The personal relationship between the general and the younger officer had developed and then deepened on Amy's untimely death. Nathan had loved her deeply and General Scott had been very fond of her. Scott, a man with a loving wife and a large family, had tried to help the young officer through the agony of his grief. Scott's wife of a lifetime, Maria, had also done her best to console him. To a large extent, she had succeeded, and Nathan would be forever thankful for their help.

Then Nathan had been transferred out west. It had been Scott's idea to get him away from his memories, but it hadn't worked out according to plan. A horse shot by an Apache had fallen on Nathan and crushed his leg. He still limped, although he didn't need the cane as much as he had in the past. Miserable, wet weather still caused it to ache, like it did today.

Nathan had convalesced in California and then been offered the opportunity to resign his commission. He had accepted. The army no longer held anything for him beyond painful memories. “Would you like a drink?” Scott asked. “I have some excellent scotch whiskeys.” “Not right now, thank you.”

Scott appeared disappointed. He had written frequently of the evils of drinking among the enlisted soldiers, but did not feel that any prohibition extended to senior officers or men of good taste. “As you wish. Now, my young friend, how are you doing? You look fit and trim and, except for the touch of gray hair about your ears, you look young. More important, though, how are you handling your memories?”

Nathan took a deep breath. “My wife is dead and has been for more than five years. I have to live with that fact and deal with it. I have mourned and grieved and that part of my life is over. As they say, I have begun to get on with the rest of the time I have left on this earth.”

“Which will doubtless be of greater duration than mine,” Scott said drily. “After all, you are about forty years my junior.” Nathan managed a small smile. “Indeed. However. I will never forget Amy no matter how long I live.” “Nor should you, my friend, but I am glad that you are indeed moving on.”