After the Skirmish

[Gabriel Cotton]

Cotton was tired and thirsty, but his concern for Maggie overshadowed all of that now that the fighting was over, at least for the time being. He leaned on his rifle, waiting for the baggage, now that the column had finally halted for the night. He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble under the smear of powder-smoke. He'd better be able to rinse his face off tonight, even if he couldn't shave until tomorrow. He sighed, deciding to meet the baggage half-way, and picked up his rifle to head down the length of the column past men setting up camp for the night, to where the baggage train was.

He hoped Maggie had been all right without him there. He wondered how she was. At least she'd have had Jenny and the other women there, which was some comfort.

[Maggie Cotton]

It had been strange to know that Cotton was somewhere miles and miles away fighting and advancing, getting further and further ahead, after all the distance Maggie had traveled to reach him yesterday. At least she had been able to be with him for a few hours first. And now the baggage train was finally catching up with the rest of the column. Rumor had spread that their camp had been sighted, and men were coming out to meet their wives and families. She spotted Cotton up ahead obviously looking for her, and she waved. Then, forgetting her weariness and aches, she ran to meet him.

[Gabriel Cotton]

There she was, finally. Only... He swallowed hard. Jenny had told him how hard she'd struggled and how badly marked the ordeal had left her, but to see it in the marks on her face... He had to be strong for her, he knew. She needed him now, after all.

As she reached him, he drew her into an embrace, putting his arms around her to hold her close.

"Oh, sweeting. Maggie, love," he said, running a hand gently over her hair.

[Maggie Cotton]

She smiled up at him with a touching sweetness, marred by the red purple bruises on the right side of her face. "I missed you."

[Gabriel Cotton]

He smiled down into her face, a little sadly. "Missed you too, Maggie." He ran a finger gently around her ear and along her jaw. "Can I... can I kiss you?"

[Maggie Cotton]

"Of course," she answered tentatively. But she caught her breath when he touched her jaw with his fingers. She reached up and slipped her hand into his, pulling it gently away from her face.

[Gabriel Cotton]

He smiled again, and bent his head to gently brush Maggie's lips with his own before straightening up again. "You're safe with me, Maggie, even if you can't believe it right. I wouldn't never do anythin' to hurt you. I promise, sweeting. On me mother's grave, I promise."

[Maggie Cotton]

She sighed with frustration and looked up at him apologetically. "I know, I know that, Gabe, truly I do. I'm sorry. I'm just a little... jumpy."

[Gabriel Cotton]

"I know. But I needed to say it anyway. 'Cause I think, well, mebbe you needed to hear it. Like... d'you 'member when I was flogged, an' I said you should mebbe find someone else, 'cause of me bein' a flogged soldier, an' you tole me to be quiet an' not be silly? I knew you wasn't goin' to go, but you needed to say it anyways." He pulled her a little closer, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her head down to rest against his shoulder. "It's the same as that, see."

[Maggie Cotton]

"I know," she mumbled into his coat. "I just don't want you to think I don't trust you. It's not that. It's - ow!" She hissed and pulled back with her hand to the side of her face, having scraped her cut cheek against his buttons. She had almost forgotten about her appearance, and of course he had probably not seen her properly in the dark last night. "I must look a sight," she said, trying to laugh it off in spite of feeling ashamed. "You'd think I was the one who'd been skirmishing all day instead of you."

[Gabriel Cotton]

"Here," he said, concerned. "I never meant to... I'm sorry. Lemme get me jacket off..." He dropped his hand to unfasten the buttons, unsure of what to say and how to reassure her.

[Maggie Cotton]

"No no, you're fine," she said, becoming more embarrassed.

[Gabriel Cotton]

He smiled and slipped it off anyway, draping it over her shoulders. "You're my girl, Maggie. And... Well, I tole Jenny, last night, that you'm like me. 'Cause... 'cause you'm strong, inside, 'cause you ain't let that... that bastard... win. 'Cause you came back to me." He broke off, looking at her and feeling awkward. "'M sorry, sweeting. I ain't had the schoolin' to be able to say everythin' I want, or think of the best words to use."

[Maggie Cotton]

She pulled the coat closer and looked down at it without speaking. Then she smiled shyly. "I better go get me things. And the donkey."

[Gabriel Cotton]

"I'll come with you," he said, and offered her his arm.

[Maggie Cotton]

She had to fish her arms through the sleeves then, and when her hands emerged she showed him the ring. "I finally got to see it proper when I woke up. It's beautiful, Gabe."

[Gabriel Cotton]

He smiled shyly at her then. "I'm real glad you like it. I had terr'ble trouble tryin' to get the fellow to understand what I wanted." And he'd worried that it wouldn't fit, as well, but it did, and it looked just right on her hand.

[Maggie Cotton]

She stared at it shining on her hand which was now wrapped around Cotton's arm. "I forgot it when I woke up. I mean, I forgot that it was real until I felt it and saw it. It seemed like a dream. Maybe because I was just tired last night when you gave it to me. I'm not even sure I remember what you said..."

[Gabriel Cotton]

"I said... I said that when you gave me your locket to wear, I'd promised you to get summat else. And I said that..." He swallowed, looking away from her and going pink. "I said that if you wanted, when you was ready, it could be a weddin' ring for you. There. I bin an' said it now!"

[Maggie Cotton]

That was what she thought he had said. "But it could only... That would only work if I was to marry the fellow that gave it me in the first place," she said slowly.

[Gabriel Cotton]

He was studiously not looking at her. If he did, he was sure to go as red as the facings on his jacket that she was wearing. "Aye, Maggie, lass. But... you'd have to want to marry him, see, or it wouldn't... wouldn't be right. But you c'n keep the ring, whatever you say. An' you don't have to say nothin', not till you've thought about it."

[Maggie Cotton]

So he really did want to marry her. Thoughts whirred in her head like the works of a clock, independent thoughts spurring on the movement of seemingly unrelated thoughts. Surgeons, roses, camp fires, money, Captain Vickery... She felt dizzy. "Gabe..." It was only fair to warn him, because it could affect him as well. He might change his mind, and he should be allowed to change his mind. "I could still end up with that man's baby."

[Gabriel Cotton]

"I... Maggie..." He stopped and turned to face her. "I know. And, well, what happened wouldn't be the babe's fault. An'... nobody didn't ought to go through life bein' a bastard, if you'll 'scuse me bein' blunt. I wouldn't ask you to... to have a babe out o' wedlock. Nobody didn't ought to ask that, ever. Ain't right, for a woman to have to deal with all that sort o' thing. And, 'sides all that, a kid needs a father to teach him right from wrong, don't he?" He brushed a finger gently over her lips. "You don't have to say nothin' right now. Just... just think it over, an' tell me when you'm ready."

[Maggie Cotton]

She nodded soberly as she looked at him. The whites of her eyes were spotted with red all the time now which made her look like she was going to cry. She did not, however, but reached up to her own neck to pull out the little chain she wore.

"I still have my locket," she said, a bit awkwardly. "Do you want to wear it again? Only if you want to."

[Gabriel Cotton]

He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak at first. "I... I only sent it back 'cause I thought you'd want it, bein' as it was your Ma's," he said, finding his voice. "And, if you was goin' to go back to Lisbon like you'd said, you'd have felt awful bad 'bout not havin' it."

He wished her eyes didn't look so awful; he'd have done almost anything to be able to make them clear again. But bloodshot or not, they were still her eyes.

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