“Lieutenant, I’m still hearing paper. Has she been properly searched?”
Lieutenant Lodge turned bright red, starting at the tips of his ears.
“Sir, I can’t… I don’t…” his voice trailed off.
“Well, Lieutenant, at least we can say with some certainty that she does not have a weapon or she certainly would have shot or stabbed somebody, by now. Probably you. I can’t understand most of what she says, even when she isn’t gagged, but she doesn’t seem overly fond of you.”
“I believe you may be correct, Sir. Although, in my defense, she doesn’t seem particularly fond of anybody.”
“Well, she will have to be searched.”
Sergeant MacKay stepped up “Sir, if I may, I think I have a solution.”
Fifteen minutes later he was back with his wife, a large, powerful Clydesdale of a woman, Irish to the core. And with them was one of the Trooper’s wives, a tall rawboned German woman.
Captain Darr herded the Troopers out but stopped Jeremiah when he tried to follow.
“Oh no. An officer has to be present when she’s searched, otherwise, a military court would consider evidence inadmissible.”
Before Jeremiah could object, he continued with no attempt to hide his grin. “And I’m afraid I have been called to confer with the Colonel in Wheeling, so I must be on my way.”
*****
Mary listened to the discussions outside her cell but was totally unprepared for the size of the two women who walked in.
She felt her visions of fighting her way free and dashing for freedom melting away.
The enormous red-haired woman took the lead, taking off Mary’s gag. “What’s your name, Dearie?”
When Mary didn’t say anything she tilted her head to the side a bit.
“Look, Dearie, we can do this any way you want, but it’s going ‘ta end the same. There’s no harm in telling us your name, we’ll find out soon enough no matter what. So come on, come out with it?”
“Mary.”
The Irish woman gently untied Mary’s feet and began untying her hands, speaking calmly and reasonably.
“Well isn’t that something? Me name’s Mary too. Irish Mary, they call me.” She chuckled for a moment. “Makes na sense to me. If’n you call for ‘Mary,’ in the street, near on every Irish girl will answer.” She shook her head in amusement. “My friend here is Bruna. Let’s just make this easy. Strip down to your underpinnings, and we’ll let the young gentleman out there examine your dress for more of your dispatches.”
The young Lieutenant who had arrested her was facing away from the makeshift cell, but his ears turned an even more brilliant red as Mary watched.
As the big woman began to pull her dress up over her head, Mary panicked, knowing exactly what they would find.
She bolted, tearing from their grip, and unfortunately, from her dress.
Out the cell door and toward…
“Stop her, she’s running!” The Irishwoman’s voice rang through the building.
The young cavalry officer leaped to block the single door out and found himself tangled up with a demon from hell. A demon wearing nothing but high button boots.
Jeremiah was simply mortified. He desperately sought a way to hold her still without touching anything… inappropriate.