FicWad

It is hardly surprising when a letter arrives addressed to Kian and Conan Callahan from their mother. Conan was expecting it. The previous summer, their father’s horse sired a colt meant for their younger brother Brian. Typically, enlisted men in infantry units are barred from keeping their own horses, but General Callahan knows the circumstances of his wife’s predicament, as does Colonel Callahan. The family’s barn is small and only has four stalls for horses. Nobody assumed that Conan would be a lieutenant yet, but nobody foresaw a refugee living with the Callahans either. When Conan went to war, his horse was left boarded with his mother’s mare and Devon’s stallion. Since then, the refugee staying at the Callahans’ cottage, who has taken to sleeping in the loft above the barn so as not to bother the family with the comings and goings of the job he has found guarding the docks at night, bought himself a gelding. Now, it is time for Brian to get a horse and learn to ride, so space must be made to board his horse, which means that Conan’s horse must find another home. Conan is quite excited to be receiving his horse just before his eighteenth birthday in April. Although few men take their pets to war with them, there is a provision to do so, and Kian, whose dog is staying with his mother, has taken the steps to have it be delivered to him in Crosspoint, as his mother has expressed grief about the difficulty of handling it.

In mid-March, Lieutenant Barrett’s transfer becomes official, and she forever trades the black uniforms of the Western Army for the green ones of the Southern Army. Major Fitzmaurice is thrilled to have her nearby, and she becomes fast friends with the two women in the unit, who are glad to have an officer to intervene on their behalf and to remind Kian Callahan that the women’s tent is not a brothel and that he cannot order them to perform sexual favors for him when he is intoxicated. Major Fitzmaurice’s subordinates are also glad to have Lieutenant Barrett in the unit because she has the effect of making him gentler and more patient. Colonel Callahan is glad to have her in his unit because she is competent with weapons and is a more patient teacher than most of his male officers. Conan, Liam, Captain Boland, and Lieutenant Hackett are all glad to have her in the unit because of her cooking, and Doctor Sparrow is glad to have her there because she makes Major Fitzmaurice less reckless and because she has small but strong hands and a strong stomach, making her a wonderful assistant in surgery.

Nearby, Doctor Hayes is still recovering from his hand injury. He is unable to fire his gun and unable to operate, so his unit is missing both a lieutenant in the field and its only doctor, making it medically under-served. The other doctors nearby do the best they can to tend to his unit’s wounded as well as their own, but it is still unclear if he will regain full function, and the casualties are mounting. Doctor Hayes is growing despondent at his own uselessness, and Doctor Sparrow, who has seen firsthand the results of what happens after that, is worried about him. Two weeks ago, he personally stitched the last detached tendons in Doctor Hayes’ hand in place a second time after devising a metal contraption to allow his bones to heal properly and binding thin strips of metal to them, so today, he goes to inspect his handiwork, two weeks after he removed the contraption and the metal splints.

Doctor Sparrow locates Doctor Hayes in the surgical tent at the light artillery unit where he serves, which is their agreed-upon meeting place. Doctor Sparrow cracks the plaster bandage and unwraps the gauze on his friend’s hand. Despite using his neatest stitching, there is a visible scar, but the tissue looks healthy. The wound is closed, so Doctor Sparrow removes the stitches. Doctor Hayes, a keen observer of medical practices, declines local anesthesia and alcohol for the procedure. He would rather experience what such things feel like for the men who must endure them when the supplies run low. Once the stitches are removed, he flexes his fingers, as his palm is still sore, but he is delighted that he is able to control his fingers and that they move accurately, albeit somewhat stiffly from prolonged disuse. Doctor Sparrow warns him not to perform surgery and to focus on simpler tasks like writing his name for a few more weeks. Doctor Hayes thanks Doctor Sparrow elatedly, amazed that he still has a fully functional right hand He was convinced that it would either be amputated, swing uselessly by his side for the rest of his life, or not recover fully, any of which would force him to find another profession. It has been just over two months since he was shot, and he finally has hope for a return to his normal life.

Later in the day, Doctor Hayes visits the Thirteenth Bridgeton. He has a gift for Doctor Sparrow to show his gratitude. Doctor Sparrow is busy treating a minor injury sustained by a young man who incurred Major Fitzmaurice’s wrath for dropping one of the Major’s pistols in weapons training. Major Fitzmaurice ordered him to climb the nearest tree and hang onto a branch with his feet a foot or two off of the ground for half an hour. Major Fitzmaurice expected him to have sore arms, but he did not expect the man to silently hold the branch after the force of gravity and his adjustments in his attempt to hold onto it ripped the skin off of his palms. Major Fitzmaurice gave the man a brief reprimand for suffering in silence and a rare apology that the punishment was more severe than he intended and personally brought him to Doctor Sparrow to be bandaged with a very rare full explanation.

Upon arriving in the camp, Doctor Hayes first encounters Lieutenant Barrett, whom he has never met. He salutes and asks, “Hello, Lieutenant, ma’am, what is your name?”

“Barrett. Emily Barrett.”

“Anglo-Irish, are ye?”

“I am.”

“As am I. I’m-”

“Lieutenant Hayes.”

“How’d ye-”

“The scars on your hands. I know Doctor Sparrow, and he mentioned it a while back.”

“Did he now?”

“He did. I see ye’ve not lost it.”

“Thanks to Brendan. He’s a wonderful surgeon, truly. I’m here to see him. Is he about?”

“He’s with a patient.”

“I’ll wait here ‘til he’s finished, then. I wouldn’t want to disturb him. So, how’d ye come to be in the Thirteenth Bridgeton. There aren’t many women in the Southern Army. I’ve a few in me own unit, but we’re a unit o’ bowmen. Where in South Side are ye from?”

“I transferred from the Western Army by the colonel’s request. I’m not from District Thirteen, though. Me ma’ an’ da’ an’ granda’ was, but da’ an’ granda’ made their money together ‘afore the Revolution, got a title, an’ turned on the king. Me da’ was-”

“Emmett Barrett. I take it ye take after him an’ look like your ma’.”

“Aye, but I’ve his eyes an’ hair. Hers were blue an’ blonde an’ curly.”

“Ye’re the last o’ your cousins alive, then, aye?”

“I am.”

“’Tis a shame. Ye’re a beautiful lady, but I suppose money an’ charm don’t guarantee happiness.”

“Nothing guarantees happiness. I merely wish that me father were still alive. He was as fine a man as e’er ye’d see. His grant helped to build Bridgeton Military Academy, so I truly wish he could’ve met Billy an’ seen his grant do some good.”

“I’m sure ye’ve heard it plenty in this unit, but your da’s a hero to many were we’re from, so ‘tis an honor to meet ye. I’ve got to ask: what was Emmett Barrett like?”

“He was…interesting. He’d a huge library, hundreds o’ books. He always wanted to learn somethin’. I’d two brothers, Edward an’ Emmanuel. Da’ schooled us, an’ he schooled the stable boys an’ the scullery maids alongside us. I was always his little princess, especially after ma’ died, then little Edward. Da’ an Emmanuel died together, an’ I’m what’s left, but da’ always taught us to care for our own an’ to give what we could. He raised me as one o’ the boys, even bought me me first drink. Me an’ Emmanuel was jus’ gone sixteen. Edward’d died the week ‘afore. He was fourteen. Ma’ was long since dead, an’ six weeks later, I was alone, alone wi’ a fortune to last me an eternity. Me da’ was the kind o’ man wanted his own to rise wi’ him. He was lonely in high company, so he wanted men from South Side Bridgeton to make it an’ join him. Had he lived longer, I believe he would’ve succeeded in makin’ a ‘new elite’ as he called it.”

“I take it ye talk like him too.”

“Aye, well, he taught me everythin’ I know. Ma’ died after bringin’ Edward into this world, so I sure don’t talk like her. He never married after her death.”

“Your ma’ was some highborn fine thing, aye?”

“That was his first wife. She died in the Revolution. She was hanged publically by the king’s men for bein’ a ‘class traitor,’ as they called her, an’ for ‘lyin’ in bed alongside a dangerous traitor.’ Da’ said he on’y married her for looks an’ ‘cause it’d make the family name a little more legitimate and respectable. Ma’ was his childhood sweetheart. She was married seven times ‘afore him, all killed fightin’ in the Revolution. I but wish I were half as pretty as she was.”

“I’m sure ye are.”

“I’m not. She’d long, curly, golden hair, an’ a dainty way about her, an’ she was graceful. Instead, I got dad’s dark hair an’ walk like…well…”

“A soldier?”

“Aye.”

“If ye walked around like a lady out here, ye’d be buried in men who ain’t had any in months, or mud, or enemy bullets. Ye’re jus’ fine. Fitzmaurice is lucky to have ye.”

“What d’ye know ‘bout him? Nobody ‘round here’ll tell me anythin’.”

“What do I know ‘bout Fitzmaurice? Not much, to be honest. I’m closer to Brendan Sparrow. All I know ‘bout Fitzmaurice is hearsay from Brendan or what Fitzmaurice has said when he was drunk, which isn’t much unless he’s talkin’ in his sleep again. I probably can’t tell ye nothin’ ye don’t already know, but, sure, I’ll give it a go. Let’s see, now… His birthday’s the tenth o’ July, same day as the nation, the Senate, the Army proper, an’ Doctor Sparrow. Same day but not year the Revolution broke out. He went to Bridgeton University then Bridgeton Military Academy as a favor to Brendan’s father from Jack Shepherd. He was more or less adopted by the Sparrows, who did most o’ his raisin’ an’ were more his family than his blood was. His unluckiness is on’y matched by your famous family curse. He was tortured an’ killed back in twenty-six an’ illegally resurrected thanks to Doctor Sparrow.”

“That I didn’t know.”

“Really? Well, I suppose he might not want to bother ye with all that. The reason he’s so fond o’ Conan Callahan’s that he was captured the night o’ Conan’s first watch an’ tryin’ to help the boy, no less.”

“Jaysus…I never knew. He never told me.”

“Brendan Sparrow told me. He was afraid he’d lose his license for medicine an’ go to jail ‘cause o’ that. Everyone knew ‘twasn’t legal. Even Jack found out. Nobody cared. ‘Tis more to stop dangerous mistakes an’ repeated torture than anythin’. They played the ghost for the whole camp after. They’ve always been morbid pranksters like that.”

“How so?”

“Brendan once dressed a cadaver an’ put it in a seat in our anesthetics lecture. Professor Billings didn’t notice ‘til it didn’t leave after. He should’ve known. ‘Twas a lady, an’ our year was all men. He put it in boys’ clothes he…borrowed…from this big, dumb bastard down the hall. A few years earlier, when we was but nineteen an’ we’d jus’ barely met, Brendan borrowed a hearse, that time legitimately, an’ drove it ‘round West Side Bridgeton for half the day wi’ William Fitzmaurice, Abraham Kiersey, Kevin Lawless, Sean Considine, an’ meself. Brendan an’ Billy drove. The rest drank. We wanted to see who’d be dead drunk first. ‘Twas Lawless o’ course, but he’s half me size, so he was at a disadvantage. We hung him by his waist from a bridge an’ brought the hearse back in shambles. ‘Twas great fun.”

“That was yourselves?”

“Aye, the lot.”

“I remember that. Me father’d passed, but I kept his butler on after he’d died. Jeremiah Bones, the butler, mentioned he wished there were more such incidents to lighten up the West Side.”

“Well, that explains how your man Fitzmaurice managed to avoid the Court Martial he was sure he had comin’ for breakin’ the honor code. Oul’ Bones was always comin’ ‘round to the Academy to see after your father’s collections there, an’ he was well-respected. I felt bad for Fitzmaurice, though. What they did in the military academy was far worse than the medical school. Sure, we’d get ridiculed in the medical school for missin’ an answer we should’ve known, but in the military academy - och! He faced far worse an’ for every little thing from a missed answer to fallin’ asleep on watch, fights, stealin’ food, an’ even a serious breach o’ the honor code. Only the number o’ lashes changed wi’ the crime. I’d choose public ridicule o’er public floggin’ any day.”

“Did he-”

“E’er get hit? Aye.”

“Often?”

“No. He either wasn’t so bad or was good at not gettin’ caught by his superiors. I’m certain ‘twas the latter. I don’t think they e’er found out ‘bout the women he snuck into his barracks or the times he’d leave either to meet the ladies, come visit the medical school, or find good whiskey.”

“Is he-”

“Unfaithful? Christ no! Ne’er! Unlucky? Aye. Ye’re the longest he’s e’er kept a woman, though. When I say he’s lucky to have ye, I really mean it. ‘S got nothin’ to do wi’ a poor boy an’ a girl wi’ money.”

“Gossipin’ ‘bout us, are ye, then?” asks Doctor Sparrow.

“Whilin’ away the time,” replies Doctor Hayes with mock innocence.

“Sorry for the wait. I’ve got me hands full an’ tied with the messes this one causes,” Doctor Sparrow says, pointing to Major Fitzmaurice. “I’d rather run interference ‘twixt the major an’ the lieutenant here an’ keep him lucky than stitch up their own clumsiness, but what’s worst is the lot o’ fresh meat what either angers him, attacks her, or tries to impress him. Aye, he’s good at pickin’ ‘em, but they’ll act the fool to stand out thinkin’ they’re tough, or smart, or brave, an’ I get to clean up the blood. I doubt there’s any worth pickin’ this time ‘round.”

“But we’re doctors, Brendan Sparrow. We’ve got to help ‘em,” says Doctor Hayes.

“Even if they don’t help themselves,” the doctors say in unison, quoting one of their professors.

“I wish there was somethin’ in the oath ‘bout savin’ the stupid not bein’ me job, but there ain’t, so’s I got to save ‘em while I could be curin’ the sick or healin’ real combat injuries,” laments Doctor Sparrow.

“Don’t worry yourself,” says Doctor Hayes. “I doubt that lot’ll See combat, Brendan. They’ll ne’er survive trainin’.”

“They’re pretty thick, aren’t they, now?”

“Aye, they are.”

“So what brings ye here when ye ought to be restin’ up while ye still can?”

“Me wife wanted to thank ye. If ye’d not put half a blacksmith’s shop in me hand, I’d ne’er’ve used it again. Ye saved me livelihood, so me wife, she made ye a little somethin’.”

“I couldn’t possibly, Tom.”

“Take it. I know your unit don’t always get food.”

“Be sure to thank Elizabeth for me.”

“I will.”

“I’ll bring the tins an’ basket ‘round by your unit tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. If I’m not there, leave ‘em in me tent. I’m headed back to town for the night. Enjoy.”

“If ye’re lookin’ for permission to do what ye wish to your wife, your hand’s plenty up to it.”

“I figured, but I wasn’t about to ask, much less in front o’ the lady.”

“That…lady…happens to be the one who…tames…William Fitzmaurice an’ she does a right better job than the twins back in twenty-one. Plus, that lady is in this unit, so d’ye really think there’s anythin’ she ain’t heard yet?”

“No. I see your point. Well, I’m off. Enjoy.”

“I will. An’ yourself as well.” As soon as Doctor Hayes is out of earshot, Doctor Sparrow says, “Right, get Kian, Conan, an’ Liam. We’ll be after havin’ a feast tonight.”

“I thought he brought ye dinner,” says Emily, clearly confused.

Major Fitzmaurice leaves to find the others, and Doctor Sparrow explains, “Elizabeth Hayes is an amazing cook. She knows Billy an’ me is nigh inseparable, so she always sends dinner for two…on’y her opinion o’ dinner for two actually feeds six very hungry soldiers quite well, an’ her desserts feed about a dozen. The last time Owen Callahan lost a bet to us, he wasn’t no colonel. He an’ Billy was both lieutenants. Ne’er ye mind how much the bet was for, but let it suffice to say ‘twas a month to me weddin’ day an’ I jus’ out o’ medical school, Billy from the military academy. We bet Owen Callahan, who was a married man wi’ a son an’ oughtn’t’ve been doin’ what we was doin’ at the time, that even he couldn’t finish jus’ one o’ Lizzy Hayes’ dinners. An’ he didn’t, even after a three-day fast. So we’ll have plenty to go ‘round. Those tins is packed full. Lift the basket if ye don’t believe me. It probably weighs more’n ye do. When I say the woman cooks enough to feed an army, I ain’t jokin’.”

“So why Kian, Conan, an’ Liam?”

“Conan’s enlisted, an’ the unit ain’t got a proper dinner in three weeks. He don’t hunt, an’ he can’t afford to go to town every night, so he needs it most. Liam ‘cause, well, have ye seen the state o’ him? He’s a fair bit closer to starvin’ than the rest o’ the poor sods ‘round here. An’ Kian ‘cause he’s ne’er had Elizabeth’s cookin’, an’ he’ll like it. Coffey, Morrison, Kilane, Gaffney, Boland, an’ Hackett are bound for town for a few hours for dinner an’ a few supplies what ain’t rationed, not to mention what Fitzmaurice sent ‘em for, so they’ll have dessert when they get back.”

“An’ she meant this for two?”

“Aye, she did. She’s gone wi’ him everywhere. She followed him ‘round the country. When I met him, he was maybe Captain Boland’s size. Maybe. We’ve been friends a good many years, an’ we met up whene’er he stopped in Bridgeton. This is the thinnest he’s been since he got that degree. Now ye know why.”

“So what else don’t I know ‘bout the men ‘round here?”

“Well, Lieutenant Gaffney’s left-handed when he writes or eats. I found out when we literally bumped elbows at dinner one night, but he uses a gun or a sword right-handed like the rest ‘cause that’s how they taught him in boot camp. Your turn.”

“Sergeant Tracey secretly wants to marry Kian Callahan.”

“Ye’re lyin’.”

“I’m not.”

“Shy little Sergeant Treacey?” asks Doctor Sparrow.

“Aye.”

“The one who follows yourself an’ Sergeant Lydon like a lamb?”

“Aye.”

“Quiet Molly Tracey who runs from men an’ won’t let me, a doctor, come near her when she’s hurt?”

“Aye, the very same.”

“An’ she’s after Kian Callahan?”

“Aye.”

“The same Kian Callahan who’s loud an’ a drunk, an’ practically lives in the brothels in town?”

“Aye, the very same.”

“The one who’s comin’ to dinner?”

“Aye, that Kian Callahan, as if there were another. I know it sounds crazy,” says Lieutenant Barrett.

“I don’t believe it! Still, ‘tis wonderful news. Wait ‘til the General’s wife hears ‘bout this. She’ll be ecstatic. She’s been after him to settle down an’ marry since he was nineteen.”

“How old is he?”

“Nearly twenty-three, I think.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Conan’s almost eighteen.”

“An’, soon enough, we’ll have Devon. I dread that day.”

“Why?”

“He’s reckless an’ competitive, an’ he won’t outgrow it before he gets here.”

“Perhaps the war’ll be over by then,” says Lieutenant Barrett hopefully.

“Doubtful. ‘Twill be the same violent stalemate,” says Doctor Sparrow cynically.

“Ye’re probably right.”

“I still find it hard to believe.” Doctor Sparrow mutters, “Sergeant Tracey…who would’ve thought.”

“Do me a favor,” says Lieutenant Barrett. “Don’t obsess. I ain’t supposed to know.”

“It’d do her some good. She’s not much younger’n he is. I’ve seen her file.”

“She’s a virgin, an’ he’ll break her heart.”

“He’s a better man than he’s given credit for, once ye know him. Ye’ll see.”

After dinner, there are plenty of extras for Captains Boland and Morrison and Lieutenants Coffey, Hackett, Killane, and Gaffney, much to the amazement of Lieutenant Barrett, who cannot believe that a meal meant for two could somehow feed a dozen people. Doctor Sparrow has not forgotten about Sergeant Tracey, so he leaves hints through and after dinner. Kian, who has been drinking, misses all of them, much to the relief of Lieutenant Barrett. Despite the small celebration, the party disperses quickly. Captain Boland wishes to reply to a letter from his wife. Meanwhile, Captain Morrison, who does not have much tolerance for alcohol, is bound for his tent to sleep away the effects of a gill of whiskey. Doctor Sparrow must clean Doctor Hayes’ tins. Liam is headed to town to visit Jack, who has Liam’s new horse with him, having brought it back to Crosspoint with him from Highton after a recent Senate meeting along with a message from Liam’s wife. Lieutenant Coffey needs to wash his shirts, and it is a fairly warm evening for mid-March. Kian and Conan plan to spend the evening with their father and older brothers. Major Fitzmaurice and Lieutenant Barrett have no plans, but Lieutenant Barrett follows him into the majors’ tent because she knows that it will be empty.

Major Fitzmaurice hears a rustling behind his trunk. Lieutenant Barrett jumps onto Major Fitzmaurice’s bed because she is afraid of being bitten by a rat, since there is no broom in the majors’ tent like there is in hers. Major Fitzmaurice moves his trunk and crawls under his bunk to see if he can catch it, laughing to himself because of Lieutenant Barrett’s well-to-do upbringing. When he moves his trunk, he finds a young gray tomcat with a rat in its mouth. He picks it up, and it drops the mouse proudly on the bed next to him. Major Fitzmaurice hands the kitten to Lieutenant Barrett while he disposes of the dead rat. When he returns, the kitten is sprawled on its back on his bunk. When he sits next to Lieutenant Barrett, the cat settles between them.

“We should keep him,” says Emily.

“We can’t. He belongs to one o’ the local farmers.”

“How d’ye know?”

“Ye seen any other cats ‘round here lately.”

“But who’d know?”

“Ye didn’t seriously jus’ say that,” says Major Fitzmaurice in disbelief.

“I did.”

“This unit’s corrupted ye.”

“Has not. What I meant was who’d know which farmer?”

“I’d bet on whoever’s closest, an’ that’d be an apple farmer by the name o’ John Mackey. If it ain’t his, he’ll know whose ‘tis.”

Emily cradles the cat in her arms wrapped in a regulation wool blanket as if it were her own child, and they go in search of Mackey’s orchard, the little animal purring and nuzzling her breasts all the while. When they arrive, a rather plump, friendly woman answers the door. She leads them behind the house to her husband, who is splitting wood to repair a fence that fell during the winter.

“Here to gawp?” asks the farmer. “Here to call me a traitor for marryin’ one o’ them, are ye?”

“No, sor,” replies Major Fitzmaurice.

“Name, rank, unit, an’ business, in that order.”

“William Fitzmaurice, sor. A major. This is Lieutenant Emily Barrett. We’re from the Thirteenth Bridgeton, an’ we’re here about a cat.”

“Me Shadow ain’t done it, whatever it is,” he says, taking a cloth off of the top of a clay mug and sipping from it. “She’s a real doll.”

“We found a young tom. We wanted to know if ye’d had kittens here recently or if one o’ the farmers nearby had.”

“We did, matter o’ fact, ‘round ‘bout six months ago.”

Emily opens the blanket slightly and asks, “Was he one o’ yours?”

“He was. Couldn’t find a home for that one nor his brother. Neighbor said to drown ‘em, but I couldn’t do it, an’ me wife’s real attached to ‘em, like. That one’s too light for a tom his size an’ too nice, an’ his brother’s plenty big enough but too shy. People out here don’t want a pet for their daughter. They want a good mouser.”

“A fine mouser he is, too, an’ our unit needs one,” says Major Fitzmaurice, thinking of Lieutenant Barrett’s reaction to rodents.

“Ye seem like fine people. He’s yours. I on’y ask ye to see if his brother likes ye an’ take him if he does. Aye?”

“Not a problem.” The farmer’s wife brings out a gray short-haired tabby, who immediately runs to Major Fitzmaurice and paws his leg. “I suppose he’s mine, then?”

“Aye, mind ye take good care o’ him, now.”

“So, what d’ye call ‘em anyway?” asks Lieutenant Barrett.

“Luke, an’ the shorthair’s John. After our leaders, our martyrs, from Crosspoint in the Revolution. Wouldn’t expect the lot o’ ye from Bridgeton to understand. Your leaders lived…well…most did anyway…”

“Well, we’d best be leavin’. Busy day tomorrow,” says Major Fitzmaurice.

Several weeks later, in late April, when Kian’s dog and Conan’s horse arrive in Crosspoint on the train, Liam goes on leave to Highton because Jack has ordered him to visit with his wife while he does the same. With Jack gone for two weeks, General Callahan has a lot more work to do, so he cannot spend as much time with his sons as he would like. This means that Owen will have to train Brendan to help him manage the unit because he is still not entirely well, and his father cannot help him, but for the two younger Callahan boys in the unit, their father’s absence is a Godsend.

Kian has not seen his dog since the day the war began, when he arrived at Jack’s wedding to inform him of the events unfolding in Crosspoint. He got to visit with his dog for one day before he had to return to Crosspoint, where he had been stationed for six months before that. Despite the years spent apart, the large red and white mastiff and wolfhound mutt greets his owner warmly when he is let out of his box at the train station. He jumps up and puts his enormous paws on his master’s shoulders, licking Kian’s face and barking excitedly. Because they are in the city, a policeman at the station informs Kian that once his greeting is over, he must put a leash or rope on his dog for the sake of public safety. Eventually, the dog calms down enough that Kian can tie a leather leash to his studded collar. The excitable animal obediently sits at his master’s side, panting loudly and wagging and thumping his docked tail.

Conan is eager to ride his horse. His mother sent him a large box with his saddle and reins inside, which he receives first. His horse, which was sired by his father’s stallion, is a large bay stallion called Stitches. Despite his large size, willingness to ride into loud and dangerous situations, and bulging muscles, the horse is remarkably calm and even-tempered. Once the last of the train passengers not waiting for livestock leave the platform, the cars of cattle, sheep, and horses bound for Crosspoint’s market are unloaded. Eventually, a man on the platform shouts for Conan to claim his horse. Conan runs down the platform, and a boy of fourteen hands him the reins of his gentle giant. Stitches nuzzles Conan, gently at first, and then hard enough to knock Conan off of his feet. He leads him with a rope to where Kian is standing with his dog and Conan's reins and bridle. The horse waits patiently while his saddle is placed, buckled, and adjusted and his normal reins are attached, and he meekly follows Kian and Conan out of the station, where Kian retrieves his own horse from the post in front of the building where he tied it.

Because of the law requiring dogs to be leashed in the city, the horses are also paraded through the streets without their familiar riders, but as soon as they walk outside the city gates, Kian removes his dog’s leash, and the two men mount their horses. Without saying a word, they begin to race at top speed back to their camp, with Kian’s enormous mutt bounding to keep pace with the stallions. When they arrive, they ride straight into the camp, as it is quite unusual to see an enlisted man with a horse. Owen greets them, his arms crossed. After quickly berating his brothers for kicking up dust in the middle of camp while men are finishing their dinners and disturbing men who might be sleeping, or at least attempting to do so, despite the level of noise, he inspects Conan’s horse, which he will only be able to ride when he is not on duty as long as he remains a sergeant. When he becomes an officer, he will be allowed to ride it into battle if he chooses, as per the army’s regulations on light infantry units. Upon deciding that the horse is a fine animal, he tells his brother to either take it out of camp or put it in the stables for the night. Unsurprisingly, Conan chooses the former, opting to take a ride through the woods and meadows outside the city, regardless of the fact that he has yet to eat dinner.

Kian, who has also missed dinner, takes some bread for Conan, knowing that his younger brother will not be back before the food is gone, and sits down to a dinner of bread, gravy, and ale. He ties his dog to a post outside of his tent, as his brother warned him not to let it roam out of his sight and not to bring it into the mess during dinner. Kian, who is wishing that the train had arrived on-time and that it had not taken so long to unload Conan’s horse, as the meat from dinner is gone.

While Kian is tearing into his meager supper of hard bread, Major Fitzmaurice returns from an evening in town with the doctors and Emily. Once he puts his horse in its stall, he parts from them to see his cats. He met the others in town after attending to some errands of his own, and he returns to camp with a kitten who is barely weaned. It is a male long-haired black tabby, and he is hoping that his older cats will learn to accept it as their own, as he could not have left it in the alley where he found it, wet, cold, starving, and about to fall prey to a group of local youths who are currently located in the local jail for attempted assault and robbery, all of whom were trying to step on the poor animal in order to kill it, in good conscience. After asking the tobacconist, behind whose shop he found it, he sought a young girl, who told him that her mother would not allow her to keep the kitten, whose mother was a stray, but that she had named him Mark, and so it came to pass that Major Fitzmaurice finds himself in possession of a third kitten named Mark, who spent the evening being handed between him and Emily in the pub.

In order to return to his tent, Major Fitzmaurice must pass Kian Callahan’s tent. Unaware that Kian’s dog arrived from Bridgeton earlier in the evening, Major Fitzmaurice strolls casually past the tent, blissfully aware of any change, the kitten sitting in his pocket. Suddenly, and much to the unfortunate Major’s shock, a very large dog, which he at first mistakes for a bear due to its size, jumps out of the shadows and begins barking loudly. Major Fitzmaurice, who has never liked dogs, especially large dogs, especially after one bit him as a child, begins to curse, desperate to get his tiny kitten to safety. Upon hearing the barking, Kian, who knows that his is the only dog in camp, leaps up from his dinner, ale in hand, still chewing the last of his bread and gravy, and runs across camp, hoping that his dog, who is known for being difficult for anyone other than him to handle, has not slipped his leash or done any harm on his first night as a member of the unit.

“Heel! Heel!” shouts Kian, after choking down the last of his dinner.

“What kind of wild animal did ye bring here!?” reprimands Major Fitzmaurice, visibly shaken.

“He’s a good dog, really, once ye get to know him. He’s just big. See, he wants to play wi’ ye’s all.”

“Can’t ye teach him some manners?”

“He’s trained. He won’t bite. I swear.”

“Then why’s he growlin’?”

“Is...is that a cat in your pocket?” asks Kian.

“What? Oh, aye, ‘tis.”

“Another one?”

“Aye. I hate children, the little bastards.”

“Well, if ye can show me who tried to hurt him, I can sic my dog on ‘em.”

“Won’t be necessary. I’m sure the well-respected enlisted men arrested in the bars in town are teachin’ ‘em a thing or two ‘bout what happens when ye go off an’ try to steal from an’ assault an officer in the Southern Army.”

“Any o’ our boys there?”

“One or two in for drunk an’ disorderly conduct. I asked ‘em to teach the little rats a lesson an’ me real reasons an’ said I’d put a good word in wi’ the colonel to have ‘em let out, so I’d assume that by now, they’ve pretty well introduced the little to the concept of what, exactly, happens when someone over twice your size decides to stomp on your head or ribs for fun. I told ‘em not to kill the little maggots, though. We don’t need that scandal. They’ll need a doctor after this, though.”

“Spoiled little country bastards,” says Kian, shocked that Major Fitzmaurice would even dare to order such a thing, as it sounds like the type of thing Owen or his father would order instead. “If anyone from Bridgeton tried that, he’d have his arse handed to him by his da’, even if ‘twas the on’y thing his da’ ever did in raisin’ him, or if not by his da’, then by the nearest publican or grocer.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause Bridgeton loves its cats. They kill the rats, an’ don’t ask much in return,” says Major Fitzmaurice, gently stroking the tiny kitten, who has retreated to the bottom of his pocket.

“Put it in your tent an’ come back. Really, he’s a nice dog once he’s had his sniff.”

“Thankee, but no. To be honest, I’m terrified of dogs, especially big ones, an’ that is, by far, the biggest dog I’ve ever seen.”

“We’ll never suffer a night raid again! He’ll let us know, an’ he’ll see that as an attack an’ chase ‘em if I tell him to. He won’t go after ours, though. He’s trained well enough. He ain’t stupid. Please, give him a chance, Major.”

“Alright, alright.” Major Fitzmaurice walks down the path, past several tents in a long row, until he reaches the majors’ shared tent. He puts his new kitten on the bed next to the others, who do not wake, and he returns to Kian. “I did tell ye, I really don't like dogs, aye?”

“Ye’ve got to come closer than that. He’s got to sniff ye.”

“How big is he, exactly?”

“At least two hundred pounds, if not bigger,” replies Kian proudly.

“Where on earth did ye get a dog so massive?” asks Major Fitzmaurice, shocked at the previous answer.

“Oh, he only weighed around ten pounds when I got him,” says Kian innocently. “A local publican’s mastiff bitch got pregnant after he caught the wolfhound breeder’s escaped dog on her. All the other puppies went to farmers outside the city, but da’ was in there drinkin’ one day an’ decided to bring me ‘round to see if I wouldn’t like the biggest one. He fetched me straight from school an’ took me straight there. ‘Twas a huge excitement to be let into a pub, since I was but thirteen, an’ we took him home that night, since the owner was about to send the whole litter to the countryside.”

“Is he- ?”

“He’ll live as long as he avoids serious injury or dangerous disease, just like the horses an’ ourselves. He may be ten, but he’ll always be four inside.”

“What’s his name?”

“Killer.”

“How...charming.”

“Aw, come on, Major. He’s a good boy, honest. See? He’s thumpin’ his tail already. He won’t bite, but he might lick ye to death.”

Kian unexpectedly lets the dog off of its rope, and it immediately begins to sniff Major Fitzmaurice as he tries to back away. It then begins to lick his hands. He is shocked when such a large animal rests its paws on his shoulders and begins to lick his face enthusiastically.

“Down! Down! Enough!” shouts Major Fitzmaurice. Hearing a familiar command, albeit from an unfamiliar voice, the dog sits patiently at his feet. “Good...Killer...” The dog, remembering that he is free of his leash, walks around the back of the tent to sniff something. While there, he finds a small tree limb that fell in a windstorm, which he then picks up in his mouth and proudly caries back around the tent, eventually dropping it at Major Fitzmaurice’s feet before sitting and pawing at his leg. “What does he want?”

“He wants to play fetch. Throw the stick for him.”

“Stick? That’s a tree.”

After several hours of throwing an extremely large stick for Kian’s dog, whose energy is seemingly boundless, Major Fitzmaurice returns to his tent, where he finds Emily Barrett and three cats who have all taken up opposite corners in order to avoid each other. Major Fitzmaurice, who is never one to shun sexual advances from Emily Barrett, quickly takes the hint and brings her to his tent in the woods. Major Fitzmaurice, who is exhausted from the longest game of fetch ever played, wants to return to his tent to sleep for the night, but Emily would rather stay in the woods, as she brought the cats with them.

“Please, Billy,” pleads Lieutenant Barrett. “We can go again later.”

“‘Tisn’t a good idea. We’ll be busy tomorrow. We ought to sleep,” says Major Fitzmaurice, knowing that despite his protests, Emily will convince him, and he will fall asleep exactly where he is currently lounging in the tent in the woods in Emily’s arms.

Lieutenant Barrett says, “We haven’t a thing to do tomorrow besides muster.”

“We’ll be interrupted from ‘not a thing to do,’ jus’ ye wait an’ see.”

“How can ye be so sure?”

“We always are. There’s no such thing as ‘not a thing to do,’” says Major Fitzmaurice, lighting the pipe that Lieutenant Barrett gave him to replace his cigars, though he still feels a bit strange about it because it once belonged to her father.