She dropped her hands and found him kneeling beside her. "You're right, Robert. This is none of your business."

He gave her a distressing smile. "Think you need some low talking, girl. Why didn't you go with those

boys?"

"Mama Warner needs me."

"Meg, you and I both know that she's not even aware that you're here. Why didn't you go with those

boys?"

She intertwined her ringers and squeezed her hands until they ached. "Because I'm afraid. My brother put

the knife through Clay's hand. I'm sure of it, although he didn't say it exactly. If my father discovered that I'd spent time with Clay, I think he'd kill him."

"So you think it's best if you stay away?"

"He wanted me to walk out of the church with him, and I wouldn't do it because I was afraid of what

might happen. All these months, I've called him a coward, and I'm the coward."

"Being scared doesn't make you a coward, Meg."

"It certainly makes me feel like one."

He wrapped his hand around hers. "When Kirk left, were you afraid the Union soldiers might kill him?"

"I was terrified. I didn't sleep for weeks worrying about him."

"So, the morning he left, you stayed in bed under the covers."

"No, sir, I did not. I went to town with him and stood proudly..." She searched Robert's serious face. "I

stood by his side."

"And they killed him anyway."

Tears welled in her eyes. "And they killed him," she whispered, bringing her hand to her lips.

"How would you have felt, Meg, if he'd died, and you'd stayed home that morning?"

Sitting cross-legged on the foot of her bed, Meg stared at the wooden box. Mama Warner's wooden

box.

Meg had brought it home the day after Mama Warner had asked Clay to make her headstone.

But she hadn't looked inside it.

Why did Mama Warner want her to have it?

Easing off the bed, she knelt beside the box. With trembling fingers, she opened it The carving of Kirk rested on lop. Gently, she removed it, placed it in her lap, and brushed her fingers

over his youthful features. Mama Warner was right. She did want the carving. Now that she knew Clay

wasn't a coward, she wanted everything he'd ever touched.

She peered into the box, wondering what other treasures it held. Her breath caught at the sight of an envelope bearing Kirk's scrawled script.

She hadn't realized that he'd written to others while he was away. She wondered why Mama Warner hadn't shared the letters. She picked up the letter and turned it slowly in her hands. Mama Warner must have meant for her to read it, or she wouldn't have left it in the box.

Meg opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper. She wanted to capture every memory of Kirk that existed, even those that weren't her own. Slowly, she read the scrawled words her husband had written.

March 3, 1863 Dear Mama Warner, It took some doing, but I finally located Clay. He looks like death warmed over. You know Clay and his quiet ways. He suffers through their punishments without complaint.

and I think that only makes them angrier and causes them to treat him harsher.

I've written Jefferson Davis again asking that he exempt Clay based on his beliefs. Every man in my company applied his signature to the letter. We hear that President Davis is not as sympathetic toward conscientious objectors as Abraham Lincoln. Therefore, we hold out little hope for Clay, especially now that the South is in dire need of men.

Of course. Clay would object to our good intentions. He believes he should fight his own battles, and we should fight ours.

Before I left Cedar Grove, he asked me not to get involved in his fight, and I honored his request And yet, I often wonder if, with my silence, I betrayed him.

I sent you Clay's love, as well as my own, and that of the men in my company. Keep us all in your prayers.

Kirk

Meg crushed the letter to her breast. Perhaps only those who faced death daily were able to recognize that courage could be as quiet as a man's thoughts.

And with her silence, she had betrayed Clay as well.

"Hoowee! That woman looks mad enough to spit!" Lucian said as he stepped off the porch.

Halting in the doorway. Clay followed his brother's gaze and saw Meg trudging toward the house. His stomach tightened, and he was grateful he hadn't eaten much breakfast.

The twins worked their way past him and hopped off the porch. "Mornin", Miz Meg. We wasn't expectin' to see you this mornin'."

"I need someone to pull up the shutters on the shed."

"No, you don't," Clay said. "The shed is staying closed."

She quirked a thin, dark brow. "My stone is in there, and I want to have a look at it."

"Your stone?"

"That's right. I purchased it. It belongs to me."

"But it's in my shed, and I don't want you going in there."

"Unfortunately, we can't always have things go the way we want them to. If you won't pull the shutters up, I'll do it myself."

"We'll get 'em up for you," the twins yelled before they darted toward the shed.

"I'll give them a hand," Lucian said as he tipped his hat toward Meg and walked away.

She smiled triumphantly, and Clay felt as though he'd just marched into a battle he couldn't win. He

shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"I intend to."

His hand itched, and it had nothing to do with the healing wound. He had an urge to reach out and touch

her cheek, press his lips against hers, and invite the softness back into his life. He nodded toward the shed. "They've got the shutters up."

"Are you going to come with me?"

"No, ma'am."

She tilted up her nose. "Suit yourself."

"I intend to, Mrs. Warner."

Spinning on her heel, she walked toward the shed. Clay watched as she ruffled the twins' hair in passing.

Judging from the wide grin on Lucian's face, Clay decided she smiled at Lucian along the way.

Stepping off the porch. Clay watched her walk into the shed. Sometimes, late at night, he went into the

shed and watched the shadows. They changed with the positioning of the moon, but they no longer changed with the touch of his hand.

"What do you reckon she's lookin' for?" Josh asked as he sidled up against Clay.

"I don't know. What did you tell her to look for?"

Josh's eyes widened. "Didn't tell her to look for nothin'."

"Mmm-uh."

"Honest."

"After all this time, she just shows up this morning after you two disappeared for a spell yesterday. I find

that to be mighty coincidental."

"Clayton Holland!" she yelled from the doorway. "Get yourself in here."

Clay leaned against the porch beam. Joe stepped onto the porch. "We did go see her. Our hearts and

minds had a meetin' and decided it was best. Think if you'd let your heart and mind have a meetin', you'd

go see what she wanted."