Yankee Belles in Dixie

by Gilbert L. Morris

  When he got back to the camp, he found breakfast ready and sat down and ate the eggs and fried ham that Leah had prepared.

  “Where did you get milk?” he said. “I don’t see any cows around here.”

  “A woman came through selling it,” Leah said. “Her husband was killed in one of the battles, so she makes her living selling milk to the soldiers now. I felt so sorry for her.” She drank some milk herself. “It’s hard to think how many widows there are, but maybe the war will be over soon.”

  After breakfast, they mounted the wagon and rode back into Washington.

  As they got down at the Old Capitol Prison, Jeff’s face was set.

  “Don’t worry, Jeff,” Leah said confidently. “Chaplain Patterson will come through.”

  They entered and went to Lieutenant Simpkins’s office where they found him sitting behind his desk. His face turned red. “It’s you again!”

  “Why, yes,” Mr. Carter said pleasantly. “I understand that provisions have been made for us to visit Lieutenant Nelson Majors.”

  Simpkins jerked his drawer open, yanked out a paper, and stared at it. His mouth drew tight, and he nodded curtly. “Yes, this came this morning. You can go see your friend.”

  Jeff could see that the lieutenant was furious, but Mr. Carter said gently, “We appreciate your help, Lieutenant. We will try to be as little trouble as possible. Perhaps we can help with some of the things the men need, since that’s what we do, you know.”

  “These are rebels,” Simpkins snapped. “They deserve what they are getting! Corporal!” he called out. “Take these people to see Lieutenant Majors.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The guard led them down through a series of hallways. There was a run-down air about the place, and guards roamed the passages, holding muskets loosely.

  “Nobody’s ever escaped from Old Capitol,” the guard said. “No, sir! And never will either. We’ve got orders to shoot if they even get close to a door or window.”

  Leah and Jeff glanced at each other, and Leah shook her head when Jeff was about to speak.

  “Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Come on.”

  They came to a door with a padlock. The guard unlocked it and swung the door back. “Just holler through the grill when you want to leave,” he said rather cheerfully. “Somebody’ll let you out.” He stepped aside, and the three entered.

  Jeff looked around. The room was small, approximately fifteen feet square, and seemed crowded. One window was open, bars crossing it, and it admitted enough light so that he could see the faces of the men. At first, he didn’t see his father, and his heart sank. But then a voice came.

  “Jeff!”

  He turned quickly and saw a cot over in one corner, illuminated by the sunlight. His father was struggling to sit up. “Pa!” He helped his father into a sitting position. He was shocked at his father’s face, for Lieutenant Majors had lost much weight. His eyes seemed sunken in his head, and his skin was sallow, unlike his usual ruddy tan.

  “Pa!” he repeated. He put his arms around him and found, for once, that he was stronger than his father.

  “Son!” the lieutenant said, holding to him hard for a moment. Then he pulled away, looked around at the other prisoners and said, almost in a whisper, “What are you doing here?”

  Mr. Carter may have been afraid that Jeff might reveal more than he should. He came up and said, “Well, don’t I get a ‘hello,’ Nelson?” He stepped into the light so that his face was revealed, and when the lieutenant called his name, he reached out and took his friend’s hand.

  “Me and Leah here and Jeff, we’re doing sutler work now, you know. Heard you were in prison, so we thought we would come by for a visit.” He glanced at Jeff and shook his head.

  Nelson Majors seemed to get the message too. “Why, I’m glad to see you all,” he said. “You fellows, let these visitors have some of those chairs. You can sit down anytime.”

  There was a murmur of assent, and some of the men at once brought chairs over. “Let me introduce you to some of these fellows,” the lieutenant said. He called off their names, and when they had all been introduced, said, “Now, you tell me the news of home.”

  “We will,” Leah said, “but first, we brought you something good.” She had brought a large basketful of fresh bread and cakes and meat that she had prepared the night before, knowing they were coming. “I didn’t know if they would let us bring this in or not, but they just looked through it and said there weren’t any guns or knives here.”

  Jeff’s father looked into the basket and shook his head in wonderment. “Manna from heaven! Here, you fellows—we’re going to have a meal fit for a king. Then he added, looking at Leah with a smile, “From a princess.”

  Jeff never forgot the next few moments. The men were as starved as hungry wolves. They tried not to gobble the food, but he saw how hard it was for them.

  Finally, after receiving their thanks over and over again, Leah said, “Jeff, you talk to the lieutenant. We’ve brought some Bibles and tracts for you all,” she said to the other prisoners.

  Jeff saw what she was doing. In the crowded room she was going to draw them off, talk to them, ask their names, keep their attention away from Jeff and his father.

  “Guess I better lie down, Son. Can’t sit up too long.” Lieutenant Majors stretched out painfully, then looked around and whispered, “Son, you’ve got to get out of here.”

  Jeff leaned forward, his face a few inches from his father’s, and also whispered, “I had to come, Pa. I knew you were sick, and I had to come and see if I could help.”

  “That’s like you, Son, but if they found out I was your father, you’d be suspected at once.”

  “Suspected of what?”

  “Of being a spy.” Nelson Majors shrugged his thin shoulders. “They think everybody’s a spy these days. There are a lot of spies in Washington. And I guess there’s some Union spies in Richmond.” He looked up. “Well, now that you’re here, tell me everything. How have you been? How’s Tom? How’s Esther?”

  Jeff sat there for thirty minutes telling his father about what he had been doing. His heart was heavy when he saw the dullness of his father’s eyes and remembered how bright-eyed and strong and cheerful he’d always been. Being a prisoner is killing him, he thought. He’s got to get out of this place.

  Lieutenant Majors listened quietly. Then he said, “Son, you’ve done all you can. Now I want you to leave. You’ve got to get back to Virginia. Get back with Tom—you two take care of each other as best you can.”

  “But what about you?”

  “God will take care of me. He sent you by, didn’t he? And Dan and Leah? You’ve got to take care of yourself.”

  “You think you’ll ever get exchanged, Pa?”

  “Well, that’s not going too well, but there’s always hope.” He reached up a thin hand and took Jeff’s. “I want you to know I’m proud of you, Jeff. You’re a man already, despite your years.”

  Jeff flushed and shook his head. “Aw, I haven’t done anything. There must be some way to escape from this place.”

  “No! Don’t even think of that!” his father exclaimed. “I want you to promise me you won’t try anything foolish like trying to get me out of here. You promise that, Jeff?”

  Jeff nodded, saying, “Yes, sure, I promise, Pa—but you’ve got to get out of here somehow.”

  “We’ll talk about it. You’ll be here for a while, won’t you? With the Carters?”

  “Yes, they say the army’s building up. General McClellan wants a hundred thousand men—that’s what everybody says. So we’ll stay until they leave.”

  “Good. It means a lot to have you here, Son.”

  The three stayed for some time, and when they left Jeff saw Lieutenant Simpkins glaring as they passed his doorway. As they got into the wagon, Jeff said, “Lieutenant Simpkins doesn’t trust us. He thinks everybody’s a spy.”

  “You’ll have to be very careful,” Mr. Carter warned. “Do
n’t say anything to give yourself away. I’d hate to see you taken and put in prison.”

  They sat quietly on the wagon seat as they rode away, each filled with his own thoughts. After a while Leah said, “We’ll come back every day, Jeff. We’ll bring medicine, and we’ll get Chaplain Patterson to help, and your father will get better—you’ll see!”

  5

  Letter from Richmond

  Jeff went every day to visit his father. Usually Leah and Mr. Carter went with him, but sometimes he went alone. He was glad to see that the food seemed to help, and Mr. Carter also took along some of his medicine to share with the lieutenant.

  Jeff was thinking about this one day during breakfast when Leah said, “We’re going to church this morning.”

  “Going to church? Is the chaplain having another meeting for the men?”

  “Oh, no. This is a big church downtown. We’ve heard about the preacher there, and Pa wants to go hear him.”

  “I don’t think I want to go hear any more sermons,” Jeff muttered.

  But in the end Leah had her way. She disappeared into her tent and came out wearing a pink dress that he’d always thought was pretty, with a bonnet to match and a pair of light brown kid boots. “Now, you go get yourself ready,” she said, “and be sure you comb your hair. It looks like a rat’s nest!”

  Jeff did as he was told, and later, when the three of them filed into the big church in downtown Washington, he was impressed with the ornate building. As they took a seat halfway down, he whispered to Leah, “This sure doesn’t look like our little church back home. I’ll bet the preaching isn’t as good either.”

  Leah started to answer. Then she glanced backward and caught her breath. “Look!” she whispered.

  Jeff turned to look, and he, too, blinked in surprise. “Is that President Lincoln?”

  “Yes and that’s his wife and their son with him.”

  Jeff had seen pictures of the president drawn by artists for the Southern newspapers. They always portrayed him as a hideous creature. They called him “The Gorilla.” Jeff fixed his eyes on Lincoln’s face and thought, Why, he’s not ugly at all. Homely, maybe but not like a gorilla.

  As the president approached, he studied him. Abraham Lincoln did have a homely face. He had deep-set eyes and sunken cheeks, a pouting lower lip, and a wart. But he’s not ugly, and he doesn’t look like a murderer, which they all call him, Jeff thought.

  He watched the president lead his wife and son to a seat across from him and slightly in front. When they sat down, he whispered to Leah, “He doesn’t look like I thought he would.”

  All during the sermon Jeff kept glancing at the president. He could see his profile and noted that the president was listening carefully. Once he turned to look around, and he met Jeff’s eyes. Jeff flushed, but President Lincoln just smiled and nodded slightly, then turned back toward the platform.

  On their way home, Jeff said, “You know, Lincoln’s not like I thought he would be.”

  “How’s that, Jeff?” Mr. Carter asked.

  “Well, you know in the Southern newspapers they make him out to be some kind of a … a monster, a murderer. They say he started the war.”

  “That’s not right,” Mr. Carter said gently. “This war was the last thing Abraham Lincoln wanted. All he wants now is to keep the Union together.”

  “He wants to set all the slaves free,” Jeff corrected.

  “Jeff, he said once in a speech that if he could save the Union by freeing some of the slaves and not freeing others, he’d do it. If he could save it by freeing all the slaves, he’d do that. But if he could save it by freeing none of the slaves, he’d do that. But he means to save this Union of ours.”

  Jeff thought about President Lincoln a great deal for the next few days. Seeing him had shaken his ideas about the war itself. As long as he’d thought of Lincoln as an evil man who wanted to wreck the South out of pure meanness, it was easy to think about fighting. But Lincoln’s face was kind. Just one look and Jeff had known that he was not evil. So he kept quiet, just once in a while mentioning the president to Leah.

  A few days after the service, Dan Carter came to Jeff with an envelope. “Letter for you, Jeff. It came addressed to me. It went to our home in Kentucky first, and my wife mailed it on.”

  Jeff took the piece of paper, opened it, and recognized the handwriting at once. “Why, it’s from Tom.” He scanned the brief page and looked up with a worried expression. “Tom says I’ve got to come back. If I don’t, I’ll be posted as a deserter.”

  “Oh, Jeff! Then you’ll have to go,” Leah said.

  “Yes, I’m afraid you will, my boy. You wouldn’t want to be a deserter.”

  Jeff glanced quickly at the older man and saw that he was being honest. He thought again, Yankees can’t be all that they told us they were. But I guess people have told them the same kind of stuff about us. Aloud he said, “I’ll have to go tell Pa.”

  “Go by yourself this time. Take the horse,” Mr. Carter said. “I’ll find out about the trains and see about tickets.”

  Jeff left at once. He tied the horse outside the Old Capitol Prison, was admitted, and once again passed under the hard eyes of Lieutenant Simpkins. “Well, at least I won’t have to see him anymore,” he muttered to himself.

  In the prison cell he found his father shaving.

  “Sit down, Jeff, while I scrape these whiskers off.” Lieutenant Majors drew the blade carefully down his cheek, wiped the lather onto a towel, and then took another pass at his face. “What’s been going on?”

  Jeff hesitated, then he told his father about President Lincoln and how he felt about him and how it had disturbed him.

  Nelson Majors finished the shave, listening carefully. Then he put the razor away. “Well, Yankees are just people like we are. We can’t hate them, Jeff. We believe differently, but we’re one people.”

  “I guess I’ll have to change the way I think a little bit, Pa.” He knew he had to tell his father something else. “I got a letter from Tom. He said I’d have to go back or be posted as a deserter.”

  At once Nelson Majors said, “I’ve been half expecting that, and you’ll have to go, of course.”

  “Yes, that’s what Mr. Carter says, but I hate to leave you, Pa.”

  They talked for a long while, knowing it would be the last time. When Jeff got up to go, he cried out, “Pa, it’s awful! I just can’t go and leave you alone like this!”

  “Son,” the lieutenant said, putting his arm around Jeff’s shoulder, “you’re almost a man now, and one of the things you learn as a man is that you can’t always control circumstances. Bad things do happen. Nothing you can do about it.” He looked at Jeff carefully, his handsome face very sober. “But a man can always control how he acts in the circumstances. So that’s what we’ll have to do. For now, it’s your job to go back to be a soldier. It’s my job to stay here until the Lord sees fit to release me. We’ll just have to do our job, even though it’s hard. All right?”

  “Sure, Pa. It’s just not easy.”

  “Hard things are what make a man better. Not easy things. It’s hard for me too, but you can write to me, and we’ll both believe the Lord to bring us through it all.”

  Jeff did not stay longer. He still could not bear the thought of leaving his father.

  When he got back to camp, Dan Carter must have seen the boy was upset, but he merely said, “The train leaves at three o’clock. We’ll take you—me and Leah.”

  “Yes, sir. And I want to thank you for all you’ve done for my father and for me. I don’t know how we would have made it without the Carters.”

  “We’re neighbors, aren’t we? You’d do the same for us.”

  * * *

  That afternoon when it was time to go, Jeff was out by the creek when Leah found him. She knew it was the one place he could find quiet, and they’d walked along this stream many times, watching the minnows and frogs.

  He was standing beside the bank, looking down into the water,
as she came up beside him. “Almost time to go, Jeff.”

  Jeff looked at her, then put his boot in the stream and watched the water curl over his toe, making a miniature waterfall. “Just like the creek back home, isn’t it, Leah? Do you ever think of those times we fished there?”

  “Yes, I think about that a lot.”

  “I wish we could go back! I wish we could go back to what we were. Remember? I’d like to be hunting birds’ nests, and running a trot line, and going coon hunting doing all the things we used to do. Those were the best days of my life.”

  Leah felt so sorry for him she wanted to cry. She felt sorry for herself too. She made herself say, as cheerfully as possible, “I guess it’s like this creek. The water passes us, it goes somewhere else, it can’t go back.”

  “My grandpa,” Jeff said, “always told me you couldn’t step in the same river twice. I guess that’s what that means, the river goes, and it’s gone. Just like us.”

  “Oh, not quite like that, Jeff. The river can’t remember, but we can. We can remember those days, and somehow that means they’re not altogether gone if we can remember them together.”

  Jeff turned and admired the sheen of her blonde hair as the sun struck it. “You’re growing up fast,” he said, “and getting to be a wise woman too. Sound like a philosopher.”

  “Oh, you know I’m not that, Jeff.”

  “Well, all I can say is that I’m getting tired of saying good-bye to folks. I wish we didn’t have to, but we do.”

  Leah took his hand, then hesitated. “Come on, let’s go to the train, and we’ll write each other often. Remember, say something real, real sweet to me, will you, Jeff?”

  Jeff stared at her, his cheeks flushing. “I can’t do that!”

  “Yes, you can. It’ll be in code, so nobody will know it.”

  “I don’t know how to write in code!”

  “It’s easy,” Leah said, her eyes glowing. “I read about it in a novel. What we’ll do is this, we’ll write with lots of space between the lines. Then we’ll write with a special ink in the spaces. Then when we put the letters in the oven or over a fire, they’ll turn brown!”