Fourth Night in Camp

"I dunno, Maggie, I can't see. And ain't any point changin' 'em just yet; fresh bandages'll stick as well."

Though changing them then would hurt more, of course. "Maybe you better had change 'em, though."

He looked up at the Hussar got to his feet and bid them farewell. "Night then, mate," he said.

"Back to the wagon then? I wonder where we can get a light."

"The Captain's got a lantern, if'n you don't mind axin' him. I'm sure he won't mind when he knows why."

"Oh." She looked hesitant a moment, but she supposed it had to be done. "All right, I'll go and ask him. Will he be in his tent, you reckon?"

"Reckon so, lass. He don't bite, you know. I promise he don't."

She gave him a wry smile. "All right. Wait here then."

"Ain't got much choice, have I, lass?"  It was comfortable here - well, as comfortable as it was possible to be with a back flogged raw.

She left him with a grin, but her face grew a little more anxious as she drew near to the captain's tent. She could hear slight noises inside indicating that the captain was there, so she cleared her throat and called to him. "Captain Vickery, sir?"

"Come in," he called, lowering his book, though he kept a finger in it to mark his place. "Maggie.  What can I do for you?"

She clasped her hands behind her back as if unconsciously showing that she did not intend to touch anything. "Captain Vickery, sir, I was wondering if I might borrow a lantern for a little bit, so as I can see to change Gabriel's bandages." That came out pretty well. Sober and calm and to the point.

"Change his... How is he?" Vickery put the book down as he spoke, concern showing on his face.

"He's fine sir," she answered automatically. "Well. As fine as can be expected."

"And you're looking after him. Thank you for that."

"I'm glad to, sir," she answered, smiling down at the ground.

"It can't be easy for you, I know," he said. Keeping her here just seemed to be making her more nervous and he relented. "Certainly you may borrow a lantern, Maggie."

He picked up the lantern on the table and held it out to her.

She nodded and smiled as she reached out to take it. "Thank you, sir. I'll bring it back as soon as ever I'm done. Won't be long."

"You look after him for us, won't you, Maggie? And if there's anything else I can do, let me know."

"Thank you sir. I will." She smiled shyly as she left. That hadn't been so bad.

She found Cotton where she had left him at the fire. "Ready? Do you want to lean on my shoulder? And I'll hold the lantern in this hand. It's too bad the surgeon didn't bring the wagon closer to us for a shorter walk. Maybe tomorrow... Oh, how stupid of me! I forgot water!"

It was dark now, and the memory of two nights ago still made her shudder, especially considering that the voice had almost certainly been that of Obadiah Hakeswill. She did not relish the thought of going to fetch water alone in the dark, even this early at night, but she would certainly need some to bathe his wounds (and perhaps the bloodied shirt and shawl).

"There's water in a pot over near the fire some'ers," Cotton said. He didn't want to have to shift a minute before he needed to. It was nice to see his mates again, and very pleasant by the fire. And moving made his back hurt. Still, if she wanted him to move, he'd have to.

"Oh good. They won't mind? I'll go ask Jacklin, all right?" With careful manipulation, Maggie managed to carry the water and the lantern as well as offering a supporting shoulder to Cotton as he walked beside her back to the wagon. There was indeed blood on the shawl, and more on his shirt, and after infinite careful peeling off of the shirt, there was more blood to be seen soaking through the bandages.

"Oh Gabe, what a mess," she said with compassion in her voice.

"You... you don't have to do this, you know," Cotton said, wanting to be able to spare her.

He knew it was a mess; he could feel it every time he moved his arms, or went to shrug, or any one of a hundred other things.

"I know, I know. I don't mind. And now the question - how to get them off? It's very neatly done up, I must say. How did he do that? Should I try to unwind them? No, that will probably hurt more. I think If I can cut them, that will be easier. Will you reach over and hand me - oh, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting!" She reached across for her sewing box where she fished for a suitable pair of scissors. "All right, hold still."

"If you unwind them, 'stead o' cuttin' them, like, you can wash them an' use them again later," Cotton said, eyes widening a little at seeing the scissors. "It won't hurt too much, 'cause the blood ain't dried." Well, he didn't think it had dried, anyway.

"I could sew them up, too. But if you're sure it's ok, we can at least try it." It was awkward, reaching around and around him to peel the bandages and trying to avoid the painful spots. And although life as a camp follower was far removed from the usual life of an Englishwoman - how many times had she seen men bathing, friends and strangers that she slept beside - there were still boundaries of propriety. Boundaries which might be crossed, certainly, but boundaries that Maggie understood and acknowledged. She forgot about emotional awkwardness though when she reached the layers of dried blood. "Hmm, I don't think I can separate these layers. They're stuck together, and if I try to separate them from each other I think they'll more likely separate your skin from you. Maybe if I hold it taut... Can I put my hand here?"

"Yes." It was nice of her to ask, even if he just wanted her to get on with it. She'd seen him earlier, without so much as his shirt on, never mind a waistcoat or jacket. Where she put her hands was almost the least of his worries. He just wished she could make the pain stop.

"Even if... if you cut them, you've got to peel 'em off somehow," he said, clenching his fist in his lap to try to contain way the pain wanted him to react.