Words Heard in Silence (20 page)

"Jocko, am I wrong for playing the role I do?"

"What do you mean, wrong, Charlie? You are a damned fine officer. You take care of your men, you get the job done with minimal casualties, and you are a fine tactician. You win battles. If you appeared to be a woman, you could not do the things you do so well. They would not let you."

Charlie snorted. "Well, I have been being a soldier and a man for so long, I do not think I could go back to wearing skirts if my life depended on it."

Jocko stopped for a moment and looked his old friend and commanding officer in the eye. "Charlie, for you to survive, you had to be a man, to act like a man, look like a man, and think like a man. In every way that counts, you are a man. So why torment yourself?"

Charlie and Jocko were silent for a minute. Charlie thought about the raw truth in what Jocko had said. It was true; to survive, Charlie had to be a man. Most of the time, he thought of himself as a man. It was only in the safety and seclusion of his room, late at night when he had undressed and released the bindings around him that he remembered just who he was.

Jocko’s mind had traveled elsewhere. "So, you wore skirts? Now that is a sight I would pay money to have seen. Long hair, too? My, my, Colonel C. Were you the proper young southern lady? I think not." With a snicker and a flourish, Jocko finished the shave with a splash of bay rum.

"All right, boss, time for you to get up and out. I brought your uniform. There is warm water in the basin, so get yourself up and dressed. When you are ready, I set up a desk in the back parlor, and there is a nice warm fire going. Miss Rebecca has said you can use it as your office until you get better. Colonel Polk will be here at 9:00 and Dr. Walker is due in on the train at 10:30. Your dispatches are waiting for you, as well as the reports from each company."

"Thank you –– I think. Now go on. I will be down in a bit."

Charlie hauled himself out of bed. He was still feeling feverish and shaky, but the needs of the regiment were more important than his desire to lie in bed for the day. A quick glance at his pocket watch told him that he needed to get a move on to meet Polk. Jocko had been thoughtful. He had brought the uniform trousers instead of the usual riding britches –– and the soft, low cut dress boots that went with them, instead of the snug knee-high riding boots. Even so, just getting dressed tired him out. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes before tackling the stairs.

Finally, he carefully worked his way down the stairs. He met Rebecca coming out of the small parlor just as he was approaching the door. She took his arm and walked back into the room with him.

"I wish you could stay in bed for another day or two."

"To be honest with you, so do I. However, the needs of the men go on, regardless of how I feel."

"Well, at least you can stay warm in here. I found a woolen shawl that my husband used on cold days to help keep you warm. And I just put a pot of that mint tea you liked on the hob. And if you get too tired, you can lie down on the davenport. There is an afghan you can use or the lap rug if you need them."

"Thank you." He glanced around at all of the things that had been done by Jocko and Rebecca to make him comfortable. The neat pile of handkerchiefs on the corner of the table that had been converted into a desk brought a smile to his lips. "I see you have thought of everything. Would you join me in a cup of tea?"

"Thank you, but no. I understand that Dr. Walker is arriving today, and the servants you hired have arrived this morning, so I need to get them to work and make things ready. I will have a light lunch ready for her and who ever she brings."

"Ah, Miss Rebecca, there is a close friendship between Dr. Walker and Colonel Polk. I would think they would both appreciate it if you included him in your luncheon plans."

Rebecca’s right eyebrow rose and a slightly amused look played over her features. "By all means. Colonel Polk is a –– charming gentleman. By the way, Corporal Nailer has been a godsend. Duncan found every piece of old furniture in the attic and the storerooms, and repaired and cleaned everything that could be made usable again. It feels like I have a furnished home again, even if nothing matches."

"I am glad for you. And I will be sure to commend him for his efforts. I noticed that you still have a problem with the kitchen, though."

"Yes, well, the wind took the patch off almost as soon as it started raining."

Rebecca’s face looked strained. Charlie did not know what had affected her so; whether it was the stress of dealing with all of his demands, the pain of having her home taken over, or something else.

"Miss Rebecca, I am sorry we have imposed on you so. If there is anything we can do to lessen the burden, please……" He trailed off, at a loss for words, but sensing the small woman’s distress.

She responded gently. "No, Colonel, you and your men have done nothing to cause me distress. If anything, you have offered me a reprieve, a chance to build a new life for myself. For this, I am deeply grateful."

"Miss Rebecca, I hope you know that I would do anything in my power to make your life less painful, less difficult. I am at your service whenever you need me."

The raw honesty of Charlie’s offer shook Rebecca’s fragile control. She became a bit brusque to mask her reaction. "Well, sir, with guests coming, I must be about my business." She walked briskly to the door, and paused as she was leaving. "Please, Colonel Redmond, do take care. Do not push yourself any more than you absolutely must." With that admonition, she quietly closed the door.

Charlie seated himself at the makeshift desk and drew the dispatch case in front of him. But instead of opening it, he just sat, staring at the door that had just closed, seeing the tired look in the woman’s eyes, the almost lost look that haunted her today, and racking his brains for something to make her feel better.

Finally, he poured himself a cup of the tea she had left him and preceded to plow through the dispatches and reports, preparatory to meeting with Polk.

Promptly at 9:00, Polk rapped on the door. Charlie called for him to enter, without rising, and waved him to a chair as he finished reading the last report.

"Well, Richard, it looks like we could have sustained a lot worse damage than we did."

"Yes, Sir. We have a number of sprained ankles, and a number of colds in the men, but nothing serious. We have five injured horses, but none had to be put down. We are still looking for about half a dozen missing horses and one missing mule. The best news is that except for a couple of sacks of flour and a barrel of salt pork, our supplies were all fine. The bad news is that every single pair of those lousy boots that supply sent us have fallen apart or turned into solid blocks. With the wet weather, we are scrimping, using old boots and lining them with whatever we can get, but it is not good."

"Alright. Telegraph the quartermaster general, with copy to General Sheridan as urgent. In the mean time, is there any tanned leather around? We could make moccasins and line them with straw or something to at least keep their feet dry and warm. Check with Sheridan, and what about checking with Mr. Cooper? This area was once all cattle and horse farms. Maybe there are still some cured hides around. And see if there are any men with skills as cobblers or leatherworkers."

"Yes, sir. We will do the best we can."

"How are we progressing on putting in drainage and winterizing the tents?"

"The storm certainly defined the current water flow patterns sir. I have four companies at work on digging ditches and building berms around the tents themselves. We have not yet received the wood for the rough timbering. It is waiting for us at the rail yard, but the road is still too muddy to transport it."

"Keep up the work, and get those timbers in as quickly as you can. I do not want a repeat of the last couple of days. Now, on another subject. What is the word on Montgomery?"

"Samuelson is concerned. He has not regained consciousness yet. You put water or broth in his mouth, he swallows. You tickle the soles of his feet with a blade, he twitches. But that is the extent of his responsiveness."

"I am glad Dr. Walker will be here today. I would hate to lose him."

"Um, sir, that leads me to another question. Dr. Walker is due in this morning."

"I know."

"I would like permission to go meet her train."

"I had assumed you would." Charlie looked down at the papers in front of him to hide the slight smirk that came to his lips. "Perhaps you would take Samuelson with you. Just to fill her in on the status of the men, of course. And to provide a companion for Mr. Whitman if he is with her. Escort them here, as I believe Miss Rebecca has planned a light lunch for them and plans to host them here in the main house."

"Certainly, Sir."

"And you are invited to lunch as well, Richard."

Polk had the grace to blush slightly. "Thank you, Charlie. And thank Miss Rebecca."

"I assume you can convey your appreciation to the lady herself, Richard. Now, off you go. You have much to do between now and 10:30."

"Yes, Sir!"

Polk walked out the door, closing it gently behind him. Charlie slumped in his chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. Just the effort to read the reports and meet with Polk had drained what little energy he had.

A gentle tap on the door failed to rouse him from the gentle doze he had fallen into. Rebecca entered, followed closely by Corporal Duncan Nailer, who was embarrassed by having to report to the Colonel directly. The heavy clump of Duncan’s hobnail boots roused Charlie.

"Miss Rebecca? Duncan? What can I do for you?"

Rebecca looked upset, Duncan looked determined. He spoke first. "Sir, about the kitchen. I have looked it over carefully and we really need to put a new roof on it. Otherwise, it will just continue to spring leaks. I talked to Sergeant Wise, who said we had the materials. So, I want about four men to help me rip the roof off and replace it. I figure it will only take a couple of days with the right men."

"Colonel, I cannot let you do this. This is my property, and I am responsible for taking care of it."

"Duncan. Pick you men and get the job done before the weather changes again. Dismissed."

Duncan looked between his Colonel, who looked rather pale and drawn, and Miss Rebecca, who looked like a thundercloud about to break. He sketched a quick salute to the Colonel and hastily retreated from what looked to be a messy skirmish.

"Charlie Redmond. What gives you the right to simply make decisions about MY house, about MY choices without even consulting me!"

Charlie closed his eyes and let her anger wash over him. He did not have the energy for this. In a flat monotone, he responded without opening his eyes. "It needed to be done –– and done before we got another storm. This is the only way it could get done promptly."

"Colonel Redmond. You are NOT the master of this house. You are my guest. And I have the right to at least contribute to these decisions."

"Yes, Miss Rebecca. I know I am not the master of this house. And I certainly know I am not your lover, let alone your husband. But you are the one who wanted the image of my protection. This is one of the results."

She opened her mouth to respond, then looked closely at him and abruptly closed it again. "Charlie?" She passed her hand over his cheek and forehead. "Charlie, are you all right?"

"No. I am sick. I am tired. I am drained."
And I am trying to do right by you and you are busy giving me what for.
"You are welcome for the new roof."

Her hand on his cheek was more pain than he could take at that moment. He turned his face away from her, sick in heart as well as in body, wishing he could be the man she needed and deserved, knowing he was not and never would be. The voice in his head, the one he hated and feared crowed with glee.
You see, you miserable fraud. Even your kindnesses are not needed, not wanted. You know that when this war is over, when they no longer need a lackey to do the dirty work of war, even that pitiful little usefulness will be gone. Give it up Charlie Redmond. You are only useful to the dogs of war, and when they are kenneled this time, so shall you be.

The familiar, hollow ache in his chest, the one he had lived with for all of his adult life, burst into full flaming agony. It was all he could do to sit still, the urge to curl into a shaking ball around that burning emptiness was so consuming.

"Charlie. Charlie. What is it, Charlie?" Rebecca was contrite. She had not meant to hurt him, and then suddenly it was as if he just –– went away for a minute.

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to get himself back under control. He looked up at her, and for a fleeting moment, she could see the soul-killing anguish in his eyes before the always gentle and polite colonel returned. "I am sorry, Miss Rebecca. I did not mean to be sharp with you, nor to take away your prerogatives around the house or the farm. Can you forgive my presumption?"

"Colonel, if anyone should apologize I believe it is me. I did not mean to rail at you like that. I am afraid I am just tired. And there is so much to do before Dr. Walker arrives" She took him by the arm, wrapping her hands around him. "Charlie, you need to rest, dear man. Please, please at least lie down for a bit until luncheon?"

Her touch was still fire. The gentle solicitude of her voice was an agony. Between the recent dream of his mother and the moment when she went from gentle concern to angry lashing out because he had crossed the line of acceptable behavior, Charlie was now deeply mired in his darkest melancholia. A part of him wanted to reach out to her, like a wanderer lost in the desert seeking the peaceful haven of an oasis. The rest of him knew, past any doubt or hope, that such sanctuary was not for him.