A Girl Called Samson: A Novel by Amy Harmon

Author:Amy Harmon [Harmon, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2023-03-31T18:30:00+00:00

We didn’t want to sleep near the depot, but the wind howled and the night was cold. Williby led us about a mile north to the barn of a “friendly,” and we hunkered down inside and ate a feast of pickled eggs and bottled peaches from the cavern. Sproat passed around a bottle of pilfered wine, but I barely wetted my lips before handing it to the general. I desperately needed to empty my bladder and would have to wait until everyone was asleep. The men had only to step outside. I would have to go a little farther.

The space was huge, and we brought the horses inside as well, sheltering them from the weather and hiding them from anyone who might pass by. I lay back against my saddle and took out my book and quill, not eager to write, but needing an excuse to sit up when the others were bedding down. Grippy and the general spread themselves out and pulled their hats over their eyes like the others, and I scratched away by the light of Williby’s lantern, writing a letter to Elizabeth that was more a list of the goods we’d seen in the cavern than anything else.

I didn’t want the general to see me step outside. He would be the only one who cared and would mark my absence and my return. Sproat had assigned a man to watch, but everyone seemed mellowed by the wine and unconcerned about our safety.

“I know the farmer who owns this barn. He’s a patriot. We’ll be fine here,” Williby had reassured us.

“No book tonight, Shurtliff?” the general asked, his voice heavy.

“Perhaps. I’m not really that tired.”

He grunted and lifted his hat from his eyes so he could look at me.

“Liar. You’re nodding off just sitting there.”

I put my journal back in my saddlebag, stretched out like the others, and closed my eyes, convinced my discomfort would prevent me from sleeping.

It didn’t.

I awoke hours later, the men around me already stirring, morning light seeping in through the cracks in the barn walls.

I scrambled up, stunned that I’d slept so deeply, and almost wet myself, so desperate was my need.

The general and the others were saddling their horses, talking quietly, and I hurried past them and out the door, rushing for the trees. Someone chuckled, and Grippy called after me.

“I need a moment. My bowels are feeling a little loose. Too much fruit,” I babbled.

The chuckling multiplied, but no one followed.

I walked, teeth clenched, until I was certain no one could see me and no one had decided to come after me. I crouched behind a bush, my back against a tree, and wriggled my breeches down while contorting to keep the stream of urine from hitting my shoes or wetting my clothes. I’d gotten spoiled the last months at the Red House with a private perch and a locking door, and I had grown soft. I stayed crouched much longer than I usually dared, making sure I was emptied

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