Words Heard in Silence (52 page)

"Do they really? Why do you think we are at war?"

"Because you Yankees are evil and tried to take our Southern way of life away from us. You tried to free all the nigger slaves and make us work in factories like you make your shanty Irish slaves work in New England."

"If that is true, then how did the war start?"

The boy looked unsure. "Uh, Yankees shot at innocent Southerners down in Charleston, South Carolina?"

"What if I told you that was not why we are at war and that the first shots of the war were fired by Southerners?"

"Jeremiah, men go to war for many reasons. But the fact that we have gone to war does not make one side right and the other wrong, nor does it mean that one side are all devils and the other all angels. It just means that we disagree and have failed to find a peaceful way to resolve our differences."

Charlie stopped for a moment. The confusion on Jeremiah’s face was stumping Charlie. An inspiration came to him.

"Tell me, Jeremiah, have you ever gotten into a fight with someone at school?"

Looking a little abashed as well as startled by the sudden change of topic, Jeremiah responded, "Yes, sir. And I caught the very devil for it, too. The teacher gave me what for, and when I got home, my Da gave me a good licking and sent me to my room without supper. He said I was raised to be a gentleman and a Christian and that I should find a way to settle my differences without fighting like a common street urchin."

"Well, wars are what happen when large groups of grown men do exactly what you did in that school yard. The biggest difference is that when grown men fight, like the Union and the Confederacy troops are doing now, instead of a few bloody noses, hundreds of men are wounded and killed. War is a terrible thing, a time when we fail at being gentleman and good Christians. A time when we cannot find a way to resolve our differences by talking and resort to fighting like common street urchins."

"But you are a soldier. Your job is to fight."

"That is certainly true. And if you ask the career soldiers –– the ones who have devoted their lives to the army, as I have –– you will find that the biggest proponents of finding peaceful settlements to our differences are the very men who are willing to fight if necessary. I think I am a soldier because I know if a fight starts, I can help end it more quickly. That way, I can help keep the damage to a minimum."

"That is not what I heard my father saying. He said we should whip you all back to the North." The boy did not add the rest of his father’s statement ‘‘like dogs to their kennels.’ Somehow, he felt that would be disrespectful of this imposing soldier who said the strangest and most puzzling things.

"Perhaps, Jeremiah, your father was behaving the same way you did when you got in the fight at school."

Charlie let the boy sit and consider that idea for a while. After a long pause, Charlie steeled himself to say what needed to be said. "Jeremiah, I want you to hear this from me, and not overhear it out in the camp. Our troops fought at Winchester with General Sheridan’s troops, against General Early. I do not know, and to be honest, no one will ever know, if your father was killed by one of my soldiers. But I do know that the men who fought –– on both sides –– fought bravely and honorably. Your father was one of the unlucky ones, sacrificed to our inability to find a peaceful resolution to a very difficult problem. I am very sorry."

The boy sat in stunned silence. No tears came to his eyes. Somehow, this was not what he had thought war was about. War was supposed to be noble and glorious, not about grown men who could find no better way to solve their differences than by shooting and killing one another. But as he though about it, he could see how his father sounded just like the boys at school, blustering and threatening and cocky. Before he could say anything or gather himself to react with anything other than a sort of numb confusion, the parlor door opened and the ladies filed in, all still chatting eagerly about the wedding plans. Charlie and Jeremiah looked at each other, and by silent, mutual consent, returned to their quiet games of checkers.

C
harlie was up early and cheerfully about his business, preparing the troops for the gymkhana, cheering the boys on, and doing a bit of practice himself, since he was one of the finest horsemen in the regiment.

Rebecca attended to her usual morning responsibilities, meeting with Sarah, Beulah, and Reg to organize the servants’ activities, and with Elizabeth, to coordinate care of the two refugees who had rather severe colds, exacerbated by malnutrition. Elizabeth was also concerned with Constance’s condition. Her energy was declining, and she was requiring more rest just to get through the day. This pregnancy was straining her already depleted resources, and both Elizabeth and Rebecca were deeply concerned. Finally, there was the issue of Major Montgomery, who vacillated between being arrogantly abusive and morbidly suicidal.

This morning it was Rebecca’s turn to spend time with the wounded Major. As she approached his door, her sewing basket in hand to pass the time, the guard warned her that the Major was in a particularly unpleasant mood.

Rebecca entered the room and settled herself in the rocking chair beside the window. "Good morning, Major. I trust you slept well."

Montgomery rolled over and faced the wall.

"I am glad to see you moving around a little. I am sure that lying in bed all day must be uncomfortable."

That foray into polite conversation received a non-committal grunt as Montgomery jerked at the covers to try to get more comfortable.

Rebecca took some soft blue material out of her sewing basket. She had cut it into a shirt for Charlie and was methodically sewing fine overstitched seams to make sure it was strong as well as warm. "Perhaps one of the orderlies would have time to help you with a bath later today. That might make you more comfortable."

"Madam," he sneered, "The only thing that would make me comfortable would be to be out of your house and out of this godforsaken nest of rebellious vipers."

"Sir, given that your mistreatment of your horse was the cause of your injuries, you should be grateful that this ‘‘nest of rebellious vipers’ has been able to offer you another chance at life."

"Madam, I did not ask for another chance at life. It was thrust upon me, no doubt so that Charles Redmond could torment me with yet another piece of evidence of my ‘‘unjustified animosity’ toward Southerners."

"Well, sir, it is true that President Lincoln and General Grant have ordered the Colonel to begin the process of reconstruction in this area. I believe that the Colonel is simply following orders in his behavior towards the residents of Culpeper."

"Oh, so you are suggesting that General Grant ordered the Colonel to take you to bed, or are you just part of the benefits that will be available to Northern officers when the war is over?"

Rebecca gritted her teeth. Charlie had asked her to be civil no matter what this man said and civil she would be. Just barely. For as long as she could stand being in the same room with the vile pig. "Sir, my personal relationship with the Colonel is just that. Mine. I rather suspect that my fiancéé would not particularly appreciate your comments, though." She paused for a moment. "As a matter of fact, there is an issue of a criminal charge of rape being investigated."

"Oh, yes. Your fiancéé, the gallant Colonel Redmond. I think you should know that he has done this before."

"Really? And whom might the unlucky woman have been, sir?"

"Why, I must confess, I have seen him become involved with at least a half a dozen women. And each time, he has conveniently been called back to service just before the final commitment is made. That man has avoided more altars than battles. I even suspect that he has more than one byblow populating the countryside. But you will not find the good Colonel paying for his bastards’ upbringing. As I understand it, what he does when things get too close for comfort is to run to his whore in Washington."

Rebecca was having a hard time listening to this man’s vitriolic lies. Part of her wanted to slap him silly, and perhaps do permanent damage to his already injured brain. The other part wanted to laugh in his face, knowing intellectually that part of what he was ascribing to Charlie was physically impossible. The rest, based on what both Charlie and Elizabeth had told her, was patently untrue. But how to break through this sea of rancor was beyond her.

"That, sir, from a man who I believe enjoys watching women being raped, and then taunts them with the results of your actions, is beneath contempt."

"You cannot prove anything, you greedy little whore. It is my word as an officer and a gentleman against the word of that little lying, Bible quoting bitch. I am quite sure that no board of inquiry would ever accept her testimony. As for you, you pitiful little slut, play your games with the Colonel. Let him take care of you, draw him in, and when you know what his orders are, I am sure you will pass them on to your rebel cohorts. As for Redmond, he is not only a Southern sympathizer, he is a damn fool who has no more right to lead this regiment than I have to be King of England."

Rebecca was appalled at the ocean of hatred roiling out of this man’s mouth. He strained to pull himself up in the bed, and glared at her. "Yes, indeed, you little slut. I wanted you the minute I saw you. I wanted to throw you down in the hall and tear your skirt off. I wanted to show you just what a good Pennsylvania man could do to a woman. I could not decide if I was willing to look at your face as I took you and taught you what a real man was like or if I wanted to turn your face to the floor so I did not have to watch you whimper and whine. You would have been just like your little friend, Constance. You would have whined and cried and screamed. But secretly, you would have loved it, the feel of a real man inside you, controlling you. Just like she did. She begged for it, you know. By the time the third man was through with her, she was so sloppy and open that I had to take her in the ass just to feel something. You would like that, too, would you not, you little slut?"

The blue shirt lay ignored in her lap, as she fought the urge to expel her breakfast on this vicious, twisted excuse for a man. All of the pain and horror of her life with Gaines came back to her, as she recognized the same qualities in Montgomery as she had seen night after night with her husband. Slowly, she rose from her chair, the shirt falling unnoticed to the floor. Deliberately, she advanced to face him directly, staying just barely out of arm’s reach, emboldened by her own new found knowledge and by Montgomery’s incapacity.

"Major Montgomery. I believe I have just heard you confess to being a party to the rape of Constance Adams."

"I believe you did. And I dare you to attempt to prove any of it, slut. My word against yours. My confession, as you call it, is pure hearsay that no court in the country would accept."

"You pitiful excuse for a man. You know nothing but rape and power. You slime. You are no better than my husband, that raping, whoring drunken bastard. If it had been up to me, sir, I would have let you lie there and die in your own blood and gore. Were it not for Colonel Redmond getting Dr. Walker down here in time to operate on you, you would now be dead and burning in hell where you belong."

Neither of the two occupants of the room had noticed when the door opened a few minutes earlier, nor had they been aware of both Charlie and the trooper assigned to guard Montgomery’s door standing there listening to this damning exchange.

Charlie stepped into the room as Rebecca delivered her condemnation. In a low voice, he simply said, "Enough. Both of you." He dropped his hands onto Rebecca’s shoulders, and could feel her shaking with rage. "Major Harrison Montgomery, you are under arrest for the malicious rape of Constance Adams, self confessed, and with the confession witnessed by myself and Trooper Abel Franklin, as well as Mrs. Rebecca Gaines. Trooper Franklin, I will send someone to relieve you immediately. I request that you immediately provide your testimony as to what you have heard today to Colonel Polk so that it can be fully documented. I remind you, Major Montgomery, that a verbal confession, witnessed by two standing members of the regiment, is considered by the Military Code as being as valid as a written confession. There is only one penalty for rape. We will summons a Military Court of Inquiry as soon as I can get General Sheridan here to officiate. Would you like me to send for a minister to tend to your soul?"

"Well, Redmond. You have what you wanted. A legal way to get rid of me –– the only man in the whole regiment who would willingly stand up to your Southern sympathizing and your treasonous actions against the Union. You should have just let me die –– and no one would have been any wiser."

"I suggest that you save your comments for your counsel and for the court, Montgomery." He turned to Rebecca, who was white faced and trembling. "Gather your belongings, Mrs. Gaines. I will escort you to your quarters, and send someone to take your testimony."

C
harlie gently escorted Rebecca to her sitting room and settled her into her favorite chair before the fireplace. "My dear, I must attend to a couple of things." He rang briskly for Reg and as he waited for the man to appear, quickly penned two notes. One was for Polk; the other was to Major Swallow. The two notes were essentially the same, outlining the results of the afternoon’s confession.

Reg slipped into the room. "You rang, sir?"

"Yes. Deliver these two notes as quickly as possible. Run. And if you see a trooper –– any trooper –– on your way, send him to me immediately."

Reg tugged his forelock and scurried from the room.