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Asking for Directions {darkangel76 & Alan23}

A coy smile played upon Andie's lips though the moment she realized the slight tug at their corners, she relaxed them and immediately felt a heat rising to her cheeks. Nearly forgetting herself, she almost raised up a hand to touch them. However, knowing it would only draw further attention to the blush, she merely averted her eyes for a moment and cleared her throat. Letting out a soft sigh, she decided it better to smooth out her dress... unfortunately, that only drew her attention to the back of it. Was it bunching? Or was she just imagining things? Surely, she was just over thinking the entire situation...

Deciding that perhaps she was letting a strange sense of nervousness get to her, Andie let out an exhale and set her jaw. She would not let the soldiers' rude behavior deter her nor would she let the fact that she'd smiled—even shyly—deter her from her plan. She had a point to make. Besides, Mr. McAuley was indeed the only man in the entire convoy who knew how to treat a lady of good breeding and social standing. Therefore, he earned this small privilege she was about to allow as a favor.

"Mr. McAuley, I would never jest about a jaunt when the weather is as fair as it is right now," Andie stated. Her dark eyes fixed upon Charles'. "The fresh air and turn about the area will do us both some good." She turned to look upon the gaping soldiers and sniffed in their direction, her haughty gaze shifting so that she could turn her attention back to her 'guest'. The moment she did, her expression changed, a slight sweetness assuaging any airs she might have been showing. "Besides, I insist."

At that, Andie gestured that the soldiers help Charles out of his 'cage'. Feigning boredom at their slow movements, she moved out of the way, her slips shifting and riding underneath her skirts with each step that she made. She could feel the material rubbing against her skin underneath, the likes of which were uncomfortable to say the least. Biting down on her lower lip, she chanced a quick glance over her shoulder to see if things were bunching. Oh, how it felt as if things were! Perhaps her initial intuition had indeed been correct... maybe she hadn't been imagining that part of things after all!

Peering behind herself, Andie noticed the green satin wrinkling in the back. The sight of it made her gasp, her nose wrinkling in fear as her eyes welled with tears. Oh, of all the luck and timing! What would Charles think when he saw this? And, why did she even care?

She was a lady... Andie had to remind herself. All ladies care about such things. Harry would want her to care. Wouldn't he? Oh, she didn't know. Did it even matter? Glancing about herself, she began to wonder if the soldiers had noticed her newest problem for it wouldn't be long before they did, she was certain. These low class scoundrels had their entertainment now and she was the main attraction! So, the sooner she had her walk, the better. She loathed how the men of the 7th stared and teased, whispered and gossiped. They were worse than the cattier women beneath her own station who felt the need to ridicule in order to better their egos! How ghastly!

Not wanting to draw attention to her bunching slips, Andie moved so that her back was facing away from as many of the soldiers as possible. She just hoped she found a means to fix it so that Charles wouldn't notice. Perhaps he'd allow her to excuse herself? Oh, that wouldn't work... he was an assassin, a murderer! Though, maybe she could trust him for a moment while she adjusted herself... if she asked. Yes, perhaps she could. He'd been chivalrous and honorable so far and the area was surrounded. He wouldn't try anything, she was sure of it. He wouldn't dare. Would he?
 
At first, Galvie put Miss Hammond's obvious nervousness down to the daringness of her suggestion. After all, was he not an assassin, and a major bargaining chip in the peace talks at that? Much to his own surprise, the thought of taking advantage of her suggestion and then, as soon as possible, making his escape, was a plan he dismissed as soon as he'd thought of it. He told himself that it was because it was too soon, that biding his time until they were further away from any established settlement, would make his recapture more difficult. He almost convinced himself he believed it.

He waked alongside her, as the circled the camp. At her suggestion, he began the story of hos he had ended up where he was. He told her of Annesland, a land of great culture and charm, where the traditional British virtues and tolerance merged with the dynamism of the New World, of its fertile soil and huge plantations, its traditions and natural beauty, its stability and power. But he was forced to tell her of its darker side, too. That unlike the Mother Country, there had never been a swing towards greater self-determination for its less fortunate people. That it was a land where the aristocracy held all the power and privilege, where the poor starved, and where a boy born into a lower social class had no hopes whatsoever for advancement.

He told of his upbringing, and his joining the Republican Party. Of their efforts to be given a place on the Governor's Advisory Committee, where they could provide the voice of the common people. Of their daring plan to bring in the idea, originally developed in Ancient Athens, of the people actually electing their leader. Amerika, after all, used such a system, and in the more fortunate independent nation every rich landowner and successful businessman had a say in who would be president. Ideally, he admitted, the party would have preferred one vote for every citizen, but a meeting of the inner circle had declared this idea so radical they would gain no support if they used it as their platform.

He told of how, despite their best efforts (and total adherence to legal methods of making their point) they were subject to persecution. How their leader was arrested for treason and executed, though he had broken no laws. Of how even to be a member of the party was made illegal, punishable by confiscation of all of their possessions. Of how, after some time, despairing of even surviving, the remaining members, meeting in secret, had decided on a daring plan. And how they had drawn lots as to who was to do the deed.

He told her of the irony that though he had spoken out against assassination - declaring that killing was killing, even for political ends, and not to be countenanced unless defending one's country in uniform - he had drawn the short straw. The rest was too painful a memory, and she could, no doubt, work out what had happened from there, anyway.

As they walked and talked, two things were impinging upon his consciousness. The first were certain noises. It was broad daylight, yet he fancied he occasionally heard the shuffling and movement of animals in the nearby scrub, and the hooting of owls in the trees. At one point he even thought he caught the glint of a metallic rifle barrel from a thicket, and moved to jump in front of her, but managed to control himself, guessing that it might be a trooper of the 7th keeping a discreet watch on them. This, he felt, was understandable enough. Colonel Bertram had not liked above half the idea of Miss Hammond taking him for a stroll, and Galvie didn't blame him!

The second thing was the attitude of Miss Hammond herself. She was acting somewhat strangely, even allowing for her nervousness at what was happening. She was walking confidently enough (though the pace was not fast, for he had matched his to hers, and knew that her shoes would not permit too fast a stride,) yet seemed to be making heavy weather of it. She kept patting at her sides and rear, and shimmying as she walked, as if she had something stuck to her. At first he thought her dress might be riding up on her, but it was a perfectly modest length, and she was certainly not revealing enough leg to be considered in any way indecent.

And as they proceeded, her strange gyrations seemed to be occurring more and more. Was she, he wondered, suffering some discomfort. In deference to he sensibilities, he made sure to look straight ahead whenever she ran her hands down her dress, which did not permit him to look at her as much as he liked... yet whenever he glanced at her face, he noticed that she seemed to be blushing, though he had been careful not to say anything that might induce such a reaction. He knew her face tended to color up when he paid her a compliment, but he had done no such thing. And yet, he could not avoid noticing, the blush was becoming worse. he'd thought it a reddening from exertion at first, yet she was not perspiring and it was not an especially hot day.

There came a point when they had to pick their way through some gnarled tree-roots half embedded in the ground, and, as anyone even half way to the pretense of a being a gentleman would be, was compelled to help her, though he made sure to touch her as little as possible, and always in such a way that he was obviously not taking advantage. This action, however, forced him at one point to look down at her legs - and, with a shock, he realized that the outline of her thighs and bloomers were, in the strong light, very much obvious through her dress.

"But surely," he thought, "Any lady would wear a slip, perhaps even two, with such a dress." And then he recalled that when he'd looked at her before, she had indeed been wearing such garments. Yet he was sure she'd had no opportunity to remove them - and, anyway, why would she? The few seconds he was obliged to look at her finally gave him a possible answer, for under the dress on the upper part of her thighs was a large wad of what looked like material, as if the slips in question had somehow rolled upwards.

He was diverted from such speculation - and indeed, he knew it was none of his business what might be taking place under the president's daughter's skirt - by the crack of a twig. He stared ahead, but saw nothing. His opinion of the 7th went up a notch or two. He knew how hard it was to stalk someone and give no sign, and he'd expected any trooper of the unit to blunder about like an elephant in a china shop. Obviously, then, they had at least one man capable of true bushcraft. Why, if not for that single mistake, even he would never have known they had a shadow at all.

He turned his attention back to Miss Hammond, and caught her in mid-pat. Quickly, he turned away, giving no indication that he had seen.
 
Andie tried her best to listen as Charles spoke, managing to catch most of what he'd said—at least the important bits anyway. She'd heard him speak of his past, the unfairness of Anneslands laws, his unfortunate calling to an unpopular party and how he'd had the misfortune of drawing the shortest straw rendering him now where he was... guarded, imprisoned and ready to be handed over to be tried for his crimes. And all due to ideals unable to be pursued because he'd been more or less born in the wrong nation. Had he been Amerikan by birthright, he'd have suffered less. Of that, she was most certain!

Scowling, Andie shimmied a bit trying to move her slips that had all but bunched up in the back. It was more than distracting as she tried to listen to Charles. And it didn't help that she knew the soldiers were waiting to whisper and chuckle at her expense. Well, she'd certainly show them! If not now, then later. In the end, they'd all pay for their insolence, her father would see to that. Then, it was a fortunate thing being the daughter of the president. Why these men could not see that was beyond her. But perhaps they could not help it being of poor breeding and upbringing as most of them seemed to be given their behavior. Had they been proper gentleman, they'd have shown her the proper respect she deserved.

A few times, Andie attempted to tug on her skirts, hoping that by pulling on the green fabric, the slips would somehow fall loose about her tiny body. But unfortunately, it was to no avail. The gestures only served to make things worse, causing her to have to squirm within the tight confines of her outfit, desperately trying to make the material of the slip fall. However, it clung to her body underneath the outer material and she knew it was causing everything underneath to show. The fabric being delicate as it was only hid so much, the slips were to help provide some semblance of decency while helping to fill out the shape. But these slips were of no help. They rode up her body, bunching in the back, causing her to become panicked as well as very embarrassed.

When Andie saw Charles glance away, she seized the moment in sheer desperation and gave a hard tug on her skirt. She'd been sure to grab at her slips underneath the green satin, but it hadn't been enough to pull all of the slip free from the wad that had been forming in the rear. Still, when Charles looked back, she moved her hands so that it appeared that she was merely smoothing out the material of her gown, nothing more. Giving him a smile, her cheeks reddened and she had all she could do not to avert her gaze and bite down on her lower lip.

"Might I inquire what has grabbed your attention, Mr. McAuley? Have you found some new breed of bird out in this... place?" Andie had to stop herself from cursing the Ozarks. More than anything she longed for the comforts of Chicago and, for a moment, she imagined what it might be like if Charles donned one of the fancier suits of the aristocracy and she held his arm as they walked down the road to the theater after exiting one of her father's privately owned Tesla-mobiles.

Just then, Andie blinked her dark eyes. What had she just thought? Biting down on her lower lip, her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. Taking in a breath, she told herself that the only reason the thought entered her mind was because Charles was the only man on this trip showing any semblance of decency. Surely, Harry would be more than honorable if he'd been there. Of course, he would be. At least, her parents believed he would be and that was what mattered. Wasn't it? After all, she trusted her father in everything, why shouldn't she trust him in his decision that Harry Smythe was the perfect man to be her husband?

"Or, has something else more interesting diverted your attentions elsewhere?" Andie tilted her head slightly as she looked over at Charles. Though she knew it, but didn't want to admit it, her own words had more than one meaning. The resounding tone of jealousy in her words were enough to give her away though she had no idea she sounded as much. Cheeks flushed, she went back to smoothing her skirts.
 
"Ma'am, I'd be hard pressed to find anything more intriguing than yourself," Galvie replied. He wondered, in truth, on just how many levels the conversation was taking place. Surely, if Miss Hammond were suffering difficulties with her unmentionable attire - and unless the poor girl had invented some new kind of dance, and had suddenly decided to rehearse it on the post, then difficulties she most certainly was having - then, surely, she must have discerned that he was looking elsewhere simply to spare her feelings. Was she so naive she didn't realize this. Or, perhaps, sophisticated enough to know exactly what he was doing, and he had been doing it without sufficient subtlety - and in fact, her coded message was "please don't look away too overtly - for, despite your intentions, you're making it obvious that you've noticed my predicament."

"But I do apologies for my gaze being elsewhere, Ma'am. To be honest... "

Well, one thing he could not do, right now, was be honest. He could hardly say "Whenever I look at you, I can see right through your dress to an indecent degree," nor "I suspect someone - and I most desperately hope it's someone on our side - is lurking in the bushes," or even "Madam, your beauty is most disconcerting, making me feel like a starving urchin, pressing h8is nose against the window of a luxurious restaurant," all of which, he would have been forced to concede, were true indeed.

"...to be honest," he improvised, quickly, "It feels good to look upon open ground again. I have been incarcerated some months, firstly in a static jail, and then in a moving one."

He cursed himself for using the word "static," - by no means the best choice, for, surely, it was static electricity, that fascinating phenomenon discovered by Tesla in his abortive attempts to power engines by electrical waves (and, finally, abandoned in favor of the gas/compressed air motors that were currently in use) - and hoped he hadn't, thereby, disconcerted her even more. For there was no doubt that the removal of her "second line of defense" was continuing at a rapid rate. Once they had moved out from the shadow of the trees, the strong sun was, not to put too fine a point upon it, not being kind to her modesty! In fact, things had already reached a stage where it was impossible to pretend one hadn't noticed. The area between Miss Hammond's waist and the mid-point of her hips was so crowded under her dress with the filmy material of her slips it looked as if she had added twenty pounds to her apparent form. The massed, crumpled material must surely, he thought, have been as uncomfortable as it was mortifying.

His only recourse, then, was to look only at her face, but even this gave little relief from the awkwardness of the situation, for it was now obvious that Miss Hammond was, herself, aware of her dishabille. It was an awkward situation indeed.

And then, an idea struck him.

"Miss Hammond," he said, injecting a note of casual indifference into his voice, "One thing I have always found about myself is that one sense is always heightened when another is underutilized. Have you also found this? For example, when I was young, a lump of wax in my ear caused temporary deafness, and during this time I found colors were brighter and more vivid. Similarly, when I suffer a cold, I find my senses of touch increase as my senses of smell and taste depart. Would you find me wildly eccentric if I were to stand here, just for a few seconds, with my eyes closed - in order to greater appreciate the open, clean smell of this place, and thereby help me to remember it when I am again confined?"
 
An odd sense of triumph filled Andie when Charles mentioned his intrigue. So much so that she nearly forgot about her predicament in which her slips seemed to be riding up her tiny body only to gather about her waist. But only nearly. A lady such as herself couldn't help but remain distracted, at least in part, by the fact that the material had bunched and gathered as it had. Truly, this was a nightmare! Had she been back in Chicago, she'd have been a laughing stock, the center of gossip among all social circles—since clearly the news of her disarray would find its way to every ear within at least thirty miles, if not more, of the city—due to what was happening. With each step she made, she was becoming more and more indecent to any eye that happened to glance her way. And, well, seeing as in her present circumstance, most of her company was male...

Oh, it was beyond horrifying! This was no way to impress anyone! Impress? Had she just thought that... Who was she to impress anyone! It was she who deserved to be impressed!

Scowling inwardly, Andie suddenly felt her dark eyes sting as the tears began to well, threatening to spill down along her perfect, alabaster cheeks. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and let herself have a cry, but she was in no position to do so. It would only draw more attention to her current problem, place her at the disadvantage and, as it was, she was already the one who was clearly at the disadvantage of everything!

Andie attempted a smile when Charles mentioned he was glad to be out of his 'cage', her thoughts still dwelling on her slips. She knew she looked frightful. Her waist made heavy in appearance by the gathering of material, her legs all but showing now that the slips were no longer there. Oh, it was dreadful! She could already hear Harry's voice in her head, his distaste for what was happening. No doubt, he'd be upset to see her in such a state, would probably blame her as well. So typical! Who was he to blame her anyway?

Feeling remarkably revolting and unfit to be seen, Andie had to resist the urge to suddenly run. Her movements and squirms were no longer working and any tugs she managed to do discreetly had absolutely no affect. It was all useless. Pointless! Just as she thought all was lost, Charles began to speak, making mentionings about the senses.

So peculiar, yet so... perfect!

As Charles' words began to register in Andie's mind, a smile began to play along her lips. Slowly, a heat began to creep over her exposed flesh causing it to become pink before turning it a glowing red hue. "Mr. McAuley," she started. "I'd be more than happy to oblige you," Averting her gaze, she looked down at the ground beneath her feet.

The moment Charles looked away, Andie bit down on her lower lip. She then tested his vision by waving her hand in front of him, checking to see if he was peeking. Whether he was or was not, she wasn't certain. For if he was, she was not able to tell. Deciding to trust that he could not see—figuring he'd never once given her a reason not to trust him—she immediately went to work on adjusting her slips. Her first inclination was to tug on them over the green satin of her skirts. But the idea was instantly foiled when all that did was make things worse. It didn't take her long to realize that in order to fix her situation, she would actually have to lift up her skirt and pull the slips down that way.

Sighing, Andie braced herself for the inevitable and hoisted up her skirt. Her legs showed themselves—bared for all to see who happened to be in the area—and as they became exposed, her cheeks grew exceptionally hot. Frantically, she began to pull her slips down, making sure to smooth each one out and that each one is in its proper place before moving on to the next. Finally, she was done and able to move on to rearranging the satin that was her skirt. Once it was smoothed to perfection, she let out a contented sigh and turned to look at Charles.

"So, have you gained a greater appreciation, Mr. McAuley?" Andie then asked, her cheeks still quite hot as she looked over at Charles. "Do you think you'll recall the smell of the air of this place?" She genuinely wondered even though she knew his actions hadn't been for his own benefit, but for her own, if he would benefit. And interestingly, a small part of her actually found itself hoping that he would.
 
Galvie's statement that voluntarily depriving oneself of a single sense enhanced the others had not been entirely an invention. He'd always noted, for example, that at night his hearing and sense of smell seemed more acute. He had, in fact, lied to Miss Hammond in a very ironic sense - for while she was totally under the impression that he had been seeking an excuse to close his eyes to enable her to straighten her misbehaving nether garments without embarrassment (or, at least, a lesser intensity of that unwelcome emotion,) he had, in fact, also had an entirely different agenda.

For some minutes his idle thought that someone had been lurking in the bushes had hardened to a certainty. And with it had come the realization that it was probably not some trooper of the 7th, dispatched to provide security and preventing him taking advantage of Miss Hammond's merciful nature to affect an escape. For, he reasoned, why would a guard need to lurk unseen. They had every right to be there - in fact, would have been ordered to be present - and would, therefore have presented themselves openly and without subterfuge.

Ergo, the person (or persons) stalking them were not of their party, and probably meant no good to either of them.

He had closed his eyes in order to heighten his sense of hearing and aid himself in the detection of any such person, and had, therefore, been telling absolute truth as to his reasoning. The strategy, however, worked even better than he had planned, for as Miss Hammond flung up her dress to untangle her bothersome petticoats, he had caught, just for a split second, a giggle, hastily muffled though it was. And it was unlikely that a member of the 7th cavalry would have a voice quite so high, no matter how tight his trousers!

It was fortunate that Miss Hammond's ears were nowhere near as sensitive as his, and that, suspecting nothing, she had not been deliberately listening for suspicious signs. If she had heard the furtive giggle (obviously caused by her loss of dignity) she would have been not only embarrassed but also may well have panicked. They were withing shout, just, of the temporary encampment, but the closeness of the bushes in which their adversary (or, more likely, adversaries) were slinking meant that by the time any of the soldiers could be alerted and rush to their aid, it might well have been too late. At first, he had suspected a band of native inhabitants (which the Amerikans, he had learned, called "Indians") but the area through which they were traveling was not part of the hunting ground of any of the Indian nations, and being coarse scrubland broken by patches of trees would not support the caribou, buffalo and other animals which would support a viable hunting community.

There were other possibilities that he liked even less, and which caused his to look furtively around, and wish he had a weapon, that he were not weakened by months of confinement, and that Miss Hammond were not with him, for (and to his credit) the danger to her weighed more with him than any threat to himself.

Anyway, at least the lesser problem had been solved. For Miss Hammond now looked more comfortable, both in a physical and mental sense. The clinging material of her dress again presented a mirror-smooth appearance to the world, and those perfect legs were hidden from view by the layers of slip that she had managed to haul back into their proper place. She was blushing, of course, for though neither had mentioned her predicament, both were fully aware that it had occurred. He also fancied he could discern a look bordering on gratitude for his discretion when she asked if he had, by now, drunk his fill of the smells of the place, an inquiry to which he replied in the affirmative.

"I must express my gratitude for your civilized attitude towards me, Miss Hammond," he said, giving her a small bow. "You have shown me mercy far and above that which I deserve. Though I probably won;t be here to see the fruits of it, I truly hope your mission is successful, for if you are an example of Amerikan womanhood, nothing but good can come from peace between our nations."

He made it subtly obvious by his stance and looks toward the encampment that he was now perfectly prepared to accompany her back to his cage, as his parole required.

*****

As soon as Miss Hammond was out of earshot, and he was back in h8is chains and cage, Galvie called the guard to him. He told him what he had heard and seen, the glint of what may have been a rifle barrel, the feminine giggle, the owl-hoots in broad daylight. The guard pooh-poohed his warning, asking what game he was playing, and added that if he tried any such tricks again, he'd learn what it was like to be trashed with the barrels of several rifle-butts. Galvie was, therefore, unable to do anything but shrug inwardly, knowing he'd done his best to aid the security of the entourage, and make careful plans as to what he would do if they were to be attacked.

It surprised even himself that these plans took into acc9uont the desired safety of Miss Andromeda Hammond as well as himself.
 
Blushing a deep shade of red, Andie couldn't help but smile as Charles expressed his thanks. Truly, it was most peculiar how a man such as he managed to always know the right things to say and the proper way to act. He must've been gifted with talents unlike any man she'd ever known or had come across. To have such manner and gentile, certainly his tastes rivaled even those of her own social circle! Why, he put not only all the men she knew to shame, but...

Just then, Andie stopped the thought before it went any further. Oh, to admit such a things were even crossing her mind at all! It was a disgrace that it was wandering, though at least she had the sense to keep such things to herself—far from the prying eyes and listening ears of those who'd feed off such trivial things when all it was, was a girl merely acknowledging talent and impeccable demeanor where it was due.

That was all... wasn't it?

So what if Charles was nicer to look at than any other man she'd seen before. And Andie was strictly going by his face alone, that and the way he wore the clothes he donned. Of course, the image of him bare-chested and damp from showering was the last image she recalled... At that, her cheeks grew warmer.

And so what if Charles was interesting to talk to. The man had clearly traveled to many places, seen many things, talked to many people. He was a wealth of information for anyone wishing to know about anything. And again, Andie paid no mind to the fact that each time she went to see him, she worried and fretted over the impression she'd make, that she felt tiny flutters in the pit of her tummy as she trekked from either her coach or her tent to where he was held captive... As she tried to push the thought out of her head, her cheeks grew even hotter.

"You flatter me, Mr. McAuley," Andie stated sweetly, curtsying low as she spoke. "Though I thank you for saying such things."

Just then, a part of Andie twisted up on the inside, almost as much as her slips had done before she'd been given—yes, given—the opportunity to adjust them. She found herself wishing that the journey to New Orleans could somehow slow, that time could somehow alter itself. But it was a silly notion, one that would more than likely get her reprimanded by her father, by... Harry.

Oh, Harry... The very name was starting to strike a dissonant chord.

As Andie peered up at Charles beneath her lashes, she gave him a smile and moved to stand upright. Her expression showed her disappointment that their jaunt was over. But duty had called to them both—she needed to get back to the safety of her coach and he had to go back to the confines of his 'cage'. The unfairness left her bitter leaving her in a foul mood. If only Helen had been about. The woman would have served as a wonderful sounding board given her current predicament.

Predicament? Just what sort of predicament was she in...?

~~~

The night had been dreadful and, like always, Andie had difficulties sleeping. The noises of the night had left her more than frightened, longing for the safe haven of her bed back home in Chicago. On more than one occasion, she actually thought on Charles and how he was outside, more or less unprotected, in his prison. How he could stand such a thing was beyond her comprehension. Truly it had to bother him on some level and to some degree. If she'd been locked up in such a way, she'd have gone mad!

Getting ready for her day proved to be her most taxing yet. Especially since Andie was doing things unassisted. She wished Helen had been about despite the fact that the girl had her nuances and quirks that drove her batty, causing her fuse to grow shorter by the moment as it burned brightly and eventually went off all together. In the end, she did a good job of things. And now, being where she was, it was even clearer as to how much she truly relied on her.

Andie looked at her dress of choice, smiling both fondly and proudly at the piece of extravagance. Truly, it was one of her more exquisite dresses, totally unfit for the Ozarks. But she hardly cared. She wanted to feel extra pretty for some reason and the gown she'd chosen would more than do the job. She ran her fingers over the lush red fabric. The bodice was red silk with intricate brocade work patterned all over it. The skirt had several layers of red chiffon atop red crinoline. Unlike most of her dresses, this one was daring, bold. It called for attention to the one who wore it as it allowed for a bit more flesh to be exposed at the chest and the arms.

Like always, getting dressed was difficult. Andie first put on her corset, having to tightening by herself using the trick that Helen had taught her prior to leaving Chicago. Next came the garter belt and stockings. Last came the dress itself. Once everything was on and in adjusted in the manner that satisfied, she saw to it that her dark curls were as perfect a picture as the rest of her. Ringlets hung loose about her slim shoulders, her face angelic as ever. She accented everything with some well chosen jewelry and immediately set out to visit the one and only person who seemed to appreciate a woman such as herself.

Nose in the air, Andie began to make her way toward Charles' mobile prison. As she walked along, she felt something odd up near her shoulder. It was as if something had come loose, was falling. She glanced to the side just a bit, trying to be discreet, and noticed the strap to her corset was falling ever so slightly. Immediately, her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a small sigh. Her tummy tightened and she wished she could just push the strap up. Oh, if only she'd thought to adjust the straps before hand! She'd been in such a hurry, she'd forgotten! And this was the price to be paid! Not having any choice but to press on, she continued to walk onward, her thoughts being that no one would notice her current predicament.
 
In the area of which we speak, and around the time our story takes place, there existed a number of villages that were, technically, part of the nation of Amerika, and yet where no lawful writ ran. Untroubled by legislation, taxation or military draft, these settlements enjoyed a precarious independence, sacrificing the joys of refinement and the benefits of civilization for the abstract but appreciated joys of freedom and self-determination.

The descendents of dirt-poor farmers, driven westwards by drought, collapsing markets, and the confiscation of their original lands by the Amerikan government, these people had lived for over a century in splendid isolation, scratching out a living by farming, hunting and the brewing of moonshine spirits so strong that (legend had it) they need be kept in specially lined clay jugs, lest the brew eat through the material of lesser vessels, and thus be wasted, which (in their creed, an atavistic mix of Old Testament Judao/Christianity and many things far darker) was perhaps the only sin actually regarded as mortal!

Most of the inhabitants of the interlocked clans that dwelt within these villages had, indeed, no idea that the nation of Amerika actually existed. They had a vague idea that there was a world outside their own villages, beyond the mountains, for from where else would traders come, who traded metal goods such as farming tools, weaponry and machines for the hooch, tobacco and crops grown on the farms? If asked, they would probably have given some vague answer indicating that the entire world was, perhaps, ten times the size of the land they knew. The idea that there might be oceans, other continents, massive cities and computers, never mind the concept that each star they saw was a sun like the one with which they were familiar, would have been laughed to scorn.

They were not, however, to be despised totally as failures, a mere evolutionary experiment that had gone awry. Indeed, over the decades, they had adapted to their environment as well as any other sub-species, and better than most. They could have given lessons to more fortunate producers in their ability to draw a living from the all but barren soil they farmed, with implements that any other people would have despised as primitive. Though few of them could read, they had a long oral tradition, with the hyper-developed memories that such people usually develop, and any one of them could, without thought, tell exactly who in their settlement was related to whom, and at how many degrees of separation.

And, perhaps most important of all, their hunting skills were without parallel. The clumsiest among them could stalk absolutely silently through dried scrubland, bring down any running animal with a single shot, and skin and dress their kill with a faculty that would have had any east Coast butcher begging to employ them.

And it was this skill they were currently utilizing.

The members of the clans (they had no name by which they called themselves - for to whom would they use such a title?) did not take kindly to trespass. A single traveler, perhaps a family, might be tolerated to pass through their home range, especially if they had goods to trade. But a huge army (for, to the clans, who had no conception of nations and empires, the single detachment of the 7th was such)... this was beyond anything they could tolerate. For such a body of men, only two ends were acceptable. Either they should be incorporated into the clans (for they were not entirely ignorant of the dangers of incest - there had been too many indescribable monsters born over the years for this not to have been investigated) as new blood, or they should be sent to a better world beyond the reach of this one.

Therefore, for some days, they had been stalking the body of men, carefully sizing up their strength, the weapons carried, their weaknesses and habits. The clans now knew exactly at what time the guard was to be changed, and that they were at their most vigilant during the night. In fact, they had already decided that shortly after dawn, when the invaders relaxed their vigilance and were feeding their faces on breakfast, was the most propitious time for attack.

Accordingly, and unsuspected by their victims, a body comprising most of the able-bodied men and half of the women (a small guard was left back at the main village for eventualities, for even such a primitive army knows the value of a reserve) had ringed themselves around the camp, their weapons at the ready. Jebidiah, their Patriarch, had given strict instructions - every man was to be given a chance to surrender, but only one. Anyone who chose an honorable death rather than ignominious surrender was to be given their wish, as generously as possible. Those who surrendered were to be preserved, and given...

...the chance of a new existence, a valued place within the colony. For blood, after all, was all, and hybrid vigor was not to be despised. They didn't want any more critters like that one that had been born to Josiah McKenzie and his wife Sairie - face in its stomach, no legs, a shapeless blob of skin providing its one vestigial arm. Such things had happened all too often over living memory. Marry up with your cousin, by all means, if you had to, but when the kids from one brother and sister married those of another... better to strangle the result with its own chord than suffer it to live.

They needed new blood. And hoped, therefore, at least a few of the invaders would surrender!
 
The sun had only just begun to rise overhead as Andie peeked out from her tent and began making the long journey to where Charles' mobile prison had been stationed for the night. Much like every night since she'd left the safety and security of Chicago—the familiar, the luxury, all of it—behind, she'd had a most horrific time in finding sleep each time night fell. It couldn't be helped as she traipsed the Ozarks with people she didn't know, men with less dignity and honor than the lowest scoundrel who darkened the doorsteps of the most wretched pubs. The men who were strewn about her and meant to protect and care for her... she hardly trusted them. None of them had any idea on how a lady of her caliber was to be treated. None of them had any appreciation for quality when they saw it. No. She had more than mild disdain for them all.

Well, nearly all.

Andie had to admit that the man she was going to visit—and check on as per her duty as an Amerikan diplomat journeying to Annesland—was probably one of, if not the only, exception of all accompanying her within the entirety of the convoy. Oh, he was abominable in so many ways, forget the fact that he was actually a criminal and thus not actually a member of the convoy itself, but someone they were merely bringing along as a means to ensure things went well at the peace talks. Of course, her father had assured her that it wasn't overly necessary, that her charms and natural way with people would indeed be enough. However, handing over someone by the likes of Mr. Charles McAuley would sweeten their position, give them the upper hand and thus the power.

Oh politics. It was always about one's social standing, who held power...

Honestly, it all bored Andie greatly. Though, as the daughter of the president it was her place and station to endure such things. And, as a lady intended for impeccable breeding—she suddenly felt her lip curl into a slight sneer as an image of herself and Harry popped into her mind, her tummy tightening in a way that made it feel sour—it forever would be. Forever. Such a long time to endure... Endure. Did she really have to settle? Wasn't she worth more than that? After all, she was Miss Andromeda Elizabeth Schaeffer Hammond! Didn't that mean something? Didn't that mean she deserved the best? And, wasn't she renowned within her circles for being able to determine 'the best'? Everyone complimented her tastes time and time again, came to her for advice, sought out her opinion whenever it came to matters of such things.

The more and more Andie let her mind drift, thinking and mulling over such interesting notions as she made her way to Charles mobile prison, the more her sneer started to fade and become replaced by a tiny smile. As she walked the path that led to her final destination, she allowed her mind the freedom to follow where it may, defying the social norms that would surely make a point to every man in the 7th. A haughty grin took over as continued walking. Such a benefit that her fine tastes also taught such drivel a lesson in manner and gentility!

Andie's red silk gown swished as she walked, the bodice hugging her curves perfectly. Truly, she was a vision of pure femininity. As the sun's dawning rays shone down, pink streaks began to give way to pale blue. She could see Charles' prison up ahead, though as she walked, she could feel an odd sensation about her upper arm. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed the cause of her sudden worry—the strap on her corset. It had decided to slip once again. Silently, she cursed herself for rushing when dressing herself, which only caused her cheeks to flush, her dark eyes to well with tears. How could she face Charles' now? The strap had slipped so far that it was starting to show! Surely, he would see it! Surely, she would be an embarrassment of the worst sort!

And why was this mattering?

Scowling, Andie's cheeks flushed more, growing hotter as she rounded the corner to face Charles' new 'home'. Her dark eyes flicked to the side and she glanced at her shoulder. Instantly, a wave of flutters rose in her tummy. Oh, he'd notice and think her silly or worse! But, she had to pretend otherwise. It was the proper thing to do until she had a moment to adjust. If only... if only...

"Good morning, Mr. McAuley," Andie said sweetly, curtsying low, trying to ignore the others about her and oblivious to everything else. "I trust you slept well?" Peering up at Charles through her lashes, she smiled as she slowly stood up, her cheeks matching the color of her gown.
 
Galvie felt his heart give a little leap when he saw the figure approaching. Miss Hammond had chosen a bright red gown today, one that left her slender, white arms provocatively bare, a garment that even more than the others in which he had seen her was more suited for a drawing room in Chicago that hard traveling through one of the wildest regions of the Nation of Amerika. The way she walked on her high-heeled shoes, carefully avoiding difficult ground made her look particularly helpless. Much of her attraction, he thought (for, by now, he had been forced to surrender to the inevitable and admit that, yes, he was very much attracted to her) was that mix of haughtiness and weakness. She was at once (by virtue of her breeding and connections) so powerful, yet at the same time, thanks to her frailty and innocence, so helpless.

He gave an ironic, inward smile. Had she but known it, she was taking an even greater risk than she, or any of the soldiers of the 7th, knew. Through the night, giving thanks to the lack of a moon, he had worked stealthily at the lock of his prison, finally managing to spring it just before dawn. He had then carefully shut it with the lock sprung, and tied it shut with some pieces of straw, so that it would not fall open and reveal the fact that he was no longer confined.

In fact - and here was an even greater irony - his actions had not been in order to endanger Miss Hammond, but quite the opposite. Who or what might be stalking the party he had no idea, but it had occurred to him that the 7th Cavalry, smart and efficient as they might have looked on parade, might have been better suited to romantic charges over open ground against an enemy playing by the rules than in taking on a body of people able to move silently through scrub, on ground with which they were familiar.

Should no attack come - or should it come and be defeated by the 7th - all well and good. If he could escape during the hue and cry, fine, if such chance did not present itself he'd stay put, relock the door, and wait for a more propitious chance.

And, in the meantime, to beguile his time of waiting, here was the beauteous Miss Hammond, exactly on time. He resolved to drink his fill of her, as much as he could, for, perhaps, he would not see her again.

"Sleep well?" he repeated, then, realizing that his bleary-eyed appearance would give the lie to any affirmative answer, "I fear not, Ma'am. Not, I hasten to add, through any negligence of those under your command. Rather I was brooding upon my sins, and regretting them. Possibly my fate, too."

He wondered why she was blushing. With any other woman, he would have had no doubt as to the cause. But this was, after all, the daughter of the president, and therefore one of the most powerful women in Amerika. And one betrothed to another, into the bargain. The idea that, defeated, imprisoned and ungroomed as he was, she should have any affection for him beyond that of duty was one he did not feel would stand scrutiny.

As she came closer, a possible explanation for her erubescism became obvious. The smooth whiteness of one of her arms was marred by a strip of shiny black nylon. Obviously, a shoulder strap head let her down and peeked out for a glimpse at the outside world that it was not meant, under the rules of decent dressing, to behold. Either Miss Hammond, mindful of the awkward incident with her corset the day before yesterday had elected, today, for the more modern type that combines the duties of a brassiere with corsetry, or it was a separate bra - either way, even Galvie knew, such support should remain discreetly hidden.

Nor was the resource available to most women - simply to reposition it to its correct place - available to her. A woman from a lower reach of society - a shop girl, a governess, a housewife - might simply, perhaps with an exasperated expression, push the errant lingerie strap back into her dress. But for a woman in Miss Hammond's position, he knew, this was unthinkable. To do so would not only draw attention to her situation, but also violate the unwritten rule that a lady should not only appear perfect at all times, but that this perfection should come without effort. To be seen adjusting attire in public would violate this canon, and this, he knew, was a thing poor Miss Hammond could not consider.

Her only course of action, he knew, was to regard the slipping strap as a large elephant in a small room and ignore it, as if, by a kind of sympathetic magic, her refusing to acknowledge it would make it disappear. But the amused looks that the troopers of the 7th were giving her, Galvie could see that this tactic had not been efficacious.

Every ounce of his being craved to reach his hands through the bars and gently replace the strap, while giving her a reassuring smile. In much the same way that, according to legend, much as his countryman Edward III in the 14th century had once adjusted the slipping garter of an embarrassed female courtier, and thus founded a knightly order that still existed to the present day. "Shame be to he that thinks evil," indeed!

And so, as he bent his entire attention on her face, deliberately so as to not notice (pr at least pretend to this) her shoulder strap, he felt his ears pick up sounds of alarum and excursion within the camp, the blowing of a bugle and, he half fancied, the sharp retort of guns that were not the carbines issued to the cavalry but shotguns. Whatever happening, though was obviously at the far end of the camp, but enough to make him tense his muscles and mind, preparing for who knew what.

Neither Miss Hammond, nor the small knot of troopers that provided her personal guard, had picked up the sounds as yet. Galvie decided to possess himself with such patience as he could, and await developments.
 
The heat that had risen to Andie's cheeks began to grow. It swept down along her slender neck, fanning out across her chest and even over the swells of her breasts as they were so perfectly lifted by the corset she wore. Charles' words only added to the predicament she'd suddenly found herself to be in—thanks to the dreaded corset and its strap. A strap she'd thought would help keep it in place no less! But the very fact that he regretted his past, that he seemed to be dwelling on his future... No doubt it meant that he wished he could change what was and what would soon come to pass. She was certain of it, the ideas and notions swirling through her mind preoccupied both with her dilemma and with Charles McAuley.

Just then, Andie felt her heart skip a beat, her breath suddenly hitching in her throat—the strap that was showing all but forgotten for the time being—as her dark eyes lingered upon Charles for several long moments. A nervous yet thrilling flutter began to form deep within the pit of her tummy and with it she could feel this strange burn. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before and the overwhelming sensations only made her cheeks flush more.

Trying to keep her composure and trying her best to ignore the offending strap, Andie just donned the smile that had been gracing her lips since the moment she'd arrived. Her eyes stared directly into Charles and she moved closer to his prison. She tilted her head slightly, a hand moving upward as if to reach for one of the bars. Very nearly, she touched one, but then thought better of it. Instead, she flicked a dark curly tendril over a shoulder.

"Perhaps some fortune will smile upon you, Mr. McAuley," Andie began. "Because you are taking the time to dwell upon such things." Her eyes lowered slightly, averting as she looked to the ground. "Fate tends to be merciful, at least in part, to those deserving of her gratitude. Maybe she will see better use for you than what had originally been planned."

Of course, Andie wasn't sure what those of Annesland had in mind for Charles other than having him serve sentence for treason. And that usually meant the one who served was killed in the end. Oh, it was just so unfair! Such a waste! The man had manner, understood the way of aristocracy and class. He even put the 7th in their place, not to mention put Harry to shame! Perhaps fate had gotten it all wrong? It had happened before, hadn't it?

As Andie mulled and pondered, her heart began to sink. Her thoughts were muddled and her eyes were beginning to dampen with tears. Truly she was in the worst kind of predicament, one she'd yet to find herself in before and one a lady of her kind surely was never meant to be in. But there she was, fretting and beside herself, her body tensed and knotted as she tried to sort things out and come to grips with the onslaught of everything suddenly assaulting her.

The longer she thought, the quieter things became, the silence near deafening. Andie thought she might scream, stamp her foot and throw a tantrum at how unfair life truly was. Though, really, wasn't she in a position where she had the power to have some say? Some...? Inwardly huffing, she found herself uncertain. Inwardly huffing she suddenly began to notice the men of the 7th who'd been looking on with great interest were starting to mill about, their interest starting to turn elsewhere.

Odd. What in Providence's name could be more entertaining than her? Andie truly wondered. After all, she'd filled their entertainment schedule both daily and nightly, it seemed. Sighing, giving off an air of boredom, she turned to look at the soldiers, gesturing in distaste toward the few that had suddenly taken it upon themselves to leave their post and guard.

"I wonder why they have left..." Andie mumbled, her words audible, though clearly spoken to Charles. A tiny frown played on her lips as she turned to face him, a look of worry suddenly washing over her as her nervousness began to grow.
 
At Miss Hammond's statement, Galvie gave a wry smile.

"I thank you for your attempt at comfort, Ma'am," he replied, "but alas - I fear not. It's my experience that Fate and Chance are blind forces, and outside of fiction, have no interest in poetic justice. Nature doesn't give a - (he had been about to use a phrase suggesting airborne copulation, but remembered the company he was keeping and corrected himself hurriedly) - a damn about who deserves what. There's no reward or punishment, simply consequences. I put my trust in your nation, taking it at its word, that it stood to protect the oppressed, and now I'm facing the consequences of my naivety."

He allowed his eyes to stare into the distance, seeking some clue as to what the disturbance was about. As if giving the lie to the philosophical statement he had just made, he found himself grateful for the fact that Miss Hammond's corset-strap had chosen that precise moment to misbehave. It gave him a perfect excuse to look away from her, under the guise of gentlemanly discretion.

What he saw gave him just enough of a clue to become worried indeed. He saw men of the 7th leap to horse, snatching up carbines. The evidence of his ears added to his apprehension, for the bugle calls that had been so faint were now loud and close. It seemed the entire camp were being called to action. The gunshots were louder, too, the crack of carbines adding their contribution to the shotgun blasts.

And, almost immediately, the situation began to escalate. The shouts of excited men were battling with the higher-pitched screams of females whooping in triumph. A trooper, bleeding from the arm, staggered into view, holding a broken sword.

"Damn it to hell, we're under attack," he bellowed. "Some ferals from fuck knows where, come outta nowhere. Armed to their rotting teeth, too, men and women and some weird things that could be either! Colonel's dead, and half our men are down." He wrestled his carbine from his shoulder, wincing at the pain. "I'm out of ammo, too, if anyone can oblige."

"Dang, Will Berrigan, what's gotten into yer?" shouted one of Miss Hammond's personal guard. "How the blazes can we be under attack. Just where's the enemy gonna come from, out here in the boondocks. There's no injuns within a day's march, and we ain't at war with the Annies, last I heard. Wha- ?"

But these were his final words, for his jaw dropped, and he clutched his bulging stomach, looking down in amazement at the blood spurting from his body.

It was just a second or so later that a group of raggedly dressed men and women ran into view, whooping some kind of war cry in a tongue familiar, yet only half intelligible. More shotguns cracked, and another trooper fell. The men of the 7th formed a ragged ring around Miss Hammond, firing their carbines at the newcomers.

Meanwhile the fight spilled closer, like a patch of spilled ink gradually colonizing a white tablecloth. Soon there was a packed mass of conflict, troopers both horsed and on foot, invaders on stolen mounts or running amok. Another of the troopers around Miss Hammond fell, and then, at a screamed "charge" the nearest of the invaders ran towards her.

Galvie kicked open the door of his cage and ran towards this struggle. Dust kicked around his feet as bullets were aimed at him, but he took no notice. A ragged man, with a long, tobacco-stained beard, dressed in buckskin and patched cloth barred his way, a shotgun leveled. The man opened his mouth to give warning, and in that same split-second Galvie had launched himself through the air and tackled the invader, the two of them going down in a tangle of arms and legs. Galvie kneed the man in the crotch, then swung his fist, feeling satisfaction as he felt the cartridge of the man's nose break under his ministrations. The man dropped his weapon, howling, and Galvie snatched it up, but before he could even gain his feet two more men were upon him.

He lashed out, using the stock of the shotgun as a club, sending them both flying, and then kicking out, connecting with the stomach of yet another man who had joined the melee. He lifted his stolen weapon and blazed off, at another group of men and women who were charging towards him. He winced, as a piece of shot grazed his leg, and collapsed, feeling the pain shoot through him, and then the group - four of five of them - were on him, attempting to restrain him, and raining blows upon him. He lashed out with fists and boots, knocking one of the men out and sending another sprawling, but there were too many.

"Nid halp heah!" he heard one of the men scream. "This'n's so tough heah mart be a rattler! Jehosophat, Ellie, Silas, get your'n carc'sses ovah heah, ya hear me?"

Galvie struggled, but one man, no matter how lean and tough, was no match for the eight or so enemies that were attacking him. He looked up and caught sight of Miss Hammond, restrained by two of the attackers, both female, both clad in torn jeans and check shirts, with shotguns swung around their bodies. She looked frightened and indignant at the same time. One of the women was twanging her slipped corset-strap, an expression of amusement on her face!

The sight of her being restrained added strength to Galvie, and two more of the attackers went down, one with a bleeding nose, the other clutching his eyes, the result of a well-directed clawing. But then Galvie had no more limbs free, both arms and legs being restrained, and another of the attackers was thumping at his stomach. He tensed his strong muscles, taking a blow that would have doubled up most men, and was amused by the look of amazement on the man delivering the blow.

But that was the last triumph he was to enjoy. The next he knew was flashing stars, and a sharp pain. And then, blackness, and nothing.

*****

Galvie's first thought upon awakening was that whoever had clocked him from behind knew their stuff. The blow must have been delivered at the perfect spot to knock him out, yet he remembered everything, no trace of concussion. Apart from a slight headache, that was to be expected, he seemed to have suffered no damage. There was even an argument, he grimly concluded, that the attackers had done him a favor. Before the attack he'd been in a cage, now at least, though hogtied (and a swift examination proved that the tying had been done by someone who knew their business) he was at least in the open air. He;d swapped bars for string. Furthermore, the fact that he was still alive showed that the attackers had no immediate plans to kill him, or they would have done so by now. Around him were various troopers from the 7th, similarly trussed.

He pretended to still be unconscious, keeping his eyes shut and listening to the noises around him, shutting out the puzzled exclamations of the captured troopers, listening instead to the attackers as they spoke amongst themselves - and gleaning much useful knowledge by so doing.

"What they got planned for us?" asked one of the troopers? "They planning on torturing us, or what?"

"I doubt it," Galvie said, coming out of his faked trance. "From what I hear these are mountain folk - what you call 'Hillbillies' - they were happy to steal your horses and supplies, but it's us they want, really."

"Yeah?" asked another trooper. "For what? They fixing on cooking and eating us, or what?"

"And how do you know, anyway?" asked another. "These animals friends of yours, or what?"

"The biggest problem these isolated people face," Galvie explained, answering the first question, and giving the second the contempt it deserved - had the speaker not noticed he was tied as tightly as any of them - "is keeping their bloodlines healthy. They go on marrying each other long enough, they end up with a race of half-apes. They're after new blood, gentlemen. From what I'm picking up, they plan on marrying their daughters off to us."

At this there were loud exclamations. Many of the troopers - those with wives or sweethearts back home - expressed disgust. Others, those who had no-one to miss them, or even (in at least two cases) those that, Galvie had learned from ribald camp gossip, had never known the touch of a woman - appeared to be taking the situation with equanimity. It was obvious that under their patched and ragged clothing, many the suntanned, fit girls had bodies that would delight any man, and gave hints that they would make up for any lack of sophistication with enthusiasm and endurance!

"Did anyone see what happened to Miss Hammond?" he asked, hearing his voice crack with apprehension.

"Nah. She got carried off somewhere," one of the virgin troopers told him. "Say, you think we get to choose our wives. That blond with the big - "

At Galvie's look, he swallowed his words hastily.
 
Andie didn't have much time to ponder the notion nor respond to Charles' comments. The noises were growing louder and the restlessness of the soldiers was becoming that of agitation. Clearly, something was amiss and it was beginning to bother her more than the fact that she'd forgotten to tighten her strap thus causing the thing to stray from its intended location upon her shoulder, hidden from scrutiny and the eyes of any and all she might come across. Even in the backwoods wilds of the Ozarks, she planned on looking her best. And on this day in particular, she'd wanted to look especially exquisite. If only she hadn't neglected a fine detail such as a corset strap so as to increase her time out and about! It was a silly thing to have done and now the price was being paid and she was the one to suffer.

Fortunately, Charles looked away as the scuffles up the way grew louder. Andie wondered what the commotion was about. Perhaps the soldiers were taking bets, fighting amongst themselves? Men often times did that when they had nothing better to do, didn't they? Especially those with such unpleasant manners as those of the 7th had shown. She could only hope that they resolved their quarreling sooner than later. They were a convoy to Annesland after all, not a bumbling carnival of halfwits! And she was their ambassador, their leader, the one who would bring hope and peace between the two sister nations! Truly, these men could learn from her example!

And from Charles'. Yes, he'd done his fair share of proving his worth despite his criminal charges. Andie sighed inwardly, her dark eyes glancing his way. He stared off in another direction, so she seized the opportunity to glance at her shoulder, the strap having fallen down her arm. She frowned as she bit down on her lip and frantically pushed the strap back into place. Oh, if only she'd had the means to tighten it!

Just then, there was a crack of gunshots and Andie let out a tiny shriek. Her cheeks, reddened from embarrassment, suddenly went pale as the blood rushed from her face leaving her to turn a ghostly pallor. Swallowing hard, she was unsure if she should scream, run or just plain hide. None of them seemed like very good options and what was more, it meant leaving Charles behind to an uncertain fate and, though she knew it shouldn't, the very thought of such a thing didn't sit well. For some reason being near him set her at ease while the idea of being far made her blood run cold. So, as fear set in along with the reality of what was happening—they had indeed fallen under attack—her body froze, her heart pumping hard as she gasped for air against the corset that squeezed at her tiny body, restricting not just her movement, but her lungs from gaining the precious gulps of air they were so desperately craving.

The next several moments were a blur as everything happened so quickly, though she was quick to notice Charles spring forth from the confinement of his 'cage'. But, rather than leave, he showed honor and valor, protecting her and the others by fighting the battle that they suddenly found themselves amidst. How her heart pounded to witness such actions as he fought, did his best—better than all the others—it truly said so much about his character. But, before Andie knew it, the entire group had been overrun by what appeared to be unkempt and uncivilized people she could barely understand. They seemed to be speaking English, but she could only grasp every other word. To her ears, it sounded like they were speaking with marbles in their mouths, their words garbled and lost as the bizarre twang resonated in all its dissonance in her ears. Tears streamed down her face as the girls giggled and teased, their hands playing at her dress and snapping crudely at her corset strap, which had once again managed to find its way down her arm.

Oh the mortification of it all! Had these people no decency?! No sense of moral?!
Tears rolled down Andie's cheeks as she watched the people drag off those they'd captured... one by one. And, unfortunately, Charles was one of them. However, at least it meant he was still alive.

"Mr. McAuley!" Andie shouted out as she watched them drag him past. She was frightened and felt so very alone. More than anything, she found herself longing for Charles to wake up from his injury as she called out to him. A silly notion, she knew. But, she couldn't help it. As the girls held onto her arms and she glanced over at the men who now had taken over everything, one of them slowly approaching, more than anything she wished Charles was standing by her side.

~~~

Andie sat in a chair, her mouth gagged and her wrists bound behind her. One of the men—tall, sandy blond—looked down upon her with a menacing gaze. He was more than annoyed, though she couldn't fault him she supposed. However, she was in her right to speak and lash out at his indecency! How dare they whisk her away from her people, hindering an important mission that so many people were depending on and all for the sake of... marriage? He had to be joking! This was a farce! A nightmare to top her worst! Who did they think she was? Some common piece of trash? She was the president's daughter and a diplomat for the nation of Amerika! Were they clueless as to the peace talks that were ready to occur in New Orleans in Annesland? Or was marriage and unmentionables all that mattered to these people?

From what it seemed so far, Andie had to assume the latter. This man who'd been with her for what seemed to be an eternity only seemed to care about two things—marriage and procreation. And when it came to the procreation, he didn't hold back on his ideas on how to create his heirs! Her cheeks had been on fire as she'd lashed out and whined about his rudeness, her hand suddenly having a mind of its own as it slapped him, hard, across the face. He'd been shocked at her actions—the actions of a woman! And now... there she sat. Bound and gagged.

After several long moments of silence, Andie just stared at the man standing before her. His smirk terrifying as he seemed to loom ominously as he paced back and forth like a predator determining his next move. Already, he had her at his mercy, claimed to have her future determined for her. What more could he possibly want? The very thought of what was in store caused her dark eyes to sting, pricking with tears that suddenly began to fall along her pale cheeks. As she began to openly cry—mortified that she couldn't go somewhere so she could be discreet—she wished she'd never gone on this trip. But... but then it would've meant...

Looking at the man through water eyes, Andie tried to talk through her gag, though clearly her voice was muffled. The sandy haired man rolled his eyes and mumbled before finally settling on removing her gag.

"Where is Mr. McAuley? I wish to see him. I wish to see him straight away," Andie demanded loudly through sobs, the tears still spilling down her cheeks.
 
"Wahl, Cletus, did you ever gairt lucky?" laughed Red Turkington, slapping his friend on the back. "Only one li'l gal outta all thairm soljers, an' you drew the long straw. You gonna be marryin' up outside the clan, an' have you a lot of healthy sprogs, if this lil black duck's any judge!"

"Ain't as sure-fire lucky as alla that," snapped Cletus Pandy. "Ah tell ya, Red, ain' lucky as all, s'far as I see it."

"Oh yeah?" asked Red. "So why's thart then? Seems to me that winning the gal, when there's but one, is 'bout as lucky as a man can git. 'sakes, what else yah want? A gold pecker and an extra set of arms besides?"

"Yeah, an what'd you know," spat Cletus. "As if her bein' a shy virgin, who I don' think evah heard of the procree-ash-io-nal act, nevah mind knowin' how to please a man ain't enough -"

"Ah, hogwash. A gal can be teached that, if'n a man knows what he's about."

"Not this'n. She so frigid ah swear she got icy-cackles a-growin' outta her catsack, ah kid ya not. Cairn't evan be a-touchin' of her without her havin' the vapors. Jus' goes all red, a-like she was ten year old. An' talks funny, too, in a kinda high-fellewtin' voice, a-like she ware too good fer the groun' she walks on. Hadda keep her hogtied, hopin' she'll come to her mind, which don't bode well fer a happy marryin'-up, leastways that's how I sees it."

"Ah, don' fret, Cleet. Lotsa young gals are themways, 'speshully outside the clan."

"Yeah, an' if that ain't enough, she has delusionals, too. Guess what she's a-sayin' to me. Just guess."

"How in blazes I gonna guess, Cleet, since I waren't there?"

"Yeah, well, only says she's the daughter of the President, don;t she?"

"What's a president then, Cleet?"

"Like you know Jed's our Mainfather, or the head injun's a "chief," yah? Well, seems 'president' means head of a whole country, like with millions of people. Nevah heard of such. Why, I bet there ain't no more'n twenty thousand in the whole world. And as if that wairn't enough - get this, Red. Even if she weren't noshunal, an' a backward virgin' ter boot, I cairn;t marry her, not noway! "

"Yeah? How's that then?"

"Wahl, she at least tol' me her name."

"So?"

"It's Andy."

"So she got a boy's name? Cleet, that may be silly as a possum with flippers, but ah cairn't see how it makes any difference."

"So what's mah name?"

"Huh? Your name. Wahl, it's Cleet, ain't it? Cleetus. Cleetus P - uh oh!"

"Yeah, dam' it ter hell an' halfway back. How the blue blazes can I walk 'round with a wife named 'Andie Pandy." you tell me that, huh?"

*****

If his mind hadn't been occupied with a greater stress, Galvie might have been enjoying himself immensely. After all, he was free from his captivity, and though for the present he was still tied up it was fast becoming obvious that this state of affairs would not continue indefinitely. In any case, unlike the 7th Cavalry, these strange folk were not planning to deliver him up like a gift to a firing squad. Dr Johnson had once said that knowing one was to be hanged concentrated the mind wonderfully. Galvie would have been able add that knowing one was not going to be hanged, shot or otherwise disposed of also had much to recommend it! He was fast getting used to the smell that seemed to cling to his captors - the subtle stench of hogs, hay, sweat and alcohol - and of the gaggle of women who seemed to be forever popping in to the barn where he and the men of the 7th were imprisoned, many had obviously shown an especial interest in him. Attractive girls, with large breasts, that they only just managed to hide with blouses knotted at the waist, or by wearing tight jeans or dresses, and who showed evident promise of enthusiasm and skill when bedded. Being held "captive" as the wife of such a woman was already a vast improvement on a blindfold, a last cigarette and the sharp crack of ten rifles being the last thing one heard in this universe. It was obvious that the "captivity" was an easy one for the clan to enforce. Few of their prisoners would want to escape, after seeing the fate in store for them!

But for Charles, other considerations blotted out any inclination to celebrate. The thought of Miss Andromeda Hammond, held captive somewhere, and possibly suffering some nameless fate. And he was bending every ounce of his reasoning powers to try and find a way to rescue her and get her to safety. But as to how this was to be achieved, he could find no solution.
 
It was unnerving the way these people acted, speaking in their garbled way and pacing in a manner that seemed certain to intimidate. Though perhaps it was more a matter of that was just how one needed to move when living in such country, Andie honestly couldn't be sure. Regardless, it didn't set well and it only made her muscles tighten as the ropes rubbed against the soft flesh of her wrists restrained behind her back. As she watched the men banter and babble, she wondered if either would ever grant her the request she'd insisted upon. Given the way they'd ignored her—almost as if on purpose, perhaps they were trying to frighten her... how they succeeded there—she didn't think they would. As it was, she'd already angered and annoyed the one called Cletus enough that he'd felt compelled enough to bind her wrists and gag her!

What a way to treat a future wife! WIFE? Oh the very thought made the bile rise in Andie's throat. Panic setting in, she bit down on her lip, the cleave gag that had been used to stay her mouth hung loosely about her slender neck, her dark tresses cascading in mussed curls along her slim shoulders and down her back.

"Sirs," Andie began again, the tears still welling in her dark eyes as she looked from man to man, her heart pumping hard, her breaths coming short.

If there was ever a time that Andie wished she could loosen her corset—in fact, she almost wished she could remove the garment entirely, but such a thing was so unthinkable she practically blushed as the thought broached her mind—the moment she found herself in was the perfect one. Breathing had suddenly become so difficult, so labored, that she honestly thought she might very well faint as she tried to desperately gasp for precious life-giving air. Her mind began to swirl as thoughts of her past began and then images of all the possible 'what could bes' began to swarm and overwhelm.

Andie could certainly see a future of herself with Harry Smythe. That future her beloved father had chosen for her, one that was a smart match that took advantage of bloodlines and upbringing. Oh, they'd be the talk of Chicago, Amerika's most adored couple! But, why did such a future seem so revolting to her as she found herself panicking?

As tears streamed down Andie's porcelain pale cheeks, she knew whom she wanted to see. Perhaps it was because she knew he was there, somewhere! Her hands longed to reach each other so that they could idly fidget or reach for one of many dark curls so as to give it a nervous twist. But as she tried to move them, the rope just bit into her flesh causing her to let out a tiny hiss, followed by a soft mewling whimper. Her tears flowed harder as her thoughts settled on Charles. Oh how she wanted him there. Not Harry... but him.

"Where is Mr. McAuley? Please..." Andie's eyes pleaded that the men listen. "I implore that you heed my request. I wish to see him." She could only hope that they'd stop their bickering and other talk long enough to actually pay her any mind. She wasn't used to being ignored, even by people such as these seemed to be. "Please, take me to him. Or... bring him here to me?" She bit down on her lip, unsure that they'd care and a bit fearful that the cleave would be placed back in her mouth once again. But she was afraid and, more than anything, she needed to be with Charles, needed to know he was still alive. Seeing him would bring her hope. Somehow, she knew it would.
 
At one stage, Virgie-Sue Haworth had thought her life was mapped out perfectly to her own satisfaction. Did not Billy-Bob Reynolds' family own several acres down at the South end of the settlement? And didn't Billy-Bob himself have a pretty twinkle in his eye? And by doing the right and proper thing, and waiting (for her fingers and the occasional corncob, surely, didn't count) she'd kept herself pure and pristine, taking her to the head of the lists for his affections. She just knew Rachel-Jean Comstock and Marnie Biggs were regretting their own impatience now. Oh, Virgie-Sue had been tempted enough, at the last Corn-Dolly Barn Dance, but Billy-Bob wouldn't have respected her afterwards, she just knew it, so she'd done the right thing, though she almost hadn't.

So, yes, the rest of her existence was already planned, from now, a few days after her 16th birthday, to old age. Lots of children, and Billy-Bob sitting on the porch taking his ease, smoking his pipe, drinking his liquor. Or, at least, her existence had been planned. Now? Now, she was not so sure.

Everything had changed when they'd gone on that raid against those trespassers, bringing them in by the rope. She'd been on the raid herself, first one Pappy had ever let her go on, and she'd loved every minute of it, riding alongside Billy-Bob and all. There was nothing in it for her, of course. She already had her man. But it had been fun. Until they'd brought in that strange one. The tall, lean one who seemed to know their language (which was rare as rooster teeth for an outlander) and looked out so confidently through those dreamy eyes of his. Now, all of a sudden, Billy-Bob, with his rough ways and smelly feet and habit of farting at table didn't seem the crown of manhood any more. She'd fought it, of course, tried not to think of the strange man, but some evil spirit had forced her to go with the other unmarried girls, in a giggling, hesitant bunch. And at her first sight of the stranger, her heart had done a backflip.

She knew that it was unfair to Billy-Bob, for they were more or less promised to each other. Even hinting how the stranger made her feel all weak at the knees would break Billy-Bob's heart. But she couldn't help it. They'd all been there, all the free girls. Moony Jackson, Peggy-Barb Hoolihan, Jeannie Roche, Wanda Starr, Damson Knight, Tula Headland, Clover Fricker, two or three others. All in their best (and tightest, and shortest) dresses. And they'd all giggled and blushed and talked dirty (or as dirty as sixteen year old virgins could, anyhow) but... and this was what was causing Virgie-Sue some disquiet... none of the girls had giggled and blushed as much as her when she'd looked at the stranger. Charles McCauley, his name was, supposedly. Virgie-Sue had found herself plucking at her dress, squirming, her face burning. And when, on the walk back, the other girls had started singing:

Charlie and Virgie, sittin' in a tree,
K-I-S-S-I-N-G

She'd blushed even harder, and had to run away down to the stream, her hands over her face, and plunge her head in it just to cool down! In the background, she'd heard the girls change the first four letters of line two of the chant, and this had made her blush even more!

Therefore, when the prissy, useless girl - the only one they'd picked up from the trespassers, which was strange in itself, and who was already promised to Cleet Pandy - the high-faulting one with her graces and airs, who seemed to have trouble breathing (maybe like Cindy-Lou Aitkins, who, Doc Tennant said, had some strange disease called Is Ma, or something, ever hear of any plague with such a stupid name?) - anyhow, when Virgie-Sue had taken Pappy's lunch out to the barn (Pappy was one of the guards set to watch the captives) and she'd heard this stupid woman say "McCauley," Virgie-Sue's ears had pricked up like a prairie dog in a storm.

So she waited until the other guard had gone for what he called a pizzle-leak (she wasn't supposed to know what that meant, but she did) and Pappy had gone for new supplies of liquor, and then sneaked back into the barn. The women was still panting and gasping, and mumbling about McCauley. And Virgie-Sue had to know. She just had to!

She removed the gag, allowing the new woman to speak freely.

"Now thain, if'n you set to a-screamin', if'n you even make a peep can be haird outsdie-a this erection haih, ah'm gonna make y'all wish you never been birthed, y'hear? But see, I'm a-fixin' ter know right. What's you to mah intended, Charles McCauley, 'cos ah'm fixin' to put maih name in the straw-poll to make him maihn, y'see? Is you his bee-trothed, or his wife, or his gal, or what? Have you an' him done the pleasure? I gotta know, see, 'cos it's a-gnarrin' my heart up an' I just gotta know."
 
Truly Andie was beside herself. Never had she felt so truly hopeless before in her entire life. These people were unlike any sorts she'd ever encountered before. They just refused to see reason or show any level of compassion to a lady such as herself! Had they realized she was the president's daughter, the man leading their great nation of Amerika, maybe they'd be a bit more respectful! But... perhaps they truly just didn't understand the ways of the world and the people in it? Though how they could live so isolated and shut out from everything both astounded and frightened her. For those who didn't know any better had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Such mindsets surely could not be good.

As a shiver ran along Andie's spine she suddenly felt an odd sensation up about her one shoulder. Oh, if things couldn't get worse! The strap of her corset had begun to fall down along her arm, the shimmery black exposing itself for all to see, a stark contrast against the paleness of her flesh. Already wracked with sobs, she twisted her head and allowed her dampened dark eyes to shift and settle where the strap had started to fall, making its way down her arm and making her more the vulnerable. No doubt these people would take advantage of that. It seemed to be their way.

The cleave tasted horrible and dry against Andie's tongue and she longed to spit it out. Trying to breathe, yet having difficulty, she looked away from the strap. There was no sense in staring at it. It would only call attention to the social faux pas and her dilemma—and oh, she had so many dilemmas, she scarcely knew what to do any longer... if only Charles was with her—and that was the last thing she needed. Again, her hands twitched, the ropes rubbing and burning as she moved. Whimpering, she felt hot tears roll down her cheeks.

It was useless. A new fate had been thrust at her. And one far worse than marrying Harry Smythe!

Just then, a door opened a young girl walked in. Andie immediately tried to compose herself, but to no avail. Sniffling and wishing she could wipe away her tears, her dark eyes blinked rapidly as the girl ranted and raved, her eyes flashing as she spoke in garbled tones. Finally, she pulled the cleave away, giving her mouth some relief. Unfortunately, it did nothing for her nerves or her fear. Nor did it do anything to quash the embarrassment she felt as the corset strap fell further down along her slender arm.

Wishing she could push at her dark curls, which had fallen slightly across her face, Andie swallowed. Her thoughts dwelled on the one man this fearsome girl seemed fixed upon, almost infatuated with. Infatuated? How could she be!? This girl hardly knew him! Knew nothing about him! How could she even remotely figure herself worthy when she pranced around as shamelessly as she was, spoke in an incomprehensible manner and treated her betters in such a lowly fashion! It was despicable! Surely, Charles would agree! His actions and words had shown and proven otherwise! However, at least her ravings did one thing... it proved that he was all right, that he was there, somewhere. She could only hope that he would somehow find her.

He would... wouldn't he? Oh, how Andie hoped he would!

As Andie looked at the angry girl, gag loosened once again so she could speak, she actually contemplated screaming for a moment. But truly, she was upset. She was uncomfortable, frightened and she longed for Charles to be with her... not this... girl who clearly had no self-respect and an inability to speak properly.

"Miss, I'm not sure who you think you are. Though I will tell you that you are addressing a lady. The president's daughter. Of your nation." Andie frowned, her wrists aching, her body sore and tired as she tried to breathe. "You and this, this... this rabble could be tried for treason for your insolent actions!" A tear rolled down her cheek. "As for Mr. McAuley..." her voice trailed as her thoughts turned to the one man she longed to have near. "We are respectable people! We are unmarried! We... we..." Her mouth began to tremble, opening and closing like a fish out of water gulping and sputtering for precious water it could intake and pass over its gills.

Andie's cheeks began to burn, growing hot as her thoughts turned to torrid actions that were typically unspeakable, things that a lady should never broach until after marriage and even then... there was a time and place and... Oh how her world was turning upside down in an instant, the threads of the fabric that had been so tightly weaved unraveling and unwinding before her very eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pick up the fraying strands nor could she recreate the pattern that once was.

Looking at the girl, Andie's dark eyes grew watery once again, her lower lip trembling. "Charles!" she shouted out, using Charles' first name as opposed to the formality society would expect from one such as her.
 
Galvie had lied and foxed his way out of many situations in his time, and flattered himself he knew exactly how to play it. Having some idea of how to express himself in this group helped, and over the last few hours he had been gradually ingratiating himself with the guards, dropping subtle hints that far from regarding himself as an unwilling captive, he was embracing his good fortune at falling among people with whom it would be a pleasure to spend the rest of his life. The beauty of it was that it didn't take much invention to make his story stick. Indeed, the truth served for most of the story. He simply made it plain that he had been a captive of the trespassers, and would far sooner be here in the colony than a prisoner of the men of the 7th. The suspicion with which the other captured soldiers regarded him had added plenty of verisimilitude to his narrative, and he'd further strengthened his position by making up to one of the hillbilly girls, a plump, bosomy female named Virgie-Sue, who he had instinctively picked had the hots for him! Many of his dropped hints had indicated he would have no objection at all to a union between her and him, which had served as a further point of understanding between him and the guards.

By careful questioning, he had wormed out just where Andromeda Hammond was, and that she was (like all of them) still a captive, awaiting a time when the people of the colony felt they could be trusted to assume full, free citizenship. The captives represented new blood and thus hope for the future, and though escape was difficult (the colony was surrounded by others, allied to them, and the description of a runaway would soon be all over the valley - and beyond the settlement was wilderness, in which no runner could hope to get far - nonetheless, the colony preferred willing citizens to those there under sufferance.

He was, therefore, biding his time until he might be granted further privilege, prepared to assume co-operation until the opportunity of escape presented itself.

*****

The phrase "I'm not sure who you think you are," was not so much insulting to Virgie-Sue as incomprehensible. The people of the colony were not given to existential speculation, and such a statement, if it were ever uttered at all, could only be taken as literal.

"Wahl, aih guess aih jes' about know who I am," she replied, after a second's thought in order to process the implied question. "Aih'm Virgie-Sue Haworth, tha's who aih am. Third born o' Sam and Eileeny Haworth. An' - " she topped hurriedly. She'd been about to say "An' Billy-Bob Reynolds' gal," but that, she now knew, was a habitual title that she could not really lay claim to. "An' aih guess aih know who'n you am, too, 'cos I heared the men a-talkin' 'bout you. You're Andie soon-ter-be Pandy, an' I don't blame you a-cauterwailin' and sobbin' like that, 'cos I guess it'd be kinda humiligratin' knowin' you're soon gonna have a stupid name like that, an' all. Ain' got the dignities of a name like Virgie-Sue McCauley, now, do it? But you're gonna jes' have to deal with it, an' try an' find some humor in the situation, there now."

She leaned back, studying the captive.

"An' I ain' stupid, nowise, I know you're a lady, 'cos I never seen no man with tits, even given your'n are kinda titchy-like. An' no man ever cried like you a-doin', aih reckon'. Aih never thought you weren't no gentleman, damnit. But aih nevah heard of no 'merika, whatever that might be when it's out-an'-about, nor no, what was it, pressy-dint. Dunno what no 'nation' is, neither, well, I heared injuns say they part of a nation, but nevah no white folks use the nomin-klatcher, leastways."

She lit a small pipe, and puffed, agitatedly.

"Anyhow an' all, whass this you a-sayin' 'bout Charles McCauley, mah intended, then? 'spectable folk? Whai, aih knowed that, gal. Think I'd be fixin' to entah the draw tobe married up ter him if'n he waren't 'spectable? An' aih'm sure you respectable, too, nevah said no stuff to the con-trare-ree. An' right glad I am to hear you and he ain' married. "

She looked at the black strap hanging from Andromeda's arm.

"Least, I gives you the bener-feet o' the doubt, though aih does wonder why you walkin' 'round a-showin' your undiewear thataways. Mah momma always taught me a 'spectable lady don' show noone her undieware 'cept her man after they hitched, an' you showin' it to anyone cares to stroll by. So what were you, then, a follower? You knows what I mean, a hoo-ar what goes along with soljers, for their ree-cree-ashun like? Don' fret girl, aih won' tell Cleet Pandy, that wouldn't be right an' all, but I kind of intrig-yooed ter know, thass all. Maybe we might share a pipe o' this fine leaf, an' talk a bit, an' you can tell me 'bout Charles McCauley, like two girls thass friends, y'know?
 
Andie was completely and utterly perplexed, not to mention beyond frustrated as well as utterly mortified by the behavior and mannerisms of these people. Truly they were unlike any sorts she'd had the misfortune of coming across in her lifetime thus far—thank Providence—and oh how she wished she could prolong that misfortune given the fact that it caused her to be in the predicament she currently was. She'd have given anything for a soft bed, a bath, for a brush to comb through her dark hair. Her eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment and she could almost imagine such luxuries being doted upon her in an exquisite house in Chicago. The bed sheets would be satin—cool upon the skin—and the bath water warm and soothing. The brush, oh that would be heavenly as Charles ran it through her locks...

Charles...?

Just then, Andie's dark eyes fluttered open. She most certainly had envisioned Charles! Charles... not Harry! Her head hung slightly while her cheeks burned a bright shade of crimson as she continued to listen to the young girl speak in her mangled speech. The words were practically incoherent and more than grating on her delicate ears, but she'd picked up enough of what she was saying—things that made her body go tense, her jaw clench, her eyes well up with tears. Looking up at the girl, she tried not to glare, though it was difficult. She'd gotten the gist that Charles was meant to marry her just as the sandy blond was meant for her. A shiver ran along her spine and a surge of jealousy coursed through her. She hoped that Charles didn't actually want to marry this trash!

Andie swallowed and glanced over at her arm, her wrists still bound behind her. "Miss, I'm respectable and any indication otherwise..." she gestured at her strap. "Is an insult. Do you not think that such a mishap is wanted?" Her face contorted slightly. "Quite obviously, my strap needs adjusting. But, my wrists are bound and I cannot fix it." A tear rolled down her cheek at the admission, being forced to say things out loud. Frowning, her wrists instinctually moved causing her to let out a tiny whimper, the ropes biting into her flesh, leaving behind burn marks as they rubbed and slid.

As Andie then thought about how this girl wanted her to tell her about Charles, she could only feel contempt. Her dislike growing exponentially as she watched the girl smoke a pipe like some ruffian low life unworthy of Charles' affections. Trying to hide her sneer, she tried to tamp down her seething emotions. But her breaths were quickening—not helped by the corset she wore—and her heart was beating faster and how she longed to walk freely with Charles and just be out of the Ozarks forever!

"As for Mr. McAuley, he is a worthy man. But if we are to speak of him, like... friends..." Andie had to almost spit the word out as she spoke. The very idea of being friends with such a girl did not sit well at all. In fact, her tummy fluttered as she felt her hands twitch behind her. "I'd much rather do so unbound." She tried to take a deep breath, but it was hard given the confinement of her corset. "If you untie me, I will not run. I am surrounded and guarded anyway," she said knowing full well there was nowhere for her to go. But at least she could stop the rope from hurting her wrists further and maybe she could finally fix her strap—even if it was indecent to do so out in the open. "So, will you untie me so that we can discuss Mr. McAuley?" she asked, trying her best to sound polite, her insides roiling and longing for Charles to be near, hoping he saw nothing in this girl that stood before her yet clearly thought herself to be his future bride.
 
Billy-Bob Reynolds was not a happy man.

At first, he'd dismissed the rumors he'd been hearing around the colony. That his girl, his intended, had been sniffing around one of the captives. Why, wasn't Virgie-Sue as sweet and constant as ever a girl was, hadn't they promised themselves to each other at the last corn-dolly jig, hadn't she told him she'd love him for ever and a day?

But as the hours had passed, and he'd heard the story from a number of sources, all of whom he considered reliable, his dismissal had turned to worry, then anxiety, and before long had become a melancholy certainty.

And eventually, his indifference to the captive had turned to hate and loathing.

Eventually, he'd retired to the porch of his parents' house, drank a full jug of moonshine - the special stuff they normally kept for parties, weddings and funerals - but it hadn't quietened his spirit. Eventually, being able to bear it no longer, he'd set out looking for Virgie-Sue, and been unable to find her. What he had found, however, was the barn where the captives were held.

He hitched his belt, flexed his biceps, and waddled in, his enormous bulk causing the ground to shake.

"So, which o' these is a-bein' Charles McCauley, then?" he asked the guard. The guard, indifferently, pointed Galvie out.

Without further discussion, Billy-Bob walked over to Galvie, drew back his ham-sized fist and planted it square in the tied man's stomach. Half suspecting what was to happen, Galvie had just had time to tense his stomach muscles to receive the blow. It was a hell of a punch, and most men would have spewed the contents of their stomach, and the guard (and, to be fair, Billy-Bob) were impressed that though Galvie winced, and exhaled, the effects of the blow were otherwise minimal.

"He kin stan' up to a hit, all right," the guard chuckled. "Aih maight ha' thought that one woulda felled a bull!"

"Yeah. Wahl, aih tell yer, he got lucky," growled Billy-Bob. He drew his face up to within a few inches of Galvie's. "Now, you jes' bide there, you gal-thief, an' take what's a-comin' to yer, 'cos Billy-Bob reynolds don' take too kindly to a man what tries to be a stealin' o'his gal."

He drew back his fist again.

And then, the click of the safety on a shotgun echoed through the barn. The eyes of Billy-Bob, Galvie and the other members of the captive 7th, all turned towards the guard.

"Now, Billy-Bob," the guard said, softly. "Remember what Jed's a-sayin'? The captives gotta be treated fairly an' justly, ain' that so?"

"He stole mah gal," Billy-Bob spat. "You a-knowin' that, Aaron Wallace. Mah lil Virgie-Sue. He -"

"An' so he maighta done," the guard retorted. "An' I was a-givin' you one free hit at him, hogtied like he be. An' that on account o' we friends, an' your brother, Zebidee a-married mah sistah Bettie-Rose an' a-treated her right an' all. But one hit is one hit, an' more than one, on a man that's tied... that ain't manly, Billy-Bob Reynolds. You's a-knowin' it, an' I's a-knowin' it. You wanna try conclusions with him, you be a-waitin' 'till he's free, an' you can do it fair an' square, that's all I's a sayin'."

And at this, Galvie saw his chance. A long shot, and risky - though not, perhaps, as risky as all that. For, whatever he said, Billy-Bob Reynolds was now gunning for him.

"About what I've have expected," he said, confidently. "Best he can do is hit a man that's tied. And even then, it felt like a fly biting. Seems to me Virgie-Sue's better off marrying a cockroach or a chicken, than a man cowardly enough to hit a man when he's tied, and even then can barely make him feel it."

Billy-Bob raised his fist, advanced upon Charles, and then, at a warning growl from Aaron, halted.

"Soon as you free," he flung back over his shoulder, as he stalked form the barn. "You'n'me, outlander."

"I look forward to it," lied Charles.

*****

Virgie-Sue had not gone into the barn with any intention of untying the female captive. To do was like to get her behind whaled by her father. The rule was that any captives were to be held secure until the general consensus of the colony was that they would not try and run. She had meant simply to find out more about the man who had totally grabbed hold of her heart, no more, no less.

But, unschooled and lacking in sophistication as she might have been, Virgie-Sue was far from a fool. This girl was obviously a friend of Charles. Therefore, any kindness or generosity shown to her would only increase Virgie-Sue's standing in his eyes. Sure, lots would be drawn for captives who had not indicated any preference, but she knew well that Jed, the leader of the colony, was not above excluding captives from the draw and giving them outright to potential spouses, if both sides indicated a preference. It would be far better if Charles chose her, rather than simply "winning" him by chance. And anyway, success in the lottery was far from guaranteed.

In any case, she mused, it was safe enough. This girl was obviously no fighter. If she did try and run, it would be simple enough to restrain her. And having been tied up, she would be in an even worst state to resist. And did not all captives have to be untied sooner or later, anyway?

She thought for a second, came to a decision, and then moved behind Andromeda and loosened the knot at the rear of her wrists, leaving her legs tied.

"There, now," she said, standing back. "You cairn't run, aih guess, but least youh maight be a-fixin' of your hayer, an' a-hitchin' up o' that silly wayward strap o' yourn. Cairn't be a-lettin' Cleet see you a-showin' o' yer secret naither-garments, now, cairn we?"

She stood back and smoothed her dress which (having been selected specifically for Charles' benefit) was slightly tighter than either comfort or decency demanded, and had a tendency to creep up on her hips. Then she picked up her pipe and drew on it, noting with satisfaction that it was still lit.

"So, now, Miss Andie," she continued. "Seems ter me aih jes' did you a favor. So aih guess you can be a-doin' me one now, in return. Jes' you be a-tellin' me how this girl can be a-winnin' o' Mr Charles McAuley's heart, you ken maih meanin'? You be a-tellin' me what he's a-likin' an' not a-likin' in his girls, what fripperies and dresses he's a-relishin', how aih should be a-doin' o' maih hayer, an' suchlike. Aih cal'clate weah gonna be right good friends, Miss Andie Hammond, an', hey, mayhap weah can have us a double weddin', you'n'Cleet an' me'n'Charles. Imagin' theah shindig we gonna be a-havin', eh?"
 
As the ropes lifted from Andie's wrists she immediately let out a tiny sigh of relief. The kiss of the cool air as it brushed against her marred flesh was more than welcoming. It soothed the burns, causing a small shiver to run along her spine. Her body shuddered slightly, her eyes fluttering shut as she moved to rub at the wounds left in the ropes' wake. For a brief moment, she imagined Charles was there with her, his hands touching her wrists, inspecting the injuries, but the thought flitted away all too quickly as the girl began to speak, her discordant speech wreaking havoc with her ears with its cacophony.

Tiny, delicate hands reached up to run their fingers through long, dark tresses. Tresses that had been mussed and tousled due to the raid and how she'd been handled and dragged off only to be unpleasantly tied up like some lowly animal. Andie did the best she could, but she knew it was hardly the sort of job Helen would've done. Oh, to have that woman present. Oh, to be back home in Chicago! Letting out another sigh, she dropped her hands to her lap and turned to glance at the shimmery corset strap that had fallen along her arm.

Andie's tummy fluttered at the sight of the strap. Knowing that it had been showing, that even these people found it distasteful, just made it all the more embarrassing that it had found its way from its proper location under her dress. She truly felt humiliated and so very foolish. She'd been hasty to dress herself and all for a visit that went awry. Now, she was sitting in some dirty barn being told she'd marry some disgusting man she didn't know and didn't love...

Just then, Andie bit down on her lip. It was rather ironic. She'd gone from one betrothal to another and neither one truly appealing...

Had she just admitted that? As Andie sat there, her mind reeling, she knew in her heart that she had. Dark eyes pricking with tears, she adjusted her strap and looked up into the girl's face. Her own twisted as she tried to find her voice. The confidence she'd just had while tied suddenly disappeared. How could she tell this girl what Charles liked when she honestly didn't know herself? She knew what she hoped, but she'd embarrassed herself so many times in front of him that he couldn't possibly find someone like her even remotely attractive. Even with her impeccable taste and breeding, her recent string of bad luck had to be enough to condemn her, she was certain!

"Well," Andie began, finally managing to speak, her voice a bit shaky as she held back her tears. "I do believe Mr. McAuley has fine taste." She recalled his gentlemanly manner, the respectability he'd shown her. "But," she continued before biting down on her lip. "Perhaps I can find out more for you. I honestly do not know him as well as you might think. "In fact, I do not know anyone all that well." She hung her head as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Andie's body shook slightly as the tears spilled from her dark eyes. Tiny gasps and whimpers bubbling up as she tried to breathe through the confines of her corset. But each breath she took only became more difficult the harder she cried. However, she couldn't help it. She felt so alone and she wanted Charles. Not Harry who hadn't so much as ever paid her compliment. Not one! Not even in whispers...

No. She didn't know Harry and she didn't want to.

"Maybe you can take me to him and I can find out for you?" Andie suggested, though she truly was pleading, hoping to finally see the one man she longed to see. Swallowing hard, she choked back more tears. She didn't expect this girl to allow her the luxury and privilege to be moved let alone see Charles, but she had to try. Nothing else seemed to work and she was becoming desperate, frightened being alone with such people. Rubbing at her injured wrists, she looked at the girl, her eyes glistening with tears. "Well? Would you like me to do that for you? I'm sure it would please him greatly."
 
Galvie's taunting of Billy-Bob had been exclusively performed as part of his plan, and he had not expected any other benefit to come of it. Yet, to his surprise, it bore other fruit. Or, more specifically, extra bread, extra meat (fried squirrel, boiled gopher and stewed sparrow, but he'd eaten worse and enjoyed it,) extra vegetables and extra coffee. His bravery in defying Billy-Bob even when tied seemed to have struck a chord in the mountain men. These people took bravery for granted, yet this was chutzpah of a particularly awe-inspiring degree, even by their standards. No wonder, went the gossip, Virgie-Sue started blushing and patting at her hair whenever his name was mentioned. Now, the guards looked upon him as a celebrity, untying him at regular intervals (though keeping him carefully covered with their motley assortment of weaponry) to ease his wrists and ankles, and twice a day he was given the privilege of exercising.

The biggest surprise of all, though, was the attitude of Billy-Bob Reynolds. The gigantic hillbilly could be expected to hate him (if the position had been reversed, Galvie would have loathed his rival to Hades and beyond) yet word got back to him that, staggeringly, the spurned one was speaking of him in terms that bordered upon the admiring. Billy-Bob was in no doubt that he would smash Galvie to pieces if and when they finally got the chance to try conclusions, yet he seemed almost proud of how Galvie had stood up to his punch, as if somehow having his girl stolen by such a man conferred a kind of secondary luster upon him!

And the irony of ironies was that had Billy-Bob only known Galvie's plan, he would have faked the punch in the first place, which would have meant that Galvie's stomach muscles would not have been as sore, yet his stock would not have stood quite so high!

*****

There is no doubt that certain forbidden courses of action are more tempting than others. Many eastern parents, for example, had tried the clever psychological trick of refusing their children broccoli and cabbage as a punishment for bad behavior, with the secret agenda of making the children relish these otherwise despised comestibles, now that they were forbidden - but there is little recorded evidence that such strategy had ever borne fruit. However, had those same children been asked to consume three plates of donuts each, washed down with fizzy cola, as a special favor, the children would have rushed to comply in a spirit of philanthropy.

Similarly, though it was couched as a favor to the captive girl, for her need to see Charles was transparent, Virgie-Sue was more than eager to comply. She knew that girls who showed too much eagerness were often despised by their potential suitors, and that stalking of one's potential mate could only ever be counter productive. Just as female pigeons will always edge away from those seeking their favors until such times as the male loses interest - upon which attitude the females will hastily reverse theirs - so Virgie-Sue knew that the right mix of panting infatuation and supreme indifference, the both emotions displayed at precisely the right moments, were what truly hooked one's man!

Therefore, visiting Charles alone was out of the question. For a start, he'd feel chased, which was not the name of the game. Particularly as whenever she encountered him, she found herself unable to stop her face flaring up into a humiliating blush, and her hands, as if developing a life of their own, would start pushing at her hair, tugging at her dress, and, if she wasn't careful, discreetly pushing at her breasts, which tended to sag slightly, being generous in size and circumference. In short, being in Charles McCauley's orbit tended to reduce her from a tough, no-nonsense virago prone to spitting through her teeth and scratching her armpits to a shy, gentle maiden!

But what fate - in the form of this simpering, effete girl - had done was to provide a gift of rare price. Virgie-Sue now had a perfect excuse to go and see Charles, and under the guise of reluctance. "Whaiy," she could say, at the first hint of teasing, "Aih declair, aih navah was a-wantin' to go at all, no sirree, aih gots maihself much more int'res't'n things to be a-doin', but thart Andie gal, wahl, she insisted, an' she was so all-fire diss'parnt'd, wahl, jes' what could a gal be a-doin'?"

Oh yes, things had worked out perfectly indeed.

"Wahl, OK," she said, after a pause in which she pretended to be considering and overcoming extreme reluctance. "Aih guess it mus' be kinda hard for a gal like you, all alone heah, with no-one ter talk to an' all. An' didn't Jed saih we hadda be a-treatin' the captives wahl? Ah mean, for me, aih'd a-sooner go a-huntin' racoon this fine aftah-noon, or a-swimmin' in the crick, but aih can see you cravin' to be a-seein' of your friend. Aih guess I kin do youh a kindness. But it's jes' this once, mind, an' you gotta do all I say, an' behave yerself, you ken?"

However, before she untied Andie, Virgie-Sue spent more time than might be usual for a casual visit, on smoothing up her sagging cotton stockings, shaking out her curls, hitching up her gravity-possessed bosom, and wriggling her dress down into a becoming smoothness, before picking up her gun and leading the Eastern girl across the muddied ground, towards the barn where the male captives were held.
 
As Andie listened intently, trying with all her might to decipher the strangled speech of this low life girl who held all the cards while she sat there hoping beyond hope that she'd finally get the chance to be reunited with Charles—even if only briefly so as to catch a glimpse. That tiny glance would give her the hope she'd need to get her through everything that was about to unfold before her with this Mr. Pandy fellow. Oh how the very idea of being intended to such a man made her insides churn! It was honestly enough to give her nightmares, rendering her nights sleepless at best!

Biting down on her lower lip, Andie looked up at the girl through her thick lashes. Her heart pounding hard as she dared to hope for what she was certain would be an impossibility, at least not until the inevitable horror of marrying Cleetus Pandy came to pass. But then, she heard those words. Words that were barely coherent, yet just enough so that she managed to understand them. She had all she could do not to erupt into giggles, her mind spinning as her body felt light now that she'd been told her request would be granted.

Was her luck finally turning?

Briefly, Andie's dark eyes shifted toward her shoulder, fearful that her corset strap might fall again. Surely, she couldn't be that lucky. Her misfortune on this journey had been nothing but grim since she'd started this trip to New Orleans! However, when she noticed that nothing was showing, that everything was perfectly in place as it should be, she smiled politely and nodded.

"I thank you kindly. No doubt Mr. McAuley will thank you as well and be most appreciative of this gesture." Andie's smile broadened, a hand moving a bit nervously to fix her dark curls.

Andie hoped that when she managed to find Charles that he was indeed all right. These people were strange with their odd speech and their want to marry those of their convoy. Oh how she hoped he hadn't fallen under the spell of the trash that would be escorting her to him! The very idea made her seethe! How this girl could so boldly speak about him as she did when she didn't even know him, she'd never understand! What was more, she was hardly his type! Wasn't she?

As Andie's cheeks began to burn, the scarlet blush moving along her slope of her neck and down over the swells of her breasts, she began to smooth out her red dress, making sure that each layer was perfect. From what she could tell, everything was—a first indeed—which made her quite happy to say the least. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she discreetly checked to make sure her corset wasn't falling or twisting and then her garters, followed by her stockings which were fastened to them. It was hard to do so while being watched and even harder seeing as her legs were still tied, but she managed as best she could.

~~~

After Andie had managed to adjust herself, the girl waiting what seemed to be patiently, she'd finally been escorted out of her place of keeping to another location entirely. It was a dilapidated barn that smelled terribly. She wondered what sort of things these people had kept—or done—in that barn before deciding to keep the men of their convoy hostage inside it! At least they'd had the decency to hold her elsewhere for the time being! Bringing up her hand, the marred flesh of her wrist blaringly visible given the stark contrast of the red rope burns to her pale coloration, she gripped at her nose to help tamp out the putrid smell. It did little to help, though she figured it was better than nothing.

Looking over at the girl, Andie's dark eyes flashed momentarily. "Where is he?" she whispered harshly. "Wh..."

But Andie's words were cut off as both she and the girl were met by men who seemed to be guarding the barn and, quite obviously, their newfound hostages. She bit down on her lip, her fingers still gripping her nose. She hoped they'd get to enter further, that soon she'd be seeing her Charles.

Her Charles? Had she truly thought that?

As she licked at her lips, Andie knew that she had. Her dark eyes fluttered shut and began to well up with tears as she waited for the girl and the men guarding the barn to talk and hopefully, by conversation's end, allow her entrance so that she could catch the glimpse she needed that would give her hope to carry on.
 
Getting into the barn was far from easy. The guard had changed in the last few minutes, and Esau Robertson, who was now on duty, was one of the biggest sticklers in the colony. Virgie-Sue had to exert all of her flirtatious charm to get him to unbend, but she finally managed it by agreeing to only staying a few minutes, and agreeing to Esau coming in with them. "And aftah all's saird," she added, as a clinching argument, "It's nigh on tahme fer the poor tied critters ter be set at liberty,n'all. Jed ain' a-plannin' on a-keepin' 'em hawgtied fer evah, now, is he? Come on - give a poor gal a chance ter spark her man, why dontcha?"

*****

Benjamin Franklin is not actually reported as saying the following maxim, but this author suspects this is merely because he was too busy living it to utter it - and the maxim is this. That for a healthy and successful sex life, a man must learn the value of separation. To have a girl in one's life is pleasant, but to have two is bliss. And to have the two of them meet is hell incarnate.

Galvie would, therefore, have been perfectly happy to receive a visit from either Virgie-Sue Haworth or Andromeda Hammond. To the first, he would have declared his blissful and passionate infatuation, hinting at the joys of their future together, and his impatience to hold her in his arms as his bride. To Miss Hammond, he would, by some subtle means, have urged her to take courage, that he had already a plan in place to get them both away from this place, and that she should possess herself in patience, while being prepared to follow his lead when the time came. But neither of these messages were, he saw, able to be delivered. Hinting at his plan to Miss Hammond would, unfortunately, also reveal it to Virgie-Sue, who was far from stupid. And yet, he half-suspected that Andromeda Hammond had conceived some small, minor infatuation for him, simply that of a naive girl for a man of notoriety, which under normal circumstances she would have forgotten as soon as he had been handed over, and yet might (if he played up too much to Virgie-Sue,) cause her to suffer the emotions of a spoiled woman scorned, and lead her to be unresponsive to any discreet message he might try to send her.

Therefore, when the two girls appeared before him, both of them blushing beet-red and plucking at their clothing (for Virgie-Sue's cotton stockings had sagged again, and her dress had gathered around her waist during the walk, while Andromeda's dress was now wrinkled from her captivity, and her bothersome corset-strap appeared to have slipped yet again,) he was forced simply to exchange pleasantries. Virgie-Sue was obviously disappointed at this, and seemed to be trying to draw him out into a greater eloquence, but soon realized (or thought she did) that it was from delicacy for her own feelings that he was being so restrained, for it can be disconcerting for a girl to be praised in too poetic a fashion when other males (such as Esau Robertson) were present and listening.

So, after returning bland but cheerful replies to the girls' solicitous inquiries about his health, contentment and chances of future liberty, he began trying bu subtle means to convey a message to Miss Hammond. And, as he continued in the conversation, a way occurred to him to do this.

"You know, Miss Hammond," he said, casually, "Soon you and I will be like ICARUS and DAEDALUS. You know who I mean, right?" He turned to Virgie-Sue. "You might not know this, beautiful one, but Icarus was a man from mythology who met a girl in the wilderness and fell in love with her. And Daedalus was a girl who fell captive to a man with whom she fell in love and married."

While Virgie-Sue was wriggling and blushing in delight at what she thought was a compliment, Galvie continued.

"You and I, Miss Hammond, are in the position of PERSEPHONE and ORPHEUS. I have a plan to bring this about. I am as eager to marry Virgie-Sue here as ANTONY would have been to marry BRUTUS. And I will be so happy to have you as the good friend of my wife, and hope our respective weddings will happen in only slightly more time than SISYPHUS took to roll that rock to the top of the hill. I am guessing that you love your Clete as much as KATHERINA loved PETRUCHIO when she first met him, am I right?

Swiftly, he explained his references to Virgie-Sue, who, by the time he had finished, thought herself no end of a highly cultured girl, for knowing that Persephone and Orpheus were a brother and sister in law who both loved their spouses, that Antony was a sailor who fell in love with a mermaid called Brutus, that Susyphus was a man who won a medal for the fastest that a rock had ever been pushed to the peak of a hill, and that Katherina and Petruchio were... (here, Galvie had told the tale of "Romeo and Juliet," with careful substitution of names)...

"I wonder," he said, at last, to Virgie-Sue, "if you'd be so kind as to do what you can to postpone the wedding of my good friend Miss Hammond until such time as I am free and we can celebrate our own nuptials. It would delight both myself and Miss Hammond if we might have a double wedding, to start our new lives here, for I know that MISS HAMMOND IS AS KEEN AS I AM TO STAY HERE!" (this, at least, was true,) for we consider ourselves as fortunate as PROMETHUS and MICHAEL FINNEGAN combined that we have found ourselves here.

There was something to be said, he reflected, as he tried to look as innocent as he could (for the benefit of Virgie-Sue and Esau Robertson) for a classical education. He only hoped Miss Hammond had paid attention during her own education, and that she had got the message!
 
The moment Andie's dark eyes fixed themselves upon Charles, she could feel her cheeks begin to burn. The heat was intense, no doubt obvious to anyone who dared look in her direction and considering she stood out among those around her—what with her posh red attire, the gown sweeping and swishing against the floor as she gracefully moved along side Virgie-Sue—she was certain that would be everyone in the room! She bit down on her lower lip nervously for a moment, swallowing hard as she tried to gain her composure. But all it did was remind her of how dry her mouth had become, how frazzled and frayed her nerves were now that she was in the presence of the one man she longed to be near. As she watched him, she carefully observed the way in which his eyes seemed to shift back and forth between herself and the piece of white trash that had escorted her to the putrid barn.

Andie had to wonder if Charles had truly gained affection for the girl. Could he truly be swayed by such rubbish? She could barely speak let alone dress! Her clothes were ghastly, hardly the sort of things a proper lady should wear. The fabrics were terrible and the fashion itself spoke volumes of her character—low class refuse that wasn't worth the time of someone like Mr. Charles McAuley!

As Andie stood there, her insides knotting up as her emotions roiled and seethed, she found herself to be a bit embarrassed that she was thinking such things of a man who'd committed treason in his own country—a murderer, a criminal. She wondered what her father would think if he knew of her current thoughts about the man she was escorting to Annesland. After all, she was Amerika's ambassador for the peace talks, their one and only hope to ensure the truce would be upheld and secured! What would everyone think if they knew she was starting to have affections...

Affections?

Oh how Andie wished she could hide! And Harry! There was still Harry to contend with! Her father and mother expected her to follow through with the betrothal to him. He was a smart match after all. His breeding and family ties were perfect, impeccable to say the least! Any and all offspring between them would ensure a bright future for both the Hammonds and the Smythes. Yet, she could only look to such a future with disdain and distaste, her lip curling into a slight sneer at the very thought. Just then, her attentions were diverted as she realized the black strap of her corset had once again fallen, once again disgracing her for all to see. Heaving a heavy sigh, her cheeks burning even brighter than before, she averted her dark gaze and found herself wishing she had a moment of privacy.

Wishing she could adjust herself, Andie's thoughts were also preoccupied with that of Virgie-Sue. The girl giggled delightedly at the sight of her Charles as if she was the one he'd chosen to be with for all time. Then again, had he? She acted as if she knew him, had spoken to him. And for all she knew, she very well could have. Licking her lips, she looked over at the girl, her tiny hands fidgeting, balling into fists as she finally gripped her skirts in both worry and anger. She then looked to Charles who began to speak of stories, mythological and literary tales she'd learned in her youth.

Andie tilted her head slightly as she listened, arching a brow when some of his words didn't fit quite right. She clearly remembered the tales, the characters, all of it. But the context he was using. It was right, yet all wrong. Wrinkling her nose, she tried to make sense of what he was saying. Surely a man such as him knew the tales just as she did! Suddenly, she let out a tiny gasp, everything coming together in her mind. She looked over at the giddy Virgie-Sue, her hand reaching up to plug her crinkled nose. Letting out a sigh, she nodded resolutely, her eyes finding Charles'. She thought she understood his words. Or, well, she hoped she did.

Oh, why was it so difficult to tell! Perhaps it was her nerves! The man had no idea of her thoughts or feelings and would probably laugh at the idea of one such as her having any feelings at all. But had them, she did. Of all the times and places, Andie had to fully realize this now. It certainly wasn't the most romantic or ideal situation and how mortifying to be so unsure! She was Andromeda Elizabeth Schaeffer Hammond! Daughter of the president! How could Charles not return her affections?

But, unfortunately, Andie found herself uncertain and terrified—for the first time—that rejection would be imminent. That Charles could very well prefer this... Virgie-Sue... over her. Even with his cryptic messages regarding tales. It wasn't poetry or sweet words. And was he truly promising escape? Did he have plans... did they include her...? Again, her cheeks burned, her dark eyes pricking with tears.

"A... a delay would most certainly be appreciated," Andie finally spoke, she gave Virgie-Sue a look of scorn, her eyes fluttering slightly yet discreetly as she giggled and fussed with her horrendous attire. She then looked over at Charles. "A double wedding would better suit my tastes and desires."

Andie's knuckles had turned white as her grip on her skirts had tightened. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, her head turning just enough so that she could glance at the strap that had fallen, the shiny black of it mocking her as it stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin. Slowly, she allowed her grip to loosen, but her body remained ever tense as she looked at Charles and then over at Virgie-Sue, her eyes staring daggers in her very direction.
 
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