Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber Read online

  Shaking himself, Charlie remembered his manners –– finally. He took her outstretched hand in his own and gently brushed his lips over the back of her fingers. "It is our honor, Ma’am. You have extended your hospitality to me and my men; we could do no less."

  An ironic laugh was forced out of Rebecca at that. "Sir, if you were representative of all of the union officers and men I have seen in these terrible times, there would not have been a war in the first place. But then, you and I would have never met."

  Charlie gulped. She was flirting with him. Flirting. That little voice in his head started to coach him. Ah, time to be the gallant Colonel, Charlie. Surely you can find something charming to say, you fraud.

  "Then, Madam, I would have willingly gone through the very gates of hell for the honor of meeting you." A gentle smile curled Charlie’s lip.

  She looked up into his eyes. Dressed as he was, standing in such a strangely shy, yet attentive posture, he was surely one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. His face was slightly weathered, tanned and with small creases around his eyes caused by years in the sun and wind, but it only served to set off the eerie blue gray that was almost silver. His hair, dark as a raven’s wing, had the first hints of gray at the temples. The only thing missing was any facial hair at a time when every other man she knew sported some hirsute adornment. Yet, she knew that beneath that masculine exterior was skin that was warm and soft, like the palest ivory velvet. The dichotomy that was Charlie Redmond fascinated her.

  The young trooper who was serving as the footman for the evening cleared his throat at the door. "Supper is ready whenever you care to adjourn to the pond, Sir."

  "Thank you." Charlie spied Rebecca’s shawl thrown across the back of the davenport in the small parlor. He caught it up and gently settled it around her shoulders, then offered her his arm to escort her to dinner.

  She slid her hand into the curve of his arm and together, they followed the young trooper back to the hall and out the back door. The aroma of fresh cut grass rose up as they strolled toward the little plaza by the water. Jamison had set torches on poles around the area. A small table was set under the willow, with candles and a cloth. Two chairs from the dining room had been brought down for them.

  Rebecca was stunned by how lovely the men had made the grounds look through the day. She had done her best to keep things neat, but the men had really out done themselves. "Its lovely, Colonel. I have always wanted to have this as a place for alfresco suppers."

  "Miss Rebecca, your property is beautiful. I cannot imagine anyone who had this land ever wanting to leave."

  "I must admit, I do love this land. But I fear that with no income, and no way to create income, when things have settled, and it comes time to settle with the taxman, I will lose it."

  Just at that moment, Jamison brought the first course to the table. He had found some mush melons and had carefully wrapped paper-thin strips of country ham around bite sized slices of the sweet melon. They savored the choice tidbits as the sky darkened to a vivid palette of sunset pinks, purples and reds.

  "So tell me about this land. What do you grow here?"

  Rebecca laughed. "We used to grow horses. And hay, alfalfa, timothy, some grain and feed corn."

  The rest of the meal was spent discussing the advantages of this rolling land, stitched with small creeks, guarded with small stands of first growth forest that provided shelter from sudden storms. They spoke of various breeds of horses, the advantages and disadvantages of each. Rebecca loved the gentle beasts, and had been heart broken when her own special mount, a spirited thoroughbred mare, had been conscripted along with the rest of the family’s herd.

  Supper was a success. As promised, Jamison had found a stream with trout, fresh greens and a lovely squash that he roasted. To this he added a small venison roast that one of the scouts had brought in from the western hills. Dessert was roast apples gently seasoned with cinnamon from his own personal horde of spices. When the meal was over, the troopers removed the remains of the meal, leaving them alone.

  As they sat in comfortable silence, enjoying a cup of Charlie’s own special coffee and a small glass of brandy, Charlie geared himself up to broach the true reason for this evening’s elegance.

  "Ah, Miss Rebecca? I would like to ask you something, and maybe offer you a solution for some of your problems."

  "I hate to say this, but how can a Yankee officer help me with my problems?"

  "Well, we need a place to winter. Your land is ideal; there is plenty of pasture and water for our horses, and room for my men to have reasonably comfortable quarters. It is close to the rail lines, but protected. In return, we will put your barns and stables back in shape, and will provide you with some basic brood stock –– some mares, a good stud stallion, some asses so you can also breed mules?"

  "Why Colonel Redmond, if I did not know better I would think you were trying to take advantage of my person, and offering me this as your payment." She turned away from him, so that he could not see that he was being teased as she tried to evaluate the possibilities that he had just offered her.

  "No, no, I did not mean it that way, really, Miss Rebecca. I just……." Charlie stopped, helpless before what he feared was her injured sense of honor.

  She turned to face him again. Gently, she covered his hand, lying loose and open on the table, and looked into the sad eyes of the person before her. "Let me think on it, Charlie. Let me think on it. Now, it is getting chilly and we both have much to do tomorrow. Will you escort me to the house?"

  He rose, and held her chair. Quietly, he took her hand in his own and folded it over his arm. Silently, the two of them walked up to the house. It was quiet; the troopers had returned to their own billets. A lamp had been left lit in the hall, and a few others were lit upstairs.

  Charlie escorted her to the foot of the stairs, intending to let her go and then return to his own tent. Each night, he had offered to leave her and return to his own narrow camp bed. But each night, Rebecca had other ideas. Tonight was no different. As he stopped at the foot of the stairs, she said, "Turn the lamp out, Colonel."

  "Miss Rebecca?"

  "You shoulder needs tending."

  "Miss Rebecca, Jocko can take care of it for me. I do not want to impose."

  "I told you, while you are here, you sleep in a real bed, not that camp cot. Come along."

  His mind told him that it would be infinitely better if he went back to his cot. The experience of waking in the middle of the night with her in his arms was terrifying. It was fire, fear and yearning. He knew that if this continued, the wanting would grow beyond his ability to handle it. But the wanting was already there. Just to hold a beautiful woman in his arms was like heaven –– a few moments when he could escape from the hell, the fear and the hopelessness of his life. Charlie turned the small wheel that lowered the wick and followed her up the stairs.

  --*--

  Sunday, November 6, 1864

  As the first pale light of pre-dawn lit the sky, Charlie awoke. Once again, Rebecca lay safe within the circle of those long, wiry arms. Once again, Charlie’s night had been shortened by the feel of her warmth and gentle presence, and what little sleep had been possible was illuminated by dreams of what, in Charlie’s mind, could never be.

  Slipping from the warmth of those arms and the down comforter that covered them both, into the chill morning air, Charlie pulled his clothes on, leaving the boots for downstairs in order to not awaken the sleeping woman. This morning, he was unsuccessful in his efforts to be quiet. Sleepy green eyes blinked opened, as he was about to slip out the door.

  "Good morning, Colonel Redmond." A sly, soft smile played around the blonde’s lips.

  "Good morning to you, Miss Rebecca. I am sorry. I did not mean to awaken you. Its very early, so go back to sleep, dear lady."

  "Oh, I am awake now –– and not because of you. I feel more rested than I have for as long as I can remember."

  "Well, then, I will leave you t
o your morning’s ablutions. I have to tend to my flock of lost boys out there, and we have a staff meeting this morning. But perhaps this afternoon, you would do me the honor of joining me for a ride? I would like to talk more about the request I made last night."

  "Colonel Redmond, I love to ride. But as you know, I have no horse."

  "I believe that one of my mounts will take you. I have used her before as a woman’s mount, and she goes sweetly under a sidesaddle. You do have a saddle, I hope, for I do not normally carry such equipment in my kit" Charlie’s self-deprecating smile was endearing.

  "Yes, I still have my saddle. It is the one piece of tack that was not requisitioned for the war. But I fear I still cannot join you."

  "Oh." Charlie’s voice was flat. He turned away from her to fiddle with his tie, hiding the pain that welled up in his chest at the rejection. He knew it was coming. He just did not expect it so soon. "Then I am sorry I imposed on you." The dreams and fantasies of wintering over here in this place, with this charming woman, evaporated in that instant.

  Rebecca heard Charlie’s controlled withdrawal. She softened her voice, somewhat embarrassed by the situation. Rising slightly, holding the covers modestly over her body, she smiled. "Its not that I would not love to join you, Colonel Redmond. The problem is that I cannot get into my riding habit by myself, and my ladies maid ran off some time ago."

  Charlie turned back to face Rebecca, a playful smile flirting around his lips. "Well, my dear lady. That can be fixed if you are willing to let an old war dog play ladies maid. I did, once upon a time, know how to do these things."

  Rebecca, blushing a little, smiled again. The idea of a real ride after so many months with no mount thrilled her. "Then, sir, I will see you after lunch? And we will see if you can handle buttons as well as you handle reins."

  --*--

  Rebecca made the bed; unconsciously, she lovingly smoothed the pillow that Charlie used, a slight smile playing on her lips the entire time. She was truly excited about the thought of riding later in the day. She felt almost giddy with the prospect. Not only would it be wonderful to have a horse under her again, she could not imagine more charming company than the Colonel.

  She tidied the room then dressed for the day. Before leaving her room, she retrieved her riding habit, placing it on the bed to be changed into when Charlie returned to the house.

  She enjoyed a nice breakfast of more fruit and cheese the Colonel had provided as she considered where to start her day. Looking out the back door, she saw Jocko bringing a group of men toward the house. Smoothing her apron, she stepped out to the back porch.

  "Good morning, Sergeant." Rebecca greeted him as he climbed the steps. Rebecca knew that if possible she would have to form some sort of friendship with this man. He was important to Charlie and she knew his opinion of her would go a long way in her friendship with the Colonel.

  "Mornin’ Ma’am. Colonel Redmond has sent us to continue with the repairs to the property. Where would you like the men to start?"

  She smiled. She was not quite sure what her answer would be. She was sure Charlie had ideas about where the men should be working. "That is entirely up to you, Sergeant."

  "Well, then Ma’am I will set some of the boys off to the barns to start there. Is there anything you need here at the house?"

  Her mind thought of the roof. "Sir, there is a small problem with the roof, over the kitchen."

  "Then a couple of our boys will take care of that for you."

  "Thank you, Sergeant."

  --*--

  Charlie walked back to his command tent in the dim light of false dawn. His step was light, as was his heart. He felt full of energy, even though he had slept very little that night.

  There was still hope that this would be their winter quarters. There was still the chance that the little fantasy of peace and a home could be played for at least a few weeks.

  Charlie entered camp quietly, slipping silently into the command tent. Jocko had been thoughtful; laid out on the bed was his normal day uniform, cleaned and ready to wear.

  Charlie lit the oil lamp on the command desk and dove into the paperwork that always accompanied the movement of troops. Requisitions for supplies, for ammunition, for winter boots and blankets and medical supplies and new tents –– the lists were endless and the need for supplies never fully filled. The number of shysters who supplied the Army was appalling, and often the quality of the supplies they did receive was shoddy at best.

  Charlie sighed deeply. Sometimes the best he could do for his boys, no matter how hard he begged, borrowed and called in favors from the past was not enough. The last batch of boots they had gotten in for the troopers were made of green leather –– as soon as they got wet, the boots shrank and became stiff as a plank. Well, if they could winter over here, the men could do some of their own repairs. It would not be enough, but it would help.

  Completing the requisitions, Charlie turned to the daily report to Sheridan and his command officers. He was very careful in his wording, as he described to his commanding officer the site that he hoped to use as his winter camp.

  Nov. 6, 1864

  Outside of Culpeper, Virginia

  Lieut. General Philip H. Sheridan

  Department of the Shenandoah

  Dear General Sheridan

  As you recommended, I have been looking for a sound site for the 13th Pennsylvania to winter over. I believe I have found such a site, and am in discussion with the owners to facilitate this process.

  We are currently camped outside of Culpeper, surrounding the railhead here. The position is excellent for a number of reasons. By controlling the railhead, our troops can control any shipments going either north or east out of Charlottesville. This position is something of a crossroads and positions our forces to be able to respond quickly to any requirement here on the eastern face of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We are only one day’s hard ride from Fredericksburg, should the entrenchments there require our support.

  The land here is designed to support horses. There is extensive pasturage and small creeks with clear, fresh water lace the land. In addition, it is a protected area; with rolling hills that extend out from the Blue Ridge, providing sheltered dells and soft valleys.

  The men I brought east with me are settling in well, and the 13th is reintegrating slowly after the devastation of the Wilderness campaign. I have been extending myself, as always, to ensure the men have what they need, or as much of what they need as I can get them, given the problems that the War Office seems to be having with suppliers.

  If you could, please remind your supply officer to check into the last problem with shoes and boots we had. My men cannot have rawhide footwear for the winter.

  The site I have selected to house my headquarters is the home of a young woman who was widowed by the war. The facility was a stud farm, with excellent barns and stables already present. Although there is nowhere near enough stabling for all of our mounts, it will provide us with the space to care for the injured animals properly.

  In addition, there are extensive outbuildings that can be used to house our injured staff and as starting points for building out our half-timbered winter tents.

  General, this part of Virginia has been less physically damaged than some. It offers the residents a hope for a reasonable life after this terrible conflict concludes. I would like to provide our hostess with the means to meet the conditions of the new order that will inevitable emerge after the armistice is reached. We have several mares, both horse and ass, that will never be sound enough to serve the army again, but would be ideal brood mares to put this horse farm back into operations after the war. The 13th Pennsylvania has a tradition of taking care of the civilians who support them, as do I as their latest Regimental Commander. I seek your support for this plan.

  Assuming that I can negotiate a reasonable agreement for the winter housing of our troops here, I would like to request that Dr. Walker be assigned to my staff again. Many men are still sufferi
ng from the results of their respective battle experiences. Some of the men in the original 13th Pennsylvania have lingering injuries from The Wilderness campaign, and some of my original boys from the 49th Ohio still suffer the effects of malnutrition and parasites that resulted from that hell before Vicksburg. Her skill as a long-term care physician would be welcome.

  I hope to complete the negotiations with the local residents within the next few days and be able to focus my energy on settling the men for the winter and establishing appropriate patrols to support the efforts to keep supplies from heading east to relieve Petersburg and Richmond.

  Cordially

  Chas. Redmond

  Regimental Colonel

  13 th Pennsylvania Light Cavalry

  "Well," Charlie mumbled to himself. "That pretty much said it all. I know Phil Sheridan will assume that I have taken a shine to the lady. And he will be right. But that pretty much makes the argument for the location." He had not mentioned that he intended to leave one of his personal mounts as the stud for Rebecca’s little herd.

  Reveille had sounded while Charlie was writing his dispatch to General Sheridan. He folded and sealed the document, dropping it into the dispatch bag that hung on the tent pole, and set off on his usual morning rounds, starting with breakfast with the troops at the general mess or at one of the many small cook fires around the camp.

  Mid-morning found Charlie reviewing the picket lines. He found the head hostler and the farrier in deep conference.

  "Good morning, Tarent, MacFarlane." Both men snapped crisp salutes to their commanding officer. "What have we here?"

  "Major Montgomery’s primary mount, sir. Appears she has thrown a shoe and he rode 'til she was dead lame. Her hoof is split - bad. Nasty rips where the nails came out, and the frog is bruised as well. There is swelling up into the leg; I cannot tell how bad it is right now."

  MacFarlane, the farrier spoke up. "Yes, sir. I agree. The only thing we can do for now is bind the hoof, tack a shoe on to help keep it together and keep the horse in a loose stall. The hoof is too damaged for me to be able to do anything with a special shoe."