Uriah leaned against the back of the bathing basin and closed his eyes. "He was gone again, Mary, and we could not think how to find him."

"We can talk about it later, you have only just come home." Mary dumped another pail of heated water into the basin.

"We stayed in Guilford. We looked upon the faces of all the dead and most of the wounded. If he had been wounded, we would have brought him home."

"Rest, husband, rest." Kneeling down, she pulled his shoulders foreword until he sat up and then untied the cord holding his hair back. The bags under his eyes were puffy and dark, his beard and mustache were untrimmed and the gray near his temples had noticeably increased. Mary soaked the rag, lifted his chin and began to wash the sweat and dirt from his face.

"We heard that Cornwallis had gone south and Greene had marched after him. But then I remembered it was spring. It is spring Mary."

"Aye, it is spring."

"You do not see. Many a man has left the fight to go home for the planting . . . but not John. We do not plant, we raise horses."

Mary took a sharp breath. The water around his hand stirred as though he meant to reach for her, but he was too exhausted. At length she tilted his head back, put her hand above his eyes and poured water into his hair.