Fourth Night in Camp

"Not exactly." He smiled bemused at the notion:" I've finally received my better half." He chuckled softly and nodded in the direction where Bella stood and mulled at the small bout of hay.

"But they've decided I were fit to join you on t' pay list for the time being." He motioned towards the camp fire.

"I hope I do not intrude. But if there's a spot free, may I join you?" He spoke politely, while his movements were gallant and smooth, unlike a rowdy ol' criminal turning soldier, but certainly not like some prince. All this marred only when he walked and limped.

"O' course you can," Cotton said, with characteristic generosity. Willoughby, what little he'd seen of him, was a puzzle. He was different from most of the rank-and-file, even cavalry.

"So what have you been up to today, then?" he asked, accepting the cup of tea Maggie brought him.

"Mostly settling myself in." He nodded a polite greeting to Maggie then sat himself down after she would have, easing his injured leg down first. He grinned adjusting his pelisse that he wore to keep himself warmer.

"Reported to captain Vickery, done some riding alongside the column. Delivered messages. Had to test Bella's temperament to know her muscle to mind. She's quite a lady."

He shrugged lightly: "Does feel fine to be back with the living." He looked to the man and glimpsed to his back, covered gently by Miss's shawl. "How did you fair? With.." His smile carried traces of concern in it.

"Only got fifty afore the Colonel said to stop it, but it still hurts. Hurts worse if I move wrong, too." He looked rueful. "Still, that's what it's like if you'm a soldier. But I'll be up and about properly soon, and then I'll get back to work. Does a body no good, to be stoppin' in one place all the time, doin' nothing."

He smiled. "Though Maggie managed to keep me busy. She's bin learnin' me to read."

Maggie smiled back at him. "And a very good student he is, too. And you must be our wandering hussar?"

"Quite what I was telling the surgeon. And he near wanted to hear none of it! But's different if you're riding. T' horse takes half of your weight you would need to carry. So he saw reason then." He grinned. "Can't keep a horseman of a horse for too long."

He smiled warmly to Miss Evans:" Indeed the very one, ma'am." Polite as if he were at an event to call for it.

"Oh, reading have you?" He smiled again, showing that he were impressed even if he himself was an able writter and reader from a good young age.

" An excellent way to make use of the time. Very smartly miss."

Cotton was back. The word had passed swiftly through the 60th's camp and Newbury was quick to ladle out another bowl of stew. He'd already sent one with Maggie Evans, but that was when he figured Cotton would still be near the surgeon's waggon. Having that Rifleman back with the regiment, even for an evening if that was the case, deserved a second helping of dinner.

"Heared you was back, Cotton," Newbury said cheerfully as he got near, the steaming bowl and an extra crust of bread in either hand. "Brought ye another bit of stew too. Always does right, fresh hot stew!"

And there was the hussar again. Newbury grinned at the boy. "Hullo to ye again too, Trooper. Our'n is a right mixed company now, sure! Care for a stew-bowl yerself?"


OOC - Sorry to throw a one-off out there, but I'm going out. Be back by tomorrow morning, with luck! (Newbury's free to be moved about as needed.)

"I would be indebted to you." He answered cheerfully, waved and smiled.
" Certainly would like one, if there's any left!" The scent of the stew was pleasant and inviting, and with an empty belly, it sounded even more appealing.

"An' it's good stew, too. Though I ain't done anythin' to merit gettin' two bowls. Bin riding in a wagon all day, ain't I? Not marchin' like a proper Rifleman ought to."

He grinned as Joe gave one of the bowls to Willoughby.

"That's it. Eat it while it's hot. Tastes better that way!"

"It does, unless you burn your tongue, then the taste is quite forgotten." He spoke a soft thank you to Joe for the bowl, feeling warmth of the stew seep through. He kept it close for a moment, in hands and his lap, enjoying the heat.

After a taste of the stew he grinned:" Well I can give you, this is delicious." And easily he ate then, for as hungry as he was in the past few, the stew did not only do him well to keep warm, but did even better to keep that hunger at bay. And it was a fine bonus that the one who made it, made a darn good job.

Newbury smiled as he watched the other two men tuck into their stew. "Yer back's hardly gonna heal right if ye don't eat proper, y'know. 'Sides which, Ben Jacklin'd be right 'fended if I came back with anythin' other than empty bowls."

He glanced up at Maggie and touched the brim of his shako. "An' how've ye been bearin' up, Miss? Ol' Cotton here ain't bein' too much trouble I hope?" The second question was asked with a broad grin, to show it was asked in jest.

"True, an' we can't have that now, can we?" Cotton was not minded to argue, anyway. The stew was delicious, and Cotton was hungry, and it was good to be back with his mates, even for just a short time. He looked across at Willoughby. "Fine stew, ain't it? Never thought I'd end up sittin' at the same fire as a cavalryman, though." He grinned; there was no malice in the words.

" Fine indeed. Had I known it before, I might have gone for the rifles." It was said all in good spirits, for he knew that the horse's back was his home as much as he knew that the rifles would probably have been as much a controversy to suggest joining as was his present profession.

After a few spoonfuls of stew he couldn't help but grin in turn:" Never thought I'd be doing that either. Mind, with one of you grasshoppers." He paused for some more of the stew before he could speak again.

As he did he was smiling: "You aren't half bad though." No ill feelings, a humbler compliment even and a tease. He held the bowl in his hands and enjoyed it's warmth spreading. "Thanks for helping me out back there." He turned more serious at those words.

"It's a good life, in the Rifles," Cotton said, shifting slightly because of the pain of his back. "An' don't worry, we won't tell on ye, that you came here." He heard the other man grow serious. "I'd've done it again; you looked half dead on your feet."

"Came here?" He chuckled softly:"If you mean to my Hussars, I bet they'll know. Nothin' to be done that way." There may be laughter and may be taunts and teases for a while, but it would have been done all in fair spirits and quickly forgotten when a ride with their horses was to be issued. And then the talk of those animals, of ladies and of sometimes even drink, would take the reins of their conversation.

"But.. otherwise.. here." He spoke of Vickery, for he wasn't sure what Cotton quite meant." They know I'm with the 60th." He motioned lightly to the fire. " Been set with you, " And he hesitated a moment: " with hopes that you do not mind bearing the presence of a horseman, " And continued at even pace:" ..for the time being."

He looked relaxed and nodded to the rifleman, feeling for the man's discomfort. Cotton, a thief? If one look at his face was enough to judge a man's character, then that statement was furthest from the truth. "Oh.. I've felt that way." He chuckled. "Yet I am not to complain, when your back..." He spoke no more, but shook his head.

"I did mean to your Hussars," Cotton said. He was halfway through the second bowl by now, and feeling cosy, warmed within and without by good food and a blazing fire. And with his mates nearby, even the fact he'd been flogged for a thief didn't seem to matter so much, or weigh so heavily on him. Though he was dreading seeing the Colonel again, whether by accident or otherwise.

"They'm good lads, the Riflemen," he said. "I'm sure they'll cope with one horseman. Just so long as the horse sticks to his hay and don't try eatin' out o' our pot."

He shifted again. "It hurts, o' course it does. S'posed to, ain't it? But it could've been worse." It wasn't so much the stripes that hurt as the fact he was thought to be a thief, and marked for life as such. That cut deep.

"I'll be certain of that." He looked to Bella who had by now finished with her hay and was restless. Her ears twitched to the sides, listening for the sounds that came from the darkness of the forest surrounding them. She stomped a foot nervouls here, made a soft sound there and whipped her tail around in annoyance, yet she took it quite well. But so would any horse that had travelled with the regiment thus far.

He felt bemused to remember the horse already trying that though. Not eatin perhaps, but drinking her fill while everybody was distracted with the scene of the young rifleman and the face off of two men. Well, best not note that, the water had been replaced and the horse kept from it later.

"Well it'll heal soon. N' you'll be back with your men then, as is natural." He smiled. He wondered of the man. If he was wrongfully accused the punishment would burn greater than the injury sustained. The reminder of injustice could turn a man into the sinner that he was thought to be. "Has the doctor told you how long more it should be?"

It couldn't heal soon enough, as far as Cotton was concerned. And despite Vickery's reassurance, he was nervous about resuming his position and duties as batman.

"I'm on light duties for a week. I'm in hope that I'll be able to do some of me proper duties after that, if not all of 'em."

He needed distracting, even now, from the dark thoughts he had. "Tell me about y'rself," he said. "Where you come from, what made you 'list." He grinned. "Why you chose to join the cavalry, rather than a fine green jacket like ourn."

He was not quite prepared for the questions that poured from Cotton's mouth, so that he chuckled in awkwardness lifting his hand light up as if in surrender, playful yet true.

"Oh where now to start." He placed his hand low on his knee and took a deep breath. With the Hussars they rarely discussed much beyond horses and women, and any of the wild adventures they were in, surely they sometimes dreamt of home but it was vague, distant. An ideal rather than place.

"m' not interrogated am I?" He teased and leaned back, the bowl now empty and left in his lap, balanced and safe. "Now, you cannot say our own are half as dashing." He was proud of his pelisse and dolman and the uniform itself through and through. "But nay... I haven't joined for the looks, nor the fame of our men." He grinned and motioned to Bella with his hand making a soft arch and a proper light turn.

"The horses." He permitted a moment for his answer to sink."You might think it strange, but it was them that had me look to cavalry, 'stead of other careers." He couldn't quite say that he would have been able to buy himself a commision, a proper one, any place but there.

"You know, I'll hold you to answer those questions, a favour for a favour." He grinned, debating what he could say. The truth or one fainter in comparision. Excusing the details, and allowing a rifleman's mind to wander, But first. "I knew that I'd go for the cavalry, yes.. but the reasons... It was in my heart and my mind. As natural as it is to breathe. You'd say..a man has a destiny he ought to follow. I'd say, we make it our own. And I did." He did allright, by fleeing from home as if he were haunted by an army of headless riders. Born in the kind of family where destiny was that of an officer not this.

Now it was finally time for the last question or rather the one which had been said first:"...A land of greenest forests, n' loveliest fields. My home." He chuckled.

Cotton grinned. Not quite a straight answer, but enough.

"Me, I come from a village in Eas Kent that you'm never even heard of," he said, giving the empty bowl back to Joe Newbury. "And it was after the Squire died, and his son had taken a dislike to me, and had me an' me family turned out o' our cottage. So I went along to the hirin' fair in the nearest town, when it was held a week or so later, to try to find work. Couldn't find nothin', but a recruitin' sergeant found me. So I was a redcoat for a bit, then got a new Captain who asked if I'd ever heard of the Rifles, 'cause the 60th was lookin' for recruitin' some of us. And here I am."

"Must be a fair different life with the rifles, eh?" He noticed a few particular details himself. Not that he was an expert by far. A novice as green behind the ears about them, as was the colour of their uniforms. " heard t' riflemen accept men of a keen eye and a fine shot. Reckon, you came there with that in your pouch as well?" He felt somewhat guilty. Almost as he were a spoilt child who had it all, but had to throw it away for some mindless adventure, while the man he had spoken with was a mature lad whose life had made him try to make the best of it.

As many times before he learnt of the life that wasn't as kind with the people, and learnt their faces, names and hopes. It was much different than seeing a face passing, never remembering, never caring.

"Aye, it's different. I reckon it's better. And I'd show you how keen my eyes is, if it was still light enough to see. And aye, I'm a good enough shot. It's easy enough, once you have the trick of it."

He didn't really think of the past much. Oh, he'd told Maggie, because she'd made him remember, and had asked about it, but there was nothing he could do to change things and he was happy enough here. And he'd written home, so they knew, finally, where he was.

"Well then, when it's light I hope to see you prove the rumours as certain and true." He smiled." Were yourself be ready or it, and otherwise permitted." He felt strange with no weapon that would fire and a crooked one that didn't even fit in it's scabbard. He was satisfied with his position as a messenger amongst the men, yet he was not the kind to sit and watch, or ride the opposite way of the fighting happening. So it was almost as if he were naked, when his weapon was not there to aid him.

"This may be straying far from our conversation." He admitted, most at peace now, unlike Bella (with a B name ;P) who may have been more happy if she was back with the other horses, rather than surrounded by dark and green.

"But, could I possibly borrow a sewing packet from you 'tleast to try and mend the worst here." Or should he know one of greater skill than a hussar, who may have been able to do magic with reins, but wasn't quite trained in the ways of the needle.

"Me hussif* is in me pack, back in the surgeon's wagon.  Maggie might have a needle and thread you could use, if you ask her."

There; he was a hussar after all, and Cotton couldn't help grinning that he wanted to smarten himself up a bit.

*housewife = sewing kit

" Ma'am." He turned towards Maggie, and addressed her politely as a lady even if she was most certainly just a mere lass. "May you name your price for a bit of thread and needle, and the time I'll need it in use?" He was wondering if he would be able to ask her for more, a fine hand of a miss could pull thread more delicately and more finely than a coarse one of a man. Even if it had been less tired by years, than those who had actually needed to work much, from when they were wee toddlers.

" Or, were it be finer with you." And he meant both Cotton and the lass:" That you should not wish to part with it, would I be able to persuade you in naming the pay for the pelisse's mending, by your skilled pair of hands?"

He let then the lady decide, time for her to choose as she wished. He turned to Cotton so as to give her privacy with her thoughts and smiled: "I'm not sure they'd want me back, if they saw me in this dreadful state."