Devall shrugged and stretched back. I did what was right, he told himself firmly. That's the one thing I can be sure of.
But I hope I don't ever have to face my sister again.
He dozed, after a while, eyes half-open and slipping rapidly closed. Sleep came to him, and he welcomed it, for he was terribly tired.
He was awakened suddenly, by a loud outcry. A jubilant shout from a dozen throats at once, splitting the afternoon calm. Devall felt a moment's disorientation; then, awakening rapidly, he sprang to the window and peered out.
A figure—alone and on foot—was coming through the open gateway. He wore regulation uniform, but it was dripping wet, and torn in several places. His blond hair was plastered to his scalp as if he had been swimming; he looked fatigued.
Leonards.
The colonel was nearly halfway out the front door before he realized that his uniform was in improper order. He forced himself back, tidied his clothing, and with steely dignity strode out the door a second time.
Leonards stood surrounded by a smiling knot of men, enlisted men and officers alike. The boy was grinning wearily.
"Attention!" Devall barked, and immediately the area fell silent. He stepped forward.
Leonards raised one arm in an exhausted salute. There were some ugly bruises on him.