Catching the Column

"Well seeing as you're so close to the general," Jenny said with light mirth in her voice, "do you know when the column will be stopping? I only ask because Maggie needs to sleep," interrupted by a scandalized Maggie trying to hush her, "And I have to confess, so do I. So does Joe, our friend rifleman Newbury. He's still recovering from an injury from Pombal. And I long for a cup of tea, more than anything in the world."

'I'm sorry, but I doubt the column will be stopping tonight. We'll find you a wagon to ride on, I'm sure.'

Both of the young women were silent for a moment, surprised and bitterly disappointed. For herself, Jenny simply wanted sleep, hours and hours of it uninterrupted. But Maggie... "Will they be taking a short rest at all? Only Maggie's keen to see her rifleman - "

"Hush, Jenny!" Maggie hissed. "I'm sure we don't need to bother Captain..."

"Hunter," said Jenny, supplying the name. "You're Captain Hunter, aren't you?"

George ignored the reference to the girl's young man: noticing it would probably discomfit her further. He looked up at Jenny with some surprise:

'Yes, I am. Didn't know I am so famous already.'

She smiled in amusement. "I've met your young follower, that Portuguese boy. Cheeky little beggar, that one."

'Ah. Fernao. Yes, he is quite a character. I hope he didn't give you too much trouble.'

"Oh, Fernao? I know him. He's bought fruit and things from me. I suppose they must have been for you." Maggie was relieved to be given a neutral topic instead of discussing her injuries or personal relationships. But still, she was concerned about Joe and his injury. "I hope Joe's all right. I hope he didn't run into trouble with the provosts. Did he have his ticket on him? I mean his letter from Captain Vickery?"

"I think so," Jenny replied.

'I'm sure your friend will be alright, if tired. Especially, if he does have a ticket on him.'

"He was injured, you see, sir, at Pombal, and Captain Vickery gave him permission to stay behind in Coimbra a couple of days. Along with us. I mean, well not with us, but at the same time as us. Well not with me, anyway, because I was in..." Maggie found that she was talking too much, and now she had talked herself into a corner unsuspectingly.

"She was with the sisters of Santa Clara," Jenny said. "In their hospital."

"Beg your pardon, sir, for rattling on like this." Maggie was glad he could not see her burning face.

'Ah.' George was a little at loss for words, knowing that the girl undoubtedly won't appreciate his prying. 'The sisters took good care of you, did they?'

Maggie swallowed. "Yes, sir."

'Well that's good. And good to have had friends with you, no?'

"Yes, sir."

There was a noise up ahead and they heard Newbury talking with another man. "Joe! Joe, we're here!" Maggie called. "That's our friend, sir. It sounds like he's brought a cart, bless him. We'll be all right from now, sir, if you want to put us down. You've been more than kind."

George slowed down, making the animals do the same. He was going to be cautious until he actually saw the man and was sure he was one of their soldiers. He stared into the darkness.

Newbury had found someone in the baggage train who had a cart. It was a full cart, or very nearly so, but there would be space for Maggie and Jenny to sit on the end with their packs.

"Bless you, Joe, you're an angel," Jenny sighed. She spoke to Maggie. "We'll be able to ride with the baggage for now, and then maybe you can go and see Cotton later on, if they stop for a rest. If you've regained your legs by that time. I know I'm going to sleep for ages. And Joe can go report to Captain Vickery, and he'll tell Cotton you're all right, won't you Joe?"

George relaxed a little, seeing that the man was indeed a rifleman. He started to load the packs off the donkey's back onto the cart, petting the tired animal gently on the neck.

Maggie looked down at the ground uncertainly and then across to the captain. "Will you - Captain Hunter, do you mind helping me again? To get down. Sorry..."

George quickly put down the pack he had in his hands and rushed over to Firebird. 'Of course, Maggie.' He held his hands out to help the girl, then asked. 'But wouldn't you rather go and see Rifleman Cotton now? It'll be quicker on horseback.'

"Oh. Yes! Really? I mean... that is..." She was speechless. Now that she was presented with the prospect, it was a little frightening, and she was embarrassed to have troubled the officer this much already. But she had come this far, and traveled this long, all to see Cotton again. She let her impulse and impatience overcome her usual reticence, speaking quickly before she could change her mind. "Yes. Yes, yes please, sir! If it's not too much trouble, that would be wonderful, thank you." And even if it was too much trouble, he could not back out of the offer now.

George turned to Jenny: 'We'll you be alright then? I'll take Maggie to see Cotton.' He took Firebird's bridle.

Jenny dismounted and looked at Maggie. It was too dark to see much at all, but she could tell that Maggie was excited and eager. "Will you be all right, Maggie?"

"I'll be fine. Go on, get some rest."

"All right then. Thank you, Captain Hunter, ever so much." She reached out to offer her hand, as natural and artless as a lady.

George took Jenny's hand and kissed it lightly. 'You are most welcome, Jenny.' He smiled at her and turned to go, leading Firebird with Maggie on it away.

Jenny watched them go, standing still in surprise. She had only intended to shake hands but... The captain was apparently a gallant.

Maggie gave them a final glance over her shoulder. She realized that in her nervousness she had forgotten to be afraid of falling off of the horse; or perhaps her nervousness about the horse had temporarily driven other thoughts from her mind. But now her mind was fixed on Cotton. "Thank you very much for taking me," she said again. "Is it far?"

'I wouldn't think so, no. We'll be there in no time.' George turned and threw a last smile at Jenny over his shoulder: there was something about that girl he liked. Maybe the fact that like him she seemed to be too individual not to be a little out of place anywhere.