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somewhat to the north while she and Julian had determined to take these fellows on a southwestwardly trail which would bring them to an old Creek camp, where they could seek shelter until the fellows healed enough to return to the front. She’d been down to one change of clothing—a sad state of affairs if she were to look back—but now seemed the time for that change. Indeed, she would be close to home once they reached the Creek camp, and there might even be time for the indulgence of returning to Cimarron, and throwing herself into the gentle care of her mother, father, and other loved ones there—until she returned to the field to resume assisting her brother.
    “Miss Tia!”
    Jemmy’s voice came to her again. Ever more desperate.
    She had to think, to unfreeze .
    Her horse stood by her side, but her clothing lay on the opposite bank. She was soaking from head to toe, though she hadn’t yet had a chance to wash her hair, which waved down her back and shoulders like a sweeping black cape.
    The soldier would be in front of her any second.
    “Stop where you are. Get the men, and—go!” she ordered, her voice full of sudden authority.
    “Go?”
    “Yes, go! Get away quick. I’ll follow.”
    “We can’t leave you!” Jemmy said frantically.
    She heard him moving along the pine-carpeted path toward her. “Don’t you dare come closer, young man! Take our injured and move along. I know these trails better than any one of you, so get moving. I’ll see who comes, and circle around to join you on the trail.”
    “But Miss Tia—”
    “Damn you, listen to me. I gave you an order. Go!”
    She had no rank, of course. She wasn’t even in the militia. But if truth be told, she possessed the simple authority of all she had learned in years of helping to patch wounded men back together again, of learning when to strike and when to run. She’d been a very properly brought-up young woman when it all began, but though privileged, she’d been the child of what she considered to be enlightened parents. Her education had been thorough. She’d longed for more, for travel to far distant lands, a chance to view the great pyramids of Egypt, the castles in England, the palaces in France. Instead of those dreams, she’d spent years with men. Young men, old men, handsome, gallant, rude, charming, educated. And when the war came, she’d met them from every backwoods hole in the state. Rebs and Yankees. She’d seen them survive, and she’d seen them die. She’d sewn them up, and she’d bathed them down. She was far more familiar with male body parts than she’d ever imagined ...
    So in truth, she reasoned suddenly, slightly amused with the realization, she had some authority, much experience, but little modesty left.
    “Miss Tia, someone is coming quickly now.” Jemmy was standing there. So much for the question of modesty.
    “Yes, I know, Jemmy. If you please ... oh, never mind.”
    She rose, still indecisive. It wasn’t Jemmy’s fault. He was a boy, one who had lied regarding a few months to a year to get himself into the service—he wasn’t yet eighteen, she was certain. Not that she was so ancient herself, but as far as the war went, she was old, very old.
    Now, of course, he was staring at her, stunned. Of course. She was “buck” naked. But not really. She had very long hair, ebony in color, thick and lustrous. It fell over her shoulders, down her back—and her front—and blanketed the most strategic points of her form, she assured herself.
    And so she stood on the trail, thus enwrapped, and stared at the now frozen, gaping Jemmy. “First, snap your jaw shut, soldier, this is war. As you said, someone is coming fast. It is likely to be the enemy. And we have injured. So go now—and I mean it! You get our men to safety, and Blaze and I will be right behind you, once we see the enemy, and what he is after—and draw him away from you, if need be.”
    Jemmy suddenly seemed to find his mind and senses. “No!