Words Heard in Silence (41 page)

Charlie shook his head, and argued back with the voice. Alone, his old habit of talking out loud to himself returned. "No, that is not how it is. I needed to do the survey of the county. And I needed a little space. The worst I did here was I did not think --"

"Oh, no. You cannot say that. There are too many times when I have gone against orders or found innovative ways to follow them that have saved lives, not taken them." Slowing it was dawning on Charlie. Every so often, the bitter voice in his head was simply wrong. Could it be that that voice was wrong about Rebecca and him? Charlie was beginning to have a glimmer of hope. "Enough. I did something foolish, but not something evil. And maybe in relationships things happen that are painful at the time. But we can talk, and work things out, because what we could have together is more important than the hurt in the moment.

Just then Charlie heard a ruckus in the entrance hall. He emerged, towel still in hand, dressed in trousers, shirt and vest, barefoot and irate that someone would make noise that might disturb Rebecca. It was Polk, along with Harriman, Jocko and Reg, finally having returned from Novum.

"Quiet. You will disturb her." Charlie gave them all a baleful eye.

Jocko spoke up. "So, is Miss Rebecca all right, sir? We were all worried."

"Miss Rebecca is fine. She has a mild concussion and is resting. Go get cleaned up. Jocko, please check on Black Jack; I rode him rather hard. Now, off with you all. We will speak tomorrow." With that, Charlie stalked back upstairs, leaving them whispering to themselves.

Reg volunteered to go check with Beulah and find out the real story. The other three retired to the front steps to share a cigar and wait for word. The report was soon delivered, at least the bare bones. Harriman looked at a loss, but Polk and Jocko each vowed to do whatever he could to lessen the load on Miss Rebecca. She had taken on caring for so many of them, that they could only return the service.

S
lipping into the bedroom, Charlie just stood at the side of the bed, gazing down on her sleeping form, so innocent in repose, and marred by the purple bruise on her forehead. His mind went to the bruises that Mr. Gaines had placed on that small body in anger, and the voice in his head started up again.

Charlie knelt beside the bed, and pressed her hand to his lips, almost in a prayer. "I promise you, love, I will do everything in my power to keep from hurting you again. I know I will not always be successful. I know that going back to war in the spring will be agony for both of us, but I have no choice. I can promise to do my best to be safe and to come back to you whole. And I can promise that I will always let you know what I am thinking and feeling so you will worry as little as possible." He rose from his knees and gently began waking her again.

In a sleepy voice, she responded. "Charlie?"

"Yes, love. I am right here."

"Ummm, come hold me, please."

He shed his vest and slipped into bed, clad in trousers and shirt. He settled her body against his shoulder and went through the short series of tests that Elizabeth had said she needed to have administered hourly.

Warm and safe again, Rebecca slipped back into sleep as soon as Charlie allowed her to. For the rest of the night, Charlie held her, awake and caring, waking her every hour to check for any damage from the concussion.

A
round dawn, Elizabeth entered, to find Charlie fighting sleep valiantly, still holding the sleeping woman in his arms.

"How is she?"

"She seems fine. The headache is easing and her vision seems to be fine."

Charlie smiled appreciatively at his old friend, and slid out from under Rebecca so that Elizabeth could conduct her examination. As Charlie moved, Rebecca grew restless, whimpering in her sleep and clearly looking for something. Charlie smiled gently and a bit ruefully. Elizabeth stifled a laugh. Her examination was quick but thorough.

"My friend, she is doing fine. With a little sleep, she will be as good as new. I would say that it is time for you to get some sleep as well. Richard has things well in hand, I am sure."

Charlie nodded and walked Elizabeth to the door. He stripped off his trousers, and crawled back into bed wearing his shirt and underwear. The two curled around one another and sleep took them both until early afternoon.

R
ebecca woke first, happy to be cradled in Charlie’s long arms. She lay there quietly, her eyes closed; savoring the feelings of safety and peace she felt when they were wrapped together like this. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up into Charlie’s face. Even sleeping, his features showed the stress of the past day; a slight frown cut a furrow between his heavy eyebrows. In the slanting afternoon light that slipped between the edges of the curtains, she could see the fine, silver hairs that were starting to mark his temples. Her slight movements were enough to awaken him; he looked back into her eyes with all of the love and concern she ever hoped to see.

"Good morning, sleepyhead, or should I say good afternoon?"

"Good afternoon, my noble pillow. I am glad you got some sleep, dear."

"How is your head this afternoon?"

"A bit tender, and I still have a touch of a headache, but otherwise, not too bad."

"And the rest of you, dear?"

"The rest is probably a bit tender, too, but I am to comfortable here with you to really notice it."

"Then, obviously, you must stay where you are most comfortable." Charlie settled his arms around her more securely to reinforce his offer.

They spoke of little things, their dreams for the time after the war of building a great stud farm, of having a home that would be open to their friends, a gracious place where all would be welcome, of having a life together that suited them both. Their talk turned to their pasts, as Rebecca spoke of the time before the war and of the horse farm her father had raised her on. Finally she asked Charlie how a raw recruit had become a career officer.

"That, my love, was a matter of sheer luck. And perhaps a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were forty-seven hundred men serving under Zachary Taylor. Santa Anna, with twenty thousand troops, backed us into this maze of canyons that the locals called Buena Vista. There were lots of little dead ends and no obvious way out. The cliffs that bordered them were sheer and looked too high to climb. Just to make matters worse, it was raining and the cliffs were slick with mud. But climb them we did, using ladders and ropes, mostly. Through the night we climbed, mostly in the dark, with our work lit by the fires from Santa Anna’s camp reflecting off the clouds and occasional flashes of lightening. I had made sergeant by then, and our lieutenant had been killed in the skirmishes that backed us into this hole in the first place. A captain came by and appointed me acting lieutenant in his place. We abandoned the horses, and used pulleys to haul some light artillery up the cliffs. By morning, most of our troops were hidden up on top of the canyon walls. When Santa Anna’s troops entered the canyon, intending to cut us down, we let loose on them. Santa Anna called a withdrawal. They said I had served well, and confirmed my brevet as permanent. They even sent me to school at the Academy. Now that was an experience, let me tell you."

"The Academy?"

"Yes, up at West Point."

"You graduated from West Point?"

"Yes. A couple of the junior officers convinced General Taylor and General Scott that I was officer material, so when the war was over in ‘48, they sent me. It was rather strange actually. I was a bit older than most of the boys at the school, and I had already seen action. So they gave me a private room, thank God, for I am not sure how I would have handled things for the three years I was there if they had not done so. They let me take extra classes and stay over during the summer, so I went through the curriculum in three years instead of four. When I graduated, the Commandant gave me the rank of captain, since I had gone in as a lieutenant. All in all, it was a good time for me."

"You must know just about all of the officers in the Army, then."

"My dear, between the Mexican War and this conflict, the career officers could all fit in this house for a party. I think we all know each another, either because we were at school together, fought together in Mexico, or served together at one point or another. I think that may be part of why this war has been so terrible. We do know one another, and to some extent, we can anticipate what the other side will do because of that. It is very hard to fight against men you have known as comrades in arms for twenty years." Charlie grew silent, lost again in the pain of this war. He had served under Lee, had gone to school with Early, taken classes from Grant and Jackson. These men were his friends, and to some extent, the only family he knew. And now, they prepared to face one another across the final battle lines.

Rebecca gathered him into her arms, just holding him, trying to ease the bleakness that thoughts of the war and of his friends on both sides had brought to his soul. "Someday," she whispered, "it will be over. And we will be able to rebuild at least some of what we have lost."

A
s Charlie slipped out the door after lunch, little Em tried to follow him, which resulted in the little girl falling and scraping her hand and knee. Her cries grew louder as she cried for Papa while shaking her hand.

Rebecca was quick to scoop her up and take her to the kitchen to get her calmed down and cleaned up. The child sniffed and wanted to continue with her fit but under Rebecca’s loving care, she found it very difficult.

She did however continue to look toward the door for Charlie. "Papa gone." She sniffed, watching as Rebecca cleaned her knee with a warm cloth.

"Papa will be back for supper, Em. He has work to do."

"Work?"

Rebecca chuckled and turned the little hand over to clean its palm. "Yes, Papa work."

Em looked to her hand then to Rebecca and she raised it. "Kiss."

"Of course." Rebecca planted a tender kiss on the little hand. "Better?"

She was rewarded with a hug around her neck. The child yawned and fussed with her scraped hand, then started playing with a ribbon on Rebecca’s dress while leaning against her knee. It was obvious that Em was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Sleepy, Em?"

"Em not sweepy."

"I think maybe you are. I am. Lets go up for a nap, little one. Your mama is already napping, you can lay down with her." She picked the child up, cuddling her close to her as she made her way upstairs.

A
fter Em was safely tucked in with Constance, Rebecca went to check on Montgomery. Samuelson was with him when she entered the room and crossed to the bed. She took a seat on the opposite side and took Montgomery’s hand. "Major? Major Montgomery? Sir, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

She looked down at his hand in hers and waited. She sighed and looked to Samuelson. "If you dare tell on me for what I am about to do, I will..."

"Ma’am?" Samuelson had a bemused look on his face, having no idea what Miss Rebecca was planning.

Rebecca turned her attention back to Montgomery. "Major, Colonel Redmond wanted me to pass along to you that you have done enough lollygagging in the infirmary and it is time for you to get back to your command."

She waited again then smiled when she felt a tentative squeeze to her hand. Samuelson’s eyes went wide as he saw her reaction. "It worked?"

"So it would seem." She patted the man’s hand. "I will go tell Dr. Walker."

She left the room, going to Elizabeth’s examination room. The doctor was in the process of trying to get a small boy of about five to open his mouth so she could finish her examination. "Now come on, Jamie, open up and let me see why your throat is hurting."

With lips clamped firmly shut the boy shook his head. Rebecca chuckled and joined Elizabeth. She knelt down and placed her hands on the boy’s legs. "Jamie, do you like horehound drops?"