Sheridan.
The home was large and comfortable, and in no place she had ever been had she been more comfortable. But this was the commandant’s home, and Brevet General G.A. Custer was no longer the commandant. She was no longer the commandant’s wife, and, as a matter of fact, she was no longer an army wife.
How cruel life was, she thought at that moment. Other wives, upon learning of the untimely death of their husband, would at least have the comfort of their home until they recovered. She would not. As of this moment, Libbie Custer was not the resident of this house. She was merely a visitor, someone who would be forced to leave, not only this house, but the entire army.
As Libbie was contemplating the terrible turn of fate that had befallen her, Falcon was shown in by Mary.
“Oh, Colonel MacCallister,” Libbie said, standing and walking over to him. He embraced her, and held her for a long moment as she wept into his shoulder. Looking around, Falcon saw Lorena sitting in a chair near the wall.
“Where is Maggie?” Falcon asked Lorena.
“She has taken to her bed,” Lorena answered. “This has been terribly hard on her, too.”
“Yes, I imagine it has.”
“Did—did you see Tom before—before this all happened?”
“Yes,” Falcon said. “And he had a message for you.”
“A message? What sort of message?”
“He said for me to tell you that he thought it might have worked.”
Tears sprung anew to Lorena’s eyes. “He said that?”
“Yes.”
“I mean, he said it exactly that way? That he thought it might have worked?”
“Yes. I think Tom had a premonition. That was his way of wanting me to tell you that he loved you.”
“Oh,” Lorena said, and now the tears were coming harder. “Oh, thank you, Falcon. Thank you for telling me that.”
“Libbie,” Falcon said, lifting her head and looking at her. “I have the general’s last letter for you, when you are up to reading it. Do you want it now?”
“Yes, oh, please, do give it to me now.”
Once more, Libbie lifted the handkerchief to her eyes and dabbed at the tears. By now, though, the handkerchief was soaked, and young Rosie brought a new, clean, and dry one to her.
“Thank you, darling,” Libbie said. “Falcon, I have the letter that you brought me that terrible day. Would you like me to read it?”
“Yes, please do,” Falcon said.
Libbie removed an envelope from her purse, then pulled out a well-worn and, obviously, often-read letter.
She began to read:
Libbie looked up after finishing the letter, and even though it was over fifty years later, her eyes glistened with tears.
“I also have the last letter I wrote to him,” she said. “And, as this letter didn’t get there until it was too late, he never read it. Would you like to hear it as well?”
Falcon knew that she very much wanted to read it, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I would very much like to hear it.”
Libbie put the letter from Custer back into her purse. Then, she removed a silk handkerchief and wiped her eyes before she took out the next envelope. Like the first letter she read, this one was well worn and often read. Pulling the letter from the envelope, she cleared her throat and began to read.
