All my love, my heart, and soul to you.
Your Charlie
Eventually, all of Sheridan’s forces made it across the Gap. There was much milling and confusion as the troops reorganized, so Charlie had no time to write. Each night before he went to sleep, he pulled his little packet, carefully tied with one of Rebecca’s blue ribbons, from his pocket and read each letter in sequence. Some men prayed every night. Others drank. Charlie read his letters.
Elizabeth, who had been swamped with managing the complexities of mobile medical services, finally found a few minutes to herself on Saturday evening. She found Charlie sitting there, just holding his little package of letters between his hands and looking wistfully into the night sky. "You miss her?"
"You have to ask? I left my heart and soul back there, my friend. I can only pray that the rest of me can rejoin it when this is over."
"You will, Charlie, you will. Why else do you think they call you Lucky Charlie?"
--*--
Monday, March 6, 1865
The camp was packed and would move out at first light. Their objective was the great locks on the James River at Goochland Courthouse, which would cut yet another route to supply Lee’s forces. Without those locks, the Southern forces could not get boats or barges down river to provision the troops at Petersburg. It was an engineering problem, not a battle they were facing, and the cavalry would be used to guard against raiders to give the engineers time to complete their task. Rebecca’s letter was a welcome break from very routine action.
Saturday, March 4, 1865
Dearest Charlie,
I am sorry to hear the weather is causing so many problems for you. I wish this campaign could be an easy one. Or at least, I wish I were there to help.
I spoke with a lady the other day who is looking to possibly start a school here when the conflict has passed. She told me there are such things as 'camp wives' and she was one until her husband was killed at Antietam. You are very lucky I did not know that, or ……
I love you and miss you so much.
It was lovely to speak with her as she knew Andrew and had spoken with him just a day before his death. She said he was a delightful and charming young man who spoke proudly of Culpeper and his sister. That is why she has decided to come here.
Em has finally named the puppy, Papa. Sounds like our Em does it not? She is not crying as much now. Every night at prayers she remembers you, her mama, the puppy, and me, in that order.
I hope the weather clears for you soon and I hope you continue to draw the less dangerous duty. I cannot help it, my love. I want you home, safe and sound.
My love to Richard and the boys and a hug for Elizabeth.
Eternally yours,
Rebecca
--*--
Monday, March 6, 1865
Darling Wife,
Elizabeth and Richard stopped by my tent last night, so I had no opportunity to answer your letter as soon as I received it, as is my usual pattern. I conveyed your message to them, as well as tales of young Em and ‘‘Papa’.
I am not sure I am particularly happy about having the dog named after me, although perhaps the little bitch is more aptly named than Em knows. But if it keeps her from grieving at the window, I will suffer the animal to carry my moniker.
We move out this morning, headed east and south to block as many supply routes as possible. I will continue this letter when I have a moment.
Charlie hastily tucked the unfinished note into his traveling secretary, stuffed the leather folder into his saddlebag and mounted up. Finally, the rain had stopped, the only blessing in an otherwise miserable campaign.
--*--
Tuesday, March 7, 1865
Rebecca and Em where on the floor playing with a new carved horse Charlie had sent along with his last letter. Duncan had taken some spare time to whittle it, and the proud papa sent it along as soon as it was ready.
Em held the toy up for inspection. "Papa sent?"
"Yes, sweetheart, Papa sent you this toy."
"Miss Papa." She put the toy down on the floor gently, making it run across the floor in small movements. "Papa come home?"
"Papa will be home just as soon as he can. I promise."
The door opened into the parlor and Beulah entered. "Miss Rebecca?"
"Yes?"
"Ma'am, uh, there is a woman here, wanting to speak with General Charlie."
"I will tend to it. Can you take Em up for her nap?"
"Of course."
Rebecca got up from the floor, leaving Em in the care of the maid. She walked to the entry where she found a young woman with a carpetbag at her feet and a baby bundled in her arms. "May I help you?"
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I am looking for General Charles Redmond. I was told he had headquartered here."
"I am sorry. General Redmond and his men left a few weeks ago. I am his wife. How can I help you?"
"His wife! How could he?"
"It was only a matter of getting the minister to officiate. Now would you mind telling me why you are calling after my husband?"
The woman started crying. "But, but he promised... he told me that he would take care of me and our child... oh, how could he." She dissolved into loud wailing.
"Excuse me?" Rebecca tried to bite back a grin. She knew she was going to have to get to the bottom of this.
"Look. Look at this child. The hair, the eyes. This is Charlie's child. And I was to be his wife. And now, nothing, nowhere to go, no home..." The wailing got louder.
Rebecca managed to remove the infant from the woman. She had to admit it was a handsome child and, if Charlie had been capable of procreation, it could have been his. "Let us go to the parlor and discuss this shall we?"
As they walked toward the back parlor, the woman began a diatribe. "I cannot believe he has done this to us. He promised me. He told me he would take me away from the place I was in and give me a good life, care for our children, and build a home after the war. Then he just goes and throws it all away for you and, I suppose, for this place."
Rebecca settled down on the davenport, carefully looking over the child, who was not more than a month old. Its bright eyes tracked her every movement. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"It is a boy, ma'am. I call him Charlie."
"I see, and you say my husband is his father? Where did this take place? I mean he is my husband. I have a right to know."
"We met in Washington at the home of a mutual friend. We saw one another frequently for over a month while he was there. Then when he was sent back into the field, I found that I could no longer stay with my friends in the city."
Rebecca looked at the woman and tried not to laugh in her face. "And you have come here because……" She left the rest of the question to be answered by her visitor.
"I have come here to find Charlie and to claim my rights and the rights of my child. He owes us. He owes his son a future and his son's mother a home."
Rebecca sighed. "Well, I will tell you what I know for a fact, Miss……?"
"My name is Hobart, Alison Hobart."
"Well, Miss Hobart. I will share with you that I know that Charles Redmond is not the father of this child. Now would you like to tell me why you have decided to lay the blame at his feet?"
"Mrs. Redmond, your husband is indeed the father of this child. Look at his hair, his eyes and tell me if you do not see your husband's features there."
"While this child does resemble General Redmond, it is but a newborn and newborns often look like many people. There is a little girl in this house right now who most certainly is not General Redmond's daughter, but to look at her you would never know that. My husband is blessed with classical features. Now, please tell me why you want to blame my husband for this?"
"Because your husband is an honorable man, who I am sure will care for his child and his child's mother."