Chapter 2
Mabel continued on throughout the tents and when she reached the last one, she noticed her feet had started hurting her. She also was gravely concerned about the men's lack of quality care. Many had simple injuries, surface bullet wounds that had gotten infected and were so badly so many were in danger of losing limbs. They were very preventable injuries with proper attention to the wound's care. She reached the last tent tired and frustrated, wishing she had joined the war effort sooner. It was there, only one cot was occupied. She was happy to find only the one patient there waiting. He was a man whose uniform was decorated with several different medals. He sat with his legs over the edge of the cot seemingly bored. He was studying a map that was of the general area and he held a pencil in his hand, he seemed to be plotting a course of some type.
Mabel entered the tent and cleared his throat to get his attention. “Ahem. Sorry if I interrupted you.”
“I don't see anything you interrupted. It's just me in here, talking to myself and the voices in my head about winning this forsaken war.”
“Oh.”
Mabel stepped over to him lightly. “I'm the new nurse. I'm here with the volunteer efforts.”
“Ah, well good. Just what we needed, more civilizations to protect along with our own.”
Mabel was shocked at his brashness and slightly taken aback, yet she undeterred by his attitude she proceeded to take her stethoscope out and listen to his heart and lungs. When she was finished taking the measurements she recorded them in her chart. “So tell me miss.. can you even fire a gun or are your delicate sensibilities upset by them?”
Mabel smiled and looked into his deep brown eyes. He was quite handsome and she was certain he was married, but saw no evidence of such. His brashness made her stomach turn with butterflies. “Actually. I could have shot you from the mess hall, had I the desire to. I'm quite adept with firearms and I am also quite versed with the particular distance limitations of certain types of rifle. So in short, I can take care of myself. Mabel by the way. There's no mister either, in case you're wondering, so you were correct. It's just Miss.”
Jacob's mouth gaped open at her boldness and then he smiled a broad grin. “Well it's good to meet you then, Mabel. I'm Jacob Taylor, I used to be in command of this unit before they deemed me sick. I caught a bullet that grazed the side of my head. I guess they're taking precautions, but I should be out there leading the way now that I've had proper time to strategize.”
“I'll be the judge of that. Let me see your head.”
She tilted his head to one side and looked at the bullet wound. It tore a clean opening across his scalp. He was fortunate as a few inches to the right and he definitely wouldn't have been alive to debate his own wellness. She took out a small penlight and shined it against the wound. She was pleased that there wasn't a huge deal of tearing. She then turned his head around and shined the light in his eyes, he followed the light easily and didn't seem to be terribly disoriented or confused. She was pleased with this prognosis. “Well... they certainly made the right call, putting you in sickbay. But with that said, I think you've made a remarkable recovery. I'm giving you two more days just to monitor that wound. So you better clean your rifles, now hotshot. You'll be back out there soon enough.”
Later on that night Mabel stretched out on her cot and elevated her swollen feet. She thought about the handsome young commander and the bravery and brashness flashing behind his brown eyes. She knew that he was deep and there must have been something driving him to win this war. She thought about how hard and muscled his body felt underneath his uniform and she recalled how charming his smile was. Mabel hadn't realized it, but she took in every detail of this complete stranger. With excited thoughts of seeing him the next day, her eyes drifted shut and despite the cannon fire and screams of combat in the distance, she slept peacefully with his image in her head.