24th May, south of the Douro

When Jenny awoke in the morning, she was as usual uncertain of her surroundings. But as usual, she lay perfectly still while listening and thinking, trying to remember. Opening her eyes, she could see that she was in a tent. No, not a tent, for that was a blanket up above and there was a draught coming in from the side. Now she remembered that she was lying next to a cart, almost under it, with a blanket rigged to the side for some small shelter from the rain.

She remembered that most of the soldiers had crossed the river yesterday, but their provisions had not. She also remembered one or two amiable surgeons whose patients she had cheered in her own marginal way. Now was an ideal time for them to show their gratitude. Now was the time for breakfast. At last she sprung from her blanket, spurred on by the surprising smells of coffee and bacon.

"Coffee?" Newbury asked when he saw who had roused. It didn't surprise him to see that it was Jenny. Taken her long enough, he thought with an inward grin. He had been up for ages, or so it felt, unable to sleep much because of his newly-stitched side.

He held out a tin mug and wondered why she'd stayed with the medical wagons. The baggage train wasn't that far off, was it?

"Joe!" she exclaimed sounding pleasantly surprised. She took the mug from him without demure. "Where'd you get coffee? I didn't know you liked coffee." She sat down beside him, close to his fire. "Have you got food too, dear?"

"One of the sawbones," he answered. "There's bacon here too, and some stuff the sawbones says is bread."

"Forget the bread, just give me the bacon," she muttered hungrily between sips of coffee. "This is actually good." She looked at him askance. "Did the footmen make coffee in your grand house, Joe?"

He passed over several pieces and ignored the quiet grumble in his own stomach. "Master's valet did, sometimes. It was somethin' for Cook to look to though. We was only allowed to serve it out."

Which didn't, of course, account for the fact that he'd managed somehow to make the coffee this morning. Newbury forced a shrug and broke off a hunk of bread. It didn't really matter to him where any of the meagre breakfast had come from, really, as long as he got to eat.

She smiled at him over her bacon but said nothing until she had devoured two crisp pieces. "You get this from the surgeons too? I must remember to follow them closely. I had no idea they ate such fine breakfasts." She sidled over and linked her arm through his, the arm that wasn't holding coffee.

"Ehm..." Despite himself, Newbury blushed. "They like eatin' well, them sawbones," he answered, instinctively being evasive. The sawbones hadn't necessarily been willing to give out provisions. Newbury had simply taken some little liberties with their stores.

"Sho I shee!" Jenny mumbled through a mouth of bread. She extricated her arm and looked at the rifleman. "Took good care of you, did they? Got you sewed up and all?"

He nodded, somewhat jerkily. " 'Nother set of stitchin', which they says I better not tear out somehow this time." With a mildly sheepish smile, he sipped at his coffee and privately wondered how long it would take for him to accidentally pull one or more of the stitches after he rejoined his company.

"I could sew you some gussets in there. Hold you all together for the rest of the war. One there and one there."

"Gussets?" Newbury asked, staring. What was he, a bolt of fabric?

She smiled but did not elaborate. Instead she turned and looked at the tents being struck and the wagons loaded, the surgeons' camp here and the baggage behind. "Will we be crossing the river soon? Did they finish the bridge? I've got to take a donkey across."

Women were devilish creatures, Newbury decided. He folded another bit of bread into his cheek and shrugged. "Hopefully soon. Mister Todd said the engineers been workin' half the night, so there's prolly a passable bridge by now."

She neither knew nor cared who Mister Todd was, as long as his information was reliable. "I'd best load up then. I'm not used to loading a donkey, and still a bit slow. Thanks for the breakfast, Joe. You're a lamb."

"You're welcome," he said, trying not to blush even as he managed a smile. "D'you... I can help with the donkey, if you want. Since I'm goin' across the river too and all. With the wagons."

Well done babbling, he thought. Idiot!

She squinted speculatively, sizing him up as a beast of burden. "Can you be lifting things without those gussets in your side?"

Again with the gussets... "Can't hurt to find out," he answered gallantly.

That comment made her laugh. "It most certainly can if you tear your stitches again, you great dolt. The donkey's back there," she concluded with a grin, leaving him to clear up the fire and the rest of his own meagre baggage.

"It don't hurt that bad," he muttered, mostly to himself. Then he shrugged, finished off his coffee and bacon, and stood up to kick dirt over the little fire. All he had to carry was his pack, which wasn't especially easy to slip onto his back, but he managed.

The donkey didn't look too pleased, he thought when he went to rejoin Jenny.

Jenny herself looked a bit skeptical, eyeing all of the bundles and boxes that Maggie had unloaded from the animal the night before. "I don't know how these things fit on there," she admitted.

That was a right mess, wasn't it? Newbury stared at the little pile of baggage and wondered if it was possible to find Miss Evans so they could ask her how in blazes they were supposed to pack the donkey.

"Maybe the biggest things first?"

"That's sense," Jenny agreed. "This box of - of whatever it is. It has the straps too."

"It does." Newbury slung his rifle and reached for one of the boxes. "Maybe they goes together?"

It took some doing, and not a little frustration when something didn't fit where it was placed, but eventually the whole lot was securely packed onto the harassed-looking donkey.

Newbury pulled off his shako and scratched his head. "That weren't half bad," he said with relief.

"Most finely done. Thank you, dear." Jenny looked into her own pack and produced her thanks. "Here, have an orange. Compliments also of the surgeons and their excellent larders." Her smile had a hint of mischief as she handed him the fruit.