WIP Wednesday
Hi, all! I attended the Turn event in Gettysburg last Friday, and now all my thoughts are centered on my SS&SP Civil War Au. Here's a little peak at Benjamin and Liz's first time on the road... it's going super well!
“And what would you rather be doing?” She asked. God help her, but it was too easy, taunting him-- he was a stand-in for her father, for the things she couldn’t control. He was all she could fight back against. “Fawning over a general on his staff? Cutting down cabbages with your saber?” She’d watched the Light Horse drill in Philadelphia, putting on a show for the eager young boys and city debutantes. “Because what else is there for you, Major?” Tallmadge’s jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed, a strike of heat lightening. “I have seen battle, Miss Walker.” His voice was tight. “It is nothing to joke about.” He leaned forward-- the distance between the train benches were so slim that his knees brushed her skirts. “I saw the bloodshed at Antietam, I helped the army retreat when we lost Fredericksburg. Last month, I was there when that damned Stuart hacked us to pieces at Brandy Station.” The air became stiff in the train car. Elizabeth wanted to look away, but her gaze was paralyzed, fixed on Tallmadge’s face, the fire she ignited. “I already told you I do not wish to be your escort, miss.” His words were a sharp hiss, now. “I should be on the field, with my men. I should be fighting those Rebels with everything in me. Instead,” he paused, looking askance to the crowd surrounding them… the back to her, “I am here, on a train, escorting a spoiled young woman who knows what she’s saying is damned wrong.” Oh, God. “I-- I am sorry you feel that way, Major Tallmadge.” She wrung her hands in her lap. She humiliated herself, and for what? “Do not feign naivety again, Miss Walker. It does not suit you.” “Major-” she tried again- “It is all right. The feeling is mutual, isn’t it?” She swallowed down a bitter reply. “Yes. It is.” He finally looked away, and Elizabeth thought he looked older than his twenty-five years. Did she look young and foolish? The space widened between them as he leaned on his side, his face touching the cool glass window. The sun was still shining as they raced between the wide swarths of farmland. “I am going to try and get some rest. Wake me when we reach Lancaster, or Rebels seize the train. Whichever comes first.” “If that happens, I’ll let you sleep and fend for myself, sir.” One more measly retort. He laughed wryly. “Whatever you say, miss.”
