Chapter 10: A Woman in Training Part 2

The second and last group of militiamen returned for the day at sundown. Like the first group, they looked exhausted and famished. The meal for supper was the leftover meat they had for lunch with each man's tavern food they brought personally for themselves, or something their wives had given them if they were married.

To save space and an extra plate to the dirty dishes she will help with alongside her fatigue and cramps, Victoria nibbled on some meat from Gabriel's plate as she stared bored into the fire. Everything that had to be done was completed this morning, and tomorrow would be her busiest day yet firing a gun… well, musket, for the first time…

Eventually Gabriel had left his spot next to her to return his plate leaving John Billing's with her.

After the young man left the area, John Billings leaned towards the fire and motioned a finger for Tillie's attention.

"I was told that you ran off a bit upset earlier 'bout something Skunk said," Billings told her. "He meant nothing bad he told me."

Victoria sighs resting an elbow on her knee as her right hand goes into her hair trying to find some comfortable position. "I know. It reminded me of something someone close to me once said. It caught me off guard is all… because we were looking through all the supplies." She wasn't going to tell him about her late husband, it was too personal.

The man nods his head, rubbing his hands close to the fire's heat out of boredom. "I'll let him know. He wanted to keep his distance from 'ya."

She looks off into the fire, "Please tell him I'm sorry too, it was rude of me to do that."

"He won't bat an eyelash. When tomorrow comes maybe you'll find more comfort here after training."

"I hope so. It's definitely an adjustment." Victoria looks up from the fire and gives the friendly man a soft smile who returns one of his own understandingly. "And with that adjustment, much needed rest. I'll have to go do dishes before retiring for the night."

"Don't worry about tomorrow at all," Billings mentions as she stood up from her log seat. "Major Villeneuve will work with each of y'all patiently. He spotted all our weaknesses."

Victoria crossed her arms in front of her chest uncomfortably at that thought. Sure, Billings meant weaknesses in their shooting skills or something… but she couldn't shake the nervous inkling that Major Jean would read her every thought and breath like that Colonel William Tavington…

"Thank you for the heads up, sir. Have a goodnight," Victoria bids farewell to Billings, mentally slapping herself for thinking such a thought of Jean! Oh Tilly, shame on you for even thinking of him by his first name! She berates herself. He is nothing like Tavington and certainly wouldn't do those things or intimidate her.

With that thought, Major Jean had walked past her with his same confident strut he never ceases to do with open pride, and a humble confidence. The glint of the dark orange sun glittering above the treetops shines down on every angle of the Frenchman's body, especially his silver hair appearing dark gray and even streaks of youthful, healthy brown hair untouched by time.

The man is a strapping one despite his age, possibly close to Benjamin's. His face had been shaven this morning but by evening when he returned, the stubble was growing in thickly. He looks rugged yet strapping and still immaculate in his officer uniform.

His gaze strayed over to his left as he walked past her right, nodding to her without his hat on or in his hands for once, "Madame. Rest well." That was all as he continued past her and went to join John Billings. She nearly had no time to respond as they were both heading to their point of destination.

"You as well, Major…" Victoria trailed off looking back at the Major who had heard her kindness and simply waved a hand in the air in appreciation, not looking back himself. She shrugged, going to do her duty for the night before heading to sleep in her tent. She was eager to wake up in a timely manner to prepare herself and disguise just right.

It would be the day to prove her fundamental place in this militia.


Morning the next day came quick. She blinked once as the dark, swamp air crept in through the flap, then after opening her eyes it was light as bright it could be, which wasn't a lot in this 'hellhole'. The Spanish Mission is the perfect hideout from the rest of the world. The swamp maples and willows form a canopy over the moss-covered mound and pools of plant choked water. It's almost as if there was no sense of time here due to it being tucked away.

Only hearing slight boot scuffs along the ground, she knew she woke up at an opportune time. Out of her bag she pulls out her hand mirror and props it against the solid tree trunk right behind her tent's tarp. She raises an index finger to perfectly scrape the sleep from the corners of her eyes, then she reaches for her comb to brush out the knots of her long brown hair. Smoothing it out, her locks curve in natural waves on their own, happy to be free of an up-do for some time. Her scalp feels greasy but healthy since her roots weren't pulled up.

Why it's bold and immodest for women's hair to be worn down is because natural and long hair is utterly feminine, and the crowning glory of a woman. It being loose of all ties and pins to cascade down one's back was reserved for one's husband, at night. It's sensual and intimate; a kind of nudity meant only for your beloved. However, in deep South Carolina and small Charles Town, hair can be loose to some degree due to everyone's laid back beliefs, lack of Northern wealth, or even status. In some regard, seeing a woman with some of her hair down was fitting in the south's society because of the humidity in the air. Big hair is taken seriously in all parts of the world, Victoria was aware of, and in South Carolina if that means wearing it down to show it off, then by all means it was not as brazen as the North would view it as.

But just for this morning she will be tying it back into an un-braided plait as Ben would and adorning her hat once she reaches her destination to get used to wearing it while shooting.

Wearing her same clothes as the day before, she takes off her white hunting shirt to apply the bandages, but Ben's voice behind her startles her.

"Oh Lord!" Ben shuts her tent flap after catching her half nude. He had only seen her side that was exposed. He kneeled down and told her from outside the tarp. "Tillie, just wanted to let you know that you don't need bindings today. It's only practice and no one should happen upon y'all."

"Alright. Thanks," she squeaks out, her hand still slapped over her mouth as she blushes madly. "Knock three times against the tree next time maybe…"

"…Will do." Ben hesitated at first. When she heard his footsteps fade away back into the direction of his area, she proceeded to throw on her white hunting shirt. This time over it, she takes out white cotton stays with steel boning Charlotte had packed away for her. With Victoria's already small waist and thin frame, the stays slipped over her head with ease. Lastly, she ties the shoulder ribbons into bows, and reaches behind her back for the end of the ribbons to tighten the stays to her form.

Glancing one last time for the day at her comfortable feminine outfit for once except for the dark breeches, her delicate shoulders are drawn back with shoulder straps and the hunting shirt almost seemed like a nightgown cut in half. She felt and looked like a warrior… like Joan of Arc in the painting her family had at their estate. Shaking her head at the beautiful memory, she slipped on her boots, grabbed her cloak and crawled out her tent to a stand.

It took the new morning air to blow into her face to feel how oily her skin is. So, reaching back into her tent, she grabs her canteen and dumps some water in the palm of her hand to splash on her face. The refreshing feeling soothing all of her nerves and worries. Patting it dry with her cloak, she meets the eyes of Major Jean Villeneuve standing outside of his tent three feet away from hers, watching her.

Jean wasn't going to lie that he felt his heart jump at the sight of Victoria in clean white much like himself, and stays that show off her womanhood. Her bronzed face shining like a goddess' face would from the water that just washed across it.

"Good morning, madame." Jean cleared his throat to greet her, returning a small smile he couldn't help when she smiled brightly at him politely. Never has he smiled since the death of his wife and daughters six months ago in March of 1778. It's still a hard reality to accept that life and his duty must go on. He needs to look after only himself now and focus on the war they need to win.

"Good morning Major." She replies turning away and walking off with purpose in her oversized boots. The sight nearly making Jean chuckle.


"Whoa! What is she doing?" A young man questioned right off the bat once Victoria had mounted her horse, none of them even leaving the swamp yet. It was the man she saw the polite Nicholas Sampson befriend.

"Yeah, shouldn't she be cleaning this place while we're gone?" A man by the name of Dan Scott responded. She learned of his name as they cleaned dishes before sleep. The same man who had told her to stay out the way had told her she wasn't using enough soap to clean the plates.

"What's there to clean after our first two nights?" Victoria retorts aloud with a scowl startling everyone with her outspoken tone. "We already bathe ourselves with the dirty swamp water. Cleaning an island with it won't do any justice."

"Ye!" A man hollered out that she thinks was Rollins unexpected voice agreeing with her. She was getting familiar with recognizing everyone quick, thankfully. Though names are still to be placed and remembered. Some older men she may never come to know as they keep their distance.

"She's not to be left alone unless he orders her to stay put." Jean carefully placed his cockade on his head, swinging up onto his horse while simply bobbing his head to Benjamin. "And if there's wounded," he adds.

Victoria smirks to herself seeing the extra musket Jean had secured on the back of his horse for her to use during training.

"Then what if there's no wounded?" Dan Scott's disappointment in his tone apparent. "She travels with us?"

"What part of not alone do you not understand?" Jean calls behind him in the sea of people on horses, finally laying his eyes on Dan Scott wear the voice came from. "We're all to be on the field today."

With no other word from Dan they were already moving out. Others conversing with one another in mumbles while Victoria caught the man's withering gaze to which she only shrugs.

Sometime during their cross through the swamp water, Rollins rides up beside her and asks a question.

"You're doing this to get more pay, aren't you?"

Her face snaps to his knowing, narrowed eyes in surprise. But he wasn't being argumentative.

"Yes, one of the reasons at least." She replies short and simple, holding tightly to her horse's reins.

"Smart." He comments before adding under his breath as he leaned over in his saddle, ushering his horse closer to be closer to her face; so close she could see all of his skin blemishes, cuts from shaving, and scars clearer. It may even be scars from a case of smallpox long ago that forever damaged his face. "But if you think any of these pretty boy's would be good husbands, then you're wasting time."

Victoria blushed but couldn't hold back laughter as he said this.

"I promise you, Mr—" He interrupted her as he pulled back onto his horse, the water lapping all around them from everyone's horse in the water.

"Samuel Rollins. Just call me Samuel or Rollins."

"Then I promise you, Samuel, that is not why I'm here. Certainly not any of the reasons why I'm here." She keeps her mouth shut after that and focuses on the solid ground ahead that's somewhere past the thick fog.


Camden Farmhouse- General Lord Cornwallis' Fort.

"It skirts the mountain and extends down towards the headwater here right across the far bank of the…" Cornwallis trails off in his speaking to General O'Hara when he looks up to the sound of a soldier's boots and rattling sabre stepping into the room. The soldier being Colonel Tavington with hands folded behind his back in courtesy. He comes to a halt before Cornwallis' table holding maps and battle strategies.

"…Ohio River…" Cornwallis continued, not regarding Tavington just yet. "It's 100,000 acres."

"It's an imposing land grant my lord," General Charles O'Hara beams with pride. "You will be a country unto yourself."

"His Majesty's most generous my lord," Tavington compliments, easing his way into the ending conversation. After all he was called to be in his quarters at this time. Of course, it'd be the unspoiled General O'Hara hogging the man's attention and practically kissing his rear end. He was nothing but a lap dog and did none of the dirty work.

Tavington caught O'Hara's leer aimed at him and cynically narrowed his icy eyes back at him. The Colonel is sure to add in compliment to his Lord General. "Though, your service in this war more than warrants such a gift."

Cornwallis bows his head to O'Hara in departure, and now regards Tavington as he waits for the doors to shut behind O'Hara.

"This is how His Majesty rewards those who fight for him as gentlemen," Cornwallis clarifies to Tavington.

The Colonel straightens his posture, but not at all in pride, but in humble confidence, "I don't presume I'd be rewarded with my contribution one day."

"You presume too much," Cornwallis' response catches Tavington off guard. The Butcher's heart sinks a little, not understanding his words. "His Majesty, like history, judges us not by the outcome of the war, but in the manner in which it was fought."

"My lord?"

"Serve the crown and we must conduct ourselves accordingly," Cornwallis explains in a raised tone as he walks across the glossy, wooden floorboards to his desk of letters and papers. "Surrendering troops will be given quarter and unwarranted assaults on civilians will cease. These brutal tactics must stop!"

"Is it not enough, my lord, that I have never lost a battle?" Tavington inquires in bafflement. His ice-blue eyes growing defensive as if he were arguing with his father.

"You serve me and the manner in which you serve me reflects upon me!" Cornwallis stresses in his seat. Then, his voice level drops to softer tenor as well as his manner, "I would have thought a gentleman from a family as esteemed as yours would understand that."

Tavington swallows before responding, holding the man's eye contact but his own were beginning to water being put on the spot. "My late father squandered the esteem in which we were held along with my inheritance." He gathers himself as the fleeting image of watching his hand raise to shoot the lovely young Victoria in the arm, a woman he hardly knew and acted foolishly brutal that day. It was a lesson he had said, but truly it was an accident. He could not believe he would stoop so low, nor bring himself to apologize—as the gentleman he is—before she was taken off by one of his slain dragoon officers.

Her outspoken words to himself, an esteemed Colonel, then her state of distress, fear, and anger overwhelmed him that he was the cause of it. He had come across the rumored, unwed Jewel of Philadelphia and grazed her innocent arm. Then that innocent, stupid boy…

He shut his eyes briefly before reopening them, finding some tears had formed in the corners of his eyes.

"I advance myself only through victory," Tavington exclaims in truth, forcing a smile.

"You advance yourself only through my good graces," Cornwallis surprises him with his stern orders. "These colonials are our brethren and when this conflict is over, we will be reestablishing commerce with them. Do you understand, Colonel?"

Tavington's smile had fallen away like a thin blade of grass to a flame, his face stoic yet conflicted. "Perfectly, my lord."


The recoil of the long, heavy musket pushed back at Victoria's right shoulder with more force than she expected. Since she didn't prep this much for it, she visibly cringed and let out a low hiss. It was only when she thought of where she was grazed by a bullet did the pain subconsciously drift to there, thus making it feel like her arm was shot once more. I must not be paranoid… she repeats in her mind.

"Too rough for 'ya to handle?" Danvers had quipped. A handsome, clean Pembroke man with luscious dark, shoulder length hair. He would've been mistaken for an Indian if it weren't for his lighter skin color. However, his treatment towards her isn't so warm and friendly.

"Not as easy as it looks sugarpie."

Victoria huffs incessantly because of the weight of the musket, tenderness of her arm, and the man trying to get under her skin. Every other man was near her or around her, but they were in their own conversations while reloading their muskets, or they were speaking with Major Jean.

"I have shot before, but not with one of these. Most of you haven't either," she spoke back to only him. The man kept silent when Jean walked past him and went up to the only woman present, who wasn't in disguise just yet.

"Is your arm faring well, madame?" He asks in all seriousness as an officer would. Hatless, his greying hair blows back like waves of the sea lapping in the wind, and his dominant hand rests on the sheathed hilt of his sabre. "The recoil will not faze you in the future. If it helps, keep some padding on your shoulder if it irritates your healing arm."

"It's doing better. No pain no gain, though, Major?" she responds with a faint smile. Strands of her hair had fallen loose of the tie and now frames the sides of her face and blows in all directions.

"True." Jean outright smirks and nods his head at an angle, looking up at the sky with rejuvenation before shouting one last order to them all. "No let me see this entire row, fire on my mark, one last time! If there is no pain, there is no gain!"

Victoria squeezed her lips shut, trying to hold back a smile at him using her words, and glancing to the right to look at the man who heckled her, now sheepish and concentrating on refilling his musket.


One other morning, they were out on a secure, vacant field so early that it was still dark out, and the fog was even treading along the land. Storm clouds were beginning to form overhead. Victoria silently prayed for her bandages to not be ruined by the rain seeping through her clothes.

"I want accuracy and precision," Jean walked past them all with a brandished sabre and nodding to Victoria on the end confidently before turning to face straight. The two lines of the militia and each of the persons in their proper place to fire evenly. After a long, half a week of constant reloading and firing, moving quick, silent, and hiding, they were just about to finish training.

Victoria was sore on every part of her body moving muscles she had no idea she had. The chaotic events of Ben's farm burning down and her running, then taken and pulled up and off horses by Tavington's men did not even prepare her for this.

"Make ready! Take aim!" In harmony, the wood of the guns clanged when they were risen and leveled straight. The line in the back had theirs in between the heads of the people in front of them.

"Fire!"

The loud firing made Victoria's right ear grow silent for some seconds, her left ear ringing from Jean's high-pitched yell. The smoke blew back in her face when she fired with the rest of them. The recoil not affecting her as much as before, but the weight of this 10lb. musket is like holding a heavy baby out straight. A woman with even the greatest upper body strength can hardly do that for long periods of time. But she's adapting.

She concludes to herself that she'll just have to be that woman and get used to it. Once the smoke cleared could they all see the bullet holes in the fake, stuffed-British soldiers, and a raised timber log meant to signify a line of troops behind them.

Lining up where she shot, she believes she made her mark, but looking further up she saw a hole that only a musket raised so high could achieve. Victoria didn't have to look behind her to see Skunk grinning at her back.

"Excellent," Jean praised with a stiff nod of his head. "That's all I wanted to see; we are through for the day. We return to the Mission and this afternoon is our first attack. This was to prepare us for an unanticipated attack. Colonel Martin will advise further." With that being said, Jean nods his head to Benjamin who was sitting atop his horse, having watched the last part of training.

"I'll advise when we return and head out after that. That was very good everyone," Benjamin comments, nodding his head glancing at everyone including his son. He looks away proudly as he turns his horse around and treads back into the shallow swamp water.

Once he had, some of the men were yipping and hollering with fists raised in the air. They were in glee to be done with training and able to shoot with some damn good precision. They also couldn't wait to finally kill some redcoats. But many of the men got silent either in fear, or with vengeful faces of their own, thirsty for bloodshed.


It turned out that Rollins had spotted a troop camping on the Santee River in his hunt during the middle of the night. They were all woken up early to head in their direction to ambush them.

Victoria placed her hat on her head with a nervous breath and adrenaline coursing through her. But not mounting her horse yet, still waiting for Benjamin to announce their departure and him to mount, she sees Skunk walk up to her. He pulls his horse beside him that's as big as he is.

"Hope I didn't make you worried if whether I'd shoot your ear off or not," the man remarks, pausing all movement next to her.

Victoria looks up at an exhausted Skunk, his face drooping like a willow and jaw tense, but his tired eyes fought to hold some of its usual sprightly attentiveness she has seen him with.

"Not this time. Besides, I'm much too short and below your line of sight with any raised gun," she replies with politeness, but not her usual smile. He hasn't been on her most-trusted list so far, but yet, every now and then, he makes these small efforts to get her attention and find some excuse to converse when it's only them two for the briefest of moments. Even if it's only been a week? Well, half a week.

In short, she has no idea what the man is thinking or what he thinks of her.

"Much to short my arse," he gives her a toothy grin, immediately making her tense up for all the good and wrong reasons at what he says next. "You got some legs on you sweetheart. Getting up on that horse and marching with us, I apparently see what you don't."

"That would be because you're tall," She moved to come to a stand where her head was level with his chest and half his upper arm. "Here I thought my long legs were everything but and a disadvantage."

Skunk made to reply something forward, but something made him think twice of it. Sure enough, he saw a flicker of recognition cross her face when she noticed his playfulness come forth, but vanishing just like that.

"They carried you this far. Not a disadvantage at all," he gathered up the words to say. His throat feeling dry as he soon felt uncomfortable being this sincere.

"Well, thank you for not blowing my ear off, or my head for that matter," she tried to joke but he didn't take it. He looked annoyed as Gabriel would which surprised her.

"Pleasure," he grumbled out when he turned away and left with his horse to the end of the Mission. He doesn't seem to take thanks very well.

Victoria was left in confusion on why he was suddenly frustrated.

"Um... thank you, and you too," she made sure he heard in return, but he made no sign that he had.

Before she knew it, it was time to mount their horses and ride out the way they came in the first day. Side by side with Billings behind Gabriel and Rollins, their large militia left the Mission behind not knowing if they would return, or who would return alive.


A/N: Finally some progress! And how about Tavington's appearance in this chapter? Despite not liking him (though he is good looking), I felt that scene for him was important and brought out his sensitive humanity. He regrets shooting Victoria! However, I did realize what he is after in this film, and after seeing some deleted scenes of him, I found that he has a 'good' side somehow, just the cruelty of war and life got to him. He had a bad relationship with his parents just like Victoria had with hers... Interesting. I seriously did not plan on that common ground.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading if anyone still is, I know this fandom is rather old now. I hope you all are looking forward to what's next! I'll be updating as soon as I can once I finish some university essays and work.

-BrownEyedGirl87