"There's a good girl," Gillian whispered to the mare, feeding her a handful of barley. Gaia ate greedily from her hand, slobbering on her fingers.
"Very ladylike," the woman remarked, wiping the spittle on her skirts. She had just finished exercising the horse and was putting her away for the evening. The night was growing cold, and Gillian had fetched a blanket for Gaia.
The Warmblood nuzzled her, sticking her nose into her shoulder, closing her eyes as the woman rubbed her cheek.
"Out in the cold? Only whores would withstand this weather…"
Gillian turned to face Col. Tavington, standing some distance away, staring at her in disdain.
"Are you suggesting something, Sir?"
Tavington smirked but did not reply.
"I came to see Gaia. She's been lonely all day, haven't you girl," Gillian gestured to the mare, untangling a knot out of her mane.
"Suit yourself…"
With that, the colonel turned and left, sending Asmodeus to the camp stalls to stay out of the weather before he retreated to his tent. He had much on his mind. An entire company had been destroyed by a 'ghost', and his captive had gotten away. Or that was what he was told by a Scottish private who was injured by the anonymous killer. What troubled him most was that this person, this… enigma had managed to kill twenty of His Majesty's soldiers single handedly. William considered himself a skilled soldier, but for one man to kill that many men alone? The bloodlust and curiosity in Tavington's eyes rose. He had to find out who this man was. He had to destroy him.
"Thinking again, are we?"
William looked up to se a woman with a rich figure and flowing, dark brown hair standing in the doorway.
"Molly…"
The lady was well known in the camp, but she was perhaps his favorite follower. Strangely enough, it had been a while since he had last seen her.
"What is it now," she asked, sitting down beside him on the cot, arranging her dark skirts.
"There is a man. A 'ghost'. He killed twenty soldiers in a matter of minutes and escaped. A Scotsman survived but he's got to be stark mad. Ghost? Such riffraff. Well, I want to find out who he is and put an end to him."
"A ghost is entertaining your fancy? Now that is riffraff," Molly smirked.
"Not now, Molly."
"Well at least let me stay for the night. You could do with a warm bed. No coin."
"Convince me…" Tavington murmured, placing his hands on her hips.
The camp follower kissed him sweetly before she pulled away.
"You may stay."
"May I draw a bath first?"
Tavington sighed and replied, "If you must."
Molly took her time, heating the water to the desired temperature before filling a washbasin. Then, she stripped down and bathed while the colonel readied himself for bed. No sooner had she finished bathing then William motioned for her to come to bed with him.
"I am not ready," she spoke.
Col. Tavington gave her a stern look.
"Come," he spoke firmly.
Molly hesitated but slipped under the blankets with him.
"What do you want," she asked.
"Hush," William kissed the back of her neck softly, embracing her bare form. "I want a warm bed with you in it."
The woman relaxed and sighed as he trailed kisses across her shoulder.
"How I do like you when you are like this…" he whispered, tightening his hold on her as he bit her ear.
"Not tonight. Just rest," Molly spoke, turning to him before she buried her face in his chest. She could smell gun smoke, earth, horse, and the faint scent of death on him and inhaled deeply as the colonel threaded his hands in her hair. Within minutes, they were both asleep.
"Who is she," Gillian asked a preoccupied Tavington after seeing Molly leave his tent early the next morning.
"What is it to you," he snapped.
"I was only curious. She looks like a follower but carries herself like a lady…"
"Well, there's a contradiction, isn't there," William said in a mouthy voice. "You should be in the medics' tent."
"Yes… have you been feeding your horse his herbs?"
Tavington's expression softened just the slightest.
"I have. He has healed well."
"Good. Then I will be going…"
Gillian made her way to the medics' tent where a host of soldiers were waiting to be treated. Some had physical wounds, others were ill with deadly fever.
"Miss," a doctor approached her.
"Yes?"
"This one has been moaning with fever since this morning," the doctor gestured to a young soldier, no older than sixteen.
Gillian nodded and approached the soldier.
"Sir, can you drink something," she asked, grabbing a cold cloth and placed it on his forehead.
The soldier shivered and moaned but managed a nod.
"There we go…" Gillian said gently. She left him briefly and returned with some chamomile tea.
"Drink this, and then I shall help you wash."
The boy choked the tea down and after a struggle with bathing, was sedate enough to sleep.
As soon as Gillian was finished with the sickly corporal, she was called to help remove a man's leg that had been badly mangled by a bullet. He screamed piteously as blood squirted and poured from the wound, splattering on her dress.
"He is going to die," she murmured to the medic next to her. "The artery is severed."
The soldier howled, trying to grasp at his stump of a leg.
"Quiet, man!" the medic spoke, pushing him down.
"Please…" the soldier gasped. "A letter… t-to my wife."
Gillian frowned sympathetically.
"What is her name," she asked.
"K-Kezia… tell- tell her I love her."
"Sir, I need your name if I am to send a letter." Gillian encouraged softly.
"Asher… Asher Atwood…Please…"
The soldier's eyes fell distant and he stilled, the blood from his wound still warm. Gillian brushed a hand across his eyes, closing the lids and lightly kissed his forehead.
"May God be with you," she whispered.
As soon as she stood up, the doctor called for the soldier to be carried away and buried in a shallow grave. Gillian left and went to her own tent where she penned a short letter to Asher's wife, telling her that her husband had served the Crown well, had died valiantly, and that he loved her dearly.
Gillian's work wasn't over. She returned to the medic's tent and assisted with the wounded, sick and dying until nightfall. Covered in dirt and blood, and reeking of death, she quickly made her way to her tent where she drew a bath and scrubbed the blood off of her. Then she washed her dress, rubbing the cloth until her hands were raw. Time wasn't too late so she made her way out to see Gaia and found the mare sleeping lightly next to the gate. She whistled and the mare awoke, pricking her ears.
"Hello, you," Gillian smiled and opened the gate, pushing Gaia to the side. The mare whickered and pushed her nose into the woman's hand. Gillian petted the soft spot of her nose and let the mare nibble her fingers as she swished her tail in contentment. The woman mounted the horse bareback and led her around in circles around the enclosure, bringing her to a stop when she saw a woman approaching in the distance with a large grey horse.
Dismounting, she watched the woman and horse approach until she recognized her as the woman who left Col. Tavington's tent earlier that morning.
"Gulliver is being a sod in the stables and I needed a separate place to keep him for the evening. You can take my stall in the meantime." The woman explained.
"Is that an offer or a demand?" Gillian asked her. She knitted her brows, giving Gillian an even stare and replied, "It is what you make of it, Miss. I bid you no harm, though I suggest you take the offer."
"Gaia is comfortable here…"
"And she shall be comfortable in the stables."
"Then I need your name," Gillian pressed.
"I am a friend of the colonel; I believe that shall suffice." She replied edgily.
"Are you paid?"
"I make my way here, yes."
"Then a name, please," Gillian repeated.
"My last name is Pryce. That is enough," Replied the woman hotly. "Now, do we have an accord or not?"
"Very well; I will need to use one of your horse blankets if you have one. Mine is a tatty old thing."
Molly hardly stifled her annoyance, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"It is a large blue one; you shall find it in the stable."
Gillian gave the woman a sugary smile. "Thank you, Miss Pryce. We will be on our way."
Molly merely nodded and watched the woman and the mare leave before putting her own steed in the enclosure, shoving him hard and swatting him on the rump when he tried to push his way out.
"Who on earth does she think she is?!" Gillian spoke to Gaia as she led the mare into an empty stall at the stables. "She thought she could just walk all over me; a harlot! If she didn't have the colonel's favor, why I…"
She let the sentence go unfinished as Gaia whinnied for a carrot.
"I don't have any," Gillian frowned. "At least the bedding is fresh and warm. Miss Pryce was right; you will like it here."
The woman fetched the blue horse blanket and fastened it to the mare before leaving the stables.