Wow, what a wonderful response to this story. It was a challenge to write... Thank you all for the wonderful feedback!

And we continue...

Athos arose before the rooster crowed. The small cot in the narrow guest room had allowed him some quiet, but he quickly straightened the blankets, donned his doublet and weapons' belt, and draped his cloak over his arm and exited the room. The house was quiet except for the sounds of wood snapping and cracking as the banked fire continued to smolder and Athos opened the door and took in a deep breath of fresh air. Dawn was cresting the horizon as he walked to the barns. He paused a moment, turned, and looked toward the lone horse in the corral to the right of barns. The big black flickered his ears forward, walked to the fence and watched him.

Athos draped his cloak over the tie post, placed his hat on top, and then walked toward the corral. The horse tossed his head and quietly nickered. Athos grasped the top rail of the corral, rubbed the horse's muzzle, and chuckled when his pockets were immediately searched. He wasn't as broad as Roger and he didn't have as high a head or neck carriage, but the horse stood just as tall, with a full mane, straight head, broad chest, and a long belly and legs for speed. Athos reached into his pocket and removed a carrot. He broke it in half — saving a part for Roger — and allowed the gelding to eat.

"He didn't arrive with a name," Willy said as he walked to the corral. He tossed an armful of hay into the wooden feeder and then stepped back. "Monsieur Henri calls him Duff."

Athos turned and looked at the young man, who shrugged and pointed toward the gate that was tied shut with several different ropes and held in place with a wheeled cart filled with bricks. Athos chuckled and watched Duff use his upper lips to search for the best pieces of hay.

"Duff doesn't like Monsieur Henri," Willy said. "He pins his ears when he gets close… I think it's because Monsieur Henri calls him Duff."

Athos quirked his lips and said, "How is Roger this morning?"

"Your big black?"

"Yes." Athos pushed himself from the fence.

"He's a fine horse, Monsieur." Willy smiled. He grabbed a sprig of hay from the feeder and slipped it between this teeth. "Roger is a true gentleman."

"Take me to him, Willy," Athos said, and followed him. "How long have you worked for Monsieur Henri?"

The young man scratched his head and said, "Two years — after my father died, Monsieur Henri said he would let me train to become his lead groom." Willy was fourteen. He was tall for his age, but managed the horses with patience, kindness, and respect. He walked Athos toward the end stall and Roger stuck his head out. The big black smacked his lips together and nuzzled Athos' pocket in search of the carrot he knew was there.

Athos smiled, rubbed his hand along the bridge of Roger's nose, and then removed the remaining portion of the carrot.

"Carrots… does he like apples too?" Willy asked.

"Apples, carrots, and orange peels — when you can find them," Athos said and chuckled when Roger searched his other pocket.

The rooster crowed. The chickens abandoned their roosting locations and once again entered the garden and the yard and scratched for bugs. Foals jumped and played while mares grazed in the pastures behind the stables. A few head of Devon cattle, imported from England, chewed their cuds and lay on their sides as the sun's early morning rays warmed their dark red hides. Spring had indeed arrived.

"Orange peels?" Willy shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised," he pointed toward Duff, "I caught him in the garden eating Monsieur Henri's cabbages last fall." He leaned forward and looked at Athos, and then tilted his chin toward Roger. "Are you leaving him here?"

Athos nodded, took a deep breath, and said, "Yes… he's too old for soldiering and he deserves to live the rest of his life in peace." There was a sadness to Athos' voice that would have been recognized by Aramis and Porthos, but it was missed by the boy who saw a soldier simply doing the right thing by his trusted steed. Part of being a good partner was understanding when things needed to change, when the working partnerships ended, no matter the cause. Roger had been that partner. When Athos was too unbalanced to continue riding the big black, he simply stopped walking to prevent his rider from falling. Those long nights on guard duty when the enemy lay hidden within the darkness, it was Roger who perked his ears forward to alert Athos something was amiss. Or those days after Anne's supposed death when thoughts of self harm manifested through drink and self-deprivation and Athos found himself in Roger's stall, leaning on his horse because friends were too risky to invite into his life. The old boy knew more of Athos' secrets than Anne, Porthos, Aramis, d'Artagnan and Treville combined. He had listened without judgment and simply stood by while his rider and his partner discovered himself as a boy, grew into a man, and found himself a musketeer. Roger had been the constant, a solid companion when everything and everyone else around him failed.

Willy nodded and ran his hand along Roger's neck. "I'm sure I can find him some orange peels."

Roger perked his ears forward and raised his head in alertness. Athos turned and watched as Henri walked toward them. His voluminous blouse fluttered around his arms and his waist as he walked with a severe limp, but it did not slow him down.

"Leave it to my best groom and a King's Musketeer to wake before the day begins," Henri said and took a deep breath as he slowed his gait. "I was afraid I had offended you, Athos, when I said I only had one mount for you to consider."

Athos shook his head with a frown. "No, on the contrary, I'm grateful you have at least one."

"I truly have three, but I want you to see the horses I think you'll be most impressed with first." He looked at Willy and grasped his shoulder. "Fetch Nezat."

Willy nodded and hastened toward the end of the stables and turned to the left.

Athos stepped away from Roger's stall when the big horse went back to his hay and walked with Henri toward a large empty corral. Henri leaned forward, kicked his left foot onto the bottom rail, and rested his forearms on the fence. Athos looked across the pasture and watched two foals run and buck.

"My horses are good quality, good confirmation —"

"King Louis has an eye for good horseflesh, Henri. If your horses are good enough for him, they're good enough for anyone." Athos turned and watched Willy jog to keep up with the stallion he led from the back of the stable.

Nazat was tall, sleek, and trotted with high knees and he arched his neck and snorted as Willy struggled to keep up. The horse perked his ears forward and looked toward the pasture and the mares that grazed. He tossed his head, and finally relaxed once Willy tightened the tension on the lead and led him into the corral. Nazat danced to the side as the gate was closed and Willy released the lead from the halter. Immediately, the horse arched his long neck and trotted from one side of the corral to the other. The sound of his shod hooves striking dirt echoed, and he snorted again and flung his head as his mane fluttered. He wasn't just beautiful; he was stunning. But he resembled a beautiful woman more concerned about her appearance than her character.

Athos wasn't looking for a horse to impress those he worked with. He wasn't after beauty or spirit. He leaned forward and grasped the top rail with his hands and studied the animal's movements. Athos wanted a partner, and though it was unfair to compare him to Roger, there was an air about Nazat that sent warning bells through him. "You cannot deny the horse's presence."

Henri chuckled and watched Nazat kick and raise his head and snort as Willy approached him. "You don't sound impressed?" He looked at Athos in question.

"If I were the king looking for breeding stock," Athos said, "he would impress me."

Henri nodded and motioned for Willy to return the horse to his stall. "Bring out Tetu."

Willy nodded and clung to the lead as Nazat sidestepped and danced as they returned to the stables.

Henri cleared his throat and folded his fingers together and circled his thumbs. "I have a feeling you've been persuaded by beauty before?"

Athos didn't look at him, but nodded, and watched a flock of birds jump and flutter around the base of an old oak tree near the edge of the garden. He could smell the scent of Eva's cooking as she opened the door and then tied the window shutters open. He turned and watched Willy lead a tall bay gelding toward them. The horse perked his ears forward, swatted his tail as the flies made their appearance with the warming of the day. Tetu's footing was sure, long legs and pasterns would ensure a smooth ride. He was tall with a short back and a long belly, qualities Athos looked for in a trusted mount.

Willy led Tetu into the corral, released his lead, and watched him walk to the opposite side of the fence and look out toward the pastures. He sniffed the ground and looked at those who stood watching him.

"Get him moving a bit, William," Henri said.

Willy nodded, walked to the center of the corral, and whistled. Tetu tossed his head and walked to his right and when Willy flung the lead, he picked up his pace and trotted.

"He's young, only four, but he's solid and well mannered." Henri scratched the back of his head and watched Tetu move into a gentle lope.

Athos admired the horse's movements and gentle gaits. He crawled through the fence and the big horse stopped. Athos ran his hand along the horse's neck, back, and hip. Tetu stood still, cocked his hind left hoof and flickered his ears. Not an overly motivated animal, he seemed content to allow Athos to walk behind him, check his feet, his legs, and even his teeth. Athos couldn't deny the horse's quality. He was well built, strong, and docile, but he lacked personality.

Athos scratched the back of his head and walked to the fence. Tetu never moved. Willy hooked the lead to the halter and nodded to his employer, who opened the gate and watched the pair walk back to the barn.

"Those five mares?" Henri said and pointed toward the grouping that stood grazing near the creek's edge and just beyond the oak tree. "Two are German bred, and the others come directly from Spain." He leaned back against the fence. "If all five take… you can have your pick. One foal next summer, and one each summer for the following two years." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Athos, who had yet to crawl back through the fence. "You're never going to replace him. A good horse is like…" he paused, scratched his grizzled jaw, and then shrugged his right shoulder, "finding a perfect woman: beautiful, patient, dedicated, and honorable." He glanced to his left and looked at Athos, who nodded, but remained quiet. "The stallion that helped me build this herd, this stable," he pointed toward the oak tree, "is buried there. I've never had a better horse." He smiled fondly. "And I never will again."

"I have no doubt of the quality of horseflesh." Athos shifted against the fence, placed the ball of his foot on the bottom rail, and tilted his chin toward the lone horse in the corral. "Young Master William said you call that one Duff?"

Henri quirked an eyebrow. "He's not from my horses' bloodlines and I don't have documentation of his breeding."

"Is there a reason he's separated?"

"He opens the stall doors of the horses next to him," Henri chuckled, and pushed himself off the fence. "If you're not looking for a horse of breeding?" he said and watched Athos crawl through the fence. "Then you might consider him for a remount. I make no guarantees since he's not of my stock, but," he shrugged and walked with Athos toward the pen, "you're welcome to him."

Athos stood next to the fence and watched Duff walk toward him. He sniffed at Athos' pocket and nudged his hands with his nose. Athos quirked a smile and ran his hand along the horse's neck. Bloodlines or not, the horse was beautiful, curious, and walked in step with Athos as he walked around the corral. Duff walked beside him, lifted his head and perked his ears forward as birds flew, foals played, and young Willy continued his duties as a groom.

Athos stopped. Duff stopped with him and waited patiently for his next cue. Even without a halter, he stood beside Athos and then cocked his hind hoof when Athos ran his hands over his legs, back, and along his rump.

"He's young, maybe five or six," Henri said. "He arrived with a herd of horses I purchased from a German breeder. He was the only one without a pedigree," he raised his hands in acknowledgment, "I know… it's only been recently that certain breeders are documenting bloodlines, but I am one of them." He smiled and then rested his elbows on the top rail.

Athos turned, looked at the horse, and nodded. He wasn't Roger, but there was something about him he liked. Not unlike his relationship with Porthos or Aramis… their friendships had been nearly instant, despite the odds and Athos' own self detriment at the time. There was just something about Duff Athos liked. He looked at Henri and asked. "Is he broke?"

Henri nodded. "Saddle him up." He slapped the top rail with his hand. "I'll have William ready the king's mares… Duff will manage them."

Athos nodded. "I'll take him."