Emily is trying very hard to understand that Papa is gone, but will be home as soon as he can. She asks for you every night and always remembers you during prayers.
Please take care my darling. We wait for your return.
Your loving wife,
Rebecca
She laid Charlie's letter to the side to let the ink dry. Then she set pen to paper for yet another letter.
Tuesday, March 7, 1865
Dear Mrs. Armstrong,
I am sure I am the last person from whom you ever expected to receive correspondence. However, a situation has arisen that I believe you should be aware of because you are a dear friend of Charlie’s.
First, let me reassure you, that as far as I know, Charlie is fine. I have not received any word of the opposite, so I must believe he is well.
The reason I am writing you now is to tell you of a visit I had from a woman who claims to have been in your employ. Her name is Alison Hobart. She arrived on my doorstep yesterday with a newly born baby son, who, to my private amusement, she tried to blame on Charlie.
I gave her funds, relieved her of the baby, and sent her on her way. I believe you need to know what this woman is trying to do. She specifically mentioned she remembered Charlie from his visits to your establishment.
I will admit to you, a certain amount of pleasure when I could confront her with the truth, that Charlie had only ever come to visit you and I knew of his relationship with you. You have never seen a woman go so pale so quickly.
I have given the child Charlie's name. I will wait for a proper christening until after Charlie comes home.
I do hope that once the conflict is over and it is again safe to travel, you will come and spend sometime at our home and meet our growing family.
Please Mrs. Armstrong, be very careful about this young woman. I would certainly hate for her to cause you trouble.
Regards,
Rebecca Redmond
--*--
Friday, March 10, 1865
Charlie dismounted from Jack and handed Jocko the reins, his gauntlets and his canteen. "God, Jocko. I think I am getting too old for this."
"Well, Gen’l C, I have something to cheer you a bit and put that youthful bounce back into your step. A special courier came with another letter from Miss Rebecca."
"I feel a bit guilty. With these last days of hard riding, I have not had time to finish the letter I started before we left Crozet."
"Well, sir, we are to settle here for a couple of days before we go on toward Goochland Courthouse, and the infantry has to catch up. I suspect you will have plenty of time now."
"Good. I can use the break from being all day in the saddle. Are we setting up the officers’ mess tent?"
"Yes, sir. Jamison’s boys are already working on it."
"Good –– send word that I will expect the officers to dine together."
"Oh, and Major M’Cabe’s boys found a herd of goats wandering untended."
"Goats? And what did the boys from Company E do?"
"I understand they tried to find the owners, but from what the locals say, the goats have been wandering for a while. Seems their owners fell to the grippe last winter. So Jamison’s boys dressed them out and roasted them."
"Ah, good. Fresh meat will do wonders for morale –– especially after all the rain and mud we have had to endure."
Charlie was fingering the rather thick letter that Jocko had brought him, obviously wanting to read it in the privacy of his own tent, but too courteous to send Jocko away. Jocko, knowing his boss very well, excused himself.
Charlie settled into his camp chair and lovingly opened his letter. He read the first line and nearly dropped the letter. He read it again, and just sat there with his jaw hanging open. "A son? I have a son?" It came out of him as a reverent whisper. Then it dawned on him that if he had a son it probably meant that Constance had passed on. With trembling hands, he carefully read the whole letter through. Finally it sank in. He had a son, and not at the terrible price of Constance’s life.
"Jocko!" Charlie waited about fifteen seconds. Then he bellowed. "Jocko!"
Jocko came running. Charlie never yelled like that. As the batman burst through the tent flap, Charlie grabbed him by the shoulders. "I have a son. A son! Break out a keg of my best brandy; we will toast Charlie the Second at dinner tonight!"
Charlie announced his good news to his officers amid great good cheer and mirth. The men all knew that Charlie was rapidly acquiring a family through adoption, but, except for Jocko and Elizabeth, all present believed that Charlie was celebrating the birth of an illegitimate child Rebecca was generous enough to adopt as her own.
Late that night, he continued his letter to Rebecca.
Friday, March 10, 1865
Darling wife, I continue my letter begun several days ago still reeling from your news. A son. My namesake. I do hope he is a healthy, hale little fellow.
We celebrated this evening. For the first time in several days, we are settling down in a real camp, where we will stay for a while. So we actually have tents, other than our sleep tents that are quickly raised, and time for a decent meal. M’Cabe’s men found some goats, which Jamison roasted, so we had fresh meat and good brandy to toast my son.
I must confess, I have absolutely no memory of Miss Hobart. I suppose I met her at Lizzie’s, but then she had many attractive young women in her employ over the time I have known her. I think you handled the situation artfully, dear heart.
I am also sure you are handling the farm well. Tarent is a good man, and I am glad you and he have formed an effective alliance. I know, from all of the talks we have had, you know more about the running of an effective stud farm than I do. I have full faith in your ability to do what needs to be done, and in Tarent to ensure it is done correctly.
By the by, dear, is Shannon showing signs of being in foal? I would love to see what she and Jack produce. I believe any foal of theirs will either be ugly and mean tempered or absolutely elegant and sweet. Of course, it could be elegant and mean or ugly and sweet as honey.
We are headed east, and have lain over for a bit to allow the infantry to catch up. This gives me some time just to sit and relax. I picked up some very nice fine cotton yarn in the supply depot in Charlottesville, and have taken to knitting booties. Believe it or not, I learned how to knit from a grizzled old sergeant who swore that every soldier should know how so he could take care of his socks and keep his feet healthy. I have been knitting my own socks for years, and find baby booties are an easy adaptation. Perhaps you can surrender and stay with crocheting caps and blankets, dear.
I think I will turn in now, and send this to you in the morning pouch. I fear I have had a bit of my own medicine –– but it was a good brandy and a wonderful reason to celebrate.
All my love, my heart and soul to you.
Your Charlie
--*--
Wednesday, March 15, 1865
With eager fingers, Charlie tore open the seal on Rebecca’s next letter. They had been sitting in camp, doing what soldiers did best –– hurrying up and waiting. He was aching to be home, to be with Rebecca, to meet his new son. These letters were the closest thing he had.
Monday, March 13, 1865
Dearest Charlie,
Rest assured your son, is quite the healthy little fellow with lungs that would make your best drill sergeant proud. When little Charlie needs something he is not the least bit shy about letting us know.
Em is quite proud of her little brother and bestows him with kisses at every opportunity. She is also doing very well with Papa now. The pup follows her everywhere and even sleeps at the foot of her bed.