Home By Morning
“Riley Braddock glanced to his left, the direction from which the request had come. It was pointless, though. With a black, cloudy night overhead, it was so damned dark here in this wet, miserable trench he doubted that a cat would be able to see anything. He was surrounded by men from his battalion, but he recognized this voice by its liquid vowels.
“Whip, that you?”
“It is,” Remy Whipperton Fournier, III, replied. “I managed to roll one dry smoke but I don’t have any matches.”
“I’ll check.” Ri...ley patted his pockets and rummaged through the pouches on his cartridge belt. His fingers closed on a small metal canister. Opening the lid, he extracted a single match. “Here you go.”
Whip’s hand fumbled with his own in the darkness until it found what he was searching for. “Thanks.” The match flared for a moment, and Riley saw the man’s genial face in its glow. “Damn, but I hate it up here,” was his languid complaint. “This is hardly what I expected my Grand Tour to be like.MoreLess
“Whip, that you?”
“It is,” Remy Whipperton Fournier, III, replied. “I managed to roll one dry smoke but I don’t have any matches.”
“I’ll check.” Ri...ley patted his pockets and rummaged through the pouches on his cartridge belt. His fingers closed on a small metal canister. Opening the lid, he extracted a single match. “Here you go.”
Whip’s hand fumbled with his own in the darkness until it found what he was searching for. “Thanks.” The match flared for a moment, and Riley saw the man’s genial face in its glow. “Damn, but I hate it up here,” was his languid complaint. “This is hardly what I expected my Grand Tour to be like.MoreLess
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