Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

Charlie grinned to himself as he quickly donned his uniform to start the day. His gentle teasing and flirting had broken the pall of grief and pain that surrounded Miss Rebecca all night. Whistling to himself, he clattered down the stairs and off to the camp, anticipating an absolutely delightful afternoon in her company. And the devil take the biddies and their opinions.

--*--

The two went their separate ways that morning, each in a far more positive mood than the tasks before them would seem to indicate was reasonable.

Charlie worked with Polk and his company commanders to finish the detailed plans for the winter camp. They agreed to spread the companies across the property, so that each would be able to deal with their own horses, maintain their own cook tents and have at least some space. This would also put less demands on the lands and allow them to keep their horses safe from the inevitable attempts to "borrow" one or two. They decided that they would half-timber the tents, providing reinforcement against snow or heavy rain, as well as providing additional insulation for the heavy canvas. Each troop would also build a small berm around the outside of the tent, burying the edge of the canvas in the ground to prevent the wind from getting up under it, or even worse, under the ground cloth that served as the floor of the tent. It would also serve to divert any flowing water away from the interior of the tents. He issued orders for the men to work as quickly as possible. So far, the weather had been kind, but it was November, and the mild temperature and clear skies could not go on forever. Anyway, Charlie figured that the lumber would come in handy for Rebecca when the troops departed in the spring.

Troopers with specific skills from each company were identified to help prepare the stables as an infirmary for injured horses, the large stone barn as a hospital and the overseer’s house as Charlie’s headquarters. Samuelson was in charge of preparing the hospital, and was given one of the regiment’s precious Franklin stoves to keep the space warm for the sick and injured. His first concern was to get the barn clean and to take steps to create a special area that could be kept immaculate to use for the surgery. Dr. Walker was particular, and he did not want to disappoint her.

In the midst of this flurry of activity, Charlie found time to have a word with Tarant and MacFarlane about the little basket trap he had seen the day before, ensuring it would be ready for the afternoon trip. He also checked with Sergeant Jamison, who had already been into town for fresh, specialty supplies and to retain the services of a few local hands to help with the transportation of goods from the railhead to the camp. What Jamison had to say about the conditions in the colored town concerned Charlie. It seemed that emancipation without work for these people was not a particularly beneficial situation. Charlie made a note to warn the company commanders to be on the look out for petty thievery –– and to be stern but not harsh about it. On the other hand, it did suggest that he would have his pick of potential servants for the main house.

Rebecca also had her hands full that morning. Jocko had seen to it that she had a small number of troopers, led by Corporal Duncan, to continue the clean up and refurbishing of the main house. There were rooms that could shelter the extremely ill and provide a safe, quiet residence for Dr. Walker and her staff. The winter kitchen had a full stillroom attached to it, where medicines could be prepared as well. All of this had to be put in order. She sent the troopers up to the attic to discover anything that might be useful in terms of old furniture, bedding and other items. The troopers even set up a small carpentry shop to allow them to either repair what was usable or to rough together additional beds, chairs and tables to fill the voids.

Once she had gotten the boys to work, she spent a good bit of time going through her kitchen and basic supplies. Care was taken to create a list of all of the things she absolutely needed from town, and a few things that she did not really need, but had been missing. Last, but not least, she carefully looked over her supply of spices and vegetables, making sure she had everything she needed to make a beautiful chicken pileau. It seemed such a simple dish, but it was much more complex than most people thought. Rice with chicken, onions, green peppers, celery, saffron, tomato sauce, chicken broth and sweet chilies gently steamed together was a classic Charleston dish that she wanted to treat him with. It was her way of repaying him in part for all of the truly lovely things he had done for her.

As the morning drew to a close, she fixed herself a small bite of lunch and then went to decide on what to wear. Her first foray into town after her year of mourning had to present the right image. She must not be too forward, still very appropriate, but no longer a woman in the black weeds of deep grief. To be honest, getting rid of what she knew in her heart was a hypocritical adherence to social norms was a blessing. And black had never been her best color.

She chose a lovely blue-gray walking dress, modest in cut, quiet in color, acknowledging that the ‘‘acceptable’ colors for the second year were all soft, cool shades of blue, gray and lavender. But it was also the walking dress that most flattered her own coloring, the blue bringing out the gold in her hair, the green in her eyes and the soft pinks of her skin and lips. She wanted to look good for Charlie and to put the biddies that she knew would be ripe for any tidbit of gossip in their proper place.

--*--

Tarant and MacFarlane had outdone themselves. The little basket cart was shining. Shannon was too, groomed to a high golden gloss. A few ribbons and the little trap would be perfect for a May Day parade.

Charlie almost matched the little rig. He had dressed carefully, with every part of his gear shining with polish, carefully brushed, or starched. He had surrendered his usual hat for the dashing slope brimmed one with the curling egret feather, which was properly fluffed. He was, indeed, the picture of a cavalry officer.

Sliding into the seat of the trap, he clucked to Shannon and together they went off to present themselves for Miss Rebecca's approval. As they trotted up to the main house, Rebecca came out onto the portico. Charlie's eyes lit up with frank appreciation. She was lovely.

"I say, Colonel Redmond, your men do wonderful work." She moved down the steps, stopping to give Shannon a good scratch on the nose. "How are you today, my lovely girl?"

Silently, Charlie stepped down and offered her a hand up into the cart. As she settled herself he spoke reverently, "You are breathtaking, my dear."

"And you, as always, sir, are as handsome as anything."

He settled himself into the cart beside her and the two set off down the driveway.

"Thank you ma'am. I do try to maintain the appropriate image - especially when I am about to enter the lion's den. I call this my Daniel costume."

"You will do just fine, Colonel. I have the utmost faith in you." Rebecca chanced a glance at him before making her next comment. "Colonel, I would like to offer you an apology."

"Miss Rebecca, I told you this morning. You have nothing to be sorry for. I am flattered that you trust me enough to turn to me in your grief."

"Yes, but I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I took a some things out of storage yesterday and I suppose it just brought up a few less than pleasant memories."

"You did not make me uncomfortable, ma'am. You honored me with your trust. I hope that you know I will be there for you if ever you need a willing listener or a solid shoulder."

"Thank you. So few people would understand my feelings about my late husband. Not many people would take well to hearing that I did not love him and that I was not happy in my marriage." She looked to Charlie, realizing he might think her callous to speak of a soldier killed in battle in such a fashion. "I do not mean to sound harsh, but it was not a pleasant experience."

Charlie's eyes darkened. He knew well what being in an unloving family relationship could do to one's spirit. "I hope that he did not hurt you. Indifference is hard enough to bear, and you, my dear lady, are not one who deserves such pain of the soul."

"Well, he was...master of the house. I knew my place and I was not expected to want or achieve anything higher. I was the perfect show piece."

His voice was very low. "Did he hurt you?"

"That is not important any longer. Let us just say I learned my role well and how to do what was expected."

Charlie's jaw tightened as he tried to get the sudden swell of anger he felt toward the late Mr. Gaines under control. She certainly did not need his wrath; she only deserved his tenderness. Yet, the idea that this beautiful, vital and passionate woman had been used and cast aside touched the deepest wells of anger within his soul.

"So you see, Sir, occasionally I am plagued with night terrors. I just wish you had not been subjected to them."

When he could speak calmly, he tugged Shannon to a halt so that he could turn and look her in the eyes. In that moment, he was not the dashing colonel, or even the charming gentleman. He was, like her, the survivor of abuse, willing to do whatever necessary to get by.

"Miss Rebecca. I may understand more than you know. If you need to talk, if you need to cry or rail or anything else to purge your soul of this, I am here for you."

She laid her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You are very kind. I am sure that in your company all these unpleasant things shall to pass."

He lifted that trusting, gloved hand to his lips, and reverently kissed it. "Miss Rebecca, if it were in my power, I would take it all away today. Alas, I cannot. I can only offer you my understanding and my honor to protect you from it happening again."

"That is more than I have a right to hope for, Colonel." She caressed his cheek. "Simple words can not express how much..." She paused, stopping the first word that came into her mind, but allowing the next. "This, means to me."

No words came to Charlie's heart, just the honest desire to protect this woman, who was braver than he ever could be. She had stayed and endured. He had run. Before her quiet courage, he was humbled again. He looked deep into her eyes, wordlessly offering his soul and his support. Then he clucked to Shannon to move on. "Shall we go and brave the biddies? I am sure, with what you have endured, you are more than equipped to handle them."

--*--

Charlie stopped the buggy right in front of the mercantile. He climbed out; making his way around to Rebecca, he gave her his hand to assist her out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them. She rolled her eyes then looked to Charlie. "Cluck, cluck, cluck." She whispered, giving Charlie a wink.

He turned at the waist, to find two women watching them with their mouths practically hanging open. He turned back, wrapping Rebecca’s hand around his arm. "May I escort you?"

She tried to stifle a giggle but was not entirely successful. "My, my, Colonel, that evil streak just keeps getting longer and wider." She walked with him to the front door of the store. "But I also know you have things to do here, so please, sir, take care of your business. I assure you I will be fine."

He looked down at her. "Are you sure?"

"I am positive."

"As you wish, Ma’am. I will be back shortly."

"Take your time, Colonel. I am just going to get some supplies."

"Enjoy yourself, Miss Rebecca."

"I will, Colonel."

She watched him walk back to the buggy and climb in and she continued to watch as he drove down the street. Then she turned to find the ladies still watching her. She gave them a little wave then turned for the store.

"Why, Mrs. Gaines," Mr. Cooper walked around the counter to greet her. "It has been so long. How have you been?"

"Like everyone, Mr. Cooper, I have just been doing my best to ride out the current troubles."

"You look well, Mrs. Gaines."

"Thank you." She looked around the store, finding it stocked better than she had expected. "I have some supplies I need."

"Why of course. Have you a list? I will be happy to fill it for you."

She handed him the list she had made before Charlie had come to collect her. He unfolded it and looked over it carefully. His eyes widened and he looked back to her. "This is a rather long list Mrs. Gaines."

"Do you not have the items?"

"Yes, ma’am, I have most of this, but it is going to take a goodly sum of money."

She smiled as sweetly as possible considering the man had just insulted her. "Yes, Mr. Cooper, I realize this. I hope this might make a difference to you." She handed him the chit that Colonel Polk had given her. "As you can see, I have funds coming, I would hope that would be sufficient to reopen my account."

Mr. Cooper scratched his chin while he considered the paper. "I am not sure, Mrs. Gaines. This is not money, ma’am, and it is also drawn from the Yankee Army¼¼"

"Indeed it is, considering it is a regiment of Northern soldiers on my land and not Confederate troops."

"Ma’am¼¼"

She held up a hand. She was going to get the things she needed and maybe one or two things she did not need. And most of all she was going to get everything she needed to make Charlie dinner. "Mr. Cooper, I will tell you what, you reopen my account and if I do not come in and settle with you within ten days from the date on the chit, you may come out to Gaines Cove and pick five acres of my land that will suit you."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Mr. Cooper. I have complete faith that I will receive the funds promised me, however, if you are that nervous about it then you may take your pick of five of my best."

"On your word?"

"On my word, Mr. Cooper, and you know the Gaines word has always been good." Rebecca may not have truly mourned her husband but she was not past using his memory and standing in the community for a little advantage. "Do you think I would tarnish my husband’s good name? And after he gave his life in the war?"

"Of course not!" He was shocked that she would think he would suggest such a thing. "I will take care of this for you, Mrs. Gaines, but it will take me a few minutes."

"Take your time, Mr. Cooper. I am in no hurry." She made sure to snatch the chit from his hand and tuck it away.

While the shopkeeper scurried around pulling things from the shelves, Rebecca took the opportunity to look around. She moved first to a display of tobacco pipes. She remembered quite by accident that when Charlie had come to get her for dinner the night before, he had smelled faintly of strong tobacco. It was actually a very appealing smell on Charlie. Of course, she was beginning to wonder if there was anything about him she did not like.

She moved over to a small bin that held partial bolts of fabric. She looked through them, lifting them one by one. As she continued to look, she heard at least two women come through the door. She smiled to herself and simply waited.

"Why, is that Mrs. Gaines?"

Rebecca nearly laughed aloud when she heard Mrs. Cooper speak. She fingered a piece of blue cloth, giving it serious consideration.

"Why, yes, Grace, I do believe it is."

The blonde rolled her eyes before plucking the bolt from the bin and pulling it into her arms as she turned to face them.

"Mrs. Cooper, Mrs. Williams, how good to see you again." Rebecca rather liked Mrs. Cooper and had always gotten on well with her, but Mrs. Williams, the minister’s wife had most certainly always been a thorn in Rebecca’s side. You old bat. You say one word about Charlie and I will……

"You, too, Mrs. Gaines. Tell us, what brings you to town?" Mrs. William’s asked, with a raised disapproving brow.

"A buggy." She said in all seriousness, never breaking eye contact with the minister’s wife. Mrs. Williams had only made their strained relationship worse by commenting in mixed company about Rebecca’s failure to get pregnant within the first year of her marriage. The woman had implied that somehow Rebecca was less of a woman because of it and, coupled with the way her marriage was going, it was just one more thing that made her feel like property.

"Yes, we saw it being driven away by that," she paused, crinkling her nose as if she smelled something distasteful. "Man."

"Oh you mean Colonel Redmond. Colonel Charles Redmond?"

"Rebecca Gaines, do not dare tell us you are on a first name basis with him."

She ran her hand over the soft linen in her hands. "Why, yes. Yes I am." She watched as the disapproving looks crossed their faces. "And I must say, he is one of the most charming men I have ever met."

She thought they were going to swallow their tongues as the shock began to register. She realized that Charlie was not the only one with an evil streak. She knew she should stop but she just could not.

"He is also a fine horseman and he has a beautiful voice for reading poetry. If you ladies will excuse me?" She brushed past them, moving to the counter where Mr. Cooper was boxing up her purchases. "Mr. Cooper, this partial bolt, how much would you want for it?"

He looked at the fabric. "Well I suppose I could let you have it for, let us say five cents. It is an old bolt."

She placed it next to the box running her hand over it. "I think he will love it." She murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, Mr. Cooper. I forgot to put it on the list, would you happen to have any cinnamon?"

"I think I might have some around her somewhere. Going to do a little baking, Mrs. Gaines?"

"I am thinking about it." She smiled, then turned to the ladies. "Colonel Redmond is very fond of baked apples."

"If you do not mind my asking, Mrs. Gaines," Mrs. Cooper came up beside her. "What is it like having all those soldiers on your land."

"It was most certainly unnerving when they arrived, but even in these two weeks, I have grown quite accustomed to them being there. As a matter of fact, Colonel Redmond and his men will be wintering on my land. They will be here for several months."

"And I suppose," Mrs. Williams piped up even though Rebecca wished she had swallowed her tongue. "We will have to put up with them coming into town and taking what they want."

"Not at all, Mrs. Williams, Colonel Redmond is a very careful of his men. He will make sure they do not bother you."

"Rebecca," Mrs. Cooper whispered, looking around to make sure no one could hear her. "You are all right, are not you? You are not being forced……"

"Oh, no! Colonel Redmond and his men have been perfect gentlemen. They have even been helping me get Gaines Cove back into order."

"You are taking assistance from Yankee rabble?"

"Mrs. Williams, I figure it was the Yankees that did this to us. Why should they not fix it?"

"Cannot argue with that." Mr. Cooper snorted as he began writing Rebecca’s bill.

"I suppose they have been in your house."

"Several of them, several times. And if you must know, the Colonel and I dine together every night. Is there anything else you would like to know or do you have enough to put through the rumor mill?"

"Why I never……!" The older woman turned on her heal and stormed from the store.

"That is not what my overseer used to say." Rebecca mumbled.

Mr. And Mrs. Cooper burst out laughing. Rebecca just shook her head.

"Now, Rebecca," Mrs. Cooper laid her hand in the blonde’s arm in a motherly fashion. "It is all right to tell us. Are you really safe?"

"I am very safe, Mrs. Cooper. I promise you." She placed her hand on the other woman’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. "If I were not fine I would tell you and ask for help. Colonel Redmond and his men really have been perfect gentlemen. But thank you for being honestly concerned for my well being and not just looking for things to gossip about like that old hen." She jerked her chin in the direction Mrs. Williams had just departed.

"Oh, I cannot guarantee I will not gossip, but at least I can gossip about the truth."

"That is all I ask. You know if she has the chance to tell her version of it, I will be at the mercy of every soldier on my land."

"She does seem to remember things in her own unique way."

--*--

While Rebecca was meeting the social challenges of her little community, Charlie drove on to the area that Jamison had described as the colored town. He was greeted with a vision of a small clutch of shacks, patched together from whatever scrap was available, with raw sewage running in open gutters and gaunt figures already huddling over small fires because they did not have enough clothing for even this mild November day. The wind had picked up a bit since he had set out with Rebecca and gray clouds were starting to scud in from the northeast. He made a mental note to himself that this situation would have to be cleaned up or there was a chance of serious illness, as well as unrest and petty crime.

He stopped in the middle of the little town within a town and announced in his best field commander’s voice, "I am looking for some folk. I need a cook, a ladies maid, a housekeeper, and a general handyman." Immediately, virtually every able-bodied adult was lined up in front of him, looking hopeful.

"All right. Cooks first." Four women stepped forward and he quickly interviewed each of them. One young woman was a standout. Sarah had been an assistant cook for the Gaines household before Rebecca’s marriage. She had then been sent to the Washington household of a distant cousin of the late and unlamented Mr. Gaines to finish her training, and combined the skills of a traditional southern cook with some of the latest French styles. Her older sister, Beulah, had obviously been a big woman until the shortages of the war forced her to trim down. But she still had the muscle and solid build that Charlie associated with a good housekeeper, mostly because the mammy in his own childhood home had been built like her. Reg stood up and claimed the position of handyman, claiming skills with both basic carpentry, cleaning and a bit of experience with horses. Since both women seemed to feel he was a good Christian man and a hard worker, Charlie nodded his agreement.

That left the selection of a ladies maid for Rebecca. None of the people before him had any skills in this very elite calling for the servant class. But one girl caught Charlie’s eye. She was young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, skinny as a rail, and clearly shy. What got his attention was the way she tried to take care of herself. In this pigsty of a shantytown, her dress was clean and unwrinkled, her hair was carefully braided and combed and she had tied it back with a bit of grosgrain ribbon that was shiny with age but still carefully tended. Lizbet was what the others in the group called her. And Lizbet became the fourth servant that Charlie picked.

He gave them instructions to go to the mercantile and get a new suit of clothing each, including shoes and a winter coat, get their belongings together and report to the main house on the following day. The terms were simple. First, they had to satisfy Miss Rebecca. They had to be clean, neat and orderly, and do the work given to them. Assuming the work was satisfactory, he would pay them each a dime a day, payable monthly plus food, shelter and a new suit of clothes, including shoes, twice a year. They would get Sunday mornings and one afternoon during the weekday off to attend church and take care of their own affairs.

Those who were not hired looked so dejected that Charlie could not just leave. "I have just hired four of you. I have every expectation that we will find ways to create gainful employment for as many of you as I can. Until then, you may see my mess chief, Sergeant Jamison or one of his men every day at dinnertime for a bowl of rice and beans. None will be turned away. There may also be day work available from time to time while we are here in winter camp. I will set up a tent at the edge of the camp that you can report to every day to find out what day work is available. Any day worker will be paid according to his or her skills. I wish I could do better for you." With that, he left, eager to be gone from this depressing place.

--*--

He set a brisk pace back to the mercantile where he was to collect Rebecca. The condition of the negroes in that miserable collection of shacks offended him. They may have been slaves at one time, but they were still part of the community. Surely, the good people of Culpeper could have done something for them. Ah, but charity begins at home, and these ex-slaves are not worth the bone thrown to a starving dog, according to some. Well, lets see just how much we can shake these good folks up. Charlie was as loaded for bear as Rebecca.

Pulling up before the store, he looped the reins around the brake handle on the little trap. Shannon was so well trained that she was just as good when driving as she was when riding. She would stand, waiting for his return, and more than willing to resist any attempt to get her to move by any other individual. He brushed the dust off his coat and hat, and prepared to make a grand entrance into the store that served as a social center as well as a primary resource to the community. As he dismounted from the cart, he was entirely aware that every person there on the little main street was watching him. Give ‘‘em a good show, Charlie. He slowly looked up and down the street, seeking to make eye contact with every single person there. A small, wry smile twisted his mouth slightly, but did not make it to his eyes. Not one of the folks watching him had the nerve to face him head on.

Charlie stepped into the store. While he did not actually have to duck to enter, he did anyway, giving the impression of being taller than he actually was. He pulled his gloves off and tucked them into his belt. His hat came off with a flourish and took up residence under his left arm. Everyone in the main room came to a dead stop, staring at the tall man standing in the door. His presence filled the room.

A quick glance at Rebecca’s face told Charlie that she was not a happy person. While she was smiling politely, there was a guarded look to her eyes and a slightly pinched quality to her mouth that told him something was up. He smiled at her, and bowed slightly. "Miss Rebecca. I await your pleasure, ma’am."

He bowed to Mrs. Cooper, and stood, waiting for an introduction.

Rebecca shook herself. "Forgive me, Colonel. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper? May I present Colonel Charles Redmond? Colonel Redmond is the regimental commander of the troops who are currently staying on my property. Colonel Redmond, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper are my dear friends here in Culpeper."

Charlie bowed over Mrs. Cooper’s hand and rumbled in his lowest voice, "Enchantez, Madame. I have heard complimentary things of you, ma’am, but they cannot compare with the charm of your actual acquaintance."

Rebecca looked at Charlie with a slightly surprised look. The accent was back in full force and Charlie was not giving the folks in the store even a moment to do anything other than respond politely to the very formal, very southern gentleman standing before them, even though he was wearing Yankee blue.

Turning to Mr. Cooper, the Colonel advanced and offered his bared hand. "Ah, Mr. Cooper. I have heard very good things of you, sir, from my quartermaster. Please be assured, I have been advised by my commanding officer that we will convert to a cash, rather than scrip basis within the next ten days. Your cooperation with my staff has been greatly appreciated."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Charlie pulled out his personal wallet. "I have retained some servants for my comfort as we winter over here. It is my intention to pay them on a monthly basis, but for them to be prepared to serve my needs, they need to be properly clothed. I hope you do not mind that I have sent them to you for those needs, sir. If I may, here is 50 dollars as a initial payment on my tab." He laid two golden double eagle twenty-dollar coins and a handful of silver dollars on the counter.

Mr. Cooper’s eyes bulged. He had not seen that much real cash coming from one customer in a long time.

"Sarah, Beulah, Reg and Lizbet should be visiting shortly. Please, sir, take proper care of them. I would like them to each have a new suit of clothing, shoes and a winter coat. Thank you." Mr. Cooper could only stand there and nod.

Charlie turned to Rebecca, who was enjoying this bravura performance. "Miss Rebecca? Are you ready, or shall I wait."

"No, Colonel, you need not wait. I have the things I need immediately all boxed and ready, and Mr. Cooper has promised to send me the rest of my supplies."

"Then, ma’am, as soon as Mr. Cooper’s clerk has loaded the trap, I will drive you back to your home."

He turned to Mrs. Cooper, and bowed over her hand. "Ma’am, I trust we will meet again." A polite nod to Mr. Cooper, and Charlie extended his arm to Rebecca.

Escorting her to the trap, they waited, chatting about the weather growing colder, as the slightly rattled clerk loaded the boxes and packages in the back of the trap. The Coopers and the other folks who had been in the store straining to overhear the conversation between the dashing Colonel and Mrs. Gaines all trailed them to the boardwalk to bid them farewell. He then settled Rebecca in the little cart and carefully tucked the lap rug over her knees, before climbing in and clucking Shannon into action.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the rather overwhelmed citizens of Culpeper, Rebecca laid her hand on his arm. "Lovely act, Daniel. The lions may be tamed yet."

They rode home with Rebecca regaling Charlie with stories of the absurdity of her neighbors, all of the lovely, ridiculous, salacious stories that every small town has about its denizens, laughing together gently over the silly situations that small town self righteousness can create. As they approached the manor, Charlie brought up the subject of house servants. Rebecca had assumed that he had hired help for the camp, and had not paid too much attention to the specifics. She was in for a surprise.

"Miss Rebecca, I have done something without your permission. However, with all of the strains that my troops and I are placing on you, I feel its only fair to provide you with some help to manage the house –– other than my troopers. So I have hired some staff for you. If you do not like them, or do not find them acceptable, I will be more than happy to find others that are more suitable."

"Thank you, Colonel, it is very considerate of you, but I am afraid I cannot afford servants at this time."

"Oh, no, Miss Rebecca, I did not mean to place this cost on you. These folks are for my convenience, to ease the burden I have placed on you. I will attend to their needs; they are coming to attend to yours. Please say you will accept them."

Rebecca flushed. The financial constraints that prevented her from hiring any help were magically gone because of this man, and there was hope for her future after the war. How much did she owe him? How much could she repay him and with what?

The storm that had been threatening all afternoon broke just as they returned to the Manor. Cold rain and a driving wind hit hard. Charlie left her to rejoin his men and manage efforts to meet this sudden storm with minimal damage. She went to her room and changed into her daily work clothes, thinking that with this storm, Charlie would need a warm, hearty meal. Within a matter of minutes, a young trooper appeared at the kitchen door. "Colonel asked me to tell you that he doubts he will be available for dinner, Ma’am. The men need him now."

So, instead of creating the lovely pileau she wanted for Charlie, Rebecca put a pot of soup on to cook. When he finally did manage to make it to shelter, he would need it.

Chapter 7

Monday, November 14, 1864

Charlie had returned Rebecca to the main house, escorting her to the door, and then hurried off to the camp. He had hoped the weather would hold for a few more days; he had not been so lucky. The rain pounded down and the wind howled out of the northeast, ripping at the canvas of the tents that had not yet been reinforced for the winter. Anything that was not securely tied down was either snapping in the near gale force wind or had disappeared already.

He turned Shannon and the little trap over to one of Tarent’s troopers, and stomped into the officer’s mess that also served as the situation room for his senior staff. Polk was there, along with Jocko and Major Swallow of Company A. The rain that had hit like a sledgehammer had soaked all four men as they gathered to coordinate activities.

"A quick run down gentlemen. Swallow, how are we doing with getting the injured and sick into the stone barn?"

"Colonel, we had not completed preparing the space, but I have men working already in transporting the wounded and sick in the infirmary tent over to the barn. We have rigged a sort of enclosed sledge to take them one at a time, bed and all, over there. I also have men stationed around the infirmary tent to make sure it does not blow down."

"All right, Swallow. I assume you need something or you would not be here. What is it?"

"Well, sir, if we could have a couple of the mules, I think we will be able to go forward more quickly."

"You really think that you could get mules to cooperate in this weather?"

"Well, sir, we could try."

"Jocko, get MacFarlane and see what you two can do to help with this. And, Swallow? Do not sacrifice what works for this scheme. Use another carrier with the mules. I do not want a bolting mule to destroy the sledge you are using now."

Swallow nodded his agreement and hurried out.

"Aye, Colonel C. I brought you your mucking clothes. Figured you would be here."

"Thanks, Jocko."

Jocko followed Swallow out of the tent. The Colonel had always made it clear that the most important issue was the welfare of the men. They were on the front line of that command.

Turning to Polk, Charlie addressed the next most pressing issues, the condition of the horses and the supplies.

"Well, Polk, how bad is it likely to be?"

"Sir, Tarent and some of the boys from Company D have gotten the injured animals into the old stables. Company B is out trying to make sure that the horses in the paddocks and fields are all sheltered and that there are no fence breaks."

"Well, that is a relief. Small blessings that this place is already designed for horses. Did Hoffstader’s boys manage to finish walking the fence perimeters before the storm broke?"

"I honestly do not know. They were out in the field all day and Hoffstader was with them. They have not yet reported."

"Have you sent anyone out to check on Hoffstader and give him a hand if he needs it?"

"Not yet."

"We will get to that as soon as we can, then. How are the men’s quarters fairing? Anybody on battening down the tents?"

"Major Andrews commandeered Company F and H, as well as his own boys, to try and secure the troops quarters. He is looking pretty harried."

"Good man, Andrews. What about the supplies? Did you get the new shipment under safe cover?"

"Mostly. Jamison and his boys have the worst job. If those beans, the rice, or the salt pork get wet, we will have a real problem. I have put all of the rest of the men available on getting the supplies stowed in the various buildings around the farm, and trying to protect whatever is left that they cannot stow."

"Well, lets split our efforts, my friend. You want the infirmary or the mess tents?"

"Take the infirmary, Colonel. Some of the original boys from the 13th still do not know you. It will help. Anyway, I am used to heaving sacks of supplies –– its what I do every time I go back to headquarters to harangue the quartermaster’s boys."

Polk hurried out, and Charlie tied off the tent flap, to gain a few minutes of quick privacy to change. He pulled on the heavy woolen britches and tunic, belting them tightly to at least somewhat protect himself from the wind and rain. He traded his plumed hat for a beat up old forage cap and set out to help move the wounded men to shelter.

The afternoon merged into a night of cold rain and high winds. Once the injured men were settled, Charlie set out to check on the horses. Two had broken through an old, rotten section of fence, trying to find shelter from the wind in the stand of trees on the other side. Working with Hoffstader’s men, Charlie helped to calm the injured beasts. Tarent did the best he could for the animals, with Charlie’s assistance, but for much of those four miserable, cold wet hours, Charlie could be heard cursing under his breath about the loss of the veterinary surgeon.

The next near disaster could have been much worse. The regiment had not been on location long enough to establish a pattern of drainage ditches. The mess area was inundated with a constant wash of muddy water across the floor, first under the tents’ ground cloths and then over the top. Anything on or near the floor was in danger of being soaked. The men worked desperately to get the sacks of beans and rice, flour and oats up above the water. In the end, the only casualties were one sack of flour and a number of pairs of boots. The uncured leather that had been used to make them had started to shrink as soon as they got wet.

The night went on with similar problems cropping up. One row of tents was flattened when the first one was caught by the ripping wind and took the rest of the tents around it down in an ugly domino effect of tent pegs and poles, guy ropes and ripped canvas.

At Charlie’s orders, Jamison took over the summer kitchen, providing a secure place where fires could be lit and maintained. Through the night, the cooks kept kettles of soup and cauldrons of coffee going, to give the men something warm to keep them going through the bitter night.

--*--

Rebecca spent most of the rest of the day, cleaning and putting things away. She knew she needed to get the house presentable before Dr. Walker and Mr. Whitman arrived. She had to admit she was very excited about meeting Dr. Walker. The idea of a woman doctor astounded her. She had so many things she wanted to ask her, it would be nice to have someone to talk to who might understand some of the things that she had begun feeling recently.

She also was quick to prepare soup for the evening. Charlie would need it when he came in. She listened to the storm picking up. The temperature had dropped and the rain had started. She knew it was an early winter storm settling in for several hours. Living in the area all her life she knew how nasty the storms could get.

After making sure she had fires started to keep the chill out of the house as much as possible, she returned to the kitchen to find the leak in the roof had returned and was relentlessly letting rain pour into the room. She found a large tub and placed it as best she could under the leak, now hoping the rain would let up before the kitchen flooded.

Then it happened. She sat down in the chair at the table and started totaling everything up in her head. She had a regiment of Union troops on her land. She had agreed to let them stay for the winter. She was sharing her bed with their commander, who had quite the secret to hide. More staff was expected and they would need to be housed in a residence that most certainly was not ready to receive guests. The damn roof was still leaking and she was not entirely positive but she was pretty sure she was falling in love with Charlie Redmond.

She put her face in her hands and just sat there, not quite able to understand all that had happened in the last few days. I have to pull myself together and just do what needs to be done. I cannot let myself think like that. There are so many reasons I cannot feel that way.

She stood, moving to the window to watch the troopers running in the rain and performing their duties. She sighed and her heart and mind laughed at her, she too found herself fighting her own demons. Then there are a few good reasons why you should. But Colonel Redmond, most certainly would not be interested in a widowed woman. A woman who was never much of a wife to a man who lost his life fighting in the war. You are a woman who could not even properly mourn him. You did not love a real man, how could you consider loving this atrocity of nature.

"Stop!" Rebecca growled out loud, shaking her head to clear it. She took a deep breath, then returned to the soup she was preparing for Charlie.

--*--

It became clear as afternoon became evening and evening became night that Colonel Redmond would not be returning to the house. Rebecca kept checking at the windows for any sign of him. She paced incessantly back and forth and room to room, trying to find something to occupy her mind so she would not needlessly worry about him. Soon she realized how futile the effort was. She was simple going to worry about him and there was nothing to be done about it.

To try and calm her frazzled nerves she fixed a cup of mint tea and took a book into the rear parlor. She settled near the fire and began reading, but soon realized that over the course of the last few nights, she and Charlie had done the same thing in this very room and it only made her miss and worry for him more.

Finally, she decided to go to bed, but once she was settled there, the overpowering essence of Charlie lingering in the bedcovers made rest difficult and sleep impossible. She rose from the bed; taking a warm quilt, she moved to the rocking chair next to the window and watched the shadows of movement from the camp where Charlie was working on this horrible night.

--*--

Tuesday, November 15, 1864

Around dawn, Polk and Charlie met over a quick cup of coffee that looked more like thick ink. At least it was warm and there was no grit or mud in it.

"How bad is it from your point of view, Richard?"

"Not anywhere near as bad as it could be, Charlie. I think your luck is holding, at least somewhat. We lost one wagon –– broken axel –– but managed to save the supplies in it. I have a bunch of boys with sprains and turned ankles. And the damned boots they sent us are a real problem."

"From my end, the sick and wounded are safe and dry, at least, which is more than I can say for the rest of us. We lost a few tents, and those troopers’ personal effects are all soaked, but it could have been worse. We also have a few injured horses."

"Well, it is a good thing that Dr. Walker was delayed by the weather. We certainly would not have been ready to greet her properly."

Charlie raised his eyebrow at that comment, and grunted noncommittally. Which one of us would have had to ‘‘prepare’ to greet Elizabeth? I wonder what is going on there. The two men stood together, silent, contemplating the work that would have to be done to repair the damage. At least the wind had fallen and the rain was now just a steady, soaking rain. Cold, gray morning was illuminating a scene of mixed mayhem and mud.

"Well, guess we better go start fixing the damage."

"Yes, sir, boss, sir." Polk grinned through his mud-spattered beard and they went back out into the muck.

The day proceeded with methodical misery. Every foot of fencing in all of the paddocks and fields was checked and several critical sections were repaired. Each horse had to have his feet cleaned of the mud and debris that packed into their hooves, lest they have to deal with hoof rot and bruises from small stones trapped in the mud. Racks were built to keep all foodstuffs above water level, and the men were set to work building a series of berms and drainage ditches around the camp to try to keep the ground at least somewhat dryer and firmer.

As the sun set, Charlie finally took himself up to the main house to check on Rebecca and hopefully catch a quick bath and a few hours of sleep. The colonel had been up since before dawn of the previous day, and soaked continuously in icy mud for a full day. It was time.

--*--

Charlie came around to the back of the house, and knocked on the door of the winter kitchen, hoping that someone –– Rebecca or Duncan or one of the new servants –– was there to let him in. He was muddy and wet, so did not want to tramp the filth through the main house.

Rebecca was there, just sitting in a rocking chair beside the open fire. A pot of soup was set on a spider at the edge of the glowing coals; a kettle was simmering, ready for tea. The soft knock on the door roused her from her thoughts and she rose quickly and opened the door, hoping that it was Charlie.

"Colonel Redmond. Come in. My Lord, you are soaked. Here, let me help you." She threw a woolen blanket around his shoulders and led him to the chair beside the fire. "I have been so worried about you. When you did not come in last night, I …… I thought perhaps you had been hurt." As she spoke, she bustled around the room, catching a mug and filling it with the broth from the soup kettle. She thrust the hot cup into his hands. "Drink up, you need the warmth. I hope at least you got a little sleep last night, Colonel. My lord, you cannot stay in those wet things, you will catch your death of cold."

Charlie just sat there as she bustled around and chattered away like a mother hen. Every part of him felt frigid, sore, battered and stiff. Sitting in a warm place, with the cup of hot broth cradled between his hands and warming his frozen fingers helped some. He knew he needed to get clean and dry, but, at the moment, moving was beyond him.

Rebecca stopped and looked at him closely. "Colonel. Colonel?" He looked up at her. "I have a hot bath ready to be filled for you, and then a warm bed. Let me help you." He nodded in tired agreement. The idea of her helping him undress made Charlie uncomfortable. Hell, the idea of anyone helping him undress made Charlie uncomfortable. Usually Jocko pulled his boots off for him, and then left him to his own devices. But he had sent Jocko to bed hours ago, and right now, there were no other alternatives.

Rebecca pulled the small tub in front of the fire and half filled it with water from the boiler, topping it with cool water from the cistern pump until it was warm but not hot. She knew that, given how cold Charlie’s skin was to her touch, that a bath that was too hot would be painful.

She then carefully eased the blanket from his shoulders. Kneeling in front of him with her back to him, she lifted one booted foot and gave it a hard tug, pulling the mud-encrusted leather from his foot. The other boot was more stubborn, and Charlie had to brace his sock clad foot against her back to give her enough leverage to pull it off.

She turned to him expectantly. Charlie silently drained the mug of broth. "Thank you, Miss Rebecca. I can handle the rest myself."

"I do not think so, Colonel. Let me help. You still have stitches in your shoulder, you are cold and wet and muddy, and I doubt if you have the energy to take care of yourself properly." She stepped close to him and began efficiently unbuttoning the heavy wool tunic he was wearing. Embarrassed, Charlie looked down at her hands working the buttons through the stiff cloth, then signed and unbuckled his belt. The tunic came off quickly, then the sodden cotton shirt under it. She was just as efficient with the bindings that were so much a part of Charlie’s life.

Rebecca stepped back from the tall figure standing before her, dressed only in britches and socks. The contrast was startling. In one moment, Charlie went from being a tall, lean, well-built man to being one of the most elegant and unusual creatures Rebecca had ever seen. There were muscles in Charlie’s arms and chest similar to a man’s but more fluid, more graceful. Her breasts were small and firm, with the nipples erect in the cool air. She could see the muscles around Charlie’s ribcage and those of her belly, each muscle defined. The skin under her shirt was pale, almost translucent and lightly marked with blue veins. For a moment, it was as if she were looking at a beautiful carving, done in the finest marble, of an ancient Amazon warrior. Rebecca forgot to breath for a moment. Charlie slowly turned the most remarkable shade of red, starting with his ears and working its way down his body to disappear into his britches.

She shook herself. "Turn around and sit on this stool. I need to look at that shoulder." Carefully, Rebecca examined the injury. It was healing cleanly, with no sign of the infection that had been there when she first treated it. While the scar would always be there, it was now a healthy pink, not the angry red it had been when she first treated it. "I think I can take the stitches out." She fetched her embroidery scissors from her sewing basket and used them to snip the stitches, pulling each one out carefully.

"There. Now you can soak your whole body in the tub without having to worry about keeping the stitches dry. In you go, Colonel."

Charlie turned his back to her and quickly slipped out of his britches and socks and into the tub. The warm water against his cold skin prickled and burned for a few minutes until his body started warming up. He relaxed, sliding down and curling into a ball, allowing him to sink into the water up to his neck. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the edge of the tin bath. The wonder of the woman who had done this for him made his heart beat a little faster, and kept him awake when sleep should have already claimed him. A silent prayer of thanks went up from Charlie’s soul to the God that at times had been his only confidant and companion. She waited for me, made me soup, made a safe place for me to get clean. And she was worried about me.

About me! Oh, Lord, thank you for giving me this time with her. Thank you for letting her look at the real me and not turn away in disgust.

Charlie shivered in sudden shock. Rebecca had taken a soapy washcloth and stroked his shoulders and neck with it before dropping it over his shoulder. "Here, my dear Colonel. You still look like a mud puppy."

Charlie sat up in the tub and began to scrub himself clean. Rebecca could not resist watching those limber muscles move under the surprisingly alabaster skin. Her eyes fell again on the old scars crisscrossing Charlie’s back. Who could have done such a thing to him. To her. Oh, Lord. I have got to figure this out.

"Tilt your head back, Colonel." Rebecca eased her confusion by doing what she had always done. By going to work on the thing at hand that most needed care; and hoping the rest of the situation would sort itself out eventually. Right now, getting the mud out of Charlie’s hair was the most obvious thing that needed to be done.

The bath was concluded as quickly as possible. Each had their reasons for wanting to hurry through it. Charlie did not want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. And if Rebecca kept looking at him and tending to him in his current state of undress, the arousal she inspired in him would be more than a little uncomfortable, even in his current state of exhaustion. Rebecca wanted to touch Charlie, to explore the feel and texture of those muscles and skin, because Charlie was, without question, the most fascinating thing she had ever seen, combining the best of both genders. He was a strong woman, a delicate man or maybe something entirely different.

For now, the nightshirt that had been warming by the fire was Charlie’s immediate objective. To get dry and warm, and covered, and then get some sleep were all that he was capable of for now.

Rebecca insisted he get another mug of broth, which he took with him as they went upstairs to the bedroom. She had built a small fire in the room, and it had burned down to glowing coals. Shoveling a few into the bed warmer, Rebecca ran the copper pan under the covers, warming the cool sheets before Charlie gratefully tumbled into the bed. He was asleep within seconds of his head touching the pillow. She gently tucked the comforter around him and stood beside the bed just looking at his face, relaxed and somehow innocent in sleep, regardless of the horrors he had seen.

Then she turned, banked the fire and trudged downstairs to try and rescue his mud caked clothing.

--*--

Charlie’s dream began much as it always had when he was hurt, tired or sick as a child. He had not had this dream in almost twenty years. She was small, still wearing the short white dress and stockings of a very young child. And there were warm arms around her, a soft shoulder to rest her head on, a safe haven when the world was too much for the little girl. A low voice, softly accented would sing, sometimes in French, sometimes in English, songs that the child loved.

The water is wide, I cannot get o’er

Neither have I the wings to fly.

Give me a ship that can carry two,

And both will cross, my love and I.

The child looked up, trusting and safe, into the pale blue eyes of one long missed person.

"Maman."

The ice-eyes smiled.

Charlie faded back into dreamless sleep.

--*--

Thursday, November 17, 1864

Rebecca woke, quite early, for some unknown reason. Clearly, it was still very dark out, and Charlie was still curled up behind her with a strong arm wrapped around her waist. Actually, truth be told, it was she that always initiated the contact once they were both in bed. She would lie on her side and listen until Charlie’s breathing slowed to a constant rhythm, and then she would roll over and get as close as she dared without waking her companion.

She did not realize how much she had missed and craved the warmth and comfort of another body until Charlie began sharing her bed. To her surprise and once that passed, her great delight, the Colonel always moved closer, wrapping her in strong arms and making her feel very, very safe as well. It had been years since she slept as well as she did when Charlie shared her bed.

And two nights ago, when he had not come in because of the storm, she had not only worried about the officer, but she realized she missed him as well. She had a very difficult time falling asleep, finding it impossible until she rolled over and pulled Charlie’s pillow into her arms.

Then she heard the noise that had disturbed her slumber. It was Charlie. There was a quiet but very persistent wheeze coming from the Colonel that was not her normal soft snore. Carefully Rebecca rolled over and placed a hand to Charlie’s face. She felt the skin under her hand. It was so hot it was almost painful to touch. Moving away slowly, she got up from bed, quickly lighting a lamp to really get a good look at her companion. Charlie’s skin was reddened considerably and slight beads of perspiration had broken across her forehead.

"Good Lord, Charlie, I told you, you would catch your death out there in that storm." Moving to the other side of the room, she poured a basin of water from the pitcher and collected cloths from the cabinet underneath. Taking it back to the bed, she placed the wet cool cloths on Charlie’s forehead and neck.

The Colonel stirred, coughing as he came further into wakefulness. It did not take long for him to realize he felt awful. He had not felt this bad since Jocko assured him it was all right to ‘‘have just one more’ when they had visited the local bar outside of Sedonia, Missouri that housed a house of quiet, or in some cases not so quiet, pleasure.

"Ungh……" Was all he could manage before trying to lick impossibly dry lips.

Gently, Rebecca brushed a damp cloth across Charlie’s lips to help the process. "You are sick." She whispered needlessly.

Charlie was very well aware of the fact he was sick. If it were not for the tender caring of the woman at his side, the good Colonel would wish himself dead, so he would feel better. His body was hot, his chest, head and stomach hurt as if he had been kicked by the biggest horse in the stables. Closing his eyes to keep the room from spinning and his stomach from rolling, he merely nodded his head. Gently.

"Guess who is staying in bed today, Colonel Redmond."

The thought of protest crossed his mind. Then the rolling sensation crossed his stomach. The protest tucked its tail between its legs and dutifully lay down in the corner of Charlie’s mind.

"Jocko……" He rasped, softly for fear of yet another coughing jag.

"You leave it to me, Charlie. I will see to it that we get word to Jocko."

"Thank you."

"And in the meantime, Charlie Redmond, you will stay in this bed and you will do everything I tell you to do."

"Yes, Ma’am." Charlie just really felt too bad to argue. Besides, he was learning rather quickly that Rebecca Gaines had a stubborn streak a mile wide and when her mind was set to something, it was just better not to argue, because when she was riled, Rebecca could talk the ear off the Devil.

A smile curled at the Colonel’s lips when another cool cloth was place across his burning forehead and gently fingers combed through his damp hair. He could feel her breathing on his cheek and hear her whispering in his ear. "Rest, Charlie, I will be right back with something to help your chest."

Unable to open his eyes for fear of what would happen to the contents of his stomach, he listened as she left the room. He could hear a slight creaking in the stairs as Rebecca descended them.

He pushed down the covers, feeling far to hot with them on. A shaky hand traveled to his nightshirt and he felt the wetness that had been absorbed from his sweating skin. He moaned as his hand dropped back to the bed. Turning his head slowly, he could see it was still very dark out and he wondered what woke Miss Rebecca.

Then he realized he must have been fussing in his sleep and awakened her. He listened as she made her way back up the stairs, holding a plate with a steaming towel on it. He wanted to tell her he would be out of her way soon, that he would go back to his tent until he felt better, but the words just would not pass through his dry mouth and thick tongue.

Suddenly he had no choice but to open his eyes when he felt the button being opened on his nightshirt. He turned his head and looked at her with wide, startled eyes.

"Relax, Colonel, it is only a mustard plaster for your chest. It is all right, I am not going to hurt you."

Being hurt was the last thing on Charlie’s mind. The first thing was the gentle touch of this lady’s hand as she applied the medicine cloth to his chest. They never broke eye contact the entire time it was being done and Rebecca’s sweet smile reminded him it was okay. He need not worry; he was just as safe with her as she felt with him. She would not tell his secret or betray his trust.

"Relax." She whispered again.

His mind began to reel with her tender touches, continuously replacing old clothes with fresh wet ones to cool his fevered brow. He closed his eyes, absorbing the comfort she was offering. It had been a very long time since someone other than Jocko or Dr. Walker had taken care of him. He imagined that the man who would eventually have Rebecca as a wife would be the luckiest man alive. Charlie only hoped that whoever it would be would have the good sense to cherish the woman. He relaxed even further, knowing that he was falling asleep and unable to stop it.

Rebecca watched as Charlie’s eyes closed. She could not help but smile. She did feel sorry that the Colonel was sick, but falling into a peaceful slumber as he was, she felt good that she was able to relieve some of the distress. She brushed her fingers through damp hair, smoothing it back.

"Rest well, dear Charlie." She placed a tender kiss on the Colonel’s forehead, lowered the wick on the lamp and quietly left the room to let Charlie rest.

As the sun came up, Rebecca saw Sergeant Jackson, riding up to the house. She moved the pot of mint tea she had been preparing for Charlie to a hot plate on the stove, then moved to the backdoor. Opening it, she smiled at Charlie’s friend as he climbed the steps.

"Good morning, Sergeant Jackson."

"Good morning, Ma’am. I am here to inquire about Colonel Redmond. He has not returned to camp this morning."

"Yes, Sergeant, I know. Colonel Redmond is quite ill this morning. He is upstairs asleep."

"Ill?" Jocko’s brows came together. "Should I send the medic?"

"No, Sergeant. It is a cold. A bad one I am afraid, but just a cold. I can take care of the Colonel. There is no need to bother your medic. He is upstairs in the master bedroom if you would like to go see him. I am making him some mint tea. I doubt he will be able to hold down much more than that."

"Yes, Ma’am, I do need to speak with him."

"Up the stairs, last door on the right."

"Thank you, Ma’am."

She returned to tending to the tea, listening to the sound of Sergeant Jackson’s boots as he climbed the stairs.

After the sergeant left to carry out the Colonel’s orders for the day, Rebecca prepared a tray of mint tea and warm bread. Returning to the bedroom, she found Charlie rolled on his side with his back to her. "Colonel?" She inquired softly in order not to wake him if he was sleeping.

Slowly he rolled over, opening blood shot eyes and gracing her with a smile. "Miss Rebecca."

"I brought you a little breakfast."

"I do not think……"

"Hush. You need to understand that while you are under my care, Colonel, you will do as I say."

He nodded. "Yes, Ma’am."

Placing the tray on the floor, she helped Charlie sit up, with his back against the headboard. Taking a moment to fluff his pillows and straighten the blankets. Then she picked up the tray and placed it across his lap. "This is just mint tea with a little honey. It will ease your stomach. Try and eat a bit of the bread too." She poured the tea, before taking a seat on the bed next to Charlie. "Come on now. Just a little, to make you feel better and help you keep your strength up."

Charlie found the tea extremely soothing. He had not really noticed until now but his throat was raw and sore as well.

He closed his eyes, savoring the soothing steam from the cup and the soft aroma. That was, however, an error. As soon as he did, his head started spinning. Panicking a bit, he opened his eyes and thrust the cup into her hands. "Uh. Basin. Please"

Rebecca had been expecting this unfortunate turn of events and quickly placed a basin at the side of the bed and helped Charlie roll onto his side, with his head just slightly off the edge of the bed. She sat patiently and rubbed soothing circles on his back as he tried to decide if he were going to be sick.

Taking careful deep breaths, Charlie focused on the top of the small chest of drawers across the room from him until his rebellious stomach decided that the tea was acceptable and would be allowed to remain. He allowed himself to roll back onto the pillows and just collected himself.

"Thank you. I was afraid that it was not going to stay put. You have been so kind to care for me, Miss Rebecca." Just those few words seemed to tire him.

"It is my pleasure, Colonel. It is the least I can do for you. I want you to rest and get better. Your men are going to need you." And I am going to need you. That last thought startled Rebecca for a moment, but she realized it was very true. She and Charlie had started a hen war in town and she was not going into the battle alone.

"Perhaps I could have a little more tea? Your kind caring cannot help but make me feel better soon, ma'am."

Charlie lay there, trying to be gallant. Well, trying to be civil. Just talking was a strain. Maybe the bed would just absorb me. It would feel better than this.

Rebecca helped him with the tea, smiling gently, wishing there was more she could do for him. "The good news is the storm has let up. A little too late for you I am afraid."

Charlie groaned. "Oh Lord. My men. How are my men? Did Jocko come by? Is Polk taking care of them? How much damage?"

She ran her fingers through his hair. "I know you do not feel well, Charlie, but do not you remember Sergeant Jackson coming by earlier? You sent him off with his orders for the day."

Without thinking, Charlie leaned his head into her hand. He felt so miserable and her touch felt so good. He wanted to just lay his head on her breast and be held like a child. A vague memory flitted through his mind, of a lovely, delicate woman with dark hair and laughing blue eyes who had held him in her lap when he was small and sick and made it better.

After she left, there was no one who took care of him when he was sick. Until now. Unbidden, and unwanted, tears came to his eyes.

"Oh, Charlie," She soothed. "It is going to be all right. You just need to rest. I will take good care of you, you need not worry about a thing." She just wanted to hold him and make him believe it the way she did.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, leaning back against the pillow again. "Oh yes. Yes. I remember. The damage is not as bad as I feared." Turning to look into her eyes, needing at least a little more contact, he felt an aching loneliness that, coupled with his illness, made him more miserable.

The look in his eyes was one she had never seen before. It was the look of a child, a lonely, lost, miserable child. Then he dropped his eyes to her hand, lifting it and tenderly kissing the back of her hand. "Thank you. Perhaps I could handle a little bread?"

She broke off small pieces of bread feeding them to him from her own hand. "Is there anything more I can do for you? You will ask me if there is, will you not? Do not make me guess, Colonel, it is hard telling what I will do to you if left to my own devices." She teased a bit as he took another bite of the bread.

In a very small voice, punctuated by his careful chewing and swallowing of the small bit of bread, he responded, "I do not know what to ask. Usually when I am sick, I just stay in my tent and Jocko brings me water every so often."

A coughing fit took him for a moment, but the tickle in his throat was eased by another sip of the tea that Rebecca handed to him. "Eventually, I get better."

He continued to eat the bread, savoring the feather light touch of her fingers against his lips as she fed him.

"Well, you will need more than water to get through this. If you can think of anything, and I mean anything, that will help you. Do not be afraid to speak up."

"Please, just stay with me." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Just being with her made him feel better. It had been so long since anyone cared for him - just for him, that he craved this companionship like a dying man craves water.

"I swear to you, Charlie, I am not going anywhere. I will be right here with you. I promise."

He caught her hand and brought it to his cheek. It felt so cool and so soft. His voice was husky, but she could not tell if it was because of the cold or something else. "You are so kind to me, Miss Rebecca. I am sorry to be so childish and demanding. I just……" He looked into her eyes as he slowly, reluctantly let go of her hand. Weakened by the cold and fever, shaken by the impact of the memory of his mother who had died when he was only four, all of the pain and loneliness and despair of his life showed in that moment.

"Shush, now do not be ridiculous. You are not being the least bit demanding. And I told you I enjoy taking care of you. In a few short weeks, you have given me back something I did not realize was missing. It is nice to have someone who needs me again."

"I did not mean to impose. But it does feel nice to be tended. I... I have not had anyone take care of me like this since I was very small. You could spoil me. Why, if this was how you take care of sick people, I might have to get sick more often." A weak attempt at humor was about all Charlie could manage right now, but he had to do something. He was desperate to get the relationship back to a more even keel, or he was going to break down and beg to be held.

Rebecca sighed, shaking her head. Colonel Redmond was a tough nut to crack, it was becoming clearer with each passing day. "Colonel, let us get one thing very clear. You are not imposing." There was so much she wanted to say but she was not sure how much was appropriate right now. She had only known him for a short time, but she was beginning to feel as if she had known him forever and as much as it amazed her, she really did feel affection for him, even after such a short time.

"I care about you, Charlie, and I want to see you better very soon. You have an inspection coming up and I hope to bribe you into another wonder ride before the weather turns."

"Well then, Ma'am, I will surely get better quickly under your care, and Shannon is always there to be at your service."

He smiled wanly at her, and went on. "But, Miss Rebecca, we have taken over your farm, you life, we have made things uncomfortable for you with your neighbors, and I have taken over your bed and used it as a sick room. If that is not imposing?"

She smoothed the blankets at his chest. "It is not, trust me when I tell you this. If it were you would most certainly find yourself in your tent on a very hard army cot." She looked out the window. It was still very early and Charlie needed to rest. "I think you need to sleep, Colonel. And I could most certainly take a catnap. Would you be terribly uncomfortable if I settled in on my side of the bed for a bit of rest?"

Charlie shifted as she lifted the tray off the edge of the bed and took his empty cup. "Of course, Miss Rebecca. It is your bed," Almost under his breathe, he added, "and I am always comfortable when you are beside me." As she settled into the bed, he reached out and took her hand in his, holding it gently.

Chapter 8

Friday November 18, 1864

Rebecca placed the washcloth on the rim of the basin. She glanced back at Charlie who was finally sleeping restfully. She had gotten very little sleep the previous night. The Colonel had been tremendously fussy, thrashing about in the bed. She had done everything she could, sitting up most of the night continuously wiping his forehead and neck with cool cloths.

She reached for her chemise, slipping into it before reaching for her dress. She had considered taking the time for a proper bath, but did not want to be away from Charlie for that long. So, she simply prepared a basin, stripped out of her clothes and had a quick washing.

As she buttoned her dress, she watched Charlie. He curled up and rolled over, reaching to her side of the bed and pulling her pillow to him. She could not help but smile, for some reason she was still trying to understand, in her heart that action made her very happy.

She finished dressing then went to his side, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. "Sleep well Charlie, we have another long day ahead of us.

--*--

She left the room, going first to the rooms that would house Dr. Walker. They were as ready as they could be, but by no means what Rebecca wished they could have been. Her home had once been so beautiful and now it had been reduced to a mere shell of its former glory.

Knowing there was nothing more she could do for the room, she closed the door then went downstairs. She was putting the kettle on to boil when there was a rapping on the back door. She opened it to find, four faces staring back at her, each of them holding two small bags. The young man spoke first.

"Mrs. Gaines?"

"Yes."

"Yes, Ma’am." He pulled his hat from his head. "I am Reg," he gestured in turn to the women he was with. "This is Sarah, Beulah and Lizbet. Colonel Redmond told us to come to you."

"Ah, yes. Come in." She allowed them in, appraising them as they stood before her. Charlie certainly knew how to pick servants. "Well, I will tell you that I am just starting to put Gaines Cove back in order and it will require very hard work to do so. You are not afraid of hard work are you?"

"No, Ma’am." Reg answered for them. "We are very grateful to you and the Colonel for the work. We promise to do right by you and the Colonel, Mrs. Gaines. "

"And the Colonel and I will do right by you." She gestured to the stairs. "You will find quarters upstairs on the third floor. Go put your things away then come back down so I can get you started. And be very quiet going up the stairs, the Colonel is under the weather and resting in bed yet this morning."

"Yes Ma’am."

--*--

Charlie slept until mid-morning, when he was awakened, not by Rebecca as he had expected, but by Jocko, who came bustling in with a pan of hot water and a razor.

"Well, Colonel C. How are we feeling this morning? Bright and chipper, I assume."

Charlie regarded his batman blearily. This degree of ‘‘chipper’ when Charlie still felt like he had a ton of wet bricks on his chest was less than wonderful. Particularly when he had been hoping to see gentle green eyes and instead was looking into brown ones that twinkled maliciously.

"We will be having company today. Colonel Polk needs his orders; Dr. Walker is arriving, and its time for you to be the Colonel again. So I thought I would come over and fix you up."

Charlie groaned. "Ok. Just be gentle. I feel like I have been dragged through hell and back."

"A nice shave and some clean clothes will fix you right up again, I promise."

Charlie lay back and closed his eyes as Jocko bustled around him, lathering his face and then methodically removing the lather and the whisper of facial hair. Years of shaving had coarsened some of those very fine facial hairs so that in reality, Charlie did have a little bit of a beard. The shaving, while originated as part of his disguise, was a real need now. The two were silent as Jocko applied the brush full of soap froth, and then began removing it and the companion stubble with the straight edged razor.

As Jocko shaved him, Charlie turned to his oldest friend for some advice. The dream of his mother the previous night had shaken him more than he was willing to admit, even to himself, and Rebecca’s gentle tending had added to his confusion.

"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."

The master of this house. Dear god, I wish I were. I wish it could be so.

"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.

He let her help him to the davenport, and lay back, exhausted as much by his own pain as by the illness. Gently, she tucked him in, and left him, lying with his eyes closed, hoping he would sleep for a bit. As the sound of the latch clicked home, the first of a long stream of silent tears ran down Charlie’s face.

--*--

An eager Polk stood at the small railroad station in Culpeper, looking north up the line for the smudge of smoke that would tell him the train was coming. He had sent one of the quartermaster sergeants looking for cured leather and another looking through the rosters for skilled cobblers or leather crafters. Now he was waiting for her.

The normally jovial, calm gentleman paced up and down the platform, hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets, tromping to and froe like an expectant father, chewing rather vigorously on the stub of his cigar. Samuelson sat quietly on one of the three benches on the platform, watching the Colonel like he was some sort of competitive sport or circus exhibition.

Finally, Samuelson could stand it no longer. Quietly, he went into the stationmaster’s office and inquired on the latest notification of progress of the supply train with the small passenger car tacked on at the end. The stationmaster’s report was terse. The train had taken on water in Warrenton and was expected in approximately 10 minutes. Samuelson thanked the man courteously and stepped back out to inform the pacing Executive Officer.

Upon hearing the news, Polk threw the stub of his cigar onto the cinders of the tracks. "Why cannot we get the damned trains to run on time? Somebody ought to be able to do something as simple as that."

He lit another stogie and went back to pacing.

Eleven and a half minutes later, the supply trained pulled into the station and moved up so that the passenger car was even with the platform. Immediately, Polk was at the door, ready to hand the lady down. Samuelson followed a step or two behind.

"Dr. Walker. I am so glad to see you. How was your trip? Not to tiring, I hope. You are looking well. Is this a new traveling suit? It becomes you, ma’am." Polk hustled about, gathering her cases and talking non-stop.

The diminutive, dark haired woman with the soft brown eyes just smiled gently, waiting for the Colonel to wind down a bit. "Good morning, Colonel. You are looking well, and the trip was uneventful. Thank you." She answered all of his questions smoothly.

Samuelson shyly smiled at Mr. Whitman as he disembarked from the train. The two men silently shook hands.

Dr. Walker turned her attention to Samuelson. "Good morning, Mr. Samuelson. I trust we have no pressing cases that demand our immediate attention."

"Well, ma’am, there is one case I wish you would examine fairly soon. A head injury, I am afraid."

"Ah, yes, those are quite touchy."

Polk broke in. "Dr. Walker, ma’am, our hostess, Mrs. Gaines has prepared a luncheon and a suite for you in her home. Would not you like to get settled before you attend to medical issues?"

"Gentlemen, my oath comes before my comfort. Let us go and see this case that has Samuelson so concerned. Then we can enjoy the social amenities."

The three men hauled various cases and trunks from the train to the waiting carriage. Tarent had managed to get a larger open carriage back in working condition in time to collect Dr. Walker and her traveling cases of primarily medical tools and drugs. Stowing them in the boot, Samuelson offered to drive back to the farm. Whitman rode beside him on the driver’s bench, while Polk joined Dr. Walker.

The trip back was quick, with Samuelson managing to avoid the worst of the rain-induced ruts in the road. Each couple spoke quietly of personal things, catching up on news of mutual acquaintances and one another’s activities. As soon as they reached the stone barn that was now the infirmary, the gracious lady transformed into the efficient physician.

"Let us take a look at your most serious cases, Mr. Samuelson."

"There is really only one urgent one, Dr. Walker. It is Major Montgomery. He was kicked in the head by a horse. We have some reflex activity, but he has been unresponsive since the accident."

Quietly, Whitman opened the black satchel he always kept handy; the one that contained her most commonly used tools. A candle, quickly lit, was placed inside a small, directional lantern with a focusing lens. This was used to both light small areas like the insides of the ears and to check the reaction of the patient’s pupils. She took her listening horn and listened to Montgomery’s heart and breathing, then took a small tool that looked like a tiny rowel spur mounted on a pen holder and ran it over his palms, the inside of his wrist and the soles of his feet.

Finally, she carefully examined his head, probing with gentle fingers all around the inflamed area. Shaking her head, she turned to Samuelson and Whitman. "Gentlemen, we will have to perform surgery –– and even then I do not know if we can save him. How long will it take for you two to set up the surgery and create as clean an area as possible?"

Samuelson spoke up. "Ma’am, I have already been working to prepare a surgical area. With Mr. Whitman’s help, we should be ready for you by mid-afternoon."

"Fine. I will meet our hostess and get a little rest; then we shall do what we can for this poor man. Oh, Whitman, do get yourself something to eat. You will need the strength."

The Colonel and the lady waited as Whitman and Samuelson unloaded all but the personal baggage from the carriage, then Polk drove Dr. Walker up to the main house.

They were met at the door by Beulah, and were immediately joined by Rebecca, who had been waiting in the front parlor. Quiet introductions and greetings were exchanged, as Rebecca explained about Colonel Redmond’s incapacity. As Beulah hustled off to get Reg to unload the personal baggage and take it to the guests’ rooms, Dr. Walker offered to check in on Charlie, both because of her capacity as a physician and as an old friend. Polk excused himself for a few moments, to send a couple of messages back to the duty officer of the day.

Quietly entering Charlie’s office cum sick room, Dr. Walker was shocked to find Charlie lying on the sofa, looking drained and exhausted. "Hello, Charlie."

She startled him. He sat up abruptly, a move that caused his touchy head to ache for a moment. "Elizabeth. I am sorry, you startled me."

She sat beside her old friend. "So tell me, Charlie. How are things going –– really? You look very tired."

"Oh, it has been a tough few days, Elizabeth. I am very glad you have come. I need your help, old friend –– in so many ways."

"Well, Montgomery seems to be the first problem. I am going to have to operate as soon as possible if we are to have any hope of saving him."

"I was afraid of that. When will you do it?"

"This afternoon, if at all possible. I do not want him to deteriorate any more than he already has. Even so, it may be too late. Head injuries are very tricky."

"Well, whatever you need, my dear lady, whatever you need."

"What about you, Charlie? Is there something bothering you other than a cold?"

"Ah, we will talk about that later, if you do not mind. Focus on Montgomery first, dear friend. But before that, I believe our hostess, Mrs. Gaines, has prepared a luncheon for you. We should not keep her waiting."

"Yes, I met her. She seems a lovely lady. It will be nice to have a southern woman to talk with again."

"I hope you two can be friends."

"Yes, well, from the looks of it, she and I have about the same approach to taking care of Colonels who will not take care of themselves. I can smell the mustard plaster, and the mint tea. My prescription for your ailments, Colonel, is that you continue to follow your hostess’ instructions."

A shadow flickered across Charlie’s face, then his usual polite mask slid into place. "Of course, Doctor. As you say. Now, shall we go into luncheon?"

Charlie rose, and offered his arm to the diminutive woman. At just barely five feet tall, Charlie towered over her, presenting a strikingly romantic picture. Both Polk and Rebecca stiffened a little as the two entered the dining room, arm in arm, laughing at some riposte that one of them had made to the other. Charlie did not notice; Elizabeth did, especially Rebecca’s response. My, my. I wonder if there is something there. Well, there is no one who more deserves loving care than our Charlie, but can this proper southern lady handle our boy?

Luncheon was a bit stilted.

After coffee, Rebecca offered to escort Dr. Walker to her room to rest, and Polk and Charlie lingered outside the front door to share a cigar, an act that turned out to be less than intelligent on Charlie’s part, as it set of a violent round of coughing that left him feeling drained. Rebecca, descending from the upper floors, heard his raucous hacking and stepped out on the portico. She shooed Polk back to his duties, then hustled Charlie back into the back parlor.

A dose of mint tea, a new mustard plaster and some very focused fussing later and Charlie, swathed in a lap rug and woolen shawl, was settled before a warm fire with pillows at his back. "You need to rest, Colonel Redmond. Would you like me to read to you?"

"You need not worry or inconvenience yourself, Miss Rebecca. I will be fine here."

"It is not an inconvenience, Colonel. I often read to myself after lunch, poetry, philosophy or from the bible. It soothes me. When my brother was alive, we would read aloud to one another, and I grew into the habit. It is one I would happily renew."

"As you wish, my dear lady. The sound of your voice alone is soothing to me. And anything that interests your agile mind will be enlightening, I am sure."

Rebecca looked at Charlie with some concern. The gentle informality of the last few days had been replaced with his most courtly manners. Perhaps the good doctor had more of a relationship with Charlie than she thought and he was distancing himself because his lover had arrived. But that did not make sense. Charlie had said that he was not involved with anyone –– he had been quite clear. Perhaps she had rebuked him. Ah, well, she knew she would never win the love of someone as generous and good as Charlie. So, these moments together were to be savored. And savor them she would.

"I have been reading some of the Apocrypha to the Holy Bible. I find there are some interesting additions to the stories we all learn in our normal religious studies. Would that interest you, sir?"

"Just continue from wherever you left off reading; I have read them and found them quite fascinating. A reminder would not be unwelcome."

"This is the additional Chapter 14 to the book of Esther, then.

"Queen Esther also, being in fear of death, resorted unto the Lord: And laid away her glorious apparel, and put on the garments of anguish and mourning: and instead of precious ointments, she covered her head with ashes and dung, and she humbled her body greatly, and all the places of her joy she filled with her torn hair. And she prayed unto the Lord God of Israel, saying, O my Lord, thou only art our King: help me, desolate woman, which have no helper but thee: For my danger is in mine hand."

Charlie listened carefully to the words. It seemed to him that Rebecca might find herself reflected in these words. The terrible losses of husband and family that this cruel war had handed her were suddenly there before him. He knew that she had first put aside her widow’s weeds when he had invited her to ride with him. He continued to listen to her reading.

"And now we have sinned before thee: therefore hast thou given us into the hands of our enemies, because we worshipped their gods: O Lord, thou art righteous. Nevertheless it satisfieth them not, that we are in bitter captivity: but they have stricken hands with their idols, that they will abolish the thing that thou with thy mouth hast ordained, and destroy thine inheritance, and stop the mouth of them that praise thee, and quench the glory of thy house, and of thine altar, and open the mouths of the heathen to set forth the praises of the idols, and to magnify a fleshly king for ever."

Dear god, what if she thinks that she is in bitter captivity with our presence. Have we abolished the order that God ordained for this country, or are we right in claiming the union to be paramount? Even so, has this been worth the prices that people like her have had to pay. I am different, I am just a soldier, doing my job –– but look what this war has done to her and others like her. I do not know. I just do not know. I wish I could take away her pain.

As Rebecca read on, her voice soft and soothing, the exhaustion of his illness and the emotional turmoil that had battered him through the night and morning caught up with him. Charlie slid into a light sleep. As his breathing changed, she quietly closed her bible and moved to his side. She straightened his shawl, covering his chest more completely, and smoothed an unruly lock of hair back from his forehead. Softly, she laid her lips on his forehead, pleased to feel that his temperature, although not yet normal, had lessened. Settling into a chair beside him, she sat and watched his sleeping face, holding his hand tenderly in her own. She roused a little as she heard Dr. Walker leaving, then returned to her vigil as the shadows of late afternoon and then evening slowly claimed the little parlor.

--*--

Dr. Walker stretched, and flexed her hands. The surgery on Montgomery had been very demanding, and had gone far longer than she expected. She had found a depressed area of skull, with small splinters surrounding the depression.

She had carefully trimmed and removed the broken section of bone, removing the little shards and then replacing the large section so that it would eventually merge back into the rest of the skull. He was fortunate; the thin membrane that protected the actual brain was unbroken. Hopefully, with the pressure from the break removed, the swelling would start to recede and he would survive. It was still too early to tell.

Richard Polk was waiting for her. As Samuelson and Whitman tended to the patient, he wrapped her in his own greatcoat and half walked, half carried her back to the main house. There, Sarah was waiting with warm soup, bread and fruit, along with a pot of strong, sweet black tea. She ate as much as she could, then Richard carried her upstairs to her room and turned her over to Lizbet for the night.

--*--

A similar repast had been carried to the back parlor. Rebecca woke Charlie, who was embarrassed by sleeping the afternoon away. She soothed his concern, reminding him that he was ill, and that the best cure for what ailed him was sleep. They shared the simple meal sitting before the fire, and spent the evening speaking of effortless things; poetry and literature they had both read and enjoyed, music they liked, and even foods they preferred. Once more, they found that they shared a great similarity in tastes and sensibilities.

Unusually, Rebecca was dreading bedtime tonight. She feared that with Dr. Walker’s presence, Charlie would choose to sleep on the davenport, rather than with her. The thought of trying to sleep without those strong arms around her was almost frightening. Finally, Charlie yawned.

"Miss Rebecca, you must be tired. Shall we retire?"

"Oh, Colonel, I am sorry. You are still ill and I have kept you up all hours. It was just that I was enjoying our conversation so."

"Well, come upstairs, Miss Rebecca. We can continue our chat for as long as I can keep my eyes open, at least." Charlie laughed softly.

"Are you sure, Colonel?"

He raised a brow. "I am very sure Miss Rebecca, unless you have reconsidered our arrangement.

"No!" She blurted out a bit faster than she intended. "Everything is fine..I..I……Well, it is not important." She stood offering him her hand. "Let us go to bed."

Saturday, November 19, 1864

Charlie woke early the next morning. His fever had abated; his head was still stuffed, but his throat no longer felt like someone had poured acid down it and his lungs had lost their wet bricks.

Time to get back to work. Just too many things needed to be done after the storm for him to lie about in bed another day.

In the dim light of dawn, he slipped from under the covers and went looking for his clothing. Jocko had brought over at least one change of clothes for him.

Rustling through the wardrobe in the corner, Charlie made just enough noise to wake Rebecca.

"Colonel Redmond, what do you think you are doing?" She threw the covers back getting out of bed quickly.

"Oh, Miss Rebecca. I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you."

"Nonsense, do not worry about that, but please answer my question."

"Well, its morning. I usually get dressed and go to work in the morning, Ma'am." Charlie was amused. She reminded him of a bantam rooster - or maybe a hen - when she was in this mood.

She took his shirt from his hand. "Get back in bed, Charlie."

"But, Rebecca, I sat up in the parlor yesterday, and took it easy. And I am feeling much better today, really I am."

"Colonel Redmond, whether you like it or not, you are still not up to snuff and I want to make sure you are better."

"I assure you, ma'am, I am feeling much better. I will be fine. And if I do feel a little less than full force, I promise you, I will sit and rest a bit." Unfortunately, his image of the hale and healthy gentleman was somewhat disrupted by an explosive sneeze, followed by another coughing fit.

"Oh yes, I can see you are the picture of health, Charlie. Now do not make me resort to violence to keep you in the house." She teased. "I do believe in your current condition I could give you what for. I may be small, but I am fierce." The scolding was softened by the smile on her face.

Charlie groped for a handkerchief and sat in the rocking chair to regain his breath. "Well, perhaps I am not yet fully recovered. But I really do feel much better. And the men really do need me."

"I am very well aware of everyone who needs you, Colonel." she brushed her fingers through his unruly hair to offer him some comfort. "I will make you a deal."

Charlie looked up into her eyes, expectantly. The feel of her fingers in his hair was very pleasant indeed. Somehow, in the past two days, a barrier had been crossed.

"If you promise to behave and stay in the house today. You may retain the office here in the house for your permanent office and hold your meetings here where the staff can tend to you properly."

"Yes, but I know you prefer the back parlor as your own personal space. Perhaps your husband had an office with a separate entrance? Or the farm manager? Here in the main house, but not in the middle of your daily life? If there was a room like that, I would like it very much."

"There is an manager’s office that has a separate entrance. You are most welcome to use it if you wish. Then we can retain the parlor for our personal use."

"I would like that very much, Miss Rebecca. And that way, the back parlor remains private. I know how much time you spend in that room, and how lovely the view is in the late afternoon as the sun is setting behind the mountains. I would not want to take that from you, dear lady."

"Then you will not. You will use the manager’s office and we will still have the parlor."

Charlie stepped closer to the woman standing before him, and caught her hand in his own. The care she had given him, the things the thought of and offered for his comfort and convenience all touched him in places no one had ever reached. "I cannot even begin to tell you how much I appreciate the care you have shown for me, and for my men. I promise you, I will do my best to make it as comfortable for you as I can."

"You have already given me more than you will ever know, Colonel Redmond." She paused for a moment then slowly stepped closer and embraced him, holding it for a long moment. "More than you will ever know." She whispered before stepping back.

Charlie's arms encircled her automatically. The feel of her arms around him, the soft silk of her hair against his cheek, the warmth of her slender body against his own was heaven. He felt like he had been given a brief taste of Eden, like she heard the words in the silence of his heart and had answered them. He wanted to cry out when she stepped away, the sense loss was so great. He tried to speak, and had to clear his throat. "Miss Rebecca." He could not express what he felt in that moment. Instead, he simply bowed over her hand, pressing it to his lips in a long, tender tribute.

The two came to a truce, and Charlie had permission from the lady of the house to hold his first staff meeting in the manager’s office. To have a place where his men could gather and stay reasonably warm was a blessing. It was amazing just how cold a large tent could get in the winter.

Together, Charlie and Rebecca went downstairs to sample Sarah’s breakfast cooking. They entered the morning room, traditionally used by the family for intimate meals like breakfast, to find Dr. Walker already there, and happily eating Sarah’s lovely, fluffy drop biscuits with butter and honey. Appropriate greetings were exchanged, while Rebecca poured cups of coffee for Charlie and herself. She then settled at the small table with the two old friends. Elizabeth watched the two with a twinkle of amusement in her eye. Clearly, these two had a connection. It remained to be seen just how intense it was and if Charlie would have the courage to act on it.

"Ah, Mrs. Gaines. I must thank you for the lovely hospitality you afford me. I cannot tell you how much more pleasant it is to have a room and a bed of my own when out in the field with the boys."

"Dr. Walker, please, call me Rebecca."

"And you must call me Elizabeth, as Charlie does."

"It is my pleasure, I assure you. I have been alone in this big old rambling place for so long that company is most welcome. I trust you slept well?"

"Most assuredly. Colonel Polk was kind enough to escort me back to the house last night when I finished surgery and I was so exhausted that I simply retired after a light supper. I know it was not the most polite action, but I was sure you would understand."

Charlie broke into their chat. "So how did the surgery go, Elizabeth?"

The physician’s face shifted into a focused look of concern. "He had a compressed skull fracture. I have cleaned the wound, relieved the pressure on the brain and removed a number of bone splinters. Now it is a matter of time. He may stay as he is until something like pneumonia takes him, or he may begin to recover. It really depends on how strong he is."

"Thank you for your efforts, ma’am. I will write his family again, providing them with at least some information as to his status and prospects. If you do not mind looking it over when I am done, I would deeply appreciate it."

"Of course, Charlie. I know how hard these things are for you, my friend." Elizabeth patted his arm gently.

A pang of jealousy shot through Rebecca as she watched the easy exchange between the two. The closeness of their friendship, shown both in the fact that they were on a first name basis and in the casual touch, burned into her. She wanted that kind of easy intimacy with the Colonel.

"So tell me, Elizabeth, how did you and Colonel Redmond meet?"

Elizabeth glanced at Charlie, a little concerned over inadvertently revealing more than perhaps the Colonel would like.

"It is all right, Elizabeth. She knows." There was a calm self-assurance in the statement that was a testament to Charlie’s faith in this woman’s discretion.

One eyebrow rose with that knowledge. What is there between these two? Charlie only came to me because of absolute necessity and then I thought I would have to drag it out of him. Yet he has only known Rebecca for a few days and yet he speaks of her knowing with so much confidence. Has our good, austere and isolated Colonel fallen?

"To be honest, we met as doctor and patient. Charlie was injured and needed help. He sought me out, hoping I would understand and keep his trust. From there, we became friends."

As the three of them sat and chatted politely over breakfast, Beulah escorted Colonel Polk into the room.

"Good morning, Miss Rebecca, Doctor Walker, Colonel." Polk’s manners were still impeccable. He stood there, fidgeting with the brim of his hat.

"Please join us, Colonel." Rebecca motioned to Beulah to get the Colonel a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Miss Rebecca." He turned to the physician. "Did you sleep well, Doctor? I was concerned about you last night. You seemed so exhausted. You know," he admonished, "if you wear yourself out, I would not –– you will not be able to help any of the men," he finished rather lamely.

"Thank you for your concern, Colonel. I truly appreciated your waiting for me last night and escorting me back to the house." She smiled very gently at the slightly flustered officer. "Your concern and care for me, Colonel, is always appreciated."

Rebecca watched these two, then glanced at Charlie. The look on his face almost made her giggle. He had leaned back in his chair and was watching the two of them like a satisfied, well fed cat. The look of benign amusement in his eyes, coupled with the small smirk that twisted his lips immediately conveyed the message. Elizabeth and Polk? Well that had possibilities. The stab of jealousy receded, and instead Rebecca thought that perhaps, just perhaps, Elizabeth would be someone she could talk with.

Elizabeth and Polk came to something of an impasse, with neither of them willing to move forward in their conversation nor willing to break their eye contact. Charlie raised an eyebrow and decided to break the tension.

"Polk, I am glad you are here. I have a couple of issues I would like to discuss with both you and Dr. Walker." The two broke their gaze and looked at Charlie inquiringly. Rebecca hid her smile behind her coffee cup.

"We have a couple of morale problems to deal with. First, Dr. Walker, I have orders to try to build bridges to the civilian community. President Lincoln is aware that this war cannot continue for too much longer. The end is inevitable." Both Polk and Elizabeth nodded their agreement, as did Rebecca. "He wants us to do whatever we can to lay a groundwork of relationship with the civilian populations that will make the reconstruction of the Union as painless as possible, given the antipathy of the situation."

"I would like to offer the people of Culpeper County access to our medical services, plus what ever else we can provide them. Can you organize such an outreach effort, Doctor?"

"Well, I can certainly organize the resources. But I have no relationship with the people here. I have not lived in the area for years, and when I did it was down in Charlottesville." She turned to Rebecca. "Perhaps, Mrs. Gaines, you could assist in this process? Surely providing medical care for your neighbors is not an issue related to which side of this conflict you support, but instead can be framed in terms of being a good neighbor."

She nodded, placing her cup on the table. "I would be delighted to help Elizabeth. There are many good people here who just need a helping hand to get back their good standing. But I must warn you. There are some very sharp beaks in Culpeper."

"Excuse me?"

The Colonel laughed. "Miss Rebecca is referring to what she like to call the biddie brigade."

The doctor and Polk, both burst out laughing. Charlie looked to Rebecca, but did not even pretend to try and hide the grin on his face.

"Oh you!" She scolded, giving him a playful slap to the hand. "The doctor will think awful things of me if you tell such stories."

"Then dear lady, do not say such things." He teased, causing further laughter from the guests.

Elizabeth glanced down to the table, noticing that Rebecca had not moved her hand from Charlie’s and that he had wrapped his fingers around hers. They do not even know they are holding hands. What they have is so natural they do not even notice. Oh Charlie, you have found yourself quite a lady here. Be strong and hang on to her.

Charlie turned to Polk. "What about ways that the men can create some relationship with the locals? Would you think they would accept help in getting their properties back in shape for the spring? Perhaps checking and fixing fencing, roofing, barns and such? I would think the men might actually enjoy doing things like this, as it is certainly better than sitting around being bored and they might find it comforting to be able to do something familiar."

"I also think it would be a good way to help erase some of the lines that have been drawn between the original troops of the 13th and the men from the 49th that we have used to build the regiment back up to full force."

"Your opinions are most welcome. Miss Rebecca, what do you think about the citizens’ willingness to accept such support?"

"As I said before," She moved her hand from Charlie’s to pour him another cup of coffee. An action that went totally unnoticed by Charlie, but most certainly did not by Polk and Walker. "There will be those who will gratefully accept the help. Then there will be others who will be obstinate and half-witted."

She continued fussing with his coffee, adding just a touch of milk then stirring it in before placing it back in front of him. It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh out loud when she watched Charlie pick up the cup without even looking at it. He just knew it would be there.

Oh dear, Charlie. You have managed to fall in love. She glanced at Rebecca, who was watching Charlie. And she adores you.

"Well, Polk. I think you have your work cut out for you in terms of building civilian relationships. On a different subject, I am concerned about some of the issues that raised themselves the other day. In particular, how common is Montgomery’s attitude among the men?"

"I have asked the company commanders to feel this issue out, but because of the sensitivity, I wanted to have the reports given verbally. I expect to have the information at today’s staff meeting."

"And the issue of the integration of the men into a solid team?"

"That is also on today’s agenda."

"Then, my friend, we need to go hear what our officers have to tell us."

"I will bring them around to your office just at one o’clock, after the noon mess, Sir."

"Oh, I am not going to be using the overseer’s cottage as an office after all. I will be using the office here in the main house. Why do not you use the overseer’s cottage as your facility, and put the quartermaster in with you. That would probably be more convenient for you, my friend."

"Well, I am not going to argue about an office with a real roof and a good clean-burning hearth. Thank you, Sir. Where shall I have the staff assemble then?"

Charlie knew that Rebecca was listening in on their conversation. He looked at her and received a smile of confirmation. "Ah, I will have Beulah show you on your way out. Oh, and have the dispatches brought to me there."

Charlie turned to Dr. Walker. "Perhaps, Elizabeth, you will join me for lunch and give me your views on the state of our infirmary and our injured?" She nodded her acknowledgment, and smiled at Rebecca. Polk was waiting at the door to escort her to the infirmary. "Until later then, my friends."

Chapter 9

Sunday, November 20, 1864

The day had been more tiring than Charlie expected. Perhaps it was his own illness, perhaps it was the dreams that had plagued his fever-ridden sleep the previous nights, perhaps it was the enormity of trying to heal the rifts between the Union and Confederacy, even on the small level of the community of Culpeper County.

He sat on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and pulled off his half boots. The coat and weskit were neatly folded on the coat rack already. He slid out of his trousers and folded them over the bar on the coat rack. Standing by the hearth, staring into the fire, wearing only his shirt and socks, he stretched, twisting back and forth trying to relieve the knots in his back and shoulders.

Rebecca came to the door, holding a bottle of liniment that Elizabeth had given her to help Charlie's cold. She paused, seeing him there, mostly undressed she nearly dropped the bottle, but managed to hold on to it. "Colonel?"

Charlie started, turning around quickly. "Oh, Miss Rebecca. I am sorry. I did not realize you were there." He flushed slightly, then realized she had seen pretty much all of his body at one time or another.

"It is all right." Rebecca swallowed hard. "Um, Doctor Walker was kind enough to give me this menthol rub for your cold. She said I should give your back a thorough rubbing with it"

Charlie flushed a darker shade of red. "Um, its not necessary. I am feeling much better. And I am sure you would rather not sleep with a bedmate that smells like a medicine ball."

She stepped into the room and closed the door. "I really think we should follow her orders if you are going to recover fully." She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.

"Um, I guess that means you need my back bare?"

"It would make the job a bit easier, yes."

Charlie looked very much like a startled deer, in the moment before it bolted. "And you would like me to be somewhere that you could get at my back?" With your hands. "With the liniment."

"Yes." She could only smile now. "Why do not you take off your shirt and lay down on the bed?"

Flushing a deeper red yet, Charlie turned away from her, facing the bed, and slowly took of her shirt. The strong shoulders, tapering down to a slim waist and trim hips emerged hesitantly. From behind, Rebecca could see the simple cotton underpants she wore - and the band around her ribs that constrained her breasts.

Rebecca took a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart. Oh, Lord. She could only stand there and find Charlie nothing but astounding. "Let me help you." She stepped forward, licking extremely dry lips before placing the bottle on the nightstand and reaching for the bindings that would free the Colonel and bring the woman completely into being.

Charlie closed his eyes. Her hands on his skin were warm and gentle. Alone, this moment was one of freedom, when the bands around his chest were freed and he could breath deeply, releasing Charlotte, if only in private. Before this woman, it was a moment of extraordinary fear and anticipation. With the transformation from Charlie to Charlotte, would she be repelled? Charlotte’s voice was loud in his head, reminding him of just what an abomination he was. You have lived as a man for so long, Charlie Redmond, you have forgotten what it is to be a woman. Except for moments like this, when you emerge from your costume and your role and face the truth of who and what you are. His breathing was shallow, and every muscle in his torso tense. It was as if she held him in her hands.

Rebecca’s hands were actually shaking. She took slow, deep breaths to control everything she was feeling as she unwrapped Charlie’s bindings. The urge to touch this beautiful creature before her was overwhelming. Once the bindings were dropped to the floor, Rebecca whispered "Lie down." She recognized the timbre in her own voice, but hoped it would escape Charlie.

Rebecca’s whisper shot fire through Charlie’s body. The combination of Rebecca’s touch and her voice were almost enough to make her lose control. She wanted to turn around, to take her in her arms, to feel her skin against hers. She lay down on the edge of the bed, face down, with her head cradled in her crossed arms. A deep breath, let out slowly, helped her to gather herself and her rampaging hormones. "Is this how you want me?"

Oh, Dear God, give me strength. She wanted to tell Charlie no and then figure out exactly how she did want her. Instead she picked up the bottle and poured a little of the oil in her hands. "That is fine." It came out almost as a squeak.

Charlie nodded. "Uh, would you mind covering my legs? Its a little chilly in here." Chilly was not how she was feeling. But maybe a little modesty would help. Maybe. Some.

"Thank you. It was a little nippy in here." Charlie buried her head deeper in her folded arms. Maybe I can slip up to Washington for a few days. Maybe that would help. If I just got some of this wanting out of my system a bit, it might be easier. Who the hell are you kidding Charlie?. The voice in her head was back, making it a bit easier to manage the feelings in her belly. She could not want you. You are no man, just the image. No woman like her could ever love an abomination like you. Why look at you - the only time you have ever been touched is from whores. She is just kind. That is all it is, just a kindness from a lady who is far too good for the likes of you.

"Tell me if I hurt you." She said before laying hands on the flesh before her. Her breathing hitched when she first touched Charlie. Despite the scars, the skin was smooth and warm and Rebecca felt a unique sensation settle deep in her belly as she began a gentle massage.

Charlie could not help it. She could not stop it. A long groan was forced from deep within her. The feel of her hands gently kneading her body, her shoulders and the heavy muscles in her back was infinitely sensual. Her breathing became deeper. Goosebumps pulled her skin tight. Her nipples hardened so that the gentle pressure of the sheet was almost painful. "You can use a little more pressure." Her voice was tight. It was all she could say right then. Anything else and she would know.

Rebecca did as Charlie asked, deepening the pressure. She licked her lips again. She desperately wanted to just lean over and place a kiss on the soft skin in front of her. "Better?"

Another groan emerged as her hands moved to loosen the tight knots in her shoulders. "Oh, yes, wonderful. You have wonderful hands. I do not think I have ever felt quite this good."

She felt as if she would faint at any moment. Another groan out of Charlie and she would be lost to her forever. "I am glad I make you feel good." She could not help it when the statement came out as nearly a low moan of her own.

The answer came without thought, straight from her heart to her lips. "You make me feel better than I ever have." Oh, God. Did I say that? Was that me? She will run, she should run. Oh, Hell.

The blonde smiled and further increased the pressure on Charlie's back. Shifting her weight so she would be more comfortable and have much better access, "Charlie, can I tell you something?" She knew this would do it. It would make or break them, but she could not stand it one moment longer.

"You know you can." Charlie was savoring every moment, every touch, every caress, committing them to her memory to be taken out, examined carefully, and cherished when she finally turned her out.

She took a deep breath, hoping that this was the right thing to do. "I think you are most undeniably the most attractive person I have ever seen."

Her words broke her haze of pleasure. She snorted. "How can you say that? I am neither man nor woman, but instead some weird half way creature." A shiver passed through her body. How could she say such a thing? Could not she see what you are? The little voice goaded her, hammered her.

"No." She stopped rubbing her back and lay down next to her, but kept rubbing small soothing circles on her back. "Look at me, Charlie."

Charlie looked into her eyes. What she saw took her breath away. She looked at her like a child, filled with pain, waiting to be hit yet again. She had stopped breathing. She could feel the goose bumps all over her skin. She could feel the muscles she had worked so hard to relax tighten into bands of steel.

"You trust me, do you not, Charlie?"

She nodded her head, her eyes locked on Rebecca’s.

"You know I would never lie to you?"

Again, she nodded, holding her breathe, waiting.

"Then you must believe me when I say this to you Charlie. I see in you the best of both. You are strong like a man, a charming gentleman and yet you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You remind me of a classical sculpture of a ancient Goddess."

Something in her words touched an empty little place within her. Her face relaxed a bit. In a very soft voice, Charlie finally found words. "Thank you, dear Rebecca. No one ever told me that I was beautiful. I was always too tall, too ungainly, too gawky. As a man, I was too whippy, too thin. It feels very strange, but very nice." The blush was back in full force.

"Anyone who has said these things to you should be ashamed. You are the most striking person I have ever seen. And since I have said this much, I feel I must continue. Is that all right?"

If anything, the blush rose higher. Charlie nodded. If she did anything else, she might try to crawl into Rebecca’s arms, and that would not do.

"I am telling you this because I want you to understand. I am a bit confused by all of this Charlie. And I am working very hard to figure it all out." She made a long languid stroke up and down her back that was sensual and meant to be. "I hope that I can find a way to express to you how much you mean to me. How much I have come to care for you. But this is new and very different to me on a variety of levels and I just ask for your patience."

With the stroke up and down her spine, Charlie froze. Her eyes closed, and her brow furrowed slightly as she concentrated on Rebecca’s words. Care for me? She cares for me? When her eyes opened again, she found herself looking into lakes of pure silver. "I am here, Rebecca. However you want me. Whatever you want from me. You have only to reach out and I will be here."

Rebecca’s hand moved from her back to her face caressing her cheek. She watched her for a long moment the leaned in and gave Charlie a very soft, chaste kiss. Right on the lips. She lingered for a brief moment, allowing the sensations to settle so she could work through them later.

Sweet Jesus. The heat roared through Charlie, ignited by that gentle touch. Every muscle in her body tightened. A light sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. Rebecca could feel the trembling in her body through the bed. If she had held that kiss for a second more, Charlie would not have been able to prevent herself from gathering Rebecca in her arms and keeping her there. She looked into Rebecca’s eyes, her soul there for her to take.

Rebecca looked carefully at her. She graced her with a shy smile. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Thank you, dear Rebecca."

Charlie cleared her throat. "Um. Rebecca? I, uh, I need to do something here or I will either embarrass myself or frighten you."

She looked at him, not understanding. "Charlie?"

"Ah, I need to get some clothes on."

"Oh yes of course, let me get you a night shirt." She rose from her spot on the bed and retrieved a freshly washed shirt for Charlie. She laid it on the bed, and then, even though she really did not want to, she turned around to give her a bit of privacy. "You would not have frightened me, Charlie."

Charlie could not stand it. She needed to feel her against her body again, if only for a moment. She stepped behind Rebecca and very gently drew her back against her chest. She slid her hands down her arms and then softly wrapped them around her waist, holding her close, burying her face in her hair, savoring the warmth and smell of her.

Rebecca’s mind flashed to the dream she had. Suddenly it was almost too clear. She laid her hand over Charlie's and leaned back . "I feel things when I am with you I have never felt before." She whispered, closing her eyes and enjoying this connection. She wished she would touch her as she had in her dream.

The feel of her body leaning against her naked chest, her shoulders brushing against her nipples was driving Charlie crazy. "If I do not let go of you, I will beg you here and now to make love with me. And I do not want that. I do not want you to decide that I am not what you want. I need you to be sure." She hoped Rebecca understood what she was trying to say.

She gasped before opening her eyes. "If you do not let go of me you will not have to beg. But I am grateful for your patience, Charlie. I want to share so much with you, but I need to work it through." Her heart was pounding so hard she felt light headed, but she did not let go of her, she would have to move first.

Slowly, gently, she ran his hands over her slender waist and up the sides of her ribs, as if she was memorizing her. She leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder where her nightdress left it bare. "Sweet lady. When you are ready." Then she stepped back, caught up the nightshirt and quickly pulled it over her head. She was breathing hard, her hands itched with the desire to hold her and there was a gaping hole in her chest that Rebecca’s slender form had filled. "When you are ready."

The two of them settled into bed, both a little shy, both a little awkward. Charlie caught Rebecca's hand and brought it to her lips. "Ready for sleep?"

She chuckled. "Not really, I am sorry. If you would like to sleep I can go downstairs for a bit."

"No, I am not exactly sleepy myself. Something about a backrub, I believe."

Rebecca blushed. "I was not trying to...well...you know." she giggled then scrubbed her face to try and rid it of the blush. "Can we talk for a bit? Or I could read."

"Stay here and talk, if you do not mind. I love learning about you, and I find you are one of the few people I am comfortable with talking about myself."

"There is so very little about me to know. I am afraid you know most of it all ready. Tell me something about yourself. Tell me why you joined the Army."

Charlie settled a pile of pillows against the headboard and relaxed, opening her arms for Rebecca to cuddle against her. "This is very nice, dear." A satisfied hum came from the small woman who was resting her head on her shoulder.

"I promised I would tell you how I got the stripes on my back."

Rebecca looked up at him, startled. She had asked for the story of how she joined the army, never guessing that there was a link.

Charlie continued in a quiet voice. It was almost a monotone, lacking emotion. Rebecca was concerned. It was as if Charlie went away, and left only this voice, recounting whatever it was that Charlie was remembering.

"I was born in Charleston, South Carolina in 1829. My father, Mark Russell Redmond, was a merchant who provided all manner of goods and equipment for the merchant fleets that sailed in and out of Charleston. He was a big man, a black Scot, with a stern visage and a tight fist for money. My mother, Emelia Huger DuBosque, was from one of the French Huguenot families, small, delicate, with laughing blue eyes and coal black hair. They were quite a striking pair, I am told. I do not remember my mother well, as I was only four when she died of yellow fever. Mostly I only remember little snippets, like fragments of dreams. I missed her terribly for many years."

Charlie stopped for a moment, the memory of the dream he had of his mother still very fresh in his mind. He realized that the lovely woman cuddled in his arms was the first woman other than his mother who had ever just held him because she wanted to. He tightened his grip on Rebecca slightly, wondering at the feel of it.

"After my mother died, my father became very engrossed in his work. He became more and more distant, and more and more harsh. As I grew, it became obvious that, while I had my mother’s coloring, I had his build. At 15, I was tall, gangly, awkward, and everything that the image of a Charleston lady was not. I think he had hoped I would grow into the image of my mother. All I know is that everything I did disappointed him. It was a very lonely childhood."

Charlie paused there. When he resumed, his voice was even more distant and controlled.

"I can still remember the day like it happened yesterday, the weather, the words, the sounds and smells. It was cold and overcast. It was raining, a needle fine drizzle that seemed to cut right through your skin. I had just returned from taking Papa his luncheon at the mercantile. I settled in front of the big fire in the winter kitchen to dry out my wet hair and dress. Mamie, our cook, had given me a cup of warm soup to help take the chill off."

"As I was drying out, Joshua, the errand boy for our mantilla maker, Madame Préévost, brought in my new Sunday bonnet. I remember thinking "I don’t know why I bother; father always says I look like a boy in girls clothing." But back then, I kept trying to be the daughter my father wanted."

"I remember looking closely at Joshua as he set the hat box down in front of me. He was barefoot and coatless, soaked and shivering from the cold. Mamie brought him a cup of hot soup and a towel, scolding him for dripping all over her nice, clean floor."

"It was pretty funny watching Joshua try to towel off and drink the soup at the same time. The soup won; he drained the cup quickly while barely managing to get some of the bigger drips with the towel."

"I opened the hatbox and just looked at the bonnet. It was lovely, but I remember thinking then that a pretty hat was not sufficient to make me a lovely lady like my father wanted. I was still tall, gawky, bony and too much of a tomboy."

"I remember thinking that Joshua looked like he was not getting enough to eat. He was thin, too thin even for a boy of his age. I wondered if Madame Préévost was having problems. The last bout of yellow fever had severely restricted Charleston’s social activities that year and I suspected her business had been hurt badly. I thought the cold snap would help, as yellow fever is a warm weather disease. Perhaps the winter season would be good for her. But right then, I suspected that her servants were going on short rations."

"I asked Mamie if we had any butt ends of bacon, fatback or shanks or a hambone we could give Joshua as recompense for his errand. She agreed with me; he looked like he was not getting enough to eat. But she warned me that if I took anything out of the meat locker, there would be hell to pay for it with my father. I did it anyway, and promised her that I would be responsible for it."

"We gave the poor boy another cup of soup and sent him on his way with a small package of fatback and the butt end of a ham. It was so sad to see how tightly he clutched that package of scraps to his chest, as if it were a treasure to be carefully guarded."

"I walked upstairs with my new bonnet, and as I did, I remember hearing a loud commotion out on the street. I looked out of the hall window and saw Father there, holding Joshua by the scruff of the neck. There was a lot of yelling going on. I rushed out the front door, hoping to somehow ease the situation. Unfortunately, my father was in full righteous rage. He called Joshua a thieving nigger, a sneak and a variety of other choice epithets."

Charlie paused for a moment. The next part of this story was one of the most painful times in her life. Rebecca was mesmerized. Charlie so rarely opened up like this. She knew instinctively that any story that she recounted with this much detail was intensely important. All she could do was hold Charlie’s hand tenderly, to give support and encouragement. She did not dare say anything for fear that she would disrupt this healthy outpouring of long concealed pain.

Charlie took a deep breath and continued. "I intervened. I told my father that Joshua was not a thief. His response was not what I expected. He said, "if he is not a thief, then someone is. I gave no permission for meat to be taken from my home."

Charlie’s voice became oddly determined. "You know, I could have lied that day, I could have let Joshua take my father’s wrath. But I chose to be truthful. I paid for that truth dearly."

"I told my father that I had taken the meat and given it to Joshua in return for him bringing me the hat. My father’s response shocked me to my core. I expected him to be annoyed, let Joshua go and give me a lecture about being too generous with the family’s resources. Instead, he told me "Then you are a thief. For whether it be you or this little wretch, someone is going to pay for this."

"I could not believe it. The man standing in front of me was not my father. This man, with his face all red, the veins in his neck bulging and the eyes of a rabid dog, was not the calm, stern father I knew. I was terrified, and rightfully so. My father literally tossed Joshua into the gutter, where he grabbed the package of meat and skittered away through the crowd. Papa stalked to the front door where I was standing, took my arm and threw me into the hall, slamming the door behind him."

"He asked if I took his ham. I said yes."

"He asked if I had permission. I said no."

"He asked me if I understood that taking something without permission was theft. I said yes and asked what I could do to make amends."

Charlie was almost rigid. Rebecca was trying not to cry from the pain that was radiating off her body at these harsh memories.

"He said, "You, daughter, will pay the price that any thief would pay. You will be out in the courtyard in half an hour." I had never heard him sound so cold, so angry or so distant."

"Punishments in the courtyard were major events. Every member of the household, down to the lowest slave in the stables, was required to attend. I thought he would do what he usually did, shame me in public for being such a failure and disappointment as a daughter. I was wrong."

"Thirty minutes later, to the minute, I was standing in the courtyard. He kept me waiting there, in the icy rain, for what felt like another ten or fifteen minutes. By the time he came out wearing his oilcloth slicker, I was soaked. I looked into his eyes, hoping to find some bit of fatherly tolerance there. Instead, I saw eyes as cold and gray as the cobblestones under our feet."

"Then it got worse. He commanded me to strip off my shirtwaist. I was horrified. He wanted me to stand before these people in nothing but my chemise and my skirt. I did as he commanded, for I knew that whatever my punishment was to be, it would be worse if I continued to disobey him. Then he drew his hands from behind his back and I saw the whip."

Rebecca cringed. Charlie was very still beneath her, but she could feel her heart pounding. Rebecca took Charlie’s hand, which she had been holding and stroking, and held it to her own heart, trying to give her friend some small amount of comfort.

"He announced my crime, naming me a petty thief. Then he ordered the head stableman to tie my hands to a tall post in the courtyard that was usually used to tie horses, and doubled as a whipping post when necessary.

"After the first blow from the blacksnake whip, all I can remember is burning, searing pain and overwhelming shame. My father was beating me like a recalcitrant slave in front of the entire household. I have no idea how many times he struck me. I wrapped my hands around the ring on the post and hung on. I refused to crumble, to beg or to fall. After it was over, all I can remember is Mamie tending to me."

"I honestly do not know if the whipping or the medicine in the welts afterward hurt worse. I do know that sometime during the course of Mamie cleaning the welts and cuts on my back, I passed out. Even with the immediate treatment, several of the cuts became infected. I was feverish for several days, drifting in and out of awareness. Eventually, I rejoined the world, my back a mass of scabs. The first thing I remember asking for after some water was if my father had been to see to me. He had not. Evidently, tending to a thief was more repugnant to him that tending to his daughter.

"That was what made me leave. To him, I was never the child he wanted, could never be the daughter he expected me to be, and after the whipping, I was obviously no better than a petty thief. I waited until my back healed, then I cut my hair, got a couple of suits of boys clothing and jumped ship for Philadelphia, working as a mess lad. My choices were limited; I had few skills. I could be the world’s ugliest prostitute or I could pass as a man and go in the army. With the troubles in Mexico brewing, the army seemed the better choice."

"In January of 1846, President Polk declared war on Mexico. By the end of the month, I had enlisted in the Army in Philadelphia. After some basic training, I was on my way west, to join the ranks of cannon fodder. After that, I got lucky."

Charlie lay there, still and quiet. But Rebecca could hear his heart pounding. The pain that had driven her to become Charlie instead of Charlotte, the agony of betrayal by her own father, and the unending feeling of inadequacy were written on Charlie’s face and, Rebecca realized, on her beloved’s soul. She did not know where to begin to heal such a deep wound of the soul, or if she had the means to do so, but in that quiet moment, she swore in her heart to try.

--*--

Wednesday, November 23, 1864

Charlie looked between the two women, who were laughing and obviously enjoying each other’s company very much. This morning, the good Colonel felt very out of place at the breakfast table and, being a career soldier, he knew when a tactical retreat was in order. He took the last drink of his coffee and placed his napkin on the table.

"Well, ladies if you will excuse me I have a meeting to get ready for." He stood, waiting to be excused.

Rebecca nodded with a smile and Elizabeth merely grinned. She found this whole thing extremely amusing. She could see she had her work cut out for her here and it was more than just taking care of the sick and wounded.

Once Charlie was gone, Elizabeth could not resist any longer, especially after watching Rebecca watch Charlie walk out of the room. The doctor could not help but chuckle. Rebecca looked at her quizzically.

"Oh, Charlie - he is such a gentleman. And he has absolutely no inkling of the impact he has on others."

"You are very right, Doctor. I can never seem to get him to accept credit for his good deeds and kind heart."

"My dear, I suspect he may be allowing you to see more than most. He is without doubt the most private person I have ever met."

"Not that you can blame him. He has to be very careful. If someone were out to hurt him that is all it would take."

"That is certainly true. I must confess, Charlie confuses even me at times, and I think I know more about people like him than most."

"Like him?" Rebecca hoped the good doctor would enlighten her. Maybe it would help clear up some of her own confusion to understand Charlie a bit better.

"You must know that there are all kinds of people in the world, Rebecca. Most follow the traditional path of man and woman. Others prefer the company of their own gender, and still others seem to have been born into the wrong bodies, and have the characteristics of one of the opposite gender. This has been true throughout all history, though not often spoken of."

"And how would you think of Charlie? I mean is not a matter of circumstance that has made Charlie what he is? Could not he, well, change? I mean if he were to leave the Army and start over again. Please help me to understand. There are so many things……" She dropped her eyes, sighing deeply and staring into her coffee cup.

"So many things? Perhaps, Rebecca, it would be easier if you just asked me. I think we both care very much for Charlie and he has so few people he can call friend."

Carefully she raised her eyes and looked at the doctor. She could see concern and new friendship looking back at her. "I think I care for Charlie very much." She said quietly.

"And the way you care for him confuses you?" Elizabeth's concern was obvious in the tone of her voice and the open honesty of her face.

"Yes, very much. I look at him and I see everything I need and want, yet I know I should not feel that way."

"When you look at Charlie, who do you see, Rebecca? Do you see the Colonel, the gentleman, or the woman underneath the image? It makes a huge difference, you know. And it probably makes a huge difference in why you think you should not feel the way you do."

"That is just it. I see both. One moment he is the gallant and charming Colonel and the very next minute he is very much a woman. I am so frustrated because I am simply attracted to him, and all of that does not matter to me, but yet there is a voice that keeps telling me that what might be, could never be."

Elizabeth looked at her new friend for a long moment. She felt sure that even if Charlie had not been forced to assume the identity of a man to survive, he still would have sought the love of a woman to complete him. She also suspected that, for Charlie, the years of hiding his real identity, coupled with whatever circumstances had driven him to totally destroy his identity as a woman, had left him believing he would have to be alone for the rest of his life. Rebecca's concerns would only feed Charlie's insecurity.

"Dear lady, I personally do not believe that caring for someone is ever wrong. But I also know that society does not agree with my point of view. You will have to make that decision for yourself, if you have any desire to keep Charlie in your life."

Rebecca laughed at the situation. "Doctor, I believe the community would be far more scandalized if I took a Yankee officer as a lov……uh……well……" She cleared her throat. "I do want Charlie in my life. I mean I understand it has only been a short time, but God help me there is just something about him that is undeniable. Elizabeth, do you believe in love at first sight?"

Elizabeth broke into outright gales of laughter at Rebecca's first sentence. "My dear lady, you are sleeping with the man. The whole camp knows that the Colonel sleeps at the main house, not in his tent. And they all assume that you two are lovers. It was one of the first things I heard about you. I thought it was a case of Charlie doing one of the silly things he does occasionally to try and bolster his masculine image." She looked at the now blushing Rebecca. "There is more here than just Charlie's image, is not there? And I assume that the rumors are not true - but some part of you wishes they were?"

"The rumors are not true. We do sleep together but it is very platonic, I assure you." Rebecca’s brows came together in contemplation. "Unless you consider the fact that I wake up in his arms every morning less than platonic. And I must admit I am having very unusual feelings and dreams since meeting Charlie."

Elizabeth sighed deeply and walked to the window, looking out over the gentle, rolling land. What she saw was not the beautiful land, but the memory of Charlie's face, torn with pain and emptiness on the one occasion when they had talked of relationships and the future - the time after the war. She had seen the look in Charlie's eyes as he looked at this young woman. The amount of pain that her friend might have to face was terrifying. She drew another deep breath. "Rebecca, Charlie is the most honorable person I have ever known. But he was hurt very badly a long time ago and I suspect has never healed from that hurt. Our mutual friend believes that he is fated to be alone in the world. I have never known anyone who more deserved to be loved and was more capable of giving love, but I fear for him. To be honest, I fear for him because of you."

"Me? I would never hurt Charlie." Rebecca felt tears well in her eyes and her heart at the mere thought. "I would never hurt him. I promise you, Elizabeth."

"Rebecca, if you offer your love to Charlie and then find that the opinions of society are more than you can handle, you will hurt him very badly indeed. I am just asking you to be very sure before you do anything. I think Charlie would prefer the company of women no matter what happened in his life. But the circumstances that forced him to give up his true identity have made that even harder for him. Please be gentle with him."

Rebecca nodded her understanding. "I know that. That is why I am so confused. I know I should care what other people think, but when it comes to Charlie, I just cannot. I do not care that his men think we are lovers and I do not care that the entire community of Culpeper is sure that the Colonel and I are carrying on an illicit affair. I enjoy his company and I simple drown in those eyes every time he looks at me. I have never felt anything like this before in my life."

"Rebecca, are you sure you are not just responding to having the company of someone who is charming and attentive and who has eased your loneliness after your husband's death?"

" I know my feeling for Charlie are real; born from caring for him. Does it matter why they have manifested themselves?"

"It may. Many times, I have seen people who have been beaten down by the effects of war and need to affirm the reality of life through passion. If that is the case, then you may find your feelings for Charlie will fade as life returns to something more normal."

"I do not believe that will be the case." She bit her bottom lips, fighting tears. "I love Charlie. I want to be with him. I want him with me."

Elizabeth wrapped her arm around the woman's shoulder. "Rebecca, why are you crying?"

"I am just so confused. I know I love Charlie. I think he cares for me. Why must this be so hard?"

"Sometimes loving someone is very hard, my dear. But loving oneself is often even harder. For both of your sakes, I am asking you to really look. Are you falling in love with Charlie or with the idea of Charlie?

The look she gave Elizabeth was truly confused. She shook her head hoping that would help, but it did not. "I do not understand. What?"

Elizabeth thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to express a rather complicated set of thoughts. She sighed, and then started in on explaining her concerns. "You were married to a gentleman, with position and rank in the society here. The war took that away. It took away your family and it basically took away your home. You have been surviving here, alone for how long?"

"I was married, but he was no gentleman. And my life, such as it was, was over long before the war. Yes, I have been alone a long time, and I am tired of being alone, but I want to share my life with Charlie."

"I hate to ask you this, but what do you really know about Charlie that makes you so sure you want to be with him? Is it possible that it is because he is charming, gentle, courtly - in fact all the things that are written about in the romance novels. In other words, the image of Charlie, that you know he has carefully created, is what attracts you."

Rebecca began to feel utterly defeated. "Perhaps." She said softly. "I could never win Charlie. He needs someone who..." She smiled her bravest smile. "But I will remain his friend and I will continue to see to his comforts as long as he is here."

Elizabeth felt the defeat in the slender shoulders under her arm. "My dear lady, I have not said a word about how Charlie may or may not feel. I am asking about how you feel. I assure you, you are exactly the kind of woman that Charlie finds compellingly attractive." What is going on here? She asked the woman about the genuineness of her feelings for her dear friend Charlie and all of a sudden, she turned into one of the most sadly defeated souls Elizabeth had ever seen.

"Elizabeth, you ask valid questions I can not answer. I love Charlie, why I am not sure but I do. I was a miserable failure as a wife and I am only deluding myself to think I could..." Rebecca wanted to escape and just go have a good cry. She slowly pulled away from the woman. "I promise you. I would never do anything to hurt Charlie."

"Rebecca." Elizabeth's voice was gentle, but commanding. "I do not know what was done to you to make you believe that you were a failure as a wife, but I do see how you care for Charlie - and for all of us here - during very difficult times. I also see his face when he looks at you; when you are in the room; even when someone mentions your name."

"Yes, but maybe it is loneliness, too. He tells me he has been alone for a long time, that he has no one. I am sure after the war, he will find someone..." Rebecca's heart nearly stopped beating at the thought of Charlie not being with her. But she knew Elizabeth was right and she knew that her own failure would only come back to haunt her. Charlie would need a strong woman with a very special outlook to have anything even close to the life he deserved.

"Rebecca, dear lady. I do not think you are a failure, either as a lady or as a wife. You treat Charlie very well indeed. And I am very sure that if he won your heart, you would be a perfect partner for him. I have to confess, I was much more concerned with you finding the, umm, novelty of who Charlie really is to be just that. A novelty. And that the attraction you feel for my friend might pale when the fact of never being able to have children, to have a family of your own became real for you. If your love for him were to fade, I think it would hurt you both very much. I look at him when he thinks no one sees him. I see his face when he looks at you. If you find yourself to be truly in love with Charlie - with the woman as well as the man - I think that you will make him a very happy person."

Elizabeth moved forward and hugged Rebecca again. "My dear, that is as much as anyone can ever ask for. To love and to be allowed to love for who you are, not who you appear to be. Charlie is, without question, the most honorable person I have ever known. He is a gentle and attentive friend, and when you are ready, I think he will be a spectacular lover and husband. I think this is much more a question of whether he can accept your love as being genuine and lasting than it is one of your fear of being inadequate."

"I would do everything in my power to prove that to him, everyday. I do not want you to worry for your friend, although I know you do. Charlie's love is the greatest thing I could have in my life. If given the opportunity I believe we could make a wonderful life for ourselves. But I want Charlie to be with me because he loves me. I could not stand being with another who did not love me."

"I see the love he bears you, dear lady. Longing is painted on his face and burns in his eyes when he looks at you. I suspect he is very afraid of not being enough for you; afraid that you will find a real man who fills your needs more than he can."

"I want no other." She admitted softly. "Charlie makes me feel like no other could. I know the differences between what I have felt before and what I feel now, I am sure I could never feel that way about a 'real' man. Part of my love for Charlie is, that being a woman, she has tenderness and understanding that no man could ever have."

"Then keep exploring how you feel. Go slowly. Be sure. There is nothing about Charlie that is abnormal, just unusual. And very lonely. I thank you for your trust in me, it means a great deal to me, both because I felt an instant affinity for you, my dear, and because I care deeply for Charlie."

"I know." She smiled, slightly embarrassed. "I will admit when I saw you and Charlie together for the first time I felt a great deal of jealousy. May I ask you a personal question, Doctor?"

"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.

CHAPTER 10

Wednesday, November 23, 1864

Charlie 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."

--*--

Rebecca 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.

--*--

Charlie 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."

Charlie stepped over to look into Montgomery’s face. His head was swathed in white bandages, his features at rest. This man could not be more than twenty-four or twenty-five, yet he had seen so much death and destruction that it had overwhelmed the lad with hatred. The cost of war was a man’s soul. Charlie shook his head.

"Come, Elizabeth, let us look in on the other men."

--*--

She paused just outside the door gathering herself for a fight. Opening the doors, she stepped inside and closed them behind her. "Good afternoon, ladies. Welcome to my home." She looked at each woman in turn. Mrs. Cooper gave her a polite smile. Mrs. Williams once again appeared as if she had something unpleasant under her nose. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the next two ladies, Miss Katherine Reynolds and Miss Mary Simms. Both of them young and single, she knew why they had come and she did not like it one damn bit.

"Rebecca, we came to make sure you were indeed all right." Mrs. Cooper offered.

"But we can see that you are living well." Mrs. Williams all but sneered. "Your home is being refurbished and you have a house full of new servants……."

Rebecca raised her hand, interrupting her. "Colonel Redmond has his men helping with needed repairs to my home and I would hardly call a staff of four a houseful. Besides they are here for the Colonel’s comfort more than mine."

"Where is the Colonel?" Mary asked with a gleam in her eye.

"Charlie," Rebecca let all of her jealousy and possessiveness tumble out in just his name, "is out with his troops tending to his camp."

"Mrs. Williams was sure we would find him sitting before the fire sipping brandy and smoking a cigar," Katherine giggled.

Rebecca looked directly at Mrs. Williams, "Had you come a little after supper you may very well have. The Colonel does enjoy a cigar and he has impeccable taste in brandy."

"Rebecca, have you lost your senses? You act as if you have feelings for this man," Mrs. Williams countered.

"Do I?"

"You do. It is shameful."

"No it is not. But do you know what is? You, Mrs. Williams, your self-righteous condemnation of something you know nothing about. What gives you the right to come to my home and ––"

"Rebecca," Mrs. Cooper broke in and stopped the young woman’s tirade. "We are only concerned for your safety."

"You may very well be, Grace, and I appreciate that, but others are not so kind." She looked at each woman. "Colonel Redmond is a gentleman and he has graciously offered to help the community of Culpeper as much as possible. His chief physician, Doctor Walker, has offered to give of her services to our community."

--*--

Reg had come running hell bent for Charlie as soon as Beulah had told him of the unexpected "guests." He found Charlie and Elizabeth visiting with the men in the infirmary, Elizabeth to assess their condition and Charlie to bolster their morale. A quick word with Reg and Charlie knew that Rebecca was in trouble.

"Excuse me, Dr. Walker, may I have a private word with you?"

The two hurried to the end of the makeshift ward, "What is it, Charlie?"

"It seems that the local morals committee is paying us a visit. Can you join me to help give them a new perspective?"

"I will be there as quickly as I can. You go ahead."

--*--

Charlie hurried back to the house. Slipping up the back stairs, he stopped to pull on his day dress uniform, sword, sash and all. His "Daniel" costume, ready to enter the lions’ den. Slipping back downstairs, he circled around and entered by the front door. Hearing the murmurs, punctuated by Rebecca's voice raise in the deceptively low tones he knew as her version of anger, he straightened his tunic and entered the room.

Rebecca was ready to blow. She wondered briefly if Charlie’s men could put a new roof on the entire house. She was about to go off like a keg of gunpowder when Charlie entered the room

"Excuse me, Miss Rebecca. I did not mean to interrupt your tea, but I have a request from Dr. Walker." Charlie's Charleston accent was back with a vengeance.

"Charlie," she got up immediately nearly running to him. She took a deep breath and just let it happen. She put her arms around his neck and gave him quite the complete welcome home.

For a moment, Charlie was stunned. As she settled back into the arms that had risen to automatically embrace her, she looked up into his eyes. Charlie blinked at her like an owl, suddenly blinded by a bright light. A slow smile then played over his features. "Bonjour ma Chèère, çça va bien?"

"I have been better, Daniel," She whispered in his year. "I am very glad you are home." She pulled back just a bit without letting go of Charlie’s neck. "Come, my dear Colonel Redmond, let me introduce you."

Charlie let her slide down in his arms, until he could take her arm in a more traditional hold and allowed her to introduce him to the ladies in the room.

"Ladies, may I present Colonel Charles Redmond, originally of Charleston, South Carolina? Colonel, I am sure you remember Mrs. Cooper. This is Mrs. Williams, Reverend Williams’ wife. And Miss Reynolds and Miss Simms."

He first addressed Mrs. Cooper, bowing over her hand and lightly brushing her knuckles with his lips. "I am charmed to see you again, Madame. You husband has been quite professional in his dealings with us, and I appreciate it. I also know you and your husband have been good friends to Mrs. Gaines, and I am deeply grateful for that."

He turned to Mrs. Williams and similarly bowed over her hand, murmuring "Enchantéé, Madame. I look forward to seeing you at church when my health and the demands of my position permit"

Finally, he turned to Miss Reynolds and Miss Simms, summing them up as young women on the hunt and dismissing them immediately. He bowed to both of them, "Ladies, the honor is mine." Through all of this, the southern accent, spiced with the bits of French that were part of his heritage, was blatant. He stepped back to stand beside Rebecca.

"Your health? Are you ill Colonel?" Mrs. Williams inquired causing Grace to snort her amusement.

"Madame, I was stricken with a touch of pleurisy after that terrible storm last week. Fortunately, Miss Rebecca and Dr. Walker provided sound medical care and I am recovering."

All eyes returned to Rebecca who led Charlie to the love seat so they were sitting side beside. "He is a very grouchy patient, too. It was all I could do to keep him in bed."

Charlie smiled gently at Rebecca, "Ah, chere Madame, for you I would do many things, even to letting you tend me when I was ill. I am very grateful, I do assure you." Turning to the other ladies in the room, he continued, "You know, Miss Rebecca has joined with Dr. Walker to try and plan ways to make good medical care available to the whole community. I would appreciate it, ladies, if given your standing in the community, you would let folks know that we will be available to provide such support when needed? Oh, and I am hoping you will be able to meet Dr. Walker before you depart today."

"Colonel, are you suggesting that good southern people take help from Yankee rabble? That we should allow such a thing would be a disgrace. Maybe Rebecca Gaines does not mind sharing her home, and obviously her bed, with you, but I have no desire to take anything from you." The minister’s wife was nearly out of her chair by the time she was done.

"Margaret!" Mrs. Cooper looked to Charlie and Rebecca with pleading eyes.

Charlie's voice, low and quiet but powerfully commanding broke through the woman's tirade. "Madame, you will not besmirch Miss Rebecca's name in her own home. Yes, I am staying here. But I have not taken advantage of her and I will not. I will court her and woo her and if I am fortunate, I may win her. And I assure you, as an officer and a gentleman, I will always treat her with honor and respect. I am just as much a southerner as you. I was born in Charleston and, as you can hear, retain both the speech and the manners of my native state. Our physician, Dr. Walker, grew up in Charlottesville, not forty miles south of where we stand right now. Neither of us are Yankees. We are people who believe in the sanctity of the Union - a political difference."

Rebecca gripped Charlie’s arm to try and calm him. She could actually see the veins in his throat and temples beginning to stand out, and as he was just beginning to fell better. She did not wish him upset.

Charlie took another step forward, to stand directly in front of the sputtering, bigoted woman. "I find your attitude surprising in one who claims to be a good Christian woman. For does it not say in Ecclesiastes, "The words of wise men are heard in silence more than the cry of him that ruleth among fools. Wisdom is better than weapons of war: but one sinner destroyeth much good." It seems to me, Madame, that you have failed to learn the lesson of the Good Samaritan."

"That may be, Colonel, but you chose to stay with the Yankee army when the Union split, so you are no less than a traitor to your own people. And as for Rebecca Gaines, she has made her own bed, she must lie in it."

"Madame, each of us had our choices. General Lee was offered the position of commander of the Army of the Potomac. He chose to serve with Virginia. Did you know that he freed all of his slaves before he committed to the Confederacy? Each of us who served as career officers faced that decision. Each of us had to decide for ourselves, which was more important, our individual states, or the union of those states. I chose the union. My mentor chose the state. It was the most difficult decision of my life. I am no more a traitor than General Lee. I am simply a man who chose differently."

"Colonel," Mrs. Cooper stepped forward. "I must apologize. Not everyone shares the same belief and I believe in my heart that the help that you and Rebecca are offering will be gratefully accepted."

"I am most appreciative, Mrs. Cooper. Please convey my honest commitment to maintain as cooperative and constructive relationship as possible. I have issued orders that any man of mine who harasses, or in any way importunes the people of Culpeper will be severely punished. I have also ordered that any request for assistance, whether it be medical or other assistance, be met immediately. We are here for the winter, and I believe we should live as neighbors, in good will and understanding. The prodigal son was welcomed with open arms and feasting. We can do no less, Madam.

"I will, Colonel Redmond, thank you. Now I do believe that we have taken enough of your time. Please, when you have time, bring Dr. Walker by my husband’s shop. I most certainly look forward to meeting her." She turned to her companions. "Ladies, I believe it is time we leave Mrs. Gaines and the Colonel to their evening."

Rebecca patted Charlie's back and escorted them out. She returned a short time later closing the doors. "Well, that went well."

"That went well? The wife of the local minister essentially called you a whore, and you say that went well?"

She laughed as she crossed the room and settled on the couch. "Charlie, it is not like I did not set them up for it."

"Ah, yes. Would you care to tell me what that was about?"

She motioned him to the couch. "Come sit with me. We need to talk."

"Yes. Indeed we do. I do not think I have walked into a situation like that in my whole life. I cannot stand anyone saying things like that about you."

"Firstly, my dear sir, I could care less what they say about me. Dr. Walker was very good at making me realize that. Secondly, while I will admit I kissed you, partly, just to annoy that old bat, the main reason I kissed you is that I wanted to. I have wanted to for days."

"You have kissed me before, dear lady. I admit, today's kiss was certainly more... stirring. You can certainly do it again, but I would prefer it if you did it to please yourself or to please me, not to offend the biddies." Charlie softened this rather stern request with a rather shy smile.

"Fine." She leaned over, taking his face in her hand and kissed him. Kissed him for her pleasure and his. She was gentle but leaving no doubt in his mind she would go wherever he wished to lead them.

Charlie pulled her into his arms, his emotions running high, torn between overwhelming tenderness and a rush of passion and desire that left him shaking. He held her close and cradled her head in his hand, slowly lowering his head to return her kiss with one of his own. Just as his lips brushed hers, the door banged open and Elizabeth stalked in, fuming.

"Drat that bigoted, high and mighty, self-righteous woman." Obviously, Dr. Walker and Mrs. Williams had met. Elizabeth then registered what she had walked in on. "Oh…… OH! Uh. Excuse me. I am sorry. I did not mean to interrupt, but Charlie asked..." Elizabeth tried to back out of the door.

Rebecca smiled, pulling away from Charlie, but patting his leg to reassure him. "It is all right Elizabeth. Come in."

"So, I take it that the lovely Mrs. Williams came out to check on you, and brought a little Charlie-bait with her. How bad were you?"

We were good. Mostly." She chuckled.

"Mostly? Charlie - was she good?" Charlie shook his head and grinned.

Elizabeth looked at both of them. They both looked rather sheepish right then.

"Oh, Charlie was very good." She raised her brows, patting his leg again.

"True. I was very good. I did not pass out from surprise."

"I am afraid I was a little naughty," Rebecca admitted.

"I am afraid, my dear Rebecca, that you convinced Mrs. Williams that you and I are conducting our own version of the Hell Fire Club's rituals."

She sighed, slipping her hand into his. "If I am going to burn in hell, Charlie, I will not mind it if I am with you."

Elizabeth looked at both of them sternly. "Well, my dear friends, if the two of you burn in hell, I suspect it will be for malicious taunting of unsuspecting bigots. Keep it up and you may give the poor woman apoplexy. I really did not like her color at all."

Both Charlie and Rebecca burst out laughing. They needed that after the visit.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to get cleaned up and get a little rest before dinner."

They watched their friend leave then Rebecca turned to Charlie, "Now, where were we?"

He smiled gently and drew her back into his arms, "I believe, Mrs. Gaines, I was about to do something I have wanted to do for a long time." Slowly, gently, tenderly, passionately and possessively, Charlie kissed her, putting into his touch all the wanting and yearning he had in his soul.

Rebecca responded to Charlie’s gentle touch and his slow demonstration of affection. She had never been kissed this way before in her life and she could not help it when the moan escaped her lips while Charlie continued to kiss her. Her entire body tingled, alive with a feeling she had never felt before. It was as if Charlie was touching her very soul with his kindness and tenderness.

Her eyes remained closed when Charlie’s lips left hers and she immediately felt the loss. She was grounded to the here and now by the gentle hold Charlie had on her face, with it gingerly cupped between his hands. Slowly her eyes opened and she looked at his smiling face. At this very moment, Rebecca Gaines lost her heart completely.

Without a word, Charlie leaned back against the couch and pulled Rebecca into his arms, holding her there close to his thundering heart. A place that Rebecca was more than willing to be.

--*--

Polk looked around the dinner table; all three of his companions were strangely quiet, but all smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He watched with fascination; Miss Rebecca would look to the Colonel then lower her eyes like a schoolgirl with her first crush. The Colonel, on the other hand, kept his eyes mostly locked on his plate while trying to hide the smile on his face. Polk looked to Elizabeth who had a thoughtful look on her face.

"Did I miss an amusing story?" He asked, sipping from a glass of wine.

"No, Polk. I assure you there is nothing funny going on." Charlie gave is second in command a glance.

"Then why are you all smiling?"

"We are not." Elizabeth offered him a gentle smile.

"Absolutely not." Rebecca said, hiding her own smile behind her dinner napkin.

"Uh-huh." Polk replied skeptically, once again looking at each of his companions in turn.

"Richard," Charlie spoke up before further prodding could embarrass any of them. "Why do not we step out on the porch and have a cigar?"

Rebecca laid her hand on Charlie’s arm. "Colonel, please, go to the parlor and have your cigar. It is very chilly out tonight. I will prepare a digestive that we might all enjoy if you and Colonel Polk would be so good as to start a fire."

Charlie rose from the table. "Our pleasure. Come along, Polk."

Rebecca waited until they were gone from the room before turning to Elizabeth. "I am in love."

Elizabeth smiled. "You are sure?"

"Absolutely. Oh, Elizabeth, when Charlie kissed me today……" She stopped and just shook her head, her smile bright. "I had no idea that affection could be like that." She leaned forward as if to tell a deep secret. "So tender. So passionate. I felt wanted and needed and very loved."

"I am happy for you, Rebecca. I truly am. Just remember our dear Charlie is fragile and he is opening his heart for the first time in his life. Be gentle."

"I promise."

--*--

"All right." Polk nudged Charlie’s shoulder, handing him a cigar when he looked up from his place in front of the hearth. "Now that we are away from the ladies, perhaps you will tell me."

Charlie finished tending the fire before standing and lighting his cigar. "What would you like to know?"

"Damn it, Charlie, do you have to be so stubborn all the time?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?" The Colonel smiled, taking the first puff of his cigar.

"You are intentionally trying to drive me insane."

"No, I am not, my friend. I am just getting accustomed to the fact that I have done something here in this beautiful country that I have never done before."

"And that is?"

"I believe I have had my heart captured by our hostess. I do believe I am falling in love with Miss Rebecca."

Polk blinked, not believing the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. "Love? Charlie just because you have found a little……um relief, with the lady, that is no reason to get silly over it."

"Richard, would you call your friendship with Elizabeth 'silly'?"

"No, but Elizabeth is not a Confederate widow either. She is a member of our own Union. Charlie this is dangerous. You are a career Army officer. You know as well as I do that you are on the short list for a fort command in the western territories when this is over."

"Richard, I have been in service to this country for almost twenty years. I am tired. Tired of the killing. Tired of the mud. Tired of the blood, and the heat and the cold. Tired of having no place I can call home. For the past four years, I have killed men and boys who are from my own country, my own state, even. I do not belong anywhere any more. I want a place where I belong."