Training Day - Rifle Competition

"Excitin' if she got found out. Though if'n any lass was daft enough to try it, you really think she'd let herself get found out?"

Newbury looked over at Cotton and Miss Evans with plain relief. They had timed their arrival perfectly.

"Miss Jenny's got some high fantasies," he said helplessly.

Jenny seemed to take this as a challenge. "I'll bet you I could do it! If I knew how to fire a rifle, I'll bet you anything I could disguise myself as a boy and no one would ever know. Or - where's Cavender? I could learn to play the bugle, and dress up in his clothes. We could even switch places! Poor Cavender, can't you see him in a dress?"

By now, Maggie could not help but catch her contagious laughter. "You should do it, Jenny. I want a uniform too, now. We could both be riflemen. Captain Vickery would be thrilled with his new recruits."

Cotton couldn't work out which one of those pictures was the more outlandish - the idea of Joe Cavender in a dress, or Maggie and Jenny in trousers and jacket, trying to learn how to fire a rifle.

Maggie laughed up into his eyes. "What do you think, Gabe? Can't you just picture the captain's face?"

This whole conversation was beyond mad. Newbury stared at the two women, unable to comprehend why they found such things so amusing. It was so unnatural.

"Don't think the captain would think too highly of it," Newbury said.

Oh, Joe!" Jenny pouted and leaned on his arm. "Don't spoil the fun. Oh Maggie, look, that man's selling arrufadas. Let's get some!" And with that she pulled Maggie away at a run.

That he wouldn't.

"I dunno where you get your ideas from, I really don't. That's, well, it's all right in songs an' stuff, but real life ain't a song, is it?"

And the two women headed off somewhere else. Cotton looked at Newbury and shrugged. "I dunno, Joe, I really don't."

Wide-eyed, Newbury watched the two women dash off. What strange, flighty creatures!

"I don't know neither, Gabe," he said. "Dead strange, that entire notion!"

"I won't never understand women, Joe. Never know what mad idea they'll think up next."

Something like that was all very well in a song, but life didn't fit neatly into the words of a broadsheet, after all. The whole notion was just... crazy.

Well out of earshot, Jenny whispered her plan.

"You must be joking. You're serious, Jenny?" Maggie shook her head in disbelief, but at the same time, the idea was very enticing.

"But you know how the men go hooting and whistling whenever we walk by! Think of it, walking past them in a man's uniform, and them never knowing we were there. We could blend in like we were invisible. It would be incredible. And such a laugh! Won't they be surprised? Oh, let's do it Maggie, please! You and me!"

Maggie balked. "But... where would be get the clothes and all? Boots and jackets and everything. And caps!"

Jenny laughed. "Trust me. There's not anything I can't obtain. Come on!"

"Maybe we're better off not understandin' them." Newbury shrugged and looked around. The competition should start soon, or so he thought.

"Wonder where those 95th lads are hiding," he wondered with a slight smirk.

Cotton grinned. "Prolly decided they don't like the look of us 60th lads, and buggered off somewheres till it's over."

He grinned. "Wise move, that. Would hate to see 'em embarrassed!"

Carty was drifting about after the display of the skirminshing, and was looking forward to the rifle competition - Hagman would triumph this time, surely! He caught sight of a fair head among the milling people and trotted after it - he owed Jenny an explanation, and he had time before the competition started.

Cotton grinned. "Can't have they poor lads bein' embarrassed by us now, can we?"

(OOC - and this Rifleman's going to find a blanket near a campfire somewhere and get some shut-eye! See you tomorrow!)

It took a while, but Jenny was amazingly resourceful. Maggie was impressed as she followed in her wake, collecting all the necessary pieces of their uniforms. Anyone would think she had been planning this for weeks.

"Jenny, how on earth - have you done this before?"

"Hush Maggie, and hold still. Your hair - you have such a lot of hair."

"You have, haven't you! You've dressed up like a boy!"

"Well, maybe."

"Jenny Ross! When? Have I ever seen you dressed like a boy?"

"Maybe."

"You're lying!"

"Remember that boy in Lisbon, who threw an apple at your donkey?"

"That was you? Jenny! I can't believe... You liar, that was NOT you. You were walking right next to me when it happened!" Maggie gave her friend a shove and nearly upset her precarious coiffure.

"Careful, Maggie! Your hair! Right, I think that's you all sorted."

"Should I have a mustache or something?"

"Mustache! You're just a boy, far too young for a mustache. You're only, what, twelve?"

"Twelve? I'm not twelve, I'm fourteen."

"I'm sorry, dear Maggie, but you're never fourteen. Besides, you can't fire a rifle. It's safer to be a bugler, especially today. But perhaps we can dirty your face up a little."

And so they crept out of the tent - whose tent it was, Maggie had no idea, but Jenny seemed to know her way around. It was strange to look at Jenny in boy's uniform, and she was certain she must look strange herself.

"I wish we weren't dressed like the 60th," Maggie said nervously. "People will recognize us - or not recognize us when they ought to."

"Nonsense! As the 60th we'll know exactly who to avoid. Come on. We're spectators at the rifle competition. Let's go before we miss it all. Now look, see that fellow there? We'll walk right past him and he won't even see us."

"But Jenny, what if somebody stops us to give us orders or something?"

"Then we'll... pretend we don't speak English. Say we're German or something. Come on!"

The 60th were already there, and some of the 95th would perhaps be soon arriving. After a successful skirmish, the Hussar was well interested to see more of the display of the day. it was strangely different from their usual up in the morning, ride or walk for the day, down , set the camps up and sleep. They remained in place that day, perhaps as certain kind of an educational morale boost. he wasn't quite sure why the day was turned in such way but it offered a good promise at least.

He had limped some, leaving his horse with the rest of the King's legion, fed her well, and gave her an early cleaning. When Bella expected to be saddled though, she was given a rather positive surprise of a day of and a treat of fruit as a bonus.

He arrived just in time to see a pair of ladies run past and then disappear somewhere. Coming from the direction that they ran with laughter and bright faces that a man could rarely feel most at ease by, he saw the two riflemen. Cotton , the one who had been flogged, and Newbury, the one who..had also met with the French and with whom they caught a rabbit and went for another.

"Good day." He spoke with a pleasant tone as he approached the two: "Competing, the both of you?" He asked, and then noticed the looks on their faces. They must've been in some way connected to the leave of the girls, and though wishing to know he considered it impolite to get inquisitive about their previous conversation.

Sgt. Grey had been about to find a good spot to watch the rifle competition when his soldiers-planning-mishcief alert went off. You did not stay a sergeant long if you did not pick up the signs for trouble. Two bugle boys of the 60th snuck out of a tent, looked around furtively and started walking towards him, wispering with each other.
Now, what were those two up to?

He took a closer look. Those boys were walking oddly in their ill fitting uniforms, with too tight pants and jackets too loose in the shoulders, but the buttons straining to keep them shut in the front... It could not be, could it?

Trying to get a closer look at their faces, sergeant Grey shouted:

"Oi! You two riflemen!" and beckoned them over.

Newbury shook his head. "Won't do, not a bit!"

And here came that cavalryman, Willoughby. Newbury lifted a hand in greeting as the trooper approached them. "Well hello, Trooper. Gabe here's the one competin'. Sure to do us proud, as ever, he is."

Cotton nodded, proud of the trust Newbury had in him. "Though I dunno for why you ain't takin' part yourself, Joe," he said. "You ain't such a bad shot, you know."

"Cotton is right here, Newbury." The Hussar grinned. "Don't think they have a limit to how many men from a certain regiment can join."

Grimacing, Newbury shook his head. "Wish I coulda, but the sawbones said I was supposed "take it easy" for a bit. 'Sides, I'm probably still deep in it with Cap'n Vickery too. Over huntin' rabbit instead of scoutin'."

Willoughby laughed uneasily:" ..Ah that. .. Surely he would not hold it against you to make him proud.." He placed his hands at his sides. Seems here was another rifleman injured during the battle. He looked well enough though atleast.

"Rather not go 'gainst any orders so soon after it," Newbury said, scowling. His side still hurt, of course, but it was not so bad today. His interest in avoiding Captain Vickery's notice was stronger than his desire to directly take part.