Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

"Yes, General Redmond has decided to retire. He will be at his twenty-year mark and he has decided to take his leave. We are going to start a horse breeding program."

"Oh, how lovely. But do you really think that the folks in Culpeper will accept having a Yankee general in their midst?"

Rebecca chuckled. "They are split in their opinions. But I am sure that in time, General Redmond will overcome his detractors."

"Well, I do wish you good luck. Here in Washington, we have the reverse situation. Staunch supporters of the Union who are Southerners often receive less than charitable treatment. Why, even Mrs. Lincoln has had to suffer at the hands of the more radical Northerners."

"I am sure. These times have been very difficult on everyone. I do hope it is over soon."

"Well, I cannot say for sure, but many of the conversations I have heard suggest that the Confederacy cannot stand for much longer. I know that I for one have paid a terrible price for this war. But there are so many who want to somehow punish the Southern states for their personal pain that I cannot help but fear that we have not seen the last of this."

"I must admit that I have a very personal interest in seeing this end soon. I wish for my husband to come home, so we can begin our life together. It may seem selfish, but I cannot help it."

"For your sake, my dear, I hope that General Redmond can return to you. So many women have lost their husbands, their fathers, their sons." Mrs. Meigs could not help the tears that came to her eyes; her son had been killed just a few months earlier.

--*--

Riding back to the hotel than afternoon, Rebecca could not help but brood over the possibility of losing Charlie in the war. She clung to his arm tightly, but would not tell him why she was so distressed. Finally, in their room preparing for a quiet dinner beside the fire, he forced the issue.

"Rebecca, darling. You and I have been married for less than three days, yet you are acting like someone in mourning. Have you found that the idea of being married to me is not what you want?"

"Of course not. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just know that our time together is getting short, and I cannot help but feel helpless that there is nothing I can do but watch you ride away. And from what I have heard, the last days of this war are going to be horrid. I am worried for you."

"Do not worry too much, darling. I have managed to come through some of the worst of two wars with only minor injuries. I cannot believe my luck will change now." He lifted her hand and tenderly kissed her palm. "For luck, darling. On a different topic, dear, are you ready to meet Lizzie tomorrow?"

"Yes. I am actually looking forward to it. I hope that we will become friends."

Charlie just smiled, a somewhat forced smile, and served Rebecca some sliced beef. Oh my God, what will happen to me when those two get together?

"You are nervous about this," she stated as she poured Charlie a glass of wine.

Charlie thought about it for a moment and then agreed. "Yes. I suspect there are three women in the world who actually know me pretty well. You. Elizabeth. And Lizzie. You and Elizabeth are dangerous enough without adding Lizzie. Between you, I suspect you will identify every single flaw and weakness I have. Fortunately, I also have enough faith in your love for me to know I will be the more object of teasing than of hurtfulness."

"I am not interested in finding your flaws, Charlie. I just want to know your friends. I want to know the people who you trust enough to share your secret with."

Charlie knew when it was time to surrender and tuck his insecurities back in the little black pit where they belonged. "Yes, dear." Hmmmm. There was that phrase again.

--*--

Wednesday, February 1, 1865

Elizabeth Armstrong had dressed in a modest gray walking dress and a veiled hat. Her hair was up when she walked into the Willard that day. This was not the flamboyant hostess and confidante of the Washington powerful, but instead a quiet, discreet woman on her way to lunch privately with friends.

She knocked at the door to Charlie and Rebecca’s suite, where she was immediately greeted by both of her hosts. As Charlie took her wraps and hat, Rebecca looked her ex-competitor over carefully.

"Hello, Mrs. Armstrong, it is so nice finally to meet you."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Redmond. I am very grateful that you have invited me."

Charlie looked at the two of them a little stunned. He had never seen Lizzie dressed so conservatively. Nor had he ever seen her so…… reserved.

"Please, come in and sit. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Charlie has told me so much about you."

"Thank you, ma’am. He told me a little of you when he was here last month, as well. You seem to have given him something very special."

Rebecca led her guest to the davenport. "Well I hope so, but I have not given Charlie anything he has not given me."

Lizzie spent a moment settling herself on the davenport. She looked at the room, at the warm fire in the hearth, in fact everywhere except at Charlie or Rebecca. In a small voice, she said, "I envy you."

Rebecca looked to Charlie, feeling very lost and encouraging him to say something to the woman.

Charlie cleared his throat, groping for something neutral to say. "Um. Thank you so much for your wedding gift." He realized what he had just thanked her for and turned a truly startling shade of red.

Rebecca realized this was not going to get any better as long as Charlie was there to insert his boot into his mouth. "Darling," she smiled and tried to force the blush from her own face. "There is a matter to be taken up with your lawyer; now might be a good time to do so."

Charlie looked at her gratefully. Escaping was the best idea he had heard in a while. "Why, yes, dear, I do need to drop in on him. Let me just get the papers and my coat, and I will leave you two ladies to have a nice chat. Do not worry about lunch for me; I will grab something with my attorney." With that, Charlie bustled about the room for a moment, put some papers in his coat pocket, threw his greatcoat over his arm and bolted from the room.

Rebecca watched him go and smiled. Turning back to Lizzie, she sighed. "He is very good at the tactical retreat."

Lizzie laughed. "You know, I do not think I have ever seen the man so flustered."

"He tends to get that way when he feels overwhelmed by the fairer sex and I believe that you and I in the same room was more than he could handle."

"So we have overwhelmed him. Hmmm. The great ‘‘Lucky Charlie’ abashed by his own gender. This does have a certain…… irony." Lizzie fussed for a moment, and then changed the subject. "I hope you did not find my wedding present to be too…… presumptuous."

"No, actually, I found it very intriguing. Thank you. So tell me Mrs. Armstrong, why do you seem so nervous? I promise you I mean you no harm." Rebecca teased as she poured two cups of tea.

Lizzie drew in a deep breath. "Mrs. Redmond, a woman such as I am is not proper company for a lady like you. If the people you meet socially knew you had me as a guest in your rooms, they would shun you in a heartbeat."

Now Rebecca truly laughed. Eventually, she regained control of herself and offer Lizzie a pat on the arm. "My dear Mrs. Armstrong, the last thing in this world I am concerned with is what other people think. You are a friend of Charlie’s and I wanted to meet you in hopes that we also could become friends."

Lizzie blushed at Rebecca’s outburst. Charlie’s new wife clearly regarded social norms as annoyances, which was a refreshing change of attitude in Lizzie’s experience. "Ma’am, you do not understand. If I happen to meet one of the ‘‘proper’ ladies of this town at the haberdashery or the tearoom, they will cut me dead. I would not like that to happen to you."

"Mrs. Armstrong, I honestly do not care what people think. You are an important person in Charlie's life, a person who cares for him and a person he cares for. Your friendship is far more important than what people I do not know may think, or even, for that matter, what people I do know may think, because to be perfectly honest I do not like most of them anyhow."

Lizzie looked at Rebecca with an expression of total astonishment. Women of her acquaintance were simply not so outspoken. Slowly, astonishment turned to amusement. "My, my, Charlie has indeed found his match in you, ma’am," she grinned.

"I hope so. So, now, let us put all this talk of propriety away and enjoy ourselves."

Lizzie took a sip of tea and looked over at the table with their luncheon set out waiting for them. "I will if you promise not to let that lovely luncheon get cold."

"Very well. Shall we?" Rebecca moved to the table, gesturing for Lizzie to join her. Once the woman was seated, Rebecca continued. "Tell me, when did you meet Charlie?"

"Charlie and I met back when he was a newly made a captain and was assigned to work here in the Capitol for the first time. I was just a young thing, working for one of the more discreet madams in town. In fact, he helped me go into business on my own, a kindness for which I am very grateful. Over the years, we have renewed our acquaintance whenever he was in town. He has always been more of a friend than a client."

"I could tell that. He speaks of you as if you are one of his dearest and most trusted friends. You must know it is very hard for Charlie to allow anyone to get to close to him. Even Colonel Polk, who has been Charlie's friend for many years, does not know. As far as I know, there are only five of us who know Charlie’s secret."

"So how did you figure his secret out? More significantly, how did you feel about it when you did realize what he is?"

"I noticed the first time I met Charlie. He had been wounded in the shoulder. When I cleaned the wound, I noticed the bindings under his shirt. To be honest, I was terribly confused and amazed. I was amazed he had been able to hide so well for so long. When I realized I was developing feelings for Charlie, I fought them for the longest time." She smiled at Lizzie. "Then I realized it was just useless to fight something so powerful."

"It must have been very confusing for you. I doubt you had ever met anyone like Charlie before."

"Not that I was aware of, that is for certain. But I fell in love with Charlie, not Charlie's body. She is an amazing woman and quite a gallant gentleman."

A wistful look came over Lizzie’s features, as she looked away from Rebecca. "Yes, she is amazing and he is infinitely gallant."

"You love Charlie."

Lizzie took a deep breath. "Of course I do. He is one of my dearest friends."

Rebecca smiled. "That is not what I meant. You would have gone away with Charlie and lived as his wife."

A long silence ensued, while Lizzie simply sat there, with her eyes closed, twisting her napkin into an unrecognizable wad. Finally, she responded. "No, I would not have, for Charlie never asked me and, to be honest, never loved me that way. I was his friend, his mentor, and the place he went when the pain of being alone became too great. I was never the dream he reached for, as you are."

"Mrs. Armstrong, I think I know Charlie well enough to say that had you made your feelings known, it might have very well been you. I can say with a great deal of sincerity that Charlie loves you. Very much."

"He loves me as a friend. But he is not, nor has he ever been, in love with me. There is a huge difference between what he feels for you and what he feels for me. So I envy you. I wish it had been me that he saw his future in, but it was not. Perhaps it is because of the decisions I have made in my life; perhaps it was just not meant to be. But, my dear lady, I do love him enough to wish you and him well."

"Mrs. Armstrong, that means so very much to me; thank you. And I will say now, to you and to Charlie, that if he finds himself in a place where he needs someone by his side again, he would be well served to be with you."

Lizzie stood and walked to the window, looking down on the bustling street. "Mrs. Redmond, you are a young woman, younger than I. I do not expect he will be alone again. For that, I am very glad."

"Still, I am resolute in that belief, Mrs. Armstrong, and, please, if we are ever to become friends, you must call me Rebecca."

"My friends call me Lizzie, Rebecca."

"Good." She smiled and quietly gestured that Lizzie should sit down again. "Now, I have a few questions and you may feel free not to answer and be horribly mortified that I would even inquire about such things."

Lizzie shook off her own melancholy and sat back down. Lifting her fork, she paused before tasting more of the delicate omelet that was part of lunch. "I am beginning to suspect that there is nothing you will not explore if it suits you, my dear."

"This is true. I have learned that it does not pay to pretend that certain subjects are off limits or too delicate to talk about. So bluntly, my question is about sex."

Lizzie snorted. She had rather suspected, given the introduction that her professional skills were about to be called upon. "Yes, my dear? You choose to question a professional about her area of expertise. That seems a wise course of action." Lizzie could not help but grin at her own saucy response.

"Well, I do not seem to have any problems satisfying Charlie; she is very responsive to my touch. I was just wondering if Charlie has any particular needs that I would be better off knowing about. Since you have always been the one to serve those needs, I just thought you would be the one to ask."

Lizzie started laughing. "So, this conversation is so that one lover can hand him off to the other?" The image was priceless. Lizzie could not stop laughing.

"I do believe that sums up the gist of this conversation, yes." Rebecca could not help but smile. "Actually," she began to blush. "Did you ever notice the little 'squeak' Charlie makes when..."

"Yes. A most ungentlemanly little squeak. And entirely gratifying, I would say."

"So it would seem. The first time it happened, I thought I had done something very wrong."

"Oh, no, that is a symptom of something very right. I have also noticed that Charlie sometimes forgets to breathe."

"Oh yes, quite often. Then there is the resounding gasp." She smiled from behind her teacup. "It does seem that we have had the same experiences with Charlie. Apparently I am doing it right."

"It would seem. I have noticed that Charlie seems to prefer external stimulation to penetration."

"To be honest, I have never tried. Charlie guides me and I do what she asks." Rebecca considered the comment. "Interesting that I had not thought of that, or even noticed."

"Perhaps you might want to…… experiment a bit to discover what our oh-so-reserved gentleman prefers."

"I suppose I should." She bit her lip, trying to hide the smile caused by the simple imagery. "I wonder how it will go over."

Lizzie looked into Rebecca’s blushing face. "Of course, dear, Charlie may allow you to do things he would not accept from me."

"Hmm, there is some truth to that I suppose, but Charlie has known you for so much longer."

"It does not matter dear. Your relationship with him is far different from what mine ever was. He lets you into his soul as well as his heart. I suspect that he is less restrained with you than he was with me."

The blonde blushed again and nodded. "Indeed. That is very true. Thank you, Lizzie, for everything. So tell me, will you come to Culpeper and pay us a visit when Charlie is home?"

"My dear, if there is a social problem with you and I being together here in Washington, what kind of scandal would you create in Culpeper if I were to visit? I suspect my name is rather well known in certain circles."

"Well, I am not sure who of the remaining citizens in Culpeper might know of you, but I simply do not care. Please know that our home is open to you anytime you choose to visit."

Lizzie looked a little wistful. "Perhaps sometime in the future. For now, I think the two of you need time to settle into your relationship. And I need some time to accept that what I will see is something I cannot have."

"Lizzie, after my first husband died, I was sure the war would be the end of me. I had accepted the fact I would either be alone for the rest of my life or possibly dead. Not many men are interested in marrying a woman who has been married once and by all accounts of local gossip, was a horrible wife. Then Charlie came into my life, giving me hope again. You should not give up. Your time will come."

"I hope so. Sometimes I think I should take my earnings and go somewhere far from here, live a life as a quiet widow who does charitable works through the local church and supports a community lending library."

Just then, Charlie stuck his head through the door. His hair was tousled by the wind, his cheeks and nose reddened with the cold. "Is it safe to come in yet?"

Rebecca and Lizzie looked at each other and burst out laughing. Charlie, wise man that he was, retreated back downstairs to have a hot coffee and brandy in the Willard’s smoking lounge.

--*--

Em had vacillated between being demanding and cranky, and being sullen and cranky since Charlie and Rebecca’s departure. Mostly, she had been cranky. This afternoon, Elizabeth was sitting with her in the rear parlor playing with her blocks, trying to quiet her before Tess came to put her down for her nap.

The little girl threw one of her blocks causing it to bounce and just miss the fireplace.

"Em, did you see where your block almost went?"

"Em mad!" The little girl turned her back on the doctor and then proceeded to fall to the floor in a crying fit.

Elizabeth regarded the wailing child with a rather jaundiced look. "So, do you think if you do that enough, I will magically get them back here before Monday night?"

Em, uncaring about the doctor's attempt at humor, just kept crying. "Why Papa leave!"

"Because Papa and Mamma Becca needed to go to Washington for a week." Elizabeth refused to talk down to the child. She knew that Em was smart, and that she knew exactly what she was saying.

"Why?"

"Because they did."

Em sat up and sniffed. "Papa come home?"

"Papa will be home on Monday night."

Em wiped her eyes, then blew a bubble from her rather runny nose. "Miss Papa."

Elizabeth pulled an already soggy handkerchief from her pocket. "Here. Blow. Papa will be home on Monday night."

Richard wandered into the room just in time to see Elizabeth wiping Em's face. "Did I miss the two o'clock tantrum?"

"Yes, lucky for you. You can have the supper one." Elizabeth looked up at him. "And once more, we can see just how far around her finger she has managed to wrap Unca Wichad."

"Ooo, are we in a mood today, my dear? Does playing the surrogate mother not appeal to you?"

"Actually, the mothering part suits me nicely, thank you. It is the fact that neither of us can fill General Redmond’s boots that I find stressful."

"Yes she is quite attached to him. Can you imagine what Rebecca will have to deal with when we leave for the spring campaign?" Richard sat down on the floor and opened his arms and Em crawled right into them.

"Unca Wichad. Em miss Papa! Make Papa come home."

"Emily, your Aunt Elizabeth and I do not have the power to make Papa come home. He and Mama Becca will be back in five days. Now would you like to help Uncle Richard keep track of the days until they come home?"

"Em help?"

"Absolutely." Richard rooted around in his pocket until he pulled out five pennies. "There is a penny here for everyday that Papa will be gone. Now if you are good and do not cry for Papa anymore, every night before bed, Uncle Richard will give you a penny."

"Pennies pretty."

Elizabeth chuckled while she watched Richard, basically bribing the child.

"Yes they are very pretty and they can be all yours if you are good until Papa comes home."

Elizabeth intervened. "Emily, do you know how many pennies Uncle Richard has there?"

She looked at his hand and then to Elizabeth before shaking her head.

"How many fingers do you have on your hand, little one?"

She looked to her hand. Her brows came together and she guessed. "Fouw."

"Shall we count them?"

"Yes, pwease."

Elizabeth held up her index finger. "One"

"One." She grinned and held up another. "Twu."

"That is right." Elizabeth’s next finger went up and she waited to see if the little girl could respond.

"Twee."

"Very good, Em. I will have to tell your Papa and Mama Becca what a smart little girl you are." The next finger went up.

"Fouw." She looked to Richard for his approval, which he gave with a nod.

Elizabeth held up her thumb. "How many is this, Em?"

"One."

"And how many total fingers do I have?"

Em considered the question and then shrugged.

Elizabeth counted off her fingers. "One, two, three, four, five."

"Fwive?" She looked to the coins in Richard’s hand. "Fwive?"

"Very good, Em. Mama Becca and Papa will be back in five days."

"Em have penny?" she gave her best smile to her Uncle Richard.

"Em can have her penny at bedtime, if she is a good girl."

Just then Tess walked in and took Em up for her nap.

"So apart from Em acting like a two year old, how is your day going?"

"Interesting. Constance is slowly failing, so that is a worry, and Em has been atrociously demanding, but other than that, I have had some time to think. And I think I want to talk to you a little, sir, if you are willing?"

"Of course. I am yours to command," he said with a grin as he lifted himself off the floor and onto the settee with her.

"Ah. Is that true, Richard?" Suddenly, the normally acerbic Elizabeth was rather vulnerable.

"It is, my lovely lady. Very true."

"What you said Saturday? Did you mean it?"

"I meant every badly stuttered word." He smiled shyly. "I do believe seeing Charlie and Rebecca together has finally made me realize what it is I have been missing; you."

Elizabeth stared at her feet. They had been friends for a long time. She had come to rely on Richard’s quiet strength, his humor, and his unfailing presence. Was she in love with him? She was not sure. Could she imagine her life without him? No. "So after the war is over, are you asking for permission to court me officially?"

"Well, I think it is about time we made it official. We have been keeping company for sometime now."

Elizabeth, even though still a little confused, recognized that Richard was busy being Richard. Once again, his ability to evade serious emotions was impressive. "Ah, I understand. You are asking me to consider whether I am willing to have you ask me to think about whether I should marry you or not." She could not help it; she was overwhelmed by giggles.

"Ah, no, my dear doctor. I am not being politic, nor am I waffling. I am specifically asking you. I would be delighted if you would accept my proposal of marriage, although I must admit I am a little concerned that the concept causes you to laugh."

Elizabeth caught her breath. The giggles abruptly stopped and she looked him in the eye. "Are you serious, Richard? Do you really want to be married to me, even though I am a doctor? You do not want to make me give up my career?"

"Yes, I want to be married to you, and no, I would not ask you to give up your career. Elizabeth, you are doing important work. I would not dare ask you to relinquish it for fear that the Good Lord would strike me down for trying to clip the wings of an angel on Earth."

Elizabeth looked at Richard, blinking like an owl when a bright light is shone on it at night. "You mean it." She regarded him with a certain sense of wonder and realized that no, she could not envision her life without him. "Yes."

Now it was Richard's turn to be breathless. "Yes? Yes, you will marry me?"

"Yes."

He sat there for a moment with his head bobbing like a cork in a choppy stream. Then he smiled and took her in his arms. "I love you, Elizabeth Walker."

Elizabeth simply melted into his arms. "Me, too, Richard."

--*--

Charlie watched the lobby from his place in the smoking lounge, waiting for Lizzie to leave before he went back to his rooms and Rebecca. Somehow, the two women together just plain scared the bejezus out of him. But he did have to get back to the room sooner or later, as he needed to get cleaned up for dinner with the Grants, an event that called for full evening dress. Finally, he saw Lizzie stroll out to the cabstand. He hastily finished his coffee, stubbed out his cigar and hightailed it upstairs.

He walked into the room to find the maid assisting Rebecca in undressing and bathing, preparing for the first formal evening they would spend in Washington society.

"Hello, darling. I see you thought it safe to return." She sent the maid out with a gesture and then returned her attention to Charlie. "We were good, I promise."

"Not from what I heard. How did you get along?"

"We got along very well. I like her very much and I think we are on our way to becoming friends."

"I am glad, in an odd sort of way. I know Lizzie lives outside of the bounds of propriety, but I have found her to be a strong, honorable woman."

"She is indeed... a very sweet woman. I would be proud to call her my friend. I mean if I can marry a Yankee officer, then nothing is off limits for me, is it?"

Charlie looked at her and rubbed his hands over his cheeks. "I suppose not."

He started getting undressed, pulling his boots off, and unbuttoning his coat and weskit. As he did so, he pulled the papers from the lawyer out of his pocket. "I did see the attorney. Here are the adoption papers. They only have to be signed and notarized."

"Charlie, is something wrong?" Rebecca slipped on her robe and sat down next to him, gently taking his hand. "Have I upset you?"

"No, darling, not at all. It just hit me that you and I are officially about to have a family, that I have a responsibility that goes far beyond anything I ever anticipated having, and that I love you madly."

"Just remember when Em is hanging off your trouser leg and another baby is spitting up lunch on your best coat," she winked, "You asked for this."

"Perhaps I should ask General Sheridan to get me that bib."

"I am sure he would be happy to do that." She sighed and squeezed his hand. "I only want you to be happy, Charlie."

Charlie dropped his cravat on the foot of the bed and walked over to sweep Rebecca up in his arms. "I, my love, am the happiest human being on the face of the planet. Now, shall I wear my uniform or civilian clothes to General Grant’s this evening?"

"Oh, I think it is best to wear your uniform for dinner at the General's home."

Later, after much cuddling and teasing, the two were ready to set out for the General’s home. Rebecca was elegant in her green velvet evening dress; Charlie was, as usual, immaculate in his uniform. As he handed her into the carriage, he asked, "Are you ready to go and be the proper General’s wife?"

"I am ready to go in and try." She was very nervous, as could be heard in her voice and seen in the gentle shaking of her hands.

"Well, darling, if you had to choose an easy first time, it would be at General Grant’s. He is rather shy and usually very soft spoken. His wife is a very gentle lady. Neither of them stands on formality."

"Thank the Lord for small favors."

--*--

The rest of the events planned for the week went as planned. On Wednesday evening, the Redmonds dined with the Grants and a few old time career officers and their wives. In many ways, it was an enlightening evening for Rebecca. Conversation during dinner turned on politics, as was expected. There were clearly mixed feelings about President Lincoln’s policy of lenient reconstruction. Rebecca was saddened by the harshness of some of the opinions, which seemed to be in inverse proportion to the amount of time those expressing them had spent in the field against the Southern troops.

After dinner, the gentlemen retired for a cigar and a brandy, while the ladies gathered in the parlor for tea and gossip. On discovering that Rebecca had just joined the ranks of army wives, the ladies had abundant advice on how to survive the rigors of travel, of trying to establish a home in a new location every few years, of the politics of being an Army wife. While fascinating, Rebecca quietly and, to be honest, smugly thought I will not have to endure these problems, for my Charlie will just come home to me when this is over.

The next day brought a languid morning where Charlie and Rebecca stayed abed and explored the joys of being a married couple. Finally, they rose and dressed for tea with the Sewards. Rebecca found Mrs. Seward to be utterly charming, but Secretary Seward reminded her of some great snake, sitting, watching, and waiting to strike. She noticed that Charlie was far more guarded with the great man than she had ever seen him.

The evening was far more pleasant. Rebecca had never been to a real theater; she had seen only a few performances that had been presented by traveling players in Culpeper. The opulent setting of Ford’s Theater, and the power of one of the leading Shakespearean actors of the day were fascinating. Mr. Junius Booth was an older man with a most powerful presence and voice. At his peak, he had perfected his interpretation of Hamlet. Most people said that his son Edwin had already surpassed him, but Rebecca and Charlie both found his King Lear to be totally fascinating.

Rebecca was a bit nervous as they rode home. Tomorrow, she was invited to tea with Mrs. Lincoln, and without Charlie’s support.

"Dear heart, Mrs. Lincoln is just a woman, like any other. And I suspect a rather lonely one. She had taken a great deal of abuse because of her Southern roots and her spendthrift ways. Of course, there is the fact that she has been not quite right since the death of her son."

"Well, Charlie, you cannot blame me. I mean I am going to the home of the President and his wife. I am a Southerner. I cannot help but be nervous."

"It is no different than going to tea with Mrs. Grant or General Meigs and his wife. You know, Meigs is originally from Georgia, although Mrs. Meigs is from Pennsylvania, I believe. Just be yourself, dear, and be kind to a lady who is in a very difficult situation."

"Of course I will." Rebecca chuckled and squeezed Charlie's hand. "Can you imagine what the biddies will have to say when they find out I had tea with Mrs. Lincoln. My reputation will be beyond repair."

"Darling, you married me. Your reputation is already beyond repair."

"I assure you that this will put the final nail in the coffin." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before whispering in his ear. "Not that I care."

As it turned out, the afternoon with Mrs. Lincoln was very pleasant. The lady was pleased to have another Southerner to talk with –– and very informative about the politics that Rebecca would face that evening at the formal dinner with the McClellans.

--*--

Saturday, February 4, 1865

Rebecca had been very kind to Charlie; she had not demanded that he take her shopping every day. They had agreed Saturday would be their day to shop, as their only plans for the day were to attend a small concert in the evening. Charlie tucked his wallet in his pocket, pulled on his most comfortable walking shoes, and girded himself to endure what he considered torture with a smile.

Rebecca entered from the bathing room wearing the light blue walking dress Charlie was so fond of. "Am I presentable for the masses?"

"Entirely, my dear. I believe I may have to take a walking stick just to keep the local bucks away from you."

She laughed as she ran a hand over his chest. "Much like the one I will need to keep the ladies away from you."

"Shall we, my dear?" The sooner we get this started, the sooner it will be finished, I hope.

"Of course. Oh, while we are out I would very much like to buy Reverend Williams a gift. He has been so kind and supportive. I would like to thank him."

"What would you like to get him, dear?"

"I think a new Bible. The one he has is old and worn. I noticed during services last Sunday that the pages were starting to come loose."

"Ah, a lovely gift. There is a very nice bookstore just around the corner from the haberdashery."

"Wonderful. Then I am at your leisure, dear husband. Please take me and show me your city."

They strolled up 14th Street to G Street and turned east toward the Capitol. While many of the streets were cobbled, some of the smaller cross streets were still dirt and mud. Fortunately, there were raised boardwalks all through the city to help ladies protect their long dresses. One block over, they found a lovely bookstore, with a large selection of religious works.

Rebecca spent quite a while trying to choose just the proper Bible for the good Reverend. All the while Charlie leaned against a wall and tried to look like he was paying attention.

Finally she settled on a beautiful leather bound volume, which the clerk informed her he could emboss with Reverend Williams’s initials. She presented the book to Charlie.

"What do you think of this one?"

"Hummm. Nice leather."

Rebecca looked around to make sure no one could hear her, but she needed to find out if Charlie was actually paying attention. "Charlie, I think we should go back to the hotel room and you should let me strip off all your clothes and have my way with you."

"Whatever you want, dear."

"Charles Redmond! I swear!" She turned on her heel and went back to the clerk. "This one will do nicely. Thank you."

Charlie looked around, a little bewildered. He had found a copy of Xenophon’s The Thousand and was enthralled by the new translation. Rebecca was standing at the counter and, by the look on her face, she was not happy. Perhaps the Bible she had chosen was more expensive than she had expected.

Finally, Rebecca returned to him and tugged on his shoulder. "Perhaps, my dear, we should go to a tack or leather shop, some place you might feel more appealing." As she said this she handed him the package, which he was expected to dutifully carry.

"No, dear, of course not. This is your shopping trip, so we will go where you want."

At this point she could not be mad at him any longer. She realized that he was a fish out of water, and that he was really trying. "All right, Charlie. Perhaps a bite of lunch somewhere?"

"Certainly. I think there is a little tea room over on 11th that you would like." Manfully, he escorted her out of the bookstore and two blocks down the street, carrying the rather heavy Bible under his arm. As they walked, he talked about how construction was progressing on new office buildings and especially on the Archives, which was being designed specifically to house the Constitution and Declaration of Independence.

"That big building for those two documents?"

Charlie laughed. "Those two documents and all of the ensuing paperwork that goes into running the country those documents created, my dear."

Rebecca blushed, realizing that she sounded like a simpleton. "I guess you can take the woman out of the country, but not the country out of the woman. That had to be one of the most idiotic questions that has ever passed my lips."

"No, darling, not at all. I think very few people ever think about how much paper has to be created and stored to run a country."

"You are very kind, Charlie," she chuckled as they continued down the street.

The rest of the day was spent going from store to store, acquiring all of those things Rebecca had done without for so many years as the war had inexorably narrowed her life to the basics of staying alive. It was heaven for her, hell for him, and rough on Charlie’s checkbook. Charlie stopped at his favorite wine shop and sent a very profuse thank you attached to a case of outstanding brandy to General Grant for the use of his train car. Without it, Charlie would have been hard pressed to transport all of Rebecca’s purchases home.

That evening, they attended a concert put on by the Marine Corps Band. On the carriage ride to the Marine Barracks east of the Capitol building, Charlie told her how the Band came into existence. The band was really a small orchestra. Called "The President’s Own," it was a Washington institution, providing music for the people of the city since John Adams first took up residence at the White House. During the war, they held a concert every Saturday evening and played in Lafayette Park, across from the White House, every Sunday afternoon and Wednesday evenings. It was a lovely evening.

Sunday was a quiet day. They rose and attended services at St. John’s church, diagonally across the park from the White House. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln quietly joined the congregation, taking their seat in Pew 54, as had every president since Mr. and Mrs. Monroe. The service was gentle, a plea for peace, with the text based on the prodigal son. Mrs. Lincoln politely greeted Rebecca and Charlie after the service, introducing them to her husband.

That evening was most entertaining. Mr. Jay Cooke, a well-known financier, was visiting from his home in Philadelphia and staying at the Willard. Charlie and Mr. Cook had run into one another earlier in the week, and Mr. Cooke invited Charlie and Rebecca to join him for dinner. He was a charming and gracious host and Rebecca enjoyed the evening enormously. After dinner, the gentlemen excused themselves briefly to discuss business. Charlie was very thoughtful that night. When Rebecca tried to pry some information out of him, he was not particularly forthcoming. "Thinking about the future, honey. Thinking about the future." Rebecca resolved to ferret it out of him in the not too far distant future.

But for now, they needed to pack and get at least some sleep. The train home left early the following morning.

Chapter 29

Sunday, February 5, 1865

Rebecca settled into bed, while Charlie finished in the bathing room. She let her mind wonder at the possibilities for the evening, knowing full well that Charlie would not turn away her attentions.

She rolled over and looked in the nightstand to find the box containing Lizzie's gift. She quickly took it from the drawer and tucked it away on her own side of the bed. The blonde had decided that perhaps tonight was the night when the tables would be turned. She would possibly place a foot in what had been Charlie's world, while inviting Charlie into her own.

She tapped her fingers against the covers as she stared at the door, where Charlie was still ensconced, doing God only knew what. "Charlie? Are you all right?"

"Yes, dear. I was just, um, brushing my teeth." Charlie had taken special care tonight, cleaning every nook and cranny of her body, brushing her hair till it gleamed. It was the last night of their honeymoon, and she wanted to make it memorable.

Rebecca watched as Charlie dropped her robe and got into bed. The blonde smiled and gave the evening an unexpected start when she opened her own arms, inviting Charlie there.

Charlie settled into her arms, a little awkward, a little surprised, but very pleased. Being held was something that Charlie had experienced very seldom since she was a small child.

"Comfortable?" she asked as she slowly traced her fingers over Charlie's arm.

Charlie burrowed her head into the hollow of Rebecca’s shoulder and purred like a big, happy cat. "Incredibly. This feels so good. I think I understand why you like it so much."

"It is my favorite place, Charlie. Safe in your arms." She paused and let her hand slip under Charlie's arm to caress her side. "Are you ah, tired?"

Charlie’s voice dropped an octave as she stroked the soft skin over Rebecca’s ribs. "No, darling. Being with you always excites me." Charlie gently kissed the warm skin under her cheek.

"Oh yes, well……" Rebecca was breathless with Charlie's touch. Then she remembered she was the one who was supposed to be doing the seducing tonight. She placed her fingers under Charlie's chin and lifted her face, and then she kissed her. Kissed her with all the passion she felt for her partner.

Charlie stiffened for a moment. In her entire life, even when she was first learning about the love that was possible between two women, she had never been anything other than the aggressor, the initiator. Rebecca taking the lead in their lovemaking was startling and almost alarming. Charlie felt overwhelmingly vulnerable. But then the tenderness mixed with passion that was so uniquely part of Rebecca’s love broke through Charlie’s defenses. She surrendered to her partner’s kiss and touch.

Rebecca pulled back from the kiss and looked into Charlie's eyes; having felt her stiffen, she was concerned. "Are you all right?"

Charlie looked straight in her eyes. "I am very all right. And I am very yours."

Rebecca cleared her throat nervously. "I am glad to hear that, Charlie. If it is all right with you, I would like to experiment a little tonight."

"Whatever you want, however you want me, is always all right with me, darling. I am yours tonight."

Rebecca kissed Charlie again then turned and fetched the box. "Whatever I want?"

Charlie smiled when she saw the box. "Anything at all, darling."

The blonde opened the box and removed the item inside then she dropped the box to the floor with a thump. " I am really glad to hear you say that, Charlie."

Charlie smiled and reached for the implement. "Whatever you want, love. You know that just touching you drives me crazy."

She pulled it back from Charlie's reach. "No, darling, I do not think you are seeing the whole picture."

Charlie looked at her in confusion. "You mean you do not want me to……"

"No." She smiled, kissed Charlie and placed the phallus gently between Charlie's legs, giving it several short, smooth movements.

Charlie’s eyes grew very large as Rebecca stroked her. "Ah, darling? Are you sure…… I mean do you really…… ah?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really want to use that on me?"

"Yes, but only if it is what you want."

"I want anything you want. I just have never…… never had such a thing used on me." Charlie looked at her, saw all of the love and trust that was there. Then she saw the image of Rebecca between her legs, loving her, filling her, giving her all of the pleasure and passion in that huge soul. Shyly, she added, "please, go gently?"

She nodded and swallowed hard. "If I remember correctly, there is something I should do first."

Charlie’s heart tried to pound itself out of her chest. "Oh, God, please." Just the idea of Rebecca making love to her had her pulse racing and her body throbbing. The idea that Rebecca’s lips would follow where her fingers and the phallus were already tracing was enough to drive her mad.

Very slowly, very gently, Rebecca began kissing all of Charlie's body, starting at her shoulders. She laid the phallus to the side, but not out of reach. Her hands traveled back to Charlie, caressing skin already warm and slightly damp. She found her own hesitation and nervousness melting away with every twitch, moan and gasp from Charlie, as her mouth kept moving down, leaving a trail of warm kisses.

Charlie thought she was going insane. No one had ever done this to her before. Rebecca’s mouth was lighting flames over her breasts, down her ribs and over her belly. Charlie’s hands knotted the sheets, and her body arched up to meet Rebecca’s lips. She was past words, past thought. She was need incarnate.

Rebecca continued her quest, until her lips met Charlie's thick patch. Very slowly she placed her hand as Charlie had the night she had done this same thing and she parted her. Carefully and tentatively, she made her first explorations with gentle fingers, finding Charlie wet and welcoming. Then her took her first taste. It different from what she had expected. For her, it was like nectar she had never known existed, and she indulged herself with great delight.

Charlie thought she would die. Part of her wanted to pull Rebecca into herself, needing desperately to find release from the intense feelings the blonde was creating in her. The other part wanted to encourage Rebecca, allowing her to continue her explorations at her own pace. She just kept climbing higher and higher.

Rebecca had to collect her thoughts and try to remember exactly why she had started this. She was very quickly getting lost in this new, delicious discovery. Her hand slid around the bed, coming in contact with the phallus and she remembered her mission for this evening. Slowly and reluctantly, she halted her attentions and fumbled with the harness for a moment until she was sure it was on properly. Then she slowly started making her way back up Charlie's long torso.

Charlie’s body curled up to receive Rebecca in her arms and all along the length of her longer body. Her legs opened wider to accept Rebecca’s hips comfortably and settle their bodies together more firmly. With one hand, she assisted Rebecca in guiding the phallus to her own opening, then wrapped both hands around her hips and pulled her in slowly.

Rebecca's eyes dropped shut at the sensation; it was truly like nothing she had ever felt before. A low groan escaped as the strap stimulated her as she settled against Charlie's body.

Charlie’s whole body arched, drawing Rebecca into her. A ragged gasp was forced from her lungs. For the first time in her life, her lover filled her. Slowly, her hips began to move, drawing Rebecca in deeper, then easing back. It was the most profound surrender Charlie had ever experienced. For the first time in her adult life, she was totally female, and totally Rebecca’s.

Moving gently, focusing on what Charlie's own body was telling her to do, Rebecca remembered the movements that Charlie had used to drive her crazy on their wedding night. She was determined that Charlie should have the same experience. She made sure her movements were gentle but firm, increasing or decreasing the tempo as Charlie moved with her.

"Love you Charlie," she managed to grit out as the pressure built within her own body.

Charlie could not speak. Her body was one flame of passion and love, surrendered entirely to Rebecca. She had climbed higher than she ever dreamed possible and as she heard Rebecca’s words husked into her ear, her world exploded in a roaring cascade of flashing colors and flames. Her body went totally rigid, then curled up, her legs closing around Rebecca’s hips to hold her as close as possible. She gasped, "Rebecca!" and promptly passed out.

Rebecca exploded with Charlie as soon as she heard her own name cried out. When she caught her breath and opened her eyes she looked down at Charlie. "Darling? Charlie?"

Slowly, Charlie returned to the world. As consciousness returned, the most amazingly silly grin lit her face "I love you." That was all she could say.

--*--

Monday, February 6, 1865

Charlie had wired ahead to inform Jocko that the little trap was not sufficient to carry home their baggage. They arrived late in the afternoon at the station, where Jocko and several troopers worked furiously for a few minutes to unload all of the baggage including the rather extensive purchases Rebecca had made in her one day shopping frenzy.

As they rode home in the big supply wagon, Charlie looked at Rebecca. "Darling, I have to say, spending a week in Washington with just the two of us and few duties to attend to was lovely, but I think I like the fact that we are coming home."

"Yes, I loved the trip. My first time out of Virginia, but this is my home." She took his hand. "Our home, and I am glad to be back."

As they rounded the curve of the carriageway to the house, Charlie spotted a forlorn little figure sitting slumped on the portico steps. As the sounds of the team reached the house, the little black-haired head came up and a small body propelled itself like a rocket at the moving carriage. "Papa!"

All Charlie could see was Em running toward the horses. He jumped from the carriage and with long strides, caught the little imp up before she and the horses intersected. "Emily. You know better than to run at horses like that." Charlie, like most parents, reacted in fear first and then anger that his little one had done something so dangerous.

All Em knew was that her Papa was home and he was definitely not happy with her. The tears started like a spring that had been plugged and was suddenly cleared. "Papa. Em sorry. Papa!"

Jocko drew the wagon to a halt, and Rebecca joined the wailing child and shaky father.

Rebecca rubbed Charlie's back to soothe him and she carefully looked Em over before stating. "Charlie, she is fine. I think you scared her more than the horses did."

Charlie settled the little girl more securely on his hip. "I am sorry, Em. You scared Papa. The horses are big, and they could have hurt you if you had surprised them."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Sorry. Miss Papa."

"Papa and Mamma Becca missed you, too, imp."

She pulled back and grabbed his cheeks as was becoming her habit. "Papa not leave ‘‘gain."

"Little one, Papa has to work, and has to leave sometimes, but Papa is home for a while."

At the thought of her Papa leaving again Em decided to go into a full blown pout and reached for Rebecca. "Mamma ‘‘Becca."

Rebecca took the child in her arms and grinned at Charlie. "Let us go inside. It is far too cold out here for her."

They walked in to a scene of minor mayhem. Jocko and Reg were trying to unload the carriage, simultaneously directing several troopers in various directions, usually contradictory. The three escaped to the back parlor, where a nice fire was already lit and a small kettle was simmering on the hob, with the teapot waiting to be filled.

"So, imp, were you good for Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Richard while we were gone?"

"Yes, Papa, Em good. Get penny fwom Unc Wichad."

"Oh. Just one?"

"No. Penny." She held up her hand stretching her fingers as far apart as they would go. "Many."

"How many pennies did you get?"

Rebecca chuckled as she poured them both a cup of tea. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, she is trying to tell you how many pennies Richard gave her."

"Oh." He grinned at her. Learning to be a commander was much easier than learning how to be a Papa. "So Uncle Richard gave you this many pennies." He held his own hand up with all five fingers spread."

"Yes. Em not cry, Unc Wichad give penny."

Charlie looked at Rebecca. "Seems that Richard learned the advantages of bribery, too."

Then he turned back to his daughter. "So, Em, how many pennies?"

She looked to her hand and then to her Papa. She gave a soft sigh. "Fibe."

"Very good, Em. I am proud that you are learning to count."

Rebecca settled down on the couch and took Em from Charlie, cuddling her into the crook of her arm and kissed her on the top of the head. "I missed you, my little darling."

"Em miss Mamma ‘‘Becca."

Charlie stood and looked at his beautiful wife and their very lively daughter, cuddling, laughing, with Em plastering soggy baby kisses on Rebecca’s face. At that moment, he felt a peace he had never known before. The idyllic moment was broken as Elizabeth stormed into the room.

"Thank God. You are back. I swear this child has driven me insane with moping and wailing and sulking and wanting her Mamma ‘‘Becca and Papa. I gave up today. She was plastered to the window in the hall at dawn. She nearly ran down the first person that opened the front door so she could go sit on the porch and wait." Elizabeth’s description and the angelic little girl in Rebecca’s arms somehow did not match.

It was probably not the wisest move Charles Redmond ever made. He burst out laughing at his flustered friend.

"Ignore him, Elizabeth." Rebecca turned mischievous eyes on Charlie. "He has just not been himself since last evening."

Charlie had the grace to blush a charming shade of red, starting with his ears as usual and working its way across his face. He rather gracelessly changed the subject. "So, Elizabeth, how are you and Richard?"

"Engaged."

"Ah, good, good…… Engaged? He really meant it?"

"He did indeed. We managed to get the confusion cleared up while you were off lollygagging in Washington."

Charlie stood there with his jaw gaping. He looked back and forth from Elizabeth to Rebecca. The very thought of being in this household while another wedding was being planned put the fear of God in him. Eventually, he managed to stammer out, "Ah…… congratulations. You will, of course, be married here?"

"I am not sure where we will be married Charlie. We have both agreed it would be best to wait until after the spring campaign."

"Well, we must celebrate. Is Richard joining us for dinner?"

Elizabeth laughed, "Actually, my clumsy fiancéé is in his tent resting. He wrenched his ankle this morning. It is nothing serious but he will be off of it for a day or two."

Rebecca stood and gave Elizabeth as much of a hug as she could, with Em in her arms. "Congratulations, Elizabeth. If you and Richard would like to come back here for your wedding, please know you are welcome."

"You know, Rebecca, now that we have the guest population under control, do you think we could find a room here in the house for Richard?"

The blonde grinned. "Oh, I do not know, Charlie. Do you think it would be safe to let them be under the same roof? I am not sure we can chaperone them all the time."

Charlie grinned back. "Well, perhaps they would like as much chaperonage as you and I had."

"Hmm. This is true." She turned green eyes on Elizabeth. "What do you think? Can we trust you and Richard not to corrupt the moral fiber of Culpeper if we let him stay in the house?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. "Considering what you two have done to the normal standards of propriety, I have no doubt that we will be able to conduct ourselves appropriately."

"Well, make sure that you at least live up to our standard," she teased, then rang the bell for Reg.

When the butler appeared, she gave him the instructions that a room should be prepared for Colonel Polk.

"So, do we need to organize a team to transport himself up to the house?"

"I think he could use a hand or two. Perhaps Jocko and Duncan could help him."

Charlie caught Reg in the hall, and instructed that Jocko, who was just finishing with unloading the wagon, be asked to step in for a moment.

After a few minutes, Jocko came into the room and bowed very deeply at the waist. "Oh yes, Your Majesty, what can your lowly serf be doing for ya now."

"Thank you, Sergeant Jackson. Your impression of a Russian is outstanding. How is Mrs. White? And so you know, I invited you in to help us congratulate Doctor Walker and to ask if you will perform a mission of mercy."

"Mrs. White is fine." He turned to Elizabeth. "I am not sure what I am congratulating you for, but well done, whatever is it. And who needs rescuing now?"

Charlie broke out in gales of laughter. "I am glad, and look forward to seeing her. Do you think she would join us for dinner? Doctor Walker is engaged to Colonel Polk. And Colonel Polk, with his twisted ankle, needs a hand in moving over to his new room here in the main house. Oh, and Jocko, will you join us for dinner as well?"

Jocko smiled when he realized he was being a complete ass. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir." He nodded to Rebecca. "Thank you, ma'am. I will take care of everything, General."

Charlie and Rebecca, carrying Em with them, excused themselves to go upstairs and freshen up. Jocko and Elizabeth set off to collect Richard and get him settled in the house. The evening promised to be amusing.

--*--

Charlie carried Em upstairs and handed her over to Tess. He had a very tired, much happier little one in his arms than the household had evidently seen for the past week. As he emerged back into the hall, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he feared would be at best a bittersweet meeting. He patted his coat pocket to make sure that the papers were all there and knocked lightly on Constance’s door.

As he stepped into the room, he had to tightly discipline himself. In the week they had been gone, it was obvious that Constance’s condition had worsened. She was pale and languid; only her eyes remained truly vital. Her Bible was open at her side and the room was decidedly warm from the carefully tended fire in the hearth.

"Good afternoon, Miss Constance. I hope I am not disturbing you."

"Not at all General, please come in."

Charlie entered and walked to stand beside the window. It was cooler there. "So how have you been doing while we were gone? I hope that things have not been to great a strain on you, ma’am."

"I have been as can be expected, sir. Not much use to anyone except my little one here." She slowly rubbed her belly.

"You are doing the most miraculous thing that any human can do, ma’am. You are creating a new life. I believe that is of use to the whole world. And to bring new life into the world as it is now –– well, to me, that is an act of incredible courage." Charlie smiled at her, a tender smile. This woman was as valiant as any man in Charlie’s regiment. But trying to tell her that was useless. She was bringing a life into the world, something Charlie would never be able to do. Charlie was perfectly well aware of the price that Constance was willing to pay.

"Come here, General." She gave the edge of the bed a gentle pat.

Charlie sat rather gingerly on the very edge of Constance’s bed. For a moment, he fidgeted with his hands, not quite sure where to put them, then settled on folding them on one knee, using them to brace himself in a rather uncomfortable position.

Without a word said between them, but looking him directly in the eyes, Constance took Charlie's hand and placed it on her stomach. "Do you feel that?"

Charlie’s eyes widened, first from the mere fact of the touch, which was unheard of in his world. Women in the advanced stages of pregnancy were not even seen socially, let alone touched so intimately by a man other than her husband or physician. But then he felt what she meant him to, the movements of what felt like a very robust child, battering at his or her mother, eager to be out in the world. A look of pure wonder filled Charlie’s face. "Is that……?"

"That is life, General. The life of your son or daughter."

Tears filled Charlie’s eyes. He took Constance’s hand in his own and raised it reverently to his lips. "You give me a gift for which I can never even begin to express my gratitude. I pray daily for your survival, dear lady. Please know that should you survive this birth, you have a home and my protection for the rest of my life."

"That is a very kind offer, but all I ask is that my children have a home and a family to love and care for them."

Charlie laid his right hand on the Bible that was still lying on the covers beside Constance. "Ma’am, I swear on all that I hold holy and sacred, I will love them, care for them and raise them as I would children of my body. Em is already the daughter of my heart; this child," he reverently placed his hand on her belly, "I think, will be my firstborn son."

Constance could not help but smile. "Then I hope for you, it is a boy. A fine son and heir for you and Rebecca."

Charlie looked very serious. "And if it is a girl, can we name her Constance? For you must know, whether it is a boy or a girl, this child will be greatly loved."

"I would be honored, and yes I do know that. But tell me, General, if it is a boy, what will you name him?"

Charlie could see in her eyes she was teasing him. "I have always thought Charles to be a fine name. However, I suspect that Rebecca may have some thoughts on the subject."

"So it is. Tell me, General, what has brought you to my side?"

"You asked me to handle all of the appropriate legal issues so that adoption of these children would be very clear. I have done so. For Emily, all we need do is fill in her date and county of birth, have you sign it, and have it witnessed. For this little one," he gestured at her distended belly, "we will have to fill in the name, date of birth and county when the time comes."

Charlie laid the two documents at her side, then rose and retreated to the window. Looking out, he continued in a quiet, determined voice. "I want you to look over the papers before you sign them. There is a third document I want you to examine as well." He pulled the papers from his pocket. He had set up a trust fund in Constance’s name, which would automatically be split between the two children in the event of her death. "I wanted you to know that you, and they, would be taken care of financially, regardless of what may happen to me in the upcoming campaign."

"General, that really is too much. I am sure you will be fine. However, if something were to come to pass, I am certain Rebecca would still stand with the children."

"I know she would. But if you survive, you will not be dependent on her or anyone. And if you do not, you can rest assured that they have their own means, regardless of what may happened here. I just wanted to be –– complete and let you know how serious my commitment to them is."

"You are indeed a kind man. Thank you for your generosity."

Constance looked at the papers beside her and then at the fidgeting man at the window. "General, I have faith in your honor and the completeness of these documents. Will you go and find witnesses so that we can finish this now?"

Charlie nodded and stepped to the bell pull, summoning Tess. He asked her to fetch Dr. Walker and Sergeant Jackson. As they waited for those two old and trusted friends to join them, they sat together in silent companionship, all that needed to be said, had been. When Elizabeth and Jocko entered the room, Charlie quietly explained what he needed from them.

"We will be glad to help you, Charlie." Elizabeth sat on the bed and took Constance’s hand. "And you are sure? You trust Charlie and Rebecca to raise these children?"

Constance smiled, her face lighting so that for a moment, she looked almost healthy. "I cannot think of two people who deserve children more than the General and Rebecca. And besides, we could not pry Em away from the General if we had to. Now, let us get the legalities out of the way."

Charlie laid the papers out while Elizabeth helped Constance sit up in her bed and positioned a lapboard across her knees. The signing of the adoption papers went quickly. The final document, the trust fund, brought raised eyebrows from both Elizabeth and Jocko.

"Hmmm, Gen’l C. You are bound and determined to cover all bases. Would you consider adopting me?"

--*--

Dinner had been comfortable but slightly subdued after the signing of the adoption papers. Constance’s confinement and probable death hung like a cloud over what was otherwise a festive occasion. As the meal finished, Jocko and Mrs. White excused themselves. With a bit of teasing and smirking on the part of the other folks at the table, they made a laughing exit from the dining room. Courting couples were always fair game for teasing.

Charlie assisted Richard from the table and, limping heavily, into the back parlor. A small game table was set before the fireplace and the four of them sat down for an evening of cards and gossip. As Charlie shuffled, Elizabeth started quizzing Rebecca on what they had done and whom they had seen in Washington.

"Well, my friend, I do not think there was a fashionable home in Washington we did not call on. I even had the good fortune to take tea with Mrs. Lincoln."

"Tea with Mrs. Lincoln. I have heard many things of her. So tell me, what is she really like?"

"Oh, she was absolutely charming. I think, perhaps, she is very lonely. There is so much animosity toward Southerners in Washington nowadays, and she is still obviously one. I hear tell that many people do not understand how important it is to maintain appearances at the White House, as well, and do not appreciate what she has done to refurbish the place."

Charlie and Richard sat quietly, neatly arranging their cards and pretending to be part of the furniture.

"I have heard that she has mediums in and out of the White House regularly to try and contact her dead son. She seems to have a reputation as a rather strange bird."

"I think the loss of her son, coupled with all of the horror of this war, has left her with a great sadness and a longing for something she cannot articulate."

"Before I arrived here, I took dinner with a friend of mine who is an aide in the White House. He said there was rumor of a dream that President Lincoln has been having regularly for the last few months and it may also have something to do with her mood."

"Yes, she mentioned it and I think it weighs heavily on her heart. Mr. Lincoln does not expect to survive his tenure. I pray sincerely he does, for if he dies, the South haters will gain control and I fear the aftermath will be very hard."

Charlie and Richard continued their silence. Both were aware, far more so than Rebecca and Elizabeth, just how deeply the desire for revenge ran in some of the Northern politicians.

"I do believe," Rebecca patted Charlie's hand. "That my dear husband was a little stunned when we went shopping."

Charlie had the grace to hang his head a bit. "Well, uh, it was a bit, uh, extensive." He looked intently at his cards. "Will you open the bidding, dear?"

Rebecca sighed and for the first time looked at her cards. After a moment of arranging them she made her bid, then looked to Charlie. "Yes, dear."

For a few moments, the four of them concentrated on their cards. Charlie then commented, "You know, we did have dinner with Jay Cooke."

Richard’s eyes left Elizabeth for a moment. "The banker?"

"Yes. He and I discussed what the business world would be like down here after the war is over. I think Culpeper will be in need of a fair bit of support to recover, so we are beginning to explore the idea of opening a bank here when I get back."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "A bank? Charlie, you did not mention that. That is wonderful."

"Well, dear, we are still at the talking stage. Nothing specific has been set down yet and I did not want to get your hopes up."

"It certainly does not matter to me. We will be busy enough with the farm, but if the opportunity arises for you it would be tremendous."

"Oh, I do not think I will have the day to day running of it, if it comes about at all. I really do not have the skills for it. But several of our men were clerks and such before the war and perhaps one of them will be willing to move here and help us out."

Rebecca nodded and laid a card on the trick. She could tell Charlie was excited. "You would make a wonderful banker. Perhaps Elizabeth will come back and open a hospital. And Sergeant Jackson could come in and run the local tavern," she teased as she watched Richard try to decide which card to play.

Charlie and Richard both laughed. The idea of Jocko as a tavern keeper was most amusing. Richard, in particular, had a history of attempting to drink Jocko under the table –– and failing miserably. "My dear, if Jocko were the tavern keeper, he would likely drink all his profits and then some. I do believe that man has the original hollow leg." Richard thought for a moment. "On the other hand, if he ran out of rum, all he would need to do is tap into his own arm, for with all he has consumed over the years, I suspect he has it running in his veins instead of blood." Richard laid down his card and surrendered the trick to the ladies.

--*--

Friday, February 17, 1865

All through the day, Sarah had been cooking. A birthday –– the first birthday that sweet little girl could really celebrate –– was an important event. Sarah was busy fixing everything the little one liked for dinner and baking a lovely spice cake, decorated with whipped cream frosting. Gen’l Charlie had brought home some fine sugar instead of the heavy brown stuff they got if they were lucky. Sarah was in her element.

At the same time, Tess had a very excited little girl to contend with. All she could think of was the party that had been promised to her. It was not obvious that Em understood what a birthday was, but she certainly understood the idea of a party. And she wanted it to start immediately.

Charlie came in from his daily rounds and went upstairs to change into his oldest coat. As surely as the sun rose and set, he knew he would be wearing birthday cake before the day was complete.

Rebecca entered their room and slid up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his back. "I love you, Charlotte Redmond."

Charlie stopped breathing. No one had called her Charlotte in twenty years. As far as she could remember, no one had said ‘‘I love you’ to Charlotte since her mother, that blurry figure in the recesses of her early childhood memories. She managed to find her voice. "I love you, Rebecca Redmond."

She drew in a deep satisfied breath and patted his back. "But now, my dashing husband, you have a little girl who is chomping at the bit for her 'pawty' to begin, and I think we should get downstairs before she has a full blown conniption."

Charlie laughed, settled his coat and offered Rebecca his arm. "Well, madam, shall we?"

Arm in arm, they went to the nursery and collected Em and Tess. "Well, little one, it is time. First, we will visit your mama, so you must be very good and gentle."

"Yes, Papa. I be good."

They entered Constance’s room quietly. The fragile woman was waiting for them and beckoned Em to her with open arms. "How is my big girl today?"

"Mama, I am good, Papa say."

Charlie and Constance smiled at one another over the shining black head currently cuddled onto Constance’s shoulder. "So, Emily, what are you going to do now that you are two and a big girl?"

"Unc Wichawd make me count." She held up her hand. "Dis many."

Constance laughed, an act that unfortunately set off a coughing fit. Rebecca lifted the little girl from her arms, while Charlie braced her through the episode. Finally, she regained her breath. "Well, little one, I wish I could come downstairs with you, but I am afraid I have to stay here in my bed. You have a lovely birthday, my darling girl."

"Yes, Mama. I love you."

The little girl was very quiet and solemn as Rebecca carried her downstairs. "Mama bewy sick."

"Yes sweetheart, she is."

"Mama go be with real Papa?"

Rebecca looked at he child, for the first time realizing how much this little girl really understood. "Yes, your Papa Henry and God."

Em thought for a few minutes. "You be my real mama then?"

"If you would like. Yes, I will be your Mama."

"Good. Mama be happy, Em be happy with you. Pawty now?"

Rebecca chuckled and hugged her little girl. "As soon as Papa comes down from tending to your Mama."

Rebecca, burdened with the weight of the rapidly growing child, had walked down the stairs slowly. Charlie, having settled Constance, hurried behind them.

Together the three of them entered the main dining room. Elizabeth and Richard were waiting, along with Samantha Carter and Jeremiah, Jocko and Mrs. White, and even Duncan. He had recently been elevated to the rank of Sergeant and was looking a little uncomfortable, although one could not tell if it was because of the new stripes on his tunic or the basket he held awkwardly in his hands.

Charlie relieved Rebecca of Em and announced for the room. "Ladies and gentleman, may I present the birthday girl, Miss Emily Adams."

Applause broke out as Charlie set the little girl down on her own two feet. "Your curtsy, if you please, Miss Emily."

Emily looked up to him and ran her tongue between her lips. They had secretly been practicing this every morning during breakfast and she knew what she was supposed to do. Very carefully, she held the hem of her skirt and executed her curtsy.

Charlie beamed. His little girl was starting to grow up. If he were very lucky, he would see that curtsy many more times.

Elizabeth called the child to her. "Emily, you are two now, and two year olds are starting to grow up. So tell us, which do you want first –– your dinner or your presents?"

Emily looked at every face in the room. All of which were desperate to hide grins. She looked to her Papa and sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "Dinnew."

Rebecca was also beaming. Her little girl could think about others, something that was very important, in her opinion. "Well, little one, I think that perhaps our guests could wait for their dinner while you opened one present." Just then, a suspicious little yip was heard from the basket Duncan was holding.

Rebecca turned her head very slowly in Duncan's direction. "Is there something you want to tell us about your basket, Sergeant Nailer?"

"Um, yes, m..m..ma’am. Miss Em, the b..boys found this little g..girl and we thought you wo..would like her." The yipping had grown louder and just then a small head, white with black and brown markings, popped up out of the basket. "Tis a terrier, m……ma’am. A Jack Russell bitch."

Em clapped her hands together and looked to Rebecca for permission. When it was granted with a slight nod, Em joyfully ran across the room to Duncan and her new puppy.

Charlie looked on as Emily clasped the squirming puppy to her chest. "Upstaged by my own men –– again!"

--*--

Monday, February 20, 1865

The weekend had been unremarkable in most ways, other than the challenges presented by trying to house break a puppy and teach a two year old what was and was not appropriate behavior with said animal. Charlie woke early, as normal, and took a morning run in a fine, cold misty rain. Winter was not quite ready to release its hold.

He returned to the house, cleaned up and settled into his office to read the normal dispatches. There on top of the pile of documents that were a normal part of his life was a telegram.

A sense of dread clutched at his stomach. Telegrams usually meant bad news. He sat for a good five minutes with the envelope in his hand, hesitating to open it, knowing what was probably in it.

Finally, he read the dreaded but not unexpected words.

Prepare to mobilize stop Troops to be field ready within seven days stop Sheridan

The flimsy yellow paper drifted from Charlie’s numb fingers. It was time. He sat there in a stupor, for how long, he had no idea. Then the door opened and Rebecca came in with the mid-morning tea.

She stopped as soon as she saw the look on his face; approaching him slowly she placed the tray on the desk. "It is bad news."

Silently, he picked up the telegraph and handed it to her.

Her hands were trembling as she took the paper from him, tears forming in her eyes before she had even read the first line.

Chapter 30

Monday, February 20, 1865

Rebecca and Charlie finally shook themselves and set about the immediate tasks before them.

Rebecca left to consult with Reg, Beulah and Sarah. She had to see to her household, making sure she had the supplies, medicines and equipment she would need once the men and the facilities they provided were gone. She knew Charlie would be leaving a contingent of men behind in Culpeper. Some of the men remaining were mustering out because their terms were completed and they had chosen to make Culpeper their home. Others would be left behind to man a key communications center on the always-vital rail line. Housing would have to be found for the new residents as well as quarters for the small detachment remaining behind.

Meanwhile, Charlie sat at his desk and started drafting orders for his men. The daily lunch meeting of officers would be interesting, to say the least, as he would be asking one company commanders to volunteer to stay behind.

Charlie walked into the Officers’ Mess tent and took his place at the head of the table. As usual, the officers were chatting amongst themselves as troopers served lunch under Jamison’s watchful eye. When Charlie joined them for lunch, he usually sat, was served and ate with them, then carried on whatever discussion he wanted to have after the meal was over. Today was different. He stood, silent, at his place at the long table until he had the attention of every man there.

"Gentlemen, we have received orders. We are to be ready to march within one week."

A rumble of sound went around the table, some grumbling, and some eager to be back in the field. Young Avery of Company I spoke up first. "General, do you know where we are bound?"

"No, not yet. I do know we will be heading south, but beyond that, no. General Sheridan always keeps his plans close to his vest. So we go where we are told, when we are told –– as usual." Charlie stopped for a minute. "However, one company is not going to be joining us. We have been ordered to leave a detachment here in Culpeper to guard the railhead from marauders and maintain communications. It is inevitable there will be a number of deserters –– we are already starting to see it happen –– and we will need guards here to maintain civil order as they start to return to their homes, or what is left of them. They will be hungry, probably angry and desperate. It will not be easy service."

Dewees of Company C, eager to prove his company’s loyalty after the problems with Montgomery, spoke up first. "But, Sir, if one company is left behind, they will not be there to participate in the glorious finale."

Charlie raised his eyebrow at Dewees. "Captain, I hardly think the finale, as you call it, will be glorious. General Grant has held General Lee’s forces pinned in Richmond and Petersburg for over two months. We know the siege has been at least partially effective, as we continue to cut their supply lines. Going against men who are half starved, short on clothing, supplies, food, and ammunition is hardly glorious. It is simply the inevitable end to this miserable war. Be at ease, Captain Dewees. Your company won the right to stand as vanguard at the gymkhana; I will not reverse that status now. But put out of your mind that the coming battles will be glorious. They will be anything but."

"Gentlemen, it is my thought we will want to cull a company from among all of your men –– choosing those men who are technically fit for light duty, but whose injuries have not completely healed or have left them with some limitations. In addition, I would like to cull out those men whose terms of service have expired, muster them out if they wish and provide them with the means to either return home or settle here in the Culpeper area." A buzz went around the room. A number of the men from the original Pennsylvania troops were still feeling the effects of their injuries. But not one of them was ready to voluntarily excuse themselves from these last days of the war.

"I will need a volunteer to remain behind and command our communications detachment." Charlie waited a moment. No one jumped up to volunteer. "Then discuss it amongst yourselves. If no one volunteers, we will draw straws tomorrow at lunch." He turned to Captain Dewees. "You, sir, because of the special circumstances with Company C, will be excluded from the draw, if you wish." The other company commanders nodded their heads in agreement.

"Until then, I expect each of you to initiate immediate mobilization efforts. Tear down any temporary structures, clean up any areas, fill the latrines, et cetera. Colonel Polk and I will develop any special orders as we progress. For now, start your men getting their own equipment in order."

Charlie then sat down and ate, between fielding a wide variety of questions as the conversation turned on the massive logistics of remobilizing the regiment.

After lunch, Charlie and Polk retired to his office to write the detailed mobilization orders. All afternoon, a constant stream of officers and key men filed in and out of the office, as plans for supplies, foodstuffs, horse management and equipment transportation were discussed and finalized.

Elizabeth, accompanied by Samuelson and Whitman, was one of the last staff members to be consulted. Charlie was concerned they would end up trying to fight a running series of skirmishes, rather than fixed battles. Designing a way to treat injured men when the regiment was on the move was a major challenge. They worked through dinner, which was brought in on trays, to find a way that, while not exactly satisfactory, was at least viable.

--*--

Charlie dragged himself to bed that night exhausted. The lamps were dimmed, no candles were lit and the house was silent. It seemed everyone else had finally fallen into bed and sleep called him like a siren.

He quietly entered Rebecca’s private sitting room and stripped his clothes, hoping to grab his nightshirt and slip quietly into bed and her sleeping warmth.

He found Rebecca waiting for him in bed, holding his pillow to her chest, crying quietly.

"Darling, what is it? Why did you wait up for me? It is so late, darling, and you need your sleep."

"I cannot sleep. I am too worried about your leaving and what will happen then."

"Darling, please, do not do this to yourself. I am leaving men here to take care of the place and to help Mayor Frazier keep order in town in case deserters start coming through. I will take the utmost care of myself. As things are going, I will be home before you know it, a month or two at the most, if General Grant’s siege works as expected. The war cannot last much longer." Charlie took her in his arms and gently soothed her back and shoulders as she spoke.

"I am your wife and I love you. How can you ask me not to worry?" Rebecca smiled, gently running her hand over his chest. "I only want you home."

"Can I tell you a secret?" He nuzzled her hair.

"Of course you can. You can tell me anything. I hope you know that."

"I really wish I could stay behind and send Richard off to the front. I am so tired of war, and want so much to begin our life here together properly." Charlie sighed, "Unfortunately, I believe I have to complete my commitment to the Union and the Army. It is very hard for me to leave you, darling –– but you are an amazing incentive to come back as quickly as I can."

"I know, but it still does not keep me from worrying about you. For the first time in my life, I have found love and I do not want it to end. I realize you have commitments, but that does not make the fear and the pain of your departure any less."

"Nor does it make my task any easier, when my leaving is the last thing either of us wants. But I must, dear. Please understand why." Charlie laid his head on her shoulder and softly kissed her neck, offering comfort and taking it at the same time.

"I do understand. I truly do. I just cannot help but feel my heart is breaking for fear I will lose you. The only person I have ever loved passionately, the way I love you. Sometimes I think this is all so new to you, that you do not understand what will happen to my heart if you are killed." She paused, curling closer to him. "It will die with you, Charlie."

Charlie froze. The image in his mind of her life without him overlaid the image of his without her and he knew the truth of what she spoke. "Then I suppose I just cannot let myself get killed. We have a daughter and another child on the way who just would not understand if their mother’s heart died before its time."

"No, you had better not. I want you home; Em wants you home and by the time you return there will be a new life for you to meet." She sighed and closed her eyes. "But do not be angry with me for doing what my heart tells me to do, which is worry."

"I cannot control that anyway, my love. I have learned I have as much ability to change the way you feel as I do to control the weather, so I shall not try. But," Charlie nibbled on her earlobe. "I can try and distract you for a bit."

"Charlie, stop!" She pulled back and tried to make him understand. "Not everything can be made better by making love and right now I need you to hold me more than I need to make love."

Charlie was immediately contrite. He pulled back, shifted and took her in his arms, her head lying on his chest. She could not see the bleak look in his eyes. His fears and worries were just as great as hers, if not greater, as he knew just what kind of risks he was facing. Desperate men made dangerous enemies. Charlie’s demon just laughed.

--*--

Tuesday, February 21, 1865

Charlie had just finished his morning run and was having his first cup of coffee when he heard a light tap on his office door.

"Come." Whoever was knocking this early must have something important to say –– and private.

"Major Timothy Byrnes, Commander, Company F, requests permission to speak frankly, Sir."

"Have a seat, Byrnes. Since when have you had to stand on formality with me?"

Byrnes grinned ruefully, then unconsciously rubbed his thigh. Since he had taken a Miniéé ball in his leg the previous summer, he had developed the nervous habit. "Well, sir, I think anyone actually volunteering to remain behind may be faced with a problem. These boys have a certain…… enthusiasm for seeing an end to the war and getting home. I think a lot of them can taste it, if you know what I mean? If a man volunteers, he might be seen as a slacker –– or even a coward."

Charlie shook his head and snorted. "I have been at war for so long and wanted to have peace so badly I honestly never thought of that. I knew Dewees was eager, but given the problems we had earlier, it is understandable."

Byrnes raised his eyebrow. "Aye, he is a bit, Sir. I think he has the makings of a good commander, but under Monty he had very little opportunity to develop. Keep an eye on him, he may do something rash out there in the vanguard."

Charlie nodded. "However, I suspect you did not come here to talk about Company C’s young commander. How can I help you?"

"Well, sir, I think I might just want to stay behind. I have a good second who is entirely ready to take command and, to be honest, this leg is just plain bothering me. I have met some of the folks in town and seem to get on well with them. And I have the right experience. I was the local sheriff in Bucks County before the war began."

"So you would like me to arrange it so the men do not know you have volunteered, but you are actually volunteering?"

"That is about the sum of it, Sir. I think I could do a good job. And, um, Sir?"

"Yes, Byrnes?"

"I will make sure Mrs. Redmond’s letters get through to you in the priority dispatch bags." Byrnes grinned at Charlie. It was not strictly by the book, in fact, it was specifically forbidden to put civilian correspondence into the priority military dispatches, but Byrnes was one of those who thought Rebecca was a good influence on his spit and polish General.

Charlie called a meeting of all his officers that morning. The announcement was simple. "I recognize that every man of you, as well as every man you command, is dedicated to ending this conflict. Being asked to remain behind is a hardship, one that is necessary, but even so, a hardship. I thought long and hard last night, and reviewed the records and condition of every man in this regiment. My decision has been made strictly on the records of the individuals, their enlistment status, and their physical condition. Major Byrnes will lead the garrison here. He has been selected because of his civilian experience and because he has not fully recovered from the injuries he sustained this summer. Here are two lists. One is of men who will be assigned to the garrison in Culpeper. The other is the list of men who will be mustered out because the term of their enlistment has expired. Quartermaster, please handle the muster out pay and make arrangements for transportation for any who wish to return home. Major Byrnes, please take command of your garrison."

A roar of comments greeted his announcement. Charlie just smiled and sorted through all of the questions. One more thing had been accomplished –– a safe garrison for Culpeper.

--*--

Wednesday, February 22, 1865

Rebecca watched from the back porch as the men continued their task of dismantling the camp. She pulled her cloak tighter over her shoulders to ward off the evening chill.

Charlie had been dreadfully busy since the orders had come down to get ready to move. He was up and out even earlier than usual and in much later than normal. Rebecca hated every moment of it. She held her tongue however, knowing this was just as hard on Charlie. Not only was he leaving home, but he was about to lead his men into what they believed would be the worst of the battles.

She tried to remain cheerful but with every moment she felt slipping through her fingers, her mood turned darker. She continued to watch as more tents were struck down and the men worked to roll and secure them.

In the distance she could see Charlie on Jack, riding through the camp giving orders and ensuring that everything was done properly. She resisted the urge to call to him and ask him to come in. She finally had a bit of an idea of what it was like to be the wife of a military officer. In a way she did envy the others, because they tended to travel with their husbands and she would not be able to do so. But, even they did not travel into battle with their spouses.

She turned and went back into the house to find Em and Tess there to greet her. "And how is my little darling tonight?" She knelt down and hugged the child, holding her close and envisioning her future with Charlie, raising his little ‘‘imp’.

"Hungwy."

"I was going to give her a little bread and honey before bed, Miss Rebecca."

Rebecca smiled at the nanny who adored Em and catered to her every whim. "Thank you, Tess, but I will take care of her. You can take the rest of the evening off."

"Thank you, Miss Rebecca," Tess gave a quick nod and left the room.

Rebecca and Em continued to the kitchen where Em was placed in her own chair, while Rebecca busied herself with fixing the child an early evening snack. She settled down at the table with Em to drink a cup of tea while Em tried her best to devour a piece of bread covered in honey.

"I hope your Papa does not come in while you are a gooey mess, he will never forgive me." She sipped her tea. "Of course with the smell of horses and sweat clinging to him he may not notice."

Rebecca sighed while she watched Em cram her mouth full of the sweet concoction. Elizabeth entered quietly to join them.

"You make a wonderful mother, Rebecca. She has flowered under your care, you know."

"Well, considering the situation, she does seem to be very happy. I am glad to be a part of that, but I am concerned about what will happen when ‘‘you know who’ has to l-e-a-v-e." They had taken to spelling the word around Em because saying it out loud sent her into crying fits.

"To be perfectly honest, I am almost more concerned over how she will handle it when Constance..." Elizabeth looked at Rebecca with a helpless shrug, unable to keep the sadness from her eyes.

Rebecca rose and poured her friend a cup of tea, placing it on the table as a silent request for her to sit. Then she retook her seat. "You know, she seems to understand. She knows it will happen and she seems to have accepted it."

"I do not envy your position here when we move on, dear. It will not be easy. I have spoken with Mrs. White and she understands what needs to be done, but it will still be very hard."

Rebecca nodded, trying to keep tears from her eyes. "I am doing my best to……" she shook her head and reached out for Elizabeth’s hand. "Thank you. Thank you for everything. I feel I have gained more than a friend. I feel as though I have gained a sister."

Elizabeth looked out of the window to the rolling meadowlands, the little pond, and the shadows of the mountains to the west and sighed. For once, she spoke her heart, a rare thing for this stoic woman. "I know I have found a sister in you, my dear - and somehow, perhaps even a home, something I have not had for a long time. I will miss you deeply."

"Then know you have a place here anytime you desire it. I would be delighted if you chose to come back here after the war." Rebecca tried to lighten the mood with an evil little grin. "We can work together to make Mrs. Williams as uncomfortable as possible. I will teach you the fine art of malicious taunting unsuspecting bigots."

Elizabeth broke out into raucous laughter. "Just for that, I might have to find a colored assistant and make her really uncomfortable." She hesitated for a moment. "Did you really mean it when you said I could be married from your house?"

"Of course I did, my dear. However, I think Charlie will run to the hills. Being around women planning a wedding is too much for him, I think. I would be delighted if you and Richard were married here."

"Then, this is not a permanent farewell, dear. I promise I will be back, and I will bring both of those two recalcitrant fellows with me."

"You know, I am worried for all of you, but with your promise, some of my concern is lessened. Thank you."

--*--

Rebecca was tucking Em in, and making sure the pup was also nested in the pile of blankets by the fire. Em rolled over in her bed and watched as Rebecca checked the fire. "Mama?"

The call surprised Rebecca, simply by the fact it did not have ‘‘Becca’ attached to it. She turned, moving next to Em’s bed and sitting on the floor so she could be eye to eye with the girl. "Yes, my little darling?"

"Papa?"

"Oh, Papa is working." She brushed her fingers through Em’s dark hair once again marveling at the fact that it was the same color and texture as Charlie’s.

"Papa leaving?"

"Yes, Papa must go away for a while but he will come home. He has promised us."

A little chin quivered, "Not Em."

"Oh, sweetheart. Would you like Papa to promise you too?"

"Pwease."

"All right, you wait here and I will go get Papa. We will be right back."

Rebecca decided it was time to have Charlie come in. His men were grown and quite independent of him, but his daughter needed him.

Just as she stepped out on the back porch to try and find him she saw him coming up the steps. "Just the Papa I need to see."

Charlie bent and softly kissed Rebecca's cheek, "Yes, darling? So what does Mamma require of Papa?"

"It is not so much what Mama requires, as what Emily needs."

Charlie put his arm around Rebecca's shoulder as the two walked into the house and up the stairs. "What does the little one need, love? You know I will do whatever I can."

"She wants you to promise her you will come home."

"I will promise to do everything in my power to come home as quickly as I can."

"Then let us go so you can do that or she will not sleep tonight."

They went upstairs to Em’s room. When they opened the door they caught a glimpse of a tiny body running across the room to jump into bed. There was one very confused puppy by the fireplace.

Charlie looked from the puppy to the little girl. "Hmmm. Seems somebody was out of bed when she was not supposed to be. Were you cuddling your puppy, little one?"

Em looked to the puppy, then cast her eyes down, "Yes, Papa."

Charlie walked over and sat on the side of the bed, taking the child in his arms. "Well, little one, if you need cuddles, you only have to ask me or Mama."

Em settled immediately into his arms, "Papa leave?"

"Yes, honey, Papa has to work, and my work makes me leave sometimes. But I will come back, I promise."

Em sighed, cuddling closer. "I miss Papa."

Charlie held the little girl very close. "And Papa misses you when I go away, too. But you have Mama and your puppy and friends like Jeremiah and Tess to keep you company when I am gone."

"Yes, Papa." She said it, but it was clear she did not mean it.

"And I will write Mama all the time and I promise, each letter will have a message for you."

"Yes, Papa." She curled even deeper and yawned. Clearly Charlie held one very tired little girl in his arms.

"Ready for sleep, little one?"

She only nodded, taking a death grip on his tunic. "Sweepy."

"Then into bed with you. You need to let go of Papa's coat."

"Hold." She yawned again, her eyes falling shut, but her grip remained tight.

Charlie looked at Rebecca, beseeching her help with his expression. As he had been talking with Em, the little puppy had crawled out of her bedding by the fire and was now lying over Charlie's boots. He was well and truly pinned.

Rebecca lifted the puppy to the bed and placed it next to Em’s spot then untangled the now nearly asleep girl from her Papa. She placed both child and puppy under the covers, leaning over to kiss Em on the forehead.

Charlie rose, leaned over and emulated Rebecca, then stepped back and put his arm around his wife as the two of them just watched their little girl for a few moments.

--*--

Charlie walked through camp, proud of the work than his men had accomplished. He made his way to the stables where he found Tarent cleaning the hooves of one of the auxiliary mounts. Charlie leaned against the fence and watched the man working with the great ease that came with tremendous skill.

"Sergeant," Charlie called when he could see the man was finished with the hoof he was working on.

"Aye, General. What can I be doing for you today?"

"I want to talk to you about the spring campaign. It is not going to be easy."

Tarent sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Charlie could hear the crackling of arthritic joints from several feet away. "Aye, I do not expect it will be. I have been training my boys hard; the horses are going to need the best tending."

"So they are, but I am more concerned about you. I mean no disrespect, but you are not a young man anymore."

"Ah, no, I am not, to be sure. But who is going to take a broken down old farrier but the Army?"

"Well, actually, I am prepared to offer you the position of barn manager here at Redmond Stables." Charlie looked at his mud caked boots and then back to his friend. "But it means you will have to muster out and stay behind to help Miss Rebecca get the place running."

Tarent looked at the shoe in his hand, carefully removing the old nails from it and stashing them in a pocket before he looked back at Charlie. "Muster out of the Army, eh. Well, Lord knows, I have done my time and more. I passed my thirty year mark last month."

"I know. And Miss Rebecca and I think you would be perfect for the job. I trust you to not only look after the farm, but Miss Rebecca as well. It is not going to be easy on her when we leave." He leaned on the fence and whispered. "I have already found her crying twice and I am at my wits’ end. I am hoping that by asking a few of my most trusted to muster out and stay behind, she will find some comfort while I am gone."

"Well, since you put it that way, General, how can I refuse? Do I get the cottage that goes with the farrier's lodge?"

"With all the holes in the roof to boot." Charlie offered his hand, "Thank you, Tarent."

Tarent took Charlie's hand in a strong grip. "My pleasure, sir. Oh, and in all the fixing up around here this winter, I had the boys put a new roof on it. Fireplace draws well, too." A laconic grin and the old man was off to his forge.

Charlie spent the rest of the day talking to various men about the same option; of the twenty he asked, seventeen took him up on his offer. As he scraped the mud from his boots before going into the house, he wished someone would ask him to muster out.

He removed his boots in the kitchen so as not to track the remaining mud through the house. Pulling on a pair of carpet slippers kept by the back door for situations such as this, he set off for his office to finish some paperwork before beginning the task of packing.

--*--

Around midnight, the door to his office opened and he looked up to find Rebecca standing there.

"Charlie?"

"Come in, darling. I am so sorry; it must be late. I lost track of time." She was in her nightdress and a robe. From the look of her eyes, she had been crying again. He rose from his desk, which was piled with various stacks of paper, and hurried over to take her in his arms.

"I……I want to give you something." She took his hand and laid her father’s watch in his palm. "Father always said this watch brought him luck. He was wearing it the day he met mother. I want you to take it with you."

Charlie gingerly took the heavy gold watch. "Dear heart, this is the only thing you have left of your father. Are you sure you want me to take it into battle with me?"

"I want you to take it into battle, then bring it home with you."

"Then I will use it to count the hours until I return to you, dearest." Charlie settled the watch into his vest pocket, then lifted Rebecca up in his arms and carried her over to the settee before the fire. He sat down with her still in his arms and held her close. "I love you, Rebecca Redmond."

Rebecca could not answer for fear the tears would start again. She just curled her hand against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder as she watched the flames.

--*--

Thursday, February 23, 1865

Duncan had thought his position as the General’s personal aide, won at the Christmas Gymkhana, was an honorary one. In the past four days, since the mobilization orders had been received, he had discovered it was far from honorary. It was, in fact, a massive task to be the General’s personal errand boy. General Charlie was keeping hellish hours, therefore so was Duncan.

There were really only a couple of people the shy young sergeant really wanted to bid goodbye before they went back on the road. One was Miss Rebecca, but he did not think he could find the courage to go seek out the General’s lovely and very kind wife. The other was young Jeremiah. They had spent many hours together fishing and getting to know one another. Jeremiah did not tease him about his stutter and found the various skills he did have to be fascinating. He had an old whittling knife he wanted to give the boy as a keepsake. Perhaps he would remember his Yankee friend kindly.

Finally, he asked the General if he could have a couple of hours to take care of personal business. Charlie looked up absentmindedly and nodded casual permission. Duncan found Jeremiah sitting up in the hayloft of the stone barn, where he could watch all of the activity without being in anyone’s way.

"Hey, Jeremiah. You got a few minutes?" Duncan had to shout to be heard over the hubbub in the nearby stables.

"Sure," The boy smiled and dropped from the loft to stand before his friend.

"Walk down to the creek? I wa..wa..want to visit the trout hole one more time."

"Sure! Wish we had time to drop a line."

"Me, too, lad. But when we are gone, you will have to do it yourself. Go..got to keep making your con..contribution to the table."

"I will, I promise. Still gonna be folks to feed."

"You make your ma proud of you, young Mister Carter. You help them out when we are gone, you hear? And if I h..hear you are being stuffy, why I will just have to come back and whup you."

"I promise, Duncan." The boy stopped, and looked down at his feet before taking a deep breath and looking back at his friend. "I hope you come back."

Duncan laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. "I hope I come back, too." They walked together in silence for a few steps. "D..d..do you th..think your ma would like me to come back, too?"

Jeremiah stared at Duncan for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose."

Duncan nodded his head and continued walking. They got to the fishing hole in companionable silence. "They are feeding today. The flies are starting to hatch. You want to just throw a line out?"

"No line."

"Got one right here." Duncan pulled a spool of line and a hook from his belt pouch.

"Duncan, we got no pole."

Duncan pulled the whittling knife from his pocket. "I figger you can trim one with this." He handed it to Jeremiah. "Keep it. It was my da’s and I would like you to have it."

Jeremiah looked at the knife in his hand and a large lump formed in his throat. "Dunc, I, ...Ma would skin me if I took your da's knife. You should save this for your son."

"Well, you know, I do not have a son. But I do have you, lad, and I know my da would be proud to have such a fine young man have his knife. Keep it for me. If you still want to, you can return it when I come back." And when I come back, if I come back, maybe Miss Samantha would not mind if I came calling.

"I promise to keep it safe, and good and sharp until you come back for it, Duncan."

"You do that, lad. Now, see if you can pull a fish or two in for dinner. I have to get back to the General." Yes, indeed, my da would be proud of a son like Jeremiah.

--*--

Saturday, February 25, 1865

Jocko was pawing through Charlie’s wardrobe, pulling out those articles of clothing he would need on the campaign, and leaving those items that were more appropriate to social events. Field uniforms, the tight britches and tunics he wore to work in, extra socks, and under things that were comfortable, warm and hid his gender were all being tightly packed. Jocko wanted to travel light. Charlie’s clothes were one of his primary responsibilities, both because that is what a batman did and because, in Charlie’s case, image was especially critical.

As he packed the well-worn leather satchels, Rebecca entered the room. "Good afternoon, Miss Rebecca," Jocko acknowledged her and continued on with his work.

"Good afternoon Jocko. Packing his things I see."

"Not everything, ma’am. This is his home now. Just the things he will need on the campaign."

Rebecca smiled. "Thank you." She took a seat on the bed and watched as he continued. "You know, Charlie is not the only one I am going to miss."

"Yes, ma’am. You and Dr. Walker have gotten to be quite close, I believe."

She chuckled, "Yes, I shall miss Elizabeth, but she is not the subject of this conversation."

"Oh, ma’am?" Jocko was busy being the very appropriate sergeant and batman. Why, if he admitted to being attached to anyone, he might just have to settle down. Mrs. White had already done more than enough of making him suspect he was fated to do so after the war was over.

"Yes, Jocko. I shall miss you very much too. If I were you, I would be a little more careful about teasing Charlie about his membership in the clan O'Blivious."

"No, ma'am, I am not normally a member of that illustrious family, but there are times when it is far more comfortable to pretend to be." He looked at her and grinned, "Anyway, if Mrs. White has her way, I will be back."

"I think if my husband has his way, you will be back. He seems to have plans for the reconstruction of Culpeper and I believe you are key to those plans."

"Then, ma’am, I suppose between you, Gen’l C and Mrs. White, I have no other options available, unless I choose to fling myself in front of some rebel sword." He pantomimed careful thought, grinning like a monkey. "No, no options there. I suppose I will be back."

"I am delighted to hear it. Please make sure to bring my husband with you."

"I shall do my best, ma’am, but you know Gen’l Charlie. Once he gets his mind set on something, there is very little that will turn him. Now that you mention it, I believe his objective is to come back."

--*--

Charlie had a quiet word with Sarah that afternoon, asking her to prepare a special dinner for Miss Rebecca, and serve it to them in the little parlor that was her favorite room –– a quiet dinner for just the two of them. Some early daffodils had snuck their heads up in some of the more sheltered areas of the farm; Charlie had picked them and a bowl of sunshine yellow flowers graced the mantle.

Charlie escorted Rebecca into the room, where their dinner was already laid out and covered to keep it warm. "My darling, I hope you like this. I wanted some time for just the two of us tonight."

"Of course, this is perfect, Charlie."

Charlie lifted a bottle of champagne from the cooler and opened it. "I saved this from our wedding for a special night together. There is another in the cellar for when I return, my love."

She smiled, managing to hold back the tears that seemed to be living in her eyes and she took the offered glass. "You think of everything."

"I try, my dear wife. As I think I told you, I believe if I plan for every contingency, even the worst, then I can usually avoid it. This is just my way of trying to show you I am doing everything possible to come home soon."

"I know you are. I know you want that as much as I do." She settled at the table. "You know how you have spent all your life learning to be a man?"

"Yes, love?" Charlie was confused. What his assumed role had to do with this evening and the upcoming separation was beyond him.

"Well, I spent my entire life learning to be a woman; a woman who is taught to worry and fret and who is left behind to pray everything will be all right. We are expected to tend home and hearth and raise children. You have given me so much more. You have made me feel like your partner, your equal. I feel, with you, I can do anything. I am not limited to the traditional roles. If I lose you, I lose that. I cannot stand the thought of being without you and I am terrified of being 'put back in my place'. So you see, Charlie, you not only own my heart, but you have given me more than any man ever could and I want you home so we can continue to grow and discover what is available to us." She smiled, "Who knows, maybe I will take up medicine as Elizabeth has."

"Then, my love, for your future, our children’s future, and my own, I clearly must return. In leaving, I leave you my heart and soul. I hope you know that." Charlie took a sip of his champagne. "I also hope you know I have left you sufficiently financially secure so you and the children will never have to worry about subjecting yourselves to someone else’s control. There is enough money there for you to go to medical school if you wish, and for both children to be well educated."

She smiled and sipped her champagne. "Yes, which is what I expect of you. I could not care less about money, Charlie. All of it does not matter without you."

Charlie lifted the champagne glass out of Rebecca’s hand and took her in his arms. "Then, dear heart, I will come back. I am only half alive without you; so I will do my utmost to return as quickly as I can. I love you." Charlie was a little lost. She talked about what he provided her life. Yet in answering with the explanation of how he had tried to ensure freedom for her, it was brushed aside. But he did understand one thing. He needed her and, somehow, she needed him. It was all that mattered to him at this point. If he could get through the coming months, maybe he would come to understand the rest of what she was trying to tell him.

--*--

Monday, February 27, 1865

The orders to march arrived via telegraph. At first light on Tuesday, the 13th Pennsylvania Cavalry was to break camp and march for Rockfish Gap, the central passage from Virginia’s breadbasket in the Shenandoah Valley to the east.

That evening, Charlie hosted a farewell dinner with all of his company officers and the leading families of the community. It was a critical meeting, for that evening, Major Byrnes, formerly commander of Company F, was officially taking charge of the military-civilian liaison for Culpeper County. Byrnes and Mayor Frazier found they had several things in common, not the least of which was a love of chess. The two men had spent a number of hours together over the past several days and not all of the time was spent planning for the upcoming changes.

Rebecca was there in the role of hostess –– her first adventure as a true field officer’s wife –– and hopefully her last. The leading families of Culpeper were in attendance as well. Reverend Williams insisted on attending so he might bless the troops, a concept that mortally offended his wife. The Coopers and several others joined the rather subdued dinner.

The dinner progressed with minimal stress. Mrs. Williams only snarled a few times, until it came time for Reverend Williams to offer the benediction.

Mrs. Williams refused to look at her husband during his blessing. Instead she locked eyes with Rebecca and they both remained that way until Charlie took Rebecca's hand and whispered in her ear. "Down, girl."

She just smiled at Charlie and sighed, "Yes, dear."

"Just think, darling, what her future holds in store for her. Why, I can just imagine what inventive punishments the devil has available for those like her. Do you think that using her tongue to strop razors would be a good start?"

"That is almost too good for her. I personally hope every Yankee who needs a home will decide to settle in Culpeper."

"Do you think we could redo her living room with Yankee carpetbags? Sort of a patchwork effect?"

"I do believe it is the least we could do." She smiled and took his hand.

Charlie tightened his grip on her hand. "By the way, the quilt from the ladies is lovely. What a thoughtful gift. I am quite sure you had a hand in it."

"Actually, I did not. I knew they were planning something for you, but I had no idea. It was very sweet of them to give you something to make sure you stay warm."

"My love, I will never be completely warm until I am back with you." At that point, the polite conversation and thanks that had followed the minister’s words trailed off and Charlie and Rebecca were called upon to bid their guests good night. Charlie patiently stood as all of the Culpeper residents save one wished him farewell.

Finally, the last guest left. Charlie turned to Rebecca. "I have been both dreading and anticipating this moment. I hate saying goodbye to you, but the only thing I could think of all evening was being alone with you."

"Then I suggest we go to our room, so we can be alone."

"After you, Mrs. Redmond." Charlie escorted her up the stairs with all due formality.

--*--

Charlie held Rebecca close in her arms, their hearts pounding in rhythm with one another, their bodies damp, boneless and sated. All Charlie could do was murmur over and over, "My love, my love."

Rebecca shifted, getting as close to Charlie as she could. "I love you, Charlie. So very much."

"I love you, Rebecca. You are my heart, my reason for living."

"I doubt I will sleep tonight. I want to spent every moment we have..." she stopped and buried her nose in Charlie's neck. "I want to remember everything."

Charlie smiled. She knew exactly what Rebecca meant. "Ah, darling. I believe I have memorized every single mole, freckle and dimple on your body. The smell of your soap; the color of your hair in the sun, in firelight, in moonlight; the texture of your lips; the skin at the hollow of your throat. I hold you in my memory. Each smile and laugh and kiss is a jewel I can hold in my heart."

--*--

Tuesday, February 28, 1865

Dawn brought sleet and freezing rain. The men, grumbling, pulled themselves out of their warm cots and efficiently packed up their last few personal belongings. Rebecca woke to the clash and call of men pulling down tents and loading wagons with poles and rolls of canvas.

A small head poked up over the edge of the bed, "Mama? Papa? Cuddles?"

Rebecca smiled and moved to lift Em into bed with her. "Good morning, my little darling. I will be happy to give you cuddles, but Papa is already up and out with the soldiers."

Em’s face fell, "No Papa? He pwomised."

"Emily, listen very carefully to Mama. Today, Papa has to leave and it is very important that we are strong for him and make him proud of us. Papa does not want to leave but he must. So we must be strong."

"Em not stwong." The little girl shook her head sadly, "Em little."

"Emily, you are a big girl of two now and Papa needs us to support him. He does not want to go away, but he has orders. He will be coming home soon. So this morning, when it is time to say goodbye, we have to make Papa proud."

"Yes, Mama. Em be good." The toddler sucked on her finger for a minute, then looked back up at Rebecca, "Mama cuddles?"

--*--

By eight o’clock the sleet had settled into a steady freezing rain. Charlie was huddled in his greatcoat, his oilskin slouch hat on his head, a warm woolen muffler wrapped around his neck, and an entire regiment of rather grumpy men ready to march on his orders within the half hour. He left the final bits and pieces to the company commanders, and rode back to the house for a private farewell.

Rebecca was in the parlor waiting. Em was dressed in her best dress and sitting like a little lady on the davenport.

Charlie stepped in and stopped at the door, surveying the scene before him. Somehow the two of them managed to capture the grace and elegance of the time before the war, until he looked into their eyes. Both were fighting to keep the tears from falling. Charlie stepped farther into the room then opened his arms.

Em immediately squirmed off the davenport and flew into his arms. "Papa!"

Charlie swept the child up into his arms and held her close. "My little girl. Will you be good while I am gone and help Mama Becca? I will be home just as soon as I possibly can. I love you, Em."

"Yes, Papa." The child could no longer hold her tears, "Love Papa."

Charlie dug in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Jocko had known he would need it and conveniently stashed a spare in his greatcoat pocket. "Now, no crying. I will be home as soon as I can. I love you, little one."

Rebecca stepped forward and took Em into her arms. Then she hugged Charlie tight. "I love you. Come home soon."

Charlie wrapped his arms around them both. "God willing, my darlings, God willing I will be back as soon as I can."

Chapter 31

Tuesday, February 28, 1865

The day had been hard and long. Since they had wintered in Culpeper, no one in the entire regiment was used to being in the saddle all day long. The cold rain and sleet, and the mud that mired horses’ feet and wagon wheels just contributed to the misery. At the end of the day, after seeing to all of the myriad niggling issues that were part of making camp, Charlie finally sat down in his tent. A single oil lamp, hung haphazardly on the center pole, provided a flickering light. Jocko had unrolled his bedroll on the folding cot. There, in the middle of the bedroll, was an envelope addressed to Charlie in very familiar script.

Monday, February 27, 1865

Dearest Husband,

I am writing this letter even as I watch you slumber just a few feet away. Right now, at this very moment it does not seem as if there is anything that can hurt us. However, I know that in just a few short days that will change.

I can still feel your touch from our lovemaking tonight. I savor it, Dearest, and will let the memory wash over me to keep me warm and safe when you are far from home.

You know I will worry, but I will try not to do it every moment of every day. I do not know how to express the abundance of emotions that I am feeling.

I am scared, of course, but there is also a great deal of pride for you. That you would see this through so gallantly and stand fast until the end, yes I am very proud of you.

I believe the thing that concerns me the most is that we have no way of knowing how long you will be away. Will it be a few weeks or many months?

Just know, in your heart, that however long it must be, I will be here, waiting and praying.

I love you Charlie, please know that. I love you, all of you, and I want you to come home.

Eternally yours,

Rebecca

Charlie immediately sat down and, balancing his lapboard across his knees, wrote his response, trying to keep the ache of missing Rebecca from his letter, with only marginal success.

Tuesday, February 28, 1865

Dearest Wife,

Oh, how joyously I write the above words. Wife. I never thought I would have a partner in all of the love and joys, trials and sorrows, challenges, defeats and victories of life. Then you came into my life and changed it in more ways than I will ever be able to express to you.

Finding your letter in my bedroll was such a gift. It is as if a little bit of you is here with me, and I have placed your letter next to my heart.

This first day of travel has been about as miserable as any I can remember. The complaints from the men are legion! I doubt there is a single dry anything in this camp, yet there is a strange energy among the men. I think that, like me, they feel the end is in sight, for better or worse. At this point, an ending –– any ending –– will be greeted with great thanksgiving.

We travel south, along the rail lines until we can turn west. It is no secret that General Grant has General Lee’s forces surrounded with a three-prong pincer. I believe the way the war ends will hinge on the supply lines –– as General Meigs so aptly reminded me, an army moves on its belly, and the siege of Richmond and Petersburg has seriously limited the South’s ability to feed its troops.

I have to say, my loyal cavalrymen are less than thrilled at the idea of guarding rail lines. The more glory-hungry boys want to be part of the great charges that only cavalry can pull off. I am perfectly happy to be on this duty, though, as the risks are fewer, and I hate having to write the sorrowful letters to the bereaved families those glorious, foolhardy charges tend to engender.

So rest easy, my love. We are up to our hocks in mud, but are basically on reasonably safe ground in terms of how we are being deployed.

My love and kisses to our little imp. Please write and let me know each wonderful thing little Em learns. I know this is a time when she will grow up quickly. I am sorry I will not be there to see her in the coming weeks. Has she settled on a name for the little monster called a dog that Duncan and the boys gave her?

All my love, my heart and soul, to you my dear. I will dream of your head on my shoulder tonight and every night until I am back beside you.

Your Charlie

--*--

Thursday, March 2, 1865

Charlie’s regiment moved with great urgency. Sheridan was determined to prevent Early’s troops from crossing over Rockfish Gap and supplying Lee’s beleaguered forces. Charlie’s orders were to defend Rockfish Gap at all costs. As his forces arrived at the eastern end of that easy passage over the Blue Ridge mountains, couriers and telegrams started arriving, reporting that Custer had successfully engaged Early. Instead of riding into battle, Charlie’s troops spent a very tense day scanning for escaping rebel soldiers. When Charlie returned to his quarters that night, a letter from home was waiting in his non-urgent dispatch case.

Wednesday, March 1, 1865

Dearest Charlie,

Things progress here as you might expect. A few of the men that you mustered out have decided to stay on and help me get the crops in and we are currently deciding what would best be put where, when the time comes.

I must say that I am surprised they come to me for my thoughts. They seem to understand I am, until your return my darling, the head of this household. Of course, I do believe that Tarent keeps them in line as well.

Em misses you terribly and I have had my hands full trying to make her understand that you will be home. It is not unusual for me to find her plastered to the window in the front parlor. We try to keep her occupied, but she is easily distracted when her thoughts return to her Papa.

Constance is not improving at all, but at this moment she is still holding her own. The baby certainly seems healthy enough as it moves around almost continuously.

I went into town the other day for a few supplies. It had been raining as if the Good Lord was bringing another flood. To this end the roads were a complete mess, filled with water and mud. As I was going into the mercantile, Mr. Cooper was getting a shipment of supplies. (He said to thank you for assisting him in that endeavor as well.) Two very sturdy young men were unloading a crate from the wagon when it slipped and splashed down in a large mud puddle. Guess who was standing near the puddle? I swear Charlie; it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. I have never seen Mrs. Williams turn that particular shade of blue. It was truly amazing.

I miss you so and the place seems empty without you and your troops around.

Please give my best to Richard and the others and give Elizabeth a hug for me, as I miss her like a sister.

Eternally yours,

Rebecca

He immediately sat down and composed a response. These letters were a lifeline to him, he had discovered.

Thursday, March 2, 1865

Darling Wife,

The rain, sleet and mud continue here as well. I begin to believe that all wars are fought against the weather, as well as against the opposition, whoever they may be. I am sure Mrs. Williams managed to inform the clumsy young man of every failing he had ever had. Ah, the sweet wine of charity does not run in that woman’s veins, does it?

We reached Charlottesville with no major problems other than a couple of mired wagons. The men unloaded everything, and with horses pulling and men pushing, we managed to free them from the mire. Then, of course we had to reload them until the next muddy bottom trapped the wheels again.

Upon reaching Charlottesville, we turned west, toward Rockfish Gap. Before we could join with the rest of Sheridan’s forces over in the Shenandoah Valley, his troops encountered the remnants of Early’s forces. Custer’s cavalry surprised them in the early morning in Waynesboro. It was a rout. We took up guard positions on the eastern side of the Gap, but very few of Early’s forces got through. Most of the Confederate forces surrendered –– I have heard as many as fifteen hundred men. General Early and only a handful of men escaped. I suspect most of them headed south down the Valley toward Lynchburg.

We are to wait here until General Sheridan’s forces manage to get across the Gap, then we head east to join the western flank of General Grant’s forces.

I am sorry that the little imp is being such a bother. Tell her that Papa says she has to pay attention to her lessons, that I love her and am proud of her.

I pray daily that Constance can find the health she deserves, but if not, that she goes to her Henry with a full heart and a clear conscience. I know you and I will be the parents to her children she hopes we will be.

I love you, darling, and miss you and little Em more than I can tell you. Please keep me advised as to Constance’s condition. She looked so pale and frail when I left.

All my love, my heart, and soul to you.

Your Charlie

Eventually, all of Sheridan’s forces made it across the Gap. There was much milling and confusion as the troops reorganized, so Charlie had no time to write. Each night before he went to sleep, he pulled his little packet, carefully tied with one of Rebecca’s blue ribbons, from his pocket and read each letter in sequence. Some men prayed every night. Others drank. Charlie read his letters.

Elizabeth, who had been swamped with managing the complexities of mobile medical services, finally found a few minutes to herself on Saturday evening. She found Charlie sitting there, just holding his little package of letters between his hands and looking wistfully into the night sky. "You miss her?"

"You have to ask? I left my heart and soul back there, my friend. I can only pray that the rest of me can rejoin it when this is over."

"You will, Charlie, you will. Why else do you think they call you Lucky Charlie?"

--*--

Monday, March 6, 1865

The camp was packed and would move out at first light. Their objective was the great locks on the James River at Goochland Courthouse, which would cut yet another route to supply Lee’s forces. Without those locks, the Southern forces could not get boats or barges down river to provision the troops at Petersburg. It was an engineering problem, not a battle they were facing, and the cavalry would be used to guard against raiders to give the engineers time to complete their task. Rebecca’s letter was a welcome break from very routine action.

Saturday, March 4, 1865

Dearest Charlie,

I am sorry to hear the weather is causing so many problems for you. I wish this campaign could be an easy one. Or at least, I wish I were there to help.

I spoke with a lady the other day who is looking to possibly start a school here when the conflict has passed. She told me there are such things as 'camp wives' and she was one until her husband was killed at Antietam. You are very lucky I did not know that, or ……

I love you and miss you so much.

It was lovely to speak with her as she knew Andrew and had spoken with him just a day before his death. She said he was a delightful and charming young man who spoke proudly of Culpeper and his sister. That is why she has decided to come here.

Em has finally named the puppy, Papa. Sounds like our Em does it not? She is not crying as much now. Every night at prayers she remembers you, her mama, the puppy, and me, in that order.

I hope the weather clears for you soon and I hope you continue to draw the less dangerous duty. I cannot help it, my love. I want you home, safe and sound.

My love to Richard and the boys and a hug for Elizabeth.

Eternally yours,

Rebecca

--*--

Monday, March 6, 1865

Darling Wife,

Elizabeth and Richard stopped by my tent last night, so I had no opportunity to answer your letter as soon as I received it, as is my usual pattern. I conveyed your message to them, as well as tales of young Em and ‘‘Papa’.

I am not sure I am particularly happy about having the dog named after me, although perhaps the little bitch is more aptly named than Em knows. But if it keeps her from grieving at the window, I will suffer the animal to carry my moniker.

We move out this morning, headed east and south to block as many supply routes as possible. I will continue this letter when I have a moment.

Charlie hastily tucked the unfinished note into his traveling secretary, stuffed the leather folder into his saddlebag and mounted up. Finally, the rain had stopped, the only blessing in an otherwise miserable campaign.

--*--

Tuesday, March 7, 1865

Rebecca and Em where on the floor playing with a new carved horse Charlie had sent along with his last letter. Duncan had taken some spare time to whittle it, and the proud papa sent it along as soon as it was ready.

Em held the toy up for inspection. "Papa sent?"

"Yes, sweetheart, Papa sent you this toy."

"Miss Papa." She put the toy down on the floor gently, making it run across the floor in small movements. "Papa come home?"

"Papa will be home just as soon as he can. I promise."

The door opened into the parlor and Beulah entered. "Miss Rebecca?"

"Yes?"

"Ma'am, uh, there is a woman here, wanting to speak with General Charlie."

"I will tend to it. Can you take Em up for her nap?"

"Of course."

Rebecca got up from the floor, leaving Em in the care of the maid. She walked to the entry where she found a young woman with a carpetbag at her feet and a baby bundled in her arms. "May I help you?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I am looking for General Charles Redmond. I was told he had headquartered here."

"I am sorry. General Redmond and his men left a few weeks ago. I am his wife. How can I help you?"

"His wife! How could he?"

"It was only a matter of getting the minister to officiate. Now would you mind telling me why you are calling after my husband?"

The woman started crying. "But, but he promised... he told me that he would take care of me and our child... oh, how could he." She dissolved into loud wailing.

"Excuse me?" Rebecca tried to bite back a grin. She knew she was going to have to get to the bottom of this.

"Look. Look at this child. The hair, the eyes. This is Charlie's child. And I was to be his wife. And now, nothing, nowhere to go, no home..." The wailing got louder.

Rebecca managed to remove the infant from the woman. She had to admit it was a handsome child and, if Charlie had been capable of procreation, it could have been his. "Let us go to the parlor and discuss this shall we?"

As they walked toward the back parlor, the woman began a diatribe. "I cannot believe he has done this to us. He promised me. He told me he would take me away from the place I was in and give me a good life, care for our children, and build a home after the war. Then he just goes and throws it all away for you and, I suppose, for this place."

Rebecca settled down on the davenport, carefully looking over the child, who was not more than a month old. Its bright eyes tracked her every movement. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It is a boy, ma'am. I call him Charlie."

"I see, and you say my husband is his father? Where did this take place? I mean he is my husband. I have a right to know."

"We met in Washington at the home of a mutual friend. We saw one another frequently for over a month while he was there. Then when he was sent back into the field, I found that I could no longer stay with my friends in the city."

Rebecca looked at the woman and tried not to laugh in her face. "And you have come here because……" She left the rest of the question to be answered by her visitor.

"I have come here to find Charlie and to claim my rights and the rights of my child. He owes us. He owes his son a future and his son's mother a home."

Rebecca sighed. "Well, I will tell you what I know for a fact, Miss……?"

"My name is Hobart, Alison Hobart."

"Well, Miss Hobart. I will share with you that I know that Charles Redmond is not the father of this child. Now would you like to tell me why you have decided to lay the blame at his feet?"

"Mrs. Redmond, your husband is indeed the father of this child. Look at his hair, his eyes and tell me if you do not see your husband's features there."

"While this child does resemble General Redmond, it is but a newborn and newborns often look like many people. There is a little girl in this house right now who most certainly is not General Redmond's daughter, but to look at her you would never know that. My husband is blessed with classical features. Now, please tell me why you want to blame my husband for this?"

"Because your husband is an honorable man, who I am sure will care for his child and his child's mother."

"Yes, you are correct. He is an honorable man and I think it is terribly dishonorable of you to try and blame him for something he had nothing to do with. So did you work for Mrs. Armstrong? Is that how you came to have this child?"

The woman's self-righteous facade crumbled. "How... how do you know about Mrs. Armstrong?"

"Charlie told me about her. You see Miss Hobart, my husband and I have no secrets from each other. By the way, Miss Hobart, I know for a fact that Charlie was never intimate with any of Mrs. Armstrong's employees; that he only consorted with Mrs. Armstrong herself. So do you want to tell me the real story?"

The woman started crying genuinely, quiet tears of despair. "I got pregnant by one of my customers. Mrs. Armstrong let me go and I had nowhere to turn. I met General Redmond while I was at Mrs. Armstrong's and knew he was a kind, generous man. I hoped he would... not remember or take pity on us."

Rebecca looked down at the child who now had a tight grip on her finger. A son for Charlie. She looked up with a smile. "Miss Hobart, is it your child you are truly concerned for?"

"Yes, ma'am. I know I can fend for myself, one way or another. There is always a place for a woman if she is willing. But a woman with a baby is more than most men will take on. He is a good baby, never fussy. I just want him to have a good life, a better chance than I had."

"Then I will make you an offer which I think is more than fair."

"What kind of offer, ma'am?" The tears had dried and the woman had an almost predatory look.

"I will give you a sum that will allow you to travel to get a new start; New York or Philadelphia perhaps. You will leave this child with me. When General Redmond returns home, we will raise it as our own. You will never come back here. You will never make yourself known to this child."

Miss Hobart looked away. "How much?"

"I thought as much." Rebecca stood and rang for Beulah, who happened to be listening outside the door anyhow.

"Yes, Miss Rebecca?"

"Beulah, take this little one and see to it that he is bathed and properly dressed, and if he is in need of a meal ask Ginny to take care of him."

"Yes, Miss Rebecca, right away." Beulah lifted the little one into her arms, talking to him all the way out of the room.

Rebecca closed the doors and then took a seat at her desk where she removed the check book Charlie had left with her before he departed. She dipped her pen into the inkwell and sighed. "How much?"

"So, if I can ask, what makes a lady like you willing to buy a child just because it looks like your husband? Why do you not just have your own? Or are you too much of a prig to bed a man like the General?"

"I am merely trying to give this child a decent life so he will not have to grow up on the street, stealing to keep you satisfied. How much?"

"Oh, I think there is something more here, ma'am. I think we shall make this trip worth my time and energy. How does a thousand dollars sound to you? For just a thousand dollars, you get the heir that you evidently do not want to give the good General yourself."

Rebecca bit her lip and fought the urge to throw this whore out on her ear. She very carefully wrote the draft, removed it from the book and stood. She held it out. "This is all you get. It is my best guess that two hundred dollars will get you out of Virginia. Now get out of my house."

"Two hundred dollars. You cheap.... Give me back my son. He is surely worth more than that."

"Yes, I agree he is worth far more than that, and in time he will have all that he requires to grow up as a fine young gentleman. Now take this, and get out of my house, off my property and far away from Culpeper."

"You could at least make it five hundred –– that would give me plenty of money to set up in New York and I will never bother you from there."

Rebecca took a deep breath, walked to the young woman, pressed the draft into her hand and then escorted her to the door. She placed the carpetbag in the woman's hand and opened the door. "Will you leave or will I have to toss you out bodily? I am very capable of it and if I find I am not, I have a staff who will be more than willing to help."

"You will regret this, Mrs. High and Mighty Redmond. I promise. You will regret this."

"Madam, I have survived a war. I have many things I regret. I am sure this will not keep me awake at night."

After the woman had left, Rebecca closed the door and then leaned against it. When she looked up, she saw Tess, Beulah and Sarah standing at the end of the hall looking at her. "What?"

"Did ya toss her out, Miss Rebecca?" Tess asked from the corner.

"I did." Rebecca sighed and stared down the hall toward the women. "Not very Christian of me, was it?"

"We was about to go get Reg and have him come help you." Beulah met her employer half way down the hall.

"Where is the baby?"

"In the kitchen with Ginny."

"Well, let us go meet my son, shall we?"

--*--

Rebecca sat in her bedroom holding the baby close to her. Ginny had just finished with his feeding and Rebecca wanted to be Mama now. Em sat at her feet, peeking up to look at the squirming bundle.

"Baby?"

"Yes sweetheart, this is your brother." She brushed her fingers through Em's hair, wondering if she would be able to get the child to sit still for a trim tomorrow. "He needs a name. What shall we name this young man?"

"Baby."

Rebecca chuckled. "Well, he won't be a baby forever and he will need a name like you have."

"Em."

"Yes, your name is Em. I do not think your brother would take well to that name, and it would get very confusing."

"Papa."

Rebecca smiled. "Should we name this baby after Papa?"

"Yes."

"All right then." She looked at her son, who was now sleeping peacefully in her arms. "Charles Huger Redmond the second it is." She looked back to Em. "I think your Papa will be very pleased."

--*--

Rebecca settled down at her desk once again. She drew several sheets of paper from the drawer and prepared to write two letters. She glanced over at Charlie, sleeping peacefully in a cradle near the fireplace. Em was content there as well, laying on a thick blanket and playing with her dolls.

Rebecca dipped the nib and gave careful consideration to how to begin the letter to Charlie Sr.

Tuesday, March 7, 1865

Dearest Charlie,

Congratulations! You have a son. Not the one you are thinking of, of that I am sure.

Yesterday, a young woman who had formerly been in the employment of Mrs. Armstrong came knocking on our door.

Her name was Alison Hobart, and she had a rather fascinating story about how you fathered her son. You truly are an amazing man, Charlie Redmond.

Of course, it became quite clear she was only after money. I gave her two hundred dollars, and relieved her of the baby boy, who is not more than a month old.

She did not care for the child, Charlie; she was only looking for a tidy sum. I certainly did not give her what she demanded, but I gave her enough to send her on her way.

So, last night, Miss Emily and I were discussing the new addition to our family and decided his name should be Charles Huger Redmond II. I do hope you approve.

He is an adorable little boy, and by all accounts very healthy, with a demanding appetite. He does keep Ginny quite busy.

We miss you so, my love. I hope you are well and staying dry and warm. Everything here is progressing as expected. Tarent and MacFarlane have taken to getting the farm up and running as soon as possible and have even hired several of the young Negro boys to help them build or repair anything that looks even slightly in need of work.

Shannon is doing very well; she does so enjoy running and kicking up her heels. She is actually quite playful and will run the fence when she sees Em and I coming for a visit to give her a special treat of carrots. I do think she misses Jack, though. Sometimes I see the same look in her eyes that I see in my own when I look in the mirror.

Emily is trying very hard to understand that Papa is gone, but will be home as soon as he can. She asks for you every night and always remembers you during prayers.

Please take care my darling. We wait for your return.

Your loving wife,

Rebecca

She laid Charlie's letter to the side to let the ink dry. Then she set pen to paper for yet another letter.

Tuesday, March 7, 1865

Dear Mrs. Armstrong,

I am sure I am the last person from whom you ever expected to receive correspondence. However, a situation has arisen that I believe you should be aware of because you are a dear friend of Charlie’s.

First, let me reassure you, that as far as I know, Charlie is fine. I have not received any word of the opposite, so I must believe he is well.

The reason I am writing you now is to tell you of a visit I had from a woman who claims to have been in your employ. Her name is Alison Hobart. She arrived on my doorstep yesterday with a newly born baby son, who, to my private amusement, she tried to blame on Charlie.

I gave her funds, relieved her of the baby, and sent her on her way. I believe you need to know what this woman is trying to do. She specifically mentioned she remembered Charlie from his visits to your establishment.

I will admit to you, a certain amount of pleasure when I could confront her with the truth, that Charlie had only ever come to visit you and I knew of his relationship with you. You have never seen a woman go so pale so quickly.

I have given the child Charlie's name. I will wait for a proper christening until after Charlie comes home.

I do hope that once the conflict is over and it is again safe to travel, you will come and spend sometime at our home and meet our growing family.

Please Mrs. Armstrong, be very careful about this young woman. I would certainly hate for her to cause you trouble.

Regards,

Rebecca Redmond

--*--

Friday, March 10, 1865

Charlie dismounted from Jack and handed Jocko the reins, his gauntlets and his canteen. "God, Jocko. I think I am getting too old for this."

"Well, Gen’l C, I have something to cheer you a bit and put that youthful bounce back into your step. A special courier came with another letter from Miss Rebecca."

"I feel a bit guilty. With these last days of hard riding, I have not had time to finish the letter I started before we left Crozet."

"Well, sir, we are to settle here for a couple of days before we go on toward Goochland Courthouse, and the infantry has to catch up. I suspect you will have plenty of time now."

"Good. I can use the break from being all day in the saddle. Are we setting up the officers’ mess tent?"

"Yes, sir. Jamison’s boys are already working on it."

"Good –– send word that I will expect the officers to dine together."

"Oh, and Major M’Cabe’s boys found a herd of goats wandering untended."

"Goats? And what did the boys from Company E do?"

"I understand they tried to find the owners, but from what the locals say, the goats have been wandering for a while. Seems their owners fell to the grippe last winter. So Jamison’s boys dressed them out and roasted them."

"Ah, good. Fresh meat will do wonders for morale –– especially after all the rain and mud we have had to endure."

Charlie was fingering the rather thick letter that Jocko had brought him, obviously wanting to read it in the privacy of his own tent, but too courteous to send Jocko away. Jocko, knowing his boss very well, excused himself.

Charlie settled into his camp chair and lovingly opened his letter. He read the first line and nearly dropped the letter. He read it again, and just sat there with his jaw hanging open. "A son? I have a son?" It came out of him as a reverent whisper. Then it dawned on him that if he had a son it probably meant that Constance had passed on. With trembling hands, he carefully read the whole letter through. Finally it sank in. He had a son, and not at the terrible price of Constance’s life.

"Jocko!" Charlie waited about fifteen seconds. Then he bellowed. "Jocko!"

Jocko came running. Charlie never yelled like that. As the batman burst through the tent flap, Charlie grabbed him by the shoulders. "I have a son. A son! Break out a keg of my best brandy; we will toast Charlie the Second at dinner tonight!"

Charlie announced his good news to his officers amid great good cheer and mirth. The men all knew that Charlie was rapidly acquiring a family through adoption, but, except for Jocko and Elizabeth, all present believed that Charlie was celebrating the birth of an illegitimate child Rebecca was generous enough to adopt as her own.

Late that night, he continued his letter to Rebecca.

Friday, March 10, 1865

Darling wife, I continue my letter begun several days ago still reeling from your news. A son. My namesake. I do hope he is a healthy, hale little fellow.

We celebrated this evening. For the first time in several days, we are settling down in a real camp, where we will stay for a while. So we actually have tents, other than our sleep tents that are quickly raised, and time for a decent meal. M’Cabe’s men found some goats, which Jamison roasted, so we had fresh meat and good brandy to toast my son.

I must confess, I have absolutely no memory of Miss Hobart. I suppose I met her at Lizzie’s, but then she had many attractive young women in her employ over the time I have known her. I think you handled the situation artfully, dear heart.

I am also sure you are handling the farm well. Tarent is a good man, and I am glad you and he have formed an effective alliance. I know, from all of the talks we have had, you know more about the running of an effective stud farm than I do. I have full faith in your ability to do what needs to be done, and in Tarent to ensure it is done correctly.

By the by, dear, is Shannon showing signs of being in foal? I would love to see what she and Jack produce. I believe any foal of theirs will either be ugly and mean tempered or absolutely elegant and sweet. Of course, it could be elegant and mean or ugly and sweet as honey.

We are headed east, and have lain over for a bit to allow the infantry to catch up. This gives me some time just to sit and relax. I picked up some very nice fine cotton yarn in the supply depot in Charlottesville, and have taken to knitting booties. Believe it or not, I learned how to knit from a grizzled old sergeant who swore that every soldier should know how so he could take care of his socks and keep his feet healthy. I have been knitting my own socks for years, and find baby booties are an easy adaptation. Perhaps you can surrender and stay with crocheting caps and blankets, dear.

I think I will turn in now, and send this to you in the morning pouch. I fear I have had a bit of my own medicine –– but it was a good brandy and a wonderful reason to celebrate.

All my love, my heart and soul to you.

Your Charlie

--*--

Wednesday, March 15, 1865

With eager fingers, Charlie tore open the seal on Rebecca’s next letter. They had been sitting in camp, doing what soldiers did best –– hurrying up and waiting. He was aching to be home, to be with Rebecca, to meet his new son. These letters were the closest thing he had.

Monday, March 13, 1865

Dearest Charlie,

Rest assured your son, is quite the healthy little fellow with lungs that would make your best drill sergeant proud. When little Charlie needs something he is not the least bit shy about letting us know.

Em is quite proud of her little brother and bestows him with kisses at every opportunity. She is also doing very well with Papa now. The pup follows her everywhere and even sleeps at the foot of her bed.

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

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

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

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

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

Eternally yours,

Rebecca

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

He tapped on her tent flap and waited.

"Come in."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday, March 17, 1865

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

Thursday, March 16, 1865

Dearest Charlie,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hugs to Richard and Elizabeth.

Waiting as patiently as I am able for your return.

Eternally yours.

Rebecca

Chapter 32

Friday, March 17, 1865

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

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

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

Charlie’s letter to Rebecca that night was short.

Friday, March 17, 1865

Darling Wife,

I am grieved past words that we have lost our dear friend Constance. I am glad that Beulah attended the service with you and the devil take Mrs. Williams and her bigoted sensibilities. How is our little girl doing? More to the point, how are you doing, darling? A newborn, a six week old sprat and a grieving toddler is more than any one person should have to handle. I wish I were there with you, beloved. I miss you more than I can tell you.

When it comes to horseflesh, I trust Tarent more than any other man. Give him whatever he needs; he will serve us well.

We mobilize tomorrow, so I must make this short. I adore you, my beloved and miss you with every fiber of my being.

All my love, my heart and soul to you.

Your Charlie

--*--

Saturday, March 18, 1865

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--*--

Sunday, March 26, 1865

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

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

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

Charlie cursed a blue streak.

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

--*--

Wednesday, April 5, 1865

April 5, 1865

Dearest Rebecca,

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

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

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

I love you.

Charlie

--*--

Thursday, April 6, 1865

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

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

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

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

Duncan took off at a hard gallop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As Richard started back, Charlie could see a cloud of dust in the distance and hints of movement. Lee’s army was on its way. Lee had split his forces into three columns. They were about to face the southern column, which was comprised of one quarter of all of the remaining Southern forces in Virginia.

--*--

Gordon’s cavalry came on, desperate. They were hungry; they were clothed in rags. They were short of ammunition. The wagons bogged down in the marshy terrain. Gordon’s troops fought like devils. It was exactly what Charlie had expected –– and feared.

Dewees was a fool. He let his men go too soon and they took at least two rounds from Union artillery until he realized what both Charlie and Richard had told him. Follow the plan. That was the rule. Follow the plan.

Elizabeth, who normally was reasonably calm in battle, started cursing like a sailor when she realized she was treating wounds inflicted by their own forces.

Charlie pulled Swallow’s A Company and Braddock’s H Company from the reserve lines and sent them down to relieve Dewees. Andrews and M’Cabe, Companies C and E, were assigned to Merritt’s right flank. With controlled artillery support, and a sound infantry brigade at their core, the Union Army moved slowly in on the smaller Confederate force. It was a rout. Sheridan’s forces, a total of approximately eighteen thousand mixed infantry, cavalry, and heavy artillery, had faced some thirteen thousand five hundred of Lee’s remaining troops.

By the end of the day, Sheridan’s forces had captured seven thousand seven hundred men, most of whom had sustained some sort of injury. Eight confederate generals, including Robert E. Lee’s oldest son, George Washington Custis Lee, were captured. There were a total of about two thousand injuries in the Union forces and less than two hundred deaths. The Southern force had been devastated. Later, Richard was told that Lee, seeing men fleeing along the roads, asked, "My God, has the army dissolved?"

Charlie considered himself fortunate. He had only three letters to write home to parents, wives and families announcing the death of a loved one.

--*--

Charlie walked through the field hospital that Elizabeth and Samuelson had set up on the heights above Sailor’s Creek. He stopped and talked to a number of men, encouraging them, congratulating them on their accomplishments. Finally, he just stood and waited as Elizabeth finished treating the last –– and least seriously hurt –– of the wounded.

She stood there in the makeshift surgery tent, bloodied to the elbows, her dress covered with a piece of bloodstained canvas pinned on as an apron. For a few moments, the only people in the tent were Elizabeth and Charlie. Silently, he went to her, put his arms around her and let her lean on his shoulder.

Finally, she gathered herself, only to let go with a tirade of magnificent proportions. "God damn it, Charlie! What the bloody hell happened? I had to dig our own canister shot out of those boys."

"I am so sorry, Elizabeth. Dewees broke formation early; it put the men in the path of the first rounds while artillery was getting their range."

"So what about you, Charlie? You put a green commander in the vanguard. How stupid was that?"

"I put Company D in the vanguard because they won the right at the gymkhana and I could not go back on my word to them. Dewees has been in service since the beginning; I thought he would have better sense."

"Well, see to it that he somehow manages to follow orders in the future or he is going to get more men killed. We were damned lucky as it was. I have a couple of critical cases but only three deaths so far is not bad. You tell that little idiot from me that he is responsible for the loss of a total of seventeen arms, nine legs and God know how many horses."

"I will. I will also see to it that he personally manages the disposal of the limbs." Charlie took a deep breath. He had more bad news to deliver. "You realize that we are now in the midst of a running battle?"

"Yes, I assume we are going to chase them down. Samuelson and I are as ready as we can be."

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I will send Dewees to you shortly. You have my permission to flay him as much as you like."

Charlie turned to leave. As he reached the tent flap, Elizabeth called out. "Charlie? Take care of yourself. You have four people who really need you to go home when this is over."

He nodded and walked out.

--*--

Charlie sent Duncan to fetch Dewees. As he waited in his tent, he started a letter home. Before he had gotten past the first couple of lines, the Captain knocked.

"Enter."

Dewees came in and stood at ramrod attention. Charlie said nothing to relieve his tension.

"So. What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

"Sir, I allowed my eagerness to get the better of me, Sir."

Charlie stood up and moved to stand directly in front of the man. Less than two inches separated their noses. In an icy tone, Charlie began. "You let your stupidity get the better of you. You disobeyed a direct order –– issued three times, no less. I could have your ass before a firing squad this evening for that alone. But no, that was not enough. You knew we had artillery that needed to get a range on their shot. But you let our men ride into their field of fire." By now, Charlie was spraying spit with each word. "You have one third of your company down with injuries on the first day of what we know will be a hard running battle. There are twenty-six limbs and nine horses that need to be disposed of properly." Charlie’s voice had been rising with each word. He was now yelling outright, something he almost never did. "You will personally see to it. And tomorrow morning, you will report to me in person before a single man of your company moves a foot. Dismissed!"

Dewees scurried from the tent on his way to do the onerous duty Charlie had assigned him, and then to talk to his men about being too eager.

Jocko and Richard entered together. Charlie sighed and put aside his barely begun letter home.

"Yes, gentlemen?"

Richard spoke first. "How shall I order the men, Charlie? Do we march tomorrow?"

"I do not have Sheridan’s orders yet, but I suspect we do. This has all the earmarks of a running battle."

"All right. I will order fast rations, have them get what sleep they can and be ready to move at dawn."

Charlie nodded, tired and distracted with thoughts of what the next few days might bring. It was only going to get worse. Richard hurried out to see to the men.

Jocko spoke up. "A courier just arrived from Sheridan’s command. He requests your presence in a half hour. I grabbed some bread and ham for you, and have a fresh horse ready."

Charlie sighed, slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. He had gotten less than two hours of sleep the night before; it looked as though tonight would be no better. "If you have a fresh horse, I assume that Jack is still lame."

"Yes, I am afraid so. He is doing better, but I would not ask him to carry you yet."

"Well, give him a carrot and a pet for me. I will be back whenever I can get back. Is Duncan ready to ride with me?"

"Waiting outside the tent. Charlie, do you need……"

"I need this war to be over. I need to be home. I need some sleep. But you cannot give me any of those things, old friend. Keep the lamp burning; I am going to need some rest before we march tomorrow."

--*--

Friday, April 7, 1865

Charlie rose before dawn, having gotten to bed sometime around midnight. He knew that the day would be hard. Sheridan had ordered the two cavalry forces –– his and Custer’s –– to ride south and west, circumventing the main body of Lee’s forces, to take and hold the rail line from Roanoke to Appomattox. There was one objective –– to prevent Lee from receiving his supplies and thereby stop him from getting to North Carolina.

Richard and Charlie met over the early morning coffee pot. It was so early that the only light was from the low burning fires and a few torches. False dawn had yet to light the sky.

"So, Charlie, where do we go today?"

"We ride at dawn for the western part of Appomattox County –– some place called Appomattox Station. We are back on railroad detail –– and damn it, this time that glory hound Custer is in command."

"Custer? My God, Charlie –– that man is plain dangerous."

"I know. I spent a good bit of last night listening to him complain about how his boys missed out on the action since he simply flanked Ewell’s forces and we had to face Gordon head on."

Richard thought for a moment. "You know, Charlie, I have always wondered about something."

"Yes?"

"You have more experience than he does and to be honest, more success in the field. Yet he has climbed the ladder more quickly than you. Why did you avoid the politics?"

Charlie took a long drink from his coffee mug, regarding his old friend and wondering if Richard had started to become suspicious about Charlie’s secret. "I am just a soldier, up from the ranks. You know as well as I do just how nasty the politics are, Richard, so I just did my job, kept my head down and stayed out of the games that McClellan and Custer and those fellows play. Taking care of my men is enough for me."

Richard slapped Charlie on the shoulder. "And you do a damned fine job. I have learned more from you than from any other officer in the Army, I believe. Now, what is on for today?"

"We need to move quickly. Assign one of the companies to stay behind to escort the supplies and wounded; they must follow us as quickly as they can. Oh, hell. Since most of the wounded are Dewees’, assign him. Have Raiford be temporarily assigned to Company A. He does not deserve to lose his position as color bearer just because Dewees was an ass."

"Good idea. And Swallow at least knows what he is doing."

"We move at dawn. Let us get to it."

--*--

They rode hard for most of the day. It would not have taken so long, but for two distinct challenges. The first was the need to move around the main body of Lee’s forces and get ahead of them. Lee’s infantry and artillery slowed the progress of his forces of around thirty thousand men, but they still covered a good bit of territory. The second was a more difficult problem. Men were deserting from the Confederate forces by the score –– they simply left their companies and started walking home. Charlie and his men kept running into bunches of these dispirited souls on the back roads they were traveling. The first few times, things were tense. But Charlie and his men quickly realized the deserters presented no real threat.

The third bunch of ragged men they came across was trying to roast a couple of skinny rabbits they had caught. Charlie looked at these half starved, exhausted souls and immediately ordered Duncan to find them a ham and some bread.

They rode on, and by around three o’clock, reached a little train station in the middle of nowhere.

Charlie met with Custer while the men set up a makeshift overnight camp.

"Well, Redmond. If we are fortunate, we will see some action tomorrow."

"General, if we are fortunate, we will manage a surrender tomorrow. The less bloodshed, the better."

"Oh, Redmond, where is your sporting sense? Oh, yes, some men might get hurt, but that is part of the risk of war. You might say, the price of glory."

"General Custer, you and I have a different perception of the glory, as you call it, of battle. Particularly battle against men I have known for twenty years, whom I fought beside in Mexico, and who I now see as tired, dispirited, and hungry. General, they are already defeated. We now have only to complete the inevitable with as much dignity and honor as possible."

"Well, sir, I can see your point of view. I still want to write my name on at least one more battle in this conflict. Therefore, tomorrow, my brigade will take the lead. We will set the forward scouts, with the objective of taking, and if necessary destroying, any supply trains intended to relieve the rebels. You will serve as our reserves, and as defense against any effort by Lee’s vanguard from the east."

"Yes, Sir. My men will provide as much support as you require. Sergeant Nailer, who you have already met, will serve as my personal courier."

The two men examined the maps and scouting reports and determined details of deployment for the following day. Charlie then returned to camp, decidedly disturbed at Custer’s attitude, but grateful that he might actually be able to get some sleep that night.

--*--

Charlie established camp in a protected site halfway between the isolated train station and the nearby town of Appomattox Courthouse. It had an area, sheltered from northern winds by a low rise of hills, which was ideal for Elizabeth’s medical staff, and was on high ground that could be easily defended from raiders. Around sundown, Elizabeth, escorted by Company D, arrived at the camp. The more severely wounded had been transferred to the main hospital facilities within Grant’s army; only the walking wounded traveled with the contingent. Charlie rode to meet them.

"Well, Dewees, how was the trip here?"

"Uneventful, sir. We received orders from General Merritt to let the rebel deserters go their way, though we passed several groups of them."

"And the injured? Did they make the trip well?"

"You will have to ask Dr. Walker, Sir. I have not checked on them recently."

"Then you shall come with me and do so now, sir. Your first duty as an officer is to tend to the care of your men."

"Yes, sir." Dewees hung his head. Clearly, the qualities of leadership he had learned from Montgomery were not up to the standards of this career officer. He wondered what else he had done wrong.

--*--

That evening, Charlie and Richard met to go over the plans for the next day. They split the force, putting Richard and half the men facing back to the east to guard against any surprise by Lee’s vanguard. The other half were ranged to the west, to support Custer in the event he had problems with the escorts for the expected supply trains.

Having briefed each company commander on his duties for the following day, Charlie finally managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour. He literally dropped into bed like a sack of flour and fell into a deep sleep. The past few days had taken their toll. Rebecca’s letter, started two days earlier, would just have to wait another day.

--*--

Saturday, April 8, 1865

The ground was soft; it had rained the night before. Charlie’s mount, one of the reserve horses, was not as sure footed as Jack. Before the sun was high, Charlie thought his tailbone was going to crack.

It was quiet for much of the morning. They rode circuits up and down the rail line, looking for any sign of a train, not expecting anything as Custer’s men were ahead of them further down the line.

Just before lunchtime, a messenger came riding in from Custer’s command post. "Move up, we have a major problem."

Charlie signaled Duncan, who had learned the basic bugle calls, to signal the men to move forward at all speed. As they rode, Charlie asked the courier what the problem was.

"They have guns, sir. No infantry that we can see, but howitzers to guard the train. They have General Custer’s men pinned down."

Charlie rode up to where Custer and his officers were huddled behind a rise, discussing the problem. It was artillery against cavalry –– a situation that no one had ever faced before.

"The 13th reporting, Sir." Charlie rode up to the group of officers milling around Custer.

"How many men do you have riding with you, General?" Custer looked almost gleeful. He had a battle on his hands.

"I have about five hundred mounted, sir. The other half of the regiment is providing protection against an attack from the main body of the Lee’s forces."

Custer stroked his little goatee. "That should be enough. This is what I want, Redmond. I will use the main body of my troops to hold their attention. I want your men to flank them and press them up against the rail lines. If you can get behind them before they can turn the guns, it should be fairly simple. We have word that General Walker is commanding. He does not have a history of being able to respond rapidly."

Charlie slipped up to the top of the hill to survey the situation. A supply train was stopped on the tracks, with light artillery on either side serving as escort. To the far right, there was a line of trees, with about five hundred feet of clear pasture on a slight uphill slope. Charlie looked very carefully. If he could get behind the trees without being detected, he had a chance of coming up behind the artillery. On the other hand, if his troopers were detected too early, and one or more of the guns could be turned, there would be a bloodbath. Fortunately, since half the guns were deployed on the other side of the train, it might not be too difficult if Custer could keep the gunners occupied while they got in position.

He returned to the cluster of officers. "Yes, Sir. Give us about a half an hour to get into position."

The conference with his company officers was tense and terse. Each trooper dismounted and carefully wrapped his horse’s hooves to help keep them silent. The men slipped behind the tree line, a few at a time.

It looked good. But as they broke from the woods to charge the Confederate’s flank, the end gunner swung his howitzer around and let loose with a round of deadly canister shot. Even though the shot was undirected, the effect was devastating, spraying a rain of Minnie balls into Charlie’s charging troops.

The blast kicked up a fountain of dirt, mixing fragments of the canister casing, the balls inside the casing and a cloud of rock pieces and dirt up into the faces of the charging men.

Charlie saw Raiford and the flag go down. Young Lieutenant Swallow snatched the banner up and the men charged forward. An instant later, Charlie’s horse stumbled and fell, a ball embedded in his chest. Charlie grabbed a stray horse, not knowing if the rider had fallen to the shot or if he had just been unseated when the horse shied from the flying debris. It did not matter at that moment.

Charlie’s men charged on. Another gunner started to swing around and train his muzzle on the charging 13th. Then, finally, Charlie heard Custer’s men sound the charge. Cavalry came crashing into the jaws of the artillery barrage from two sides. From the calm that had reigned no more than five minutes earlier, the world had become total mayhem.

As the 13th closed on the artillery emplacement, many of the men jumped from their horses to engage the rebel gunners hand to hand. Horses milled, men fought with saber and side arm. Charlie, followed closely by Duncan, rode into the midst of the turmoil. With sword in hand, Charlie started to cut a path to the command position, close to the train’s engine. He thought all of the guns were incapacitated, for, having fired their loaded round, the gunners would not be able to reload once they were engaged in hand to hand combat.

He was wrong.

One gunnery team still had a loaded howitzer. The charge hit to Charlie’s right, a shattering blast. Men from both sides went down. Charlie felt fire and flame tear through his right arm, his leg, and his hand. The horse fell, dead in his tracks. That sense of falling was the last thing Charlie felt. In that instant, knowing he was dying, he cried out, "Rebecca!"

Duncan heard Charlie cry out. The Sergeant had taken a ball in his arm, his horse had fallen, but he was still on his feet.

"General? General Charlie! Oh, my God!"

--*--

Jocko had stayed with the support staff, as was his normal position. He was coordinating the movement of reserve horses and the medical support team. Jack was healing, so Jocko chose to ride him and give him a light workout. He had just finished checking on Elizabeth and was turning away when Jack bolted.

Jocko hung on. No horse was going to get the better of him, even General Charlie’s blasted pig-headed stallion. Ten minutes of hard galloping later, Jocko had passed Custer’s emplacement and been dragged through a small stand of trees. The scene in front of him horrified him.

There was Duncan, on his knees, blood pouring down one arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood from what looked like Charlie’s entire right side. The General was soaked in blood and a small pool was gathering under him. His face was sheet white, and he was clearly unconscious.

Jocko pulled his coat and shirt off, ripping them to use them as bandages. He pulled Duncan up by the collar of his coat. "Go. Take Jack. Get Dr. Walker and a medic crew here immediately."

Duncan nodded, unable to speak for the tears running down his cheeks, and leapt on the waiting horse.

Very gently, Jocko checked Charlie’s wounds. It was bad, very bad. His shoulder was ripped up, half his hand had been torn off, and several chunks were gone from his buttock and thigh. The worst was a gaping wound, almost as wide as Jocko’s hand, in the heavy muscles of his thigh. It looked like most of the blood was from the hand and the thigh wound. Jocko packed his shirt in the thigh and used the sleeve of his jacket to tie it off, trying to slow the flow of blood. He removed his belt and tied off Charlie’s wrist with a makeshift tourniquet. The shoulder would just have to wait. It was seeping, but not gushing like the leg would. Then he waited.

--*--

The makeshift camp was roaring with activity. Dr Walker had issued orders before leaving that made a lot of the men feel like she was a fully commissioned officer. The orders were simple. Get a tent raised for General Redmond and make sure it was outfitted with a warm bed, a stove and lanterns. And not a word of his injuries was to leave the camp –– especially not to Rebecca - until Elizabeth gave approval.

The men did her bidding without question. They knew General Redmond was hurt, they just did not know how badly. They watched as their commander was brought back into camp on a stretcher. Jocko and Samuelson carefully carried the litter with Whitman and Dr Walker half walking, half running ahead of them into his tent.

Somber looks were traded as the men silently wondered when Dr. Walker would come tell them that General Redmond had succumbed to his injuries.

Inside the tent, Elizabeth tossed her cloak off and quickly began washing her hands. "All right. Jocko, post a guard on this tent. No one, and I mean no one gets in here until after I have treated him."

"Right away, Doctor." Jocko gave one last look at his friend and then left the tent.

Elizabeth dried her hands and nodded to Whitman and Samuelson, "Get him out of that uniform. And prepare him for surgery."

She looked down at her friend, more dead than alive, and for the first time in a very long time, Dr. Elizabeth Walker felt sick. She found an apron in the pile of supplies and draped it over her neck as Whitman cut Charlie out of the tattered remnants of his uniform and Samuelson prepared all the equipment the doctor would need.

Elizabeth leaned over, taking a wet cloth to remove the blood spatter from Charlie’s face. "Listen to me, you stubborn bastard. Charlie Redmond is not a quitter. You have never run from anything in all the years I have known you. You need not start now. I do not want to have to go face Rebecca with the news you have died."

She looked at the wounds as best she could without removing the packing that was keeping Charlie from bleeding to death. She had just started removing the bandages against his hip and leg when Jocko came back into the tent.

"Dr. Walker, I am afraid you are needed."

"I am needed here."

"Ma’am there is a soldier with a serious wound……"

She blew a disgusted breath and looked to Samuelson. "Repack that, I will be back as soon as I can. Go ahead and treat the hand as best as you can and the shoulder as well."

"Yes, Doctor." Samuelson nodded.

--*--

An hour later Elizabeth returned to the tent. Charlie’s shoulder and hand had been treated and re-bandaged. She lifted his hand and examined the bandages. "How many fingers?"

"He lost the third and fourth finger, Doctor. They were completely blown off. Fortunately, it was a relatively clean wound."

Placing his hand back at his side she ran her fingers over the shoulder. "And this?"

"More severe, but we managed to clean and repair it. The General may lose some use of the arm, but at least it is still attached."

Elizabeth nodded and prepared to deal with the leg. "Which is more than we can probably hope for here."

As she removed the bandages, Charlie moaned. "Liz……a……beth……"

"I am here, Charlie."

"Bad?"

"Yes Charlie, it is bad. I think we are going to have to take your leg."

"No."

"Charlie, there may be no option."

"No."

"This wound is serious, I do not think I can save your leg. If I do not take it you will die."

Charlie nodded slowly. "Then……so……be……it……" He drew a deep breath and was once again unconscious.

Elizabeth looked to the faces in the room. "Come on. We have to try and save this leg."

Chapter 33

Saturday, April 8, 1865

Elizabeth, Samuelson and Whitman stayed in Charlie’s tent, working long hours to try and save his mangled leg. She sent Jocko to try and get some sleep; someone would have to sit with him through the night and watch for any hemorrhages or fever. Jocko was the obvious choice. Instead, the man had taken up a position in front of the tent, waiting and keeping others away. Richard was ducking back and forth between the command tent and Charlie’s tent. He had received orders to march to Appomattox Courthouse in the morning to join Sheridan in attempting to keep Lee contained.

The effort that had cost Charlie so dearly had done much to help the cause. They had captured three supply trains carrying the critical supplies Grant believed would make the difference between Lee reaching North Carolina and surrendering. It was little comfort to Richard and the men of the 13th Pennsylvania.

Finally, Elizabeth and Samuelson emerged. Whitman stayed to watch over the patient for a while until he could be relieved. Richard looked at Elizabeth carefully. She was drawn and gray-skinned from exhaustion. Charlie’s blood was splattered all over her apron and dress. "Darling, how are you? And how is he?"

"I am all right. But I have my doubts that Charlie will survive the night. A third of his posterior right hip and buttock is missing. He lost more blood than any one man should. We have done everything we can. The rest is up to God and our friend."

"Dear God. Elizabeth, how can I tell Rebecca?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I do not know. If it comes to it, I think I should be the one to travel to Culpeper and tell her. However, I want to wait until it is absolutely necessary. You never know, Richard, Charlie is a fighter, he may survive."