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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 15:59:21 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Patriot characters, nor The Patriot. I do not gain any profit for writing this story. I do own Catriona Johanson and two more upcoming characters. Chapter 1 Cat Johanson couldn’t believe it. She had been exploring the woods to find the fawn she had seen minutes ago. Now, now she was facing a historical plantation home that was surrounds by men dressed in red uniforms, mounted up on magnificent horses. Wagons were sitting a little ways from the riders, some were filled with supplies, others with wounded soldiers. Most of the men on horseback, however, were wearing green uniforms with tall, black, fluffy helmets. Frowning in confusion, Cat edged forward slightly, straining her ears to hear what was being said. As she got closer, the faces became more definable. “I’ll be damned!” Cat whispered in disbelief with her green eyes wide in wonder. There before her was Benjamin Martin, known to her as Mel Gibson. Yes, Mel Gibson. Cat was from the twenty-first century. How she ended up in the eighteenth century was a complete and utter mystery to her. Now that she was here she thanked God that she was a history fanatic and historical romance novel reader. It didn’t hurt that she loved The Patriot. She just hoped she didn’t get herself killed. Crouching low, she spotted a man on horseback, pointing a pistol at Ben Martin. His hair was dark and tied back. He was straight and tall in his saddle, his attention focused on the man at the point of his pistol. Cat recognized him immediately. Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington. ‘The Butcher’ among the patriots. Cat knew what was happening and what was going to happen, but knew she couldn’t stop it. It could, somehow, change history. Ben Martin needed to fight and this was the fire under his bottom to get him running. Resigned to just watching passively, Cat focused on the scene before her. Gabriel Martin had moved forward to protect his father, but then he made the mistake of letting one revealing word slip by his lips, “Father.” “Oh... so he’s your son." A dark eyebrow rose."You should have taught him about loyalty.” “Colonel, I beg you, please reconsider. By the rules of war, a dispatch rider with a marked case...” Ben Martin began just to be interrupted. Tavingtons’ horse shifted, but he quickly brought it under control, his pistol steadily trained on Martin, who was looking desperate, yet trying to remain calm. “Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?” Tavington coldly interrupted. Martin remained silent, eyeing the Colonel, waiting for him to pull the trigger. “Bad move, Mister Martin.” Cat thought sadly. Tavington moved his horse forward a few steps and shifted his pistol towards the Martin children. “Perhaps your children would.” Tavington sounded almost pleasant, but the cold malice in his cold blue eyes denied that any pleasant feelings were harbored in the Colonel. Martin jumped in front of the children, arms spread out as he swallowed thickly. All the children, except for Thomas Martin, were frightened. Abigale, the black servant, was clutching the little ones to her with desperation. “No lesson is necessary.” Ben Martin’s voice shook slightly. Tavington moved his blue eyes over the terrified children and smiled slightly in amusement. ‘A smirk, really.’ Cat thought. ‘Tavington would never smile.’ He holstered his gun pistol as a redcoat tied Gabriel Martin’s hands. “Father, do something.” Thomas Martin beseeched, his body stiff with rage as he watched his brother being tied. Martin remained still and silent as Thomas’s rage increased. His eyes moved from his brother to the woods and Cat froze. He was almost looking right at her! ‘He can’t see me. It’s still too far and I’m hidden... sort of.’ Cat remained still as stone, unaware that she was holding her breathe. The breath that she had been holding whooshed out as Thomas began running, throwing himself at the two redcoats that were holding Gabriel. For such a small person, he knocked the soldiers down to the ground. “Gabriel! Run!” Thomas shouted. Cat tensed, watching as Gabriel stood frozen as Tavington swiftly drew his pistol and fired, hitting Thomas in the back. Thomas was thrown to his knees by the balls’ impact. He stared down at the massive exit wound in his chest in shock and bittersweet confusion. His father caught him before he fell and gently eased him to the ground. Gabriel gave an anguished cry as the children stared in shocked silence at their brother, while Abigale wept bitterly behind them. The redcoats were frozen, like Gabriel, in disbelief, while the dragoons remained impassive and silent, having seen much worse. Martin held his son, staring down at the wound, anguish written deeply over his face. Martin looked up into Tavington’s cold eyes, hatred clear in his dark gaze. Tavington stared at the boy. “Stupid boy.” His voice was scornful and sharp as a knife. He turned his horse around and galloped away, his dragoons thundering after him. Rising, Cat gave one last sympathetic look at the Martin family before running after the Green Dragoons. She knew she would never be able to keep up nor outrun healthy muscled horses, but she had a clever mind and was brought up to use it. Trailing them, Cat bent swiftly, picking up a good sized rock, easy to throw and loud enough to make a noise, while running and threw it into the woods in front of her, near the rear dragoon horses. The men gave shouts as they began to slow, staring hard into the woods. Cat watched in amused awe as the rest of the dragoons slowed in a chain reaction. Tavington, with a mildly impatient look, rode to the rear men. “What is it?” He demanded with a glare. Cat slowed to silent crawl, trying to slow her breathing as she watched Captain Bordon come to a halt behind Tavington. “We heard a noise in the woods, sir.” One brave man said with hesitant tone. “A noise?” Tavington repeated bitingly. “For all we know, it could have been an animal, Sergeant.” Cat came to a stop and straightened her shoulders. With a quick prayer upwards, she marched out of the woods, heading straight for Tavington. Men noticed her and stared at her. Some were looking at her in suspicion and others were leering at her suggestively. ‘Gross.’ Cat groaned. Bordon noticed the shift of attention and stiffened as he caught sight of her. “Sir, we have company.” He nodded in Cat’s direction. Tavington turned and narrowed his eyes at her. He turned his horse and trotted over to her. Cat stopped walking and, because he was so close and sitting on a horse, tilted her upwards to look at him. “Good Afternoon, Sir! I hate to bother you, but are you on your way to Fort Carolina? I could go by foot, but if it isn’t a bother for you, may I ride with one of your men?” Cat asked, pleasantly, wishing he would back way a little or get off the horse. Her neck was starting to ache. “Who are you?” Tavington asked, staring down at her with knowing cold eyes. The bastard knew her neck wasn't comfortable and he was enjoying her discomfort. Cat gritted her teeth, but kept a outwardly calm face. “I’m Catriona Johanson. And yes, I’m a loyalist.” ‘When the situation calls for me to be,’ Cat added silently. Tavington’s eyes narrowed, distrust clearly written in his eyes. “What is your business at Fort Carolina?” “That, Sir, is none of your affair.” Car said primly with narrowed eyes. Tavington’s gaze sharpened and gleamed with ire. Who the hell was this woman? She was dressed in some kind of britches and tight shirt that left nothing to a man’s imagination. A camp whore? Like we need another trollop lazying about,’ Tavington thought with a sneer. “Bordon, this... female will ride with you.” Tavington turned his horse and rode forward through the dragoons to the front, where he waited impatiently. Cat watched Bordon ride up and offer a hand. Cat grasped his hand, placed a boot clad foot on his shiny left boot and pushed off the ground, swinging her right leg over the horse. Bordon sat stiffly in shock. A woman never rode astride a horse. It was improper! Cat gripped Bordon’s sides lightly, before leaning to the left slightly to enquire politely, “Sir? Would you prefer me not to ride with you?” Bordon shook his head, still puzzling over the strange woman. “No, Miss. Tis no trouble, but a pleasure.” Cat snorted, “Riding with two people is uncomfortable for the horse and the riders. It also slows the horse. I imagine you wouldn’t mind seeing me thrown off.” Bordon was shaking his head in denial when Cat lifted a hand and patted his shoulder. “I’m teasing, Sir.” Cat consoled, smiling softly from behind him. Bordon really was an easy target. Borden just nodded in puzzlement and rode up after Tavington with Wilkins following behind, distrustful eyes on Cat’s back. Cat gripped Borden’s sides and discreetly, or ashamedly, watched Tavington, over Borden’s shoulder. They were riding hard, dust flying up and around. Cat studied the back of the dark aristocratic head and began to plan. She would travel with Tavington with Cornwallis’s permission, if she could convince him. How to convince a general? Cat chewed on her lower lip, her mind drawing a dark blank. She turned her head and watched all the dragoons thundering behind her. That was when she noticed the mud on their uniforms. Mud and ...? She turned back to Bordon and inspected his jacket. Blood! That’s it! She was going to convince Cornwallis that she was a nurse then hint that the dragoon would benefit from having a travel nurse. Less men lost in battle and raids, if any was lost at all during the latter. ‘Good thing I was studying to be an R.N. in the future,’ she thought ruefully. Soon Cat saw a fence coming into view in the front of them that was at least ten feet tall with spiked top ends. Ahead of her and Bordon, Tavington was slowing. Ahead of him was the fence doors acting as the headquaters defense. They opened as a voice from above called down, “The Lord General is waiting for you, Colonel.” Tavington rode through, not acknowledging the watchmans’ words. Cat glanced up and waved merrily at the bewildered man, who just stared at her as Bordon rode in after Tavington. Cat, even though she was in the past in the middle of a war no less, was humming with excitement. Her head was swinging back and forth, trying to take everything in. Tents were up, shouts and bellows of laughter filled the air as horses neighed and stomped around her. Men were staring at her curiously and other were rudely leering at her. Cat sneered at them as she raised her chin, trying to look haughty, but failed as she caught sight of the mansion that the British had commandeered for the war as Cornwallis’s headquarters. It was breathtaking. Cat reluctantly jerked her eyes from it to glance at Bordon, who had brought the horse to a halt. Cat placed a hand on Bordon’s left shoulder before lifting up off the horse and swinging her leg up and away before bringing it down from the horse to the ground. Bordon shook his head and dismounted after her. She turned and walked up to Tavington., who was watching her with a frown. Cat smiled at him as she came to a stop in front of him. “Lead the way, Sir.” Tavington ignored her and looked over her head towards a person behind her, which wasn’t hard to do for she was only about five feet tall. “Take the horses and give them water and a good rub down.” “Yes, Sir.” Cat recognized Bordon’s voice behind her as she folded her arms while raising a dark eyebrow at Tavington. Tavington turned and began striding towards the mansion. Cat followed, practically running to keep up for she had short legs. Cat followed him inside and down a hall towards the end, where they turned right into a large and lavishly decorated room. Inside behind a large desk sat a man in a white curled wig, studying papers. Another man was in the room by the windows, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders pushed back in rigidity. Tavington strode into the room with a confidence that seemed to be escaping Cat as she followed him. The man behind the desk looked up at Tavington coldly. “Colonel” Tavington stopped a few feet from the desk and bowed slightly at the waist. “Lord General.” “How have you faired?” “Excellently, My Lord. We have also acquired a person... a woman to be precise. She hailed us from the woods.” “A woman? Who is she?” Cat nimbly stepped around Tavington, smiling warmly at Lord Cornwallis. “I’m Catriona Johanson. Yes, I’m a loyalist and I think you can use my help.”
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:00:50 GMT -5
Disclaimer: See first chapter Chapter 2 “Your help?” Cat nodded, eyeing Cornwallis, whose voice sounded strained. Her eyes narrowed as he glanced over at the other wigged man, who had a pinched look on his face, then to Tavington. “Contrary to what might be going through every male mind in Fort Carolina, I’m not a whore! I’m a nurse, offering her help to the war. Your doctors are top notch, no doubt, but can they be in two places at once? They are stationed here and near battle encampments, correct?” “Yes...” “So that leaves the raids. If for some bizarre reason a soldier is hurt on one of these raids and needs immediate attention, where is he going to get help when the doctors are here or at battle?” Cat saw from the corner of her eyes that Tavington was beginning to catch on to what she was planning, if the mildly angry look in his eyes was anything to go by. “Now to my point. I’m asking permission to travel with the Green Dragoons on raids and battles, Sir?” She finished hurriedly. “Sir, I don’t think...” Tavington began. “Au contraire, Colonel. I think it’s a marvelous idea, a bit far-fetched, but sensible nonetheless.” interposed the unknown wigged man, who Cat now realized, as he walked closer to stand beside the desk, smirking arrogantly, was General O’Hara. Cat hid a grimace. How she hated the man! Tavington glared venomously at the man as he turned away from Tavington to smile at her charmingly. Cat suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. O’Hara charming? When pigs could fly! “I’m General Charles O’Hara, madame.” He bowed to Cat, who nodded slightly at him, before turning her eyes onto Cornwallis, who was in turn watching her. He was frowning as he studied her. She knew what he saw. A short, rotund, mahogany haired and green eyed woman with a small up tilted nose, determined (or ‘stubborn’ as Tavington would later say) chin, pink tinged supple lips, and rounded cheek bones. She wasn’t a beauty, but she certainly wasn’t repulsive. “Before I let you near my men, I want the doctors to met you and evaluate you to see how good a nurse you are.” Cornwallis decreed sternly, looking at her gravely. “Are you really a Loyalist, as you said?” “Yes, Sir.” ‘I believe and practice loyalty wholeheartedly,’ Cat thought with a inner smile. “You are aware, Miss. Johanson, of Colonel Tavingtons’ reputation... here..in America?” Tavington’s lips thinned at the long implied ‘here’. “Yes, My Lord. I’m well aware of the colonel and the nickname the patriots have place upon him. I’d like to point out that he isn’t the only one to kill and isn’t the first to kill so...coldly.” Cat hesitated to say brutally for when she thought of brutal, she thought of domestic abuse, child abuse, and the rage of an irrationally jealous lover. Brutality seemed personal and Tavington was too indifferent. He killed without a thought for feelings of anyone, including himself. To kill brutally, feelings or a personal vengeance had to be involved and Tavington was just an indifferent man, who did his duty with precision and no feelings. There was no room for feelings in a war. You didn’t think about the means, you thought about the end. Cornwallis stared at her strangely, perplexed that she wanted to help ‘The Butcher’. “Very well. If the doctors approve of you, you can travel with the Dragoons.” Cornwallis paused and Tavington immediately jumped into the silence. “Sir, as noble as Miss. Johanson’s request is, I would like to point out that would slow us down.” He turned to Cat with a false apologetic expression. “I’m afraid we couldn't accommodate a woman’s needs.” Cat turned to Tavington fully with a vicious glare. “I wear breeches, not gowns. I can ride a horse astride for hours. I can go without food for days. I don’t powder my hair, nor do I fuss with my hair at all. I’m sure I’m more accommodating than some of your dragoons. I also can protect my self with or without a weapon, so Sir, you can rest your mind over my accommodations. Oh, you can also rest your mind about my virtue, it’s quite safe without your protection or any other males protection.” O’Hara was staring at her, his face red, which stood out quite vividly on his pale (powdered more in likely) face. Cornwallis was sitting rigidly with a disapproving, yet uncomfortable expression on his aged face. Wilkins shifted uneasily, even as he hid a slight smile by turning his head away from them. Tavington and Cat stood facing each other, glaring, both refusing to break eye contact and to let the other win their battle of wills. “Miss. Johanson...?” “Call me, Cat or Catriona, if you prefer.” Cornawallis looked irritated, considering Cat keep her yes on Tavington’s while she made her request. “Miss... Catriona, General O’Hara shall escort you to the Medical Tent while a room is made up for you.” Cat’s lips thinned out into a straight line as she realized she was being dismissed. “Colonel, you may go and return later, with no dust in sight, for a debriefing.” Cat grinned, her green eyes lit with laughter as Tavington glared more vehemently. She knew he was gritting his teeth for a muscle was jumping in his right cheek. Cat took pity for she knew that despite her stubbornness, she could, literally, spend forever just looking into his sky blue eyes. Cat turned away and started walking to the door. “Let’s go, General. I want to meet the doctors before supper.” Cat’s southern drawl rolled off her tongue smoothly as she opened the door. She left, leaving the men to stare after her as O’Hara hurried after her. Tavington’s eyes were narrowed at the doorway before he turned curtly and bowed shallowly to the bemused Cornwallis before striding out of the room to find his bath. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cat walked through the front lawn, ignoring everyone as she searched for the Medical tents. She spotted them to the far right and made a beeline towards them. Despite the trickery, she was determined to prove she was a good nurse. She was going to treat this as her final exam, almost like the one she was going to miss in the future. This was part dream, part reality, but mostly reality and she wasn’t going to screw up. At least not too much. Cat pushed the flap off to the side and stepped inside with waning confidence. O’Hara entered behind her and looked around. His eyes fell to a man bending over a young mans’ arm, inspecting beneath a bandage. O’Hara moved to take Cat’s elbow, but she sidestepped him, giving him a slight reproving look. “Lead the way, General.” O’Hara looked a little miffed at being ordered around, but dismissed Cat’s behavior, blaming it on her time in the Colonies. He moved forward towards the man and cleared his throat delicately to get the bent man’s attention. The young man looked up, saw the General and stiffened. “General, Sir.” The young man nodded respectively. “Lieutenant.” O’Hara answered before looking down at the bent man. “Doctor, could I have a word?” “Wait.” Cat grinned at O’Hara’s confused face. “Doctor?” A put upon sigh came from the man as he fixed the bandage before straightening up. He turned to O’Hara with stern glare. “You asked if you could have a word, I gave you one, General O’Hara.” Cat laughed outright then at O’Hara’s outraged face. The man grinned down at her, his grey eyes filled with mirth. As Cat laughed, she studied the doctor. He was a tall man, lean and tanned with crow’s feet and slate grey eyes. He had a nice smile with strong white teeth and high cheekbones. His nose was big, but had aquiline quality. He had a high forehead with a thick crown of grey hair, where a piece seemed to fall above his right eyes. He was a handsome man, one with a great sense of humor. ‘We’ll get along fine,’ Cat thought with relief. She hated working with arrogant doctors. “Doctor...” He held up a staying hand. “I apologize, General, I just couldn’t resist the chance. You are a hard man to trick, after all.” The outrage seemed to disappear as O’Hara puffed out his chest, making him look like a smug cardinal, with his red uniform and inflated chest. Cat coughed a little and watched in amusement as he deflated a little as he made introductions. “Doctor, this is Miss. Johanson. Miss. Johanson, Doctor Jacob Collins.” Cat smiled up at him and stuck out a small hand. “Hello, Doctor.” Doctor Collins smiled, taking her hand in strong, warm grip. He shook her hand firmly and Cat felt the callouses on his hand. ‘That’s rare for a doctor,’ she thought curiously. Not to mention for the British, in general, for during this era they rarely, if never, did manual labor. “It’s a pleasure, Miss.” He released her hand and turned to O’Hara. “What do I owe for a visit from such a beautiful lady?” Cat, to her dismay, blushed faintly a the compliment. For years, as she grew up, the elder generation always commented that she was pretty. She really never believed them and she didn’t believe the doctor now. She could see the charm in his smile and eyes and knew he had his share of flirtations through life. “The reason I’m here, Doctor, is that I’m a nurse looking to help the British. I’ve requested to travel with the Green Dragoons, in case a solider might need immediate attention. The Lord General wants all of his doctors approvals of my skilled before giving permission.” Cat explained before O’Hara had the chance. Doctor Collins had his eyebrows raised, but now they lowered as they studied her closely. She stood quietly, knowing the study wasn’t sexual, but assessing of her character. Doctors wouldn’t put their patients in just anyone’s care. “Well, Miss..” “Cat, please." “Very well, Cat, lets see how you perform at a steady pace, then tomorrow, we shall see what you do after a battle.” He finished as beckoned her to follow him. “Thank you for escorting her here, General, but if you’ll excuse us?” The doctor didn’t wait for affirmation, he just walked off towards a bed that held a feverish young man, no older than seventeen. Cat was instantly put to work. She helped bath the feverish young man and changed the bandage on his leg, after cleaning the wound that was slightly infected, if it got worse they would have to use maggots to eat the dead tissue. Through the rest of the day, Cat cleaned wounds, changed bandages, gave baths, gave medicine, soothed fears, and wrote a letter or two for a few young soldiers who had left wives, mothers, and children in England. It was around six o’clock later that day when General O’Hara appeared with an invitation to dinner from Cornwallis. “Is Colonel Tavington going to be there?” Cat asked while rebinding a man’s bruised ribs. He had been lucky that the horse that had fallen on him hadn’t broke any of the ribs and punctured a lung. O’Hara, standing at the end of the bed, looked startled and disapproving of the question. “He is an officer, so he attends.” It was clear by the tone of his voice what he thought of Tavington being an officer, but Cat said nothing as she stood and walked over to the doctor. “Doctor, would you like tobe my dinner partner at the manor house?” Doctor Collins didn’t look up from his work. “I’d be honored, Cat.” Cat smiled and turned to O’Hara. “I will accept you invitation for the doctor and I, General. I thank you for coming personally, but I’m afraid I have to get back to the patients. If you’ll excuse me?” Cat turned and walked away, leaving O’Hara confused and angry as he tried to figure out how to tell Lord General Cornwallis about the extra guest.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:02:42 GMT -5
Disclaimer: See Chapter One Chapter 3 Later that night, Cat stood in her room staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was glaring hatefully at the dress that was on her person. The neckline was too low, the hoops heavy, the corset tight as it cut off her sir supply and was hot under the many layers of undergarments she wore. She had asked for something simply. Obviously the maid thoughts on simple was different from her own. Cat turned and looked over her shoulder at the back of the dress and sneered at all the hooks and loops. ‘This dress is going to be torched after this dinner,’ Cat thought with malicious glee. A knock sounded on the door and Cat sighed wearily. No chance to demand another dress or loosening of the corset. Cat looked away from her reflection and walked to the door, opening it to reveal the least wanted person in the world, past, present or future. O’ Hara was gaping down at her, belying the thoughts he had on what was going to wear. ‘He really is pathetic,’ Cat thought, scowling at his eyes, that were looking down the too low bodice. Her face like a thunder cloud, she let loose her ire. “General O’Hara, my face is above my neck, not below!” she said scathingly, red marks marring her cheeks, which was very apparent for she had flatly refused powder on her face or hair. O’ Hara jerked as if she had slapped and she secretly wished she had. He awkwardly cleared his throat and bowed shortly. “After you, Miss. Johanson.” “No, after you, General.” Cat countered darkly, waving him away from the doorway. He hastily backed away allowing Cat to step out into the hallway, closing her door behind her. Cat glared at him and pointed down the hall. O’Hara, to avoid any more or her anger, walked down the hall quickly for he could swear her eyes were burning holes into the back of his head. Cat followed torn between her anger and amusement as she imagined an O’ Hara with a tail tucked between his legs, scurrying away as he was now. They both descended the stairs and made their way to the dining hall. O’Hara moved off to the side of the door, waiting for her to enter first. Cat swept by him into the room with her head held high. Men turned to regard her with curiosity and... of course, the ever present lust. Cat eyed them coldly as she spotted the Cornwallis standing near the fireplace with a glass held in one hand. Cat headed toward him, noting Tavington standing off to the side several feet from Cornwallis, sipping from a glass. Cat watched him from the corner of an eye as she stopped a few feet away from Cornwallis. “Good Evening, Lord General.” Cat curtseyed before rising as he smiled, taking her hand to politely kiss it. “Good Evening, Miss...Cat. I hope your day has been successful.” “Oh, it has, my lord.” She slanted Tavington a wicked look. “I’ll be riding with the Dragoons soon enough.” Tavington snorted into glass, even as he glared at her over the rim. She grinned at him smugly. “Ah, here is your guest, Cat.” Cornwallis said pointedly to her as he nodded towards the approaching man. Cat flushed slightly before turning to greet the doctor, “Doctor Collins, it sure did take you long enough.” Cat admonished him, her hands propped on her hips. Doctor Collins grinned down at her, winking at her, “I apologize for keeping the lady waiting.” Again a snort came from Tavington’s direction behind Cat. Cat turned, green eyes narrowed into slits, as she stepped up to him until they were nose to nose... well nose to chest, but it was the general idea that matter. “You don’t think I’m a lady?” Cat demanded. She watched as Tavington tossed back the rest of his brandy before handing the empty glass to Borden. He looked down his nose at her with a wicked look in his chilly eyes. “Putting on a dress doesn’t make you or any... working girl ...a lady.” He said cruelly. Cat drew a startled breath at the sting of his blow. Back in her time, if anyone had basically called or insinuated that she was a whore, she would have hit him and kneed him and been done with it, but physical pain wouldn’t work with a cruel soldier like Tavington. No, mental emotional pain was the ultimate blow for this man. Behind her, O’Hara looked like he was going to intervene, but Collins and Cornwallis withheld him with shakes of their heads. They knew Cat could deal with Tavington verbally, if not physically. They held their breathe as Cat opened her mouth to give Tavington her scathing retort. “Putting on a uniform for the British Army doesn’t mean the said man has any honor as a gentleman or as a soldier.” Cat countered viciously, shaking a little inside as she watched a unholy gleam of rage enter Tavington’s eyes. She swallowed thickly as she saw his hands clench before they swooped up and latched onto her arms, fingers biting through the dress and into her skin. He pulled her up until they were literally nose to nose, putting her onto her tiptoes as he spoke between clenched teeth and with a soft tone, not for intimacy, but for privacy so only she heard what he had to say. “If you do ride with my dragoons be sure that you will pay for that remark!” He abruptly let her go and Cat stumbled back a bit to regain balance on her feet. She was shaking, not visibly so much, but inside. Her hands trembled slightly as she rubbed her arms, trying to get the blood following in them. She was sure bruises would be there in the morning. She was terrified and excited at the same time making her shake with the adrenaline in her system. Tavington was still standing in front of her glaring down at her and she peeked up at him. She almost gasped at the sight before her. Gone with the neat, cool, controlled Tavington. Here before her was a slightly disheveled, glaring , passion eyed, and furious Tavington. His blue eyes were beyond stunning as he glared. Like sapphires glittering in the sun. Cat swallowed as desire pooled in her abdomen and lower. The sound of a throat being cleared was vaguely heard behind her. “I think it’s time to eat. Miss Catriona? Colonel?” came the stern voice of Cornwallis. Cat nodded jerkily, taking her eyes from Tavington as Doctor Collins took her elbow and began guiding her to the table. Tavington transferred his glare to the doctor briefly before turning and striding to his chair, which he sprawled himself into elegantly. He picked up his wineglass and sipped from it all the while watching Cat over the rim. Cat let the doctor lead her to her chair for she was too dazed to see or walk right. Cat sat down quickly and mirrored Tavington’s actions. She gripped her wine glass and gulped down a generously amount of the red wine. She felt his eyes on her, burning a hole into her, watching every motion and flicker of emotion visible to his talent eye. Cat took a more slower and shallower drink of her wine, feeling the wine work it’s alcoholic magic in her system. It steadied her shaking and helped clear her head of the whirling emotions. Straightening her shoulders, Cat looked up and meet his eyes dead on. She refused to be cowed by the man. She was stronger than that. Stronger emotionally and physically than the women of his time, this time she was sent to. She would show him that no matter how bruising his grip, how sharp his words, how scary his threats, she would always stay strong and defy him at every turn for she knew that if she didn’t, he would walk right over her and leave her in the dust just like the countless enemies and other women left behind in his trail. “Sanders, begin!” commanded Cornwallis to the butler by his right elbow. The butler signaled to the footmen to begin serving supper. All through the courses Cat kept up a slow chat with the doctor, yet was aware of only one man that sat on the other side of the table four chairs down. They were enjoying dessert, when Cornwallis addressed Doctor Collins. “Doctor, does Miss Cat show promise of being a nurse for the British Army?” Cornwallis asked, leaning back in his chair, cradling his wineglass, which was balanced on the arm of his chair, with a steady hand. Doctor Collins leaned back as he picked up the napkin on his lap to dab at his mouth before responding in his own good time. “Cat has shown considerable talent of nursing. If women were allowed to be doctors, I imagine she would be an excellent one given the opportunity of proper training.” Cat shifted in her chair, blushing at the compliment. Cat wiped her mouth, to hide her pleased smile, yet she couldn’t resist looking up at Tavington. He was watching her and the doctor with a mocking little smile that grated on her nerves. She had a very sure assessment of what he was thinking about. Cat scowled at him, green eyes narrowed and piercing. Tavington just raised his wineglass in salute with a smirk firmly planted on his face. He drained his wineglass, blue eyes never leaving her green ones as she picked up her own wineglass and drank every last drop, accepting his challenge. “Miss Cat, you look fatigued. Maybe you should retire.” Cornwallis suggested. However, everyone knew it was really an order. Maybe he was dismissing her, so the men could enjoy some port, but everyone knew it was because of Tavington. “You're quite right, my lord. I think it’s time I sought my bed.” Cat agreed. She tossed her napkin onto her dessert plate and pushed her chair back to stand. All the men stood with her, except Tavington. “Colonel!” snapped General O’Hara as he glared venomously at the dark haired man. "You stand when a lady stands.” “I see no lady.” Tavington drawled, staring right at Cat, his cold smile dripping with disdain. O’Hara opened his mouth to blast him, but Cat stalled him withe hand. “It’s all right, General. Gentlemen stand when a lady stands. I’m not looking at a gentleman.” He smile grew cruel. “I’m staring at a dog, who begs at any woman’s feet.” Cat excepted him to rage out of his chair to jump her, but she was doomed to disappointment. Tavington just stared at her, eyes cold yet flaming with rage. A rage that was ice cold. The kind of rage to fear from a man like Tavington for he was unpredictable as this stage. In a white hot rage, one knew that he would yell, rage, beat, spit, hiss, and spew at you, but when it was ice cold, who knew what he would do for he was in control. Rigid control and at his most merciless. Cat shivered internally. She knew that if they were ever alone their would be hell to pay and she was scared. Anyone would be an idiot not to, but she was also excited. She could feel the desire pooling in her abdomen. Some would see this as perverse, but it was exhilarating. Not knowing what would happen, watching him become passionate at the most cruelest remark, the sound of his voice at his most cruelest, all were a turn on. She knew he was a dangerous man. Knew was playing with fire, but she was a moth drawn to that fire in his eyes. She wasn’t a shrinking violet and she was going to give as much as she got in verbal sparing and, yes, physically ones. She knew that he was cruel man and had a great deal of pride and wasn’t going to let a woman get by with punching it hard as she has done. Sucking in a steadying breath, Cat tilted her head to him then to Cornwallis before turning to leave. “I’ll escort you, Cat. I need to get back to the Med tent.” Collins said, taking her elbow as he nodded to Cornwallis. Both walked out of the dining room sedately and quietly until the doors closed behind them. Cat let out a shuddering breath, letting her shoulders sag a little. Collins remained silent until they were out of ear shot of the servants. “You’re a little fool! Do you know how dangerous Tavington is? Do you know what the colonists call him,?” Cat was going to answer, but was railed over, “They call him the Butcher, Cat. He’s a cruel, merciless killer and you're poking at him with a stick then with your finger because you apparently think it’s safe to get that close.” “Doctor, I know how dangerous he is. I know everything. I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m getting into...sort of.” Cat assured him. “Sort of?” He scoffed as they climbed the stairs. “You're playing with fire and he’s an untamable forest fire. You will eventually get burned, Cat.” “I know.” She said quietly. Both were silent until they reached her door. They faced each other. Collins eyes were sad and imploring. Cat’s eyes, along with her face, were determined and hard. Collins sighed. “We go to battle tomorrow. We leave at two hours before dawn.” He paused. “I want to check your arms before we leave.” Cat nodded. “Good night, Doctor.” “Good night, Cat.” Collins turned away and was near the stairs when he heard her voice pitched low from eavesdropping ears. “You’ll be there to fix the burns, no doubt, Doctor, if not, I have the skill to heal myself, do I not?” He turned and watched her door shut behind her before a snick was echoed through the hall. She had locked the door. He smiled sadly. Maybe she would survive. Maybe she was air and water mixed together. Air to fuel the fire and water to tame it, even if briefly, until the air fueled it’s flames again. He turned back to the stairs and descended them quietly.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:05:35 GMT -5
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 Chapter 4 Ext. Camden Battlefield- Day BOOM! BOOM! Screams rang through smokey air mingling with the sound of intense cannon fire. Balls of steel cut down lines of blue, leaving in its path screaming men with severed arm, legs, and bodies. One shatters a skull, cuts men in half, smashes into a wagon before slamming into a tree, killing about four men in the process. Another, shot low, takes a leg, after leg, after leg, after leg....... One passed harmlessly through the continental lines, leaving men to sigh in lucky relief, but then something hideous careened towards them. A pair of cannonballs linked by a chain cuts through the screaming and bloody red mass mixed with fading blue. Soon the roar of the cannon fire was drowned out by the screams of grown men and boys barely of age. Ext. Camden Hillside- Day Benjamin Martin and his eldest son, Gabriel, sat atop of their horses, watching the red slash come to halt. Thousands of redcoats raised their muskets as the front ranks knelt into firing position. Benjamin’s eyes darted around, trying to find a place to hide for he knew what going to happen. “Break for the trees.” He hissed, turning hi horse. “Break for the trees, Gabriel.” Gabriel hesitated for second before following his father in to the cover of the trees. Behind them on the battle field, a massive eruption of smoke gathered and billowed from and around the red coats. Ext. Camden Battlefield- Day All Continentals in the front line dropped, chests full of lead, as the second line was hit with blood, flesh, and bone. It was chaos, no chance of advancement or retreat. The only thing to do was to fight back, pray, or for many, die. Ext. Camden Hillside- Day From the trees, both Martin men watched the blue lines fall as British musket fire filters out like rain. Scattered smoke erupts from the Continental line, which was falling rapidly in numbers, while the red line stood firm. “Send them to cover.” Benjamin muttered, watching the scene before him with resigned sadness. The blue line stayed in the field to be slaughtered like sheep. “Damn you.” Benjamin swore angrily. Ext. Redcoat Command Position- Day Cornwallis, with his officers, sat on horseback, watching every detail of battle with an air of satisfaction. He was calm and commanding as he filtered out orders. “Second foot, wheel right, advance quick step..” He ordered, pointing. Riders galloped off with the given orders. “Second Brigade, horse, charge at will..” Another rider broke off. “..Colonel Tavington, have at their militia.” “With pleasure, my lord.” Tavington’s smile was chilling and feral as he galloped away to join his men for the charge. British calvary thundered into the waning Continental lines, brandishing sabers and hacks. One Patriot dismounts a redcoat, only to cut down from behind by another red coat. British Infantry, including a brigade of African Americans, ran full tilt into the fray, bayonets leveled....... Ext. Camden Hillside- Day Benjamin and Gabriel watched as spots of blue ran in every direction that was away from red and green. “Father..” Gabriel began, only to be interrupted shortly. “It’s already over.” Benjamin sighed disgustedly before turning his horse and riding down the hill toward the rear of the Patriot lines. Gabriel followed, but only after one more look at the dancing swirls of color. Ext. British Headquarters- Camden- Day Tents were pitched in endless rows as large detachments of redcoats marched around them headed toward battle to replace the battle worn soldiers that were trailing in from the intense, but already won battle. Beyond the opened gate as cloud of dust was fast approaching causing the battle worn soldiers to scatter as Colonel Tavington and Captain Bordon, both covered in dirt, blood and sweat, galloped inside the fort. They dismounted in front of the mansion, handing the reins to the mounts to a lieutenant before striding up the stairs and into the building. A man servant approached o take their hats as they walked by. Tavington was pulling off his gloves as he headed down the hall. “Go check our wounded.” Tavington stopped near a door flanked by two doormen. He raised a hand to stall them from opening the door. He turned his head slightly in Bordon’s direction. “Watch the woman.” His voice brooked no argument. “Yes, Sir.” Bordon saluted before turning on his heel and striding away. Tavington nodded to the doormen as he tucked his gloves into his belt. The door was opened and Tavington strode in, shoulders back, chin tilted. Cornwallis was standing behind a table that was covered by a map, which was being poked at by a pointed as Cornwallis talked to General O’Hara, who stood to Cornwallis’s right. “It skirts the mountain and then extends down towards the water here and right across to the far back of the Ohio river.” Cornwallis straightened as he lifted the pointer, ignoring Tavington, who stood a foot from the table. O’ Hara spared Tavington a short glance before focusing on Cornwallis who was still talking, “It’s about a hundred thousand acres.” “It’s an imposing land grant, my lord.” O’ Hara glanced at the map before smiling at Cornwallis, in the simpering way of the legendary butt kissers. “You will be a country unto yourself.” O’ Hara grinned at Tavington as if to say ‘your in trouble and I know why.’ O’Hara turned and walked out of the room as cold blue yes followed until the pompous moron was out of sight. Tavington returned his gaze to Cornwallis before speaking, “His Majesty is most generous, my lord. Though your service in this war more than warrants such a gift.” Cornwallis looked at Tavington, considering him with a slight lofty expression before returning his gaze to the map. “Yes, this is how His Majesty rewards those, “ Cornwallia looked up Tavington, reproach clear in the eyes, “ who fight for him as gentlemen.” His tone was very clear as to what he thought. Tavington’s jaw hardened at reminder of the jab given by the infernal brunette last night. A slight twitch of Cornwallis’s lips were hidden by a flash of hand. Tavington straightened his stance, blue eyes focused on the map resting on the table. “I dare to presume that my own ,” He looked up at Cornwallis, “meager contributions will be rewarded one day. “ He smiled at Cornwallis as if sharing a joke. Smugness was a slight sliver in his stance and tone. Cornwallis’s face tightened as his eyes hardened slightly. “You presume too much.” He informed Tavington, who frowned at the tone of his commander’s voice. “His Majesty, like history, judges, “ Cornwallis continued as he walked to his desk, “ us by the outcome of the war and the manner in which it was fought.” “My lord?” Tavington inquired, turning to watch Cornwallis as the man gave his lecture. Cornwallis ignored him. “We serve the Crown and we must conduct ourselves accordingly.” Tavington breathed deeply, eyes lifting to the ceiling as he finally realized the reason for this meeting. “Surrendering troops will be given quarter.” Cornwallis glared over at Tavington for his inattention. “These brutal tactics must stop.” Tavington’s face tightened, lips drawn in a flat thin line as he walked forward towards Cornwallis, who stood behind his desk. “Isn’t is enought, my lord, that I never lost a battle?” Tavington half asked, half demanded. Cornwallis looked down at his desk as if to avoid the blue eyes of the Colonel. “You serve me and the manner in which you serve me,” Cornwallis lifted his head to glare at Tavington, “Reflects upon me.” He snapped loudly. Tavington looked bemused. He had never seen Cornwallis lose his temper. Cornwallis sighed, releasing the tension in his sturdy frame. He stared at Tavington in exasperation. “ I would’ve thought that a gentleman...,” Tavington’s cheek twitched, “...from a family as esteemed as yours would understand that.” Cornwallis said softly, watching the younger man before him. Tavington seemed to be struggling for some composure. “My father...,” Tavington’s voice was soft, yet was steely underneath the softness, if one listened close enough to hear, “... squandered any esteem in which we were held, along with my inheritance.” He paused. “ I only advance myself through victory.” “You advance yourself only through my good graces.” Cornwallis retorted firmly. Tavington drew back slightly, dark eyebrows raised as he stared at Cornwallis in amazement. “Those colonials are our brethren and when this conflict is over, we will reestablish commerce with them. Do you understand, Colonel?” Tavington nods slightly, gaze focused on the desk in front of him. “Perfectly, my lord.” He said softly. ‘Perfectly, indeed.’ He thought inwardly with suppressed anger. Medical Tent- Camden- Day Cat stood stoically, face calm ignoring the people around her. Her attention was solely fixed on a pair of bare hands that were currently probing an open wound for ball of metal. Cat inwardly shuddered at the surroundings, doctors, and medical instruments. She knew half of the injured men would die of infection alone it was too early for the creation of penicillin and morphine. She watched Doctor Collin’s hands as they gently pulled and pushed around skin, tendons, and muscle for one tiny ball. “Tray.” Collins ordered curtly. Cat lifted a metal plate and remained passive as a bloody round ball clanged onto the plate. It was as small as a pebble, but as deadly as a modern day bullet. Cat sat the tray down and lifted a decanter of tin. Holding it above the arm wound, Cat tilted it pouring brandy into the wound. The soldier was unconscious, thank God, saving him from pain. Doctor Collins immediately pushed a needle through the lip of one parted edge of skin before doing the same with the other. Collins stitched him swiftly before knotting the thread and cutting the rest of the unused thread away with the pair of scissors that Cat had handed him. “Private.” Doctor Collins commanded a passing young man’s attention. “He’s finished.” The private nodded and signaled to another medical soldier to help him lift the stitched soldier from the operating table. They placed the wounded, but mended soldier on an empty recovery bed. “Next.” Collins barked, as if they were a grocery cashier. He washed most of the blood away with water in a nearby bowl before Cat handed him a rust colored towel, her face still passive, yet tense. She turned and watched two med men deposit a delirious man onto the table. Cat approached and placed gentle, yet firm hands onto the flapping arms. “Shush now! It’s alright. You're safe now! Hush, honey.” Cat cooed, trying to soothe the agitated and feverish soldier. His hair was full of mud and blood, hiding his hairs natural color. His face was sticky with sweat and dirt mostly as well as the rest of his clothed person. She was dreading the state of his wound, which was yet to be examined. “Get away, you lousy bastard. Traitors! All of you!” He shouted, spittle flying. Cat ducked a flying fist before quickly grabbing it and its mate to tuck them under her arms, restraining him. “Hush now! You're with British doctors. You're safe. There are no traitors here, darling, now relax and rest. Let us take of you.” Cat told him calmly, keeping a firm hold on his arms. He was tugging fiercely, trying to get them away. “Maggie is that you? Those colonists wounded me, Maggie. Go get your healing bag and patch me up. Quickly now, Maggie. I have to get back!” The soldier cried out, arms trying to embrace Cat. Cat blinked back sudden tears, even as she clucked her tongue, invading his arms as she turned to take a glass from Doctor Collins. “Take this for me, love, and I’ll have you patched up in a jiffy.” Cat coaxed, unashamed at masquerading as his Maggie. Cat lifted his head gently to the glass rim and tilted it, pouring the contents into the soldier’s mouth. She smiled down at him as the landuam spiked water disappeared from glass. Cat laid his head down gently as the soldier became to settle, eyes dropping closed as the landuam did its job. She placed the empty glass on the stand by the table and turned to Doctor Collins. “Excellent work, Nurse. Now let’s see the damage.” Doctor Collins whistled lowly, face tight as he inspected the infected leg wound. He sighed and looked up at Cat with tired eyes. “Let’s begin.” Cat watched him pick out cloth and rocks before pouring water then brandy into the wound. Collins probed and protruded, pushing the infected skin and tissue to release the pus and grim, but soon curses filled the sir between her and Collins as he stopped inspecting the wound. He looked up at Cat quickly before looking away. It was all right, however, for she knew what he needed. “Saw.” He ordered softly. Cat’s eyes closed briefly before she turned and picked up the ordered instrument. Doctor Collins took it and Cat placed her hands on the wounded legs calf and knee, teeth clenched, shoulders hunched as she held the leg down, face taut with aggrieved tension. Her face was averted as sharp metal touched flesh and bared down. Blood gushed and dripped to the floor. Bone was crushed, then split with a mallet. It was over. Cat drew in a shaky breath before turning to grab the brandy decanter to pour it over the still attached thigh wound. After she poured, her gaze was drawn unwillingly to the wounded thigh. She frowned studying the attached and unattached limbs closely. Doctor Collins had a bandage ready, but Cat forestalled him. “I have an idea.” Cat trailed off, looking uncertain. Collins nodded for her to continue. “Why don’t we cut the skin from the severed calf to stitch it to the open thigh wound?” she asked in a rush. In her time, skin reattachment and regrowth wasn’t exactly common, but was definitely practiced. However regardless is common or uncommon, it just might improve the chances of survival for this soldier and many more. Collins was frowning as he studied the limbs. Presently, he raised serious, yet excited eyes to Cat’s “Let’s give it a try.” He took the scalpel from Cat and began cutting the skin off the severed calf. Cat arranged the severed skin and held it in place over the wound while Collins stitched steadily. Neither were aware of a pair of eyes watching them closely from across the tent. Neil Bordon was doing as ordered by the Colonel. He was watching Cat, noting every expression and move she made. She was calm, intelligent, and swift as she worked. 'A good nurse,' he thought. 'Certainly better than others I’ve encountered and not just better by appearance.' He stood and admired the way she handled the feverish soldier. Calm and caring. Firm, yet gentle. Hell, he admired all of her. Appearance and attitude. Now she was a beauty, but was distantly pretty with those striking green eyes of hers. A cat’s eyes. Languid one second then sharp as a blade the next. Her eyes, however, weren’t her only sharp feature. No, her mind was just as sharp , just as well as her tongue. He loved watching her battling with the Colonel. Her green eyes flashing, cheeks flushed as she hissed. Her tongue was a weapon that cut severely, yet healed according to what he had witnessed with the feverish soldier. Her mind was quick with scathing remarks and clever ideas apparently, if his eyesight was still in working order. He was looking forward to when Cat would join the Dragoons. He just hoped she didn’t get herself killed by the Colonel either by her tongue or truth of her true loyalties, which were unclear at the moment despite her words to the contrary. Neil Bordon had very few regrets in life and hoped that trusting Catriona Johanson wasn’t going to be one of them. Neil turned and left the med tent, not looking forward to the Colonel’s temper, which would be explosive, as always, after another talk with Lord General.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:06:44 GMT -5
Chapter 5 Cat smiled at the bandaged face before her as she held a spoon filled with soup before the soldier's mouth. The mouth opened and Cat gently placed the spoon inside and watched the soldier swallow slowly. “That’s the last of it, soldier. You lay back now and get some rest.” Cat helped him lay back, careful of his bandaged hands. Poor thing had been burned by his gun. It had backfired, gunpowder burning both hands and his face. Cat arranged his blanket before moving to the next bed, then to next, then the next......... Some slept, some were bathed as they writhed with fever, and others sat eating or talking about the battle. Cat smiled at the lucid and checked the sleeping bodies vitals as she passed. She was now piling the food cart with dirty dishes when a shout came from behind her. She whirled around and sprinted across the tent to grab the swinging arms of the amputated leg patient. She felt his forehead and cursed loudly, drawing admiring and shocked glances from the other patients. She ignored them. The poor boy had a blistering fever. Again. “Gaterson, a water bowl and rag. Quick, ma..” Cat choked off as a fist collided with her cheek. Cat felt the cheek and knew it was already swelling. She ignored her cheek and between her and a med houseman, restrained the soldier to keep him from injuring himself and others. Gaterson appeared with a bowl and rag on a cart, which he positioned beside Cat and the cot. Cat immediately socked the rag and applied it to the feverish soldiers forehead and face. The soldier moaned, his head twisting, instinctively following the cool rag. She soaked the rag again and pulled down his blanket to bathe his neck, chest, arms, hands and abdomen. She repeatedly soaked the rag and bathed the soldier, ignoring her throbbing cheek as she longed for aspirin for herself and all the fevered men littered around the tent. Medical advancement seemed so far away and out of reach to Cat, who really felt helpless, even though she had the knowledge that their was help for them, however, she just didn’t have the means or right to change history, even if just medically. For about an hour, Cat bathed and crooned softly to the soldier until finally the fever broke. The writhing, moaning, and shouting ceased to be replaced by ragged breathing of unsteady, but blessed sleep. Cat tossed the rag into the bowl and stood, stretching her back, arms, neck, and fingers. She pushed a hand through her tangled hair, which had long since fallen out of it’s confined state. A yawn wrecked her body, but was cut short as a sharp stab of pain in her left cheek. Cat winced, fingers probing her red, swollen cheek gently. The skin was broken near her eyes and was covered with dried blood. Cat looked down at resting soldier and grimaced at him. “You pack quite a punch, soldier.” “Nurse.” Cat turned to see Doctor Collins striding toward her with Tavington and Bordon on his heels. Frowning slightly with wariness, Cat faced them. She saw anger in the doctor’s face and was timid in her inquiry. “Sir?” “Why is that soldier tied to his bed?” Collins demanded to know harshly, face taut with rage. His grey eyes were nearly black. “Release him. NOW!” Tavington barked to Gaterson, who did as he was bid. Cat raised no objection for the soldier was calm, but despite no objection it was obvious Cat was pissed. Face flushed and eyes in slits, Cat spoke quietly, her voice steely and chilling under the polite quietness. She refused to yell and disturb the soldiers, despite her anger. “For your information, gentlemen, this soldier was delirious with fever and presented a danger to himself and others. He was swinging his fists at his enemy, who only he could see, while shouting out, disturbing other patients. To help him, I needed ‘to be cruel to be kind’, gentlemen. To bathe him, I had to bind his arms.” She paused, watching comprehension dawn on the doctor’s face. “Now if we’re through, I have other duties I need to attend to.” Cat turned away, but didn't move a step because of the bruising grip on her arm. "We are far from done." Tavington commanded, fully aware of his harsh grip. Cat whipped around, beyond furious now. Her cheek was throbbing again, her arm was in pain, and she was still smarting with anger at being accused of abusing a patient. "Take your hand off me! If I wanted to be manhandled, Sir, I would be with the Continentals. We are finished for I have nothing... no scratch that I do have something to say! You’re an arrogant prick who thinks everyone’s guilty because you want them to be. One bad piece of evidence and you want to hang them immediately. I’m sorry to disillusion you, Colonel, but the world isn’t only in black and white. Grey is everywhere, but you chose to be color-blind because you can’t stand to be wrong or for there to any ‘white innocent’ left. Learn to give them a chance to be proven innocent, if they are, before drawing and quarterly them on the spot.” Cat spat at him vehemently, forgetting about at her cheek and arm. Her focus was William Tavington and his arrogant suspicious attitude. “Cat! What happened to your cheek?” Collins exclaimed, hand stretched out towards her face. His face was now filled with concern. All the anger was gone. Cat jerked in Tavington’s grasp, leaping back before being pulled sideways into a warm body. Cat struggled, but Tavington squeezed her arm tighter, making Cat stand still as he probed the wound on her cheek with his free hand. Cat stood against his body rigidly, eyes focused at his shoulders, her lips compressed into a thin line of irritation and anger. “The boy has a nice right hook.” Tavington mused, watching her, as his fingers started caressing her cheek. He leaned close, fingers trailing to her chin to trace her compressed lips. Cat gasped slightly, lips slightly open now as his fingers moved softly. “Soft and smooth like silk.” He whispered darkly, “Yet so easy to ruin just like silk.” Cat’s drowsy eyes flew open, the green so vivid now with sparks of fire. She hissed at Tavington as he shifted his head to nip her ear none too gently. Cat jerked her arm and he let her go, watching her with coldly amused eyes. “Despicable animal!” Cat spat heatedly. Tavington stepped forward far from amused now. He had been called worse, but he wasn’t going to be take such tripe from a woman in front of his men. Collins stepped forward hurriedly, taking Cat’s elbow gently, but firmly to propel her away from the furious Colonel. “Come, Cat, let’s take care of that cut.” Cat let herself be taken away, furious beyond words. Left behind, Tavington and Bordon watched them leave. “So easy to manipulate.” Tavington murmured softly. His expression was still anger, but was thoughtful as well. “But then again a chameleon is never what you think it is.” Neil Bordon, nodded, eyeing his commander with knowing eyes. Cat sat fuming at the man bandaging her cheek as well as the man they had left in the med tent probably gloating over his victory. Cat, however angry she was at the two men, was more angry at herself. Where was her pride? Angry at the infernal man one minute than melting at his touch the next. It was damning, this melting at one touch. She had never melted at any modern man’s touch. Where was the difference? She was always angry at the man. He always angry at her. Both at each others throat since their first meeting. Why such a powerful attraction? Back in her time, the only thing that stopped her temper was her guilt at being so harsh and angry at the unfortunate person. When she was angry at any man she was attracted to she stayed angry no words or touch would make her contrite. Or so malleable as Tavington obviously does. It was so frustrating, so damning to be at someone’s mercy in any situation, but was more so when it involved someone’s bodily response. The most vulnerable situation for a woman was to be at a man’s sexual mercy, forced or willingly on some level. However could such a powerful attraction be reversed on the man? “There!” Collins rocked back onto his heels, eyeing the calmer Cat warily. “I want to apologize for jumping to conclusion out there, even thought I was justified for worrying about my patient...” “He’s my patient as well, Doctor...” “Jacob.” “...And I think after today you would realize I take my job seriously.” Cat finished with a halfhearted glare. He gave her a lopsided smile. Cat sighed, fighting a smile. “I just want you to trust me, Doc... Jacob.” Jacob nodded and walked over to a cabinet behind his desk. “Brandy?” Cat nodded. “Please” Jacob placed two tumblers on his desk and poured a generous amount of amber liquid into both glasses, splashing a bit of it over the sides. He sat down the brandy decanter before handing Cat her glass. He sat down wearily in his desk chair before raising his glass for a toast, “To the King.” Cat raised her glass, face solemn as she seconded the toast. “To the King.” 'Of Rock -n- Roll,' Cat finished silently with an invisible grin. Jacob swallowed a large amount of his brandy, while Cat sipped cautiously. It burned its way down her esophagus and into her stomach where it settled warmly. Braver, she took a larger sip, liking the warmth in her stomach and the pleasant buzz it gave her. Jacob grinned as she coughed a bit, her face red. “So, Cat, where did you learn such skills?” He gestured to the door, the med tent just beyond it. Cat swallowed wrong causing another round of coughs and gags. She wheezed a bit after, buying her time to think. 'Something not a lie, but not the total truth either,' she thought. “Umm... well... my father’s a doctor,” truth and a lie. Her father was a vet. An animal doctor, but a doctor nonetheless, “My mother helped him,” she did help by feeding the animals, “And she taught me what she knew and learned.” She taught me my morals and showed me what she knew and learned about law wise for human beings and women. Her mother was a strong feminist lawyer and had instilled into her daughter that women were worth as much as men. Cat thought ruefully, remembering all the lectures she endured through the years about the power of women. Cat would love to see Tavington try to go a round with her mother. 'I’d pay to see that fight,' Cat grinned inwardly. Jacob nodded slowly. “Which colony did you grow up in?” he raised his glass to his mouth, watching her over the rim. “Virginia until we moved further south. On the journey down, however, my mother became ill and soon passed away not to far from here. She almost made it. That’s what made it very hard for my father and I to accept her death.” She paused as if to remember a long ago memory. In truth, she was trying to make up a story that was believable. “My father lived for about two years after her death to make sure I would be secure in my new home before he passed away in his sleep. I’ve been living on my own for about four years now. Plenty of money to survive on and a nice little garden behind a quaint little cabin that my father and I had built together.” There was a small silence for the memory the deceased that hadn’t died at all. “Who was your father? I might have went to school with him.” Jacob asked. Cat shook her head. “Rupert Johanson studied in Massachusetts before meeting my mother in Virginia, where he started a practice.” 'That was the pure truth,' Cat thought with a little less guilt. Jacob was frowning. “I haven’t heard of him.” “He didn’t strive to make his skills famous. He valued his privacy as did our little town of peace.” She hurriedly assured him. “Our town had a low violence count and we liked it that way.” Jacob looked unconvinced, eyeing her intensely as she sat fighting the urge to squirm under his stare. She quickly finished off her brandy, clenching the glass tightly. All this talk of her parents was making her nervous and homesick. While the silence stretched out between them, Cat stared into her empty glass, wondering if her parents were all right. They wouldn’t be aware of her disappearance yet for her vacation was scheduled for a month of relaxation before her big exam. She had called them yesterday morning before this time -travel thing happened so they wouldn’t expect a call for another few days at least. Cat sighed, envisioning her eccentric father examining his skeletal animal models while studying the latest article in the monthly issue of Veterinary Medicine. She could see her mother sitting in her office debriefing for a case the next morning, while dinner burned in the oven. Both wouldn’t notice until the smoke detectors go off, interrupting them so they would venture out to investigate. Just their single-mindedness alone had caused her worry about moving out after high school. She had been afraid that they burn themselves up and the house down. “You miss them.” It was a quietly said statement, full of compassion. Cat looked up, smiling sadly. “I do. They were all I had. Being an only child was lonely enough without losing my parents.” “I can’t imagine. I had both parents and four siblings. All sisters.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Two older sisters and two younger.” Jacob grinned slightly. “There was no loneliness or peace with my family.” Cat tilted her head, intrigued. “Are they in England or up in the north colonies?” “England. We’re scattered around Avon. The two eldest are married to two good men. One a solicitor and the other a blacksmith. Both have children. Matilda, the eldest, has four. Madeline is her first at the age of twelve, Sophie is eleven, Richard is nine, and Julia is seven. My other sister, Lydia, has a eleven year old boy, Patrick, a nine year old girl, Elizabeth, or as I like to her, ‘Lisbeth. She has a lisp. She’s my favorite, despite that fact I’m not suppose to have favorites. She’s the most adventurous one out of the growing bunch.” Jacob grinned at Cat. “You remind me of her. An older version.” Cat laughed. “Your sister must have her hands full. I wasn’t an obedient child.” Jacob laughed with her. “You're right. Lydia has been saying since Lisbeth’s birth that she was going to be the death of her. Lydia also has Liam, who is eight and Kimberley the youngest at six.” “What about your younger sisters?” Cat asked. “Ah! Mary and Rose. They’re twins, you know. Mary was engaged when I left England to come here. She’s been married for five years now and has a five year old named Christine and a set of four year old twins, one named Dominick and the other, Michael. In her last letter, she informed me of another child on the way. Rose is still single, but has a couple suitors. She ignores them, preferring the company of her books.” He paused, polishing of his brandy. “Matilda has had another child after I left. Another girl named Cordelia. She’s five now. Lydia hasn’t been able to have any more. The last tore her badly.” “Sounds nice having sisters.” Cat mused wistfully before perking up. “What about you, Doctor? When are you going to add to your family brood?” Jacob choked, glaring at Cat. “That isn’t any of your business.” Cat just grinned at him until he began to chuckle. Jacob stood, placing his empty glass on his desk before stretching his back. Cat stood as well, placing her glass onto his desk gently. “How about some supper? I’d enjoy the company.” Jacob asked her, smiling. “ You just want to keep an eye on me.” Cat said, amused with her arms crossed. Jacob placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.” Cat raised an eyebrow. Jacob chuckled. “You're right. Now let’s go eat. I’m starved.” Cat shook her head, turning to leave the office. A hand fell on her shoulder at the door. “One of these days I hope you’ll trust me with the truth.” Jacob said softly, gazing at her just as softly. Cat stared at him. “I hope so too.” Both left the office silently and walked companionably towards the mess tent for supper.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:08:20 GMT -5
Chapter 6 Ext. Pembroke (Church) - Sunset Gloom had settled over the countryside, darkening the shadows of the forests that loomed on and over the dusty trail beneath the many trees. A lone rider was galloping steadily down the said trail while the riders’ eyes moved back and forth examining the shadows warily. The forest ended up ahead relieving the trail to pass into an open field. As the rider reached the field, he was given a glimpse of a town up ahead. The rider tapped his heels into the horses sides, picking up his pace. In the residing distance, a tree, with three long objects hanging from one sturdy branch, was visible in the gloom. Gabriel Martin galloped towards Pembroke, only slowing when singing was heard from a distance. His gaze, however, was fixed on the tree. The objects hanging from the tree were bodies. Three men. Gabriel kept his distance, trying not to notice the smell emitting from the bodies. Regret and relief was visible on his face and in his eyes as he stared at the limp bodies. Regret for the loss of three lives and relief for being alive. Here before him was what would have been his fate if his father hadn’t saved him. But what cost did his father pay? What price did his father still owe? What would Gabriel pay for this war of freedom? Didn’t he already pay with his brother? What more could be taken as pay to the devil or...God? With and sigh and a quick prayer for the souls of the three men, Gabriel moved his horse forward, eyes now focused on the church, where the mournful singing was emitting from. The hangings now placed a huge barrier in his way from recruits, but he was up to the task.... anything for freedom...for the New World... Gabriel dismounted in front of the church with his musket in hand and tied his horse to a nearby fence. He turned and slowly approached the church doors. Placing his hand on the door handle, Gabriel took a deep breathe and pushed one door open. As he edged in, the congregation all sang one last note of ‘Amen’ before sitting almost all at once. As Gabriel hung back unsure, Anne Howard spotted him followed by the others after Reverend Oliver. Gabriel swallowed and stepped forward, musket braced on the floor, giving him courage and support. “Reverend, with your permission, I’d like to make an announcement.” Reverend Oliver looked scandalized at the request. “Young man,” He said sternly, spreading his hands out, “this is a House of God.” Gabriel nodded, eyebrows raised. “I understand that, Reverend, I apologize.” Gabriel paused to look over at the right seated congregation. “The South Carolina militia is being called up and I’m here to enlist every man willing.” He was now looking at the left side of seated people, all who looked uneasy. Reverend Oliver stepped down from his high pulpit, mildly incensed at Gabriel’s audacity. “Son,” he began, glowering at Gabriel, “We are here to pray for the souls of the those men hanging outside.” Gabriel shifted slightly as he nodded at the Reverend’s words. “Yes, pray for them, but honor them by taking up arms with us!” “And bring more suffering to this town.” asked a man standing pompously. “If King George can hang those men, he can hang any of us.” stated another man, looking around at all his neighbors. Suddenly Anne Howard, a plain girl, spoke up, eyes and face animated with anger as she addressed the second man. “Dan Scott barely a week ago you railed for two hours about independence.” Murmurs broke out among the folk of Pembroke. “Anne.” The Reverend said in warning to the spirited girl. Standing and ignoring the Reverend and the murmurs, Anne turned her attention to the other man, who had spoken. “Mr. Hardwick, how many times have I heard you speak of freedom at my fathers’ table?” Hardwick glanced away from her, contrite and embarrassed. Anne turned to the whole congregation. She was obviously on a roll. “Half the men in this church including you, Father...,” she addressed her father, who look startled, “... And you, Reverend, are as ardent patriots as I.” Anne paused, watching them all. “Will you now, when you are needed most, stop at only words? Is that the sort of men you are?” Gabriel, who had been smiling through her whole speech, was almost grinning now dazed and proud of the ardent Anne. “I ask only that you act upon the beliefs, of which you have so strongly spoken...,” Anne said softly as her eyes fell upon a smiling Gabriel, “...And in which you so strongly believe.” Gabriel nodded at her, smiling his thanks. He turned to the congregation. “Who’s with us?” He asked. There was silence and a lot of shifting in the benches before on men stood, then another, then another then......Men rose from various placed in the congregation, standing tall and proud with their sons or brothers, who were boys ready to be men. Ext. Pembroke (Outside) - An hour after sunset Women and children were saying their goodbyes to husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. Anne Howard stood with her mother, Jane Howard, and her father, Peter Howard as men packed up their saddle bags. Gabriel hesitantly approached Peter Howard eyeing the large man warily and hopefully. “Mr. Howard?” Gabriel inquired, still clutching his musket. Peter turned to the young man expectantly. Gabriel coughed slightly. “Mr. Howard, sir, may I have permission to write to Anne?” Peter just blinked at Gabriel before holding up a finger for the him to wait. Peter pulled out his hearing tube and placed it in his ear, head tilted to Gabriel. “Eh?” Peter asked shortly. Anne, who had been listening, turned to her father in embarrassment and worry for she knew what he was up to. Meanwhile, Gabriel leaned forward......right in to the Peter’s trap. “May I have..” “Yes...,” Anne interrupted, saving Gabriel from major embarrassment from her father. Peter looked over at his daughter as if to ask, ‘Why did you spoil my fun?’ “...You have permission...,” Anne looked at her father sternly as she finished loud and clear enough for her trickster father, “...To write me.” Fake, yet impressive enough to be believed, comprehension dawned over Peters’ face before he turned back to Gabriel. “To write her.” Peter repeated as he looked fondly back at his daughter, “Very well.” Peter smiled at the relieved and happy Gabriel, who was still unaware (or too dense) of what happened between father and daughter at his expense. “Thank you, Sir.” Gabriel nodded and smiled to Anne then to Jane Howard before walking to mount up with the other men. Reverend Oliver walked past the now smaller congregation with a musket in hand and hat on his head. “Reverend?” Peter asked, puzzled and shocked to see the Reverend with a weapon. Reverend Oliver stopped slowly and turned quickly, half embarrassed. He reached up and removed his wig with he threw to the ground. “A shepherd must tend his flock...,” he placed his hat onto his head firmly, “...And at times, must fight of the wolves.” Anne smirked while her father smiled amused as the Reverend mounted a horse. With multiple shouts, the men rode off, some raising their muskets in salute. Anne walked forward, eyes on the rapidly fading figure of Gabriel Martin as children shouting ran after the riders, waving wildly. Ext. Bradford Crossroads Tavern - Evening (6 - 8 pm) Benjamin Martin and Jean Villeneuve dismounted in front of a rowdy tavern, both silent and wary. As they walked in to the tavern, mean turned to look them over. “Are you sure this is the place to find recruits?,” Villeneuve asked softly, eyeing the men around him. Benjamin hummed before calling , “God save King George!” Men stood, drawing out pistols and knives as Benjamin and Villeneuve backed towards the door. Benjamin lunged for the doorknob, yanking ti open to threw himself and Villeneuve out the door. He slammed the door as curses and shouts broke along with the thud of a knife hitting the door. “We’ve found the right place.” Ben said shortly. Villeneuve nodded slowly, mute at the moment. Benjamin let out a sigh before straightening and opening the door slowly. He peeked in calling, “It’s Benjamin Martin. Don’t fire.” Benjamin opened the door wider and edged inside cautiously. Men eyed him with suspicion and respect as he made his way, with Villeneuve behind him, to the bar. Benjamin smiled lopsidedly at the thin scruffy man behind the bar counter. “Still gettin’ men drunk, Jorkins?” Benjamin asked. Jorkins grinned, revealing yellowed, but strong teeth. “Hell yes! This is where the money goes, Martin.” Benjamin and Jorkins laughed as Villeneuve eyed them curiously. Benjamin caught his Villeneuve's eye and introduced him. “Jorkins, this man here is Jean Villeneuve. He’s French. Jean meet Edward Jorkins. He and I are old friends.” Villeneuve and Jorkins shook hands and nodded to the other. “Jorkins, we’re here to recruit for the South Carolina Militia. Mind if we borrow a table?” Benjamin paused, thinking. “I’ll buy a jug of your best for the recruits.” Jorkins nodded. “Whatever you need. Anything for the anyone who’ll wipe them bastards out.” Benjamin took the jug and between him and Villeneuve pulled a table around facing everyone in the room. The tavern ‘patrons’ watched him curiously and warily, knowing Benjamin’s late history. Benjamin sat down and placed the jug on the end of the table on the other side before pulling a ledger out of his jacket along with a quill and an unopened bottle of ink. Villeneuve stood behind him, with a leg of chicken, given to him by Jorkins when he had asked for something to eat. “Men, listen up! The South Carolina Militia is being called up and here to enlist any man willing.” He paused as men began to mutter to each other. “Any takers?” A rough looking man stood up and walked over to grabbing the jug and taking a swig from it. “Any bounty?” He asked. “No scalp money this time, Rollins, but you can keep or sell back to me the muskets and gear of any redcoat you kill.” Benjamin answered. Villeneuve glanced up at Rollins before returning his attention to the messy and large leg of chicken. Rollins nodded satisfied before bending to sign the ledger. He walked off back to his table as an older man walked up the Benjamin’s table. “My brother was hanged down in Acworth. All those Redcoats deserve to die..” A round of ‘here, here’ filled the tavern at the old man’s words. The old man held up a stump where a hand and forearm should have been. “... I wouldn’t be any use to you, but you can have my negro, here, to fight in my stead.” The old man looked over at a strongly built African American man. “Occam, get over here!” Occam walked over slowly, almost timidly. He kept his gaze on the floor as he wrung his hat brim. “He ain’t overly smart, but he’s strong as a bull.” The old man told Benjamin, ignoring the fact that Occam stood near him, listening. Benjamin was watching Occam. “Can you write? Benjamin asked. Poor Occam looked confused and a little scared as he looked from Benjamin to his old master and back. “N-no, Sir.”Occam stuttered hesitantly. “Well, then make your mark.” Benjamin suggested. The old man spoke up angrily. “Why? I just signed him over to ya.” Benjamin kept his gaze on Occam. “If you’re willing, make your mark.” Occam looks up at Villeneuve, who nods ever so slightly, before looking at his incensed master. Occam sighed, tilting his head and he bent to make his mark in the ledger. Benjamin nods, satisfied as Occam straightened. “That’ll do.” Villeneuve nodded and winked at Occam, who moved away following his soon-to-be ex master. Almost immediately after Occam and the old man moved, a little red haired boy strutted up in a little boy fashion. The little boy folded his arms on the table. “I’ll kill me some Redcoats.” Benjamin stared at the boy, astounded and amused. He leaned forward slightly. “I believe you would. How old are you, son?” A man, the boy’s father, stepped up behind his son and placed a gentle hand on top of his head. “Not quite old enough, but his time will come.” “Billings, I was hoping you’d show up” Benjamin greeted, smiling. Billings led his son out of the way to sign the ledger. “There’s a story going around about twenty Redcoats got killed by a ghost or some damn thing.” Billings gripped the jug and lifted it, watching Benjamin. “It carried a Cherokee Tomahawk.” Billings drank from the jug as Villeneuve glanced at Benjamin, who looked amused. “Aren’t you a little old to be believing in ghost stories?” Benjamin asked smiling. Billings sat the jug down laughing with a high rough pitch. Ext. Fort Carolina - Evening (6 - 8pm) Cat sat beside Jacob, eating venison and some kind of unrecognizable vegetable. Gaterson, Phillips, and Samuels sat across from her talking about the battle that was described to them by the less injured patients. ‘It’s a good thing I’m not squimish, but then again the food itself would turn your stomach.’ Cat thought, eyeing her weird looking supper. “Everything okay, Cat?” Jacob asked from beside her. “Hmm, oh... I’m fine, Jacob.” Cat smiled as she pushed her plate away, having ate her fill. Jacob took a sip of his drink. “The Lord General should be calling a meeting tomorrow morning.” he said after swallowing. Cat nodded. “Good.” Jacob eyed her. “Tavington will be there along with his two officers, Bordon and Wilkins. O’Hara will be there as always never far from the Lord Generals’ coat tails.” Jacob joked. Cat smiled and chuckled. “No doubt it will be an eventful morning. Two stubborn hotheads and one pompous ass all in one room.” Jacob laughed. “No doubt.” He stood, pushing his plate away to leave for the kitchen staff to pick up. “Let’s head back to the Med tents. Shift change is almost here.” Cat nodded, standing following him after saying goodbye to the three left at the table. Cat and Jacob walked in companionable silence to the Med tent where they separated to go about their duties as Nurse and Doctor. Cat helped with trays and trash before helping embarrassed young men to the chamber pot. “Now, young man, you have nothing I haven’t seen before and it’s my duty to help you, so stop resisting before there's an accident.” Cat admonished a young soldier, who had refused her help. The young soldier blushed red and Cat took pity as she grabbed an arm and pulled him up, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Lean on me, Soldier.” Cat ordered him before helping him hobble over to the screen where a chamber pot waited. Cat waited as the soldier took care of his needs before helping him back to his bed where Cat gave him a wet rage to clean his hands with. Soon Cat and others distributed medicine, mostly lauduam for their pain. Cat only had one more patient to settle before heading back to the mansion to sleep. The patient in question was the amputated leg case. Cat stopped her cart and checked the soldiers pulse, watching the face of her pocket watch, courtesy of Jacob. Satisfied by it’s regular beat, Cat lifted his head and removed his pillow. Reaching over to the cart, Cat placed the pillow upon it and grabbed a towel, which she placed under the soldiers’ head. Cat then sat his head down gently before lifted a bowl of warm water from the cart. Cat knelt on the bed and lifted the soldier’s head to place the bowl under it and on the towel. Cat lowered his head until his hair touched the water. While holding his neck gently, Cat grabbed the soap and began to clean his filthy hair. She paused after one rinse to lift it away. She dumped the dirty water into a bucket near the bed for...oral illness. She poured clean water into the bowl from the jug on the cart. All done singlehanded as her other hand cradled his wet, yet still mildly dirty head. Cat placed the bowl beneath his head again and washed it a second time, rinsing it throughly as she cradled his neck. Again she changed the water and washed for a third and final time revealing strawberry blond hair. Cat removed the bowl, placing it on the cart before taking another towel from the cart to wrap around his head. Gently, she rubbed his hair dry, humming as she admired his hair. She placed the towel on the cart and picked up the pillow, placing under his head as she grabbed the other wet towel that had protected his bed and sheet. She placed his head down gently and stood, folding the towel to placed with the other. Dumping the water, she filled the bowl again and wetted a rag, wringing out the excess water. She turned and gently cleaned his face and neck. She unfolded his clenched hands and cleaned the sweat from them being clenched up in pain, indicating that the lauduam was wearing off. Cat placed the rag with the towels and rinsed her hands throughly before picking up the lauduam decanter and pouring two finger lengths into a glass of water. She turned and lifted his head again, cradling it in the crock of her arm as she lifted the glass to his lips. She coaxed them open and poured bit by bit of lauduam lanced water into his mouth as she massaged his throat to employ his swallowing reflex. When he drank all of the liquid, Cat replaced the glass before lifting the blanket from his legs. She only exposed the amputated thigh as she tucked the blanket away. Taking a clean rag, she wet it and cleaned the blood and pus from around the stitches. Rinsing the rag, she wrung it out placing it own the dirty linen around on the cart. Inwardly, she cringed at the volition of infection control. What she wouldn’t give for a proper dirty linen bag/can. Cat dumped half the water and rinsed her hands, drying them on a clean towel before grabbing yet another which she wrapped around his wound, tucking it gently between his leg and the sheet below the thigh. She replaced the covers and tucked them in and around him before pushing the cart back to the storage tent. In the storage tent, Cat placed the dirty linen in the proper baskets, took the lauduam to the locked cabinet, which she unlocked, and placed the lauduam inside before locking it back, dumped the rest of the water, and wiped the bowl down before placing it in it’s placed with the others. She placed the jug of heated, now lukewarm water, on the stove to be used later after another heating. Next, she cleaned down the cart before wheeling it out of the way. She walked out of the storage tent, yawning and scrubbing her face with her hands, now headed towards the mansion. She trudged blearily past many Med tents, barely registering the moans, talking, and shouting. She left it all behind as she reached and walked along the log fence that protected the mansion. She stopped at a little door and tugged. It wouldn’t open. Growling, Cat looked up. “Yo, open the bloody door!” She shouted up at the guard. Guard, obviously confused about the ‘Yo’ yelled down at another man, who unbarred the little door made for the travelers by foot. Mumbling a ‘thank you’, Cat walked past the guard, stumbling slightly as the day caught up with her. She slowly climbed the steps into the mansion yawning hugely as she paused to open the front door. She climbed yet another set of stairs, however, she held onto a barrister this time. Hell, she was leaning on it, almost toppling over the top of it. At the top, she let go of her support and made her way down the hall to her room, which she stumbled into, shutting the door behind her. Even in her tiredness, she remembered to lock the door before kicking off her boots on her way across the room to collapse face down into her bed, where she fell asleep, clothes still on and mind too tired to any thoughts what so ever.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:10:01 GMT -5
Chapter 7 Ext. Some Distant Road- Dawn: 6:00 am It was the beginning of a pleasant day. Birds were chirping and searching for the first worm as the sun peaked down from behind the mountains onto a road where a British convey traveled on. Some soldiers marched on foot as covered wagons wheeled along behind them. It was relatively peaceful until... Men rose from behind trees and bushes, muskets pointed and fired. British soldiers fell rapidly as flashes of musket fire were seen left and right. Sparks soon ignited the wagon covers on fire causing the few soldiers left to shout and run for cover only to be shoot down before one wagon went up in an explosion, thanks to the gunpowder it carried. The men, clearly seen now, were Continental militia. They quickly unloaded the gun powder still left in the other wagons yet to be exploded. With gunpowder and muskets taken from the dead, they moved on, happy with their lot and cowardly victory. Ext. Fort Carolina Mansion Bedroom - 7:00 am Rays of sunshine fell down upon British Headquarters and peeked into every window with curtains drawn back. Beyond one of these windows something groaned and cursed the sun from within... “Ugh!” It grunted as it buried its head under its pillow. “Go away!” Light spread around the cozy room where in its center sat a bed where the something was laying. It was laying atop the covers dressed and without shoes while its back was turned to the window, where the light poured from along with...chirping. “Shut up!” It screamed from under its pillow. Silence reigned over the room, earning a pleased murmur from the creature this time. Minutes ticked by and the creature remained still. The rise and fall of its back revealed that it still lived. Thunk! Thunk! “Miss. Cat? Miss. Cat, the Lord General requests your presence in the study.” A voice called, muffled through the door. Silence answered. “Miss. Cat? Are you all right?” Asked the voice with timid concern. Silence was again the voices answer. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! “Alright! I’m up! Damn morning people!” Shouted the creature. Cat groaned and pulled her head out from under the pillow before rolling... Thump! Bang! “Ouch! Damn it, that hurt!” The maid, who owned the voice, jumped at the sound. Half concerned, half terrified, she knocked again softly. “D..Do you need help, Miss?” “No, I’m fine. Thanks, anyway.” Cat called back from the floor, where she had rolled to from the bed beside her. Grunting, Cat braced her hands on the floor and pushed standing herself up. She glared at the bed as she rubbed her injured arm. “Very well. Good bye, Miss.” The maid called back, lingering for she was still uncertain. Cat rolled her eyes, exasperated at the girl. After smoothing the wrinkled in her shirt and pants the best she could, she walked to the door and wrenched it open. The maid jumped back, startled. She stared at Cat as if she was an unknown and dangerous animal. Cat stared back, amused. She was unaware of her tousled hair and stockinged feet. (Thanks to the other maid, who ‘lost’ her socks) “Mary, I’m fine. Go to your other duties.” Cat prompted, smiling a bit sleepily. Mary smiled back slightly before curtsying. “Yes, Miss.” Mary scurried away, not a hair out place. Cat watched her, hair everywhere and in every which direction there was. Plowing a hand into said hair, Cat turned and walked back into room, picking up her discarded boots on her way back to the bed, where she put them on.She stood and went to vanity where she washed her face and neck, before grabbing her brush and walking to mirror where she preceded to brush her hair up into a sloppy bun. As she stood there in front of the mirror, she grimaced at herself. “I shall have a proper bath tonight.” Cat vowed to her reflection before tossing her brush back onto the vanity. She left her room and clambered down the stairs, where at the bottom, she waved and greeted the servants she knew after only two days. As she reached the study door, she smiled at the doormen. “Hello, boys. How’s it hangin’?” Cat greeted, amused at their confused faces. One of them opened the door and Cat went through, snickeringuntil she beheld the most nauseous thing a person could see in the morning... O’Hara was grinning. Tavington was scowling darkly (no change there) at O’Hara while Cornwallis looked on. Jacob sat quietly, glowering at O’Hara and Tavington. ‘Uh oh, Jacob glowering at O’Hara in not good’ Cat thought. “Good Morning, Gentlemen!” Cat caroled, despite her hatred for the morning and its people. Three men stood at her voice, smiling warmly. Cat glowered at O’Hara before sitting followed by Cornwallis and Jacob. O’Hara remained standing. “Colonel, must I repeat that a gentleman stands when a lady is standing!” O’Hara lectured. Tavington looked up at the general sneering, but before he could say anything Cat spoke. “General, it is seven o’clock in the morning...,” Cat stressed morning as she glowered at the man, “...Shut up!” General O’Hara looked affronted, but Cat turned to Cornwallis, dismissing him. Cornwallis tried to hide a smile. “Miss. Cat, we are here to see if you are able to ride with the dragoons...,” Cornwallis began, “...Doctor Collins and the others are impressed with your work after Camden therefore I shall have you ran a trial with the Dragoons. If Colonel Tavington finds you skilled enough to handle his men and the situations in which you will find yourself in with the Dragoons...,” Cornwallis threw a telling glance at Tavington , who remained passive, his face unreadable, “... Then you shall be allowed to travel with Dragoons for the remainder of this war.” Cat’s eyes narrowed at Cornwallis. “Why the sudden change of heart? Last time it was I went along whether he...,” She jerked her head at Tavington, “...Like it or not after a good report from the doctors.” Cornwallis shifted in his chair before turning stern. “I’m afraid I was a bit too hasty and flippant with my decision last time.” “In another words, you thought I wouldn’t have handled all the blood and gore. Am I right?” Cat asked dryly, nailing the truth on the head if the look on Cornwallis’s face was anything to go by. On her left, Jacob ducked his head to hide a grin. Cornwallis shifted again with a flush to his cheeks under Cat’s knowing eyes. On Cat’s right, Tavington was smirking at Cornwallis’s embarrassment. This was only a mild payback for all the reprimands he had to listen to. O’Hara came to his rescue. “Sir, the other news.” “Oh, yes...,” Cornwallis cleared his throat as he regained his composure, “...There will be a lawn party in nine days hence. All officers are to attend as well as doctors and...,” He leveled Cat with a stare, “...Nurses.” Cat paled as she stared back. “No.” She yelped, a wild look to her eyes. “Oh yes and after lunch today you are to have your first fitting for a ball gown and for other gowns needed for everyday as well.” O’Hara said with relish, thinking he was soothing her worries, when he was really making them worse. He beamed at her, waiting for the enthusiastic ‘thank you’ he was obviously expecting for Cat's chance to get new ‘clothes’. Cat turned her head and narrowed her eyes at O’Hara. “You’ve got to catch me first.” His face was writhed with surprise and confusion at her words asshe turned back to Cornwallis, ignoring the amused Tavington beside her. “Please don’t make me! I don’t wanna go!” She pleaded, her hands pressed together as if in prayer. “You will attend and you will go to your fitting, willingly.” Cornwallis thundered, holding a hand upto stop any protests, “No more. You will and that is final.” Cat crossed her arms as she threw herself backwards into her chair, pouting as she glowered at the smirking Tavington beside her. She scowled. “Ass.” She snapped. “Bitch.” He retorted. “Groveling dog.” She growled. “Clinging Whore.” He hissed. “Enough.” Cornwalis bellowed, slamming a fist onto his desk. “Cease this profanity and vulgarity in my study.” “Yes, my lord.” Both murmured even as they threw venomous glares at each other. Cornwallis relaxed into his chair, sighing deeply. “Dismissed.” He flapped a hand at the door. Tavington, Cat, and Jacob stood and turned towards the door. Cat hightailed it out of the study with Tavington and Jacob following. Silence. “My lord...?” “Yes, General?” “...Was she playing coy?” “...” - - - - - Cat practically ran out of the Mansion and out of the fort all together. She slowed only when she was outside of the high fence and on the path to the tents. Soldiers milled around, some ignoring her, others watching. She ignored them all as she entered the mess tent. Taking a plate, she piled breakfast onto it before sitting down to wolf it down. She finished in record time and left the mess tent to walk to the med tents. She entered the tent beside the Surgery tent and watched as housemen and a few nurses worked diligently, helping with the last breakfast or taking away trays before giving treatment and medicine. Cat breathed in deeply and smiled. Here was where she was needed and where she belonged. ‘For the time being.’ She thought before walking further inside to the cabinets where she grabbed an apron and her cart, which had been prepared bynurseCat was replacing. She wheeled over to her first patient, who was looking much better. “Well, someone’s looking cheerful this morning.” Cat greeted. She smiled down at the young soldier. He turned towards her, face half bandaged along with both hands, and smiled up at her. “It’s nice to know that I’ll live with all limbs attached.” He whispered back, not wanting to stretch or agitate his burned cheek. Cat grinned at him as she gathered her supplies to tend to his burns. She sat on the edge of his bad, a glass of clear liquid in hand. “Any pain?” “Yes.” “Is it a dull, bearable throb or a sharp annoying sting?” She asked, studying his face for any hint to the degree of pain. “The second one.” He said in a low tone. Cat nodded as she lifted and poured a half inch of lauduam into the glass of water. “Thought so. The lauduam from last night hasn’t completely worn off. Lucky you. Burns never feel pleasant with any type of pain reducer.” She tilted the glass to his lips and he drank slowly, but drank it all. She sat the empty glass on the cart before gently and quickly removed the bandage on his cheek. “This will hurt.” She warned as she poured brandy onto a rag. He nodded and braced himself as she placed the brandy soaked rag onto his cheek. He cursed and hissed before quickly glancing at Cat. “Sorry, Miss.” He mumbled as he grimaced. “It’s all right. I curse as well. Just don’t tell anybody.” She winked as she removed the rag and began to apply the burning salve onto his cheek. She put a clean bandage on his cheek before turning to his hands. She unwrapped the bandages around one hand before applying the same salve. She wrapped clean bandages around his hand before repeating the procedure to the other hand. She cleared up before turning back to him smiling. “Need anything else?” Cat asked, smiling down at the young man. “No, Miss, I’m set.” He raised his arms, where a book rested on his forearms. “Okie dokie. Have a nice rest of the day, soldier.” Cat wheeled away, leaving another person to ponder her words. Cat, for the next two hours, helped re-bandaging wounds and gave lauduam to the ones with pain. It was a quarter past nine when she relaxed and realized she only had one patient left. She wheeled her cart over to the amputate patient and smiled down at his sleeping face. She leaned over and gently shook his shoulder. “Soldier? Time to wake up.” Cat caroled. The soldier moaned. “Go away, Sanders.” “Soldier, I’m not Sanders. Now wake up!.” Cat said sternly and loudly. The young soldier jerked awake, staring upwards at her in confusion. Cat smiled down at him. What a mistake! The soldier grinned back and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her atop of him. “Impatient are we, Sweet?” He asked, in what he thought was a suave voice. In answer, Cat reached up and twisted his ear. “Ouch. Let go!” He yelped, trying to twist away from her grip even as he pushed her away. And for the second time that morning, Cat fell...to the floor. Cat cursed and scrambled up to glare down at the soldier, who was running his ear as he scowled up at her. “I’m your nurse, soldier, and you will treat me with respect!” Cat snapped, unaware of two pairs of amused eyes. “You sorry who- Nurse? What? Why?.” The soldier sat up and looked around, confused. In a frenzy , he threw off his covers and froze. Cat was silent, her anger gone as she waited for his next reaction. The soldier stared, disbelieving, at severed thigh. Cat moved forward and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It couldn’t be saved. I’m deeply sorry.” Cat whispered, compassion in her eyes. He lifted dazed eyes to hers and Cat watched as the dazed look disappeared to be replaced by anger. “Sorry? You’re sorry?” Are you missing a leg? Are you half a man? Wait, I’d say that’s a no. You’re just a woman. You understand nothing.” He sneered angrily, shrugging her hand away roughly. Cat’s eyes sparked and narrowed. “Just a woman? Let me tell you something, boy! I’ve seen on man lose both legs, another lost an arm and a leg while another lost both arms as well as a leg! I’ve watched women fall apart when they have been told that their husbands, sons, and brothers aren’t coming home, but are under six feet worth of dirt!” Cat said with deadly calm. “Personally, I had to accept that I would never would have children. However, does that make me less of a woman? I still have the parts don’t I?” Cat gestured angrily to her breasts and lower, “No it doesn’t and a loss of a limb doesn’t make a man any less of man! You can still walk with the help of a cane, yes, but at least you can walk. Some have to live the rest of their lives in a chair!” She paused, enforcing sadness into her face and voice, “At least, you can still have children.” The soldier sat stunned as he stared at her silent and shocked. Cat nodded satisfied and turned to his wound. “Cat!” She turned to Jacob with an uncertain smile. She tilted her head in question. Jacob cleared his throat, obviously fighting laughter as he avoided meeting her eyes. “The Lord General is requesting your presence in his study.” “Ordering, you mean.” Cat retorted dryly, grinning at him. Jacob choked as Wilkins, who stood a few feet behind him stifled a smile. “Yes, well, Anna will take care of...” Jacob trailed off, looking down at the soldier in question. “Mills. Cornet Andrew Mills.” The soldier answered quickly, still staring at Cat in a daze. Jacob nodded. “Anna will take care of him.” “Very well.” Cat nodded to Anna, a petite blonde, who was well liked among the soldiers. “See ya later, Doc.” Cat called over her shoulder as she left the tent with Wilkins. They walked in silence, both looking ahead until... “Was it true?” Cat hid a smile. “Which part?” Wilkins snorted before he could catch himself as he threw her a sidelong glance. They walked through the door into the fort. “Ah, that part. No, it isn't.” Cat threw him a grin. “But he doesn’t know that.” She warned. “Of course.” He assured with a solemn face that was thrown out the door at the amusement in his eyes. As they climbed the stairs, Cat burst into laughter while Wilkins smiled faintly. “Did you see his face?” Cat gasped out. The servants that passed and were passed exchanged looks that clearly said ‘She’s lost it.’ “Indeed. While your method of diversion is unorthodox, it was highly affective. On the behalf of the Dragoon officers, I thank you.” He said formally. At the study door now, all Cat could do was throw him a shocked face before the door was opened once again for them to enter. This time, however, Bordon stood, in Jacob’s stead, beside Tavington. O’Hara was standing behind and off the side of Cornwallis, who was seated as usual behind his desk. ‘An authority thing.’ Cat mused as she walked up to stand on Tavingtons’ left. Wilkins stood beside Bordon, who stood on Tavingtons' right. “What do I owe for this summons, sir?” Cat asked sarcastically. Cornwallis chose to ignore her tone. “A convey was suppose to be here at nine o’clock...” Cat and Tavington both waited with barely concealed impatience. Bordon and Wilkins remained unreadable. “...Alas, however, it is not here therefore you, Cat, will go along with the Dragoons to find this missing convey.” He paused and waited until he locked eyes with Cat’s. “This your trial, Cat. No tents, cots, or safe working conditions.” “I’m well aware of that, Sir. Aren’t we wasting time?” Cast asked, anger a faintly visible in her face. Cornwallis’s face reddened in anger. “Do not speak so to me, Miss. Johanson. You benefit and live on my good graces.” Cat pressed her lips into a thin line and she spoke through gritted teeth. “Understood, my lord.” “Good.” He shifted his gaze to the others. “Dismissed. All of you.” Cat turned and stalked out. She was at the bottom of the mansion stairs when she came to jerking stop thanks to the hard hand gripping her shoulder. “What?” She snapped, turning furious eyes to Tavington. Tavington narrowed his eyes at her as his grip tightened on her shoulder causing her to flinch. “You will address me with respect in front of my men and you will follow my orders precisely and without question. Understood?” Tavington barked, glaring at her while standing way too close as he towered over her trying to intimidate her. Cat returned his glare before nodding after another painful squeeze from his hand. “Understood, Colonel, sir.” Cat said, her tone barely respectful. “Good. Come along.” He let her shoulder go before turning and striding away. Cat scowled at his retreating back before following, brimming with anger. They stopped at the stables where Tavington, Bordon, and Wilkins mounts their saddled horses. Cat stood quietly, staring at the various Dragoon mounted horses. Tavington moved his horse close and sneered down at her. “Well? What are you waiting for?” Tavington gestured over towards a huge black horse, saddled, but unmounted. Cat followed the gesture and stared openmouthed at the horse. ‘Beautiful,’ was her first thought. Her second... ‘I’m going to die.’ The beautiful horse was huge and pawing the ground before rearing repeatedly, trying to get away from the five grooms, who were trying, in vain, to control him. Cat, against all better judgement, began walking toward the horse. “Sir, do you think...” “Silence.” Tavington ordered, watching Cat and the horse with a predatory gaze. “Just watch.” The horse caught sight of Cat as she approached and stilled, tense and ready to strike. Cat went slowly, hands held out from her body and shaking as she watched the horse watch her. She stopped as he reared, kicking out and pawing the air with his strong legs before returning to the ground. The five grooms moved in and held him firmly. Cat walked forward and grabbed the reins from one of the grooms. “Move.” She ordered loudly. The grooms gladly scattered and the horse reared again, obviously trying to scare her. “Down now!” Cat commanded, tugging firmly on the reins. He returned to the ground and charged. Cat fell backwards onto her ass, but didn’t get angry. Cat tugged on the reins, bringing the horses head closer so she could grab the bridle. She brought his face close and looked into his light brown eyes that almost appeared red. Her green ones reflected understanding and anger while his reflected rage and fear. “I won’t hurt you and if you do that to me again, you can forget any extra scoop of oats, buster.” Cat warned in a gentle, but firm tone. He lifted his head and nudged her shoulder. Cat stroked his forelock and kept talking in a low voice. “I think you and me will get along fine.” Cat observed, smiling before he lifted his head and blew a raspberry into her face. Cat was frowning as he nickered and stomped the ground in his horsie amusement. “Are you two through yet or do you need some more privacy? We are wasting time, you know.” Tavington called sarcastically. He was smirking as he watched her and the horse. Bordon and Wilkins exchanged a look. “Bite me, Colonel.” Cat called back with good humor. The Dragoons gaped at her than at Tavington, who looked startled, angry, and bemused before a gleam entered his cool eyes. He grinned, showing strong white teeth as he eyes Cat with a barely concealed hunger. Men shuddered and pitied Cat as they beheld the sight of a maliciously grinning Tavington. He looked hard and cruel and had a disturbing resemble of a shark, who had just pinpointed his prey. Cat failed to notice all of it as she was trying to mount her new horse. As soon as her fot neared the stir up, the damn horse would move. “Stop it.” Cat huffed, half angry, half amused. Cat bite her lip, thinking then... “Oh look...” The horse stared at her, his lip curled up, showing big wicked looking teeth. His eyes seemed to say, ‘Do I look stupid to you?’ Cat was torn between laughter and tears of frustration. “Stop moving then.” Cat snapped half heartedly. She lifted her left foot and the horse remained still. She put her foot into the stir up and lifted her body... The horse moved forward and Cat clung to him, awkwardly throwing her leg over the horse before she straightened up in the saddle and gripped the reins firmly, yet loosely as to not hurt his tender mouth. “Let’s go.” Cat pressed her right thigh and leg into his right side as she tugged the reins to the left commanding the horse to move left towards Tavington and the others. Cat sat straight and proud in the saddle as she stopped in front of Tavington. “Well? What are we waiting for?” Cat asked snidely. They moved out of the fort with Cat and Tavington leading followed by Bordon and Wilkins. Outside the gate, Tavington moved his horse close to hers before leaning over to nip her ear. Cat jumped and yelped to her horses’s annoyance, who flickered his ears irritably. Cat turned to Tavington angry, confused, and yes damn it, aroused. “What the hell was that for?” She demanded “Language, Miss. Johanson.” Tavington tsked, grinning devilishly. “Tavington.” Cat growled in warning. His grin widened as he moved closer leaning close to her face and ear. “You said, ‘Bite me, Colonel.’ I thought to oblige...” Tavington explained huskily, blue eyes warm and victorious as he watched her shivered, her eyes wide and dilated in reaction to his voice. “...the lady.” Cat added, her eyes just as warm as his, yet narrowed in suspicion. He clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Why do you all keep insisting that there is a lady present when I fail to see one?” Cat’s eyes blazed in fury and amusement. “Hmm, yes, well, why would any women want to be bitten by a...mutt.” Cat hissed, leaning over so that they were nose to nose. Tavington smirked. “That might be so, however, I didn’t bite a woman. This...mutt bit a cat, who has yet to learn her place.” Tavington straightened away from her and rode on calling over his order for his subordinate. “Beside me, Bordon.” Bordon rode past Cat with a questioning look mingled with sympathy before turning unreadable as he approached his commander. Wilkins took Tavington place beside her and both followed Tavington and Bordon, both silent as Cat kept her stare on Tavington’s back.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:17:10 GMT -5
Disclaimer: The song To get where I'm Goin' belongs to Brad Paisley/DollyParton and the songwriters. Chapter 8: Part 1 Ext. Somewhere Near the Some Distant Road- Noon They had been riding for about hour or more in silence, which was driving Cat slowly insane. “What’s my horses’ name?” Cat asked, turning her head to stare at Wilkins. Wilkins glanced at her quickly. “Lucifer.” Cat stared at him openmouthed in horror. “You’re pullin’ my leg.” Cat scoffed. “Right?” “Why would I pull your leg?” Poor Wilkins looked lost. “Oops. Wrong choice of words.” Cat said with a chuckle. “ What I mean is you’re teasing me about his name. His name really isn’t Lucifer is it?” Wilkins glanced her again, this time smiling just bit. “Yes. Fits doesn’t it?” Cat glanced at him sharply. “Wilkins! You just made a joke!” Wilkins laughed shortly. ‘Yes, I have been know to make a few, Miss.” “ mean no offence. I like your humorous side. You should show it more often.” “Like your anger.” Wilkins asked with a smirk. Cat gaped before laughing outright. Wilkins smiled, eyes friendly as he relaxed in Cat’s company for the first time since they met. - - - - - Ahead of Cat and Wilkins, Colonel Tavington turned his head just the slightest bit in Cat’s direction. Bordon watched him from the corners of his eyes while a smile played faintly on his lips. “She’s a spirited girl.” Bordon ventured, staring ahead. Tavington raised an eyebrow at him. “Spirited, yes. A girl, hardly.” Bordon nodded, pursing his lips in feigned thought. “You're correct. She does have the curves of a woman. Rounded curves in all the right places.” Tavington glanced at Bordon amused. “ I don’t think your wife would take too kindly to such talk, Bordon.” Bordon laughed. “Too true. Yet it doesn’t hurt to look when she’s not about. However, I don’t think Cat would take to kindly at being looked at or to being asked to be anyone’s mistress.” Tavington threw Bordon an amused glance, smirking slightly. “I’d like to see a man stupid enough to try.” Bordon laughed and Tavington smiled in good humor, envisioning Cat laying into the man offering her the chance of being his mistress. It was so hilarious that Tavington laughed a bit with Bordon before all humor evaporated as the road ahead came into view... - - - - - Cat and Wilkins came to stop behind Tavington and Bordon, silent and remorseful at the sight before them. Cat’s eyes closed, all laughter and good humor gone. She opened her eyes and dismounted, tossing her reins to Wilkins before untying the bag that had been tied to saddle before they had left the fort. She ran past Tavington and Bordon, her mind on all the men scattered across the ground like discarded flowers. She heard Tavington give orders to dismount, but she ignored him. The men on the ground (the ones still alive at least) needed her. “Help me find the ones still alive.” she called over her shoulder as she knelt, fingers searching for pulses, the sign for life, in various necks. Dragoons spread around checking the bodies, some calling out ‘This one is alive’ as others remained stonily silent as they moved among the bodies. Tavington was heard giving orders for holes to be dug. Dragoons with shovels brought from the fort began digging off in a clearing near the forest. Cat went from man to man and counted four severely injured and seven with minor injuries. She gave out lauduam lanced water from a canteen, thoughtfully provided by Jacob, for pain. The four were given more than average for they were in agony and welcomed the bliss of deep painless sleep. She bandaged and disinfected wounds before going about the ugly tasks. She stitched up two men before turning to another man who needed to have a bone set. “Hold him.” Cat ordered to a rough, burly Dragoon, who had prevailed it upon himself to follow and assist her. He knelt and held down the soldier’s arms as ordered. Cat smiled at him quickly before shifting and resetting the femur bone in the soldier’s leg. She glanced around and called to Wilkins, who was only a few feet away. “Wilkins, break that bayonet off that musket by your foot and bring the musket, unloaded, to me, please.” Wilkins nodded, confused and did as she asked. He checked to see if it was loaded and found that it wasn’t. He walked over and handed it down to Cat, who accepted, aware of Tavington baring down on her. Cat braced the musket against the straightened femur, keeping it in place. She looked up and around, searching. “What the hell are you doing, Johanson?” Tavington demanded to know as he stopped nearby to tower over her as she knelt on the ground. She ignored him. “Wilkins, find a....dead man’s shirt and tear off two long strips.” Wilkins glanced at Tavington, who was just staring down at her, waiting. Cat sighed. “I’m doing my job, Colonel. I’m setting his leg, but I need something long and sturdy to tie the musket to the leg securely.” Tavington shifted his gaze to the leg then to soldier’s face, which was red, dirty, and tense with pain despite the landuam. “Do it.” Tavington commanded quietly to Wilkins. Cat smiled gratefully up at Tavington for the first time since they met. “Thank you, Colonel.” Tavington stared down at her before striding away without a word. Cat watched him, but tore her gaze away as Wilkins returned with the strips. Cat made quick work tying the ‘spilt’ to the soldier’s leg before giving him more lauduam laced water and moved on to the next man, then to the one after that... The four severely wounded needed the skills she didn’t possess, but she patched them upbest she could. She stood and looked around for the Colonel. She spotted him and approached cautiously. “Colonel, are any of the wagons useable and safe?” ‘Yes.” he answered curtly, glancing at her shortly. “Then can the men hitch up a horse or two and take the four men over there back to the fort to get the care they need.” Cat waited, expecting a snide comment about her medical skills. She didn’t get any. “Very well.” Cat watched Tavington stride away to arrange the medical transportation. She studied him with his back to her. He was quick and precise as he gave his orders and the wagon was quickly hitched up under his hard gaze. Even from this angle, Cat could tell he was angry and for once his anger wasn’t directed at her. No, this time it was solely directed at the Continentals. And Cat couldn’t fault him his anger. She was anger at the Continentals as well, despite her support for the Continental cause. She was horrified at what had happened here. Now she understood why men and women in her time were so emotional about war. It was a horrifying and sober experience. No one should have to go through it, yet many have, still do, and will go through a war. Now she understood why women were kept from war so long. The men were protecting them physically and emotionally. She saw all sides now and still felt anger, confusion and sadness along with understanding and compassion. It was there and thenthat Cat knew she wouldn’t be same after this day and after this war, if she stayed or lived through it. Cat’s eyes fell to the ground and closed on tears as her gaze encountered a soldier’s, no... a boy’s face.In the boy’seyes was terror and disbelief that was frozen as it was forever in death. Such terror didn’t belong on his or any boy’s face. It was heart wrenching and Cat thanked god that in her time there was an age limit. “Miss. Johanson?” Cat jumped slightly at Bordon’s voice and turned quickly, hoping he hadn’t seen any of her grief. The last thing she needed was Tavington exploited her forher emotions. Of course, she had no such luck as she met Bordon’s sympathetic eyes. “Yes, Captain?” Cat asked, dropping her eyes from his. “We’ve found another one. He looks bad, Miss.” Cat’s eyes hardened as her jaw flexed and tensed. “Show me.” Bordon turned and made his way to the injured soldier, Cat in tow. As they neared the body, Cat could see that the soldier was in rough shape, obviously in need of a doctor fast. She knelt beside him and moved his shirt away from the wound. She turned her head away from all the eyes she felt on her and let out a shaky breath. This soldier was in the worst shape of the all. She turned back and smiled brightly down at the soldier. “We’ll patch this up in a jiffy, soldier.” Cat said, just as brightly and falsely as her smile. Boots appeared in her vision and she turned her face to them, following them up a pair of legs and body until her green gaze locked with blue. His asked the question and hers answered. The soldier had no chance. Cat watched as the skin over his cheekbones went taut even as he nodded to her in a calm manner. Indeed of grief, anger was evident in his face and body language. Anger seemed to take the place of all other emotions for the man. Cat turned her attention back to the soldier as she set about making him comfortable. Bordon and Tavington moved away and Cat relaxed just a bit. She couldn’t help, but be stiff under their gazes, thinking that they were judging her every move. She was cleaning the wound when a weak hand grasped her wrist causing her to still in surprise. Cat looked over at the soldier with questioning eyes. “I’m not going to make it, am I?” he asked with a raspy voice. He watched her like a hawk, despite his weakness of body. Cat hesitated before nodding ascompassion softened her face from it’s usually grim set. “I’m sorry.” she whispered, smiling weakly. “Don’t be. I’ve been in the army for ten years now. I’ve been waiting for my turn.” he explained, grinning slightly. “It’s time for me to join my comrades in the sky.” “Do you have any family?” Cat asked as she shifted around close to his head, which she lifted and placed on her lap, smiling down into his pale friendly face. “A mother and a brother who’s married with a couple children.” he answered, closing his eyes as he rested his weary head in Cat’s lap. “Would you like me to write them?” Cat asked softly. He opened his eyes. “Would you? It would make my mother feel better, hearing from someone, who was here with me ..in the end.” Cat nodded and listened as he told her his name and his family’s address in England. “Thank you.” Cat chuckled a bit in surprise and confusion. “What for?” “For trying to save me. For offering to write my family. For letting me rest in your lap, which probably belongs to some other man waiting for you to return to him.” Cat laughed. “There’s no man waiting for my lap. If there was, he would have to get over it. My lap nor me would belong to him...completely.” “Well, whoever does snatches you up, I hope he knows what a gem he acquired.” Cat blushed. “Hardly a gem. Ask anyone one of the men around here.” she chuckled softly before smiling down at him. “I’m really glad to be here...well... I mean...” He chuckled weakly, coughing a little. “I understand.” Cat just smiled lopsidedly. “Could you do me a favor?” he asked, hesitating, his voice weaker and lower. “Anything.” “Sing to me.” Cat looked shocked at the strange request. “Are you sure? I really don’t have a good voice.” “Doesn’t matter. Please!” His eyes pleaded with her. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She joked softly. Taking a deep breath, Cat began to sing, softly and a little off key, a song from her century that she loved to hear ... “When I get where I’m going
On the far side of the sky
The first thing that I’m gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly” A bird in a nearby tree took flight, soaring over the carnage and Dragoons below. “I’m gonna land beside a lion
And run my fingers through his mane...” Cat glanced up and locked eyes with her blue-eyed human lion and selfishly imagined running her fingers through his long hair. “...Or I might find out what it’s like
To ride a drop of rain” A tear was dangling on one of her eyelashes as she stroked her fingers through the dying soldiers’ hair. The tear fell, but was carried away by a gentle breeze before it could fall on the soldier. “Yeah, when I get where I’m goin’
There’ll be only happy tears...” Cat smiled through her tears at the soldier’s half open eyes. He tried to smile back. “...I will shed the sins and the struggles
I have carried all these years...” Cat thought about what the soldier had said. Ten years in the British Army. Half spent killing and the other just plain trying to survive. “...And I’ll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear...” Cat laid a hand over his heart and watched as he slowly placed his over hers. Cat met his eyes and only saw acceptance and...relief in them. “...Yeah, when I get where I’m goin’
Don’t cry for me down here” A tear finally fell onto the soldier, who shook his head just slightly at Cat. “I’m gonna walk with my grandaddy
And he’ll match me step for step
And I’ll tell him how much I missed him
Every minute since he left
And then I’ll hug his neck” Cat watched as the soldiers’ eyes fluttered before whispering one word, “Father.” Bravely and with a wobbly voice, Cat continued, remembering that the last sense a person lost in death was sound... “Yeah, when I get where I’m goin’
There’ll only be happy tears...” Cat choked slightly as a tear slipped from one of the soldiers’ eyes. “...I will shed the sins and the struggles
I have carried all these years
And I’ll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear
Yeah, when I get where I’m goin’...” Cat’s voice cracked as the soldier took one last deep breath before his heart, which rested under Cat’s palm, ceased to beat. Cat’s eyes closed, but she continued the song, determined to finish ... “...Don’t cry for me down here
So much pain and darkness...” In the back of her mind, Cat remembered the soldiers still living and in pain. Overhead the sun was blocked by the clouds, casting darkness below... “...In this world we stumble through
All these question I can’t answer
And so much work to do” Behind an unaware Cat, all the Dragoons were silent and still, watching and listening, their duties forgotten for the time being. Even Colonel William ‘The Butcher’ Elliot Tavington stood unmoving and silent, watching Cat intently with a ‘light in his eye’... “Yeah, when I get where I'm goin' There'll be only happy tears I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years And I'll leave my heart wide open I will love and have no fear Yeah, when I get where I'm goin' Don't cry for me down here
But when I get where I’m goin’
And I see my Maker’s face
I’ll stand forever in the light...” Overhead, the clouds moved on, letting the sun shine light down below as Cat raised her face up to the warmth of the suns’ rays. “...Of His amazing grace
Yeah, when I get where I’m goin’
There’ll be happy tears...
I will love and have no fear...
Yeah, when I get where I’m goin’” Cat’s voice faded as she looked down into the dead soldier’s peaceful face. She bent and placed a soft kiss against his forehead before gently placing his head back onto the ground. Shakily, Cat stood and walked away. As she reached Tavington’s side in passing, he reached out and placed a gentle hand onto shoulder. Cat paused and lifted a hand to touch his softly before walking away to return to her living patients. - - - - -
They were on their way back to the fort with Tavington and Bordon still in the lead. Cat rode along in silence beside Wilkins, who kept throwing her worried glances. Behind them was a wagon with the seven men with minor injuries piled inside. The other wagon that had been salvageable had been sent ahead long before the ‘Dragoon procession’ moved out. Cat occasionally looked behind her, checking on her patients with dim dead eyes. It was the eyes that gave Wilkins the sign to worry. Cat’s eyes were never dull or dead. They were always alive and bright in some way. They either sparkled in anger or danced with laugher and mischief. There was always some kind of emotion in her green eyes. Now they looked like... Tavingtons’ eyes. Devoid of any emotion except her new eyes lacked the chilling coldness that Tavingtons’ eyes alwayspossessed. Wilkins knew the soldier’s slow death in her arms hit her hard, but didn’t know what to say to ease the grief she seemed to be locked in. All Wilkins could do was worry and hope that Jacob Collins knew what to do when they reached the fort.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:17:59 GMT -5
Up ahead loomed Fort Carolina, but Cat hardly noticed. Her mind was consumed with ‘the song’ and the image of the soldier’s peaceful and dead face. Dimlyshe heard the gate watchers yell down greetings as they opened the gate to admit the Dragoons. Cat separated from the procession with the wagon following her as she rode towards the lines of tents. Unknown to her, Tavington watched her, holding up the procession. Bordon and Wilkins exchanged looks of worry and speculation before following their now moving commander into the fort. In a daze, Cat dismounted from Lucifer and tied him to the wagon as doctors, housemen, and nurses spilled from the medical tents Jacob came out with flow and spotted her. “We received the four men about an hour ago. They’ll be fine now that they are comfortable and in recovery, which, regrettably, is going to be long and painful.” Jacob greeted, smiling lopsidedly. “Good.” Cat answered in a monotone. Jacob’s smile faded as he took in her blank face and dead eyes. He gripped her shoulders and shook her slightly. “Cat? What’s wrong? What happened out there?” he asked calmly, yet a note of urgency could be heard in his voice. Cat didn’t answer. Jacob cursed the air blue as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to lead her to his tent. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go with that man. It was just asking for trouble." he admonished himself as Cat meekly followed where he led her. In his tent, Jacob sat her down and went about getting a strong drink for her. Finding a clean glass, he poured about three fingers of brandy into the glass. He thrust the glass into her hand, forcing her to grip it. “Drink it.” he ordered, arms folded across his chest as he looked down at her sternly. Cat did as she was ordered, coughing and spluttering as she drank. When she drank all, but a finger's worth of brandy, Jacob tookthe glass and set it on a table that sat nearby. He then knelt in front of her, looking up at her with serious concerned eyes. “Tell me.” he ordered, listening patiently as she began speaking slowly, but soon more quickly until finally she was in his arms sobbing. Jacob stood with her in his arms and sat down in the chair, settling her on his lap so she could cry in comfort as he hugged her tightly, his own eyes shut in grief for her pain. - - - - - Meanwhile Tavington and Bordon were standing in Cornwallis’s study, ready to give the report. Cornwallis was seated behind his desk writing in a book of some kind, clearly going to make the two men wait. Soon, however, he put his quill down before sanding what he wrote. He finally looked up, studying the men before him. Captain Neil Bordon was as unreadable and erect in stance as always, but Cornwallis detected something beneath the calm exterior presented to him. It was something that was probably bothering Colonel Tavington, who also stood erect, but visibly tense and not with the usual anger. Cornwallis studied his protégée closely, observing the tense shoulders and jaw as well as the restless eyes. They were as cool as always, but something lurked beneath the coolness for once and the fact that Cornwallis could see it there disturbed him. For as long as Cornwallis had knownColonel Tavington, he had never seen anything in the younger man’s eyes except that formidable coolness that froze a man to his toes. So seeing this disturbing change made Cornwallis wonder what exactly happened out there? “Report.” Cornwallis barked shortly, his hands foldedon the top ofhis desk. “My lord,” Tavington bowed, “ We found the supply convoy or what was left of it...” Cornwallis raised his grey eyebrows. “The supplies were gone and one wagon was destroyed. Ten men were dead, four severely injured, and seven with minor injures. They are receiving care now.” Tavington feel silent, his eyes darker than usual. “And how did Miss. Johanson fair?” Cornwallis asked slowly, realizing that Cat was involved with whatever was bothering the two officers. Colonel Tavington hesitated before speaking quietly, voice full of sincere respect. “Miss. Johanson has highly exceeded my... low expectations. She was quick and efficient with her duties and even went far beyond her duty by helping a dying soldier pass comfortably and peacefully.” he paused to lock his eyes onto Cornwallis’s. “I would consider it a... honor to have Cat Johanson ride with Green Dragoons.” Cornwallis was surprised and knew there was more to the story, but he curbed his curiosity... for now. “Very well, Colonel. You and the Dragoons have acquired a new rider and nurse.” he paused to study the Colonel. “ I will leave the duty of telling her the news to you.” Tavington nodded his acceptance as he bowed. “Thank you, my lord.” “Dismissed.” Tavington and Bordon clicked heels as they bowed before striding out, leaving the Lord General intrigued and bursting with curiosity. He’d have to send O’Hara down to the tent barracks to find out exactly what happened. - - - - - Cat was in one of the medical tents helping Jacob with his check ups on the soldiers from the convey. Cat was better, not great, but better asshe laughed and joked with Jacob and the soldiers. It would take time, but she would heal and would see that what she experienced was a lesson, a lesson she would need to remember for she would need to teach it later on to another... Cat was bending over a patient, checking the wound for infection when she heard the voice of Doom calling her name... “Miss Johanson?” Cat straightened from her hunch to turn quickly and stare wide eyed as Doom descended upon her. “Oh no!” she whispered, horrified at the sight. “You’re not taking me willingly.” she shouted, startlingly everyone in the tent. “Miss. Johanson, really! It’s not proper to raise your voice so.” O’Hara admonished as Cat backed away. “Now we must hurry to the mansion for your fitting.” “No!” she yelped before turning to crash into a huge burly chest of red. Cat swallowed as she leaned her head backwards, following the chest and huge neck to the grim face of Defeat. “Meet Sergeant Stone, Miss. Johanson. He shall be going to the mansion with us.” O’Hara slyly said from behind her. “H..Hello. Good bye!” Cat moved to dart around the giant only to be caught and lifted onto a broad shoulder. “No! Put me down!” Cat railed down at him as she lifted her upperbody by bracing her hands against the Sergeant’s back. “Unhand me, you bastard.” Cat bellowed, beating his back with one fist as she wriggled and kicked, trying to free herself. The sergeant just reached up silently and grabbed her legs, clamping them together tightly. “I’ll have your head for this! Do you hear me? I’ll cut off your ears, your nose and then I’ll poke out your eyeballs.” Cat threatened, ignoring the laughing crowd that had gathered off to the sides to watch the trio. Unknown to her, the Dragoons were standing far back in the crowd along with Tavington, Bordon and Wilkins. They watched silently until the Dragoon that had helped Cat earlier that day spoke up. “Sir?” Tavington turned his side slightly. “No. She needs to be angry.” Tavington turned his face forward to watch the trio disappear inside the fort. “She needs the fight.” The burly Dragoon nodded reluctantly as some of the others nodded in agreement with the Colonel. Suddenly Tavington smirked. “I have a feeling that she’ll pay O’Hara back accordingly.” Bordon and Wilkins nodded, grinning along with the others, including the burly Dragoon, who had wanted to rescue Cat. - - - - - By the time the trio reached the mansion, Cat was hoarse, but still angry. She was quiet as they made their way down the hall to the parlor where the seamstress waited. They walked into the room with O’Hara leading as he greeted someone Cat couldn’t see, considering her ass faced them. “Madame Lewis! I apologize for us being late.” O’Hara simpered in his nauseating way. Cat mimed him and failed to see O’Hara kiss the lady’s hand as he bowed. Cat, however, did hear a high-pitched giggle. “Oh... it’s quite all right, General.” said the giggler with a simper that almost rivaled O’Hara’s. “Let her down, Sergeant.” O’Hara ordered and Cat was promptly dumped to the floor on her ass...hard. “Owww! That hurt, you son of bitch!” Cat snapped, glaring up at the sergeant, who was smirking down at her. “Oh my goodness!” The giggler gasped from behind Cat. “Miss. Johanson, please refrain from using such language.” O’Hara snapped, glaring down at Cat, who, childishly, stuck her tongue out at him. O’Hara chose to ignore her gesture as he addressed the Sergeant. “Guard the door from the outside.” The Sergeant left without a word, shutting the door behind him. Cat stood and rubbed her sore backside as she turned around. Beside O’Hara, stood a gingered haired and blue eyed woman with the hourglass figure that was only achieved by the use of a corset. She was pretty with her delicate bone structure and little pert nose. She was even prettier as she smiled pleasantly at Cat, who could see the disgust and ridicule in the woman’s eyes. Cat hated her. Madame Lewis was the type who promoted ‘proper behavior’, but failed to practice it when behind closed doors. Cat was sure she was one of those who gossiped about the people who were unlucky by getting caught doing the things that Madame Lewis did herself. “Well, I see that I will definitely need all my expertise to change Miss. Johanson into a... beauty of the ball.” Madame Lewis twittered, sneering ever so slightly. Cat scowled. She hated it when people ‘twittered’. “Indeed, Madame...” “Oh, please call me Annabelle, General.” Madame Lewis interrupted, fluttering her lashes up at O’Hara, who puffed up his chest in pride. “Very well. Call me Charles when appropriate, of course.” he answered pompously. Cat rolled her eyes as she gagged in disgust. “Now I shall leave all you ladies alone to get to work.” O’Hara bowed, kissing Annabelle’s hand before leaving, but not without a last stern glance at Cat, who just rolled her eyes again. As soon as the door clicked shut, Annabelle Lewis turned her malicious attention to Cat, who scowled, ready to do battle. “Girls, strip her.” Annabelle ordered, smirking as Cat watched wide eyed as five girls leapt from the shadows to attack her. Cat fought back, like a wildcat, kicking, biting, and punching, but in the end Cat ended up in just her bra and panties. Cat was scowling as she crossed her arm over her breasts. “Remove those contraptions and put a chemise on her.” Annabelle commanded, her pert nose wrinkled in distaste. And so the battle resumed and again, Cat lost, much to her displeasure. “Now to begin the real work. First the ball gown.” Annabelle moved over to a settee covered in fabrics of all colors imaginable (for that century) and beckoned to Cat with a finger. “You chose or I chose for you.” Annabelle threatened with an evil look in her eyes. Cat walked over slowly and looked over the piles laid out before her. She timidly sorted through them, grudgingly admitting that if she has to wear dresses she might as well pick out the material and colors. As she rummaged through, discarding this and that, a bolt a fabric caught her and then and there an idea began to form...
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:21:40 GMT -5
Chapter 9 Chapter 9 Cat, dressed in her loved shirt and pants, walked into her medical tent, ignoring the jokes that were being flung her way. As she entered, almost everyone looked at her, smiling and laughing. “One would have thought you were going to your death.” Jacob called to her, laughing along with his patients. “Or being carried off to be ravished.” Anna piped in, sneering lustily as she thought back to the sergeant, who had carted Cat off to her Doom. “You can have him, Anna. I sure as hell don’t.” Cat answered, disgust clear in her voice and in her face. Anna just shrugged at her before returning her attention to her patient. Cat passed Jacob, who gave her a searching glance lanced with concern. She nodded to him reassuringly before walking away towards the last row of cots. She wasn’t on duty, but she was visiting one certain patient. The patient caught sight of her and Cat smiled at the nervousness in his face. “Hello, soldier. Remember me?” Cat greeted, sitting gingerly on the side of his cot. “How could I forget?” He laughed lightly, obviously uncomfortable under Cat’s sharp eyes. Cat laughed with him, which relaxed the soldier somewhat. “Too true, Andrew. Can I call you Andrew?” Cat asked, smiling as her head tilted to the side in question. “Please, Miss.” He assured her, returning the smile warily. “Oh, relax! I’m not going to flip out on you again! I promise.” Cat assured him with a laugh. Andrew looked confused by her words, but apparently got the jest of them as he relaxed fully back into his pillow. “Now let’s take a look at your thigh. Was Anna thorough?” Cat asked as she moved the sheet away from his legs She glanced up sharply when Andrew bursted into laughter. Quickly, Cat realized what she had said and what it had implied. She snorted with laugher. “Poor choice of words.” “I’ll say, Miss.” Andrew sputtered as Cat bent her dark head to look over his leg wound. It looked good. No infection and the skin was mending together. She flipped the sheet back over his leg. “It looks great. A few more days and we can take the stitches out. After that we’ll start you on a crutch then as cane.” Cat informed him as he settled down. He nodded. Cat watched him as he hesitated to speak. Cat titled her head at him. “What?” He shifted in his cot. “Is it true?” Cat pretended ignorance. “ What was true?” “When you said you couldn’t have children. Is it true?” “Ah..Do you know you’re not the first to ask me that..” Cat smiled, remembering Wilkins before the ‘mission. “...I’m afraid it’s not true, but it got the point across didn’t it?” Andrew let out a gust of air, nodding. “I’m glad it’s not true. I have a family and couldn’t imagine not having children around.” “Well, I’m not in a hurry to have any, yet I wouldn’t mind having a few later on.” Cat answered, smiling softly as she imagined a little boy with dark hair and blue eyes that were very familiar. “How many is a few?” He asked with serious eyes. “You’re Catholic.” Cat observed. “Proudly.” He retorted grinning “Hmm, well, to put your mind to rest... No more than four, but if mother sees fit to spring another one, I won’t be...getting rid of it.” “Good.” He looked and sounded pleased. Cat rolled her eyes as she stood. “Good night, Andrew.” “Good night, Miss.” Cat left the Med. tent, envisioning a tub with steam rising off hot water it contained. ‘A bath,’ she moaned to herself inwardly as she entered the fort. She made a direct path to the kitchen. Inside the kitchen women were cleaning and doing early preparations for breakfast tomorrow. “Excuse me?” Women turned their heads as one to Cat’s direction.Manyhad curiosity written plainly across their faces. “Yes?” one of them inquired. “Could I have a bath prepared in my room?” Cat asked timidly. If Cat really had been a cat, her ears would have been flat against her head for when women, especially the motherly types, were in groups, you either ran or approached with extreme caution and bravery. “Of course, Miss. The men will be up with the tub and water soon.” Another womananswered nicely, smiling at Cat with friendliness. “Thank you, Ladies.” Cat said before leaving quickly. It was at times like that one that Cat thanked God for her radical mother. Cat entered her room frowning. Thoughts of her mother made her home sick. She wondered what her parents were doing... - - - - - Ext. Johanson House- Family room (Year: 2005) 8:00 pm Rupert Johanson sat in his favorite chair across from his wife, Catherine Tolliver Johanson. Both were quietly reading under their respective lamps when Rupert looked up from his book to look thoughtfully into the fire that blazed in the fireplace. “Cathy, should I...” “No, darling. She’s fine. She’s a big girl now.” Catherine answered her husband before he finished his question. She looked up and over the rim of her reading glasses. Green eyes turned and met brown. “If she needs us, she’ll call.” Rupert sighed, nodding at her logic. “ I know. I just had a feeling this afternoon that made it seem that something was wrong. It must have been nothing but fancifulness.” Rupert turned his attention back to his book as his wife looked at him, a particular look on her face... - - - - - Cat stood by the window as two men brought in a semi- full tub. Once they sat it down, two other men entered and poured two buckets each of hot water into the tub. Then all four bowed and left her. “Thank you.” She called as the door shut behind the servants. She shrugged and turned her attention to undressing. When she was down to the blasted chemise, Cat placed the towels, that Mary had brought to her before the tub arrived, near the tub with her nightgown, which she has accepted gracefully despite the dress fiasco. O’Hara refused to let ‘her’ maids to get her a man’s shirt, which would have been long enough to sleep in considering her height. Cat dipped two fingers into the water and nodded in satisfaction at the temperature. She stepped into tub and lowered her body into the water slowly while letting a blissful moan escape her lips. She reclined back with her eyes closed and arms propped on the sides. On the vanity, the candle flame flickered and danced, making the shadows leap and dance along. ‘Add music and rose petals and it would be the perfect scene for seduction,’ Cat thought wickedly as a naughty smiled passed over her lips. In the tub, Cat dozed, her mind blissfully empty until her naughty little she-devil decided to give her something to...fantasize about... Cat was in the tub relaxing as she languidly washed her body. The candle was casting faint light into the shadows, yet some shadows remained dark and still. In fact one shadow seemed to be darker than the others... There! The shadow moved just the slightest bit before detaching away from the corner. Cat gasped covering herself the best she could as none other than William Tavington stepped from the shadows and into the light. “How the hell did you get in here?” Cat demanded to know, her glare half hearted as she eyed him for the first time without uniform. The delicious man was only dressed in black pants and open shirt. Cat licked her lips as she eyed the bare flesh of his chest revealed by the wide openingof his shirt. “I do believe the cat is hungry.” He huskily whispered, smirking as the iciness of his eyes melted under the heat burning beneath. Cat swallowed thickly as the candlelight illuminated his eyes, making the blue pools of heat glow. Suddenly, Cat lowered her arms demurely as she stood up slowly, droplets of water rolling down and off her body. She lifted bright green eyes and watched William devour her with his eyes. “ I do believe the mutt is starving,” Cat purred softly. William growled and pounced... “Flippin' hell!That was hot.” Cat half shouted as she sat up in the lukewarm water. Panting, Cat glanced and squinted into the dark corners half hoping he was hiding in one of them. No such luck. Relaxing back into the water, Cat ducked under the water to rinse her hair before washing it with the nice smelling soap thoughtfully provided by Mary. After ducking into the water again to rinse out the soap, she began to wash her body face to toe. She rinsed off and stood before leaning over to grab a towel to wrap around herself. She stepped out of the tub and grabbed the other towel to dry her hair. She draped the towel around her neck before patting her body dry. She dumped the towels near the tub and slipped her nightgown on. She put a robe on before walking over to her table (the only table in the room really) and sat down in the chair. Cat scooted up and stared down at the parchment that sat innocently on the table near an inkpot and quill. After a few minutes of staring at the blank parchment, Cat picked up the quill and dipped the tip into the inkpot. With a sigh, she put quill to parchment, her mind troubled... Dear Mrs. Phelps,
You don’t know me, however, I know your son. We met under the saddest of circumstances of which I’m sure you have had now realized and dreaded for ten years. I’m full of remorse even as I write this, madame, for I despise myself for what I’m hesitating to tell you.
Mrs. Phelps, your son, Leighton, has regrettably passed on. I ask you to please keep reading for your son asked for me to tell you about his last moments for you see I was there with his head in my lap...Cat paused for what seemed to be the thousandth time to re-ink her quill. Cat, however, was glad of the pause for tears has suddenly obscured her view of the parchment. She pressed fingers against her closed eyes as she took deep even breathes, willing away the tears. When she felt that it was safe to continue the letter without the threat of tears ruining her penmanship, she removed her hand and resumed her letter... ...and my only regret was that it was my lap and not yours. Even if he was a grown man, I knew that he would have preferred your lap for I believe in every man there is a little mama’s boy. Alas it wasn’t possible for you to have been there and so my lap was the chosen substitute for your son’s head to rest.
However I’m ahead of myself. I know the question of ‘how’ is eating at you. I shall explain as much as I’m able. Your son was with twenty other soldiers and was taking three wagons of supplies to Fort Carolina, however, they were attacked by Continental Militia led by a man nicknamed ‘The Ghost’. When it was obvious that the convey with your son was missing, Lord General Cornwallis sent the Green Dragoons to find the convey. Now I bet your wondering who I am and how your son’s head found itself in my lap?
My name is Catriona Emmaline Johanson and I’m a nurse assigned to the Green Dragoons for their care. I went with them to find the convey as a precaution and as it turned out the precaution was needed. As we arrived, we found...Cat stopped, eyes shut as she remembered the road. Bodies everywhere, bloody and mangled. Opening her eyes, Cat hardened her resolve and went back to her writing... ... the soldiers on the ground and the wagons empty. I helped eleven with injuries before we found your son. As I knelt beside Leighton I knew that there was nothing anyone could do to save him and, madame, I never felt so helpless and worthless in my life. I made sure to make him think that he had a chance, but...he knew and he wasn’t frightened. I felt such awe. Madame, may I commend you on raising such a soldier, such a man. We spoke of me writing to you and then he asked for a request. It was a strange request, but one I was happy to fulfill.
Mrs. Phelps, your son asked me to sing to him. I’ve enclosed the song I sang on another parchment for you. The song, to me, seemed to give him comfort and peace. At one point he whispered ‘father’ and soon after that he passed on.
Mrs. Phelps, I knew your son for a short time, but even in the short time he has made an impact in my life and in my heart. He was an endearing man and I wish that I had met him sooner. He would have been a great friend I know that there really isn’t anything I could say to take the grief you’re feeling away , but maybe I can ease it. Leighton was unafraid of death. He was fearless as he listened to the song I sang to him. He admitted to waiting for death for years now. He wanted to join his comrades and, I believe, his father.
Mrs. Phelps, I hope this letter eases the pain and helps you grieve easier knowing that he was unafraid and not alone during his last moments. I close this letter with heartfelt condolences and I hope that, ..no I know that you are aware that Leighton is with you. He rests in your memories and your heart as well as in mine.
Sincerely,
Catriona E. JohansonCat sat the quill down with a shaky sigh and quickly sanded it before folding it up. Picking the quill up again, she wrote the address on the smooth front and sanded that as well. Tomorrow she would go to Cornwallis and ask for wax to seal it while she explained that she would mail it with or without his permission. Restless with pent up energy, Cat stood and briskly left her room with a candle in its holder in hand. With the help of candlelight, Cat made her way down the stairs without accident. Quiet as a mouse, she went to the back door and let herself into the garden. A gentle breeze blew ruffling her hair and nightclothes as the candle flickered a bit before settling again. Cat raised her face up, breathing in deeply as the night sounds penetrated her ears. Crickets were heard and an owl hooted from a distance. Cat began walking, her eyes on the moon. It was in its last quarter, making it half dark. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” With a small shriek, she turned and light from the candle illuminated a body deep in the shadows. The face was still hidden, but the voice, and yes, the body was immediately recognizable. “Colonel Tavington! What are you doingout here?” Cat demanded in a whisper with her free hand perched on her hip. In the back of her mind, she noted that this was very familiar. He chuckled, stepping into the light that the candle gave off. “There is no need to whisper or shout for that matter. No one can hear unless you shout.” Cat just gave a small huff, obviously waiting for the answer to her question. “I do believe I asked a question first and have yet to hear an answer.” Tavington drawled, eyes shadowed, yet glittering in the faint candlelight. Cat shivered, her dream coming back full force. “Cold, Miss Johanson? You should no better than to go out without proper clothing.” He chided, eyes sharp even in the darkness. A strong breeze blew around and between them, extinguishing the candle flame. Cat watched his dark figure as she grudgingly answered his question, “It is beautiful just as light is always beautiful.” He snorted as he turned and started to walk. Cat followed cautiouslyby his side, quietly waiting. “Darkness and light? Black and white? Good and evil?” He mused with a dry mocking tone. “Tell me, Miss Johanson, do you believe that the world is made up of only black and white?” “No.” She answered quietly. “A single person is not white or just black. Heaven knows, I’m not just ‘white’ Everyone has some of white, black and even have gray. It’s just that one ‘color’ seemed more paramount and visible to others.” Tavington glanced at her in approval and Cat secretly preened. “Very astute, Miss. Johanson...” “Cat! Please call me Cat. That ‘Miss. Johanson’ is annoying and nerve wracking. It reminds me of school.” Cat explained with a grimace. “School?” He asked sharply. ‘Yes! In my hometown girls were taught along with the boys by a single teacher. I think England should start.” Cat answered, warming up to the topic. The topic her mother has instilled into her daughter since birth. Tavington just made a noise in his throat as he turned his gaze forward again. “What? You don’t think that women and girls deserve to learn more than just writing and basic math? Maybe they want to learn about history and science instead of cross stitch and tea parties hosting. How to serve tea...You tip and pour for goodness sake.” Cat sneered Tavington laughed. Shortly, but he laughed. Cat looked at him mesmerized. He just raised an eyebrow at her. She looked away and thanked the darkness which hid her blush. “Despite popular belief, I believe females can learn beyond they subjects they are strictly assigned by society. It’s that fact and that some women are...too clever for the good of men in which put females in their...place.” Tavington answered. “So...you think we could take over if given the chance?” Cat asked teasingly. Tavington stopped walking and looked her seriously. “Yes, but as long as there are men capable of running the world, women shall be the inferior gender no matter how they wish it to be otherwise.” “My goodness, Colonel, you’re quite the scholar.” Cat teased, surprised at his answers. Tavington looked away and Cat could see his jaw become hard as granite in the moonlight. Cat kept silent, watching him as she waited...for what she didn’t know. Soon, however, her patience was rewarded. “In my childhood, I spent many hours reading everything that was in our library.” “Why did you stop?” Cat asked when he fell silent again. She flinched when he gave a harsh laugh full of bitterness. “Why?” He repeated in a mocking tone. Cat saw him turn to her fully. She felt the holes his eyes were trying to bore into her. “I stopped when all the books were sold to pay off one of my father’s many debts.” Cat cringed at the deep hatred and faint remorse in his usual chilling tone of voice. “You didn’t hide at least one?” Cat asked, thinking about what she would have done. “You, Miss. Johanson, are again very astute. I did hide one, but I think I’ll keep the title to myself.” Tavington’s voice was full of amused irony. “Do you read now?” She asked, curious about the man. A man she was strongly attracted to, yet knew nothing about except for maybe the nature he let her and everyone to see. “I do, but I rarely have the time. When I do, however, it’s to relax me enough so I can sleep.’ “Oh...Having trouble sleeping, Colonel?” Cat asked with a bit of spite. “And why are you out in the garden, Nurse?” He sneered the title. Cat shut her mouth with a snap as she walked away. He, damn him, followed. She knew that he was watching her. She felt his eyes on herbackas if they were hands. “How can you do it? Take innocent life so brutally?” Cat asked, her voice harsh as she stopped walking, her eyes focused on the ground. “Innocent? I dout any man or boy on the battlefield is..” “No..."Cat interrupted, turning on him, eyes angry and wild, “...On your raids. You kill families, burn their homes, and destroy their lives. Do you think that because your father destroyed your ‘easy’ life that you can destroy others?” “I don’t think I can. I know and I have.” He said harshly before lunging at her. Too late Cat realized as she tried to leap out of his range. They both went down with Cat pinned beneath him. Angry and terrified beyond words, Cat snarled and pushed against him. It was a fruitless attempt for he was heavier and stronger than her as he used his weight and his hands to pin her down. His hands gripped her arms and pinned them over her head before he gripped both wrists with one hand while the free one gripped her chin firmly. “Do not assume or pretend to know the reasons behind my actions. I will let you off lightly this time because I’m aware that your still distraught over this afternoon. In fact, I’ll take this opportunity to tell you the good news. The Lord General has granted you permission to ride with Dragoons permanently.” Cat’s glare faded as his words sank passed her anger. “If he did that then you would have had to give a good report.” Cat reasoned out loud, staring up at the shadowedface above her own. “Indeed.” There was silence between as they tried to read each other in the darkness. It was broken surprisingly by him. “It will get easier.” “Oh yes! Soon I’ll be like you! Unable to feel or is that unwilling to feel.” Cat spat, trying to hide her surprise and joy at his attempt to ‘comfort’ her. The hand holding her wrist tightened as he leaned his face closer to hers so that his breath caressed her lips. “I’m not saying you won’t feel. I’m saying the grief won’t be assharp. I wasn’t always ‘The Butcher’, you know. I had to grieve through, in my own way, the first death I’d seen. A friend, actually, from childhood.” Tavington’s voice, for once, wasn’t cool or mocking. It wasn’t even full of anger. Cat laid there, shocked. He sounded...sympathetic. He sounded...sorry. He sounded...human. Cat looked away from his shadowed face, ashamed. Of course he was human. A human would be angry at its father and hurt for what its father had done. A human would be angry at Cornwallis for his dressing Tavington was human despite common belief. Cat, original Cat, who thinks for herself, had let herself believe that he was an unfeeling monster because... she needed something...someone to lash out at and Tavingtonhad beenthe target because he had tried to tell her it would get ‘easier.’ He understood her, but she didn’t understand him and that made her angry. It was uneven ground between them and Cat hated it. It made her feel inferior and she hated to feel inferior. “I’m sorry for attacking you..” She glanced up at his snort of amusement, “..verbally.” She stressed, eyes narrowed as she fought not to laugh. “If you’re going to be like that, you can forget any apology, buster!” Cat told him. She would have folded her arms if they hadn’t been pinned above her head. To her astonishment, Colonel WilliamElliot‘The Butcher’ Tavington laughed. Not one of his short bark like ones. No, this one was a head thrown back belly laugh. Cat laid still beneath his laughing body and cursed the darkness. He looked hot as the cool Colonel, but a laughing Colonel? Oh my! Cat groaned inwardly as she listened to his laughter. It was deep and gruff as if rarely used...well...it probably wasn’t. “You should laugh more often.” Cat told him with a smile as he settled down. To her...chagrin, he seemed to press down into her body more as he looked back down at her with glowing eyes. “And you need to stay the angrybitch that you are.” He retorted in a laughing tone of voice. Cat gasped in outrage and tugged her wrists trying to break free. “ You..you.. There isn’t anything else to describe you!” Cat growled as he laughed down at her. “Oh my dear Cat..” He growled her name huskily as he leaned close to her ear. Cat shivered, eyes wide with desire. She loved the way he said her name. “Say it again.” She whispered demandingly into his own ear which was near her mouth. He chuckled and Cat’s eyes closed as hise chest rocked against her breasts. She gavea low moan as her nipples tightened in pleasure. “...I mean no...offense. On the contrary, it’s a compliment. You’re at your most beautiful when you’re angry. Especially when that anger is directed at me.” He growled, shifting his hips against hers. Cat’s eyes flew open as his evident arousal pressed against her center. “William.” She whispered huskily as she pressed back blindly with her senses focused solely on him.To her confusion and frustration. he suddenly stood and faded into the darkness of the garden. Cat sat up, anger building, as she opened her mouth only to snap it shut when giggles and murmurs reached her ears. Cat cursed and stood, yet kept low to the ground as she tried to pinpoint where the giggles and murmurs were. They were to her left. She’d have to go around to the right and cut across to get to the door. Dusting of her back and behind, she did just that. Going up the stairs, she was torn between anger, envy, and amusement. Anger at Tavington for leaving her, envy for the couple in the garden, who were, no doubt, doing what she had almost done with Tavington, and amusement for the whole situation. It would have been embarrassing and awkward if the couple had stumbled across her and Tavington. She also knew that if that had happened then it would have been all over the fort and would have put another notch against Tavington in Cornwallis’s book for seducing and bedding the Dragoon nurse. As Cat tumbled into bed, she snickered at her mind image of O’Hara’s face if Tavington had ‘bedded’ her in the garden. With a smile, she fell asleep easily, her mind free of death, dresses, and a party that was scheduled in just eight days...and so began the silent countdown to the ‘fireworks’...
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 16:24:29 GMT -5
Coming soon along with a two to three part of CHapter 11!
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scarecrow
Rank 3 (Almost Not a Newbie)
Posts: 408
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Post by scarecrow on Aug 7, 2006 17:18:42 GMT -5
Wow, you've really work hard on this story; it's one of the longest ones I've seen so far (though, to be honest, I've only been a member for a couple of days). I've only read the first chapter, but I promise to catch up with the rest of it.
I can't help thinking this is a Mary Sue story. lol. I really like it, and I love the way you're going. Cat seems like an engaging main character, and things are moving along at a brisk pace.
One qualm I did have was the way you're developing Cat's background. It seems a bit lazy compared to everything else, like it was a last minute addition. "Now that she was here she thanked God that she was a history fanatic and historical romance novel reader. It didn’t hurt that she loved The Patriot." "‘ Good thing I was studying to be an R.N. in the future,’ she thought ruefully." Perhaps you should have expanded a little on who Cat is, because they way it's worded makes everything seem a little too ... convenient. Especially how she suddenly ends up in the past with no practical explanation and seems to just accept it, with no worries about just how she's going to get back, or about being stuck in a war period where her life could easily be in danger.
But, like I said, I've only read the first chapter, and perhaps I've spoken too soon. For all I know, you've already addressed these issues in the other chapters. I do know that I'm extremely interested in your story and in Cat, and I will read more of it in the future.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 7, 2006 20:49:59 GMT -5
I agree with you. When I started the story..I was toying witht th eidea. Cat's background is explained a bit more later, but not much. However...my story will be pretty long. I've got about four months of the story to cover... like halloween and christmas to be true to history and not the movie... around January I shall return to the moive script. After chapter 11 it's all freewrite as I like to call it. Cat gets to expand a bit because we don't have the The Patriot script to align herself with. I also agree with Cat coming off as Mary Sue in the first chapter. I've been meaning to redue/rewrite it, but haven't got around to it. I might when I finch the story completely who knows? I also have another Patriot fanfic..only two chapters and a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory one. I'll post them soon hopefully. I'm glad you're interested. Seems everyone loves Cat...I can't really blame them or you...she's so loveable
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scarecrow
Rank 3 (Almost Not a Newbie)
Posts: 408
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Post by scarecrow on Aug 8, 2006 23:04:54 GMT -5
Now that I've read the second chapter, she's even more lovable. She's seems like a headstrong, confident young woman who'll let you know just what's on her mind. This makes her the idyllic main character of any story, one who will stand out among the throng. And she stands out even more because of the fact that she, coming from the future and all, dresses and speaks and acts in an unfamiliar way, a classic but effective conflict in itself.
I don't know much about the events of the Patriot, but from what I can tell it seems like you really know your subject. I think I should remind you that not everyone knows the movie like you do, or the events of the war (me not being American and all, I don't know much about your history), so it would maybe be nice to just subtly point out a few things, and not just take it for granted the readers will know what you're talking about. Like, I don't know if you've gone through this (me being thick-headed and all; my head hardly retains any information), but what is with the instinctive distrust of Tavington? Is it because she knows of some treachery he's going to perform in the near future? I'm gonna hafta read the first chapter again to make sure I haven't just lost myself.
Also, I'd like to see Cat use her knowledge of what's going to happen to her advantage, because what's the use of knowledge if you can't use it (that's what I always say). But, I'm only on the second chapter, so it's possible that I just haven't gotten to use her wiles yet. Count on me getting to your many other chapters in the near future.
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Post by callidascriptor on Aug 9, 2006 17:51:04 GMT -5
well, the distrust of Tavington at first is because Tavington is really an unwanted killing machine for the British. So Cat needs to watch herself at first so she won't be shot. In other Patriot fanfics, Tavington is either softer than mine or harsher. My idea for Tavington is that when it comes to war their nothing off bounds (at that time. Thank god for the Geneva Convention And just because of that attitude doesn't make him a rapist monster as others betray him. In the Patriot, Tavington is an Englishman who lost his inheritance thanks to his father, so now he's trying to gain back his reputation through victory and winning the war. 'To the victor goes the spoils' Abe Lincoln. And as for Cat and her knowledge. She will be using it in the later in the story. She has to be careful as to not change history. Some things she can change and others she can't. Oh and as for history. Well The Patriot is historical incorrect , but I'm trying to fix that. I'm lining up the historical dates with the movie therefore giving my main characters time to bond as it were.
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