Chapter 4
Will and Thomas watched as Maggie angrily threw clothes and weapons into a duffel bag, stumbling every now and then.
“Um, Margaret, Maggie, do you need help?” Thomas couldn’t help but ask. Pale fingers stopped grasping rough fabrics and green eyes landed on Thomas Wate. Thomas had dark blonde hair and doe brown eyes and she couldn’t help but feel bad for the young man.
His age couldn’t be that far off from her age of 19 and he’d probably been ripped away from a family that loved him and maybe even a girlfriend.
“No, thank you, Thomas. You can go I’m almost done here. I’ll be ready in five minutes.” Grayson knew she needed the five minutes of solitude so he nodded and pulled Wate out by his arm.
Thomas looked back at William confused, “Don’t look at me like that, Whitmore needs those five minutes alone and we both know she deserves them.” Thomas smiled and told William he was going to get their bags.
Maggie was glad they were gone, she refused to be weak in front of them. Tears swept down her face as she realized she’d never be good enough for them. The men in her troop would never appreciate her, as far as she knew she’d die in this war.
Numb digits searched her throat for the thin gold line circling her neck. The necklace was all she had left of her family other than the wretched old man dying in North Carolina. More salty dew drops streamed down her cheeks as she grasped the chain.
Will didn’t want to intrude on the five minutes he had promised her, but he could hear her sobs. William Grayson had three sisters at home and he’d been raised on the principle that if there was woman crying you did anything you could to comfort her.
He lifted the tent flap and stepped into the small space, Margaret was hunched over her cot holding onto her mother’s necklace. Will’s serious demeanor fell as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Shush, you’re okay. Hush, Maggie, you’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”
Will repositioned himself as she fell into him and the sobs racked her body. The two soldiers sat with each other in her tent as her breathing calmed and he rubbed her back.
“Thank you, William.”
“It’s Will, call me Will.”
“Call me Maggie.”
Her dark hair swayed as she nodded signaling she’d call him Will and it was time to get off the floor. They’d gotten up just in time as Trask was walking by telling all of his soldiers it was time to go.
Just before Trask was about to open the tent door Grayson and Whitmore emerged out of the small confines of the tent.
William had Margaret’s bag in one hand and the other planted firmly on her waist as they maneuvered around the intimidating man.
“General Trask,” Maggie greeted Trask coldly and continued to move away forcing William to walk with her in fear of her falling.
“Whitmore, Grayson.”
The general watched the two move towards the trucks to load their bags. Randall Trask wasn’t sure what had happened in that hour they’d been given, but Margaret Whitmore was not alone in this war anymore.
