Waking up

The chick didn't care for Cotton's words as long as the same man was giving it food. It happily pecked away at his palm, and though it heard footsteps it did not react.

Pye looked at first worried when he could not see his chick, but when he caught a glimpse of it in Cotton's lap he grinned. He placed the kettle back over the fire and turned to the pair. He regretted that Maggie wasn't back yet, and hoped that the other rifleman wouldn't hold that against him.

"Thanks fer takin' care of Peggy, Gabe." He didn't feel upset, but rather happy to see his chick earn some affection and a hand to protect it, when it could find itself in danger. And Gabe was a bit like family, so him taking care of the little thing was perfectly alright.

Cotton looked up. "Aye, she'm a friendly little thing. Why don't you let her ride on top of your pack, rather'n keepin' her stuffed away in your breadbag? It'd give her summat to look at, for sure." He stroked the fluffy down on the young bird's head. "Here, you'd best take her back afore she gets confused an' starts thinkin' I're you."

"'couse I.. worry she'd fall." Pye answered honestly but let the bird stay with Cotton a while longer before extending his palm to it. The bird hopped back a little, pecked at Cotton's palm. It looked as if it was meaning to make Gabriel's words true. But as a moment passed it chirped happily and ran, rather unbalanced, back to Pye. It flapped it's stumps for wings and setled happily in the young rifleman's palm.

Pye gazed at the bird fondly, and carefully brought it to his cheek. He petted its small head so carefully as if holding but the finest porcelain. "'careful she don't start thieving your breadbag, Gabe." He smiled. "If ye offer it so much."

"Tie her on with a bit o' string. Anyhow, they roost on a chee stick - a perch - without takin' a tumble, don't they? Your pack's safe as houses for her - it's as wide for her as Brandy's back is for the Captain. Wider, 'cause I don't think she'd get astride it if'n she tried." He shrugged. "I keep me snap-sack buttoned up tight, I do. There ain't no way she's thievin' me rations off'n me, for sure."

Pye stared at Cotton for a few moments. Of course he had managed to picture Captain Vickery in the shape of a chick, with a large shako on its head and a sweet little green coaty, with all the symbols of rank. He had managed to picture him trying to ride on a pack and it made the poor lad burst into laughter, embarrassed, somewhat ashamed he would think that of their favoured captain, but no less unable to stop it.

The chick squeaked in surprise at the laughter and chirped in alarm till she realised that it caused no harm. She looked at Cotton with her beady dark eyes and appeared almost accusing before it turned a few times and settled back down. A small little queen, if a girl she was.

"Gabe. Please don't yer give me that compar.. er.. the likeness again. I've imagined it.. I did. Terrible hurt of my belly now!" From laughter and nothing else.

"What? Oh. Oops." Cotton looked blank at first, and then burst out laughing himself at the absurdity of the picture that Pye's words brought to mind. "Didn't mean it quite like that!" He shook his head, still chuckling, and set the kettle to boil again. "Shame we ain't got some oats or we could have ourselves a half-decent stirabout," he added, straightening up and stretching.

"Best we don't tell Captain what you've suggested." The lad grinned. He felt much more at ease now that Cotton laughed at the same thought. It wasn't bad, nor insulting. It was just the way both had thought, and it was all harmless fun.

"Mebbe we could ask some of the girls? ..they go n' get things from t' locals. Might have sumthing like that too." He looked around and then smiled. "Maybe Maggie would know any?"

"Oh, I wouldn't do that. I mean, you can tell him a lot, but i wouldn't take liberties with it - even bein' his batman. Mebbe even 'specially 'cause of it." He shrugged again. "You got a lot to learn, lad. Maggie's a sutler for us - she gets all sorts of things to sell on. Tea, an' all sorts like that. Veg'tables an' things. Mebbe she's got oats... though I dunno where she went off to." She'd only gone to change into her shift, after all, and she'd been gone a while. He felt a twinge of anxiety - the last time she'd gone and he'd ignored that feeling, the most awful things had happened to her.

"Mebbe you go n' look for 'er?" Pye asked encouragingly. "See if she's got anything or knows.. n'.. i'll watch the fire here, and keep t' water boiling ready for tea. There'll be plenty enough for everyone, I think." He had known only small snippets of information about what had happened in the close past. He knew that Maggie wasn't around, he knew something bad must've happened but he did not know what, where nor why. He didn't know much of the details, but just enough that he could make an attempt at an assumption. And this was it.

"..Wouldn't ever test me luck with an officer, even one such as Vickery. He's a respectful man, but he's an officer still." He murmured and left it at that. The captain was above them all.

"Aye, the Captain's... well, he's the Captain. He expects folks to respect him. Won't say so in so many words, of course, but you can sort of... of feel the way he expects to be tret. Treated. Come of bein' a gentleman, that." He bent to pick up his jacket, and shook it out before slipping his arms into the sleeves, though he couldn't be bothered with buttoning it up.

"She'll likely have words to say about not bein' left alone to prettify herself, or summat," he said, though he wasn't convinced of it.

Cotton spoke reason with that, and Pye had little to add. Captain Vickery was as other captains in the sense that he was a gentleman. He was also as other captains, because they were all officers. There were similarities and there were differences. He was still slightly intimidated by the man even if he had not been vile and cruel. It was perhaps that feeling of confusion at his actual approachability left the boy more on edge than it ought to.

He chuckled hearing Cotton mention the lass's complaints. "How can she make 'erself any more pretty? " He peered at the water and saw that it was close to boiling. "How does it feel ter be married now, Gabe? Is it much different?" He was ready to quiet down if the rifleman wanted to head off to see if Maggie was still about, but also just listen if it was so asked.

"It's... Well, it ain't so very diff'rent from courtin', I s'pose," Cotton said. He hadn't really thought about it, after all. "Got to think of what she'd like, but then I bin doin' that since we left Lisbon anyhow. It'll all be diff'rent again when we gets kids." If they ever did, but he wasn't going to say that to anyone, maybe not even Maggie herself. He would like kids, he thought, but he had no idea how good he'd be as a father.

Maggie wandered back to the fire, looking preoccupied but cheerful. "Oh, hello Pye," she said, having almost forgotten him.

Cotton smiled fondly across at her. "Everythin' all right there, lass?" he asked.

"Oh, aye." She had gotten dressed in her blue frock, but she realized now that she had taken rather longer than he would have expected. "I was just talking to Jenny."

"Ah, right." He smiled at her. "You look nice in that dress, y'know, Maggie. Your weddin' dress." He stepped a little closer to her and bent to whisper in her ear, "You got the prettiest ankles I ever seen, sweeting." And then he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Gabe!" she exclaimed quietly, looking around to see if anyone had heard. "My ankles? Don't be silly." But she was pleased all the same, even if it was a lot of nonsense.

"I ain't, then. An' you'm the prettiest girl with the Second Division, you are, if not the whole Army." He smiled at her. "Very pretty ankles you got under them skirts, my girl." He put his arms around her waist. "Love you, Maggie."

Pye smiled a quiet greeting at Maggie and then when he saw that the pair was to converse more privately he made to busy himself with his chick and he got an answer on how it was to be married. It was a lot of sweet things, a lot of affection, which he'd seen sometimes. There were arguments too, that he saw, and there were children, even those he saw tagging along though he witnessed none being born. Perhaps marriage was a bit more like being bound to one another and able to count on each other for support, for love and even for a little added something if sutlering was concerned. He smiled and shrugged to himself.

If it was comfort, support and much more , the safety and watching out for each other, then marriage could be as much like a partnership of the pair of riflemen who would fight alongside of each other. He blinked and then noticed the water boiling. It was ready for tea and merrily bubbling away. He prepared it then, quietly and with his mind on the task , poking at the fire to keep it from dying too, though there wasn't much of a danger of it yet.

As if afraid that he would intrude on their private moment he turned about so that his back was to the pair, and quietly poured himself a cup. Still as quiet as if he was not meant to disturb a light sleeper, he assembled his things, made sure to find another pair of cups to fill as well and then moved back to his pack. It was secured tightly and the blanket dusted, rolled, a few strands of dry grass and bits dirt picked of it, and then tightened on the top of his pack. There, all done, almost.