Ashes by Laurie Halse Anderson

we can’t find each other? What if–”
    â€œTrust me,” he said, his eyes scanning the crowd.
    I was puzzled about his sudden shift of mood and confused about his intentions. “What are you scheming?”
    â€œIn search of work, nothing more,” he protested, his eyes still not meeting mine. “It’ll be easier for us to move about without lasses attached.”
    And with that, he disappeared into the crowd, with Aberdeen at his heels.

CHAPTER XVI

Sunday, September 9, 1781
    T HE INCREASE OF OUR S ICK WITHIN THESE F EW DAYS PAST . . . MAKES ME ANXIOUS TO STATE TO YOUR E XCELLENCY OUR SITUATION WITH RESPECT TO B LANKETS; THE H OSPITAL IS ENTIRELY WITHOUT THIS A RTICLE . . .
    â€“L ETTER FROM J AMES C RAIK, CHIEF HOSPITAL PHYSICIAN OF THE C ONTINENTAL ARMY TO G EORGE W ASHINGTON ABOUT CONDITIONS IN THE W ILLIAMSBURG HOSPITAL
    I WAS SO SHOCKED BY the sudden turn of events, I stood there like a statue as Thomas Boon pawed at the ground and bared his teeth at a soldier who brushed too close.
    Did they just leave us here? In the middle of two armies?
    â€œI have to go!” Ruth called.
    The urgency in her voice recollected me to myself. We had to get away from all these uniformed fellows.
    â€œCome, Thomas.” I dragged the reluctant beast to the right and down the rough path between two rows of tents. A number of French soldiers smiled and nodded at us. One even bowed in Ruth’s direction. I paused to look at her with a stranger’s eyes. Her face was both delicate and strong, and her form was that of a woman, tho’ she was in many ways a child.
    â€œIgnore those men,” I warned her. “Those are alligator smiles.”
    She frowned and shifted anxiously on the seat of the cart.
    â€œAnd stop that,” I said. “You’ll get a splinter in your backside.”
    â€œI need a privy,” she said. “Or a bush.”
    I pulled harder on Thomas Boon’s rope. The donkey seemed determined to move as slow as possible. Ruth gave a little moan and gritted her teeth. We were all three of us in misery until we made our way clear of the French encampment and reached the large brick building. As we went around the back of it, a tall woman, yellow haired and pink faced, came out a door carrying a basket overflowing with stained linens. When she caught sight of us, she set the basket on the ground.
    â€œYou certainly took your time,” she said with a frown.
    Ruth bounced up and down on the seat, eyes desperate.
    â€œPardon me, ma’am,” I started. “It’s just that my sister needs–”
    â€œMister Wickham contracted for a full-size wagon. Do those women not know how much washing we have here? Dozens of lads puking. Half of ’em are French and I can’t understand one word. But they puke same as our boys.”
    â€œPlease, ma’am,” Ruth interjected. “Privy?”
    The woman jerked a thumb at a small building just visible beyond a well-trimmed boxwood hedge. Ruth scrambled off the cart, limping toward her goal as fast as she could.
    â€œMany apologies for her rude tone,” I said.
    The privy door slammed behind Ruth, startling a flock of sparrows that had been hiding in the hedge.
    The woman grunted. “We’ve all been in a similar state, one time or another. Ten thousand lads make these matters even more difficult than they normally are.”
    From the large building came a great roar of pain, suddenly extinguished.
    â€œPoor sod,” she muttered.
    â€œIs this the hospital?” I asked.
    She looked me over and then the donkey and the cart. “Not from here, are you?”
    â€œNewly arrived.” I met her gaze briefly. My toes curled in my boots. Was she good-hearted or evil? You could not tell that just by looking at the outside of a person, that was a sad truth. I crossed my fingers for luck in the folds of my skirt. “We’re here to work but still learning our way