Words Heard in Silence (21 page)

He let her help him to the davenport, and lay back, exhausted as much by his own pain as by the illness. Gently, she tucked him in, and left him, lying with his eyes closed, hoping he would sleep for a bit. As the sound of the latch clicked home, the first of a long stream of silent tears ran down Charlie’s face.

A
n eager Polk stood at the small railroad station in Culpeper, looking north up the line for the smudge of smoke that would tell him the train was coming. He had sent one of the quartermaster sergeants looking for cured leather and another looking through the rosters for skilled cobblers or leather crafters. Now he was waiting for her.

The normally jovial, calm gentleman paced up and down the platform, hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets, tromping to and froe like an expectant father, chewing rather vigorously on the stub of his cigar. Samuelson sat quietly on one of the three benches on the platform, watching the Colonel like he was some sort of competitive sport or circus exhibition.

Finally, Samuelson could stand it no longer. Quietly, he went into the stationmaster’s office and inquired on the latest notification of progress of the supply train with the small passenger car tacked on at the end. The stationmaster’s report was terse. The train had taken on water in Warrenton and was expected in approximately 10 minutes. Samuelson thanked the man courteously and stepped back out to inform the pacing Executive Officer.

Upon hearing the news, Polk threw the stub of his cigar onto the cinders of the tracks. "Why cannot we get the damned trains to run on time? Somebody ought to be able to do something as simple as that."

He lit another stogie and went back to pacing.

Eleven and a half minutes later, the supply trained pulled into the station and moved up so that the passenger car was even with the platform. Immediately, Polk was at the door, ready to hand the lady down. Samuelson followed a step or two behind.

"Dr. Walker. I am so glad to see you. How was your trip? Not to tiring, I hope. You are looking well. Is this a new traveling suit? It becomes you, ma’am." Polk hustled about, gathering her cases and talking non-stop.

The diminutive, dark haired woman with the soft brown eyes just smiled gently, waiting for the Colonel to wind down a bit. "Good morning, Colonel. You are looking well, and the trip was uneventful. Thank you." She answered all of his questions smoothly.

Samuelson shyly smiled at Mr. Whitman as he disembarked from the train. The two men silently shook hands.

Dr. Walker turned her attention to Samuelson. "Good morning, Mr. Samuelson. I trust we have no pressing cases that demand our immediate attention."

"Well, ma’am, there is one case I wish you would examine fairly soon. A head injury, I am afraid."

"Ah, yes, those are quite touchy."

Polk broke in. "Dr. Walker, ma’am, our hostess, Mrs. Gaines has prepared a luncheon and a suite for you in her home. Would not you like to get settled before you attend to medical issues?"

"Gentlemen, my oath comes before my comfort. Let us go and see this case that has Samuelson so concerned. Then we can enjoy the social amenities."

The three men hauled various cases and trunks from the train to the waiting carriage. Tarent had managed to get a larger open carriage back in working condition in time to collect Dr. Walker and her traveling cases of primarily medical tools and drugs. Stowing them in the boot, Samuelson offered to drive back to the farm. Whitman rode beside him on the driver’s bench, while Polk joined Dr. Walker.

The trip back was quick, with Samuelson managing to avoid the worst of the rain-induced ruts in the road. Each couple spoke quietly of personal things, catching up on news of mutual acquaintances and one another’s activities. As soon as they reached the stone barn that was now the infirmary, the gracious lady transformed into the efficient physician.

"Let us take a look at your most serious cases, Mr. Samuelson."

"There is really only one urgent one, Dr. Walker. It is Major Montgomery. He was kicked in the head by a horse. We have some reflex activity, but he has been unresponsive since the accident."

Quietly, Whitman opened the black satchel he always kept handy; the one that contained her most commonly used tools. A candle, quickly lit, was placed inside a small, directional lantern with a focusing lens. This was used to both light small areas like the insides of the ears and to check the reaction of the patient’s pupils. She took her listening horn and listened to Montgomery’s heart and breathing, then took a small tool that looked like a tiny rowel spur mounted on a pen holder and ran it over his palms, the inside of his wrist and the soles of his feet.

Finally, she carefully examined his head, probing with gentle fingers all around the inflamed area. Shaking her head, she turned to Samuelson and Whitman. "Gentlemen, we will have to perform surgery –– and even then I do not know if we can save him. How long will it take for you two to set up the surgery and create as clean an area as possible?"

Samuelson spoke up. "Ma’am, I have already been working to prepare a surgical area. With Mr. Whitman’s help, we should be ready for you by mid-afternoon."

"Fine. I will meet our hostess and get a little rest; then we shall do what we can for this poor man. Oh, Whitman, do get yourself something to eat. You will need the strength."

The Colonel and the lady waited as Whitman and Samuelson unloaded all but the personal baggage from the carriage, then Polk drove Dr. Walker up to the main house.

They were met at the door by Beulah, and were immediately joined by Rebecca, who had been waiting in the front parlor. Quiet introductions and greetings were exchanged, as Rebecca explained about Colonel Redmond’s incapacity. As Beulah hustled off to get Reg to unload the personal baggage and take it to the guests’ rooms, Dr. Walker offered to check in on Charlie, both because of her capacity as a physician and as an old friend. Polk excused himself for a few moments, to send a couple of messages back to the duty officer of the day.

Quietly entering Charlie’s office cum sick room, Dr. Walker was shocked to find Charlie lying on the sofa, looking drained and exhausted. "Hello, Charlie."

She startled him. He sat up abruptly, a move that caused his touchy head to ache for a moment. "Elizabeth. I am sorry, you startled me."

She sat beside her old friend. "So tell me, Charlie. How are things going –– really? You look very tired."

"Oh, it has been a tough few days, Elizabeth. I am very glad you have come. I need your help, old friend –– in so many ways."

"Well, Montgomery seems to be the first problem. I am going to have to operate as soon as possible if we are to have any hope of saving him."

"I was afraid of that. When will you do it?"

"This afternoon, if at all possible. I do not want him to deteriorate any more than he already has. Even so, it may be too late. Head injuries are very tricky."

"Well, whatever you need, my dear lady, whatever you need."

"What about you, Charlie? Is there something bothering you other than a cold?"

"Ah, we will talk about that later, if you do not mind. Focus on Montgomery first, dear friend. But before that, I believe our hostess, Mrs. Gaines, has prepared a luncheon for you. We should not keep her waiting."

"Yes, I met her. She seems a lovely lady. It will be nice to have a southern woman to talk with again."

"I hope you two can be friends."

"Yes, well, from the looks of it, she and I have about the same approach to taking care of Colonels who will not take care of themselves. I can smell the mustard plaster, and the mint tea. My prescription for your ailments, Colonel, is that you continue to follow your hostess’ instructions."

A shadow flickered across Charlie’s face, then his usual polite mask slid into place. "Of course, Doctor. As you say. Now, shall we go into luncheon?"

Charlie rose, and offered his arm to the diminutive woman. At just barely five feet tall, Charlie towered over her, presenting a strikingly romantic picture. Both Polk and Rebecca stiffened a little as the two entered the dining room, arm in arm, laughing at some riposte that one of them had made to the other. Charlie did not notice; Elizabeth did, especially Rebecca’s response.
My, my. I wonder if there is something there. Well, there is no one who more deserves loving care than our Charlie, but can this proper southern lady handle our boy?

Luncheon was a bit stilted.

After coffee, Rebecca offered to escort Dr. Walker to her room to rest, and Polk and Charlie lingered outside the front door to share a cigar, an act that turned out to be less than intelligent on Charlie’s part, as it set of a violent round of coughing that left him feeling drained. Rebecca, descending from the upper floors, heard his raucous hacking and stepped out on the portico. She shooed Polk back to his duties, then hustled Charlie back into the back parlor.

A dose of mint tea, a new mustard plaster and some very focused fussing later and Charlie, swathed in a lap rug and woolen shawl, was settled before a warm fire with pillows at his back. "You need to rest, Colonel Redmond. Would you like me to read to you?"

"You need not worry or inconvenience yourself, Miss Rebecca. I will be fine here."

"It is not an inconvenience, Colonel. I often read to myself after lunch, poetry, philosophy or from the bible. It soothes me. When my brother was alive, we would read aloud to one another, and I grew into the habit. It is one I would happily renew."

"As you wish, my dear lady. The sound of your voice alone is soothing to me. And anything that interests your agile mind will be enlightening, I am sure."

Rebecca looked at Charlie with some concern. The gentle informality of the last few days had been replaced with his most courtly manners. Perhaps the good doctor had more of a relationship with Charlie than she thought and he was distancing himself because his lover had arrived. But that did not make sense. Charlie had said that he was not involved with anyone –– he had been quite clear. Perhaps she had rebuked him. Ah, well, she knew she would never win the love of someone as generous and good as Charlie. So, these moments together were to be savored. And savor them she would.

"I have been reading some of the Apocrypha to the Holy Bible. I find there are some interesting additions to the stories we all learn in our normal religious studies. Would that interest you, sir?"

"Just continue from wherever you left off reading; I have read them and found them quite fascinating. A reminder would not be unwelcome."

"This is the additional Chapter 14 to the book of Esther, then.

"Queen Esther also, being in fear of death, resorted unto the Lord: And laid away her glorious apparel, and put on the garments of anguish and mourning: and instead of precious ointments, she covered her head with ashes and dung, and she humbled her body greatly, and all the places of her joy she filled with her torn hair. And she prayed unto the Lord God of Israel, saying, O my Lord, thou only art our King: help me, desolate woman, which have no helper but thee: For my danger is in mine hand."

Charlie listened carefully to the words. It seemed to him that Rebecca might find herself reflected in these words. The terrible losses of husband and family that this cruel war had handed her were suddenly there before him. He knew that she had first put aside her widow’s weeds when he had invited her to ride with him. He continued to listen to her reading.

"And now we have sinned before thee: therefore hast thou given us into the hands of our enemies, because we worshipped their gods: O Lord, thou art righteous. Nevertheless it satisfieth them not, that we are in bitter captivity: but they have stricken hands with their idols, that they will abolish the thing that thou with thy mouth hast ordained, and destroy thine inheritance, and stop the mouth of them that praise thee, and quench the glory of thy house, and of thine altar, and open the mouths of the heathen to set forth the praises of the idols, and to magnify a fleshly king for ever."

As Rebecca read on, her voice soft and soothing, the exhaustion of his illness and the emotional turmoil that had battered him through the night and morning caught up with him. Charlie slid into a light sleep. As his breathing changed, she quietly closed her bible and moved to his side. She straightened his shawl, covering his chest more completely, and smoothed an unruly lock of hair back from his forehead. Softly, she laid her lips on his forehead, pleased to feel that his temperature, although not yet normal, had lessened. Settling into a chair beside him, she sat and watched his sleeping face, holding his hand tenderly in her own. She roused a little as she heard Dr. Walker leaving, then returned to her vigil as the shadows of late afternoon and then evening slowly claimed the little parlor.

D
r. Walker stretched, and flexed her hands. The surgery on Montgomery had been very demanding, and had gone far longer than she expected. She had found a depressed area of skull, with small splinters surrounding the depression.

She had carefully trimmed and removed the broken section of bone, removing the little shards and then replacing the large section so that it would eventually merge back into the rest of the skull. He was fortunate; the thin membrane that protected the actual brain was unbroken. Hopefully, with the pressure from the break removed, the swelling would start to recede and he would survive. It was still too early to tell.