26 May; With the baggage

Oh, for...! Cotton was going to have words with Newbury - and then load him onto the mule along with Vickery's things. It would be the only way he'd be able to say exactly where his fellow Rifleman was.

"You know we'm both got tickets, sir, that've got our names on," Cotton began hesitantly. "What if one of us was to look for him for you, sir?"

Pye looked at Cotton and nodded. Either of the two could search for him. He was relieved that Newbury did not allow himself to be found. If his suspicions were correct, than being hidden was better than being there, caught red handed.

He glanced at the prisoners that were already with the provosts. The two girls had calmed down and now waited rather patiently, muttering between each other.

There was a bland expression on Trooper Giles's face that his officer recognised as a pressing desire to hunt out the errant soldier. Ordinarily, he would send both Giles and Smith on such an errand, but he could not adequately take charge of two prisoners who had proven their willingness to flee, not on his own.

"One of you," he said curtly. "You will go with Giles." He pointed at the younger rifleman, for no better reason than he wanted the boy gone from his sight.

Cotton had opened his mouth to volunteer to go, but the officer forestalled him, and he closed it again. He hoped he could trust Pye to tell Newbury that they only wanted his ticket without saying anything else that might make the provosts even more suspicious.

He glared at the mule, wishing he dared give the look to the Provost instead.

Pye nodded looking at Giles. He didn't like the thought of having the trooper follow him, and the man being on the horse he would as easily keep up no matter if Pye walked fast or slow. He felt nervous then, not wanting to come to the wagon too soon, or to a place where Newbury was, without knowing it was safe.

Without a word to the trooper, he looked in the direction , not of the wagons that Giles had already checked, but in the opposite, of those he had not yet inspected. It would be some more time wasted if anything. He was tempted to lead the man to a river, have him drowned and say that the Portuguese mistook him for the enemy.

As delightful as the idea, and as much as it might solve the problem of one provost, it did not suggest a great amount of chance of success. "Follow me then." He said curtly to the man.

In response, Giles simply clucked to his horse, starting it forward into a sedate walk.

The provosts were coming. Panic. Newbury had managed to hide everything except for the book and snuff box. What the hell could he do with those? He'd seen the lone trooper making his way toward the surgeons and knew he'd be made as soon as the surgeon was questioned.

Panic. Go, move, quick. The snuff box in Newbury's hands felt leaden. Where could he dump this and the book?

Pye led the trooper along the line of rattling wagons and stopped beside each. He called out a simple. "Newbury, needin' you to show your paperslip to our grand fellows , t' provosts." And then he waited, peered in. Took a few moments and stepped away from the wagon.

He could hear Pye calling out for him, some yards away. Bad. There was no sense in answering the hails, not with such incriminating trinkets in his hands. Newbury looked around as calmly as he could and decided the best course of action was to heave the two items back onto the side of the road. Hopefully none of the wagoneers or wandering camp followers would peach on him.

There. A quick smudge of green amidst the off-white and brown and dust. Giles spurred forward, abandoning his supposed escort without hesitation.

"You there!" The trooper bawled. "Stop where you stand!"

He hoped Newbury hadn't done anything really stupid now. It was too late for him to do anything about it if he had - and he didn't know what he could do anyway.

Newbury really had an over-developed sense of guilt, and for no reason he could fathom.

The loud command made him stop, just beginning to recover from flinging the book and snuff box away. Damn. Damn. The provost had seen him getting rid of the items. That would do it for him, for sure. Newbury was torn between trying to run for it and doing as he'd been bidden. Not that he had much chance of getting very far on his knee.

It hardly mattered. The provost appeared almost out of the air. "Name," the trooper snapped, glaring down at him.

"Newbury," the rifleman answered, feeling the familiar, distinct prickles of fear. This was unsettlingly similar to another bad situation from years ago.

Pye ran after the damn trooper. He had hoped to lead him away from Newbury but as damn luck had it, he had seemingly lead him closer. His mind reeled with possibilities of what he ought to say, what he ought to do. For his fears had been confirmed. Newbury, even if he hadn't seen him, had gone and been with things, with very bad looting things.

"Newbury!" He called, not even out of breath. "Tole' you , you can get t' water from me. No sense goin' ter t' river fer it!"

Without a doubt, this was the third, missing, rifleman. The identification was confirmed by the 'escort', who came prattling up. Giles scoffed.

"Why," the trooper asked, "is a man who is meant to be with the surgeons going to fetch water?"

All Newbury could do was stare. Water? River? Surgeons?

"Um..." he said.

"Couse... he's thirsty?... n' stupid." Pye stated the obvious and shrugged.

"He's injured.. he ain't missin' a leg, .." He hesitated studying Newbury. "...n' a single man's canteen ain't too heavy for a child ter carry, let alone a grown man...even if injured." He supplied, thinking it was very reasonable and true.

He motioned to the rifleman. "He's here ter see your paper statin' that Vickery's lettin' you walk with the wagons." He explained to the latter.

Ticket? Newbury blinked, choosing to overlook Pye's opening remarks for the moment. Ticket. Was that what all this was really about? Wordlessly, he fished the paper from his jacket and held it out to the provost.

Giles managed, barely, to conceal a sneer. All this effort for one piddling scrap of paper. "Never can trust a greenjacket," he remarked, letting the ticket drop carelessly from his fingers. There was no overt wrongdoing here, unfortunately. He would have liked to bring this idiot up on a charge, but his permissions were in order.

"Carry on." Giles put his heels back and made his way, once again, back along the train to his officer.

Pye grinned and watched the back of the trooper till he was a good deal away. He turned around , and shook his head. "You're one lucky..." He mumbled the last word and grinned. "Come, lets get back.. n'.." He paused. "Leave that there." He whispered and waved to Newbury.

Scowling, Newbury grabbed the ticket off the road. "Bloody provosts," he growled, stuffing the paper back into his jacket. "I ain't carryin' nothin' now, am I?"

"All in order, sir," Giles reported curtly, looking faintly displeased to have come up empty-handed.

"Very well," his officer replied. "You may go, Private. Carry on, Troopers."

And that, as far as the provosts were immediately concerned, was that.

"No." And it was good he hadn't been found by the provosts with those things on him. " Come on, Cotton's.. going ter be furious with you, if he ain't already." He smiled brightly, quite satisfied with himself. The provost hadn't gone and questioned Newbury's reasons for being there! He had been satisfied with the ticket and he was on his way. Empty handed infact.

There was no way Newbury was going anywhere, until he knew the provosts were gone. "Ain't Cotton I'm worried about," he grumbled, thinking of the fit Jenny would pitch when she returned and discovered her loot was gone.

"..You ain't really thinkin' of getting it back?" Pye said incredulously. "They'll keep an eye on you fer a while, n.. you know it...?" Didn't he? Pye was convinced Newbury had experience in these things, though nearly getting thought didn't look all that promising. Not if he wanted to confirm his conviction.

Well, the other two had been dismissed, but the officer hadn't seemed inclined to go anywhere yet, and Cotton mentally cursed him up one side and down the other.. Willow wasn't helping his temper either; the stupid animal had seemed to glue itself to the ground and was moving neither forwards nor backwards.