Susanna Fraser by A Dream Defiant

stopped the flames on Rose’s dress too quickly to be burned himself, but his coat and shirt were singed.
    “Mrs. Merrifield,” Farlow said, “if you wish, you may gather your things, and you and your son may pass the rest of your night in my tent, since yours is so damaged. I give you my word you will remain unmolested, in all ways.” He cast a warning gaze around the surrounding audience.
    Rose glanced at the charred, soaked remains of her tent and the little pile of gear and bedding she and Jake still sat among. “Thank you, sir.”
    At a few more words from Farlow, Elijah and the other assembled soldiers shouldered Rose’s bags and trunks while the lieutenant himself pulled her to her feet and offered her his arm. She winced when she put weight on her bare, burned foot.
    “That won’t do,” Farlow murmured. “And I daresay you shouldn’t try shoes or stockings on it.”
    He hesitated, and Elijah guessed why. Farlow was barefoot himself, and though wiry, he was slim and slightly built, while Rose was tall for a woman and sturdy and curvy with it.
    Evidently Rose saw the problem, too, for a flicker of amusement flashed through her eyes despite her pain and the awkwardness of the situation. “Here, sir,” she said, handing over Jake. “If you wouldn’t mind carrying him.”
    “Of course not,” he said, settling the boy awkwardly on his hip.
    Rose turned to Elijah and held out her arms. “Please?” she said.
    He remembered their kiss, then. He’d almost forgotten, during the fire and its aftermath. Now he swallowed his desire and a few other things and scooped her up in his arms, after passing the trunk he’d been carrying to Pritchard.
    “After all this, Rosie,” Pritchard grumbled as he shifted under the weight, “I think you should show us these famous jewels. It’s the least you can do.”
    “She doesn’t owe you anything,” Elijah said. She indeed had the necklace clasped above her knee like a garter. He could feel the stones digging into his forearm.
    “What foolishness!” Luisa said. “ I will show you the jewels.”
    The little procession to Lieutenant Farlow’s tent halted in its tracks, and everyone turned to gape at Luisa. But Elijah watched Rose, and her eyes widened with something approaching glee.
    Luisa reached into the neck of her dress and pulled out a strand of red beads with a silver cross on the end. A rosary, that was the word. “Here is your treasure. Elijah gave it to Rose as Sam asked, but she did not want to keep it—she said it made her too sad. So I took it. I promised her I will use it when I pray every night for Sam’s soul,” she added piously.
    “That’s all? ” Pritchard asked.
    “Yes, that’s all,” Rose affirmed.
    “He said it was a great, shiny thing.”
    “Lewis doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Elijah said, making his voice as scathing as possible. “It isn’t as though he’s seen so many fancy jewels in his life.”
    “And you have, Corporal?” Farlow quirked an eyebrow at him.
    “No, sir, I have not. But I saw this one, and Mrs. Whelan is telling you the truth.” He hoped he sounded convincing.
    The lieutenant smiled. “Well, then. Keep that safe, Mrs. Whelan. It is a fine piece, and quite old, by the look of it.”
    “I will, sir,” she said, with meekness unusual for her, and the little procession began moving again.
    When they reached Farlow’s tent, Elijah carried Rose inside and got her safely tucked into the lieutenant’s narrow cot, with Jake curled against her, weary but determinedly awake. By the time they’d settled her belongings in a corner and agreed that Elijah and Farlow would sleep just outside, Luisa had fetched her pot of salve. She ruthlessly drove the men from her tent, pleading her patient’s modesty, and Elijah and the lieutenant obediently took their bedrolls and departed.
    * * *
    The burn hurt far worse than Rose had admitted to Lieutenant Farlow, but she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to