Hello - Sorry for the insanely long delay! I kept bouncing this around and finally settled on an ending I liked - hopefully someone is reading this and will like it too! I went back and reread the previous chapters and realized, I really miss these two characters. Well, I am off to enjoy Christmas - hope you all like this little present. Thank you to all those who read this story and for the support of comments. - B

Chapter 13 – Better Angels: Epilogue

Deciding to take a more direct route, they had been traveling southwest toward Texas and Miles for maybe five days when Charlie confronted the depressing fact that there would be no reason to turn around and go back. The moodiness, cramps and bloating started and she had to give up hope that she and Bass might have made a child, and without that last grasping straw they could not just go back and hide in their perfect home. They would have to continue – toward Willoughby, and her mother, and another fight, another war. And it made her angry! Angry that her life was good – even for a little while, and now it would be fighting and death, again. Angry that she was sleeping out under the stars and not to look at some magical constellation in the night sky; and that instead of being in her warm comfortable bed, she was back to taking shifts as look out to whoever was coming for them next. But most of all she was angry at him! Pissed that for all the times they had made love he had not gotten her pregnant! And so she let the anger fester; let the silence build between them… to punish him because life was never fair to her, never went her way. And so, a week later, when they reached Miles and he accused Bass of touching her she said, "Hey, hey, I wouldn't let him touch me." Charlie knew she was hurting Bass, but he had been right to say they would need to leave there time in the community back in that tiny, precious home. And when Bass said, "I saved her life." Charlie could see only a small glint of hurt at her denial of him and what they had been together. In that moment, her father was back on her shoulder asking why she still had not thanked him…

Charlotte knew she had forgiven Bass for not getting her pregnant – not giving them a reason to go back, the night her world was plunged into darkness. The night he died, because her hateful mother would rather avenge her brother than even consider what Charlotte needed or wanted, she still had not thanked him and then he was gone. He was gone and her tiny home dissolved into a dream, a fantasy that she was no longer sure had happened.

Publicly, Miles forgiveness had not come fully until the morning Bass had delivered the Patriot President to Blanchard. For the 6 months that followed the three of them had battled as a unit, had led the Rangers to the decimation of the Patriots, and had been declared Generals and heroes of the great state of Texas – a title that came with money and pardons and offers of leadership roles in Austin. The offers had been promptly and politely refused. Though Charlotte might have placed their time together in a locked box, Bass clearly had not. There in Blanchard's office, in front of Miles, Bass had asked her to go back to their little home in Kansas, and she had nearly wept with joy, before realizing she had to move quickly or Miles would have killed Bass.

10 years later:

"When you need to make a decision it is so very important that you listen to the little voice on your shoulder that tells you the right thing, the good thing. Think of it like having a little me on your shoulder – reminding you to say 'thank you', reminding you to say 'excuse me', or 'I'm sorry', or 'can I help' – that voice needs to be there to help you." Charlotte implored her sons to listen. At 9 her twins had spent more time getting into mischief than anything else. When not in school or finishing their chores with their father, they were hard to find and near impossible to control. A few months back, Bass had assured her they would outgrow the trouble, but when she had mouthed off that it took him until 50 to do it, he had tossed her over his shoulder and had given her rump a swat. That had led to a pleasurable afternoon and her current predicament – pregnant again and praying that this time would be a little girl. They had six rambunctious boys crammed into that attic, mostly because she hated the idea of leaving their perfect – way to small little craftsman; but even though it would require a move to a bigger home, she needed this baby to be a girl.

From behind the closed back porch door, Bass listened to his perfect wife's exasperation and knew he needed to intervene.

Standing next to him, Miles grinned, "They are no different than we were at that age."

Chuckling Bass reached for the knob, "Don't tell Charlotte. She needs hope." Pushing open the door, Bass watched as his beautiful wife turned her tired eyes toward him. Bass stepped forward and kissed the top of her head before announcing, "Boys, find your brothers and start packing your things – we are moving to a bigger home. Grandpa Miles is going to help you fill the wagon."

Turning Charlotte gave Bass a questioning look before asking, "Moving huh… I don't remember approving a move."

Bass kissed her nose and moved to sit across from her in one of the vacated chairs. "It is two houses down. We are trading with the elderly couple in the 4 bedroom house you love, because they don't want anything that big anymore and you have to know we CAN'T add another child to this house."

Charlotte looked at Bass – this man that she had loved, that had loved her and given her this dream of a life and shook her head. Smiling Charlotte cupped his scruffy cheek with her palm and finally gave in, "Thank you… thank you for loving me; for our new home; for all of these crazy, wild, insane boys; for this life, for putting me first…". Leaning forward she barely brushed her lips against his before finally adding, "… for saving me – that night and over and over again since."

Bass laughed, a deep hearty laugh, before pulling her onto his lap and responding, "Took you long enough!"