Applause broke out as Charlie set the little girl down on her own two feet. "Your curtsy, if you please, Miss Emily."
Emily looked up to him and ran her tongue between her lips. They had secretly been practicing this every morning during breakfast and she knew what she was supposed to do. Very carefully, she held the hem of her skirt and executed her curtsy.
Charlie beamed. His little girl was starting to grow up. If he were very lucky, he would see that curtsy many more times.
Elizabeth called the child to her. "Emily, you are two now, and two year olds are starting to grow up. So tell us, which do you want first –– your dinner or your presents?"
Emily looked at every face in the room. All of which were desperate to hide grins. She looked to her Papa and sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "Dinnew."
Rebecca was also beaming. Her little girl could think about others, something that was very important, in her opinion. "Well, little one, I think that perhaps our guests could wait for their dinner while you opened one present." Just then, a suspicious little yip was heard from the basket Duncan was holding.
Rebecca turned her head very slowly in Duncan's direction. "Is there something you want to tell us about your basket, Sergeant Nailer?"
"Um, yes, m..m..ma’am. Miss Em, the b..boys found this little g..girl and we thought you wo..would like her." The yipping had grown louder and just then a small head, white with black and brown markings, popped up out of the basket. "Tis a terrier, m……ma’am. A Jack Russell bitch."
Em clapped her hands together and looked to Rebecca for permission. When it was granted with a slight nod, Em joyfully ran across the room to Duncan and her new puppy.
Charlie looked on as Emily clasped the squirming puppy to her chest. "Upstaged by my own men –– again!"
--*--
Monday, February 20, 1865
The weekend had been unremarkable in most ways, other than the challenges presented by trying to house break a puppy and teach a two year old what was and was not appropriate behavior with said animal. Charlie woke early, as normal, and took a morning run in a fine, cold misty rain. Winter was not quite ready to release its hold.
He returned to the house, cleaned up and settled into his office to read the normal dispatches. There on top of the pile of documents that were a normal part of his life was a telegram.
A sense of dread clutched at his stomach. Telegrams usually meant bad news. He sat for a good five minutes with the envelope in his hand, hesitating to open it, knowing what was probably in it.
Finally, he read the dreaded but not unexpected words.
Prepare to mobilize stop Troops to be field ready within seven days stop Sheridan
The flimsy yellow paper drifted from Charlie’s numb fingers. It was time. He sat there in a stupor, for how long, he had no idea. Then the door opened and Rebecca came in with the mid-morning tea.
She stopped as soon as she saw the look on his face; approaching him slowly she placed the tray on the desk. "It is bad news."
Silently, he picked up the telegraph and handed it to her.
Her hands were trembling as she took the paper from him, tears forming in her eyes before she had even read the first line.
Chapter 30
Monday, February 20, 1865
Rebecca and Charlie finally shook themselves and set about the immediate tasks before them.
Rebecca left to consult with Reg, Beulah and Sarah. She had to see to her household, making sure she had the supplies, medicines and equipment she would need once the men and the facilities they provided were gone. She knew Charlie would be leaving a contingent of men behind in Culpeper. Some of the men remaining were mustering out because their terms were completed and they had chosen to make Culpeper their home. Others would be left behind to man a key communications center on the always-vital rail line. Housing would have to be found for the new residents as well as quarters for the small detachment remaining behind.
Meanwhile, Charlie sat at his desk and started drafting orders for his men. The daily lunch meeting of officers would be interesting, to say the least, as he would be asking one company commanders to volunteer to stay behind.
Charlie walked into the Officers’ Mess tent and took his place at the head of the table. As usual, the officers were chatting amongst themselves as troopers served lunch under Jamison’s watchful eye. When Charlie joined them for lunch, he usually sat, was served and ate with them, then carried on whatever discussion he wanted to have after the meal was over. Today was different. He stood, silent, at his place at the long table until he had the attention of every man there.
"Gentlemen, we have received orders. We are to be ready to march within one week."
A rumble of sound went around the table, some grumbling, and some eager to be back in the field. Young Avery of Company I spoke up first. "General, do you know where we are bound?"
"No, not yet. I do know we will be heading south, but beyond that, no. General Sheridan always keeps his plans close to his vest. So we go where we are told, when we are told –– as usual." Charlie stopped for a minute. "However, one company is not going to be joining us. We have been ordered to leave a detachment here in Culpeper to guard the railhead from marauders and maintain communications. It is inevitable there will be a number of deserters –– we are already starting to see it happen –– and we will need guards here to maintain civil order as they start to return to their homes, or what is left of them. They will be hungry, probably angry and desperate. It will not be easy service."
Dewees of Company C, eager to prove his company’s loyalty after the problems with Montgomery, spoke up first. "But, Sir, if one company is left behind, they will not be there to participate in the glorious finale."
Charlie raised his eyebrow at Dewees. "Captain, I hardly think the finale, as you call it, will be glorious. General Grant has held General Lee’s forces pinned in Richmond and Petersburg for over two months. We know the siege has been at least partially effective, as we continue to cut their supply lines. Going against men who are half starved, short on clothing, supplies, food, and ammunition is hardly glorious. It is simply the inevitable end to this miserable war. Be at ease, Captain Dewees. Your company won the right to stand as vanguard at the gymkhana; I will not reverse that status now. But put out of your mind that the coming battles will be glorious. They will be anything but."
"Gentlemen, it is my thought we will want to cull a company from among all of your men –– choosing those men who are technically fit for light duty, but whose injuries have not completely healed or have left them with some limitations. In addition, I would like to cull out those men whose terms of service have expired, muster them out if they wish and provide them with the means to either return home or settle here in the Culpeper area." A buzz went around the room. A number of the men from the original Pennsylvania troops were still feeling the effects of their injuries. But not one of them was ready to voluntarily excuse themselves from these last days of the war.
"I will need a volunteer to remain behind and command our communications detachment." Charlie waited a moment. No one jumped up to volunteer. "Then discuss it amongst yourselves. If no one volunteers, we will draw straws tomorrow at lunch." He turned to Captain Dewees. "You, sir, because of the special circumstances with Company C, will be excluded from the draw, if you wish." The other company commanders nodded their heads in agreement.
"Until then, I expect each of you to initiate immediate mobilization efforts. Tear down any temporary structures, clean up any areas, fill the latrines, et cetera. Colonel Polk and I will develop any special orders as we progress. For now, start your men getting their own equipment in order."