Chapter Three: Important Questions

I finally did fall asleep on the lumpy cot that Col. Tavington had left me with. However, once I did sleep, my dreams were plagued by images of my brother. I dreamt of him being shot, of him as a child, of our times together. Then I dreamed of my mother and sisters being captured and enslaved, as I was.
I awoke to a strange voice calling into my tent. "Get up!" the voice barked.
I rose and was about to walk out of the tent, when it occurred to me that I was still wearing nothing but my night gown. I looked around the room for something to cover myself with.
"I've got nothing to wear!" I cried out to the soldier.
He said nothing, but threw a soiled, brown work dress and a wrinkled white apron and cap. They were obviously used as well, because the apron was sprinkled with blood. I held it out in disgust, feeling dirty just to touch it. But, knowing I had no other choice, I slipped out of my nightgown and pulled on the dress. I tied the dirty apron around my waist, and, after tying my hair up in a bun, placed the cap on top of my head.
"Come on!" said the soldier, harshly. "You've got five seconds and I'm coming in!"
I quickly lifted back the flap and hurried outside. "That won't be necessary, sir," I said, forcing myself to hold my head high.
The soldier who was waiting for me certainly did not look as intimidating as he sounded. He was a relatively small man, only about an inch taller than me, with blonde hair and dark brown eyes. His face was actually quite pleasant in appearance, but he made it quite clear to me, through his demeanor, that no matter his appearance, he was not going to be a nice man.
"You are Charlotte Peterson, correct?" he asked me.
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. You will be acting as a nurse for our wounded. I am Captain Williams. Colonel Tavington told me to let you know that he will be checking on you daily."
I simply nodded.
"You're going to be working in that tent over there," he said, gesturing towards a large tent across from my own. I had not even seen it the previous evening. "Go on, now!"
I hurried across the field, but halfway there I realized that my feet were still bare. I stared down at them. They were scratched and bloodied from running over sticks and stones. I ran back to my tent.
"What is it?" asked Captain Williams. "I told you to go over there!"
"Sir, I need something to wrap my feet with," I said.
He sighed and looked down, as though carefully considering my statement. However, it wasn't long before he turned on me, giving me an awful, angry look.
"You'll find something in the medical tent!" he yelled, shoving me. "Now go and do your work!"
I scurried back across the field to the medical tent. My plan had been to rip some material off the hem of my night gown and wrap my feet, but that obviously wasn't going to work.
I looked around the large tent. There were cots set up everywhere in neat, even rows. Every so often there was a table with medical supplies on it. I hurried to one of the tables and grabbed two long strips of white cloth. I wrapped my feet with them as quickly as I could, fearful that one of the soldiers would enter.
There seemed to be no other medical staff in the tent, so I assumed I was alone. There were no beds occupied. I stood in the tent, unsure of what to do. There were no battles or skirmishes going on near the camp, so there was no one for me to treat all day. I simply sat, thinking about what I was going to do about my situation.
Eventually, I resolved that it would be best for me to stay in the camp for a few days, until my feet healed, and it was assumed that I was going to make no attempt to escape. Then, while I was supposed to be working in the medical tent, I would slip out from behind and make my way into the woods. I could only hope that there would not be a lot of soldiers, wounded or otherwise, in the tent within the next two or three days.
Several long, uneventful hours passed with nothing for me to do. At one point a man came in with a deep splinter, which I removed, but other than that my day was quite dull.
Finally, when the sun was beginning to set, Captain Williams came into the tent for me.
"Colonel Tavington would like to see you," he said. "I will escort you to his tent."
I said nothing, but allowed the captain to lead me out of the medical tent and into another, somewhat larger than my own. I lifted back the flap and walked in. The tent was well lit with several lanterns. There was a fancy, carved wooden desk and chair and a cot, which certainly looked less lumpy than the one I had been forced to sleep on that morning.
The colonel was sitting at his desk writing something, but when I entered he stood and shoved the paper into a drawer in the desk.
"Captain," said the colonel, looking over my shoulder. "You are excused."
I looked behind me. Captain Williams was standing close behind me, but he nodded at the colonel's order and left us alone in the tent.
"Well, I trust you made yourself useful today?" asked Col. Tavington.
"Yes sir," I said sarcastically. "I removed a splinter."
He gave me a strange look and I could not tell whether he was annoyed by my sarcasm or not. Evidently, he was not, because he continued on.
"Very well, then. I said that I would be checking in on you, but it seemed simpler to have you come to me. I trust you have some questions?"
I was somewhat taken back by his sudden kindness, and I decided it would be best to be as polite as possible.
"Yes sir," I said. "I do have some questions."
"Go on," he said, nodding.
My mind raced with thoughts of what to ask first, and I finally settled on what seemed the most important question at the time.
"Do you know what has become of my mother and sisters?"
"Apparently, the escaped from us. Much to my disliking, of course, but I suppose you will do."
I breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that my mother and sisters were not in the hands of the British soldiers. Then my mind turned to my brother, John, and his horrible death the previous night.
"Did you kill my brother?" I asked him, my voice shaking.
He looked at me strangely. I was quickly discovering that when he wasn't angry, Colonel Tavington was a very difficult man to read.
"No, actually," he said. "Although I have been sent on missions to kill families of colonial soldiers before, this one in particular was strictly to capture you and your family. The men who shot the boy have been punished."
"How-" my voice caught as I tried not to cry in front of the colonel. I had to be strong. For my own good, I had to be strong. "How were they punished?" I finally finished.
"That is none of your concern," he answered. "Have you any more questions?"
"Yes!" I sputtered. "How long are you going to keep me here?"
"Until your brother Nathan gives himself up," answered Colonel Tavington, shrugging.
"My brother is a soldier!" I said. "Just as you are! Why are you doing this to him? Why not some other soldier?"
The colonel sighed. For a moment I thought that he might not answer my question, but he looked up and spoke again.
"Your brother left the colonial regulars and joined a particular strong group of militiamen. Capturing him is our way of learning his whereabouts."
I nodded. "And if he does not reveal himself?" I asked the question that had been weighing most heavily on my mind.
I gazed into the icy blue eyes of Colonel Tavington. He looked about thirty years old, and if I hadn't hated him so much I would have thought him quite handsome.
"If your brother does not reveal himself then you will most likely remain with us, working as you are now, though not necessarily in my own camp. I cannot allow you your freedom after you have seen our camps and had the opportunity to steal information."
"But I haven't!" I cried, feeling desperate.
"So you say," Colonel Tavington told me. "But, unfortunately for you, I have no way of proving such things."
I nodded, looking up into his eyes, which seemed to change from light to darker shades of blue in the flickering light of his lantern. For a moment his look seemed to soften as he gazed upon me, but it was only for a brief second.
"Very well then. I believe we have concluded our meeting for tonight. I will escort you back to your tent," he said. I couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be studying me as curiously as I was him.
We walked out of the his tent and down the path towards my own. He lifted back the flap.
"Get some sleep," he said. "Captain Williams or myself will be around in the morning."
"Sir," I said, suddenly feeling that my stomach was empty. "I've had nothing to eat."
"Haven't you?" he asked, thinking this over. "Very well, just a moment." He turned and left my tent.
I sat down on my cot, feelings of grief and hunger and exhaustion rushing over me. I felt ill. I lay down on the cot, closing my eyes briefly. Before I knew it, I was asleep.
When I awoke several hours later to my stomach's persistent growling, there was a tray with some bread and the last apples of the season on it.