Dear, Hamilton

I am mortified

I find myself agreeing with him, and I say, "Me, too."

Hamilton shifts a little in his seat as he suggests, "Perhaps a doctor knows a way to regain memories. Some sort of herbal medicine."

I roll my eyes. "I doubt that," I say to which he replies with a wordless shrug. 

"You never know," he replies casually, and with that our conversation is over. 

***

Our company soon merges into General Washington's army encamped outside New York City when we reach the camp. I'm instantly overwhelmed by the thousands of tents set up all around me for as far as I can see. I hear the banging of a hammer on an anvil and the sounds of men shouting orders in the midst of the camp. 

I lose Hamilton in the sea of men as we ride into the mass of tents via the main dirt road that runs straight through the camp. It looks to have been tramped into existence by hundreds of feet.

I had stopped temporarily to get my bearings, so I find myself herded like a sheep in a pasture into the mass of men located in the back of the company, all the other soldiers having continued forward.

I realize I am far from anyone I know, and panic blossoms in my chest as I look wildly around for a familiar face. The only people I know would be near the front of the company, except for Hamilton who was near the middle. 

I quickly get off my horse so I won't trample anyone, but I realize my mistake when I nearly get trampled by someone behind me. They step on the back of my shoe, and I nearly fall forward before I grab my horse's thick neck to keep myself balanced. I shoot a look over my shoulder to find the man who'd stepped on my foot is already replaced by another. 

I quicken my pace and attempt to get to the side of the main road so I can get out of this marching mass of men and find my bearings, but someone nearly runs me over again. Whatever happened to chivalry!

I start shoving men to the side so I can get over to the side of the road, but someone steps on my dress, and I stumble before free falling, having been unable to find my balance again. I watch as if in slow motion as the muddy ground loos closer and closer to my face as I fall. 

Suddenly, strong hands catch me and heave me upright before moving me quickly to the side and out of the crowd of the relentless, marching soldiers. I'm turned around and find myself face to face with Hamilton, who'd apparently doubled back to find me. 

"Thank goodness I found you," he says breathlessly, his features awash in relief. "I realized you weren't beside me anymore, so I doubled back, only to find you on the verge of being trampled." He touches my cheek gently as if to make sure I'm truly okay, and I smile assuringly. 

"I lost track of you when we entered the camp," I tell him, and when his face shadows with guilt, I add hurriedly, "Thank you for the help." 

He shakes his head as he replies in a self-deprecating tone, "It was my fault. I was too busy thinking about our nation's future and our failing economy that I didn't realize you'd become separated from me."

I say quickly, "Oh, no it wasn't your fault. I was the idiot who stopped and looked around in the middle of a road." 

He answers with a laugh before putting an arm around my shoulder and guiding me away from the main path. He leads us into the horde of tents. "Eliza, why do you always take the blame?" he asks with a grin. "It wasn't your fault." 

I roll my eyes playfully, knowing it is no use to argue this matter any longer.  We pass tent after tent. Soldiers mill outside several of the tents, either playing cards, talking amongst themselves, or just sitting there and watching people pass with a haunted, blank look in their eyes.