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“We need to get you warmer and dry” Josh said as he was working. He gathered some dry pine straw and used it to start a fire with the lighter. It didn’t take long to get the fire going good and hot. Liz felt the heat radiate from it where she was sitting a few feet away.After it was going nicely Josh took out a bandana out of his back pack and found some sticks. “I need to brace and wrap your ankle” he said as he turned toward her and gently grabbed her foot and took her shoe off. Liz clinched in pain as her shoe came off. Josh put a stick around both sides of her ankle and then wrapped the bandana tightly around it to keep the swelling down. He gently lifted her foot up and then put a log under her foot to elevate it too. “Where did you learn these life-saving skills” Liz asked him as she watching him work. “I used to be an Emergency Room Tech” he told her. “So I’m in good hands then” she smiled and said back to him.Josh took off his shirt and rang out as much water as he. "I'm sorry," I said, petting her hip, feeling my lust flame up."Um," she said, "part a'being a soldier." We were betrayed, tricked," I said. "Damn shame." Go clean up," she said with a tight smile, "and come make love to me."She did not have to tell me twice. I plunged myself in the cold creek, scraped off my whiskers, found some nearly clean britches and another of my long tailed shirts a lissome lady had sewed up for me, and was back at the captain's tent faster than you can cook a hoe cake, still damp. We did not waste any time with words but got right to the fleshy part, joined our bodies and wore each other out. Then she lay in my arms, soft and warm, and cried. She sobbed and shook, and I held her and petted her head and stroked her heaving back.After a while, she stopped, pulled away, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, said, "Thank you," and got herself dressed while I lay on the dead captain's cot and admired her lush body. She even put on her stays and I helped her.
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He thought of her, remembered how she would have nagged him for not rinsing out the glass and for just leaving it in the sink. He shook his head and rinsed it. He placed it in the drainer and grabbed the hand towel from its hook. He chuckled knowing she would have done the same. The summer’s day had ended. In the past, Remy Therriault might have been on his way home from work or sitting in his den with a cold soft drink while the pretty, young wife of his sat on his lap. This would not happen today, or any other future day. Heavy-hearted, he made his way into the sparsely furnished living area. A couch stood in front of the fireplace. A comfortable, overstuffed chair sat to the left, an end table with an electric lamp next to it. On that seat was a bookmarked book, plus an unopened bottle of Pepsi. Remy sighed and picked up the book: Reading was one of the view enjoyments he shared with her that he had left since her death. She was his wife Penny. Born Penelope Cartwright 25 years.

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