Page 81 of After 5

“Her vessel will blend.”

“I’m going to need a drink if I have to ride in your hooptie,” Marco said to me.

Ace called after us on our way to my vessel. “Doll, the next drink you’ll take will be from a rusty canteen.”

Chapter 16

My outhouse landed with a weird thunk and tilted to the front. Gertie let out a breath. “Thank god!” she said. “These trips always make me nervous.”

A slice of light filtered in through the gaps in the wooden planks, and our shadows danced around the outhouse. Gertie let out a giggle.

Marco’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa.”

“What?” I asked them.

“You’re dressed as a man,” Gertie said.

My hands went to my face. A short mustache and beard surrounded my mouth. Gertie reached over and tugged on my beard.

“It’s not real, I believe it’s stuck on with glue,” I said. “Like the one I wore at the wedding.”

Marco blew out a relieved sigh, then cursed. “Shit, we’re on the losing team.” He looked down at his filthy, faded Confederate uniform. “I thought we were landing in Union territory. We’d better find our mark and get the hell out of here before we end up on the front lines.”

I eased the door open, and we exited the outhouse into a small basin tucked into a clearing of hundred-year-old oaks. The area seemed spot on. We moved under a patch of light drilled through the dense canopies of surrounding foliage for a better look at ourselves.

A gray double-breasted coat with shiny brass buttons covered the shirt and cloth flattening my breasts to teenage boy status. My vessel aped the male persona disguise I had worn from the wedding. If on purpose or accident, I had no clue. Dark gray pants and a garment at my throat completed my ensemble. A bag hung at my side next to a canteen. I removed a tall hat and inspected the red cloth wrapped around the band of the hat. The cloth was adorned with a cross. I repositioned it on my head.

“Why are you dirty?” I asked Marco after examining my uniform.

“Looks like I’ve seen some action. Helps me blend in.”

Gertie and I wouldn’t blend as easily. Our clothes didn’t have the same battle scars. Gertie’s burgundy full skirt and camel cotton jacket strapped with canteens and pouches had her clanging as she moved to check her gear. A red band was secured around her right bicep, and her hair twisted up into a gray bandanna.

“I’m a vivandière, I think.” She pointed to the red cloth on her upper arm.

“A what?” Marco asked.

“Like a nurse. The vivandières would go out on the battlefield to help the wounded.” She looked up at my hat. “And you’re part of the ambulance corps. That red badge on your hat identifies you.”

My clothes were cut from finer cloth than those of my teammates. The chain of a gold pocket watch hung from my vest.

“Based on your clothes, I’d guess you’re a doctor. You’re also a lieutenant.” She tapped the insignia on my jacket.

Dang. I wasn’t so good with blood.

“Maybe our mark is at the hospital,” I suggested.

“Most likely your vessel outfitted us as medical corps because they move freely among the wounded and the opposing side’s not supposed to shoot at us.” Gertie’s optimistic look gave me hope we would find Caiyan and not end up dead.

“I’m so screwed,” Marco said holding his cap in his hands. “First Texas Regiment.” He showed us the top of his hat embroidered with a number one and a star. “Who’d of guessed I’d be a Texan?”

Gertie and I smiled at each other.

“Better late than never,” Gertie said.

“It’s also the regiment scratched on the sword,” I said.

Marco shook the canteen hanging at his side. “It’s full. But my cap and cartridge boxes are empty.” He motioned at the leather pouches attached to his belt.

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