her. She was being escorted out the front door and down the front porch by a rough-looking, burly man.

He’d not been warned about a man.

He instinctively felt for his gun, but remembered it had been taken away.

Claire smiled at the man, took his arm when he offered it to help her down the steps.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Claire glanced up, then focused on Jeffrey. She stood still. Watching him approach. Her expression confused.

A couple of yards away, he stopped and dismounted. Took a step forward.

Her face split into a wide smile and she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

Her scent, her softness enveloped him. He picked up her, her arms around his neck, and twirled her around.

Her face buried against his neck. Holding her close, he couldn’t get enough.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she murmured against his skin.

“Never. I’d go to the ends of the earth to find you.” He pulled back, his hands in her hair, on her face.

Though she was smiling, her eyes were moist. He kissed her eyelids. Drew her close again.

The marshal cleared his throat. Jeffrey, keeping his arms around Claire, turned to the man.

“Is this the horse in question?” he asked.

“You found my horse,” Claire said.

“More like bought it,” Jeffrey said, wryly.

“If you hang around for a few days, I’ll get your money back,” the marshal said.

“No thanks,” Jeffrey said. “We’ve been here long enough. Getting Claire back is worth any money spent.”

“I more than understand,” the marshal said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll escort you into town.”

“Do you need to say goodbye to Miss Ketchins?” Jeffrey asked.

Claire’s eyes widened. She glanced at the marshal. Shook her head. “The sooner we get away, the better.”

Jeffrey gazed at her questioningly.

“I’ll explain later.”

Jeffrey noticed a young boy standing near the porch, shuffling his feet, watching them.

Claire followed his gaze. Disentangling herself, she went to the boy.

“Daniel,” she began. “Do you want to come with us?”

The boy lowered his gaze. “Nah. I’ll stay here a little longer. Miss Hazel treats me alright.” He looked up at the horse and Jeffrey. “I’m gonna be leaving soon to join the fighting. I hear tell that once I’m fourteen, I’ll be old enough.”

“I hope the war is over by then,” Claire said. “Are you sure? You can come with us.”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t know anything but here.”

“Very well,” Claire said. “Take care of yourself.”

She rejoined Jeffrey and shrugged. “It’s complicated,” she said.

They got onto the horse, Jeffrey behind her, and with the marshal as their escort, made their way back to Natchitoches as the sun began to drop below the trees.

Jeffrey wanted to pick up Grandpa and just go home.

 

Claire snuggled against Jeffrey, her back against his chest, the horse swaying gently. He had assured her that Grandpa was safely waiting for them in town.

Claire was flooded with relief at being away from Hazel’s house and joy at being with Jeffrey again. She truly thought she would never see him again.

If not for Hazel selling her horse out from under her, Jeffrey never would have found her.

“How did you find me anyway?” she asked. “I was supposed to be at Aunt Becky’s house, but Aunt Becky…” her voice trailed off, the lump in her throat as she remembered her kind aunt. Grandpa’s sister had visited them many times. She always brought joy to them, especially Grandpa.

“Aunt Becky’s worried about you,” he said.

Claire twisted around to look at him.

“Whoa,” he said, grabbing her close around the waist. “Let’s not fall off of this horse.”

She turned back. “They didn’t tell you,” she said.

“Tell me what?”

“Aunt Becky died.”

“What? When?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say. But it’s been a little while.” Her chin trembled.

“I met her yesterday. She seemed healthy to me.”

She twisted again.

Jeffrey chuckled as he held onto her. “You’re gonna knock us to the ground yet.”

“You met Aunt Becky!”

“Yeah. She’s a nice lady. We stayed at her boarding house.”

Relief and disbelief flooded through Claire. She’d been grieving for Aunt Becky and now… she was well.

“Why would she lie?”

“Hazel lied to you?”

“About that. Hazel not only lied, but she wouldn’t let me leave. I was a prisoner in her house.”

Jeffrey stopped the horse. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just wanted to be away from there. There was nothing you could do.”

“I could have made her pay for mistreating you.”

“You couldn’t hurt a woman.”

“Claire,” he said. “I will hurt anyone who dares to harm you.”

A warmth spread through her. She linked her hands with Jeffrey’s. Tilting her head back against his chest, she turned her head enough that he placed his cheek against hers. Then they each shifted slightly until his lips pressed against hers. Her head back, her eyes closed, she absorbed the feel of him.

Her heart swelled. She loved everything about him. The way he smelled of outdoors. The way his cheek was rough against hers. The way her hands fit safely inside his.

The way he vowed to protect her. And she had no doubt that he would if need be.

The way he sent shivers through her body. Shivers that had never been there before.

Shivers that she didn’t completely understand. But she wanted to.

She never wanted to be apart from him.

She never wanted him to take his lips from hers.

This feeling. This love.

Claire was in love with Jeffrey.

The thought sent a shockwave through her.

She was in love with him in every possible way.

Perhaps they needed to get off the horse.

He ended their kiss with a series of little kisses, promising of more. “We’re here,” he said.

Her eyes were still dazed from his kiss and the realization that she was in love with him. She righted herself and focused on the town opening up in front of them.

She should be happy to see the town.

She would have preferred for the trip to last a little longer.

Heading toward Main Street, they found Aunt Becky’s house. The Yankees, it seemed, had spared Natchitoches.

Jeffrey dismounted first, then took Claire by the waist and, pulling her close, slid her from the horse. As she slid down into his arms, her feet not yet touching the ground, she was caught in a haze. She wrapped her arms around him and felt her body respond to being pressed against his.

He groaned and kissed her full on the mouth.

“Now, now,” Grandpa said, coming down the front porch. “We don’t need to have a shotgun wedding.”

Jeffrey set her on her feet and keeping a hand on her elbow to steady her, took a step back.

“Grandpa!” Claire said, running to hug her grandfather. Her arms around him, she was overcome with emotions and tears ran down her cheeks. “I was so worried about you.”

“I’m the one who was worried,” he said. “When you didn’t show up here, I thought something must have happened to you.”

Pulling back, she swiped at the tears. Nodded. “I sort of got lost.”

“Well, you’ll have time to rest now. Aunt Becky knows you’ll be staying here.”

“Me?”

“I’m leaving in the morning to go back to the house. I have to pick something up.”

Claire glanced at Jeffrey, a feeling of dread hitting her in the gut. “You’re going back for the money.”

Grandpa glanced at the deserted street. “I have to. It’s all I have left.”

“But Grandpa, it burned.”

“I don’t think so. The bricks would protect it.”

“How much money are you talking?” Jeffrey asked.

“Three hundred.”

“Confederate,” Claire added.

“The area is crawling with Yankees,” Jeffrey said.

“They won’t bother an old man.”

“Please, Grandpa. Don’t go. The money isn’t worth it.”

Aunt Becky opened the front door, stepped out onto the porch. “What are you all doing standing out here? Get in here and eat this supper I just cooked. Come on.”

Putting their conversation aside, the three of them went inside. Aunt Becky enveloped Claire into a big hug before she hustled them all to the dinner table.

Claire was reminded of the time she had spent here. Before the war. When Uncle John was alive. They managed to take Claire with them to a ball or a BBQ every time she visited. Claire enjoyed her simple life living with her grandparents, but time spent here in town had fed her fanciful ideas of a more exciting life. A place with boys that would come courting.

Her face flushed, she turned and smiled at Jeffrey. He hadn’t come courting, but instead, had broken into their house. And managed to break into her heart in the process.

After supper, after Aunt Becky, had gone to her sitting room to quietly read and rest before bed, and the three of them went out and sat on the porch.

Claire and Jeffrey sat on the porch swing and Grandpa sat on the rocker.

“I could use a good cigar right about now,” Grandpa said.

How could he be so calm, Claire wondered, when she was sick with worry about him traipsing across the country that had become a battlefield. Just weeks ago, he was so weak, he could barely get out of bed. And now he wanted to go off by himself and travel miles to retrieve Confederate money that was essentially worthless.

“I’d even take a bad cigar at the moment,” Jeffrey said.

Men.

“Grandpa,” Claire said, “It’s Confederate money. It’s not… it’s not worth what it used to be.”

“I know that, Kitten, but I need to see the home place one more time.”

Claire sighed. She had to admit to herself that she understood that.

“Very well,” she said, sitting up straight, ready for an argument. “I’m going with you.”

“And don’t you two even begin to think that you’re going to take a trip without me,” Jeffrey said, taking Claire’s hand.

Grandpa merely shrugged. “Alright,” he said. “The sooner we leave, the better.” He stood up. “I’ll see you two at daybreak.”

Aunt Becky had already given them each a bedroom. The large house had five bedrooms and she only had one boarder at the time, so there was plenty of space for all them.

“Thank you,” Claire said, squeezing Jeffrey’s hand.

“I should get some sleep, too. I have to get up early tomorrow and go into town.”

“Why?”

“I don’t plan on walking this time. After we go by Grandpa’s house, I’m ready to start home.”

The familiar pang in the pit of her stomach. He couldn’t stay here with them forever. He had to return to his own home. Up north.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Her hand in his, her mood glum, she went with him upstairs to the bedroom Aunt Becky had given her.

“Wait,” he said, “I need to give you something.” He pulled her with him into his room across the hall.

Feeling a bit risqué, she went with him. He reached into a saddlebag lying across a chair and pulled out a book.

She took the book, and a little thrill shot through her. It was Jane Eyre. “I thought I’d lost it,” she said, throwing her arms around him.

“It found it on the horse.”

She pulled back, looked into his eyes, reflecting the candlelight. “The whole thing is unbelievably fortuitous.”

“Fortuitous indeed,” he agreed, putting a hand gently against her cheek and placing his lips against hers.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips trembled against his. He increased the pressure, pulling her tightly against him.

His lips were a delicious combination of soft and insistent as they began to move against hers.

She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her arms went around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair.

He groaned and, putting an arm beneath her knees to pick her up, carried her to the settee. He sat, settling her on his lap, his lips never leaving hers.

His breath against her lips as he kissed the edge of her mouth was nearly her undoing.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, edging back just enough to gaze at her in the pale candlelight.

They sat, clinging to each other as the seconds passed. Claire wanted the moment to never end.

She whimpered as he picked her up and carried her across the hall to her bed. He untied one shoe and slipped it off her foot, then untied the other and let it drop to the floor.

He helped her under the blankets and brought the quilt to her chin.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. It seemed to be all he needed. He went around to the other side of the bed, crawled beneath the quilt and snuggled against her back.

“Get some sleep, my love,” he said, nestling his cheek against hers.

The words were barely spoken before she did indeed fall into a deep slumber.

 

Jeffrey lay with his arms wrapped around Claire. Oh, how he wanted her.

But Claire was a lady and he knew he had to convince her to marry him before making her his in every way.

The sooner he could get her to Chene Ruelle, the sooner he could marry her. But he wanted his sister there and his grandfather. They would be shocked, first of all, that he was alive, and second, that he would be bringing a wife.

He scowled at the thought. They would know that he had defected. He may not even be welcome at his family home. At the very least, it may take some time to regain their trust.

As he lay there with Claire, pondering their future, it occurred to him how long it would take to get her home and finally marry her.

Truth be told, he didn’t think he could tolerate the wait.

As she slept, he ran his hand along the smooth skin of her cheek.

No, he decided, there was no reason to wait.

Perhaps Gramps would be willing to delay their trip for a day if he knew the reason why. Tomorrow, he had to find two horses and a new dress for Claire.

 

Claire woke with the sun in her eyes. Where am I?

As she sat up, shielding her eyes from the sun, she realized she was still in her day clothes… and she was only halfway dressed. Putting her feet on the cool wood floor, she flushed with remembering how Jeffrey had taken off her shoes… among other things.

She went to the washbowl and splashing water on her face, examined her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Now, she wanted…more.

Would he think less of her for showing such wild abandon? Would he think her wanton?

She’d fallen asleep in his arms. And now he was gone. Had he lost interest in her now that she’d allow him to hold her?

She dried her face and smiled secretly to herself. Even after all the books she’d read about love, now… now she understood the thing that bound a man and a woman together. The thing that took love to another level.

As she began the task of re-buttoning the ugly brown dress that Hazel had given her, she longed for something pretty to wear. Something that Jeffrey would like.

After putting on her shoes, she combed her hair. She needed a bath and a dress. Simple things, really, but with this war going on, it was nearly impossible to get food, much less something decent to wear.

Expecting to see Jeffrey when she went downstairs, Claire was surprised to see Grandpa—alone.

Stopping at the door to the kitchen, she looked around, then felt Grandpa’s perusal. Which only made her flush more.

“Aunt Becky’s out back,” he said, “but she made breakfast.”

Claire’s stomach growled. She filled a plate and sat down across from her grandfather.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

She nearly choked. And the flush on her cheeks felt like a sunburn. She shrugged. “I slept well enough.” Though she knew she was lying. She had slept like a baby.

“That’s good,” he said.

Despite her discomfort, she was starved. She bit into a biscuit. Closed her eyes as she chewed. Only in these past few days had she come to appreciate good food. Hardtack was the worst thing she had ever tried to eat.

“Jeffrey is smitten with you,” he said.

Claire opened her eyes and looked at him. “I don’t know…” she said, not sure what he was referring to. Did he know about last night?

She felt her face flush again.

“He was up before dawn this morning. Said something about going to find horses and a dress.”

“A dress? A dress for what?”

Grandpa shrugged. “A dress for you.”

Claire glanced down at the ugly brown dress. As much as she would like a new dress, it was disconcerting to think that Jeffrey thought so too.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

Claire wasn’t ready to share these new emotions. Not even with her grandfather. She bit into a strip of bacon and her mind raced with how to avoid this conversation. “I don’t know,” she said.

Grandpa leaned back. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “If you loved him, you would know.”

“I haven’t known him all that long.”

“It doesn’t take all that long to fall in love, Kitten.” He stood up and turned to walk away.

Claire didn’t answer. She had lost her appetite.

Then he turned back, a wistful expression on his face. “Then sometimes love comes softly. It can take hold of a person and turn their life upside down. Jeffrey is a good catch. If you care for him now, it may take some time to let that affection grow into something… special.” He turned then, and walked outside.

Claire sat staring after him. Was he talking about himself? Had he experienced that with her grandmother?

Claire was in love with Jeffrey. She had no doubt of that in her mind. She would share that when the time was right.

 

There was one thing Jeffrey hadn’t calculated into his plan for his future with Claire—Grandpa.

Grandpa was up before Jeffrey. Did the man never sleep?

“I’m gonna head into town to see if I can buy a couple more horses for our trip.”

“I doubt you’ll find any.”

“I have to try. That’s not a trip I want to make on foot again.”

“You’re not accustomed to not having a horse.”

Jeffrey scoffed. In another lifetime, that had certainly been true. But since losing his horse and having to fight… and travel on foot, that had changed.

“I think you’re an admirable man to do that.”

“Then you don’t mind waiting another day to leave?”

“It’ll be worth it if we have horses.”

And a wife. Jeffrey’s intentions of the night before suddenly lodged in his throat. He couldn’t just toss out his intent to marry the man’s granddaughter. Jeffrey had been raised better than that. The war may have turned everything upside down, but Jeffrey was a gentleman to the core.

He knew what he had to do. He had to ask for Claire’s hand before he could even mention marriage to Claire.

And today was not the day for that. Jeffrey wanted to procure the horses, get Grandpa’s money, or whatever it was he wanted from the burned house, and get home.

The urge to get home had never been so strong in him.

He wanted—needed to see his sister and his grandfather. Perhaps it was from spending so much time with Claire and her grandfather, but whatever it was, it was pulling him home.

He’d heard that twins had a unique connection. Perhaps Alexandra was in trouble. He needed to be with her. To help her, if that was the case.

By daylight, the town was awake and Jeffrey began to make inquiries. The first couple of hours were spent chasing phantoms, but finally, someone directed him to a stable on the other side of town, across the river.

The owner showed Jeffrey two horses.

“Surely you have horses in better condition than these,” Jeffrey said.

The man glanced toward the other end of the stable. “Horses are hard to come by these days.”

“Everything is hard to come by with the war, but there are people who can get things anyway.”

“I have a team, but they’re my personal horses and they’re not for sale.”

“Can I see?” Jeffrey asked.

The man led him to another area of the stable. Two thoroughbreds stood side by side watching the two men as they approached.

Jeffrey whistled. “These are fine quality.”

The man nodded proudly. “The best of the best. Before the war, I dabbled in some horse breeding.”

“Looks like you did more than dabble.”

The man shrugged. “These are all I have left.”

“I have to travel with my fiancé and her elderly grandfather. I can’t ask them to walk a long distance. Due to circumstances I can’t go into, they had to walk to get here. I think it damn near killed them. I have to take them north a little bit, then get them down south to my home.”

The man nodded, “Sounds like a bad situation.”

“Very. I have money. I can buy them. But I understand why you don’t want to sell. Perhaps I could rent them from you. After I get them safely to my home, Chene Ruelle, I can have them sent back to you.”

“Chene Ruelle, you say?”

“Yes, that’s where I’m from?”

“Are you a Couvion?”

Jeffrey nodded. “My grandfather is Ernest Couvion.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Ernest and I go way back. I consider him a friend.”

“You don’t say?”

“Tell you what,” the man said. “You take the horses, no charge, and get your girl and her family where they need to be. Then you get the horses on back to me.”

Two hours later, after meeting the man’s wife, who insisted on him staying for brunch, Jeffrey rode off on one of the man’s prized horses, the other in tow.

Turns out the wife had known Jeffrey’s father. “You look so much like him,” she had insisted. “Your uncle once courted my sister. And I met your father, but he was already smitten by your mother,” she’d said, smiling mischievously at her husband.

That had sealed the deal.

The whole exchange had been bittersweet for Jeffrey. It broke his heart that a stranger saw his father in him.

And Jeffrey couldn’t even remember what his father looked like.

He’d thought finding horses was a challenge, but finding a lady’s dress, it seemed, was next to impossible. He found two—one was much, much too big and the other was much, much too small—a child’s dress.

As he was walking out the door of the shop on Main Street, the clerk called out to him. He stopped and she dashed forward, her arms full of red and blue fabric.

Jeffrey went back inside and she spread the fabric across a table. There were two dresses that looked to be about the right size for Claire.

“I found these upstairs,” she said, breathless from running to catch him. “I had made these for a young woman before the war, but when her husband joined the army, she went with him. I never heard from her again.”

One of the dresses was a high neck gown in blue organdy. The other was a red silk. The red silk was a ball gown with a daring neckline and ties up the back.

“If you like one of them, you can bring her by and I can make some minor alterations if needed.”

Claire could wear the blue now and he could save the red one to give her later to wear once they reached Chene Ruelle.

 

Two days later, Claire, Jeffrey, and Grandpa dismounted in front of what had been their house. Jeffrey held Claire by the waist as she slid from the horse.

Though Grandpa had been watching them closely, he was currently focused on the wreckage of his former home.

Jeffrey took advantage and stole a kiss which brought a smile to Claire’s lips. He took her hand and led her to the area that once been her home.

They would never know if the money survived the heat of the fire. Scavengers had carried away the bricks, picking the place clean.

Grandpa was silent as he walked through the area where the house he had built himself had stood.

Jeffrey and Claire stood back, giving him space.

“I’m too old to rebuild,” he said, his voice wistful. “And Claire won’t be living here anyway,” he continued, his voice growing stronger.

He turned back, gazing straight at Jeffrey. “I can go back to Becky’s house,” he said. Then he looked at Claire. “Do you want to live at Aunt Becky’s with me?”

Claire couldn’t seem to find words. “I ‘um…”

“It’s alright,” he said, turning back to kick at the dirt.

Claire looked up at Jeffrey for guidance, perhaps, her eyes wide.

Jeffrey sucked in a deep breath. It was time.

“Sir,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Grandpa turned back around, a smile playing on his lips.

Jeffrey ignored it. He needed to get this part over with. If Grandpa said no, he didn’t know what he would do. He released Claire’s hand and took three steps forward, so he could look Grandpa in the eyes. “I’d like to ask for Claire’s hand in marriage.”

“Is that so? And why is that?”

Jeffrey swallowed thickly. Was it always this hard? “Because I love her, sir.”

“Does she want to marry you?”

Good question. What kind of custom was this anyway? He had to make a fool of himself when he didn’t even know if the girl wanted to marry him.

“I hope so. I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Don’t you think you need to find that out first?”

“I thought…” Jeffrey took a deep steadying breath. “Yes. I’m thinking that would be a very good idea.”

What better way, he considered, to begin a new life than in the rubble of the old?

He turned around.

Claire smiled at him and his heart tripped up a notch.

He wanted her more than anything. He had since the day he first laid eyes on her.

He closed the distance between them, took her hand in his, and knelt in the ashes. “Claire,” he said, his voice rough with unchecked emotion, “Will you marry me?”

She went into his arms and he cradled her on his knee. “Yes,” she said. “I will marry you. But…”

He pulled back, filled with dread. “But?”

Her brow was furrowed. She glanced toward Grandpa. “I can’t leave my grandfather.”

Relief washed through him. “Is that all?”

She nodded, eyebrows raised.

“I was planning on bringing him with us anyway.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“Will he come?” she asked, looking over his shoulder at her grandfather.

“I guess you’ll have to ask him,” he said mischievously. They stood, and hands interlocked, faced Claire’s grandfather.

“I won’t go without you,” she said.

“I know,” he said, glancing around. “It’s not like I’ll be leaving much behind.”

“Then you’ll come?” she asked, with hope in her voice.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I’ll come with you.”

Jeffrey picked her up at the waist and twirled her around. “It’s a happy day,” he said, setting her on her feet. Then he sealed it with a kiss.

When he pulled back and looked into her eyes, he saw a guilty expression on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

She nodded toward Grandpa. The older man stared off into the distance, a wistful expression on his face.

Noticing them watching him, he turned back and moved toward them. “Congratulations are in order,” he said, holding out his arms to hug Claire.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said. “I know this is a sad time for you.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Life goes on. This is a happy occasion. We’re off to have new adventures.”

“I hope our adventures are better this time around,” Jeffrey said, feeling that pull again toward Chene Ruelle. “Is there anything else we need to do here, sir?”

“No,” Grandpa said, turning his head toward commotion coming from the pond.

“What is it, Grandpa?”

He didn’t say anything at first, but a tear dropped from his cheek. He met her gaze, his voice full of emotion. “It’s Romeo.”

The dog ran full speed toward them, nearly knocking Claire down as he happily licked her face.

Their hearts light, they found a spot near the pond and settled on a couple of fallen logs to eat the dinner they had brought with them.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Jeffrey said. “Both of you.”

Grandpa and Claire turned to him with curiosity.

“We don’t have very far to go. To get to my family home.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked, her smile faltering with confusion.

“I know I was dressed as a Yankee when you shot me,” he nodded to Grandpa, “but I’m southern as you are. I’m from south Louisiana.”

“You don’t live up north?”

Jeffrey could see the relief and hope in Claire’s face.

“Thank you,” Claire said, lifting her eyes to the Heavens. Then turned her smile, bright with happiness on Jeffrey.