27 May; Pursuing a prankster

Lavinia rolled over onto her back, to show her no-longer-quite-so-white belly to the rifleman, in the clear hopes of receiving a scratching.

Matthew had no idea that the rifleman was under any sort of suspicion; he stood, hands in pockets, not far away from Burr while the sergeant inspected the sack, and chatted companionably to Pye. "Good," he said with satisfaction, returning Pye's smile. "I hoped she'd be willing to eat those, but you never know with chickens."

That only proved the dog was useless as anything other a digger. Burr wasn't surprised.

"I reckon ye just happened to do yer diggin' for worms in the same spot's this sack, too," the sergeant commented, holding the sack up so the tar stains on it could be seen.

"Me, sergeant?" Pye asked, as if they hadn't just all been talking about him having done this and that and being the one under suspicion. He looked at the bag, knowing it all too well, as it had been the one with which he had gone to the provost. He shrugged and studied it a while longer. "I dunno where sir... it is not all that easy to see when t' sun starts going ter sleep."

Cotton obliged, giving the dog a proper scratch and belly-rub. He looked up at the Sergeant's words, pausing in surprise. "Are you sayin' he's goin' to have bin so stupid as to... as to do God knows what?"

And get caught, he added, mentally. Oh, Captain Vickery was going to be furious.

"Aye. Seems awful funny, ye havin' pitch an' dirt on yer hands, an' here's a sack all covered with pitch that's been buried." The sergeant affected a shrug. "Then there's that provost yon, what's been tarred an' feathered an' all."

It was far from firmly damning, but it was enough for Burr to consider the Rifleman to be the most likely culprit. He'd have to arrest the lad - or at least send for one of his officers to make it formal.

"I reckon ye oughta siddown, laddie," he added. "So's ye doesn't go nowheres."

Cotton stood up, the dog forgotten. "You ain't got no proof it was him that done it though. One streak of tar that come from... from Heaven knows where. He prob'ly don't even know where it come from, 'cause we've bin up here all day, an' then they go an' lay into a mate of ourn for no reason." He belatedly remembered who it was that he was addressing, and that there was an officer present, and other soldiers. "Sar'nt. Sorry, Sar'nt."

"Why would anyone want ter tar n' feather a provost?" Is careful not to mention anything that Burr has not mentioned himself. If he did not suggest the man to have thorns stuck to his arms, giving him all types of agony, he could and should not have mentioned it himself.

He nearly added that it was a waste of tar and good feathers , but bit his tongue not to sound cheeky. It was bad enough that what Burr said had actually happened and was realised by his very hand. He was grateful for Gabriel's words though he was somewhat worried as Cotton had indeed spoken them in haste , spurred by his frayed temper. He eased a step closer. "They beat our man, sergeant. Beat 'im real bad."

Burr almost smiled.

"Ain't that motive 'nuff?" He asked.

"Wantin' to do summat ain't proof that one partic'lar man done it, though, Sar'nt," Cotton protested, hoping like crazy that he'd understood the word 'motive' correctly. "I mean... Well, if you wanted a officer to stop pickin' on you an then his horse threw him the next day an' he broke his neck, ain't your fault, is it?"

Matthew frowned, looking from Sergeant Burr to Pye and back again. Burr thought Pye was the culprit?

He hadn't had much to do with Pye, but what he had seen, the lad seemed a gentle boy. Matthew couldn't imagine the young man, who had handled his chick with such care and devotion, treating an injured man the way he'd seen in the surgeon's tent. For Peggy's sake, he'd speak up for Pye. "I don't think Rifleman Pye's the sort to go and do that, Sergeant," Matthew put in good faith. Whether or not the provosts had beaten a rifleman - which he'd not heard of before now.

With a shrug, Burr indicated the sack. "Motive, op'tunity... I knowed steady lads to do some right mad things, when one'a they mates was wronged, sir. Alla same. Sit ye down, laddie, an' just ye stay level. There's a man been sent up for yer officer." He looked around for Foster, or failing him, one of those Buffs. That third Rifleman, the crippled one, had yet to be questioned too - even though it was unlikely he had anything to do with this.

Pye looked at Cotton, then he heard what Broderick had to say. He was surprised to hear him speak well of him also. It was Cotton and Broderick both, showing reason why Pye could not have done it. Why the lad was innocent and the evidence circumstantial.

"Wot' oportunity, sergeant?.. don't think all that you mentioned placed on that man grows on trees." No, just one part, grew on a bush, but he wasn't saying that. He looked somewhat more anxious when an officer was mentioned and to that he asked more subtly. "Sergeant... , you've not sent for Vickery?"

"Ye was about with yer chick, aye?" Burr asked. "Means ye wasn't back by yon wagon all evenin'. Aye, I sent a lad off for him. On'y proper 'cause of that provost sayin' it were a Rifleman what done alla that to him."

Vickery was not best pleased to receive yet another request for his presence because of his men. He hadn't headed all the way back up to the Company because of the court martial the next day, but he trusted Lieutenant Brady to be able to keep order.

He found Cotton, Pye and various redcoats, together with, of all things, a cavalry officer, gathered near the surgeon's wagon where Newbury was.

"All right, what's going on?" He looked from one to the other. One of the redcoats appeared to be in charge. "Sergeant, report."

"Sir." Burr straightened to attention and saluted. It was the Rifles officer, with Captain Blackwood close behind him. "There's been an assault on the wounded provost, sir. Tarred an' feathered, an' nettled too. He alleged a Rifleman was responsible an' I went in search of these lads 'cordingly. This 'un got some small streaks of tar on his hands," he indicated the boy, "an' says he was about an' 'round earlier the evenin'. Yon dog also dug this up." He held up the sack.

Vickery resisted the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose, just barely. Pye was suspected of it. "Are there any witnesses? Could the victim identify him?" he asked. "I suppose the man hasn't died, anyway." Or there would be even worse trouble, of course. No man would implicate himself, and what little evidence there was seemed to be circumstantial, rather than actual. But if it turned out that Pye really was guilty, and there was proof, then the provost officer would likely want to court-martial him in return.

"No witnesses, sir," Burr replied. "Entry to the tent was made at the back, under the canvas. I ain't stood either lad 'fore the provost fellow yet, neither."

"Either fellow? You don't mean to tell me that you suspect both of them to have been involved in something as underhanded as that?" He glanced at Cotton, whose mouth had fallen open in shock.

Zachary kept his mouth shut. The arrival of Vickery left the lad actually regretting not taking greater care in removing all trace of evidence of him. Of course he did not regret doing what he did. The provost still deserved it, for beating Newbury so, and for causing distress to Jenny, who would not have her sufferings repaid.

He still felt anxious though. Vickery's opinion mattered, his disappointment was not something the lad wished to see or hear of. And now the implication went out to Cotton as well. The man was daft, the damn provost could have accused the riflemen just because he loathed them too!

Burr was impassive. "In manner of bein' thorough, sir."

"There are four Riflemen behind with the baggage, Sergeant," Captain Blackwood interjected. "Yet I see only two here. I should like an explanation."

"Aye sir. One lad's not 'vailable, 'cause of bein' confined to a wagon. I weren't aware of there bein' four, sir." Burr was not greatly disturbed by this apparent oversight. He was increasingly confident that he had struck upon the guilty party.

"I had to send Jestel back up to tell my Lieutenant of developments here, and that I would be unavoidably delayed until tomorrow," Vickery said. "Even so, to accuse anyone of such a crime without incontrovertible proof... You say there are no witnesses, and the only thing linking either of them to the scene is a streak of tar that may have been picked up quite innocently."

"Mebbe, sir, 'cept for this fellow denyin' it was tar on his hands an' not sayin' anythin' of bein' near some'at with pitch on," Burr said levelly. "He said he'd been diggin' for worms, too. For his chick. This sack here was buried a bit under dirt."

In the circumstances, it didn't leave much else for possible conclusions.

Burr seemed determined to pin it on Pye, and perhaps on the other rifleman as well. Pitch on the hand could look incriminating, but Matthew refused to believe that it was conclusive at all. Both riflemen were keeping silent, without offering anything in their defense. "Rifleman Pye had been digging for worms," Matthew put in, speaking for the first time since the other officers had shown up. Rooting about for earthworms might seem a mad excuse in other circumstances, but it was the truth; it was what Matthew had told the lad to do.

"I advised him to feed them to his chick." He paused for a moment, and then added, realising it might help the rifleman's case, "Earlier today, when he came to see me in the 15th's camp." Nowhere near the surgeon's tents. Of course, he had no idea when the provost had been attacked, but the tar had been mostly dry - it had clearly been some little while ago.

It was la bit like observing a match. A game in which two parties attempted to bring down the other, or in this case it was three against one. Vickery could have as well been the judge as he was the defendant, Broderick's motifs were lost to him, but the man was offering evidence by which he appeared innocent, while most of the accusations were without ground. Even if they discovered thorn, or thorn cuts, could he not have been engaged with them at some point, even while seeking for the worms. It appeared that the sole bad choice of things - though he could hardly have refused the temptation - was the use of tar.

Tar on the man, with feathers sticking out at odd angles was a fine idea at the beginning. Feathers,.. while the men were engaged in conversation, Pye silently felt for his uniform. He couldn't appear to have any of those stuck to him. Though separately they maybe as nothing, together they might add to the puzzle of the investigation. He just hoped that Burr would not turn his cheek towards the other rifleman. He could not phantom it being laid on Newbury. At the very least the man was save in his wagon, save because he was too beaten up to be able for such a thing. He thought that and felt relief.

Cotton might have Maggie to swear for his whereabouts. If he did, as he claimed, he too was good. While silently waiting and listening to the men, he mulled over claims and accusations that could be given, and over what he could say in his own defense. The dog was not searching him out. Good mutt. Did he leave any prints behind? He glanced at his shoes and at the gaiters that were both covered in some mud. Even if he did, how could they proove it was him and not any of the soldiers walking past? Couldn't. What else was there? The bush and its leaves wasn't completely uncommon in the area right? He hadn't bothered to look after finding the first batch. Did he leave anything behind?

Shako he left with his things. He could not remember no thread catching on anything, though he hadn't quite paid attention to that. He wasn't seen but for Jenny, and he doubted that girl would point a finger at him. She was a witness to seeing him there, nearly caught in the act. But she wouldn't speak out. And nobody but himself knew she was there, so they could not call her to witness, unless he mouthed it out that he saw her. There was Maggie to whom he accompanied the girl.But did she see him? She wouldn't say anything. Was there anyone else who could have cought sight of him? He strained his mind to remember the little details.

He didn't take his chick with him, for fear it would chirp and alert the guards. Surely though, that would not betray him? He relaxed. He didn't need to say anything. Just be quiet and wait for it to blow over.

So the redcoat seemed determined to pin it on Pye, and possibly to implicate Cotton alongside him, although he didn't seem as willing to accuse Cotton. Maybe it was simply that there was more evidence to link Pye to the scene. If indeed he'd been at the scene in the first place.

The trouble was that Pye was being accused of the same basic thing for which Vickery was going to bring the two fit provosts to trial: further injuring a wounded man and in such a way that his return to duty would take even longer.

He had also proven himself to act without thinking through the consequences fully, which meant that Vickery wasn't entirely convinced of his innocence, which was not a situation which the officer particularly appreciated. And because of that, he wasn't keen on asking Pye directly what he had been up to, in case the answer confirmed his fears.

The provost officer was going to really enjoy rubbing his nose in this, Vickery was convinced of that.

"So it is entirely possible that he has dirt on his hands from a completely innocent pursuit?"