Her Hesitant Heart. Carla Kelly

sew lead shot into their hems, to keep the wind from, well, doing what it does to skirts,” he told her.

      “I’ll remember that.”

      As they walked toward the hospital, the bugler in front of the guardhouse played recall from fatigue, or tried to play it, considering that the wind grabbed the notes and hurtled them toward Omaha as soon as he blew them.

      “Soldiers have been known to commit suicide from too much wind,” he commented, then could have smacked himself. Do I not remember a single bit of idle chatter? he asked himself.