27th May with the provosts

They were just going to leave? Newbury blinked and stared at Captain Vickery. He couldn't be serious.

"But sir..."

"There isn't anything I can do for her, Newbury. She isn't on the strength, after all." He wished it were otherwise, he really did, but as things stood, there was nothing he could do for the poor woman.

That was true, but Newbury hardly cared. "Still ain't right, sir."

"I didn't steal that food, sir. Portuguese woman traded it for a lace handkerchief," Jenny said, the faintest glimmer of hope rising in the face of Vickery's reluctance.

Probably not a good thing to say... after all, where had the lace handkerchief come from?

A lace handkerchief? Stephenson lifted an eyebrow. "How's that, then?"

She looked up at the provost defiantly. Bastard. "She admired my handkerchief and I traded it for some bread and meat. Is that so hard to comprehend?" Fat headed prick.

"There is no need either to tie her up or to kick her when she is down," Vickery pointed out. "And everyone has to live somehow, don't they?"

Stephenson managed, somehow, not to scowl.

"Dunno 'bout all that," he grumbled.

"That is what it looked like to me," Vickery said.

"They kicked me all over sir," Jenny assured him, looking up with fearful blue eyes. "I only ran because I was frightened of what they said they would do to me."

"It was only fair, wasn't it?" the provost said. "She gave us a good coupla whacks her own self."

"Because you threatened my honor!" she retorted. "My virtue - a defenseless woman!"

Stephenson snorted derisively. "Lass like you don't got any virtue."

Vickery nodded. "Newbury, you stay here with her. Cotton and I will be up with the Thirty-Third looking for Lieutenant Wiffort."

"Yes sir." Newbury eyed the three provosts angrily. Just let them try anything now...

Vickery twitched at Brandy's reins. "Come on, Cotton, there isn't anything else we can do here right now." Hopefully he could have a word with their officer and get them reined in a bit. They had gone too far.

Jenny watched sullenly as they departed. Bloody typical. Officers were all alike, even the decent ones. She would have to try other methods of persuasion. Though it felt awkward to play a role under Newbury's scrutiny. She turned to the nearest provost, pleading.

"Please, I won't do it again. It was a trade, a barter instead of buying, that's all. I'll apply to the commissary for a ticket next time. I'll do anything you say. Please, what's going to happen to me?"

Lambert finally spoke up, as Vickery was leaving. "Don't know. Maybe a floggin'. Maybe nothin', you really as innocent as you say." He glared at the Rifleman that had been left with them.

"Or maybe sommat else," Stephenson growled. Now that the officer was gone, they could carry on with their business. This pathetic excuse for a Rifleman he'd left behind would be no trouble. The man could barely stand up straight.

"Let's us go for a walk," he added, with a nod toward Sykes, who had come up behind the Rifleman. "This fellow can... come along too."

"They wouldn't flog me," Jenny said with more confidence than she actually felt. "And I can walk just fine on my own if you quit pulling." She looked over her shoulder at Joe, meeting his eye for the first time. Hell.

His lip curling into a derisive smirk, Sykes placed one hand on the rifleman's back and shoved him forward hard. "Go on. Keep up with yer lady friend."

Lambert slid his foot out in front of Newbury, just as Sykes shoved him.

Jenny watched in anger, too slow to move. "Stop, damn it!"

There was no hope of avoiding either the shove or the leg. Newbury simply gritted his teeth and tried to shift his weight onto his good leg as he went down.

"Bastards," he growled, managing to catch himself partially with his hands. The provosts laughed.