““You have all this hate bottled up inside. The war is over. Pull the cork, Major Morgan. Empty the bottle." "You're like a damn cat at a mouse hole," he snarled. "Why are you out in this godforsaken wilderness with murdering Comanche? Do you have a death wish?" Morgan blinked, then looked down and raked the coals around the coffee can and murmured, "I keep asking myself, what if I stayed home, or came west with Hanna Leigh and not gone to war. It wasn't my war. I didn't want it, but Virginia tradition conscripted me." He banked the coals and cleared his throat. "I lost everything in the war, or afterwards to carpetbaggers and crooked judges...they even took my home and Hanna Leigh's grave." He fell silent and raked the ashes. Cathleen picked up a wood chip and joined Morgan in poking at the fire. "Are we going to die?" Then in a whisper added, "It doesn't matter, I won't have a...after they...””
