This made Jan laugh. “No, thank God I don’t. I’ve had enough to handle trying to decipher the random thought patterns of an old cavalryman.”

Nathan joined Jan as she chuckled. “Dad’s not so hard to figure. All a tanker needs is a whiff of diesel fumes, some grease on his hands, and a motor pool full of oversized dinosaurs and he’s happier than a pig in …”

“Nathan!” Jan snapped before he could finish. “You’re not in the barracks anymore.”

Though he stood a good head taller than Jan, he blushed and sheepishly hung his head low. As he looked up to apologize as was his habit when admonished in this way, Jan couldn’t help but recall the sight of the small, sandy haired boy who was always in trouble for minor offenses. That she was about to lose that child hurt her as she had never been hurt before.

With a shake of her head, Jan flashed a warm smile. “Well, I don’t know about you or the General, but I have a big day and I must be going.”

Rather than give his mother a smile, Nathan’s expression turned to one of sadness. “Mom, do you think Dad will ever forgive me for choosing Infantry over Armor?”

Jan knew this was a sensitive subject between the father and the son. Nathan, concerned that he would never be able to measure up to his father’s achievements, had opted for a path that would avoid such comparisons. Walking over to where Nathan sat, Jan placed her hand on Nathan’s sweaty back and gave it a gentle, comforting rub. “Your father loves you very much. And he’s proud of what you’ve achieved.”

“I couldn’t go Armor, Mom,” Nathan explained plaintively, though he had no need to do so. “I just couldn’t. Everything I did, every achievement of mine would be measured against his. As bad as it is being the son of ‘General’ Scott Dixon, it would be a million times worse if I were a tanker, too.”

Bending over, Jan planted a kiss on the top of Nathan’s sweaty head. “Your father understands that better than I think you give him credit for.”

Looking up, Nathan finally managed to summon his impish smile. “Thanks, Mom. Now, go out there and give ’em hell.”

With a smile on her face, Jan walked away, waving her free hand as she did so. “Yeah, yeah. I know. And don’t take any prisoners.” She was about to add, “You’re just like your father” before she disappeared around the corner but caught herself in time.

The drive to her office in Denver was good for Jan. It allowed her to slowly rearrange her thoughts, letting the peaceful tranquillity of domestic concerns slip away and those of work come to the fore in a gradual, unhurried way. The scenery all about her, mountains to the left, rolling plains to the right, helped. Only the antics of other drivers harried by schedules that always seemed to be too tight or stress that knew no end intruded as Jan thought her day through. Slowly, methodically, she laid out a mental plan of how she would deal with her own duties and responsibilities, while steeling herself to deal with whatever unforeseen crisis fate was waiting to throw in her way.