How to Love

Chapter Twelve: The Cooking Staff Hates Me, Especially One Woman

I stuck my thumb into my mouth, sucking the blood that was exiting the new cut I had accidentally given myself from the cutting knife. It was my first day working in the kitchen, working to earn my keep. You would think I would be tied to that pole forever. Nope. I was in the kitchen sucking my thumb and hissing from the sting. 

"Oh, all right." Mrs. Neilson said. "Let me see that injury you have proposed upon yourself." 

Mrs. Neilson was the Head of the Cooking Staff here in the British camp. She assigned everyone their assignment. She assigned me with the task of salad. It wasn't too hard, except from the cuts I keep managing to give myself. 

My eyes stared at her with surprise written on my face. 

She sighed, "just because I am a British woman does not mean I do not care. Give it here. Come on." 

My thumb slipped from my mouth and she grabbed it gently, examining it. "It's fine. Just put cold water on it." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Neilson," I thanked. 

"You're welcome, dearly." she said. "Now, work on those salads after you washed that bleeding thumb of yours. And be careful of the knife next time!" she quietly yelled as she walked away. 

After I rinsed my thumb with cold water to numb the bleeding, I returned to cutting the salad. I cut lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and all the things you could think of being in a salad. "Mrs. Neilson!" I called. 

I heard her heels stop near my side. "Looks good, Miss Martin." 

She grabbed the bowl and excused me from the kitchen. I left the tent and was met by Tavington. 

His icy blues eyes looked me over before grabbing my arm roughly, dragging me towards the tent I was interrogated in. "Hey! What are you doing?" I breathed out. 

"Continuing your interrogation, Miss Martin." he said. "I did say it would continue." He threw me into the tent and I stumbled to keep my balance.

"Harsh, aren't you?" I said, rubbing my reddened arm. 

He stared at me blankly before responding, "indeed. But I suppose you haven't just discovered that? I do suggest, Miss. Martin, you would become adjusted to these discoveries of yours based on my character. It would help you immensely to get used to your treatment. But I am not always so crude," he drank down his flask of water, "for I am not going to tie you to that pole. I am, instead, going to let you sit in that chair over there. Unless you want to be tied?"

I shook my head.

"Good decision, Miss Martin." he said. "Let's begin." 

The harsh interrogation had started. 

-Time skip to later-

I was walking beside the vast river with swift currents, hearing the thrashing of water hit rocks and logs that were in its path. I was kicking stones into the river out of boredom. My previous interrogation angered Tavington more but he had not slapped me. And for that, I was grateful. 

I did not plan to hear deep voices in my journey, but alas, the voices planned to be in my plan. The voices obviously belonged to two males and they weren't very far. I crept closer, intrigued to what they were saying. Could I pick out any information? I suppose if it's any information that is useful. 

I hid behind a tree and tossed my head around the trunk to find two males in a very compromising position. One held the other against the tree while the other looked like he was...enjoying his back's attachment to the tree? Soon enough, it came to my attention that these two loved each other for the one pinning the other slammed his lips onto the other's lips. And frankly, the pinned male responded. 

Not wanting to spy any longer, I crept quickly out of the area and back to the camp where I found a little girl crying. 

"What's wrong, little one?" I asked, bending down to her level. 

"I-I can't f-find my m-mother," she said sobbing. 

The little girl had ginger hair and hazel eyes. She was wearing a simple, but beautiful dress filled with many designs. "Well, let's not have you worry any longer. Let's find her." I reached out my hand and she hesitantly took it. I pulled her up off of the ground and walked slowly with her. "What's your mother's name and what does she look like?" 

"Margaret Kingston. She has blonde hair and hazel eyes. She's medium tall." she responded. 

"Do you know where she would be?" I asked.

The little girl shook her head and I told her it will be okay and started heading to areas where lots of women would be at. Hopefully, no soldier tents. We walked about fifteen minutes before I heard a loud scream calling out "Georgina!" I whipped my head around to see a medium tall woman running towards me frankly. "Keep your filthy, rebel hands off of my daughter!" she spat out distastefully, harshly grabbing Georgina out of my gentle grasp. 

"Well, maybe my 'filthy' hands wouldn't have been on your daughter if you could do your part as a mother!" loads of gasps came from the tent beside us which I recognized to be the cooking tent. The whole staff was parked outside and they were watching the scene before them. 

"How dare you!" the mother lectured. "How dare you speak to me like that! I am a wife of a soldier in His Majesty's Army! You will do me well with respect, you heathen!" 

"Well, I expect to be treated respectfully." I said. "You may not realize, but I am not a fully detained prisoner. I have to earn my keep here, as do you. I am the same just with different beliefs." 

She glared at me before picking up Georgina and leaving.

Great..I managed to make someone other than Tavington hate me. Way to go Almyra.