Words Heard in Silence (26 page)

"Certainly. I cannot imagine getting much more personal than we already have." Elizabeth laughed. "But if you are going to ask me personal questions, please address them to Elizabeth. Dr. Walker must always maintain her air of professional detachment, and I somehow suspect that you do not want that from me."

Rebecca took a deep breath and trudged on into territory she never imagined herself in. "Elizabeth, were you and Charlie ever lovers?"

"Would it bother you if we were?"

"Ah, well, no. Because I have no claim to Charlie." Rebecca felt tears rise in her eyes again and desperately tried to hold them back. Elizabeth’s evasion of the answer made her fear the worst. "But I certainly would not want to be a disruption to you if you were. We both know the same thing. Charlie deserves to be loved and cared for and if you are the woman to do that then I only want him to be happy."

Elizabeth saw what she had hoped to see –– a real, honest commitment to her friend's happiness. She reached out and with the fingers of her left hand, gently lifted Rebecca's face so they were looking eye to eye. Handing her a soft linen handkerchief, she spoke with gentle compassion. "No, child, I have never been, nor will I ever be, Charlie's lover. I am his friend, one who cares deeply for him. But I prefer the companionship of another."

"Thank you." She wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. "I really think I am falling desperately in love with your friend, Elizabeth."

"Then, dear, take your time, and be sure. Charlie is a patient man - and a gentle woman."

"I will, but thank you again. You have helped me a great deal. It is very nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who truly understands."

"All it takes is being willing to see what is there, rather than what society dictates. I see this as being no different from my desire to be a physician, when society said that only men should be doctors."

Rebecca had to chuckle as she finished wiping tears from her eyes. "I hate to argue with a lady of your standing, but I think it is a little different, Doctor."

"In some ways, Rebecca, your situation is easier than mine. Charlie has been Charlie for so long he will never be anything else. If you choose to be with him, you will not have to cope with explaining why you choose the company of another woman. From all outward appearances, you will be a normal couple. You, my dear, will have to deal with choosing a Yankee, but the rest will be between just the two of you. I must handle all of society struggling with the idea of a female doctor."

"You point is well taken. You are just as amazing as Charlie is. I am very glad you have both come into my life."

"I suspect that you will have many questions along the way. I trust you and I will have more of these little chats, my dear. I look forward to them. You have no idea how much more pleasant it is to consider the condition of one's heart instead of the condition of a mutilated body."

"I do have one request of you, Elizabeth."

"Anything, my dear."

"For the time being, until I am more sure of myself and my feelings. I would ask you hold our conversations in confidence."

I would not think of violating this confidence. I am glad to see you taking my advice, taking your time and being very sure of your feelings."

"I will. The last thing I want to do is cause Charlie more pain."

Elizabeth just smiled and patted Rebecca's hand.

C
harlie and Richard spent the morning going over dispatches, reports, inventory lists, and the host of other paper work that was part of keeping a regiment of almost a thousand men and fifteen hundred horses fed, clothed, housed and healthy.

"Well, Richard, how do you think we are doing? What things have to be tended to most urgently? Will we be in trouble for the winter?"

"Well, we need to get the ditches finished, and we need to get the wood in place to half timber the tents. We have started getting the infirmary in real shape. Samuelson and Whitman have been busting the chops of every man assigned to do it right ‘‘the way Dr. Walker wants’".

"What about supplies? Have we taken the steps needed to keep it dry? And has anyone checked on it?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir. Of course, we have, Charlie. You know me better than that."

"I am sorry, Richard. I think being down sick has gotten to me more than I expected. I feel like I am being a mother hen and my chicks have all run away."

Richard laughed at that. Charlie as a mother hen was a hard image for him to conjure up. "More like a stallion keeping his herd in line, I would say."

"So, fill me in on Project Boot."

"Mr. Cooper has a search out to find leather, and I have found about seven men in the troops with at least some leatherworking skill; including one boot maker and an assortment of men with experience in patching saddles, harnesses, leather furniture and other types of leather tools. We will get by. I also sent another scathing letter to the Quartermaster General’s office about their buying practices."

"Well, ‘‘tis what we can do for now. Have we done an inventory to figure out which men need boots most urgently?"

"I expect to get that back from the individual companies today or tomorrow."

"Fine. Well, off with you, my friend. We both have full plates today. I have to write my report to Sheridan, and then I will come out and do the rounds."

R
ebecca was laughing as Sarah told her how Mrs. Williams had come into the mercantile while they were being fitted for their clothes. The cook managed to do a fairly reasonable imitation of the snooty woman that simply had Rebecca in hysterics.

"I know it is not right to feel that way, Mrs. Gaines, but she is not a very charitable woman for a minister’s wife."

"Sarah, you need not apologize to me. I have had my fill of Mrs. Williams. She was less than charitable in her attitude toward the good Colonel Redmond the other day."

"The Colonel? Why? He is a very kind gentleman."

Rebecca did not even try to hide the smile on her face, "I know." She looked down at the soft blue cloth in her hand, which was slowly taking shape into a new shirt. It made her feel good to be doing this. Charlie had given her so many new things she hoped the new shirt would be a small token of her gratitude. She was taking special care with a seam when Beulah entered the kitchen.

"Mrs. Gaines?"

"Yes?"

"There are a group of ladies from town here to see you. I have shown them to the front parlor."

"Oh Lord!" Rebecca placed her sewing in the basket and stood, straightening her dress. "I am sure they are here to see what gossip they can collect." She sighed. "Sarah, will you please prepare a tea tray for my," she paused, nearly choking on the word, "guests."

"Of course, Ma’am. It will be ready jiffy quick."

With that, Rebecca headed for the lion’s den, wishing that Daniel were home.

C
harlie walked into the area that Company D had staked out as its own. The men were working away at digging ditch works around their encampment to handle run off in the event of another storm. Others had started the process of cutting corner poles to timber the tents. When the planking became available, they would construct rough cabins inside the walls of the tents, and pack straw, hay, or some other insulation between the boards and the canvas. The canvas would repel water, the boards would stabilize the structure against wind, and help keep them a little warmer than the outside. Berms around each tent served to seal the bottom edge of the tent and keep the wind out, as well as diverting water around the tent and into the drainage ditches.

The men were busy, focused on getting the job done, and only slowly did they realize that their commanding officer was with them. A ragged salute worked its way slowly through the encampment.

Charlie waved them into a small group around him, and pulled an empty barrel over to sit on. He looked around the faces surrounding him. Some he knew from old days, some were new to him, men of the original Pennsylvania muster. Some faces were welcoming, some were shuttered and neutral, and a few –– thank God only a few –– were outright hostile. His work was cut out for him.

"Gentlemen. I want to report to you that Dr. Walker performed surgery on Major Montgomery to relieve the pressure on his brain. While it is too soon to be sure, as head injuries are very dangerous, she feels that he has at least a reasonable chance of recovering completely. I for one am very concerned about Major Monty and very relieved that we had the good fortune to have such a fine surgeon available to help care for him."

A murmur, some of it relieved, some of it muttering things like, "served him right,", went around the group of men. That the, ‘‘served him right,’ comments were coming from fellow Pennsylvanians was enlightening to Charlie.

"Men, for a moment, let us forget rank. Major Monty has a problem. We all know it. I do not think he was quite right after the Wilderness." Nods of agreement went around the circle. "I have seen this kind of thing before, and it is hard to handle. Hard for the men who suffer from it and hard for their friends, too. Monty was a good soldier and a good officer. The pain and guilt of losing so many of his men, I think, overwhelmed him. Tell me, did he ever talk about it with any of you?"

One gnarled old sergeant spoke up, "Monty was my boss back home, Colonel. He used to get together with us boys pretty much regular, but after that battle, all he did was sit in his tent and brood, usually with the help of the ol’ jack. I swear, that man could drink stuff that would rot your guts out and then get up the next morning and ride hell for leather all day."

Another one took up the story, "Yes, he would, but damn, he treated his horses like they were invulnerable. He had been the best horseman in Bucks County before the war –– horses just loved that man, but lately, he has been driving them to do things that horses are not meant to do. I do not blame that horse for kicking him. I have been wanting to do the same myself sometimes."

"Gentlemen, I believe your Major had something break inside his soul after the Wilderness. It is going to take all of us for him to see that he is not to blame –– that no individual is to blame –– for what happened. And to see that the civilians we are dealing with today are not the men you faced in battle. The men who served with me at Vicksburg know what I am talking about. Talk about it among yourself, and come to me or Colonel Polk if you have any questions."

Charlie looked around the circle of men, catching the eye of specific men who had served with him on the western front. Small nods of agreement and support came from them. He knew he had their support.

"Now, Gentlemen. For the time being, I am not going to name a new commander for this Company. You have a commander, Major Montgomery. Major Swallow will continue to act as your temporary commander, in addition to his own company, with support from Colonel Polk. We will worry about a new permanent commander for Company D if, and only if, Dr. Walker feels that Major Montgomery is not going to be capable of resuming command for the spring campaign. If you need anything, or just need to talk, you know that I have an open door to any man in this regiment. Please feel free to come by my office. I am using the farm manager’s officer in the main house. The entrance is at the north west corner of the ground floor."

Charlie stood and straightened his coat. "By the way, gentlemen, we will be conducting a gymkhana this year before Christmas. The company that wins the most overall points will serve as color guard in the spring campaign and the individual trooper who wins the most overall points from the company will serve as the color bearer. I expect a good showing from Company D. Do your Major proud, men."

Charlie accepted the departing salute, then walked toward the infirmary.
Well, that went better than I expected. Loyal to a fault, those boys are, but they did see what was happening with Monty. Maybe my boys and the gymkhana, between them, will pull those troops together. I can hope.
A small grin lit his face as he pulled the door open to the barn that had been converted to an infirmary. He went straight to the surgery, where Elizabeth and Samuelson were tending to Montgomery.

"How is he?" Charlie asked quietly.

Elizabeth looked up, a little startled. "Oh, I did not hear you come in. He is doing about as well as can be expected. His eyes are a little more reactive, and the swelling seems to be going down. That is all I can hope for right now."

"Well, I just talked to his troops. Seems they had seen changes in his behavior before this event, so even if he does survive, we have our work cut out for us. Battle shock, I would say, the raging kind, not the suicidal kind."

"Yes, I have been thinking on that. Samuelson filled me in. I would like to try something, with your permission."

"You know I support you in whatever you want, my dear doctor."

"I want to make sure that the only people who care for him when he comes conscious are people with southern accents. That is me, Samuelson, Rebecca, and any others I can find."

"I will put Polk on it to find any other men in the brigade with southern accents who can serve as medics. But I suspect he will be pretty abusive and uncooperative"

"That is the point. He had made all southerners into demons to be destroyed. I want to create a dissonance –– having people who are his caretakers be the very ones he hates. He will be torn, between gratitude for their care and his hatred. I am hoping that the dichotomy will give us the opening we need to really help him."

Whitman spoke from the corner. "I will help as well. You know, I have a way of listening and talking with people pretty effectively."

The others in the room could not help but laugh at Whitman’s comment. "Mr. Whitman, as long as you have been tagging along after me, you have had a way with words. It must be the poet in you, good sir."