Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

Jocko, who had been listening to this conversation, broke in. "How dare you write him off? He will live. He has to. That baby girl back in Culpeper needs him. Miss Rebecca needs him. You have to get him through."

"Jocko, I have done everything for him medically that I can. His wounds are severe, he lost a lot of blood and, by all rights, I should have amputated that leg, but he did not want that. Believe me, I do not want to lose our friend any more than you do, but we have to be prepared for the possibility."

"If he does die, I will deal with it when it happens. Until then, I will be doing everything I can to get him back to his lady and their babies." Jocko turned and slipped into the tent to sit vigil with his oldest friend.

Richard looked at his retreating back. "If I had not received orders to stand at Appomattox Courthouse tomorrow morning, I think I might join him."

"We will all be taking our turns with him, Richard. The best thing you can do for him is to do your duty and hopefully bring a quick end to this horror. I need to get cleaned up. Having Charlie's blood all over my hands is making me ill."

"Of course, Elizabeth. I am sorry. I have been keeping you. Come, Jamison has been keeping water hot for you, and some hot food and coffee as well."

--*--

Jocko sat quietly beside Charlie’s cot, checking the bandages every few minutes and softly sponging his friend’s forehead with a cool cloth. It was very late; the camp was still except for the calls of the sentries as they made their rounds.

Charlie stirred, fretful in his pain and fever. He opened his eyes, expecting to see St. Peter. Instead, he saw Jocko’s concerned features.

"J..jocko?" Charlie could hardly speak he was so drained.

"Right here, Charlie boy. Looking out for ya like always. Glad to see you have decided to join us again."

Charlie lay there, gathering his strength for a few moments before replying. "Not for long, I fear." He dampened his lips. "Jocko. Favor?"

"Anything for you. You know that. But you are going to be fine. Oh, Miss Rebecca will skin me alive if I go back without ya."

A look of such intense longing crossed Charlie’s features that Jocko nearly cried out for him. "Sword. Watch. Take them home. Take care of them for me." He caught his breath. "Tell her…… love her."

"Stop talking like that, Charlie. You have to go home. Miss Rebecca needs you. And what of little Em and your two boys? They need their Papa. Come on, Charlie, think of your family. They love you and need you."

"Love them. Take care……" Charlie slipped back into unconsciousness.

Jocko looked at his friend, tears in his eyes. He took Charlie’s good hand in his, and bowed his head. He then did something he had not done since he was a lad in his mother’s house. "Hail Mary, full of grace……"

--*--

Sunday, April 9, 1865

At dawn, Richard led the 13th Pennsylvania into the line alongside the rest of Sheridan’s cavalry. John Broun Gordan’s infantry and FitzHugh Lee’s Cavalry faced them through the early mist. The Confederates advanced and slowly, Sheridan’s troops fell back, opening a gap in the middle of their line. There, standing ready to meet the Confederate advance was Grant’s infantry. They had covered the ninety-five miles from Petersburg in three days.

The Confederates withdrew. There were about seven hundred casualties on the field, approximately evenly divided between Union and Confederate forces. Most were injured, not dead. That afternoon, Grant and Lee met and terms of surrender were negotiated. The order was given, "Stack arms." The war in Virginia was over.

Stillness fell over the battlefield as twenty eight thousand Confederate soldiers surrendered and began the long process of signing their paroles. The Union artillery began a long, somber salute to their vanquished enemy –– a two hundred-gun salute that thundered in the stillness. There was no celebration, no wild exuberance, just a quiet, thankful peace.

The men of the 13th played their role, and then hurried back to their encampment to sit vigil for their fallen leader.

--*--

Whitman slipped into Charlie’s tent. Jocko had been up for almost two days, first preparing for battle and then sitting at Charlie’s side. He would not allow anyone else to tend him.

"Jocko, you need to get some rest. If you fall down, we will be hard pressed to take care of him. Let me watch him for a while. Get some food and at least a nap."

Jocko looked around the tent, spying a spot in the corner where he could toss a bedroll. "All right then, a little food could not hurt. I will not be long. Then I can bunk down in that corner for a bit."

"Watch yourself out there. Dr. Walker and Samuelson are up to their elbows in injuries. There was another battle this morning."

"And how did it go? How many more will there be?"

"I believe it is over. Did you hear the guns rumbling? It was not a barrage –– it was a salute. The Virginians are stacking arms."

Relief washed over Jocko like a raging river. "Oh, thank the Lord." He leaned over and whispered, "You hear that, Charlie boy. It is over, time to go home to Miss Rebecca and the children."

Charlie stirred, restless and very feverish. Whitman checked the bandages. While there was no serious bleeding, there was a small but ominous yellow stain. "Jocko? When you have eaten, stop by the hospital tent and ask Dr. Walker to look in over here as soon as she can."

"I can fetch her now." With that Jocko was out of the tent and in search of the good doctor.

Jocko found Elizabeth in the makeshift surgery. She was covered in blood, having just finished amputating a man’s shattered leg. She looked exhausted; and there were more men waiting. "Excuse me, Dr. Walker."

"Yes, Jocko."

"Mr. Whitman just looked in on Gen’l Charlie. He said you need to check in on him as soon as you can."

Elizabeth nodded, looking around at the wounded men. "All right, as soon as I am finished here, Jocko. I promise."

Jocko was less than thrilled with her response, but knew she had a duty to care for all of the men in the regiment, not just Charlie. The problem was, he did not particularly care for all of the men of the regiment, but Charlie was his boss, his friend. Disheartened, he wandered off to the enlisted men’s mess tent.

Once inside he found himself looking into the eyes of two-dozen worried men. A Corporal found the courage to step forward. "How is the General?"

Jocko lifted his chin. "Boys, I will be honest. Tis not a pretty sight. But our Gen’l Charlie is a fighter. And we all know, he has more to fight for than most men."

"I heard he lost his arm." A voice in the back offered quietly.

"Nay, he still has both arms. He took a bad hit to his shoulder, but Doctor Walker stitched him back together. He did lose part of his hand, though. Blown right away. Our General is a tough’un. If any man of you had taken those wounds, you would be dead now. He is still with us."

One of the cooks stepped forward with a small covered pot. "Sergeant Jackson, here is the broth you asked me to prepare. If there is anything any of us can do for the General, you will let us know?"

"Of course. We get some of this good beef broth in him and start building him back up, he will be right as rain soon enough. So keep the broth coming, please. Oh, and some scalded milk, if you can find it."

"We will find it. If the General needs it, we will find it."

Jocko slapped the man on the shoulder. "Good man. I will be sure to tell the General of your contribution."

Jocko walked out of the mess tent with a sandwich in one hand, and the pot of broth in the other. He stopped by his own tent and grabbed his bedroll, which he slung over his back. Walking back to Charlie’s tent to resume his vigil, he again turned to the God he had not talked to in years. Please, God. I have never asked you for anything for me, but let Charlie live. Please.

--*--

It was several hours before Elizabeth managed to clear the most urgent cases and join Whitman and Jocko in Charlie’s tent. Jocko was passed out in the corner. Whitman was hovering over the injured man, his coat off, his shirt sleeves rolled up, alternately sponging his forehead and neck with cool water and prying fluids into him, a spoonful at a time.

"Is he taking it?" Elizabeth placed a light finger in Charlie's neck to feel for the swallowing reflex.

"He is. He is even lucid occasionally, although only for a moment or two. But the fever is rising and I have not been able to do anything to stop it. And I do not like the way one of his bandages looks, but I waited until you got here to take a look at the wound."

"Then let us see to it." She sighed and pulled a campstool up next to Charlie's cot. She had barely any energy left and she did not want to waste what she did have in standing unnecessarily.

Whitman peeled back the bandage over Charlie thigh and buttock. The wound was ghastly. The injury itself was terrible. Charlie’s flank looked liked a piece of chopped meat. But infection had set in. It was swollen, an angry red with pockets of puss. The smell was awful.

Elizabeth swallowed hard against the smell, fighting furiously to keep from losing the contents of her stomach. "Oh, Lord. Get me a surgical tray. I am going to have to remove more of this infected area." She licked her lips and made a decision. "And prepare the amputation equipment. If I cannot get this cleaned up properly, we are going to take this leg."

Jocko had awakened while they were looking at Charlie’s injuries. "Dr. Walker. You cannot take his leg. That would be worse than death for him. I have heard that warm salt water will clean up infections. If we could get some, I could keep washing it."

"Jocko, I do not want to take this leg. But would you see our friend dead if we can do something to prevent it? Of course we will do everything we can first. While I tend to removing more of this infection, you go find your warm salt bath. But I am telling you now that if it does not work, I am taking this leg. I cannot let him die if there is another option."

"Yes, ma’am. ‘‘Tis just that Charlie is so…… he needs…… Oh, hell, you know what I mean." Jocko realized what he had just said to Dr. Walker and flushed with embarrassment. "Pardon my language, ma’am. I will go get some boiled water and salt."

"It is all right, Jocko, I understand. This is difficult on all of us. We will see our friend through."

Whitman returned with a complete surgical tray just as Jocko was leaving. Jocko looked at Whitman fiercely. "Do not let her take that leg if it can be prevented. He would kill himself, I think, if he lost it."

--*--

Monday, April 10, 1865

Elizabeth had trimmed away the dead flesh and drained the pockets of infection. This time, instead of trying to sew the wound closed, she left it open, to drain and so that it could be washed down regularly with the salt and boiled water Jocko had made. She also made a tonic of feverwort, chamomile, and willow bark to try and control the fever. But still the fever slowly climbed higher.

They stripped him naked and washed his whole body down in cool water, but the fever slowly gained ground. Charlie was unconscious and at times delirious. They were terrified that in his thrashing, he would tear open his stitches. The only thing that Jocko and Whitman had to help them was the fact that he was so weak from blood loss. They could restrain him easily.

They continued to work on the infections. The thigh wound began to heal, slowly losing the angry swelling. The gashes in his buttocks and shoulder were not so cooperative.

Jocko looked at Whitman that night and laughed –– a totally humorless laugh. "Well, at least she cannot amputate his arse."

--*--

Tuesday, April 11, 1865

The word had moved across the country like wild fire. Lee had surrendered. Tarent kept Rebecca advised of all the rumors that were filtering back from the front. There were rumors of heavy fighting prior to the surrender, and Sheridan’s name was attached to all of those rumors but no details were available. Rebecca had received Charlie’s last letter, written six days ago on the eve of what was clearly a four-day running battle. After that, she had heard nothing. Finally, she could not stand it. She asked Tarent to hitch Shannon to her little basket trap and, with Em beside her, drove into town.

She arrived at Major Byrnes’ office and stalked in, brushing past his junior officers and ignoring all of their efforts to be polite to their General’s wife and daughter. Most of the men in the office knew that Charlie was injured; but orders had come down –– very specific orders. Mrs. Redmond was not to be told anything without Dr. Walker or Colonel Polk’s permission.

"Major, is there any news of my husband today?"

Byrnes had been dreading this moment. He was perfectly aware the General’s life hung in the balance. But he had orders not to tell her and he would obey those orders. "Ma’am, I am unable to tell you anything. I have been informed that the whereabouts of the General is a matter of some sensitivity. You must know that even though the Army of Virginia has surrendered, we are still in a state of war and some things remain too sensitive to allow either dispatch or telegram communications."

Rebecca took a deep breath, picked Emily up from the floor and sat her squarely in the center of the Major's desk. "Tell her that. Tell her that the whereabouts of her Papa are too sensitive for us to know." She lifted a brow in challenge. "Go ahead. Tell her you do not know anything of her Papa, who she has cried for nearly every day for the last two months."

Byrnes looked at the child sitting on his desk, looking at him with guileless blue eyes. Em smiled shyly at the officer. "Where Papa, pwease?"

"I am sorry, little one, I honestly do not know exactly where your Papa is. But I will send a telegram to headquarters to find out."

"Major," Rebecca lifted Em into her arms. "I do not need to know all the details. I just need to know if my husband is alive or not. I have a dreadful feeling that he may not be. Please prove me wrong."

"Ma’am, I can say with some surety that when I received this mornings dispatches from the 13th, your husband was alive. Beyond that, I do not know."

Rebecca fought tears; some borne of fear, other from relief. At least Charlie was alive. "Thank you, Major. Thank you very much. When you get more information, I would be grateful."

"Ma’am, I swear, when I have information I can share with you, I will personally ride out to deliver it."

--*--

Thursday, April 13, 1865

All day Wednesday, Charlie held his own neither better nor worse. On Thursday, as time, infection, and fever took their toll, Charlie slowly faded. He was delirious all of the time, but too weak to do more than twitch and mumble. The infection in his side was tenacious. The wound continued to seep. While Jocko’s saltwater baths had helped the shoulder, they had not been sufficient to overcome the larger infection in his buttock.

Finally, Elizabeth realized that it was time to send for Rebecca. She owed Rebecca the right to say goodbye to her husband if it was at all possible.

"We need to send for Rebecca. She should be here when..." She just shook her head, unwilling to admit she believed Charlie was going to die and that she had failed him not only as a friend, but also as a doctor.

Richard moved to her side. "Are you sure? I can send one of our couriers."

"No." Whitman had been sitting quietly on the other side of Charlie’s bed, patiently bathing the vicious wound with salt water. "She deserves to have a friend at her side when she makes this trip. I will go."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "I think that is a very kind gesture. You should prepare to leave as soon as possible."

"I will leave at first light. Colonel, can you provide me with a courier’s pass?"

"Of course, I will issue one right away. I will also send a letter stating you are on a mission of mercy and should be allowed to pass without delay."

"Thank you, Sir. I wish I did not have to make this trip, but I will make it as gentle on Rebecca as possible."

--*--

Friday, April 14, 1865

Whitman left at first light, riding the Army’s best courier horses. It was a long ride, about one hundred and thirty miles. He changed horses every hour and made excellent time, arriving in Culpeper late in the afternoon.

His first stop was Major Byrnes’ office, in part to remove some of the dust of the road, and in part to gain some support in this most difficult task. He carried special orders from General Grant, who had ordered a car be added to the dispatch train to carry Rebecca southward to Appomattox.

Somewhat less filthy, but still exhausted after a long, hard ride, Whitman rode the last mile to the house. His heart was filled with compassion for the young woman he was going to see. She had seen too much grief and sorrow in her life.

Beulah opened the door to find Mr. Whitman holding his hat in his hands.

"Oh Lord, ‘‘tis General Charlie. He is dead." She waited patiently for him to answer, but tears were forming in her eyes even then.

"No, Beulah, General Charlie is not dead. But we fear he may be dying. I have come to take Mrs. Redmond to him. Is she here?"

"Of course, Sir. Come in, I will fetch her."

Whitman stepped inside and waited; within a minute Rebecca came down the hall, stopping about half way to him. "He is dead."

"No, Miss Rebecca. He is not dead. But he is in a very bad way. General Grant is sending a train for you in the morning. I thought you would need a friend at hand. So, since I am the one least able to care for him, I came to get you. Jocko is by his side and Elizabeth and Samuelson are doing everything they can."

The dam broke and Rebecca collapsed where she stood, tears streaming, and gasping for air as she sobbed. She had felt for days that something was wrong but no one would tell her anything. "I knew it. I knew it."

"Miss Rebecca, please, calm yourself. General Charlie needs you. He is strong; he is getting the best care possible. But the injuries are very serious. He needs your strength –– now and in the future."

She felt his arms go around her as he knelt down. "They should have told me."

"Elizabeth was hoping to be able to send good news. At least, she has managed, so far, to save his leg."

"How bad is it? What happened to him?"

"He was hit with a blast of canister shot. His right side is badly ripped up. He has serious wounds to his shoulder, right buttock and thigh, as well as having lost two fingers off his right hand. The wound in his buttock is badly infected. The injuries are so severe that he may never regain full mobility." Whitman felt that Rebecca deserved the most clinically precise description possible. That would get the shock over more quickly and prepare her for the sight of her husband when they arrived. If he did not survive until they got back, it would give her a framework to understand why.

"When did it happen?"

"At Appomattox Station, the day before the surrender."

"He has survived this long?"

"Yes, ma’am. Duncan saw him go down and got to him quickly. I understand that Jack went a little crazy and dragged Jocko to them as well. Between the two of them, they kept the General from bleeding to death. Your husband is a stubborn man, Mrs. Redmond. He promised you he would come back and he is trying his best to do just that."

"Then there is hope." With Whitman's assistance, they stood. "Thank you for coming. Please have Beulah give you a room so that you may clean up and then have Lizbet prepare you a hot meal. I will start gathering my things and try to explain this to Emily."

"Thank you, ma’am. I can stay in town with the garrison if that would be easier for you."

"No, not at all. We have more than enough room for a dear friend such as yourself."

"Then I will attend to my own needs. Reg and Beulah will take care of me, and I will be ready for you tomorrow at dawn. The train is due at the station at seven."

Rebecca nodded and turned on her heel. She knew where she would find Em. Standing outside Charlie's office door she took a deep breath and gather herself together. Opening the door she found Tess and Emily playing by the fire. Em was putting together a wooden puzzle Jeremiah had carved for her with the knife Duncan had given him. She looked over to see Charlie and Andrew sleeping quite peacefully in their respective bassinets.

"Tess, I need to speak with Emily. Could you leave us for a few minutes?"

"Yes, ma’am. I will be in the kitchen with Sarah if you need me, ma’am." Tess could see that Rebecca had been crying. She knew that Sarah and Beulah were her best sources of information.

Rebecca sat down in front of the fire with her daughter and opened her arms. Emily giggled and crawled right into her lap. "Hello, my little darling."

"‘Lo, Mama. See Jermia toy!"

"I see, sweetheart. It was very nice of him to make you that toy. I know it is one of your favorites."

Em looked at Rebecca and could see the tear tracks on her face. "Mama sad?"

"No, my little darling. Mama is not sad. Mama is happy. I have found out news of your Papa."

"Papa. Papa! Papa come home?"

"Yes, Papa will be coming home. But Papa is far from home and Mama must go get him and bring him home."

Emily’s face grew its familiar thundercloud. "Mama go away? No. Mama, no go. Papa come home."

"Emily, Mama has to go get Papa. He is a long way from home. You do not want him to get lost do you?"

Emily assumed a look of long-suffering patience. Obviously, she had to explain this very evident fact to the silly grownup Mama. "Papa gwownup. Papa smawt. Come home witout Mama."

"Yes, Em, Papa is very smart, but Papa has been hurt. So Mama has to go get him to make him feel better."

"Papa has booboo? Oh. Mama go fix booboo?"

Rebecca smiled. "Yes, Mama has to go fix Papa's booboo. Then Mama will bring Papa home."

"Papa home good! How long?" Em looked at Rebecca suspiciously.

"I do not know my little darling, but I promise you this, it will be just as quickly as we can. We want to be home with you and your brothers. Now I have a favor to ask of my very big girl."

"Yes, Mama?"

"I need you to help Tess care for your brothers while I am gone. You need to be the lady of the house. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mama. Em big girl. Em two."

"Yes I know. So you promise to be a good girl and help while Mama is gone?"

Em stood up in front of Rebecca and nodded solemnly. "Em good. Em pwomise."

--*--

Rebecca sat by the fire in their room, holding the Bible that she and Charlie had read from when he had first arrived. She was exhausted and yet far too nervous to sleep. She wanted morning to come and she wanted to be on her way.

She looked over to the big bed, wishing Charlie were there that very moment so she could crawl into the safety that was their love and sleep the night through. She slipped from the chair; kneeling near the window she looked at the clear sky and the bright moon and she laced her hands together.

"Dear God, please, please allow my Charlie to live. You, more than anyone, know what a kind, good person you have created. We need her here with us. Please, do not take her from those of us who love her so deeply. Amen."

She waited there for a moment, continuing to look out the window. Just as she was getting up, a falling star streaked across the sky as if it was an answer from the Almighty Himself.

--*--

Saturday, April 15, 1865

Mr. Whitman was up and ready at first light, just as he had promised. Rebecca was also ready, with a small handbag her only luggage.

"Mrs. Redmond, do you have all you need?"

"Everything except my husband, Mr. Whitman. Let us go."

"After you, ma’am. Major Byrnes has sent a trap for us. It is already outside."

Rebecca led the way; a trooper took her bag and then helped her in. Mr. Whitman took a seat next to her; she reached over and took his hand. "Thank you for being with me."

"Jocko wanted to come, but he could not bring himself to leave his 'Gen'l Charlie'. And Richard would have come himself, but Sheridan has him running like a rat in a trap. I was the obvious choice, since Elizabeth cannot leave him."

"I really do appreciate it. It is nice to have a friend close at times like these."

"I am honored, ma’am. And I felt strongly that you should have a friend. General Grant was kind enough to offer his own train, as he is occupied with settling the surrender still."

"I am grateful this is over. I just hope I can have Charlie home again. I hope we are not too late."

"I have to tell you, ma’am, having seen him the day he was injured, I am amazed at his strength. He lost so much blood I was sure he would not survive the night."

Rebecca closed her eyes against the image of wounds she could only imagine. "Charlie is very strong and determined. If he has survived this long, I believe there is a good chance he will recover."

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree, Miss Rebecca. But there is a terrible infection we have not been able to control. That, the fever from it and the loss of blood taken together, is making it very hard for him."

Rebecca chewed her lip then turned to face her friend. "Mr. Whitman, I know that Elizabeth is a fine doctor and she is doing everything she thinks will help. But has she tried using honey?"

"Honey? No, I believe they have been using salt water washes."

"Honey is very effective in fighting infections. My mother absolutely refused to use anything else. On the farm we used it on everything from people to horses. However, it is considered folk medicine. I do not know if Elizabeth will be willing to try it."

"Miss Rebecca, the General is dear to both of you, in your own ways. If you have something that will help, I am sure she will try it. She has already tried everything she knows."

--*--

The rest of the trip was reasonably uneventful. General Grant had obtained priority clearance for their train. With that, they managed an average of thirty miles an hour, excellent time by any standards.

They arrived at Appomattox Station at about noon. Rebecca looked around at the land that was freshly torn and ravaged by the battle seven days earlier. She looked to Whitman as they dismounted from the train onto the shell pocked station platform. "Was this the place?"

"Yes."

"How many died here?"

"I honestly do not know. The battle stretched out along about seven miles of track, with both Charlie and General Custer’s forces. I know Dr. Walker and General Custer’s surgeon both had their hands full."

"A waste. A terrible waste. Come, Mr. Whitman, help me find my husband."

Whitman looked down the road to the east and saw a wagon approaching. Squinting in the bright light, he saw a figure he thought was Polk at the reins. "It seems that Colonel Polk has sent a wagon, ma’am."

"So it does." Rebecca walked toward the wagon. When it stopped, Richard jumped down and immediately he and Rebecca shared a hug.

"Richard, is Charlie..."

"No. He is still alive."

"Thank God."

"Let me take you to him. But, Rebecca, you need to be prepared. He has been horribly injured."

"I know. Mr. Whitman described the extent of his injuries for me. I do not care about that, Richard. I only want to be with him."

"You may have to convince him of that. He has been delirious, but all he talks about, I am told, is how he is not... not the husband you deserve. I do not know if that is the result of this injury or if it is the fever talking."

"It does not matter. We can help him overcome this."

"Rebecca, you need to understand. These are truly ugly injuries. Elizabeth wanted to amputate the leg at the hip."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I understand. It does not matter, Richard. Now please take me to my husband."

They rode down the road in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts. As they approached the camp, they came upon a scene of turmoil.

Richard stood on the running board, yelling for order. Finally, he understood. "The President has been shot. Lincoln is dead."

Rebecca's head dropped. Her chin to her chest, she said a quick prayer and took a deep calming breath before starting to climb out of the wagon.

Jocko had been waiting for her. He sprang to her side and lifted her down, ready to escort her to Charlie. "Thank God, you are here." Lincoln and politics could wait.

At the back of the wagon, Walt Whitman quietly began to cry.

"If I could have come last night, I would have. Where is he?"

"I will take you to him, but before you go in, Dr. Walker says you need to get cleaned up."

"All right. Anything."

Jocko lead her to the officers’ mess, where he had partitioned off an area and had warm, boiled water and soap waiting for her. "Get washed, and put on one of the aprons I have here for you. Then I will take you to his tent. We set up a separate tent for him, rather than the usual surgery. It is clean and private. I have had a cot put in it for you, as well."

"Thank you Jocko. I will only be a moment."

As she washed up, Jocko called to her, "Sergeant Jamison wants to know if you want something to eat? Or some tea before you go over?"

"Could you have it taken to his tent? I really just want to be with Charlie. Everything else can wait."

"Yes, certainly. I will tell him to have a tray sent over."

"Thank you." Rebecca quickly scrubbed her arms and face, using the damp cloth to remove or dampen down any dirt that might be clinging to her clothing and then she slipped the apron over her head, tying it off before returning to Jocko. "Shall we?"

"If you wish. Are you sure you are ready?"

"I am more than ready, Jocko, and if I am not taken to my husband soon, I will tear this camp apart tent by tent until I find him."

"Yes, ma’am." Jocko offered her his arm and escorted her to the large tent set off from the rest of the camp, shaded by old oak trees, and currently guarded by Duncan, even though his arm was neatly bandaged and in a sling.

Rebecca stopped and touched the young man. "Duncan, are you hurt very badly?"

"Mi..Mi..Miss Rebecca. Umm. No, ma’am. Just a scr..scr..scratch. Ma’am? I am sorry. I tried."

"Tried?"

Duncan bowed his head. "Yes, ma’am. I tried, but there was so much blood. And I could not……"

"Duncan," She ran her hand over his good arm. "I am sure you did everything correctly and that I have you to thank for the fact that my husband is alive."

He hung his head even lower. "No, ma’am. It was Jocko and Jack, not me."

"I do not believe that and I do not want you to believe that either. I am sure when he is able, the General with thank you himself."

"He called your name, you know."

"No, I did not know. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for being there to hear it."

"It was the last thing I heard him say." Duncan looked up at her, tears running down his cheeks. "I wish it had been me."

Rebecca moved forward and wrapped her arm around him. "You should not speak like that, Duncan. I do not like it and the General certainly would not like it. You did what you had to do and I am convinced you saved my husband's life. For that I am grateful to you, always. Now stop saying these things and be glad you are both alive." She gave him a hug and pulled back with a smile. "That is an order by proxy. When the General is capable, I will have him reaffirm it."

Duncan smiled a rather watery smile and pulled himself to attention. With a left handed salute, he responded, "Yes, ma’am, Mrs. General, ma’am."

Rebecca patted his cheek. "Good boy, Duncan." She turned and opened the tent flap as she stepped inside she got her first good look at Charlie. Without taking another step she turned to the side of the tent and promptly vomited.

Chapter 34

Saturday, April 15, 1865

Elizabeth looked up and glared at Rebecca. She was working on a particularly nasty and sensitive part of Charlie’s wound, trying to save a vital tendon from being destroyed by the invasive infection. "If you must do that, at least take it outside."

Rebecca gasped and gratefully took a cup of water Jocko thrust into her hand. She rinsed her mouth, spitting into a bucket near the door. "I am sorry." She took a tentative step toward Charlie. "How is he?" She wanted to cry but she knew now was not the time, now was the time to be strong.

Elizabeth continued to focus on the wound she was cleaning. "To be honest, I am not sure why he is still alive, but he is, and as long as he continues to fight, we have a chance to save him. I just have not yet found the source of the continued infection. So I keep looking." She glanced up for a moment, and then barked an order. "Jocko, get someone to clean that mess up, please."

Rebecca took another step forward. Elizabeth's appearance frightened her almost as much as Charlie's. Charlie's wounds and injuries were physical; Elizabeth's were clearly emotional. "Can...can...I hold his hand?"

Elizabeth sighed deeply. "Rebecca, if there is anything you can do to give him strength, please do. I am sorry I snapped at you. It is just that I am so tired and have tried so hard. I swear I do not know what else to do. I just cannot seem to beat this infection."

Rebecca found a crate and sat down on Charlie’s other side . She took his hand. With her other hand she gently ran her fingers through his hair. "I am here, my love." She leaned over and gently kissed his fevered brow. Then she looked at Elizabeth. "If it is not too presumptuous of me, I would like to make a suggestion."

"I will take any suggestion you have. Jocko came up with washing the wounds with boiled brine. It has helped some."

"I know it may not make much sense, but when I was growing up, my mother always used honey to draw out infections. I never knew her to use anything else."

Elizabeth frowned and looked at Charlie’s wound. Somehow she knew there still had to be something from the shell left in the wound that was causing this continued infection. But finding some small shard in that mess of chopped meat was almost impossible. Anything that would tend to draw it out would help. "Would you alternate it with the brine washes?"

"Yes, honey applied to warm soaked cloths, left just long enough to draw the infection to the top, then cleansed with the salt solution or possibly alcohol."

"Or perhaps a hot honey compress? Left on for say half an hour at a time? Then cleaned with a warm brine wash to flush out anything the honey drew? We would need heat to melt the honey, I would think."

"Yes, that is how it is done, for the most part. My mother used this cure on every living thing on our farm at one time or another."

Jocko spoke up. "Yes, damn me, me mother used honey for every scratch and scrape we had as children. Seemed to work too. I am just sorry I di’ not remember it."

Elizabeth looked directly into Rebecca’s eyes. "Do you think you could stand to help with it? Charlie is in a pretty bad way, and these are ugly wounds. The stench of the infection is nauseating. It would be very hard, and I do not want to ask you to do anything you do not feel comfortable with."

"Elizabeth, I will do whatever you or Charlie need. I did not come here to say goodbye. I came here to take him home."

"Good. Come over and sit beside me. I will show you how to clean and dress each of his wounds."

Rebecca nodded, then pushed up the sleeves of her dress as she moved next to Elizabeth. She took a deep breath, clenched her jaw and vowed not to vomit again. She also commanded herself not to cry at the sight of Charlie's wounds. Mrs. Redmond was resolute. She was going to save Charlie's life.

Elizabeth was working on Charlie’s hip and thigh. From halfway between his knee and hip up almost to his waist, his right side was raw. He was missing a chunk about the size of Rebecca’s hand of the heavy muscle in his thigh. At least the lower part of the wound was clean and showing signs of beginning to heal. A large chunk of his buttock was also gone, but this site was angry, inflamed and infected. There were several pocket of pus; the wound was oozing and stank of infection. Elizabeth carefully opened the pockets of puss with the tip of a small scalpel, drained the infection, and rinsed the area with warm brine. "When I finish, you can make a honey compress for it, if you would."

"Of course." She looked to Jocko. "Can you please go find some honey? I believe Charlie may have had some in his personal things. It will be in a black clay jar. Lizbet sent it with him, along with a few other comforts from home."

"Yes, ma’am. I know what you are speaking of. But, I think that we have some in the mess. I can save your special honey for his tea when he can have some. I will be right back with it, and with more boiling water."

"Thank you." Rebecca then set to finding clean cloths that could be used to make the warm honey poultice. She glanced back to watch Elizabeth open yet another pocket of infection which ran red and yellow with pus. She saw Elizabeth clench her jaw as she took a small cloth and dabbed out the mess that was so significant it was running freely onto the sheets.

She found a package of boiled lint in the surgical tray. Sure that she would have what she needed, she turned back to Elizabeth. "Let me finish. You look exhausted."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. You need to learn how to do this if you are to care for him."

"Just tell me what to do." She took the seat Elizabeth vacated and picked up the scalpel. "I am ready."

"Look for the places that look shiny and rounded. The shine is from the flesh being drawn tight from the infection underneath. Make a small incision, perhaps a finger’s width long, and let it drain. If you can, press on either side of the lump to push out any additional puss." Elizabeth looked at Rebecca, who had paled noticeably. "It does not hurt as much as you might think, and it feels much better afterwards. The pressure and heat of the infection is terribly painful."

Rebecca nodded, wondering briefly if she could actually do this. Then she remembered she had helped her father do similar things to injured horses, and if she could do it for an animal, she could certainly do it for someone she loved. She steadied her hand and made the first cut, being very careful to do exactly what Elizabeth had told her. "Like this?"

"Good, but you need to cut a little deeper –– you will actually feel your knife break through to the infection. It is considerably less dense than the muscle tissue."

"All right." She tried again, making the cut a little deeper and a little longer. When she did, the cyst broke open covering her fingers in sticky yellow fluid.

"That is exactly right. You go ahead, I will just watch to make sure you get everything."

Carefully, Rebecca dabbed at the wound, cleaning it out and applying pressure to force out more of the infection. Very soon she was so involved in her job that everything else, including the foul smell, seemed to fade from her consciousness.

Jocko returned more quickly than she expected, or perhaps time had passed more quickly than she noticed.

"I have plenty of good, fresh honey, Miss Rebecca. No sugar crystals in it at all, and it has been strained to get any comb out. And I brought a small a pot of boiled water, too, to make the compresses. My mother used to pour about a cup of honey into about two cups of hot water, then soak the lint in it to make a compress. Do you want me to prepare it?"

"Yes please." She answered without looking up from the next area that she was working on. As she made another cut, she felt the blade catch on something. "Elizabeth, I think there is something here. Can you give me more light?"

Elizabeth reached into her surgical kit and pulled out a small mirror, which she used to focus a beam of light on the small incision that Rebecca had made. Tersely, she commanded, "Expand the incision." She pulled a pair of forceps out and used them to spread the incision. There was a small sliver of something the color of the red clay mud; it was almost the color of the flesh around it. With a pair of tweezers, she carefully pulled it out of the flesh in which it was embedded. It was a long sliver of half rotten wood.

"Oh, God. How could I have missed this?"

"Elizabeth, look at it. It is the same color as everything else. I would not have seen it. I only found it because the scalpel touched it while I was cutting."

"So do you think that each one of these pockets of infection may be hiding a bit of debris?"

Rebecca chuckled. "Me? You are the doctor."

Elizabeth smiled, possibly for the first time in over a week. "Right now, I am feeling more like the fumbling fool than the doctor. Let us finish cleaning up his wounds, get him a bit more stabilized, then do some serious probing."

"All right. Whatever you think it best."

--*--

Rebecca sat next to the bed, holding Charlie's good hand and praying. She placed a cool cloth on his forehead, hoping to help bring down the fever that still gripped his body. She, Elizabeth and Jocko had spent two and a half hours flushing the wound and taking turns pulling out small pieces of wood, that had embedded themselves deeply into his flesh.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Charlie. You need to get better and come home. Your daughter misses you and there are two baby boys who want to meet their Papa. Please, Charlie."

A soft moan came from the recumbent form, and Charlie’s good hand twitched, as if reaching for something.

"I am here darling." Rebecca's voice was hopeful as she leaned closer to his cheek, giving it a kiss. "I am right here."

Charlie’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked at her, blank and unrecognizing for a moment, then murmured, "‘Becca?"

"Yes, my love." She kissed his cheek again and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"Dream of you. Always you." He smiled and relaxed some.

"And I of you. We are together now, Charlie, and I will not leave here without you."

He tossed his head and shifted in the bed, trying to get a little more comfortable. "Hurts. So much. Please make it stop."

"I know it hurts my love, we are doing everything we can. We are going to make you better. I promise."

He stirred again, clenching her hand convulsively. She almost cried when she felt how weak his grip was. "Say goodbye for me."

"No one to say goodbye to, my love. You are going to be just fine and I am going to take you home to our farm and our babies."

"Home? Home. Becca. Sweet Becca. Miss you so." He smiled and closed his eyes.

Rebecca leaned over, allowing tears to fall for the first time, as she realized that he did not understand she was there with him. "It is all right, Charlie. I am not leaving. I will be right here with you, until I can take you home. Rest now my darling. Just rest."

"Rest. Yes. Rest." He turned his head into the hand stroking his hair, closed his eyes and lay still. The only sound in the room was the slight rumble of his breathing and the soft sound of Rebecca’s tears.

--*--

Dusk had dimmed the light in the tent to soft shadows when Elizabeth came in, followed by a trooper carrying a tray with two steaming bowls and a pot of tea.

"I thought you might need some food, dear. You have had a long day. I know I am starving. How is Charlie doing?"

"He was talking awhile ago. I thought he was talking to me and then I realized that he did not know who he was talking to." She reached for the bowl. "Thank you." She took a bite and watched as Elizabeth settled down with her. "Is it true? Is President Lincoln dead?"

"Evidently, yes. The telegraph said that he was shot in the head last night by some actor while he was at the theater and died today."

"How horrible. It would seem his dream was prophetic after all. I feel terribly sorry for Mrs. Lincoln."

"I feel more concerned for us, dear. Already, there is a great deal of anger at the South for his death."

"I am sure. What do they know about the man who shot him?"

"Evidently it was one of the Booth boys. John Wilkes, I believe. Ironic, since his father was on stage at that theater not four months ago."

"Oh, Lord, it was his father Charlie and I saw while we were in Washington. We attended a performance at Ford's Theater."

"Well, of the children, Wilkes was the least talented. I always thought he was trying to outdo his brother Edwin –– and usually failed. Perhaps this is his way of being famous. Pretty poor solution, in my opinion."

"Did they catch him? Do you know?"

"I believe they are still looking for him. Personally, I hope they catch him and he burns in hell. They will surely execute him for what he has done."

"I do not doubt that. Hopefully, that will be the last of the killing from this awful mess." Rebecca looked to Charlie and replaced the cloth on his forehead. "It has cost us all too much."

Elizabeth finished the last bit of stew in her bowl. "Well, this is just the beginning. What will it take to put this land back to work? To repair the damage? I have seen fields that were so soaked with blood and torn up with canister shot, I doubt anything will ever grow there again."

"To be honest, Elizabeth, I have little care about that. The South brought these problems on itself. I just want to make Charlie better and take him home. I have little sympathy for these fools who did not know when all was lost, who did not have the brains God gave a nanny goat, to know when to stop. They should have stopped months ago and because they did not, look at what they did to Charlie."

Elizabeth was a bit startled. She had seen Rebecca angry, offended, annoyed, lost, depressed, and downright ready to kill Mrs. Williams. She had never seen this deep, despairing bitterness before. "My dear, it has been a long and very difficult day. You have a long, hard road ahead of you nursing Charlie back to health. Can I give you something to help you sleep? Jocko and Samuelson will take turns watching over Charlie tonight."

"No. No, I want to be able to come if he needs me." She gestured to the other side of the tent, where a blanket had been strung. "Jocko has provided me with a place to sleep when I get tired, but I do not want to leave Charlie."

"I did not mean for you to leave him, dear. I just thought you would need some sleep sometime, and the men will be happy to watch and call you if he wakes."

Rebecca looked at Charlie, whose face twitched with pain. "He does not know I am here. I want him to know I am here."

Elizabeth’s heart almost broke at how forlorn Rebecca looked as she said those words. "My dear, he is delirious. Now that we have dug out all the debris from his wounds, he should start to improve. At some level, I think he does know you are here. He is trying more, trying to cooperate, to stay still when we work on him. His hand must hurt as much or more than his leg, but he held it still while you worked on it today. He has been trying to pull it away from me."

Rebecca nodded and could no longer be strong. The tears began to fall.

--*--

Sunday, April 16, 1865

After letting her cry herself out, Elizabeth convinced Rebecca that Charlie would probably sleep through the night. Reluctantly, she accepted a mild sedative from the concerned physician, and settled onto the cot Jocko had made up for her.

She slept late the next morning after a restless night broken by needing to get up repeatedly and check on Charlie. Jocko, having taken over from Samuelson sometime in the middle of the night, let her sleep.

The first thing she heard that morning was Charlie’s voice, talking to Jocko.

"I dreamed of her yesterday, Jocko."

"Dreamed, Charlie?"

"I dreamed of Rebecca."

Slowly, she stepped out from behind the blanket and approached his bed. "It was not a dream, my love." She took his hand and smiled at him.

Charlie looked up at her smiling face, floating above him and nearly passed out. "Rebecca?"

"Yes, my dear. I came as soon as I could." She ran her fingers over his forehead and through his hair, relieved beyond measure that his fever seemed to be going down.

Charlie closed his eyes and just savored her touch for a moment. Then his eyes popped open. "How bad is it?"

"You have been wounded, you know that, but it is nothing we cannot deal with. All that matters is that you are alive." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "And the war is over, Charlie. When you are well, we can go home."

"The war is over?" A look of vast relief came over his face.

"Yes Charlie, it is over. Lee surrendered."

"Thank God. Oh, Rebecca, if you had seen those men?"

"I know darling, but it is over now. All we have to worry about is making you well enough to go home. You have a little girl who is desperate to have her Papa home and you have two fine healthy sons waiting for you."

"How is Em? I miss the little imp."

"She is growing like a weed. She talks of you constantly and she is waiting for us to come home. She misses her Papa."

"And the boys? Charles and Andrew?"

"Beautiful and healthy, waiting for you to come home so they can be properly christened."

"Who is taking care of them?"

Rebecca chuckled. "Well in reality, Tess and Ginny, but Miss Emily thinks she is in charge."

"Ginny?" Charlie was tiring; as much as he wanted to know how the children were doing, he could feel the energy draining from him.

"The wet nurse." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Rest, dear heart. We can talk later."

He closed his eyes for a few minutes, and then opened them to look directly into Rebecca’s eyes. "Tell me. How bad is it?"

"You are going to be fine, my love. We will get you through."

His hand closed around her wrist. "Tell me. I need to know."

She took her seat next to him. "It is bad, Charlie. You have lost a lot of mass in your thigh and buttock. You were wounded in the shoulder and you lost two fingers on your right hand. You have been fighting infection for ten days. But it does not matter. What matters is that you are alive."

Charlie laid there, eyes closed, trying to absorb the implications of her stark statement. A few fingers he could live without, but what about the shoulder and how much mass was gone from his leg? Finally, bleakly, he asked, "Will I be able to walk?"

"Yes. Yes, you will be able to walk. Elizabeth did everything she could, Charlie. You asked her not to take your leg and she did not, though she thought she might have to. You will be able to get up and about again."

"Will I be a cripple?"

She sighed. "Charlie, it does depend on your definition of cripple. Will you be able to run your circuit at the farm? No, probably not. Will you be able to run the farm? Yes. Will you be able to be a father to the children? Yes, without question."

Charlie was quiet for a long time. Finally, he spoke again. "You know, I thought I had died. I remember calling your name. I remember dreaming of you."

"You called and I came. I will be here with you until it is time to take you home. Then I shall do just that and we will begin the life we have planned."

Charlie murmured, "Love you," then closed his eyes and slept again.

--*--

Monday, April 24, 1865

Elizabeth had slipped a small amount of laudanum into Rebecca’s tea that morning, hoping the exhausted woman would go to sleep. Over the last few days, Rebecca had sat, quietly washing Charlie’s wounds with alternating washes of warm honey and salt water every hour, and bathing his fevered forehead with cool water in the interim. The doctor was concerned at her friend’s refusal to leave Charlie and finally decided to take matters into her own hands. She slipped into the tent in the early afternoon to find Charlie’s fever down for the first time in days.

She sat down on her stool and took Charlie's injured hand into her own to check on the condition of the bandages.

Charlie groaned and his eyelids fluttered open. He laid there, a grimace on his face, watching Elizabeth for some sign of his condition.

"Welcome back dear friend. I am not going to bother to ask how you feel. I am sure I know." She smiled at him and then went back to inspecting the bandage, quite pleased to see that the wound had stopped seeping and the bandage was still clean.

Charlie, his throat dry and raw from days of fever and slow force-feeding, croaked, "Hurts. How bad?"

"It is not pretty, Charlie. I will not lie to you. You have been severally severely injured, but we did manage to save your leg."

Charlie groaned involuntarily as Elizabeth adjusted the splints and bandages on his hand. "Fingers?"

"You lost two fingers on your right hand and I suspect there will be limited use of the ones that remain, but you also managed to keep your hand. How much do you remember?"

"Most of it. Shoulder, leg, hand. All bad?"

"Charlie, the wounds are substantial, but you are alive, and after time to recover, I believe you will find you are still going to live a long, happy life. Granted you will have limitations, but nothing you cannot overcome."

"Still ride?"

"I think so. You may have to have a special saddle made to accommodate your leg for a while. You are going to find your knee is somewhat stiff. With proper care, I do not foresee any severe problems."

"Walk? Dance? Run?"

She chuckled. "Yes, you will walk. I am sure you and Rebecca will find a way to dance; I have no doubt about that. As for running, I doubt you will ever run again, Charlie."

Charlie lay there and thought about that for a bit. Then gathered himself through the pain and asked one more question. "Scars. How bad?"

Elizabeth chewed her lip for a moment. Then decided the truth was the best, "The scars are going to be severe."

Charlie closed his eyes. Something went out of him in that moment. "Hurts. Bad. Real bad."

"I know." She scratched her neck. "Would you like something for the pain? I can place you on a schedule that will keep you unaware of the pain, until your body has had time to heal a little more."

The idea of being disconnected from the world was very appealing. What would Rebecca think of a scarred, disabled, fraudulent man? It was bad enough that they would have to maintain the fiction of man and woman, but now, how repulsive would Charlie’s scarred and mutilated body be to her? "Yes. Out. No pain, please." No thoughts either.

"All right." She patted his arm. "I will prepare the medication and be right back." She left the tent to fetch her bag and the supplies she would need to take care of her friend's pain.

Charlie lay in his bed and carefully examined each area of pain in his body. His shoulder felt like a falling tree had crushed it. His flank felt like it had been flayed by a butcher, chopped for sausage, and cooked over a hot fire. He knew that he was missing fingers on his right hand, but he could feel them all and they all felt like someone had attached red-hot daggers to each one. He could not imagine what he must look like. But whatever it was, he knew it was ugly. No longer would he be Rebecca’s ‘‘Greek goddess.’ Rebecca had said that the beauty of Charlie’s body took her breath away. Any beauty Charlie may have had was gone, torn away in a blast of hot metal and rock. Now, Charlie’s little voice taunted, Your body will do what it should have done in the first place –– repulse her.

When Elizabeth returned, Charlie eagerly swallowed the slightly bitter brew she offered him. Oblivion was welcome for many reasons.

--*--

Rebecca sat, holding Charlie's hand, wishing he would come to and not too happy that he was being kept sedated. Elizabeth entered the tent with a pot of tea in one hand and a small kettle of soup in the other.

"Elizabeth, I really would prefer if we could let Charlie come out of sedation. He seems half dead like this."

"I do understand, dear, but he was in so much pain. Having that much muscle exposed is agony, and the hand is not much better. Also, if we are to get him home, the only way to do it is to sedate him. Heavily."

Rebecca sighed, nodding and wiping away tears at the same time. "When do you think I will be able to take him home?"

"Well, now that his fever has broken, I do not see any reason to delay. General Grant has offered his train car to carry him. That will make it easier. And I think you would be much happier to have him at home than here."

"Of course I would. I hope being home will help him get better quickly, too. Em will be so excited to have him home. It is going to be difficult to make her understand that time with Papa will be limited at first."

"You realize he will have to be unconscious for literally the entire trip? And that Em may be very frightened when her papa is as incapacitated as her mama was?"

"I know, but Charlie is going to get better. Constance never had that chance."

Elizabeth thought for a moment. She had seen serious depression set in after major injuries before, and was concerned that Charlie might be inclined toward it. "Rebecca, there is something else you may have to deal with."

"Yes?"

"It is not uncommon for men who have been very badly injured to become terribly melancholy. They may feel their injuries make them somehow less than they were. I have seen them literally turn their faces to the wall. I pray that Charlie will not go that way, but I wanted to warn you."

"I think, unfortunately, it would be very easy for Charlie to do that, but I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening. I only hope I am enough."

"Then I will see if I can arrange for the train car for tomorrow."

--*--

Tuesday, April 25, 1865

The next morning was hellish. Elizabeth and Samuelson needed to stay with the regiment; there were too many injured men to care for to allow them to leave with Charlie. Whitman, as a civilian volunteer, chose to go with the General and his wife; however, he was in deep mourning over Lincoln’s death and the frightening rumors that were circulating as a result of that terrible act. Duncan, because he was already on injury leave and Jocko, whose duty was to stay with his General, managed the logistical details.

Every thing that could be draped with mourning banners showed black. Every man in the regiment wore a black armband. Even the train car had black bunting draped on its handrails. The entire army had gone into mourning for Lincoln.

Elizabeth had prepared Charlie as well as she could. He was carefully strapped to his cot, and heavily sedated. The men of the regiment had taken turns hand carrying his stretcher to keep from jostling the injured man.

The Doctor had less success in preparing Rebecca. She was shaken at how pale Charlie was in the light of day, and how thin he had become in the days since his injury. His good hand, once wiry and strong, lay on the gray blanket looking almost skeletal and nearly transparent.

"Elizabeth, do you think it is safe to take him home? I am not sure he is strong enough; maybe we should wait another day or so."

Elizabeth looked at Charlie critically, and then turned to Rebecca. "I honestly think he will be better off in a real bed, in a proper room and with good food, and tender care than he will here in a tent with a dirt floor, in an army camp that is rapidly becoming a refugee center. Take him home, Rebecca. He needs to be there and so do you."

Rebecca nodded, and then embraced her friend. "Thank you for everything. I know he would not be alive now if it were not for you. Promise me you will come as soon as you can."

"Absolutely –– the very first minute I can get away from here, I will. And I believe you and I have a wedding to plan. I am just sorry Richard could not be here to see you off."

"Give him my love and thank him as well." With a deep sigh she turned and allowed Jocko to help her aboard the train.

Duncan was sitting at the far end of the car, beside the bed they had set up for Charlie, already positioned to watch over the heavily drugged man. The sling he wore to cradle his injured arm made things awkward, but he had braced himself to keep Charlie stable while the train jerked as it started. Whitman was sitting at the table in the middle of the car, with a pencil in hand and a notebook open before him, mumbling "my captain, my captain" to himself.

Jocko settled Rebecca in a soft chair, kneeling in front of it. "Miss Rebecca, I want to say that I know things are not going to be easy with getting Gen’l Charlie back up on his feet, but I promise you, I will do whatever may be required to see to it."

"Thank you, Jocko. I know I can count on you. Charlie and I need our friends close to us right now."

"I wired ahead to Major Byrnes to have transport waiting for us when we get in. And I warned him of how badly injured the General is. He has a team of men who have volunteered to carry him home, and a carriage will be waiting for you. I think carrying Charlie will be less stressful for him than bouncing around in the back of a wagon."

Rebecca glanced at Charlie, who was indeed sleeping soundly. "He inspires great loyalty."

"He does indeed. There are many men in this and his previous regiments who are alive because of what he does. He takes care of his men first, and they will take care of him."

Rebecca stood, patting Jocko's shoulder as she did. Taking a moment to get the movement of the train, she walked to Charlie and took Duncan's place at her husband's side. She took his good hand and leaned over, placing a kiss on his forehead. "We will be home soon, darling."

A particularly hard lurch tossed the car a bit to the side, and Charlie groaned in pain, even through the laudanum-induced stupor.

Rebecca stood and covered his chest gently with her own body, to give him a feeling of being protected. "It is all right, my love, you are going to be fine." She placed a kiss on his cheek, allowing her lips to linger for a moment.

The trip continued, a hell for Rebecca, with each hard lurch or stop bringing a groan of pain from Charlie. Yet the drugs kept him too sedated to talk, or to even acknowledge her presence. By the time they reached Culpeper, six hours later, Rebecca was emotionally and physically exhausted. Shortly before they arrived, Whitman gave Charlie another dose of laudanum to ease the painful transition from the train to Redmond Stables and his own bed.

--*--

Charlie’s men had carried his litter home, in a relay over the course of the three miles from the station to the house. They knew the slow, steady pace of walking would be less traumatic for him that being moved in a wagon. Arriving at the house, Rebecca allowed the men in the last relay to carry Charlie up the stairs to their room.

As soon as they had been seen coming, the house was alive with people. They immediately overwhelmed Rebecca. She ordered the troopers upstairs and sent Jocko and Whitman to settle Charlie into bed; they were the only ones she could trust.

As she watched them take him upstairs, she was immediately besieged by the staff and Emily.

"Mama!"

Rebecca smiled through her own exhaustion and knelt down to greet her daughter. "Hello, my little darling."

"Mama home." Em wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s neck, gracing her with a kiss to the cheek."

"Yes. Mama is home. Home to stay."

"Papa?" Em looked expectantly behind Rebecca and then around the room. "Papa?"

"Papa is upstairs."

"Em go!" She turned and started the effort of getting up the steps when Rebecca caught her and sat on the step with her. She pulled Em into her lap and then looked to Beulah, Tess, Lizbet, Ginny and Reg who were all waiting expectantly for information. When the train had arrived draped in black, a rider had rushed to the house and told everyone that Miss Rebecca was back but that the General must be dead.

"Emily, your Papa is very sick."

"No. Papa well."

"Em, I am sorry, but Papa is very sick."

At that moment, Em burst out crying. "Papa die!"

"No, no, Papa is not going to die, but he needs time to get well."

"Mama sick. Mama die. Papa sick. Papa die."

The look on the little girl’s face was tearing Rebecca up. She wanted to take Em up and prove to her that Charlie would be all right, but at the moment she was not entirely sure of that herself. "Em, has Mama ever lied to you?"

"No."

"I am not going to start now. Papa will be fine, but he needs to rest. I promise, I will take you to see him as soon as I can." Tears filled Rebecca’s eyes, partly from fear and partly from exhaustion. She was simply too tired to think clearly. "Em, Mama needs to change. Go with Tess and we will go see Papa later when he has had a chance to rest."

Em looked into her Mama’s face and knew it would be best if she did what she was asked. She sensed now might not be the time to have a fit. "Yes, Mama."

Rebecca kissed her daughter and handed her off to Tess. "How are the boys?"

"Fine, Miss Rebecca." Ginny stepped forward. "They are just fine. Sleeping."

"Thank goodness for that." She addressed all of them. "I need to go see to the General. I will be down later to tell you everything."

She stood and headed up the steps, with her staff watching every tired step. They were worried about their mistress. She looked as though she had been through hell. It was obvious that she had not slept properly and that she had not been eating, and had not had a proper bath in a very long time. Lizbet looked to her family then back up the steps. "Miss Rebecca, please wait. Let me come help you." And with that the young woman was up the steps right behind Rebecca.

--*--

Wednesday, April 26, 1865

Very slowly, Charlie woke. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton batting, every part of his body ached, and it felt as if the devil himself was roasting his entire right side. It seemed to him that the field hospital had become far more comfortable than he remembered from the past. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. He realized he was lying in his own bed, on the side that Rebecca usually slept on. "My God, I cannot be home. This must be a dream. A horrible dream." He spoke aloud, trying to break out of this terrible, painful dream.

Jocko spoke from the chair he was sitting in by the window on the far side of the bed. "It is no dream, Gen’l C. You are home." The man rose and came toward the bed. "You were badly injured at Appomattox Station. Do you remember?"

"I remember being blown off my horse. Duncan was there. Then you and Jack were there. I thought I was going to die."

"You did not die, Gen’l. Dr. Walker did her best."

"I remember asking her to not take the leg."

Charlie lifted his bandaged hand. Agony tore through his shoulder from moving the arm. From the shape of the bandage, it was clear that part of the hand was missing. "Are you sure I am not dead and this is just my punishment?"

Jocko looked at his old friend with a mixture of sorrow and pity. "Charlie." He snorted. "It has been a long time since I have called you just Charlie." He cleared his throat. "Charlie, you have been very badly wounded. Half your hand was blown away. Your whole right side is a mess. You are missing a lot of muscle tissue, but you have no other broken bones and eventually, you will heal. You have to keep that in mind in the coming weeks."

"What do you mean?" Charlie tried to move his right leg. The pain was so intense he had to stifle a scream. And he failed to move the leg. When he could talk again, he panted, "Jesus, Jocko. Will I walk?"

"Maybe, with a cane."

Charlie closed his eyes. It was bad enough that he could not offer Rebecca a real life with a real man. Now she had a maimed cripple on her hands In a flat voice, he asked, "How did I get home?"

"We brought you home in General Grant’s train."

Charlie thought for a long time. While he lay there, Jocko carefully checked the bandages. There was no sign of seepage, so he left them.

"Where is Miss Rebecca?"

"Downstairs with the children, I believe."

"Where is she sleeping?"

"She used the davenport last night, so as not to disturb or hurt you."

"Jocko. Do me a favor?"

"Anything, Gen’l C."

"Set up a cot down in my office. I need to give Miss Rebecca her bed and a place to sleep in comfort. Do what you need to do to move me down there today."

"Charlie, do you think that is a good idea? Miss Rebecca is ––"

Charlie snapped. "Jocko, do not question me. Just get me moved as quickly as you can. And do not tell Miss Rebecca until it is done."

--*--

After putting Em down for her nap, with a promise they would see Papa when she woke, Rebecca went to check on Charlie. When she stepped into the room she was shocked to find the bed empty and Lizbet changing the sheets.

"Where is Charlie?"

"General Charlie asked Mister Jocko to move him to his office downstairs."

"What?"

"I do not know more than that, Miss Rebecca. They moved him, and then Mister Jocko told me to remake your bed with fresh linens."

Rebecca left the room. She was furious and upset, a very bad combination when it came to Rebecca Redmond; Jocko was about to get it with both barrels. "Jocko!" she yelled as she descended the stairs.

Jocko was on his way upstairs when he heard Miss Rebecca bellow. He hurried up the last steps and found her standing, hands on her hips, in the middle of the hall, looking very angry. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Would you care to tell me why you moved Charlie to his office?"

"Because, ma'am, he ordered me to. Said the bed was too soft, and that you needed a place to sleep in comfort."

"And you did not think to check with me first?" Rebecca was shaking now, partly from anger and partly from frustration. "How in the name of God am I suppose to care for him if he is down there?"

"Ma'am, he specifically asked that either Mr. Whitman or I take care of his wounds. He said he dinna want you to be dirtying your hands with his blood."

Rebecca stood shocked. She did not know how to respond to that. She had been taking care of Charlie for days already. "I need to talk to him."

"Yes, ma'am, I believe you do. I do not know what is wrong, but something is."

Rebecca marched down the stairs and knocked on Charlie’s door. "Charlie? It is Rebecca." She said needlessly. "May I come in?"

Silence met her knock.

She knocked again. "Charlie, please. Please let me come in. I need to see you. I need to talk to you."

More silence.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Going inside, she closed it gently behind her. "Charlie?"

Charlie lay on his cot, face turned toward the windows looking out on the back yard, down toward the pond.

He turned his head and looked at her as she entered. Very quietly, he said, "Hello, Rebecca."

She smiled and moved to the cot, kneeling down and placing her hand on his back. "Hello, darling. Please tell me why you had Jocko move you down here."

"You need your bed, and with me in this condition, it cannot be easy or pleasant for you to share it with me. The bed was too soft, and the things I need to take care of me are here in the winter kitchen. I thought being closer would be good. Easier. Simpler."

"I see. All right, I can accept that, but I had hoped to have you closer to the children. Em is begging to see you and you have yet to meet the boys."

Em. Em, who thought her Papa was the best man in the world. He could not let Em see him like this. "Rebecca, I do not have the energy to see Em. I do not want her seeing me like this. Ever."

"Charlie. Charlie, sweetheart. Em has missed you, she has cried for you nearly everyday. She will not care about all of this. All she will care about is that her Papa has come home. Charlie, this child has already lost two parents, do not take a third from her."

Charlie steeled his jaw. "Rebecca. Look at me. What kind of a parent can I be right now? I am barely human."

"Charlie, yes, right now you need to rest and heal, but in time you are going to be fine and……"

"Jesus Christ, Rebecca. Look at me. Look at me! I have always been a shadow of a man, a bad imitation. Now I am only pieces! I cannot walk. My hand is gone. I will be nothing but a mass of scars when I heal. I can only be a burden, so leave me. Create a life for yourself, for the children. They do not need to have a sad half-man who cannot even go to the bathroom alone for a father. Leave me."

"Charlie...please...do not say..."

"Rebecca –– go. Go! Please, just go."

Rebecca stood, feeling tears forming in her eyes. She backed up from Charlie. "I love you. Nothing that has happened will change that." Tears slipped down her cheeks as she turned and left the room.

Jocko had followed Rebecca down the stairs and stood in the shadows, wanting to help, feeling like a wretch for listening in, and lost as to what to do to help his friend and the magnificent lady who loved her General.

Chapter 35

Friday, May 5, 1865

Almost a week and a half had passed since Rebecca had brought Charlie home. After that horrible first day, Charlie had stayed in his office, refusing admittance to anyone except Jocko or Whitman. Eventually, even Whitman was barred when the man took Charlie to task for excluding Rebecca from his sick room.

Elizabeth arrived late in the afternoon, having come by carriage from the now dissolved field hospital in Appomattox. Samuelson was with her. So was Black Jack. Richard and one company from the 13th had accompanied her, as protection on the road was vital now that the country was swarming with men who had signed their oaths and were trying to get home. The rest of the 13th was on its way by troop train to Bucks County, Pennsylvania or Columbus, Ohio to muster out of the army and return to civilian life. The men accompanying Richard had no homes to return to; they thought that Culpeper was as good a place as any to build new lives. Arriving in Culpeper, they parted company, with the men reporting to Byrnes for lodging in town, and Richard, Samuelson and Elizabeth turning south and west towards Redmond Stables.

Beulah and Reg were at the door to greet the little party. Richard wanted to drive around to the stables to put the horses away, but Reg quietly shook his head and hurried off to tend the horses. Rebecca, hearing the commotion, came from the nursery where she had been tending a disconsolate little girl. She was so relieved to see the little group she literally flew down the stairs into Elizabeth’s arms. "Oh, God, I am so glad to see you, I cannot even begin to tell you."

Elizabeth gently hugged this woman she had come to regard as a sister. "What is it, Rebecca?"

"It is Charlie. He is...is..." She dissolved into tears, unable to express the pain and frustration that had settled firmly in her soul and darkly over her heart.

Elizabeth looked at Richard over the head of the sobbing woman in her arms, a dark frown of concern on her features. Gently, Richard lifted Rebecca into his arms and half carried the woman into the back parlor. Elizabeth signaled to Beulah to bring tea, and sent Samuelson off to find Jocko or Whitman and find out what was really going on.

Richard settled Rebecca into a comfortable chair and offered his handkerchief. "Now, dear lady, tell us what is going on with that reprobate."

"He has turned away from me. He will not see me. He will not see Em. He has yet to see the boys. Em is beside herself, crying for him at every turn. Nothing satisfies her. She stands at his office door, which he has locked, and begs him to open the door. The only one he will let into the room is Jocko and even then it is only for food. I am completely lost. I just do not know what to do."

Elizabeth looked at Richard, her heart falling in her chest. She had feared this kind of reaction from Charlie. It happened too often with physically robust and very active men when they discovered that they would never be able to do the things they were accustomed to again. In Charlie’s case, because his charade was so dependent on his physicality, the impact could only be devastating. "I had hoped that he would be stronger than this, but it is not unknown, dear. Injuries as extensive as Charlie has suffered leave their mark on the soul as well as on the body. I will do what I can, though. Shall I go and see to him now?"

"Please, perhaps you can get through to him. I do not think he understands that we still love him and need him."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. "No, I suppose that stubborn fool does not realize that at all. He never did understand that there are many of us who love him."

"Please go talk to him. Maybe he will listen to you."

Elizabeth left the parlor, to find Jocko waiting in the hall for her. "So, Jocko, just how bad is it?"

"Well, let me tell you, that stubborn ass is barely eating now. All he does is lie in that bed and stare out the window. He will not even talk about Rebecca or the children. I have even taken the precaution of removing all his firearms from the room."

"Is he up and about at all? He should be walking at least a few steps at a time by now."

"He refuses except to rise and lock the door."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and clenched her teeth. "Damn him. He is giving up."

Jocko looked at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes. "I fear so. Please try, Doctor."

"Of course." She patted his shoulder and turned for Charlie's office.

Elizabeth and Jocko proceeded down the stairs. There, they found little Emily crouched by the door, holding her puppy, Papa, to her chest and crying softly. The sight of the little girl waiting at her father’s door nearly destroyed Elizabeth. Gently she went to Em and lifted her in her arms. "Shush, little one. We are going to see if we cannot make your Papa right again." She turned to Jocko. "The key, if you please," knowing perfectly well that he had to have one. Silently, he handed it over to her and relieved her of the bundle of quietly weeping child and long-suffering puppy.

Elizabeth waited until Jocko was well out of view with Em before she unlocked the door and entered the room. She saw him there, his back to her, as Jocko said, staring out the window. "Hello, Charlie."

Charlie did not move or acknowledge her entry. She could tell from the tension in his body that he knew she was there; he just refused to respond.

"Are you proud of yourself, General Redmond?"

He did not respond.

"You are tearing up your home and your family. Rebecca is nearly hysterical with worry about you, and do not tell me you can not hear little Emily crying for you outside this door."

Elizabeth’s words pierced Charlie’s soul. It was terrible to listen to your own death being mourned before you were gone. If he could just end it quickly, it would be over and they could start building a new life. There was that new man that Jocko said Rebecca had hired to help work with the horses. A fine looking man, from what Charlie could tell, who was obviously good with the animals and whom Charlie could see made Rebecca smile.

"You are a fool, do you know that? All your life you have hoped to find this –– a wife and a family –– and now you have both. Why are you trying to destroy it, Charlie? And you may as well answer me. I am not leaving until you do."

Charlie rolled over onto his back, winching when the bandages rubbed against his tender, just healing flesh, and glared at Elizabeth. "Look at me, Elizabeth and tell me honestly. Will I ever be whole again? Will I ever be able to hold my children in this arm?" He lifted his right arm as far as he could, which was scant inches above the bed. "Will I teach my sons to run and ride with this leg?" He snorted. "And my beloved. What will she see when she looks at my body? Will she see the ‘‘Greek Goddess’ she once called me, or will she see a cripple, riddled with terrible, ugly scars, who can no longer stand to be touched because of the pain? Leave me, Elizabeth. The Charlie you knew died at Appomattox Station."

"You...you..." Elizabeth tried to control her anger but decided against it. "Damn you, Charlie Redmond! Do you have any idea how many people worked to save your life? Do you have any idea that when you were wounded your men mourned more for you than when President Lincoln was killed? Damn it, Charlie, men who were free to leave when the truce was signed, stayed in camp until the day you were sent home. And I worked so hard to save you life! I should have taken your leg. It caused us days of trouble, but we were tireless in your care so you would not lose it. Damn you! Damn you taking your life for granted when so many men and boys lost theirs..." She was shaking so hard now it was all she could do to resist the urge to slap him.

Charlie looked at her coldly. "You should have let me die." He turned back away from her, to resume his vigil through the window. Here was his dream; he wanted it to be the last thing he ever saw, since he could not bear to look into Rebecca’s eyes and know how terribly he had failed her.

"How dare you! I am a doctor and my first oath is to save lives. You may take it for granted Charlie, and you may not care now, but there are people who love you and who want you around. You can believe whatever you like, but do not dare to ever tell me that I should have let you die!"

Jocko, having turned Em over to her mother and given the puppy to Colonel Richard’s care, quietly returned to the room. He heard the last words and knew that Charlie would not respond. Silently, he took Elizabeth’s arm and escorted her from the room, closing the door behind them.

Charlie lay silently looking out the window, unseeing, blinded by the tears that filled his eyes and soaked his pillow.

--*--

Monday, May 8, 1865

Rebecca found that having Richard and Elizabeth around did help ease the stress, if not the pain, of the situation with Charlie. The unexpected return of her cousin, Albert, from the war had eased the stress of trying to run the stables with just Tarent and MacFarlane’s help. She had heard he was dead, though there had never been a confirmation of his demise. He was cut from the same cloth as her father and was more comfortable with horses than people.

That left her own heartache and the children for Rebecca to manage –– more than enough for one woman to deal with at any time. It was a beautiful day, clear with bright sunshine. Rebecca thought that spending some time in the sun, with the babies and the puppy might help ease Em’s melancholy. So Sarah prepared a picnic lunch and the whole family, including Richard and Elizabeth, and Albert, adjourned to the little patio by the pond for lunch.

Em sat on the ground with Albert and played with some stick figures he had fashioned for her. Richard was holding his namesake and making truly silly noises, which almost made Rebecca’s frustration and the pain melt away as she watched him. She held little Charlie close to her and looked up to the windows of Charlie's office. "I am at my wits’ end, Elizabeth. I am so tired."

"I know, dear. So am I. Somehow, something has to get through to him. But I swear, I have no idea as to what." Elizabeth thought for a moment. "So, tell me about your handsome cousin."

Rebecca smiled at Albert, who was trying so hard to make Em laugh. "He is my father's sister's eldest son. Of her three boys, he is the only one to return from the war, and like me he has no family left. So he came here. I loved Albert like a brother when I was a child and I am glad to have him here."

"Well, he certainly has brought some cheer into this house. I am glad you have help."

Rebecca nodded, shifting little Charlie when he started fussing. "I hope someday Charlie will want to meet the entire family."

Albert interrupted their conversation. "Excuse me, Doctor Walker, but about that black stallion you brought in with you? He really needs to be exercised, but no one seems to be able to saddle him. I wonder if you would mind if I gave it a try?"

Elizabeth and Richard both chuckled. Richard responded. "Young man, that horse has never been ridden by anyone but General Redmond and, on very rare occasions, Sergeant Jackson. If you are brave enough to step into the stall or the ring with him, please feel free. Just be warned that Jack has a temperament all his own."

Em heard the name of her Papa’s horse. If Jack was at the house, then so was Papa. Excitement lit her face. "Jack, Jack, Jack," she chanted.

Albert looked surprised. This was the most animated he had seen his little cousin since he had arrived. "Do you want to go with me to see Jack, Em?"

She nodded emphatically and climbed to her feet. "Jack, Papa 'orsey."

Rebecca could not help it. Em was so determined and so cute about it and she was so relieved that Em finally was showing interest in something –– anything –– that she laughed out loud.

Albert hefted the child in his arms. He had shed his coat in the warm weather and stood in just his shirtsleeves, holding the little girl who was holding onto his neck tightly. "Then let us go see a ‘‘orsey."

--*--

Charlie lay in his cot, watching the scene play out before him. His wife, his children, his friends, and this strange, handsome man in the place where he wanted to be with all his heart and knew he could never be again. Charlie’s heart lay shattered in the remains of his mangled flesh, rotting on the field at Appomattox Station. The man was tall, dark haired, well built, with a flashing smile and an easy grace. Em clearly trusted and loved him. He could make Rebecca smile. Maybe this was the man that Rebecca should have been with. Charlie wished with all his heart that Jocko had left him at least his sword.

He watched as the man lifted Em in his arms and walked toward the stables. They entered, and a few minutes later, emerged with Jack on a lunge lead. The three of them entered the small paddock, with Jack following the man like a well-trained nag. Where was Charlie’s fierce warhorse? With Em perched on his shoulders, the man put Jack through his ground paces. One of the grooms brought Jack’s saddle and bridle, taking Em from the man’s arms for a few moments while the man tacked Jack up. Then, with Jack standing quietly for him, the man swung up into the saddle, took Em from the groom and set her in front of him, and trotted Jack out of the paddock.

Charlie could not stand it any more. He struggled to pull himself up from the bed and worked his way around the room, looking for something, anything that he could use to end his life. There was nothing left for him. He cleared the old desk, searching in the drawers for a knife, a rope, anything. Finally, in his weakened state, he fell into the old leather chair by the fireplace. There he sat and sobbed out his rage, his frustration and all the pain in his soul.

--*--

Seeing Jack just made Em more determined. She thought very carefully in her two-year-old mind about what must be going on to make her Papa not want to see her. That afternoon, when she should have been taking her nap, the little girl thought long and hard. Finally, it occurred to her that the only reason why Papa would not see her was because she had been a bad girl. She knew she had not been the brave girl she promised she would be when Papa was gone, and that she had tried Mama Becca’s nerves more than once. And she had wailed and cried when they had put Mama in the box and taken her to the church and put her into the ground. She had not been the brave, good girl Papa wanted her to be. Maybe Papa would stop punishing her if she promised to be good again.

Very quietly, Em got out of her bed and calling Puppy Papa to her side, crept down the stairs to the hall. She looked around, wanting to be very sure that none of the grownups caught her out of bed when she was supposed to be napping. When the hall was empty, she slipped to the back stairs and down them. There she and Puppy Papa turned toward the door to Papa’s office and she gathered all of her two-year-old courage. She just had to get her Papa to see her. She missed him so much and she was so sorry she had been bad.

She moved down the hall, stumbling once on her sleeping gown and stubbing her hand. She looked at it and she wanted to cry, but if she cried she would be bad and Papa would not see her. She shook her hand and went to the door, giving it a tap with her hand. "Papa, Em good. Pwease, Papa."

She waited and when there was no answer she tried again, even though the tears were starting. "Papa, Em be good."

Charlie sat in his chair, lost in his own pain and bleak, hopeless rage. He heard his daughter’s voice, but thought it was a delusion, brought to him by his own mind to torment him. After all, he had seen her laughing and playing with the big, dark haired man just a few hours before.

"Papa, I be good. Pwomise. Pwease!" She leaned against the door, her body shuddering with the tears she was so desperate to hold in so she would not be bad for her Papa. "Papa! Em love Papa!"

Charlie was in hell. Oh, Em. I love you. That is why I have to let you go. I am broken, little one, and no good for you any more. Please, you and your mama need someone who is not like me. You need a real father, not a broken old woman whose whole life is a lie. Please, baby, forget me. Please. But he could not make himself go to the door, because he knew if he saw her, his resolve would break. He knew if he saw his little daughter in so much pain, he would break, and take her in his good arm and try to make her feel better. And he just could not do that to her –– or to himself.

Emily slumped against the door, then slowly slid down it, sobbing, but trying not to make any noise. Her puppy tried to ease her pain by licking her tears away but she lashed out and slapped her away, causing the pup to yelp and stagger back, her tail tucked between her legs. Em had never hit her before. But Puppy Papa would not leave her little girl. "Stop! Papa mad at Em. Em bad girl. Papa not love Em."

Charlie could not stand it. He tried to rise from the chair, but the combination of his injuries and the lack of food conspired to make it impossible. He collapsed back into his chair. Reaching for the door again, trying again, he passed out.

Jocko came down the stairs. It was time to try to get the General to eat something again. There he found the little girl, slumped on the floor sobbing. The puppy was hiding under the stairs, whimpering. Jocko rushed to the child and picked her up. "Ah, little lass, come here. Tell Uncle Jocko."

"Em bad. Papa not love Em. Pwease." She grabbed his shirt and looked directly into his eyes. "Tell Papa Em good."

"Oh, lass, Em is very good." Your papa is being a total ass and I am about ready to tell him so. "Papa is sick, honey. And he does not want you to get what he has." A terminal case of stupidity, I would say. "Let me take you upstairs. It is time to get ready for supper."

"Papa sick? Papa die? No pwease, Papa not die. Em love Papa. Pwease." She broke down and sobbed now, all her little two-year-old reserve was gone with the thoughts that Papa would die. They would put him in a box, too.

"No, little one, your Papa is not going to die. I promise." Not unless I kill him personally. "You let Uncle Jocko take you upstairs to Tess and I promise, you will see your Papa within the next few days."

Em sniffed and laid her head on Jocko's shoulder. Her little body was still shaking and she just let him carry her away from Papa's door.

Jocko walked up the stairs, carrying the exhausted child gently. As he got to the top of the first flight of stairs and was starting up the stairs to the second floor, he heard a crash coming from the back parlor. He turned back down the stairs to check. "Hush, little one," he admonished as Em stirred on his shoulder, curiosity almost overcoming her sorrow. "We need to check on your Mama for a minute."

Rebecca stood in the middle of the parlor looking at her bleeding hand and the broken glass in the window. Before she knew it the door was opening, Richard, followed by Elizabeth and Jocko, carrying Em, entered the room. "What!" She yelled, still shaking from her own anger and frustration. "I am at the end! I cannot take anymore! I have done all I can!"

Elizabeth looked at the bleeding hand. "Rebecca, what have you done?"

Richard reached for his handkerchief and immediately moved toward Rebecca to staunch the blood.

Em looked at her Mama, standing there bleeding and yelling and immediately started to wail.

Jocko just stood there holding the wailing child, stock still, his face slowly turning a fascinating shade of red.

Rebecca looked to Em. "Please stop that incessant crying! It is not doing anyone any good!" She pulled back the moment Richard tried to touch her. "No, I do not want any help! Just leave me alone. I should have known this would end in disaster! I have taken in every waif, orphan and refugee that has come my way. I put my love and trust in Charlie and he has turned me out. I am finished. I cannot take any more!"

Em looked at Mama with terrified eyes. Yes, she knew her Mama wished she would not cry so much, but she never yelled. And all that blood. Em put her fist in her mouth and tried to stop her own tears. She was terrified.

Elizabeth looked at Rebecca. Rebecca was hysterical, that was obvious. She stepped toward her friend, intending to take her and help her get some control.

"Stop! Just stop!" Rebecca backed away, it was clear that she was not aware of how badly she was cut; the blood was dripping down her hand, leaving drops on the carpet. "He does not care. It does not matter to him that he is destroying this family. Why should it matter to me now?"

Elizabeth stepped forward and slapped Rebecca full in the face. "Stop it. Just stop it, Rebecca. You are terrifying Em."

Rebecca blinked, stunned. She looked to her daughter who was curled tight into Jocko's arms, trying not to cry and failing. "I am sorry, my little darling. Mama is sorry." Tears slipped from her eyes now and she just sat down on the closest chair. "I am so sorry."

Jocko’s jaw was set. He stepped up to Rebecca and thrust Em into her arms. "Take care of your daughter. She needs you more than you can know. I will be back in a bit." Turning, he stomped out of the room.

Rebecca held Em close and rocked her. "Mama is sorry, Em, so sorry. I did not mean to yell." She was about to bring her other hand over to comfort her daughter when she saw the blood. She presented it to Elizabeth. "Could you...please? I am sorry, Elizabeth. I do not know what came over me." She glanced to Richard. "I apologize to you as well, Richard."

Silently, Elizabeth checked Rebecca’s hand for glass shards and then used Richard’s handkerchief as a makeshift bandage.

Richard looked at the woman, pressed to her limits and beyond, and spoke quietly. " It is all right, Rebecca. I am surprised you have lasted this long. If it were me, I would have been beating the door down. All we can do now is pray that Charlie comes to his senses soon."

"I have been praying everyday since I brought him home." She looked to Em who was finally calming and kissed her baby on the head. "I love you, my little darling."

--*--

Jocko stormed down the stairs. He had endured enough and the lady of this house most certainly had. He was nearly at a run by the time he had reached Charlie's door and the momentum was more than enough for him to kick the door in.

Bursting into the room, he saw Charlie sitting in the chair, eyes glazed over, staring into space.

"Well, you have finally done it, you damn fool!"

Charlie just looked at him, lost and confused.

"Go ahead and sit there like an idiot. Go ahead and feel sorry for yourself. I am done feeling sorry for you! I have just seen your beautiful, strong wife lose her senses. Dr. Walker is up there right now probably putting stitches in her hand, because she put it through a pane of glass. It is her and your little ones that I will spend my time feeling sorry for now."

Charlie shook himself. "Rebecca? Stitches?"

"Yes, stitches in her hand. She cut her hand, because the burden you have placed on her shoulders with your stubbornness has finally gotten to her. Not to mention that I found your little girl outside your door today, promising to be good and begging me to make you love her again."

Charlie closed his eyes. In a calm, patient tone, as if explaining to a child, Charlie started. "Look at me, Jocko. I was never the man that Rebecca and Em need. And now, I am not even a whole human being. All I can do is be a burden for them. So they will feel pain now, and I am sorry, but then I will be gone and they can have a real life. They have all the money they need. Maybe that dark haired gentleman that Rebecca seems to like and Em loves to play with will care for them."

Jocko could not help it; he started laughing. "You are an ass. Do you know who that young man is?"

"No. I assume he is some Southern soldier returning home after the war. He seems to have come courting Rebecca." Charlie started to say something else, but just could not get it out of his mouth. He was going to say ‘‘I wish him well’ but the truth was that he wished the man to hell. Rebecca was the only love Charlie would ever have, and he no longer deserved her, if he ever had.

"That is her cousin, you mule-headed son of a bitch. Her aunt's eldest boy. Rebecca is all the family he had left, so he came here. I hate to tell you this, Charlie boy, but the only person Rebecca wants in her life in that way is you."

Charlie half rose out of his chair. He glared at Jocko. "You fool. How can you say that? You have seen what my body has become. How could anyone ever want to touch someone who looks like me? Let alone a gentle, sensitive lady like Rebecca. Jesus Christ, Jocko. Before Rebecca, the only ones who would touch me were whores, paid to be discreet and responsive. She wanted me, not this mangled excuse for a body. What am I supposed to do? Limp up to her and make love? I cannot even make it to the door right now, let alone up the stairs. And when I do, and I see revulsion and pity on her face, what then? What of my children, who will only know a Papa who limps around, cannot teach them to ride, to hunt, to shoot –– to be men and women of pride? What pride can a cripple teach them? How am I supposed to run this farm –– from a chair? Jocko, I have nothing left to give them. Let me go."

"You do not remember, do you? You do not remember Rebecca being at your side in camp, do you? She performed surgery on you, Charlie, when Elizabeth was far too exhausted to do it properly any longer. That lady took those instruments in hand and took care of your wounds. She knows what you look like, Charlie, and she has not shied away from it yet. As for your children, Christ! Em only wants her Papa; she could not care less about your wounds. Your boys will grow up with it. It will be normal for them, as normal as you will allow it to be. Dr. Walker believes you will ride again, if you get off your lazy, feeling sorry for yourself arse and do what you are supposed to do to get better. There is nothing we can do to help you if you will not help yourself first."

Charlie only caught the first part of Jocko’s speech. He was stunned. "She was there? I thought I was dreaming? She was the one who…… Oh, God. I have been such a fool. How did she get there? What happened? You have to tell me, Jocko. How bad a mess have I made of things?"

Jocko's brow lifted slowly over his eye, creeping up his forehead and he put his fists on his hips. "Oh, so that is how it is? I see. Yes, she was there. Elizabeth sent for her when we thought you were going to die, but she came, resolute that you would not die. She even came up with the treatment for the infection that nearly cost you that leg you were so worried about. She stayed by your side until Elizabeth put a sedative in her tea to make her sleep. She never turned away from you. Then she brought you home and wanted to help you get better and you turned her out, Charlie boy. You drove her away." He sighed, putting his hands to his sides. "All you have to do is ask to see her and she will be here. Yes, Charlie, you have bloody well made a mess of things, and you are damn lucky you have a forgiving woman in Rebecca, cause if it were me, right now, I would let you rot." More softly, he added, "Charlie, she only wants you."

Charlie looked down at himself, dressed in a dirty nightshirt, shoeless, and probably smelling a bit ripe since he had refused Jocko’s assistance in bathing. "Jocko, can you help me get cleaned up a bit?" Charlie looked pitiful, lost and confused, and very ashamed, but somehow more himself than he had been in days.

"It would be my pleasure. It is good to have my friend back. I did not much care for the fool who had taken his place."

Charlie was shaky, but game. "Neither did I."

--*--

Getting Charlie cleaned up was more of a project than either man expected. By the time they were through, he was shaved, smelled good, and was dressed in a loose pair of trousers, a shirt and his robe and slippers. He was also exhausted. But he was also determined to begin the process of making amends with his wife and daughter.

"Jocko, how am I going to get up the stairs? I can barely stand for a minute, let alone walk."

"Wait just a moment." Jocko stepped out of the office and across the hall to the kitchen, where he found, as he expected, Reg chatting with Sarah as they washed the supper dishes. "Reg, come with me for a moment." The two men essentially picked Charlie up in a sling made of their arms and carried him up the stairs to the door of the back parlor. "Well, Charlie boy, from here you are on your own."

Reg laid his hand on Charlie’s arm. "Wait a moment, sir." He scooted to the large umbrella stand by the front door and pulled out an old cane, left by some absentminded visitor years before. "This may help."

The two men stepped back from Charlie and watched as he cautiously knocked on the parlor door.

Rebecca looked up from little Charlie's slumbering face. She was cradling one son, while the other slept near by and Em slept on the couch. After her outburst and when Elizabeth finished with her hand, she had felt an overwhelming desire to be close to her children. "Come in."

Charlie opened the door and then switched the cane to his good hand. Slowly, he shuffled into the parlor, and then just stood there, looking at his family. He looked into Rebecca’s eyes, trying to find words. "I am so, so sorry."

She stood, being very careful of her son, and walked to Charlie. She was not sure what to say to him; a wrong word might set him off again. "I love you."

"I love you. I just did not know…… I think we need to talk." Charlie stopped, unable to continue in the face of his own overwhelming stupidity. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course." She smiled and moved so he could get to the closest chair. "I am sorry, too."

Charlie gingerly settled himself in the chair. "I dreamed you were there."

"It was not a dream. I was there." She sat down in the chair across from him, taking the time to place little Charlie in his cradle. "I came as soon as Elizabeth sent for me."

"Jocko said you did surgery on me."

"Well, I doubt Elizabeth would consider it surgery, but I did tend to your wounds, helping to get rid of some of the infection."

"So you have seen how bad it is?"

"Yes." She nodded, never taking her eyes from Charlie. She did not want him to think she was repulsed by him. "I have."

"And you do not find it repellant?"

"No." She moved from her chair and settled at Charlie's feet, gently resting her hand on his good leg. "I love you. What matters to me is that you are alive. That the war is over and you are home."

"I cannot be what I was."

"Which was? Do you mean to tell me that you can no longer love the children or me? That we can no longer have long talks and plan our future? Do you think so little of me that you think I base my love of you on the fact that you could run the circuit of my farm? I always wondered what sane person would want to do that anyhow." She gave a smile, trying to make him understand what was truly important to her.

Charlie bowed his head. "I have hurt you and Em very badly."

"Charlie, it is nothing that cannot be fixed. We have just been so worried about you. Em only wants her Papa. She thinks you do not love her anymore." Tears filled Rebecca's eyes. "She is just a little girl, she does not understand."

Very tentatively, Charlie reached his hand out to touch Rebecca’s shining hair. The soft texture between his fingers nearly broke his control. "I think, perhaps, you do not either."

"I want to, Charlie, but you have to be willing to talk to me. I cannot understand anything if you stay locked away in your office."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Rebecca, I know I may not deserve it, but I want to come home –– really come home. If you will have me and all of my melancholia and my overblown sense of honor."

"You are home. You always have been. You just needed to find it for yourself. I do not know what brought you from the office, but I thank God it happened. I love you, Charlie, and the children and I need you here with us."

"Well, beloved, you should be very nice to Jocko, who went out of his way to tell me exactly how big an idiot I have been."

"Then I will see to it he is properly rewarded. I know you have a long way to go, Charlie and I want you to know I am prepared to walk that road with you."

Charlie lifted the hand that was resting on his knee and raised it to his lips. Very softly and very reverently, he kissed her hand. "I love you, Rebecca. And I have found that I need your love and happiness more than anything in the world. For a while, I was willing to die in the hopes you would find someone to be happy with –– I thought that your cousin was courting you. Jocko made me realize that it takes a lot more courage to be willing to live so that you will be happy."

"That is exactly what it will take to make me happy. Do you know, if you had died, there would never have been another for me? In you, I have found my life and my love. You are all I want."

Charlie reached out to her and cupped her cheek in his good hand. "And you are all I ever dreamed of and more. I do love you, darling. I never wanted to hurt you. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course. I am just happy to have you back. Now if you are up to it?" She glanced to Em who was sucking on her thumb as she slept on the couch.

"Oh, Lord. Poor Em. Rebecca, how much have I hurt her? I heard her crying outside the door, and I tried to get to her, but I just could not –– I did not have the strength."

"I think all will be forgiven if you will see her now."

"Can you wake her for me? I would love to hold her, but I, um, well, just getting here pretty much took everything I have."

Rebecca smiled and moved to the couch, where she gently ran her fingers through Em's hair. "Wake up, my little darling, there is someone here to see you."

Charlie sat in his chair, smiling gently at his daughter. "Em? Come sit on Papa’s lap –– but be gentle, please."

Em lifted her head and a smile broke across her face. "Papa!" She climbed down from the couch and, with help from Rebecca and another warning to be careful of Papa, she was where she most wanted to be, in her Papa's arms. "Papa." She cuddled into him. Her weight on his injuries was excruciatingly painful, but he bore it with good cheer. Em’s well-being was far more important.

"Hey there, little one. How is my good girl?"

She did not respond. She just cuddled into his lap and kept saying, 'Papa' over and over again.

"I have missed you, imp. I hear tell you have been a very, very good girl."

"Em twy." She very carefully leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Love Papa."

Charlie hugged the little girl very close with his good arm. "I love you very much, Em. And I promise, you can come into my office whenever you want from now on."

"Papa see Chawy, see Andy?"

"Your brothers have been asleep, but I expect that Mama will introduce me soon. I wanted to see you, first."

"Em happy you home."

"I am very happy to be home. I got lost for a while, but Uncle Jocko and Mama helped me find my way."

"You in you office. Em knew."

Charlie looked at Rebecca and they both tried very hard to not laugh out loud. "Yes, Em. Papa was in his office."

"I know." She huffed and cuddled back into his arms. "Papa no work, no more."

Charlie laughed. "Em, Papa has to work. But I promise, Papa will only work as much as he has to, and you can visit me whenever you want." He turned to Rebecca, "That is true for you, too, dear."

Rebecca nodded and placed her hand on his knee. "I am glad. Will you please move back into our room as well?"

"If you want me, I would like to very much. I have missed you more than I can ever tell you."

"I want you to, very much. As long as being in bed with me does not cause you pain. You said the bed upstairs was too soft."

Charlie looked down and tightened his lips. "That was not the problem, dear."

"No? What was it?"

He looked directly into her eyes. "I was afraid. Afraid you would find me…… repellent."

"I understand. You needed time." She looked at Charlie’s bandaged hand. "I wish I had understood it earlier. I was expecting too much too soon."

"No, dear. You were not expecting too much. You were expecting your husband to come back to you. The problem was that I left your husband on that field, and had to find him again." Charlie was trying to be discreet, with Em drowsing on his lap.

"Have you found him?"

"I think I have. He is somewhat shaky and a bit scared, but he is back."

"Good." She was about to say something else when Andrew began wailing. She closed her eyes against the sound and smiled. "That is our boy." She moved and picked him up. "Come Andrew, let me introduce you to your Papa."

Charlie nudged Em, who was half asleep on his lap. "Em, little one, can you make room for your brother? I cannot hold him in my right arm yet."

Em opened sleepy eyes, looking to her brother. "Papa hold Andy." She climbed down from his lap, but stayed near his legs. She watched as the baby was placed in Charlie's arm. "Andy cwies." She sighed. "Lots."

Charlie found himself looking into a pair of blue eyes, crinkled with sleep and irritation. Here was your basic baby, red faced, with good lungs, based on the amount of sound coming out of his mouth right now, and a cap of fine reddish blond hair. Charlie looked up at Rebecca. "Constance’s?"

"Yes."

"Hello, Andrew Richard Redmond. I am your Papa. It is a pleasure to meet you, young sir."

The baby looked to the sound of Charlie's voice, stopped crying and proceeded to yawn.

Charlie laughed and handed his younger son back to Rebecca. "He is beautiful, love. And his hair is like yours."

After placing Andrew in his bed, Rebecca moved to the other cradle and picked up their eldest son. "And this," she presented him, " is Charles Huger Redmond the second."

Charlie Two was solid little boy with a shock of black hair standing up from his head like a bantam rooster’s and bright blue eyes that regarded his father very solemnly. "Hello, son. I do hope you do not turn out to be as stubborn as your father." Charlie looked up at Rebecca and smiled. "We celebrated his arrival with a small found feast –– roast goat. I do hope it was not predictive of his personality."

"No, he is very sweet. A good little boy who does not fuss and entertains himself most of the time."

"Well, dear wife, I would say that you have built us a lovely family while I was gone."

--*--

Tess came and bundled the children away to bed. Em was a little reluctant to go, but Charlie promised her that he would be in the bedroom upstairs in the morning, and she could come and visit him as soon as she woke up.

Charlie and Rebecca talked late into the night. Charlie laid all of his fears and uncertainties before Rebecca, trying to make her understand why he had thought she would be better off without him, and ending up by convincing himself even more of what a fool he had been.

Rebecca palmed Charlie's cheek. "You are exhausted, my love. We need to sleep."

"I am tired, dear, but I fear that I will have to forego sleeping with you for one more night. I just do not think I can get up the stairs."

"Oh I think I can find a way for us to be together. I cannot go another night without being near you."

Charlie caught his breath. She had been rather distant physically throughout the evening. Patting his knee and leaning her head against his good thigh was the limit of her contact. He found that as the night progressed, he longed for her touch. No, he was not in any shape to make love, but he needed to feel her arms around him again and he ached for just a touch from her lips. "I would love to be with you, dear. So whatever you devise, I will be happy."

"Then I shall be right back." Rebecca left the parlor, returning a few minutes later with a pile of bedding that was bigger than she was. After a few minutes, there was a bed placed on the floor near the fireplace. She turned and held out a nightshirt. "Would you like me to help you get dressed for bed?"

"I have no other options, dear. I just cannot do it myself yet. The arm and hand will not cooperate." He saw the slightly dashed looked on her face and added, "but even if I could do it, I would love your assistance."

She nodded and approached him slowly. "Tell me if I hurt you." Carefully she unbelted his robe and help him slip out of it. Then the clothes began to come off. She was very careful about Charlie's right side. "Are you all right?"

Charlie was breathing a little hard. Moving that right arm was painful and anything that nudged the raw bones of his hand was also difficult. She had not yet gotten to the most difficult wounds. "I am as right as I get nowadays, dear. You are far more gentle than Jocko."

"I would hope so," she chuckled and began rolling the sleep shirt. "Do you have any suggestion for what you think might be the best way to do this? To be honest Charlie, it would be easier for you to sleep nude, but it is difficult to say who might walk in here."

"Well, if you get it on the right arm first, then over my head, I can work my left arm into without too much trouble. Then all you have to do is get my trousers off."

"All right." She helped pull the shirt over Charlie's head, slowly and carefully. "Now just hold it up while I take off your trousers." She worked the button and the hook free. "I am sure this is going to be painful, but I will do it as quickly as possible."

Charlie held his breath while Rebecca carefully eased his trousers over the bandages on his hip and thigh. She looked at them carefully for a moment, and seeing no signs of seepage, patted him on his calf. He looked down at her and smiled. "Painless, dear."

"Good." She very gently touched Charlie's right leg. "These do not bother or concern me, Charlie. You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Charlie looked at her, seeing the truth in her eyes. "You, my beloved, are terribly biased. I hope you stay that way."

"There is nothing biased about how I feel about you." She helped Charlie pull the sleep shirt down. "Now, can we get you to the bed?"

Charlie grinned at his beautiful wife. "I certainly think you are the most stunning, beautiful, feisty thing I have ever set eyes on. And yes, I think if you give me a hand, I can lower myself down there."

Rebecca held her left hand firmly as Charlie moved from the couch to the bedding on the floor.

With a shaky moment or two, Charlie managed to get down onto the bed without doing major damage. She carefully arranged herself so that the injuries were properly supported and then sank into the soft padding. Extending her left hand to Rebecca, Charlie almost shyly asked, "Can I offer you a shoulder?"

"Absolutely, just let me get changed."

Charlie laid back and watched Rebecca as she started to remove her dress. Watching Rebecca emerge from the whalebone and skirts of her clothing to display her slender, elegant body was always a delight for Charlie.

She settled her nightgown over her head and gently climbed into bed with Charlie. "I would like to be close to you, but I do not want to hurt you."

"Rebecca, I have missed you for so long, having you not come over here hurts far more than anything your touch may do to me. I am starting to heal; it is not as bad as it was."

She sighed and placed her head on Charlie's shoulder then gently draped her arm over her waist. "Is this all right?"

Charlie smiled. She was home. "It is perfect, darling. There is just one thing missing."

"Yes?"

Charlie turned her head and gently laid her lips on Rebecca’s forehead. "Just one thing. Your lips."

Chapter 36 - Epilogue

Thursday, June 1, 1865

Culpeper County, Virginia

Thursday, June 1, 1865

Dear Major Swallow,

I write to you as one of my first activities after regaining use of what is left of my hand. I have also written to your brother to extend my personal condolences on the loss of your young cousin, Joshua. His death is mourned and honored. He fell in a good cause, as I believe our ability to keep those supplies captured at Appomattox Station from General Lee’s forces was the most telling action that led to the final surrender.

Indeed, as my last official act as an officer in the United States Army, I am writing to the family of each man who fell that day, for in my opinion, to ride into the face of those howitzers was truly an act of immense courage. I know that Colonel Polk long since prepared the official notifications, but as their commanding officer, I feel an obligation to honor the valiant fallen. We all knew that day just how important it was to keep those supplies from getting through; though I would have taken a different approach from General Custer’s, we had a job to do, we did it, and the result was, as we both know, the cessation of the war in Virginia. I thank God every day for the end of this most painful disruption of our national family. Trooper Raiford fell still holding the flag; Trooper Franklin and then your cousin followed him, so that the Colors of the 13th Pennsylvania never flagged on that day.

I mourn, too, the loss of Captains Hoffstader and Avery and many of their men. Companies B and I took a major blow in that last charge under General Sheridan at Appomattox Courthouse. Thank God that General Grant’s infantry was there to support us, for I believe the Southerners were desperate and would have been truly formidable had we not had that support. Dewees fell, too, that day, successfully rescuing a pocket of his men who had been entrapped by enemy forces. He gave the ultimate gift –– his life for his men’s.

I have not had word of all the others who were injured but I understand most recovered from their wounds. I would be most grateful if you would advise me of the status of your men in Pennsylvania. I am asking Captain Braddock to keep me advised of the condition of the Ohioans who mustered out under his charge.

Several of our men have chosen to settle here in Culpeper and build new lives. In particular, Tarent and MacFarlane are working the stables here for me, and Jocko has chosen to remain as well. It surprised me that young Duncan Nailer stayed on, but then, he and Mrs. Carter seem to be exploring their common friendship through young Jeremiah. I would not be surprised to see them marry sometime in the future.

Richard Polk has taken over from Major Byrnes as the Military/Civilian liaison in the area. I would not be surprised if he resigned his commission and took up civilian politics in this community. As one would expect of Colonel Polk, he has managed to charm the ladies and make the gentlemen his cronies. We do expect him to be somewhat tamed in the coming months, as he and Dr. Walker will wed next month. I do not expect the good Doctor will allow our friend too much latitude in his personal dealings in the future.

I hope this letter has found you in good health, and happily reunited with your family and look forward to receiving word from you on the progress of our men as they return to civilian life.

Cordially,

Chas. Redmond

Brig. General, U.S. Army (Ret.)

Charlie looked at the letter he had written, one of almost a hundred sending condolences and inquiring after the health and status of his men who had been killed or injured in the last days of the war. He sat back and considered the events of the past month, since he had truly begun his journey to recovery.

The last part of May had been an interesting time on the farm. Many of the families who had been taken in had found their way to other things. Charlie and Rebecca had purchased another two dozen horses. This had resulted in Tarent and McFarlane hiring on another three hands to help take care of the rapidly growing herd.

Richard and Elizabeth set a date for their wedding. Rebecca considered it to be one of the things that had inspired Charlie to work harder to get better. He was getting stronger everyday and took getting out of the house very seriously. He had managed to avoid his own wedding plans, and, now that more plans were in the offing, was once again purposely making himself scarce. Wedding plans were a little more than Charlie could handle.

There had also been an incident, which helped Charlie and Albert get to know each other better. Shannon, in a fit of pregnant pique, bit Jack on the neck, removing a chunk of flesh about the size of a ten dollar gold piece. Charlie’s arm was still not serviceable enough to do the hard work, but he calmed Jack while Albert did the work of patching the horse up. It gave the two a chance to get to know each other and it gave Charlie a chance to thank Albert for taking care of the farm and Rebecca while he was unable to do so.

Jocko had managed to start formally courting Mrs. White and young Duncan had done the same with Jeremiah’s mother, Samantha Carter. Rebecca wondered if she would ever see Charlie in the house again if they all decided to get married.

Culpeper was slowly starting to recover from the horrors it had been subjected to, and people were starting to settle into the community once again. A few new buildings were being constructed, including the new schoolhouse. Someone had suggested Richard would make a fine marshal once his retirement was ratified, and he had been heard to be considering it, but he would have to see what the future Mrs. Polk would have to say about it.

Charlie and Richard had discussed the idea of building a clinic for Elizabeth as a wedding gift, but they were terrible at keeping the secret and she soon found out. A short time later she hired a young man who had recently returned home to draw up the plans.

Charlie had begun correspondence with Mr. Cooke about the possibility of opening a bank in Culpeper. The need for investment capital was great, and Charlie felt he would soon see progress in that direction.

Evenings were spent with their friends and with their children. Em was learning her alphabet, making both her Mama and Papa very proud. Little Charlie was starting to push himself up and hold his head up for longer amounts of time. Andy had a minor bout of colic, which kept Rebecca and Charlie up for three days straight, but they were more than happy to be tending to the youngest of their brood.

Bedtime had found Charlie and Rebecca settling into a new ritual. Rebecca first washed Charlie’s wounds with warm water, then applied a lotion Elizabeth had given them. She said it would help Charlie’s scars fade and while they would never be completely gone, would help to reduce them. Charlie loved the extra attention and his fears that Rebecca would be repulsed by his injuries began to fade along with the scars.

Of course Rebecca knew Charlie was getting spoiled rotten and she would still be applying lotion long after there was no further need, but she really did not mind. All that mattered to her was that Charlie was there with her.

--*--

Charlie smiled. It was good to be getting back into a routine, good to be able to walk upstairs under his own power. With daily exercise, he was beginning to regain use of his right arm, and to regain some strength in his right leg. The extensive loss of muscle tissue meant he would never be totally normal; but he kept working and exercising, trying to build up some flexibility and strength in the ravaged tissue. His right hand still ached, and Elizabeth warned him that he would probably feel the ghosts of those missing fingers for the rest of his life, but he could hold a pen, a knife, and a fork now, so he was spared the indignity of having to have his food cut up for him like a child.

The back door to his office banged open. Em had learned several new things, one of which was that Charlie’s office was always available to her when her father was in it.

"Papa, look. Fishy in rock. Why, Papa?" Tess trailed behind her impetuous charge.

Charlie looked at the rock clutched in Em’s rather grubby hand. "It is called a fossil, Em. When this fishy died a long, long time ago, the body lay on the sand at the bottom of the pond. More sand covered it up and over time, the sand turned into rock." Charlie and Tess exchanged sympathetic looks and then Charlie motioned for Tess to leave; he would look after his daughter for a while.

Em looked at the piece of sandstone and thought for a minute. "Why, Papa?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘‘Why’ had remained Em’s favorite word and at times, he was hard pressed to come up with an answer he thought she might be able to understand. Finally, he had an idea. "Come with me, little one."

They walked down to the pond, where Charlie picked up a handful of wet, clay-ridden sand. "See, Em. It is loose sand, right?" She nodded as he pressed it into a compact ball. "Now, when I press on it, it gets harder." She nodded again. "When things press on it for a long time –– a very long time –– it will get even harder." He took the wet clay ball and walked with the child to the stone barn. "So, we will find a big rock and press it even more, then let it dry out. Then you can see it get even harder." Em watched, fascinated, as Charlie found a couple of stones and made a makeshift brick mold. "Now, we will come back in a couple of days and see what happens."

Charlie felt very proud of himself. He had started his daughter on the path of experimentation. Then it started again.

"Papa? Why are rocks hard?"

Charlie’s shoulders slumped. Then he had an inspiration. It was almost lunchtime. "Let us go ask your Mama."

Rebecca stood at the window of the back parlor and watched her oldest child and husband make their way up the lawn. Em was grubby, as she often was lately. That child could and would get into anything and everything. Keeping her grubby fingers out of her mouth was a major challenge. Charlie walked along steadily, leaning on one crutch to support his weight. Soon, she thought, he would graduate to a cane for good.

The child was cautious not to knock her father’s crutch away –– that had happened once and the results had been very messy all around. Charlie had been in agony, Em had been frightened that she had hurt her Papa, and Puppy Papa, who followed Em everywhere, had cowered under the davenport for most of the day.

Rebecca went downstairs to meet them by the winter kitchen. While most of the food was now being prepared in the summer kitchen to minimize the heat in the main house, a small fire was kept going there to keep the water tank warm. "My stars, you two are both a mess. Come in here and get cleaned up." She led them into the mudroom off to the side of the kitchen and worked away at the more muddy sections of Em’s robust little body –– hands, arms, face, and feet. "Keeping you in shoes is impossible, little one. What did you do with them this time?"

"Papa’s office," the child mumbled as her face was briskly wiped down with a warm washcloth.

"Charlie Redmond. I swear, you encourage her to go barefoot."

Charlie looked not at all abashed. "Well, dear, I would have liked to when I was her age, so what is the harm?"

"Charlie, no proper lady goes barefoot, even if she is just two."

"Two and fouw mons, Mama." Em had continued her efforts in learning to count. She counted everything she could, including her own age. Every morning, she asked Tess to tell her how old she was –– in months. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have asked how old she was in days. She understood days. Months were just lots of days to her.

"Then at nearly three, you should most definitely be wearing shoes."

Em looked to Charlie and then to Rebecca. "Yes, Mama."

Rebecca took Em’s rock and placed it off to the side while she washed her hands.

"Mama, that Em rock!" The child protested, reaching for it.

"Yes, and you can have it back after lunch, but for now you are clean and I would like you to stay that way while we eat."

"Yes, Mama."

Rebecca lifted the child from the sink and turned to Charlie, whose hands were also filthy. "You too, General Redmond. Time to clean up for lunch."

"Yes, Mama." He grinned, moving to the sink, where he got snapped on the good side of his bottom with a towel.

--*--

Em had been taken away for her nap right after lunch. Charlie and Rebecca were enjoying coffee in the dining room when Reg showed Richard and Elizabeth in. Richard looked exhausted and Elizabeth had an arm full of cloth swatches. Charlie rolled his eyes and wondered how quickly he could find an excuse for the men to vacate the room.

They joined Charlie and Rebecca at the table, and immediately the ladies began talking fabric choices for Elizabeth’s wedding dress. Richard poured a cup of coffee and then pulled something from his pocket and laid it on the table near Charlie. "Young Jeremiah asked me to give this to you. Seems the boy has found a natural talent for working with leather and he said he heard you and Duncan talking about your desire to have one."

Charlie picked up what turned out to be a glove crafted from soft black leather. It was made for his right hand, to help cover the scars. He looked at it and smiled before slipping it on. "It is a perfect fit. How did he do it?"

"He used a pair of your cavalry gloves as a pattern and with a little guidance from Elizabeth about your injury, he fashioned it."

"That was very nice of him. I will have to thank him for that and offer him the position of chief glove maker."

Richard looked over to Elizabeth and Rebecca who were in serious wedding mode. "I just keep telling myself it will be over in two weeks."

"It is the best thing you will ever do." Charlie smiled. "Next to becoming a father."

Richard smiled. "You know, I never thought about me being a father, but watching you with little Em and now with the two babies, I think I just might enjoy it. I even enjoyed taking care of her while you and Rebecca were in Washington."

"So, have you two decided if we are to do the military routine for the wedding?"

"Yes, particularly since she has some retired General coming down to give her away. It is a shame her parents moved back to England. I think they would love to see their daughter wed."

"The would. However, I believe an old friend of her father’s has consent to give her away." Charlie sighed. "I will have to figure out how to make my dress uniform look at least presentable on this new body of mine." He sipped his coffee and then said slyly, "You know, Elizabeth told me her family never expected her to marry when she went to Medical School. They told her that no man in his right mind would want to marry a woman with a career."

Richard laughed. "And who said I was in my right mind? I served as your executive officer for how many years?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "And that was a symptom of your basic insanity? I would say your willingness to participate in all of this wedding planning is far more indicative of your mental health, or lack of it."

Both men looked over at the ladies, who were discussing the difference between three different lace swatches. For the life of them, neither Charlie nor Richard could see any difference at all between them.

"Shall we go out on the porch for a smoke and escape this hotbed of feminine plotting and planning?"

"Certainly. I always like getting my hands on your cigars. Where do you get them from, Charlie?"

"A tobacconist in Washington brings them in from Cuba for me. All you have to do is be willing to pay the price for them –– and know who to ask."

The two men adjourned to the back porch, enjoying the soft breeze from the mountains in the early summer heat.

For a few minutes, the men just smoked quietly, each enjoying the mild weather. Then Charlie asked, "So, are you going to run for office when you retire?"

"I have been thinking seriously about it. It would mean I would have to spend some time in Richmond, but I know you and Rebecca will make sure Elizabeth does not fade away for lack of company."

"We will certainly look after her when you are gone –– as much as she will let us. How goes the house?"

"It will be finished before the wedding, or so I am told. I do hope so; it will be nice to carry my lady across the threshold. Though I doubt she will allow me to do as dramatic a version of it as you did, my friend. My Elizabeth is far more pragmatic than romantic, I fear."

"Well, it will not be the same anyway, since your wedding feast is here, not at your new house."

"She got a telegram from Phil Sheridan the other day, saying he was coming down for the wedding and bringing something for her with him. Do you know anything about it?"

Charlie grinned. "I have an idea, but I think I would rather let General Sheridan confirm it rather than raise any expectations."

"Speaking of expectations, how goes the bank idea?"

"Cooke and I have been corresponding. Since I have at least a reasonable percentage of capital to invest personally, I am cautiously optimistic that we will have a bank here before the end of the year."

At that moment, Rebecca’s head emerged through the rear doors. "Charlie, Richard, could you come in and look at this for a moment. Elizabeth and I cannot decide between the eggshell or the off-white linen."

Both men groaned and dutifully entered the parlor to look at two pieces of linen that looked to them, almost exactly identical.

--*--

Friday, June 16, 1865

Sheridan’s train arrived on time, a novel experience given the continued disruption as Virginia attempted to transition from wartime to peacetime business. Richard met him and escorted him to the waiting carriage.

"So, Polk. Ready to commit yourself?"

"Yes, sir. I told you I wanted to marry her and I have kept my part of the bargain."

"So you did, Sir, so you did. I must confess, as witness to the event, it was the oddest proposal I have ever seen a man make. But I am honored to be here."

They rode in silence for a while, Sheridan happily chewing on his cigar and enjoying the fact that the land once again looked tended. Charlie’s influence was bringing Culpeper back from the devastation of the war more quickly than he had expected.

"Oh, by the way, Polk. Is Dr. Walker at the house? I have a little something for her she may enjoy receiving –– totally separate from the wedding, of course."

"Yes, sir. I believe you will see her at supper."

"Good, good. And is there a gentleman’s event this evening?"

"Well, nothing like what we did for Redmond, but yes, I believe some of the local men have plans for us tonight. Redmond’s batman, Jackson and his old mess sergeant, Jamison, have opened an inn on the south side of town. I believe we are expected to join them this evening."

"Well, good. I can use a glass or two of Jocko’s rum punch."

--*--

Supper that night was quietly celebratory. The plans for tomorrow’s wedding were all laid; guests had arrived and been appropriately housed, Sarah was looking pleased with the plans for the meal and all seemed to be in order.

As supper was ending, Sheridan looked at Elizabeth, his old friend, and grinned. "It will be very strange to call you Doctor Polk after so long, my dear."

"Well, you do not have to. I am planning to retain my own name, thank you."

Sheridan’s eyebrows rose at that announcement. It was unheard of. But then, many of the things Elizabeth Walker did were unheard of. "So, Polk, how do you feel about this…… break from tradition?"

"I expected it, actually. Elizabeth is now and always has been one of the most stubborn women I know. Fortunately, I like stubborn women."

A laugh went around the table, with Polk blushing and Elizabeth looking mildly offended.

Charlie cleared his throat and, looking around the table, announced, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears we are finished with dinner. I believe it is time for us to leave the fairer sex to their evening."

"One moment, Redmond." Sheridan stood at his place at the table. "I have a small item for Dr. Walker." He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew an official looking document and a slim, elegant box. He unfolded the paper and read:

"Award of the Congressional Medal of Honor for Meritorious Service.

Whereas it appears from official reports that Dr. Elizabeth Walker, a graduate of medicine, has rendered valuable service to the Government, and her efforts have been earnest and beneficial in a variety of ways, and that she was assigned to duty and served as an assistant surgeon attached to the 49th Ohio Cavalry and then the 13th Pennsylvania Cavalry, upon the recommendation of Major Generals Sheridan and Sherman, and faithfully served as contract surgeon in the service of the United States, and has devoted herself with much patriotic zeal to the sick and wounded soldiers, both in the field and hospitals, to the detriment of her own health; and

Whereas by reason of her not being a commissioned officer in the military service, a brevet or honorary rank cannot, under existing laws, be conferred upon her; and

Whereas in the opinion of the President an honorable recognition of her services and sufferings should be made:

It is ordered, that a testimonial thereof shall be hereby made and given to the said Dr. Elizabeth Walker, and that the Medal of Honor for Meritorious Services be given her.

Given under my hand in the city of Washington, D.C., this 11th day of June, A.D. 1865.

Andrew Johnson

President, United States of America"

Sheridan folded the document, and opened the case. In it was the medal, struck of solid gold and suspended from a fine blue satin ribbon. "May I, Doctor Walker?"

Elizabeth was torn between blushing and beaming. "By all means, General Sheridan." She stood as he placed the ribbon around her neck and then he softly kissed her on the cheek. She sat and softly stroked the medal, looking rather stunned.

Charlie stood. "To my friend, my physician, and my savior, for without her, I would not be here today to make this toast and see her wed on the morrow. Many more men than I can count also owe her their lives. I give you Doctor Elizabeth Walker."

The rest of the people at the table stood and joined Charlie. "Dr. Walker!"

--*--

The gentleman had gone off to their own celebration and the ladies adjourned to the rear parlor for their own festivities where they were joined by Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Cooper, and Mrs. White. The men would be more in number, but Rebecca was sure the ladies would have just as good a time.

Sarah had laid out a very nice table of refreshments. Rebecca was peering into the bowl of punch, which had been set in the center of the table. Elizabeth joined her, looking in after her to see what was so fascinating. "What are you doing?"

"I think it is missing something."

Elizabeth ladled up a small cup and tasted it. "No, I think it is lovely, very fruity and refreshing."

"Trust me," Rebecca grinned and moved to a cabinet where she retrieved a bottle of Charlie’s best rum. "It is missing something."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "I take it you want me to go to my own wedding with a hangover?"

"Well, my dear, you can drink slowly. However, if you should be in need, Sarah has a remedy that will take care of you." And with that, she poured the bottle into the punch. "I simply do not see why the men should have all the fun."

Elizabeth looked at her friend with wide eyes. She knew what Sarah used as a remedy for the hangover. It worked, but just trying to get it down one's throat was, in her opinion, probably worse than the hangover itself. "Oh, well, what the devil. Let us emulate our masculine partners on this one night. And Rebecca Redmond - if I am miserable tomorrow and need Sarah's cure, you have to drink one with me."

Rebecca ladled two cups out and handed one Elizabeth. "It is best enjoyed with a friend." She took a healthy drink of hers and coughed just a bit. "Very smooth." She choked, hoping her eyes would not tear up.

Elizabeth, having been involved in drinking contests with the gentlemen when out in the field, had the good sense to sip hers. "I think I will wait until the rest of our guests arrive before I indulge to the point of senselessness."

A moment later the parlor doors opened and the rest of the ladies entered escorted by Reg, who was trying desperately to be polite but make a quick retreat from this den of ladies. Ladies of any color in a bunch made Reg nervous.

Rebecca was kind enough to warn the ladies of the punch and told them she would be happy to provide other resources if they desired. She was not truly amazed when her offer was declined and each of the three pulled their own cups from the bowl.

"It is a party. Let us celebrate." Mrs. Cooper lifted her cup to her friends.

--*--

Charlie quietly closed the door and headed up the stairs, using his left hand on the banister to steady himself. He was by no means completely drunk, but he was nicely tight and, for the first time in a very long time, the pain in his body was all but forgotten.

He took the steps slowly, carefully then at the top he walked down the hall to their bedroom. He noticed the light was on and filtered under the door. Quietly he pushed the door open and immediately noticed something was not quite right. Just inside the door at his feet was the top of Rebecca dress. A foot or so past that was her skirt. He grinned like an idiot and began following the trail of clothing, which consisted of the layers required to make Rebecca’s dress look so full.

He stopped when he finally saw her, sitting up on the settee, near the fireplace. She was naked from the waist up, clad only in her pantalets, she had one shoe on and one bare foot, the other shoe and stocking had somehow managed to find their way to the center of the bed.

Quietly, he divested himself of his coat, tie, vest and boots. Clad only in his shirt, britches and socks, he padded over to the settee and stroked Rebecca's hair. "Rebecca, dear," he whispered.

"Hmm……" She opened rather bleary eyes, and then she smiled. "Charlie you are home."

"Good evening, darling. Um. Did you... wear yourself out this evening?"

"Huh? Oh no, the ladies and I had a delig……deligh……a good time."

The unmistakable aroma of rum hit Charlie straight in the face. Since he had been drinking brandy that night, the difference in aromas was unmistakable. "Um, Rebecca, darling, have you been indulging in the rum?"

"Not just me." She giggled. "I think Mr. Cooper is in for quite the surprise tonight." She began giggling harder to the extent that she fell over on the couch, continuing to laugh.

Charlie had a vivid image suddenly spring into his head, of five very outspoken women sitting around the parlor, with every inhibition they owned erased by the power of his Demerarra rum. It was a frightening image. "Darling, you need to get to bed. Let me help you finish undressing."

"Ooo Charlie, are you going to undress me and take me to bed?" She opened one eye and graced Charlie with an almost predatory look.

Charlie knew that look. He had first seen it on the last night they spent at the Willard. He checked in with his body and decided that yes, perhaps he was finally ready for the... exertion that satisfying that look required. In a low, slightly husky voice, he responded. "That, my dear is exactly what I am going to do."

"Oh good." She sat up and pulled Charlie to her. "I love you, I have missed making love with you." She gave Charlie a kiss he would have felt to his boots had he still been wearing them. As it was, his toes were very warm.

--*--

Saturday, June 17, 1865

The ladies spent the night at Redmond Stables. The plan was to prepare as much as possible, then withdraw to Mrs. Cooper’s for final touches. However, the effects of the previous evening were having a definite impact on the speed with which the ladies started their day.

Elizabeth staggered down to the kitchen, looking for Sarah and her magical hangover cure. The cook had taken time from her labors out in the summer kitchen to come into the main house to prepare breakfast for the family. "Lord a mercy, Miss Elizabeth. What happened to you?"

Rebecca appeared at that moment, using the doorjamb to support her rather shaky frame.

Elizabeth very slowly turned her head to Rebecca. "She happened to me."

Rebecca shaded her eyes against the morning glare as Charlie breezed in from the mudroom and opened the shades. "Good morning, ladies. It is a beautiful day. In fact, I would say a perfect day for a wedding." He smiled benignly, knowing full well that Rebecca had a head that could define the term ‘‘morning after.’ He suspected Elizabeth and the other ladies were in no better shape. "Sarah, I think a pair of poached eggs on toast would be just the thing today –– light enough to save plenty of room for your lovely dinner, but enough to stick to your ribs and stay with you. Why, let us make your morning simple. The same thing for Miss Elizabeth and Miss Rebecca."

Rebecca groaned and let her head drop to the table. "You are an evil man, Charles Huger Redmond."

"But, darling, last night you told me how wonderful you thought I was."

She raised her head and gave him an insincere smile. "Anything said in the heat of passion cannot be held against me."

Charlie leered. "My dear, I would happily hold anything against you that you wish." He took pity on the two sad figures in front of him. "But for right now, Sarah, I think you need to mix up a major batch of your hangover cure. These two definitely need some, and I suspect there are three more candidates for your remedy. Oh, and while you are at it, please bottle up a dose. Colonel Polk is not at his best this morning either."

"Did you get my fiancéé drunk, Charlie?" Elizabeth managed to ask from between her hands, which were currently holding up her head.

"No more than my wife got you drunk, dear Elizabeth. And to be absolutely precise, I believe it was the drinking contest between your husband-to-be and Jocko that was the final straw for our rather bilious friend."

"Oh, he should know better than that." She grinned, somehow happy in the knowledge Richard was no better off than she was.

Sarah sat two glasses filled with a thick black fluid in it in front of the two sufferers. "Drink up, ladies. It will cure what ails you."

Rebecca paled a little when the odor hit her nose. She looked to Charlie, "Darling, would it be easier just to kill me?"

"I had to drink that stuff before I married you, dear. Turn about is fair play."

Rebecca nodded and picked up the cup. Closing her eyes she said a quick prayer, then downed it. Making a face reminiscent of Em when she had to take medicine, she slammed the glass down. "Oh, please do not ever let me do that again."

"Shall I lock up the rum, dear?"

--*--

The day remained clear, and by three in the afternoon, the ladies were all prepared for the great event. Elizabeth was lovely in ecru silk and ivory lace. Rebecca’s lavender and dove gray was sedate and understated. They were ready. Earlier that day, the gentleman who would give Elizabeth away joined them. He was an old friend of Elizabeth’s father, as well as having been an advocate for Elizabeth when she first entered service with the Army before the war began. Knowing that he would be recognized, with his close clipped beard, gray hair, and sad eyes, General Robert E. Lee donned his Confederate dress uniform for perhaps the last time. They were ready.

Charlie managed to get Richard put back together and both men had put on their dress uniforms in good form. Charlie had discarded his crutch a week before and was almost dapper with his new Malacca cane. The two men took their place before the altar. Reverend Williams signaled for the processional to start and everyone in the church turned to await the arrival of the bride. Mrs. Williams played the first chords and Elizabeth and her party stepped into the doorway.

Then suddenly the music stopped as the organist fainted dead away. Seeing her reaction, the entire crowd turned to see what had caused Mrs. Williams to stop playing. A few rushed to her side, fanning her and looking hastily in their reticules for some smelling salts. The rest of the congregation looked more closely at Elizabeth and the man who was her escort. Without a word, the assembled crowd stood in respect of the General. Mrs. Cooper smacked the now revived Mrs. Williams on the shoulder and the music began again.

Elizabeth walked in stately grace up the aisle to the eagerly waiting Richard. She took her place beside him, and her escort glanced over at Charlie. "Redmond," he nodded a graceful greeting.

"General Lee, Sir." Charlie smiled, and both men, along with the rest of the congregation turned to witness the marriage.

--*--

The guests assembled in the hall and reception room at the house. A gentle buzz went around the room, as they waited for the wedding party to arrive. Finally, Charlie’s larger carriage appeared. The best man and matron of honor dismounted first, followed by General Lee, representing Elizabeth’s family, and then the groom and his lovely bride. The five of them entered the house amid much laughter and applause. Richard and Elizabeth were occupied for quite a while greeting all of their guests; Charlie took the opportunity to retreat to a quiet corner, a comfortable chair. and a nearly private chat among the three attending generals.

Rebecca took the time to go and check on the children. The boys were sleeping, having just been fed and bathed, but Emily was sitting in her own little chair in her Sunday best waiting patiently for her Mama. "Em go to pawty?"

"Certainly, my darling girl. Come along, we can show Aunt Elizabeth what she can anticipate."

Mother and child slipped back downstairs, where Em immediately located her father. "Papa!" was a well enough known cry to clear a path for the very active child to make a beeline for her father. Charlie caught her and lifted her up in his arms. "General, may I present my daughter, Emily."

The older man smiled and offered his hand. "Miss Emily, how are you today?"

"Vewy well, tank you. How you?"

Charlie beamed. His little girl was becoming quite the little lady of the house. His smile faded a bit when he saw Mrs. Williams standing not to far off, obviously waiting for an introduction. Charlie sighed.

"General, may I please introduce one of the leading ladies of the community, Mrs. Williams?"

The General turned to the lady Charlie indicated. General Sheridan nodded to the woman coldly as Lee looked at his old students with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, yes, the wife of the minister, I believe. Madam, perhaps you need to get your organ repaired. Sheridan, do we know anyone who repairs organs? I would be happy to send someone to you." Lee turned back to Charlie and Emily. "Redmond, she is a lovely child. Somehow I always knew you would settle down."

"Thank you. She is the apple of her Papa's eye." Charlie said with the pride that only a father could have.

"A fine child. I am glad to see her Papa survived to see her grow into womanhood." The older man paused, and then went on, addressing both Charlie and Sheridan. "I understand we faced one another head on in those last few days. I commend you both. It was an excellent tactic."

Charlie could only nod politely. "I am just grateful it is over and I pray my sons never have to face the same challenges. I hope we have learned from our mistakes."

The party progressed with few social gaffs and much joy. The General Lee excused himself early. He had a train to catch to take him on to Lynchburg and the position that waited for him at Washington College. It was also a very good excuse to escape from Mrs. Williams, who had shadowed the man for most of the evening, proving she could be as obsequious with her social superiors as she was contentious with those she thought beneath her.

The last toast was drunk, the last dance ended, and more food consumed than was probably good for folks. Elizabeth and Richard departed in a lovely little basket trap amid flying flowers and rice, laughter ringing though the air. Very shortly after the bride and groom left, the last of the guests followed them down the road.

Rebecca stood there watching everyone leave with her arm wrapped securely around Charlie's waist. She looked up and smiled. "A lovely beginning, do you not think so, love?"

Charlie looked down at the blonde head resting on his shoulder and smiled. Standing together in the silence of the evening, he could almost hear her heart speaking to his. "Yes, a lovely beginning."

The End