"Well, now that his fever has broken, I do not see any reason to delay. General Grant has offered his train car to carry him. That will make it easier. And I think you would be much happier to have him at home than here."
"Of course I would. I hope being home will help him get better quickly, too. Em will be so excited to have him home. It is going to be difficult to make her understand that time with Papa will be limited at first."
"You realize he will have to be unconscious for literally the entire trip? And that Em may be very frightened when her papa is as incapacitated as her mama was?"
"I know, but Charlie is going to get better. Constance never had that chance."
Elizabeth thought for a moment. She had seen serious depression set in after major injuries before, and was concerned that Charlie might be inclined toward it. "Rebecca, there is something else you may have to deal with."
"Yes?"
"It is not uncommon for men who have been very badly injured to become terribly melancholy. They may feel their injuries make them somehow less than they were. I have seen them literally turn their faces to the wall. I pray that Charlie will not go that way, but I wanted to warn you."
"I think, unfortunately, it would be very easy for Charlie to do that, but I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening. I only hope I am enough."
"Then I will see if I can arrange for the train car for tomorrow."
--*--
Tuesday, April 25, 1865
T
he next morning was hellish. Elizabeth and Samuelson needed to stay with the regiment; there were too many injured men to care for to allow them to leave with Charlie. Whitman, as a civilian volunteer, chose to go with the General and his wife; however, he was in deep mourning over Lincoln’s death and the frightening rumors that were circulating as a result of that terrible act. Duncan, because he was already on injury leave and Jocko, whose duty was to stay with his General, managed the logistical details.
Every thing that could be draped with mourning banners showed black. Every man in the regiment wore a black armband. Even the train car had black bunting draped on its handrails. The entire army had gone into mourning for Lincoln.
Elizabeth had prepared Charlie as well as she could. He was carefully strapped to his cot, and heavily sedated. The men of the regiment had taken turns hand carrying his stretcher to keep from jostling the injured man.
The Doctor had less success in preparing Rebecca. She was shaken at how pale Charlie was in the light of day, and how thin he had become in the days since his injury. His good hand, once wiry and strong, lay on the gray blanket looking almost skeletal and nearly transparent.
"Elizabeth, do you think it is safe to take him home? I am not sure he is strong enough; maybe we should wait another day or so."
Elizabeth looked at Charlie critically, and then turned to Rebecca. "I honestly think he will be better off in a real bed, in a proper room and with good food, and tender care than he will here in a tent with a dirt floor, in an army camp that is rapidly becoming a refugee center. Take him home, Rebecca. He needs to be there and so do you."
Rebecca nodded, and then embraced her friend. "Thank you for everything. I know he would not be alive now if it were not for you. Promise me you will come as soon as you can."
"Absolutely –– the very first minute I can get away from here, I will. And I believe you and I have a wedding to plan. I am just sorry Richard could not be here to see you off."
"Give him my love and thank him as well." With a deep sigh she turned and allowed Jocko to help her aboard the train.
Duncan was sitting at the far end of the car, beside the bed they had set up for Charlie, already positioned to watch over the heavily drugged man. The sling he wore to cradle his injured arm made things awkward, but he had braced himself to keep Charlie stable while the train jerked as it started. Whitman was sitting at the table in the middle of the car, with a pencil in hand and a notebook open before him, mumbling "my captain, my captain" to himself.
Jocko settled Rebecca in a soft chair, kneeling in front of it. "Miss Rebecca, I want to say that I know things are not going to be easy with getting Gen’l Charlie back up on his feet, but I promise you, I will do whatever may be required to see to it."
"Thank you, Jocko. I know I can count on you. Charlie and I need our friends close to us right now."
"I wired ahead to Major Byrnes to have transport waiting for us when we get in. And I warned him of how badly injured the General is. He has a team of men who have volunteered to carry him home, and a carriage will be waiting for you. I think carrying Charlie will be less stressful for him than bouncing around in the back of a wagon."
Rebecca glanced at Charlie, who was indeed sleeping soundly. "He inspires great loyalty."
"He does indeed. There are many men in this and his previous regiments who are alive because of what he does. He takes care of his men first, and they will take care of him."
Rebecca stood, patting Jocko's shoulder as she did. Taking a moment to get the movement of the train, she walked to Charlie and took Duncan's place at her husband's side. She took his good hand and leaned over, placing a kiss on his forehead. "We will be home soon, darling."
A particularly hard lurch tossed the car a bit to the side, and Charlie groaned in pain, even through the laudanum-induced stupor.
Rebecca stood and covered his chest gently with her own body, to give him a feeling of being protected. "It is all right, my love, you are going to be fine." She placed a kiss on his cheek, allowing her lips to linger for a moment.
The trip continued, a hell for Rebecca, with each hard lurch or stop bringing a groan of pain from Charlie. Yet the drugs kept him too sedated to talk, or to even acknowledge her presence. By the time they reached Culpeper, six hours later, Rebecca was emotionally and physically exhausted. Shortly before they arrived, Whitman gave Charlie another dose of laudanum to ease the painful transition from the train to Redmond Stables and his own bed.
--*--
C
harlie’s men had carried his litter home, in a relay over the course of the three miles from the station to the house. They knew the slow, steady pace of walking would be less traumatic for him that being moved in a wagon. Arriving at the house, Rebecca allowed the men in the last relay to carry Charlie up the stairs to their room.
As soon as they had been seen coming, the house was alive with people. They immediately overwhelmed Rebecca. She ordered the troopers upstairs and sent Jocko and Whitman to settle Charlie into bed; they were the only ones she could trust.
As she watched them take him upstairs, she was immediately besieged by the staff and Emily.
"Mama!"
Rebecca smiled through her own exhaustion and knelt down to greet her daughter. "Hello, my little darling."
"Mama home." Em wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s neck, gracing her with a kiss to the cheek."
"Yes. Mama is home. Home to stay."
"Papa?" Em looked expectantly behind Rebecca and then around the room. "Papa?"
"Papa is upstairs."
"Em go!" She turned and started the effort of getting up the steps when Rebecca caught her and sat on the step with her. She pulled Em into her lap and then looked to Beulah, Tess, Lizbet, Ginny and Reg who were all waiting expectantly for information. When the train had arrived draped in black, a rider had rushed to the house and told everyone that Miss Rebecca was back but that the General must be dead.
"Emily, your Papa is very sick."
"No. Papa well."
"Em, I am sorry, but Papa is very sick."
At that moment, Em burst out crying. "Papa die!"
"No, no, Papa is not going to die, but he needs time to get well."
"Mama sick. Mama die. Papa sick. Papa die."
The look on the little girl’s face was tearing Rebecca up. She wanted to take Em up and prove to her that Charlie would be all right, but at the moment she was not entirely sure of that herself. "Em, has Mama ever lied to you?"
"No."
"I am not going to start now. Papa will be fine, but he needs to rest. I promise, I will take you to see him as soon as I can." Tears filled Rebecca’s eyes, partly from fear and partly from exhaustion. She was simply too tired to think clearly. "Em, Mama needs to change. Go with Tess and we will go see Papa later when he has had a chance to rest."
Em looked into her Mama’s face and knew it would be best if she did what she was asked. She sensed now might not be the time to have a fit. "Yes, Mama."
Rebecca kissed her daughter and handed her off to Tess. "How are the boys?"
"Fine, Miss Rebecca." Ginny stepped forward. "They are just fine. Sleeping."
"Thank goodness for that." She addressed all of them. "I need to go see to the General. I will be down later to tell you everything."
She stood and headed up the steps, with her staff watching every tired step. They were worried about their mistress. She looked as though she had been through hell. It was obvious that she had not slept properly and that she had not been eating, and had not had a proper bath in a very long time. Lizbet looked to her family then back up the steps. "Miss Rebecca, please wait. Let me come help you." And with that the young woman was up the steps right behind Rebecca.
--*--
Wednesday, April 26, 1865
V
ery slowly, Charlie woke. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton batting, every part of his body ached, and it felt as if the devil himself was roasting his entire right side. It seemed to him that the field hospital had become far more comfortable than he remembered from the past. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. He realized he was lying in his own bed, on the side that Rebecca usually slept on. "My God, I cannot be home. This must be a dream. A horrible dream." He spoke aloud, trying to break out of this terrible, painful dream.
Jocko spoke from the chair he was sitting in by the window on the far side of the bed. "It is no dream, Gen’l C. You are home." The man rose and came toward the bed. "You were badly injured at Appomattox Station. Do you remember?"
"I remember being blown off my horse. Duncan was there. Then you and Jack were there. I thought I was going to die."
"You did not die, Gen’l. Dr. Walker did her best."
"I remember asking her to not take the leg."
Charlie lifted his bandaged hand. Agony tore through his shoulder from moving the arm. From the shape of the bandage, it was clear that part of the hand was missing. "Are you sure I am not dead and this is just my punishment?"
Jocko looked at his old friend with a mixture of sorrow and pity. "Charlie." He snorted. "It has been a long time since I have called you just Charlie." He cleared his throat. "Charlie, you have been very badly wounded. Half your hand was blown away. Your whole right side is a mess. You are missing a lot of muscle tissue, but you have no other broken bones and eventually, you will heal. You have to keep that in mind in the coming weeks."
"What do you mean?" Charlie tried to move his right leg. The pain was so intense he had to stifle a scream. And he failed to move the leg. When he could talk again, he panted, "Jesus, Jocko. Will I walk?"
"Maybe, with a cane."
Charlie closed his eyes. It was bad enough that he could not offer Rebecca a real life with a real man. Now she had a maimed cripple on her hands In a flat voice, he asked, "How did I get home?"
"We brought you home in General Grant’s train."
Charlie thought for a long time. While he lay there, Jocko carefully checked the bandages. There was no sign of seepage, so he left them.
"Where is Miss Rebecca?"
"Downstairs with the children, I believe."
"Where is she sleeping?"
"She used the davenport last night, so as not to disturb or hurt you."
"Jocko. Do me a favor?"
"Anything, Gen’l C."
"Set up a cot down in my office. I need to give Miss Rebecca her bed and a place to sleep in comfort. Do what you need to do to move me down there today."
"Charlie, do you think that is a good idea? Miss Rebecca is ––"
Charlie snapped. "Jocko, do not question me. Just get me moved as quickly as you can. And do not tell Miss Rebecca until it is done."
--*--
A
fter putting Em down for her nap, with a promise they would see Papa when she woke, Rebecca went to check on Charlie. When she stepped into the room she was shocked to find the bed empty and Lizbet changing the sheets.
"Where is Charlie?"
"General Charlie asked Mister Jocko to move him to his office downstairs."
"What?"
"I do not know more than that, Miss Rebecca. They moved him, and then Mister Jocko told me to remake your bed with fresh linens."
Rebecca left the room. She was furious and upset, a very bad combination when it came to Rebecca Redmond; Jocko was about to get it with both barrels. "Jocko!" she yelled as she descended the stairs.
Jocko was on his way upstairs when he heard Miss Rebecca bellow. He hurried up the last steps and found her standing, hands on her hips, in the middle of the hall, looking very angry. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"Would you care to tell me why you moved Charlie to his office?"
"Because, ma'am, he ordered me to. Said the bed was too soft, and that you needed a place to sleep in comfort."
"And you did not think to check with me first?" Rebecca was shaking now, partly from anger and partly from frustration. "How in the name of God am I suppose to care for him if he is down there?"
"Ma'am, he specifically asked that either Mr. Whitman or I take care of his wounds. He said he dinna want you to be dirtying your hands with his blood."