27 May; surgeon's wagon

Surgeon. Wagon. Right. He knew that. Newbury blinked slowly and registered the captain's next words. Stay in the wagon. Now that hardly needed orders. He doubted he could leave the wagon even if he was of a mind to, it hurt so badly to move.

"Ain't goin'... no place," he croaked and closed his eyes again. Dammit but he was still tired.

"Oh, yes sir," Jenny said, answering the captain's question. "They knocked him down almost right away. Poor man," she added offhand. "I don't really know why they wanted to fight."

"So if he was on the ground already, it must have been you who stabbed him," Vickery said. "Pye was nowhere near you, and even if he had been, he had no reason to be. Besides which , they weren't laying into him the way they were kicking you and Newbury. He'd managed to aim his rifle at them, after all."

"Me?" She shook her head with a gentle frown. "No, I was on the ground too, and my hands were tied. Well you know that, you loosed them for me I think - thank you. It must have been one of the provosts. They'd already taken his bayonet when they started arguing with each other." Then she laughed. "Though I can't say as I'm sorry for the man. I've had some rough customers in my time - begging your pardon, sir - and a woman does get tired of boorishness. Riflemen would never treat a woman that way, at least not the riflemen I've known."

"You think one of the provosts stabbed his own friend, using the sword-bayonet of a Rifleman rather than his own side-arm?" Vickery's eyebrow went up. Maybe one of them had, but he doubted it, just as he doubted that Jenny Ross would ever confide in him exactly what had occurred in those minutes when he had been in conversation with the provost officer.

She shrugged. "I didn't see it, so I don't know. I just heard the awful screams."

Vickery could well believe that. "So, what would make them consider Newbury to be such a threat that they would knock him to the ground and start kicking him? For I fail to see how an injured man could have posed any sort of threat to three healthy soldier, or why he would wish to, indeed."

She shook her head. "Afraid I don't really know, sir. You'd have to ask him that, or the provosts themselves. I was busy trying to work out my bargain, you see." She looked down at the dozing rifleman. "Maybe they just didn't like him. Or thought he'd be a peeping tom."

He was no closer to answering the question 'why' than he had been after it had happened. "Well, they are under arrest now, so you need not fear any further danger from them." He glanced at Newbury. "Would you be willing to testify against them at a court-martial? This state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue, after all."

"Me?"

"Yes, Miss Ross. You. You were there, after all, which I was not, and I could hardly testify myself anyway, as I am the one bringing the charges against them."

"Apples," Newbury muttered, shifting a little in his laudanum-hazy sleep.

She looked into his eyes with frankness. "Captain Vickery, I hardly think my testimony is going to affect this state of affairs, as you call it." She spared the rifleman a tired glance. "Maybe he'll be more helpful to you."

More helpful? Unless he woke up soon, and saw Vickery as something more than a hallucination brought on by the abuse he'd taken and the laudanum he'd been dosed with, that was something Vickery rather doubted.

"You are perfectly at liberty to refuse to testify. However, I am very concerned that if we do not deal with these men, once and for all, they will be back, using and abusing what little power their position affords them. And there is nothing I detest more than someone who mistreats others simply because his position allows him to."

He glanced at his Rifleman, almost sure he had seen the man stir. Maybe he was coming around, though he wasn't going to appreciate the pain of regaining consciousness.

She shrugged. "Three provosts won't make much difference to me. But why don't you talk to Newbury here. Newbury? Newbury, wake up. Captain's here."

He didn't rouse or show any sign that he'd heard at first, but then he stirred and offered a bleary "Wha - ?"

She poked his bandaged side. "Wake up!"

That got his attention, the sudden jolt of pain cutting neatly through the layers of fog shrouding his brain.

"Hell's that for," he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"If you would help in testifying against them, it may well be a great service to Newbury," Vickery remarked drily. Behind her, Newbury stirred and groaned. "Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, Newbury. I am sure there is no need for that, Miss Ross. We don't want him to regret waking up any more than he doubtless already will."

"He'll be fine."

"Where's the living, sir..." Newbury shook his head, very gingerly, and managed to sit himself up. He was not back in the Forest, dammit. "Sorry sir. Bit of dreamin'."

At least his tongue felt more normal. That counted for something. The Rifleman rubbed tenderly at his aching side and asked, "What'd you need, sir?"

That was him awake then. She turned to the captain. "I'm just going to go outside, get a bit of fresh air," she said breezily, sliding herself towards the door. "You can talk to your rifleman while I talk to that surgeon, ask him how long I have to stay here. Excuse me, sir."

What? Newbury forced the warm fogginess away with an effort.

"You leavin'?" He asked in confusion.

"Yes, as you can see. Good evening, Captain."

Something like bewilderment came onto Newbury's bruised face. He wasn't comprehending the situation, due in part to the fact that he only just woken up.

"Sir?" He looked toward Captain Vickery, assuming the officer would have the answer, since he had clearly been there at the wagon for some time.