Words Heard in Silence (90 page)

"Yes, honey, Papa has to work, and my work makes me leave sometimes. But I will come back, I promise."

Em sighed, cuddling closer. "I miss Papa."

Charlie held the little girl very close. "And Papa misses you when I go away, too. But you have Mama and your puppy and friends like Jeremiah and Tess to keep you company when I am gone."

"Yes, Papa." She said it, but it was clear she did not mean it.

"And I will write Mama all the time and I promise, each letter will have a message for you."

"Yes, Papa." She curled even deeper and yawned. Clearly Charlie held one very tired little girl in his arms.

"Ready for sleep, little one?"

She only nodded, taking a death grip on his tunic. "Sweepy."

"Then into bed with you. You need to let go of Papa's coat."

"Hold." She yawned again, her eyes falling shut, but her grip remained tight.

Charlie looked at Rebecca, beseeching her help with his expression. As he had been talking with Em, the little puppy had crawled out of her bedding by the fire and was now lying over Charlie's boots. He was well and truly pinned.

Rebecca lifted the puppy to the bed and placed it next to Em’s spot then untangled the now nearly asleep girl from her Papa. She placed both child and puppy under the covers, leaning over to kiss Em on the forehead.

Charlie rose, leaned over and emulated Rebecca, then stepped back and put his arm around his wife as the two of them just watched their little girl for a few moments.

C
harlie walked through camp, proud of the work than his men had accomplished. He made his way to the stables where he found Tarent cleaning the hooves of one of the auxiliary mounts. Charlie leaned against the fence and watched the man working with the great ease that came with tremendous skill.

"Sergeant," Charlie called when he could see the man was finished with the hoof he was working on.

"Aye, General. What can I be doing for you today?"

"I want to talk to you about the spring campaign. It is not going to be easy."

Tarent sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Charlie could hear the crackling of arthritic joints from several feet away. "Aye, I do not expect it will be. I have been training my boys hard; the horses are going to need the best tending."

"So they are, but I am more concerned about you. I mean no disrespect, but you are not a young man anymore."

"Ah, no, I am not, to be sure. But who is going to take a broken down old farrier but the Army?"

"Well, actually, I am prepared to offer you the position of barn manager here at Redmond Stables." Charlie looked at his mud caked boots and then back to his friend. "But it means you will have to muster out and stay behind to help Miss Rebecca get the place running."

Tarent looked at the shoe in his hand, carefully removing the old nails from it and stashing them in a pocket before he looked back at Charlie. "Muster out of the Army, eh. Well, Lord knows, I have done my time and more. I passed my thirty year mark last month."

"I know. And Miss Rebecca and I think you would be perfect for the job. I trust you to not only look after the farm, but Miss Rebecca as well. It is not going to be easy on her when we leave." He leaned on the fence and whispered. "I have already found her crying twice and I am at my wits’ end. I am hoping that by asking a few of my most trusted to muster out and stay behind, she will find some comfort while I am gone."

"Well, since you put it that way, General, how can I refuse? Do I get the cottage that goes with the farrier's lodge?"

"With all the holes in the roof to boot." Charlie offered his hand, "Thank you, Tarent."

Tarent took Charlie's hand in a strong grip. "My pleasure, sir. Oh, and in all the fixing up around here this winter, I had the boys put a new roof on it. Fireplace draws well, too." A laconic grin and the old man was off to his forge.

Charlie spent the rest of the day talking to various men about the same option; of the twenty he asked, seventeen took him up on his offer. As he scraped the mud from his boots before going into the house, he wished someone would ask him to muster out.

He removed his boots in the kitchen so as not to track the remaining mud through the house. Pulling on a pair of carpet slippers kept by the back door for situations such as this, he set off for his office to finish some paperwork before beginning the task of packing.

A
round midnight, the door to his office opened and he looked up to find Rebecca standing there.

"Charlie?"

"Come in, darling. I am so sorry; it must be late. I lost track of time." She was in her nightdress and a robe. From the look of her eyes, she had been crying again. He rose from his desk, which was piled with various stacks of paper, and hurried over to take her in his arms.

"I……I want to give you something." She took his hand and laid her father’s watch in his palm. "Father always said this watch brought him luck. He was wearing it the day he met mother. I want you to take it with you."

Charlie gingerly took the heavy gold watch. "Dear heart, this is the only thing you have left of your father. Are you sure you want me to take it into battle with me?"

"I want you to take it into battle, then bring it home with you."

"Then I will use it to count the hours until I return to you, dearest." Charlie settled the watch into his vest pocket, then lifted Rebecca up in his arms and carried her over to the settee before the fire. He sat down with her still in his arms and held her close. "I love you, Rebecca Redmond."

Rebecca could not answer for fear the tears would start again. She just curled her hand against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder as she watched the flames.

Duncan had thought his position as the General’s personal aide, won at the Christmas Gymkhana, was an honorary one. In the past four days, since the mobilization orders had been received, he had discovered it was far from honorary. It was, in fact, a massive task to be the General’s personal errand boy. General Charlie was keeping hellish hours, therefore so was Duncan.

There were really only a couple of people the shy young sergeant really wanted to bid goodbye before they went back on the road. One was Miss Rebecca, but he did not think he could find the courage to go seek out the General’s lovely and very kind wife. The other was young Jeremiah. They had spent many hours together fishing and getting to know one another. Jeremiah did not tease him about his stutter and found the various skills he did have to be fascinating. He had an old whittling knife he wanted to give the boy as a keepsake. Perhaps he would remember his Yankee friend kindly.

Finally, he asked the General if he could have a couple of hours to take care of personal business. Charlie looked up absentmindedly and nodded casual permission. Duncan found Jeremiah sitting up in the hayloft of the stone barn, where he could watch all of the activity without being in anyone’s way.

"Hey, Jeremiah. You got a few minutes?" Duncan had to shout to be heard over the hubbub in the nearby stables.

"Sure," The boy smiled and dropped from the loft to stand before his friend.

"Walk down to the creek? I wa..wa..want to visit the trout hole one more time."

"Sure! Wish we had time to drop a line."

"Me, too, lad. But when we are gone, you will have to do it yourself. Go..got to keep making your con..contribution to the table."

"I will, I promise. Still gonna be folks to feed."

"You make your ma proud of you, young Mister Carter. You help them out when we are gone, you hear? And if I h..hear you are being stuffy, why I will just have to come back and whup you."

"I promise, Duncan." The boy stopped, and looked down at his feet before taking a deep breath and looking back at his friend. "I hope you come back."

Duncan laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. "I hope I come back, too." They walked together in silence for a few steps. "D..d..do you th..think your ma would like me to come back, too?"

Jeremiah stared at Duncan for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose."

Duncan nodded his head and continued walking. They got to the fishing hole in companionable silence. "They are feeding today. The flies are starting to hatch. You want to just throw a line out?"

"No line."

"Got one right here." Duncan pulled a spool of line and a hook from his belt pouch.

"Duncan, we got no pole."

Duncan pulled the whittling knife from his pocket. "I figger you can trim one with this." He handed it to Jeremiah. "Keep it. It was my da’s and I would like you to have it."

Jeremiah looked at the knife in his hand and a large lump formed in his throat. "Dunc, I, ...Ma would skin me if I took your da's knife. You should save this for your son."

"Well, you know, I do not have a son. But I do have you, lad, and I know my da would be proud to have such a fine young man have his knife. Keep it for me. If you still want to, you can return it when I come back."
And when I come back, if I come back, maybe Miss Samantha would not mind if I came calling.

"I promise to keep it safe, and good and sharp until you come back for it, Duncan."

"You do that, lad. Now, see if you can pull a fish or two in for dinner. I have to get back to the General."
Yes, indeed, my da would be proud of a son like Jeremiah.

Jocko was pawing through Charlie’s wardrobe, pulling out those articles of clothing he would need on the campaign, and leaving those items that were more appropriate to social events. Field uniforms, the tight britches and tunics he wore to work in, extra socks, and under things that were comfortable, warm and hid his gender were all being tightly packed. Jocko wanted to travel light. Charlie’s clothes were one of his primary responsibilities, both because that is what a batman did and because, in Charlie’s case, image was especially critical.

As he packed the well-worn leather satchels, Rebecca entered the room. "Good afternoon, Miss Rebecca," Jocko acknowledged her and continued on with his work.

"Good afternoon Jocko. Packing his things I see."

"Not everything, ma’am. This is his home now. Just the things he will need on the campaign."

Rebecca smiled. "Thank you." She took a seat on the bed and watched as he continued. "You know, Charlie is not the only one I am going to miss."

"Yes, ma’am. You and Dr. Walker have gotten to be quite close, I believe."

She chuckled, "Yes, I shall miss Elizabeth, but she is not the subject of this conversation."

"Oh, ma’am?" Jocko was busy being the very appropriate sergeant and batman. Why, if he admitted to being attached to anyone, he might just have to settle down. Mrs. White had already done more than enough of making him suspect he was fated to do so after the war was over.

"Yes, Jocko. I shall miss you very much too. If I were you, I would be a little more careful about teasing Charlie about his membership in the clan O'Blivious."

"No, ma'am, I am not normally a member of that illustrious family, but there are times when it is far more comfortable to pretend to be." He looked at her and grinned, "Anyway, if Mrs. White has her way, I will be back."

"I think if my husband has his way, you will be back. He seems to have plans for the reconstruction of Culpeper and I believe you are key to those plans."

"Then, ma’am, I suppose between you, Gen’l C and Mrs. White, I have no other options available, unless I choose to fling myself in front of some rebel sword." He pantomimed careful thought, grinning like a monkey. "No, no options there. I suppose I will be back."

"I am delighted to hear it. Please make sure to bring my husband with you."

"I shall do my best, ma’am, but you know Gen’l Charlie. Once he gets his mind set on something, there is very little that will turn him. Now that you mention it, I believe his objective is to come back."

Charlie had a quiet word with Sarah that afternoon, asking her to prepare a special dinner for Miss Rebecca, and serve it to them in the little parlor that was her favorite room –– a quiet dinner for just the two of them. Some early daffodils had snuck their heads up in some of the more sheltered areas of the farm; Charlie had picked them and a bowl of sunshine yellow flowers graced the mantle.

Charlie escorted Rebecca into the room, where their dinner was already laid out and covered to keep it warm. "My darling, I hope you like this. I wanted some time for just the two of us tonight."

"Of course, this is perfect, Charlie."

Charlie lifted a bottle of champagne from the cooler and opened it. "I saved this from our wedding for a special night together. There is another in the cellar for when I return, my love."

She smiled, managing to hold back the tears that seemed to be living in her eyes and she took the offered glass. "You think of everything."

"I try, my dear wife. As I think I told you, I believe if I plan for every contingency, even the worst, then I can usually avoid it. This is just my way of trying to show you I am doing everything possible to come home soon."

"I know you are. I know you want that as much as I do." She settled at the table. "You know how you have spent all your life learning to be a man?"

"Yes, love?" Charlie was confused. What his assumed role had to do with this evening and the upcoming separation was beyond him.

"Well, I spent my entire life learning to be a woman; a woman who is taught to worry and fret and who is left behind to pray everything will be all right. We are expected to tend home and hearth and raise children. You have given me so much more. You have made me feel like your partner, your equal. I feel, with you, I can do anything. I am not limited to the traditional roles. If I lose you, I lose that. I cannot stand the thought of being without you and I am terrified of being 'put back in my place'. So you see, Charlie, you not only own my heart, but you have given me more than any man ever could and I want you home so we can continue to grow and discover what is available to us." She smiled, "Who knows, maybe I will take up medicine as Elizabeth has."