Dear, Hamilton

Socializing and Cold

After Washington offers me a position as a nurse and I accept, our group falls into easy conversation.

"I believe General Cornwallis intends to attack New York," Nathaniel Greene is saying in a wizened voice, his eyes turned towards Washington fretfully. 

Washington simply nods, his voice solemn and thoughtful. "I would expect as much from the British general," he answers. "We cannot allow him to take hold of New York City. It is a major port and essential for our army and its supplies."

"He certainly has the men to take the city since he has offered freedom to slaves if they join their ranks," Laurens adds pointedly in a know-it-all tone, eyes turning towards Washington. "That's why we should reciprocate the same offer-"

I suddenly hear footsteps behind me, and the men in front of me fall silent as they look behind me in unison at the person approaching. I turn around to find Colonel Hamilton stopping a few feet away as he salutes General Washington. "Sir," he greets briskly. 

He's cleaned up since I'd seen him last about thirty minutes ago. His face is washed, and his clothes are fresh. My eyes dip down to his shoes to find not a speck of dirt on them. 

When my eyes slid up to his face, I'm almost surprised to find him not looking at me. Instead, he's giving the men hard looks as if disapproving of their lack of participation in the fighting. The one hit the hardest is John Laurens, who seems to shrink back at his cold stare. 

I'm appalled by Hamilton's behavior. Laurens is his friend! 

"Colonel Hamilton, I'm glad to see you on your feet," General Greene is the first to break the silence, giving the young colonel a friendly smile.

Hamilton's returning smile looks forced. "Thank you, sir." He turns to Washington as he inquires, "Permission to ride to New York City early." 

I shrink back in surprise. He wants to leave already? I mean, I don't blame him what with all the bodies everywhere and the smell of decay and sounds of groaning men but- 

I thought he'd wait for me. Or at least ride back with me. Now I just sound self-centered, so I quiet down my mind and tune back into the conversation.

Washington nods. "Granted."

All I want to do is turn on Washington, shake him on his broad shoulders, and demand, why? Hamilton is still injured and feverish. I can tell because his face is wane, and he's holding himself stiffly as if he's worried he'll pull his newly acquired stitches. 

Besides Hamilton's state, there could still be British soldiers on the rampage around the camp. Hamilton would be a valuable prisoner, especially when used against General Washington. 

I stifle the urge to shake some sense into Washington, deeming it would be extremely improper, and return my gaze to Colonel Hamilton's face.

Without a glance towards me, Hamilton dips his head and turns sharply on his heel. I watch the door slam shut behind him as he leaves. I turn to Lafayette with an unspoken question in my eyes, and he whispers to me, "I got his horse, don't worry."

I almost want to laugh at his answer. Almost. 

I'm too confused at Hamilton's behavior to laugh. 

***

We should have only stayed in that sickeningly well-furnished house for an hour before riding to New York, but Washington stays for two hours, forcing Lafayette, Laurens, and me to wait longer to return home. 

I spend the time sneaking food from the tables and occasionally chatting to mostly kind officers with a few being too arrogant for my liking. Lafayette stays at my side for half the time. The other time I spend by myself as Lafayette separates to talk with a few of the officers and important generals, and I use the time to study the people and their mannerisms.