Words Heard in Silence (94 page)

I am glad you are having some time to rest. I am sure it is difficult moving so much. The weather here has been reasonable and I hope it is the same for you.

Shannon does appear to be in foal. I have faith we will have a foal that is as beautiful as his father and mother and very sweet, like my Shannon, and not so full of beans, like your Jack.

Reverend Williams and I discussed the christening of Charlie Junior and we decided it would be all right to wait for the birth of the next baby and your return home. Also, more of my fight to drive Mrs. Williams insane, I asked Reverend Williams if we could take the Gaines name off our pew and replace it with Redmond and he said he certainly did not see a problem with it. I thought for sure she would pass out. Unfortunately, she did not.

I am sorry to report that the next time I write, there will probably be both good and bad news. I’m sure I will be telling you of our next child, and of Constance’s passing. I have arranged for her to have a plot in the church cemetery.

Be well and be safe my love. Wishing you home.

Eternally yours,

Rebecca

Charlie read Rebecca’s eagerly, until he got to the bittersweet news of Constance’s condition. He folded his letters and went in search of Elizabeth.

He tapped on her tent flap and waited.

"Come in."

"Good evening, Elizabeth. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course, Charlie. I am just making some tea from my hidden supply. Would you join me?"

Charlie nodded as he settled himself on a heavy case in the corner of her tent. The silence continued as Elizabeth prepared the tea and handed him a mug of steaming fluid.

"So, what has you so moody? Orders you are not happy with?"

He shook his head. "Rebecca wrote about Constance." He sat there slumped over his tea. Elizabeth waited for him to continue. Finally, he spoke. "Why does she have to die, Elizabeth?"

"Because she became pregnant at a time when her body was not healthy enough to sustain both her and the baby."

"Yes, but why? Why did Montgomery go all vicious; why did we do this to ourselves? Why are we doing everything we can to keep food from men who are probably starving?"

"Because," she took a seat next to him and took his hand, " that is the nature of war, Charlie. You know that. Good men lose their minds and soldiers do what they must to end the conflict."

Charlie shook his head. "It is just so senseless. That a lovely and loving woman like Constance should give her life because of the stupidity of men who would not or could not find a rational, civilized solution. So we have brother fighting brother, women and children dying, men left with nothing but rags and rage. I cannot do it any more, Elizabeth. I just cannot." Charlie buried his head in his hands. In a small, choked voice he cried in the night, "I just want to go home."

She sat there for a moment, then leaned over and put her arms around him. "You will very soon, Charlie. Very soon. Now tell me. Do you have another son or daughter?"

"I may by now. Rebecca’s last letter came tonight. She says it will be soon."

"Then, when you go back to your tent, do not mourn for Constance who is going to her Lord quite willingly. Be happy for your wife and the three little ones who wait for their Papa’s return."

Two days after his conversation with Elizabeth, a letter came by special courier from Rebecca. Without opening it, Charlie knew what it said.

Thursday, March 16, 1865

Dearest Charlie,

Constance has passed. The birth was difficult, but she survived long enough to see her son. A fine baby boy, a bit small, but healthy.

I have named him Andrew Richard, after my brother and your best friend.

We laid Constance to rest with a small sermon. Mrs. Williams was nearly beside herself when I told Beulah it was all right for her to attend. She and Constance had become very close and I was not going to refuse her the right to say a proper goodbye.

So now, my darling, we have three beautiful children, a daughter who loves her Papa and misses him terribly, and two fine sons who are keeping the entire house very busy. It is still early to know, but I do believe that Andrew is going to have blond hair.

Tarent is thinking of attending an auction in a few weeks to pick up some new horses. He says he knows this particular fellow, and trusts him to sell us good stock. Would it be all right for me to release him some funds for traveling and purchase?

Emily wants me to tell you that she sends you hugs and kisses and you should do the same, with a toy as well. I tried to tell her you probably were not somewhere that you could get a toy, but if any of the boys have time and are interested in doing a little carving, she would be delighted.

Hugs to Richard and Elizabeth.

Waiting as patiently as I am able for your return.

Eternally yours.

Rebecca

Charlie walked to the officers’ mess that night with very mixed emotions; saddened by the loss of a woman who in her quiet way had become a dear friend, and joyous at the birth of his second son. In addition, he had received orders to march. The James River Locks had to be taken and dismantled before the end of the month.

The officers received the news of Constance’s death with quiet sympathy. Most had only met her briefly, or not at all, but all of them had come to know the energetic toddler who called their commander Papa. Another son was cause for a round of toasts, this time sponsored by Richard, who could not resist the impulse to tease Charlie a bit about his rapidly growing family, particularly since the latest one was his namesake.

But of greatest concern that night, was the need to mobilize rapidly. The James River was a vital link for Lee’s forces. While there were no large deployments of Southern troops, they knew they faced days of extreme vigilance and probable skirmishing with small bands of raiders along the way. It would be a hard march.

Charlie’s letter to Rebecca that night was short.

The ride to the James River Locks was hard, not because of the terrain, which was rolling hills, fields, and old woodlands, but because the cavalry troopers were assigned to ride constant patrol and surveillance. They covered the same territory over and over, watching for attackers and potential saboteurs attempting to infiltrate the lines. It was grueling work, tedious, and, to be perfectly honest, dangerous. In the four days it took to reach the river, every company under Charlie’s command had encountered rebel forces, with running skirmishes being the order of the day. While no one was killed, there were a number of injuries, most minor, a few serious.

Elizabeth had her hands full. She could not afford to stop and set up a field hospital, so men were treated in wagons as they moved forward. The weather had cleared; it was warm and with the sun beating down on the canvas used to shield the injured, the interior of the wagons was stifling.

Charlie, his hair plastered to his head with sweat, pulled Jack up to the moving mess tent for a quick lunch and some desperately needed water. He was hailed by Elizabeth.

He rode up to the wagon, and then paced Jack to ride along side it. He took off his hat and bowed from the saddle to Elizabeth. "Dr. Walker, how can I help you?"

"You can help me by finding a place to stop so I can treat these men properly," she growled as she ripped another bandage.

"You know General Sheridan has ordered us to make all possible speed. I fear I cannot stop until we reach the river, Doctor. I am sorry."

"Charlie, I cannot care for these men with the ruts in the road and the swaying of the wagon. Some of these men need stitches. I cannot do it under these conditions."

Charlie drew a deep sigh, then thought for a minute. "If I had your wagons ride toward the front of the line, until you find a place to pull off that is defensible, you could have about an hour or so before you would have to move again. Would that help?"

"I can make do with that. I just need some time to tend to the worst of this."

"All right, let me see to it." Instead of stopping for lunch and a drink, Charlie was off again, this time looking for young Captain Avery of Company I, whom he had just relieved from outrider service.

The days went on with running skirmishes until they reached the locks. The 13th held the northwestern perimeter, as Sheridan’s engineers destroyed the locks and made the upper James River impassible.

As the locks fell, the weather, which had been beautiful, changed again. A cold wind with rain blew in from the north; that meant mud. Winter was having her last, brief say.

The roads were muddy and slick as they moved out, south toward Cumberland County. The next goal was to reach the final rail line from Petersburg and Richmond to Lynchburg and the southern end of the Shenandoah Valley. The valley had been the breadbasket of the South; if they could cut the final supply line, the end was in sight. Charlie and his men were tired. It was showing in the way they moved, in the strain on their faces. It showed in the tired arc of the horses’ necks.

It only took a moment. Charlie was distracted; Jack was tired. The horse stepped wrong and caught his shoe on a hidden stone buried in the mud. It ripped the nails out of his hoof and the shoe off his foot. As Jack struggled to regain his balance, he strained the hock. Jack was dead lame.

Charlie cursed a blue streak.

He changed out horses for one of the reserves and they rode south, advancing a few miles a day until they reached the junction of Amelia, Prince Edward, and Nottoway Counties.

April 5, 1865

Dearest Rebecca,

There is a special quality on the eve of battle. It is a breathless waiting, a stillness that, no matter how I try, I will never be able to describe. In many ways, it is like the stillness of the early morning before the sun rises, when false dawn lights the sky with a silvery gray and one does not know what the day will truly bring.

Richmond has fallen. The Confederate army is in retreat. I pray the battle will be easy, that these men will see reason and know it is time to concede gracefully. I fear they will fight like cornered dogs.

I know no more than this. I love you with all my heart and soul. I love our children, though I have only met one of them. I long to be home, with you and them, in a world where war is no more. I pray to God above that I may be allowed to realize my dream, that my men and I will survive these last, terrible days.

I love you.

Charlie

With the fall of Richmond, Lee’s forces had no choice. They had to run –– south and west, towards Roanoke and then south into North Carolina –– or they had to surrender. Grant was behind them, coming from Richmond and Petersburg. Sheridan was there on the west ready to meet whatever Lee could throw against them and determined to close the path of escape.

They had spent much of the night in conference with Sheridan and his forward scouts. The land ahead was rolling hills, cut by Sailor’s Creek, a small waterway that fed into the Appomattox River. There were marshy bottomlands to the southwest. Merritt’s light infantry, supported by Charlie’s cavalry, were assigned to stop any attempt to slip through the shallow, marshy section of the creek. It would be hard going.

The men took up their positions at dawn. Waiting was one of those things all soldiers learned how to do. Charlie stayed on the heights above the expected battleground, waiting and watching. That was all they could do. Charlie saw some movement along the front line. Dewees was letting the men of Company D move forward too soon.

"Duncan! Get down there and get Dewees and his men back in line. Now!"

Duncan took off at a hard gallop.

"Richard, did we not tell that young idiot that holding the line was all important?"

"Yes, we did. What does the fool think he is doing?"

"Hell, if I knew I would do something about it. Byrnes warned me we would have trouble with him being over-eager. You want to go down there and give him hell or shall I?"

"I suppose I could do it. I have not really yelled at anyone today."

"Then go do it. But get back in a hurry. You still have to manage coordination with the artillery and the scouts tell me Gordon’s cavalry is coming our way with a bunch of supply wagons. I will need you here when he arrives."

Richard tossed a crisp salute. "Yes, Sir."

Charlie watched as Richard rode down to Company D’s position. He could see his second standing in his stirrups, shouting at Dewees. The first man who broke formation without advance notification might find himself taking fire from the Union artillery behind them.