Words Heard in Silence (36 page)

"Does that mean you have read my little efforts, Colonel?"

"I have indeed, Whitman, I have indeed. The poetry is outstanding, but I fear that many of our more……" Charlie paused, searching for the right word. "……our more tradition bound brothers and sisters may find it difficult." Charlie and Whitman had found common ground the previous year when Whitman had assisted Dr. Walker in treating Charlie for a minor injury.

Whitman laughed, a slightly bitter laugh. "Well, the soul of a man is his own, yet so many have sold their souls to propriety. Neither of us will ever find a place in that world of propriety, will we, Colonel?"

"No, Whitman, I fear you are right. I fear there is no place in this world for the likes of us."

The two men sat on the cold stone, each smoking their chosen form of tobacco, both staring into the infinity of reflections in the broken moon mirrors of the pond.

Charlie shrugged off his immobility. "Come, Whitman, this is a cold place to ponder the coldness of the world. There is a bottle of good French brandy in my office and a fire in the hearth. Will you join me?"

"Colonel, I would be honored."

The two men walked in companionable silence back up the lawn to the private entrance to Charlie’s office. Charlie built up the fire until he had a cheery blaze, then shed his coat. Whitman broke out the brandy and glasses Charlie had pointed out to him.

The two settled into comfortable chairs before the fire, refreshed their tobacco and sat quietly, savoring the brandy. Whitman broke the silence.

"Good quality brandy is hard to find."

"Yes, well, I have an associate in Washington who keeps me supplied when he can."

"Must be a very good friend."

"He is as a good a friend as I pay him to be." Charlie laughed. "You can get anything for the right price, my friend."

"Ah. I would beg to differ, Colonel. The important things in life you cannot buy for all the money in the world."

"True enough. And sometimes the important things in life are unattainable."

"So, Colonel, what are the important things in your life? I would think, from what I have heard of you and Mrs. Gaines, that you are well on your way to attaining what every man dreams of."

"Ah, Whitman, that is what concerns me. I fear that I may well be dreaming and will awaken one morning to find myself back in my tent, alone, surrounded by mud and miserable men, with no hope for the future beyond another day of waiting interspersed with bloody conflict." Charlie knocked back the last of his glass of brandy and poured himself another.

"It seems you and I have the mirror image of one another’s fear, if I may be so presumptuous."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, waiting for Whitman to continue.

"You, sir, have your dream before you and you fear you may never be able to grasp it. I have held my dream and find it slipping away to the duty that makes him who he is."

"Samuelson?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least you know where you stand."

The two men looked at one another, then by unspoken consent, silently toasted their respective loves. Once again, glasses were refilled.

"Yes, well, I may know where I stand, sir, but I certainly miss knowing where my head will lie –– on a cold pillow or a warm shoulder." Whitman’s smile was rather rueful.

"I have read your works, sir. And I am not clear that a warm shoulder is exactly where you choose to rest your head." Charlie’s grin was slightly licentious.

"Ah, Colonel, you must be referring to

"That was the quatrain that came to mind."

"Colonel, I presume, but I think I know your heart. For did I not capture it when I wrote

Charlie stood, restless and angry with himself and the world. Another brandy was poured and consumed. "Yes, indeed. And there is the crux of the matter. For I am one who has been a boy and who loves women. And for me, I can never be the begetter of children. But she, she deserves to have that; she deserves the family and the ability to leave a legacy that I can never give her. And what is the reason for intimacy but to beget a legacy."

Whitman looked at the brooding Colonel. While his senses were slightly numbed by the alcohol, the pain of the figure standing before him was obvious. "Colonel, there are more reasons than just children for two people to come together. What you are describing is intimacy, when two people come together because their hearts call them together. You know that children do not require intimacy, only the physical act. And you know the physical act without intimacy is nothing more than release. But when intimacy is involved, then the heart and the soul are involved, then physical pleasure is unlike anything you have ever experienced."

Whitman paused, considering the nature of the woman in question. From the little he knew of her, Rebecca seemed to him to be a careful, clear thinking woman who would go to any length to please her Colonel. "Your lady will come to realize that, Colonel. Just as you will come to realize that there are more ways to build a family and leave a legacy of love than through the begetting of children."

With that, Whitman finished his brandy. "I leave you, Colonel, to consider the nature of love. It is broader and more varied than most believe." Quietly, Whitman donned his own cloak and slipped out of the office, leaving Charlie standing and brooding before the fire.

With a deep sigh, Charlie finished his last brandy and banked the fire. He walked upstairs to the main floor, and pulled his boots off before mounting the stairs. Stopping in the small sitting room outside of their bedroom door, Charlie slipped off the rest of his clothes. Naked, he slid into the room he shared with Rebecca. She was lying, half turned toward where he usually slept, hugging his nightshirt to her. Her face was relaxed, her breathing even and slow. The fire in his belly that plagued him almost non-stop now flared again. More of Whitman’s words came to mind.

Charlie looked at Rebecca’s face, at the lovely form hidden only by the light flannel of her nightgown.
Yes, I am around, tenacious. To me you are not guilty. You are not stale, nor discarded. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Oh, Rebecca, I ache for you. I burn for your touch. I hunger for your passion.
She slid into bed beside Rebecca, and looked at her, illuminated in the soft moonlight from the window and the faint glow of the banked embers in the fireplace. As she looked at her, her hands slowly began stroking her own body. One hand played with her nipples, the other caressed the nexus of nerves at her center. She gazed on her face, imagining it was Rebecca’s hands and not her own that were toying with her body. In a matter of minutes, she arched into her own hand, and softly cried Rebecca’s name. With the most urgent of the flames eased for at least a moment, the brandy took over. Sliding her arm around Rebecca’s sleeping form, Charlie fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

C
harlie awoke early and went for his usual morning run. As was becoming his habit, Jocko prepared a hot bath in the bathing room and was enjoying a cup of coffee while waiting for the Colonel to return.

Charlie slammed into the bathing area, sweating and limping slightly. He had fallen over a root and slammed his knee into the ground. Coupled with a mild hangover the run had not managed to clear completely, he was not in the best of humors.

"Good morning, Jocko." Charlie growled his greeting, barely civil in his current mood.

"Morning, Colonel C." Jocko knew better than to get in Charlie’s way when he was in this kind of a mood.

Charlie stripped off his work clothes, and threw the trousers out to Jocko. "See if you can fix them."

Jocko looked them over. One knee was shredded and slightly bloodstained. They would have to be replaced. Jocko sighed. Sometimes Charlie was hard on clothes.

Charlie emerged a few minutes later, clad in shirt, britches, socks and weskit. Shaving was performed in silence. When Jocko was finished, Charlie turned to him. "Do you have any commitments today?"

"Just the normal, Sir."

"Good. Get Black Jack saddled up, get yourself a horse and a note pad, and meet me out front in a half hour. Send Polk to me before you get the horses."

"Yes, sir, Colonel, Sir." Jocko was not inclined to be Charlie’s whipping boy when the universe had served up the normal reaction to an overdose of the grape.

"Being a little overbearing this morning, am I?"

"A bit, sir."

Charlie laughed, a wry and rather self-deprecating chuckle.

"Well, I will tone it down. Thanks for the warning."

"Oh, by the way, sir, why Black Jack? Lately, you have been riding Shannon."

"I am leaving Shannon for Miss Rebecca. I believe she and Duncan will go into town today to collect up the other refugees."

"Oh, aye. I did hear tell of that. A little admirer of yours gave it away."

"Enough of that, Sergeant." Charlie softened the admonition with a grin.

"So what do I need a horse and notepad for, Colonel"

"You and I are going to tour the county and try and figure out just how badly off these people are."

"You and I alone?"

"Yes, you and I alone."

"Charlie –– you have lost your mind. You will be the biggest target these folks have had in ages. What if somebody recognizes you? They are as likely to shoot you as speak to you."

"I know that. But we will never get anywhere if we go with an armed entourage. We ride alone. Sidearm only."

Jocko shook his head. He loved Charlie like a brother, was unfailingly loyal to him. But sometimes he knew his boss was just plain crazy.

Jocko turned to leave.

"And Jocko?"

The batman turned to look inquiringly at Charlie.

"Do not dawdle. We need to get a move on. I will be in my office."

C
harlie finished dressing quickly. He wanted to be out of the house and on his way before Rebecca made her way down for breakfast. In fact, he wanted to put as much distance as possible between them this morning. Maybe if he pushed himself hard enough and limited their encounters, he could, somehow, manage, a little, to control the effect she had on his libido. Maybe.

While waiting for Polk and Jocko, Charlie prepared his orders for the day. Polk would handle the transfer of the refugees and the daily staff meeting. He had briefed Polk on the plans for work details to support the civilian population the day before. The company commanders would have to manage a great many details to implement his wishes. His meticulous mind made Polk a good second. He was outstanding at patiently handling these kinds of administrative details.

Polk entered his office first. "Thanks, chief. I needed to be rousted out at the crack of dawn. Why can you not wait for reveille like a normal person?"

"Because I cannot ask the men to get up unless I am already up waiting for them."

Polk poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that Sarah delivered to the office every morning. "So what is so urgent that I am here before breakfast?"

"I am riding out to see for myself what needs to be done to pull this county together and set them on the road to return to the Union. We have to survive winter here, and so do the civilians. I am taking Jocko as my clerk."

"So you want an escort. I will go rustle one up."

"No. We are going alone."

"Sweet Jesus, Charlie. You are crazy."

"No, I am not. If I go with a guard, I know for a fact they will not talk to me. If I go with just Jocko, they may recognize that I am not coming to try to take anything from them. This way, I have at least a hope of them listening and talking."

Like Jocko minutes earlier, Polk just shook his head. Charlie had been known to pull off some hare-brained stunts in the past. He just hoped his commander knew what he was doing this time.

T
he day was brisk and clear. Black Jack, Charlie’s big black stallion, had not been ridden for days. He had been at pasture since they had arrived, due to a slight bruise to his hock. He was full of energy; nervous, jittery and full of beans. Everything distracted him. He shied at the slightest provocation. In fact, Jack’s mood fit Charlie’s exactly. Jocko was mounted on an ugly old buckskin with a foul temper and the endurance of a dray. Between them, they had the means to cover a great deal of ground in a short time. Just as Rebecca was coming down the stairs for her breakfast, she saw the two men set off at a brisk canter down the main drive.