Highland Soldiers: The Enemy by J. L. Jarvis Page A

said the soldier, “You dinnae want to go there.”
    “Yes, I do, and I want you to tell me.” She looked frantically at him. “Please, I’ve got to find someone.”
    He reluctantly nodded his head toward the surgery, and watched with concern as she walked away.
    Mari found it and the discarded limbs. With each wounded man that she spied, she half hoped and half dreaded that it would be Callum. There were so many. When she decided she must have seen every man wounded, she leaned on a tree, and then turned toward it to hide the weeping.
    When she’d had a good cry, she took a deep bracing breath and continued her search. When Callum’s tent was empty, she went back toward Nellie’s in hope that someone might have returned there. The sounds of battle, long abated, had been replaced by sounds of grief mixed with sounds of men drinking to ease their minds of the visions of battle. Nellie’s tent was empty. She stood staring, weighed down by an aching dread. She sank down on a stool, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.
    “Mari.”
    “Aye?” Without thinking, she answered and then jerked her head up to find Callum standing before her.
    “Mari, love, if it’s not a bother, could you give me some help?” He was smiling.
    Only then did she notice him leaning on a crutch fashioned out of a tree branch with a uniform jacket wrapped around the end under his arm.
    “Aye! Put your arm around me.”
    “If you insist,” he said, grinning, then wincing from pain.
    He hobbled over to the cot in the tent. Mari propped him up on pillows. “What happened? How bad is it? Have you seen a surgeon? I’ll go find someone.” She got up, but he grasped her wrist.
    “Sit here by me.”
    “But you’re hurt.”
    He pressed his fingers to her lips until she was quiet, and then took both of her hands in his. “It’s not bad. I took a musket ball to the leg. Shh, love. It only grazed it. Yes, I’ve seen a surgeon. There, have I answered your questions?” Her concern made him smile.
    Relieved to find Callum, Mari took in the sight of him. Suddenly she thought of his men. “Where are they?”
    “They’re a wee bit scraped up, but we suffered no losses. We’re a fierce lot, you ken.”
    Mari studied the hands that held hers. A tear fell on Callum’s hand.
    “What’s this?” he asked as he wiped tears from her cheeks.
    Alex strode in with his arm bandaged up. “Och, Mari! Look at you—wasting your tears on that one, when I’ve got real wounds that need tending. See here? I’ve got this wee scratch on my arm!”
    Nellie was next to return with Hughie and Charlie on each side. “It’s a good day. My lads are all safe.”
    “But where is Duncan?” Mari asked.
    Nellie suppressed disapproval. “He had plans. I’ve learned not to ask that lad anything.”
    The rest of them shared a meal and some laughter. While Mari and Nellie were cleaning up from supper, Callum called Hughie over and sent him off on an errand. When he returned, Nellie took his arm and the two of them went for a walk.
    “What is it?” asked Mari, fully aware they had not been left alone by mere chance.
    “Come sit by me, Mari,” he said, as he reached out his hand. She pulled a stool close beside the cot in which he sat propped up, with his injured leg stretched out straight. He clasped her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Have you thought of what we will do after this?”
    “I’ve not had time to think, yet.”
    “Well I have,” Callum said.
    “Have you now? I thought you seemed a wee bit busy today,” she said, smiling.
    While he smiled back, it soon faded. Mari watched him, concerned.
    “Lass, I ruined you—taking you away as I did.” Before she could protest, he said, “Perhaps not in fact, but in people’s eyes.”
    “Callum, if you’ll recall, I was ruined already.”
    He went on without giving credence to what she had said. “I have taken you from your home and the people who love you. And the people you love.”
    “Aye,