27th May; Jenny and Pye

(Jenny comes from the surgeon's wagon)

Jenny slipped past Vickery and out of the surgeon's wagon. She nodded at the redcoat standing sentry outside. Was Newbury under arrest? She could not think of any reason why he should be, and the captain had made no mention of it. She had a chill as she realized that they must have come to arrest her - but no, the man was letting her pass without so much as a frown. She strolled past, but as soon as she was out of his field of vision she ran.

(it's night come from Dreaming awake)

It all went smoothly. The culprit did not wake, the rat still slept, the bushes were nice and neat and didn't even prick his fingers, not at least, in the manner of leaving thorn in it. The Tar had been there, and so too the feathers of a chicken. All had been perfect nearly. And now he was hurrying to relieve himself of the sack. Quickly too. He didn't know how soon the provost could wake and so he was better of doing it as quick as he could. He had the sack rolled up, the pale material barely seen.

It had specks of tar, bits of thorn, some feather and all still inside. This was the reason it had to go. He looked around and carefully, quietly moved further along the path. He couldn't act suspicious. He was trying his best not to appear as if he was attempting to desert.

He stopped, waited and listened.

Jenny herself stopped. Her skin prickling. She should have asked to borrow a lantern from the surgeon. She did not like the notion of someone being there that she could not see. Perhaps she would have been better off in the wagon. She decided to sing quietly as she walked along. At least it would make her presence known to the sleepers on the ground, if anyone was awake. No one would be able to take her without an abrupt interruption of her song.

How can you sit at another man's table?
How can you drink of another man's wine?

Pye experienced quite a surprise hearing a song, even if rather soft. There was a complaint or two, because some men wished to sleep and did not appreciate neither good nor bad singing, yet would've liked all the quiet they could get.

The source of it though was taking a path, that would take her towards him so that the lad cursed and stepped further into the bush. He shoved the bag into the thick undergrowth, digging his hand into the mud. He yanked a handful of it back, shoved his hand in again, and then pushed the rolled up sack into the hole that had appeared. He was quiet, though his breathing was somewhat strained. The floor beneath the first layer of earth was made of stones.. and beneath it even more stones. And would he have tried to dig further, the bigger ones would rather completely have blocked his way.

The sack was covered in mudd, somewhat concealed by the undergrowth and by the earth, and thumped into the hole twice before the lad stepped away from it.

Jenny heard the sounds of someone in the brush, and she carefully skirted the area to avoid running into anyone. She would rather not talk to strangers just now. But when he stood, she realized in the murky moonlight that it was a rifleman. Not Jestel with his mustache, not Cotton and obviously not Joe, so that meant - yes, it was that young Pye. The one who had stopped those provosts by pointing his rifle at them.

"Pye?"

He froze for a moment and wiped his hands against the skirts of his coat and the back of his thighs. His mind was made and so he stepped out of the bush and grass. "..Jenny, what are ye doing out so late?" He inquired as nonchalantly as he was able. "Aren't za suppose ter be back n' t' wagon n' 'sleep?"

"Aren't you?" she retorted, avoiding an answer. She had had enough interrogation for the night. But perhaps the lad did deserve a kinder reception, after what he had done to stop the provosts. She changed the subject accordingly. "I'm glad you were there to interrupt those provosts. Thank you." She stepped forward, tilted her head, and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled. She was used to all manner of human smells, but this was unusual for a rifleman. He smelled of... "Is that tar?"

"Gladly done. Anytime, Miss." He began to say when she approached him.

It took him a few moments to register that she'd given him a question. A mere kiss on the cheek had him as red as the collar of his coat. She could not see it perhaps, it being so dark, but his mind did get affected by it enough so that he was quiet, then cleared his throat, and then, only then he was able to respond.

"Tar?.." Why was she asking of that? It downed on him and so he shook his head sharply. "Ain't tar that...how could it be?... m' a rifleman." His explanation was lame.

She looked around to spot the source of the smell, but there was nothing obvious that she could see in the dark. It was definitely him, but she was too weary to care. "Well I'm going to find a place to sleep. Good night, Rifleman Pye."

"...Jenny, .. i'll escort you." And make certain that she did not stray in the direction in which she might have herself in grave trouble. "To be sure you are safe, else I'm sure Joe will have my hide for it."

"Oh. Well." She did not exactly want company, but he had a point. He would surely leave as soon as he saw her settled. "All right. Thank you Pye. I'm just looking for Maggie Evans. I mean Cotton, Maggie Cotton. I think she's that way."

Pye nodded. If she was with the wagons or, wherever she was, he assumed Jenny Ross would know. He was there only to make sure she was safe and to take her away from the spot at which he had left the bag. If he knew where she was, he was sure, she would not return to see. IF, she had noticed anything in the first places.

"How's Joe?" He hadn't decided yet, where he would sleep. The most probable location would've been by a camp fire, close to the surgeon's wagon. If Gabe was with Maggie, and they were quartered elsewhere, he would be out of the way, but at the same time close enough and on guard. Tomorrow he meant to go to the 33rd. Stay out of the way as it were. He'll have to tell that to one of the riflemen so they'd know not to worry about him not being there.

"Joe?" she repeated ingenuously. "I don't really know. I've hardly spoken to him." Which was true enough. "I expect the surgeon will put him to rights though. I can't imagine why the provosts..." She stopped and frowned as a thought occurred. "Last night, when Newbury let them think that he had pushed one of them into the water..." What had Cotton said? That Joe had been lying to protect someone else.

Pye tensed. The provosts had been told who it was. Did they still enact revenge on the weakest link in the chain, because they were upset that Newbury had made them a fool, and because he was already injured? His hand balled into a fist. ".He did not.. push anyone." He turned to look at Jenny. "The fool was trying to protect.... someone. He shouldn't have gotten himself into the scramble with those damned men!" In this he meant the provosts, of course.

"That's what Cotton told me," she answered levelly. She did not have time for this. She knew she did not have time to stand idly chatting, but she continued anyway, guided by some sort of reckless abandon. "It was you, wasn't it? Who else would he be protecting, when all the other rifles are at the front."

"Yes. " He had admitted it to the provosts. Even apologised, if not for the same things that Vickery had ordered him to. He had no reason to lie. Instead he shrugged and looked back onto the path that they were crossing.

"He said he was going to be gone by t' time t' provosts would be there." He was angry with Newbury. The man should've made himself disappear, as Pye did. They could not pin it on nobody then. Say that provost had imagined things!

"So this is your fault, is it?"

"My fault? For what?" Pye paused in his step.

"Your fault that he's lying in that surgeon's wagon now."

"It isn't." Pye continued with his step. "I didn't ask him ter stay behind. N' t' provosts know, Jenny. I tole them it was me." Which did confuse him. If they knew that Newbury had not caused the shove, why then it was him and Jenny, that they chose to assault? It was not as if he was a 10 feet tall, broad chested brute that everybody feared. Pye wasn't.

"You told them." Jenny's anger had gone from hot to cold in a quick moment, but now it was... muddled. She rubbed her face wearily. "You still owe it to him to..." To do what? Perhaps she should have stayed in the surgeon's wagon, just for a few hours more. She could have slept a while longer. But no, it was too late now. She would be safer outside. "Just look after him. You owe it to him."

He'd done that didn't he. Saw that the provost had paid, but he couldn't tell that to Jenny. Even if the end result would be known, the source of it had to remain hidden. " Don't think he'd like me company, miss. Ain't a lass n' I think he needs nurturin' more n' anything." Though he did mean to sleep somewhere close and outside there. He'd meant that before. At the moment Newbury was at his weakest. Gabe Cotton could take care of himself, Zachary Pye could, but Newbury could not even stand well.

"Um' sure he'd appreciate yer comin' ter visit 'im." She did say she hadn't been around Newbury almost at all. "..I'll be 'round ter see t' provosts don't get up to things.. but that's t' outside part ter do."

"Surgeon ain't a lass neither," she answered. She could not tell Pye what she was going to do. A lad foolhardy enough to push a provost into a river was certainly not the sort to be trusted with confidences. "He'll do well enough with Mister Todd, and with you riflemen. I see Maggie's fire. I'm fine from here."

Pye shrugged. They said lasses were smarter than men, but here he was convinced otherwise. He did stop in his step, yet wait to see that she would come to the fire and meet with Maggie afore turning about to leave. The provosts weren't about. He made certain not to move though, not untill he saw her in company.

And there was Maggie, thankfully alone and not yet asleep. Jenny knelt down and spoke with her quietly.