Once I have got that letter written nice, I tuck it with the map inside my coat pocket. Putting it in Sergeant’s mailbag will have to wait for morning because there is Jeremiah coming back down the aisle with an armful of wood and the rest of the boys and it is a sure thing they are all hungry.
INSIDE OUR TENT, while Jeremiah does up the ties on the flap, I sit on my blankets and wonder how it is we are supposed to be husband and wife here where we still ain’t got real walls. Since leaving home I ain’t slept outside of my clothes even once, ain’t even washed, really. Not with Mama’s lavender water like I sometimes used to. But then Jeremiah turns to me.
‘We ain’t had time like this since we were back home,’ he whispers.
‘You think it’s okay here?’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ Jeremiah asks.
All the nights we shared a tent with the O’Malleys, sometimes after Henry would get to snoring and Jimmy would start up with grinding his teeth, Jeremiah’s hands would find me, would find their way to places, sometimes I would find my way to him, our mouths bearing down on each other’s to keep from making sound.
‘If anybody hears …’ I say, wishing for our Little House away in the woods. ‘Or if there was action and we had to get up and we weren’t—’ It’s like we are sneaking and worrying, like before we were married.
‘You think too much,’ Jeremiah says, and as he sinks down in front of me, I know he is right.
He reaches to touch my hair and I remember rinsing it in vinegar to be nice for him.
‘I miss this,’ he says.
‘It’ll grow back. When we’re done soldiering.’
‘Mrs. Wakefield,’ Jeremiah whispers.
‘Yes,’ I say, thinking how he ain’t had occasion to call me that since we were back home.
‘It is nice being with you,’ he says. ‘Just you.’
I kiss him then, and I don’t care about the O’Malleys or Sully and Will in the tents next to ours or what they might hear. In the dark, I tear at Jeremiah’s shirt and his hands work at mine. His skin is smooth under that shirt, not like the roughness of his hands that are working to unwrap my binding and I will never get myself bound up in time if the bugles or drums call us, but then he has got the binding free and he lowers me onto our scratchy woolen blankets. I wish for our soft bed and covers to lie in, until our chests press together, so warm. Then we are pulling and kicking our way out of our trousers, our breath coming fast, and trying to keep quiet as we lie like man and wife, but I can’t help myself and I call Jeremiah to me, whispering his name, whispering ‘Mr. Wakefield’ so I can hear him call me my rightful name again.
AFTER WHAT SEEMS like hours at morning inspection, Sergeant Ames finally dismisses our work teams. We march through the palisade gate, and I shift my knapsack again, trying to ease my back. Only now there is a tightness rippling across my belly too. Relief washes over me that the aching ain’t got a thing to do with the pack I’m carrying, but then a wave of worry comes. I’ve got to get myself a moment alone in the stand of trees we’ve been cutting down so the Army can keep this fort up. Much longer and there won’t be a way to keep the secret of what I am.
I scurry down the rough dirt road next to Jeremiah. We ain’t but a few steps when Edward pulls something out of his pocket.
‘My brother sent me a carte de visite I bet you’d all pay money to see,’ he says, and holds the card out on the palm of his hand. Hiram is closest and as soon as he bends over to take a look, he gets to hooting. That makes the other boys, Henry and Jimmy and young Frank Morgan, crowd around. Ambrose is the only one who keeps walking.
Frank is saying, ‘I wouldn’t mind poking a girl like that!’ as I try to elbow my way through the clump of bodies, Jeremiah slowing in front of me.
There, in the palm of Edward’s meaty hand, is a picture of a lady with no clothes on, lying on a couch for anyone to see. I’ve never seen such a thing.
‘Oh,’ I say, just before Jeremiah pushes me back out of the way. I catch Will’s eyes and he drops them right to the ground.
Thomas says, ‘I don’t want to look at a woman of low virtue. And none of you ought to either.’
It makes the boys break up their circle and get back to walking, even though Hiram tells Thomas, ‘Your wife ain’t anywhere near but you are still the stodgiest man I ever fucking met!’
‘Some people call it fidelity,’ Thomas snaps.
I touch Jeremiah’s elbow. He slows down until all our party is gone up ahead.
‘Rosetta, I didn’t even really look at what was on that—And anyway, while you’re here you’re going to have to get used to—’