18
In the morning, Jean found the cook before he found her and they made bread and soup for the men to eat before they packed up and moved on. As she dished out the soup to the early risers, she was hoping Captain Morgan would be in the next camp waiting for her. The sun wasn’t up yet and the air was chilly, and when one of the men spoke to her it sent a shiver through her.
“Morning Jean gull, did you sleep all right last night?”
Jean recognized the voice; she looked up at the untidy Welshman in his late forties. His knowing smile said he was the man she made love to the previous night. Her eyes widened and she was almost afraid to ask.
“Tom, is it?”
“Aye, I be Tom Thomas, Jean gull.” He was staring at the t**s he had held onto during their encounter. “And this is Sergeant Evans,” his
