“Are you being insolent with me?”
Tim looked down at the captain’s sweat-streaked shirt. He turned to Sergeant Fitch. “Sergeant,” he said, controlling the anger in his voice, “you men look over your gear and report back to me.”
“Captain.” He turned. “Can I help you to a cup of coffee?”
Dawson put his hands on his hips and swayed a little, focusing his watery eyes on Tim. “Mind your manners, Lieutenant,” he said and turned and walked unsteadily away.
As soon as he’d gone Red staggered out of the tent. He put his hands on his hips, swayed back and forth and crossed his eyes. “Were you bein’ inshulent wi’ me?”
Tim grinned, reached out a long arm and pushed Red so hard that he staggered back and fell on the grass.
It wasn’t long before Sergeant Fitch came back with his boys. “Our rifles are clean and our gear is packed,” he said.
Tim stood up and kicked some sand into the fire. “Are your buttons nice and shiny so the Rebs can see them in the dark?”
“Like diamonds, sir.”
Corporal Steele was hanging back, but Tim could see that he was smiling. “Why don’t you boys sit down for a while?”