Page 14 of Tashama
He fingered the sleeve of her turtleneck. “Your garments. I’ve never seen such strange clothes in my life.”
“I got used to it just fine.”
“What village do you hail from?”
“I don’t remember.”
The healer eyed her suspiciously, and she shrugged. “Bal…Balfour was supposed to instruct me…”
“Instruct you?”
“Reintroduce me to my people. I’ve been away for a while.” Tashama squirmed on the cot. Her answers must have sounded strange.
“To?”
She said nothing in response.
“We don’t know what to make of you, young lady.”
“I want to see the general.”
“Our women don’t make demands of us.”
“Oh?” Her eyes grew round. Standing up from the mattress, she grew dizzy. She grabbed the healer’s shoulder, and he helped her sit on the bed.
“You might feel a little groggy until after you’ve eaten.”
“Can I eat soon so I can see the general?”
“Our jailers will feed us soon.”
The rumbling wagon wheels rolling into the compound announced the meal was on its way. Not long after, a young man hurried to bring Tashama’s pewter plate to her.
His hand brushed hers, and she glanced up to study his eyes for a moment. “You’ll help lead the revolt.” She looked at the roasted chicken, stewed tomatoes, and garden lettuce sitting on the plate. “I expected wormy bread and potatoes—nothing like this.”
“What does she mean?” The soldier stared at her.
“She has the gift,” one of the wounded men said.
The healer attempted to change the subject. “They feed us well—as we feed their prisoners in kind.”
She took a bite of the chicken. “With food like this, who would want to escape?” She licked her fingers of the lemon-and-pepper spices flavoring the home-grown fowl.
The healer shook his head. “Nobody is to escape, miss. It’s just our way.”
“Does she truly have the gift?” the soldier asked.
“You have other wounded to feed.” The healer motioned for the soldier to leave the tent. Healer Throckmorton turned his attention to Tashama. “You should not say such things to the men, miss.”
She poked at her stewed fruit with her three-pronged fork. “You’re not serious? You mean, no one has tried to dig tunnels or slip under the food wagon when it leaves the compound or wear the guards’ uniforms to make their escape?”
“Of course not, miss.”
She grimaced and lifted a lettuce leaf off her plate. “I won’tstay here any longer thanIhave to.”
“How do you propose to leave?” The healer’s voice rose slightly as if surprised.
“I would have to check out the lay of the camp first—watch the comings and goings of the guard—that sort of thing.” Tashama had seen enough World War II prisoner-of-war movies to know how it was done.
