I took the letter from him and threw it into the fire. “People will say what they want. But it makes no difference to me.” I slipped my arms around his waist. “They aren’t the ones who have to live with the consequences of my decisions.”

On a particularly sunny day I found myself feeling restless. I wandered through the Farrapos’ camp, absentmindedly picking at a piece of sweet bread.

The camp was a hive of activity. Not just the men, who were busy with the tasks associated with maintaining an army, but the women as well. Many followed their men from camp to camp to tend to them. A group of women clustered together, their heavily painted faces cracked as they laughed and flirted with the men who passed by them. I couldn’t help but watch them as they jiggled and fell over themselves to gain attention.

“Anita.” I turned to find Ruthie approaching me, holding a basket with wet laundry to her wide hip. “I hope the cloth I gave you was helpful.” She wiped some stray black hairs from her face that had escaped her ponytail.

“Yes, it was. Thank you very much.”

She smiled up at me. “Walk with me. I’ll give you a small tour on our way back to the officers’ quarters.” Once we were away from the women, she turned to me. “Don’t let yourself be seen around women like that.”

“I wasn’t very close to them. I didn’t think.”

“It doesn’t matter. They are putas,” she hissed. “They find their way into camps like maggots. All they want is a warm meal and a warm body. Stay by the other wives, it’s safer.” I looked at the women over my shoulder. We weren’t all that different. I was reliant on someone else for my well-being too. Only, someone had deemed me respectable.

We were quiet as we walked through the busy camp. I watched as Ruthie greeted everyone she passed. No one seemed to care about her relationship like they did with José and me. They smiled and waved back at her, the respect Griggs commanded echoing in their movements. “Are you married to Griggs?” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, that was too intrusive.”

Ruthie smiled slightly. “It’s all right. We are not married, in the traditional sense.” She looked at me, blushing slightly. “Most of us aren’t married. It’s just easier to refer to ourselves as such.”

“I feel as if everyone knows about me, but what about you? How did you find yourself here? If you don’t mind me being so forward.”

Ruthie shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell. I was a servant for the Gonçalves family. Then John arrived and, well, that was that.”

“The family you served just let you go?”

“I’m not a slave.” She giggled. “I asked for my leave and they granted it. They knew I wanted to be with John, and Senhora Gonçalves wanted me to be happy.” Ruthie smiled; it was pleasant, hinting at some future dream. “Well, here we are at your tent. I should go hang these,” she said, motioning to her basket before walking away.