T. Novan - Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

"My dear lady, if I could have a plate of pileau again, I would be in heaven. I may have lived with Yankees for the past 20 years, but I still love my southern foods. Shall I pick you up after lunch?"

"Yes Colonel Redmond, I would be pleased if you did. Thank you."

"Oh, we found a little basket cart in the stables. If the boys have it fixed this morning, I will hitch Shannon to it and we will go in style, if you like."

"I must warn you, we will be the talk of the town. You wait until you meet some of those old hens."

"Oh, my dear, I relish the thought." A rakish grin illuminated Charlie's normally gentle visage. If he had a moustache, he would have been twirling the ends.

She laughed softly as she stood and put on her robe. "Is that a bit of a wicked side I see coming out, Colonel Redmond?"

Charlie's southern accent was normally rather understated, but the next words out of his mouth made it unmistakable that he was from that French-flavored city in South Carolina. "Why, ma chere Madame Rebecca, what ever gave you the idea that I would be anything other than a perfect gentleman?"

She laughed harder, the memories of her bad dreams fading away like the early morning mist. "Yes, sir, I do believe you have just a little evil streak and I must say I find it utterly charming."

"Well, my dear, if you find it charming, then perhaps I can find the means to sway the local hens as well - no?"

"Oh, Colonel, I am absolutely sure you will find the older hens as tough as leather, but a few of the younger ladies will have their heads turned I am sure."

"Miss Rebecca, I am, as ever, a perfect gentleman. I would not consider taking advantage of a young, innocent woman. Now a mature, confident lady of means and birth - that certainly does get my attention."

She smiled again; she could not help it. The normally reserved Charlie was actually flirting with her. Now it was up to her to do what any woman of proper southern breeding would do, flirt back; then leave. "I will keep that in mind, Colonel Redmond." She licked her lips just slightly. "Now if you will excuse me." And with that, she left the bedroom.

Charlie grinned to himself as he quickly donned his uniform to start the day. His gentle teasing and flirting had broken the pall of grief and pain that surrounded Miss Rebecca all night. Whistling to himself, he clattered down the stairs and off to the camp, anticipating an absolutely delightful afternoon in her company. And the devil take the biddies and their opinions.

--*--

The two went their separate ways that morning, each in a far more positive mood than the tasks before them would seem to indicate was reasonable.

Charlie worked with Polk and his company commanders to finish the detailed plans for the winter camp. They agreed to spread the companies across the property, so that each would be able to deal with their own horses, maintain their own cook tents and have at least some space. This would also put less demands on the lands and allow them to keep their horses safe from the inevitable attempts to "borrow" one or two. They decided that they would half-timber the tents, providing reinforcement against snow or heavy rain, as well as providing additional insulation for the heavy canvas. Each troop would also build a small berm around the outside of the tent, burying the edge of the canvas in the ground to prevent the wind from getting up under it, or even worse, under the ground cloth that served as the floor of the tent. It would also serve to divert any flowing water away from the interior of the tents. He issued orders for the men to work as quickly as possible. So far, the weather had been kind, but it was November, and the mild temperature and clear skies could not go on forever. Anyway, Charlie figured that the lumber would come in handy for Rebecca when the troops departed in the spring.

Troopers with specific skills from each company were identified to help prepare the stables as an infirmary for injured horses, the large stone barn as a hospital and the overseer’s house as Charlie’s headquarters. Samuelson was in charge of preparing the hospital, and was given one of the regiment’s precious Franklin stoves to keep the space warm for the sick and injured. His first concern was to get the barn clean and to take steps to create a special area that could be kept immaculate to use for the surgery. Dr. Walker was particular, and he did not want to disappoint her.

In the midst of this flurry of activity, Charlie found time to have a word with Tarant and MacFarlane about the little basket trap he had seen the day before, ensuring it would be ready for the afternoon trip. He also checked with Sergeant Jamison, who had already been into town for fresh, specialty supplies and to retain the services of a few local hands to help with the transportation of goods from the railhead to the camp. What Jamison had to say about the conditions in the colored town concerned Charlie. It seemed that emancipation without work for these people was not a particularly beneficial situation. Charlie made a note to warn the company commanders to be on the look out for petty thievery –– and to be stern but not harsh about it. On the other hand, it did suggest that he would have his pick of potential servants for the main house.

Rebecca also had her hands full that morning. Jocko had seen to it that she had a small number of troopers, led by Corporal Duncan, to continue the clean up and refurbishing of the main house. There were rooms that could shelter the extremely ill and provide a safe, quiet residence for Dr. Walker and her staff. The winter kitchen had a full stillroom attached to it, where medicines could be prepared as well. All of this had to be put in order. She sent the troopers up to the attic to discover anything that might be useful in terms of old furniture, bedding and other items. The troopers even set up a small carpentry shop to allow them to either repair what was usable or to rough together additional beds, chairs and tables to fill the voids.

Once she had gotten the boys to work, she spent a good bit of time going through her kitchen and basic supplies. Care was taken to create a list of all of the things she absolutely needed from town, and a few things that she did not really need, but had been missing. Last, but not least, she carefully looked over her supply of spices and vegetables, making sure she had everything she needed to make a beautiful chicken pileau. It seemed such a simple dish, but it was much more complex than most people thought. Rice with chicken, onions, green peppers, celery, saffron, tomato sauce, chicken broth and sweet chilies gently steamed together was a classic Charleston dish that she wanted to treat him with. It was her way of repaying him in part for all of the truly lovely things he had done for her.

As the morning drew to a close, she fixed herself a small bite of lunch and then went to decide on what to wear. Her first foray into town after her year of mourning had to present the right image. She must not be too forward, still very appropriate, but no longer a woman in the black weeds of deep grief. To be honest, getting rid of what she knew in her heart was a hypocritical adherence to social norms was a blessing. And black had never been her best color.

She chose a lovely blue-gray walking dress, modest in cut, quiet in color, acknowledging that the ‘‘acceptable’ colors for the second year were all soft, cool shades of blue, gray and lavender. But it was also the walking dress that most flattered her own coloring, the blue bringing out the gold in her hair, the green in her eyes and the soft pinks of her skin and lips. She wanted to look good for Charlie and to put the biddies that she knew would be ripe for any tidbit of gossip in their proper place.