Turtledove, Harry - War of the Provinces 02 - Marching Through Peachtree by Turtledove Harry

Author:Turtledove, Harry
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

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VII

Having crossed the Hoocheecoochee, Rollant had hoped

for a sudden, triumphant descent on Marthasville.

He'd pictured southrons marching through the city in a grand and glorious procession, as they'd done in Rising Rock at the end of the previous summer. But what he'd pictured didn't happen. The traitors' army remained between that of General Hesmucet and Marthasville. Whenever the southrons sent scouts to probe at the enemy's defenses, they got a warm reception.

"We ought to be doing more," he told Smitty one morning as the two of them heated tea over a campfire.

"Nothing I can do about it— I'm just an ordinary fellow, ordinary as they come,"

Smitty answered. "But now that you're a high and mighty corporal, you could probably stroll right up to Doubting George or General Hesmucet and tell 'em what's on your mind.

They'd hop to it, I bet."

"It's a good thing I already know you're a chucklehead," Rollant said. "If I didn't, I'd figure you were trying to get me into trouble."

"You're a blond," Smitty said. "How much more trouble do you need?— and is that water boiling yet?"

Rollant looked into the saucepan he was holding over the flames. "Not quite," he said, and then, "You know, there's a lot of people I'd want to belt, if they went on and on about how I'm a blond."

"Sorry, your Corporalship, sir," Smitty said, his mocking style, as often happened, making it hard for Rollant to tell how serious he was. "I take it all back. You're right—

having yellow hair's no trouble at all for you."

"Gods damn it, I didn't mean that." Rollant wondered if he'd ever had a day in his whole life go by where being a blond wasn't a trouble in one way or another. He didn't think so. "What I was trying to say was, you mostly don't give me trouble on account of what I am. If you talk about it, I don't mind so much."

"Oh." Smitty thought that over, then grinned. "You say the sweetest things, darling."

He blew Rollant a kiss. "But I bet you tell them to all the Detinans."

That left Rollant's cheeks hotter than the water, which had begun to boil. He took the saucepan away from the flames and poured its contents first into Smitty's mug and then into his own. Both had ground tea leaves and sugar waiting for the hot water. Stirring the tea gave Rollant an excuse not to do anything else for the next minute or two. At last, he asked, "How did you get to be such a nuisance?"

"I work hard at it," Smitty said, not without pride. "Just ask my father and my mother and my two older sisters and my older brother. If my other older brother was still alive, you could ask him, too." He held up a hasty hand. "I didn't have anything to do with him dying, though. It was the coughing fever."

Rollant gallantly tried to get back to talking about what he wanted to talk about: "We ought to push the traitors harder.

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