Words Heard in Silence (6 page)

And who was she, who in a matter of a few days had his body, which had always been obedient to his mind, crying and aching for her touch? He was satisfied. The Army was his home. This was his fate, his future and most of his past. He did not want anything else. Now he was a five foot eleven inch vessel of barely restrained hunger and want.

The cynic, that pragmatic voice in his head that had helped him to survive undiscovered all these years told him that it was just a dream. He had been at war for too long and now before him was the Eden everyone dreamed of –– beautiful home, beautiful land, beautiful woman.

C
harlie returned to his command tent to dress. Jocko had laid out his dress uniform, carefully brushed and pressed. Boots, belt and leather straps were polished to a gleam, and each metal fitting and buckle was burnished.

"Well, Jocko’s done his best to make me look good. Now, if only I can maintain the image as well." Over the years of being alone, Charlie had developed the habit of talking aloud, often to just relieve the quiet of the solitude of his life. He kept his voice to a low murmur, so that others could not overhear him. It was still a somewhat distracting habit for those who worked around the Colonel.

With care, he donned the uniform. The tight moleskin britches with the broad red stripes down the sides tucked into his dress boots. A crisp linen dress shirt was topped with a carefully tied waterfall cravat. The tight weskit with the yellow facings that spoke of a master horseman went over that, and was topped with the blue frock coat with the red facings and the silver eagles embroidered on the shoulders that announced Charlie’s position as regimental Colonel. On top of that went the one piece of non-standard issue material, a rich red silk sash, wrapped twice around his waist, and tied so that the fringe brushed the top of his left boot. The wide belt that held his dress sword went over that. He tucked the fine kid gloves into his belt and slipped his hat under his arm. Using the small mirror that hung on his tent pole, he checked his hair, brushing it into place.

"Ah, the image of the perfect officer and gentleman. A shame that is all it is –– an image." With a suddenly bleak look in his eyes, Charlie squared his shoulders and walked up to the main house, his hat, and to be honest, his heart and hopes in his hands.

As he walked up toward the house, he could tell that Jocko and Jamison were already at work. The lawn around the main house had been scythed and trimmed. Surely, the back yard had received the same treatment. As he approached the portico, Jocko came hustling around the corner of the house. In his hands was a lovely bouquet of fresh picked flowers, late blooming asters and ferns. "For the Lady," he said. "Ye cannot go in there empty handed, Colonel C."

"Thanks Jocko, but I had something more substantial in mind for this evening. Like negotiating to make this our winter camp."

"I do not care what the business part is, Colonel C. Miss Rebecca is a lady, and you will treat her like one. Now, take my advice and take the flowers
.
"

Charlie snorted at the little bantam’s vehemence. Well, he had managed to charm an amazing number of women.

Charlie’s boots rang heavy on the brickwork of the portico as he mounted the steps and knocked polite on the great door. One of Jamison’s assistants opened the door, playing footman in proper form and his dress uniform. "Miss Rebecca is in the back parlor, Sir." Charlie followed the soldier cum footman to the parlor door.

Rebecca wore the lovely rose-colored dress that laid low on her shoulders and set off her fair complexion. The dress complimented her figure well. Charlie stood for a moment, gripping the flowers in his right hand, unable to summons a single word or thought. To Rebecca, he looked like a teenaged boy paying court to a lady for the first time. Her impression was closer than she knew.

As the silence between them stretched to an uncomfortable duration, Rebecca realized that they would remain there like a pair of statues if she did not do something. She rose from the chair she had been sitting in watching the beginnings of the sunset over the western hills and Jamison’s minions swarming over her property. Gently, she took the flowers from Charlie’s hand.

"Good evening, Colonel Redmond. Your men have been here much of the afternoon and I must say they have done wonders in just a few hours."

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.

A
s 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 to 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.