Yankee Belles in Dixie

by Gilbert L. Morris

  Spring was around the corner in Kentucky as Leah walked down the muddy road. The mid-April wind was mild today. Seeing her father over at the barn, she walked toward him.

  He was repairing a piece of harness and looked up as she came toward him. “Warm today isn’t it? I think spring’s here for sure, Pet.” He continued to punch holes in the harness as he spoke. “Be time for spring planting pretty soon. Always like to see this time of year come. Seems like God makes everything new.”

  Leah sat down on a box. Watching him work, she nodded. “I always look for the first crocus when they break through the earth,” she said. “I know for sure it’s spring then.”

  “Funny how you can tell weather by things like that. Like winter. You know winter’s not over until the pecans drop.” He grinned at her. “Pecan trees are a lot smarter than we are sometimes—about weather anyway.”

  They sat chatting, and then Leah asked, “Do you think we’ll be going back to Washington soon, Pa?”

  Daniel Carter hesitated, holding the strip of leather in one hand and the awl in the other. Finally he said, “I reckon so. From what I hear about it, President Lincoln has told General McClellan that he’s gonna have to fish or cut bait.”

  “The troops all love General McClellan, though,” Leah said.

  “Well, he’s about the best at getting an army ready to fight.”

  A bluebird lit on a peach tree branch a few feet away. The breeze ruffled his feathers, and he cocked his head to one side and uttered a short querulous syllable, then flew away.

  “Just when will we be going back do you think, Pa?”

  “I figure about next week.” He shook his head sadly. “We won the battle at Shiloh, but we lost many a good man doing it. I don’t think any of us on either side were ready for those kinds of losses. They say that Washington’s just one big hospital now—even private homes are taking in wounded soldiers.”

  “I’m glad Royal got back all right,” Leah said, “and the last letter from Jeff said there hadn’t been any fighting around Richmond.”

  “Well, there will be. That’s straight where McClellan will have to head. Like I started to say, President Lincoln has given him an ultimatum. He’ll have to fight or step down.”

  Leah had been reading the newspaper, and all the headlines said, “Forward to Richmond!”

  McClellan had trained his troops well, but he had no respect for the president, whom he called “The Original Gorilla.” It was common knowledge that he treated Mr. Lincoln with contempt.

  Once during the winter, Lincoln went to see the young general to discuss strategy. When he was told that McClellan was out, the president waited for him for about an hour. McClellan returned and walked by the president without so much as a word. Lincoln waited thirty minutes more, then asked that McClellan be told he was there. The answer came back that the general had gone to bed. Not once but several times, Lincoln tried to see the general and was ignored.

  However, the country was in a furor now. After the victory at Shiloh, people were demanding that Richmond be taken. Now everyone in the country—North and South—knew that the huge Army of the Potomac would soon be headed toward the Southern capital.

  When Mr. Carter finally finished the work on the harness, he put it aside and said, “Let’s go get some hot chocolate—if we can get your mother to make it for us.”

  “I can make it myself,” Leah announced, and they walked across the yard to the house.

  They found Sarah playing with little Esther, and she looked up as they came in. “Take care of the baby, will you, Leah? I need to go help Mother with the washing.”

  “Morena and I will do it, won’t we, Morena?”

  Morena was wearing a simple white dress, and her face lit up with a smile. She never spoke, but somehow Leah always felt she understood what was being said. She had been told that Morena would never really understand, but she always talked to her as an equal.

  “How’s baby Esther, Morena?” she asked, picking up the child. She propelled her across the floor as if Esther could walk, and the baby chortled with glee.

  Her mother suddenly appeared at the door. “Why don’t you give Esther her bath, Leah? Be sure you don’t get the water too hot.”

  “All right, Ma.”

  For the next half hour, Esther was the object of attention from the family. She loved her bath. She splashed the water and batted her eyes and tasted the soap carefully, then made a face that made them all laugh. She had beautiful rosy skin, and Sarah bent over her, saying, “Lots of women would give everything they own to have a complexion like that.”

  Esther Majors had been something to tie the Carter family together. They had taken the child because Nelson had no place else to keep her while he was in the army, and they had never regretted their decision.

  “Why, she’s just like our own,” Leah said to her mother. “I’ll hate it when Mr. Majors takes her back again.”

  “I don’t know when that will be,” her mother had said. “Not till this war’s over and he gets out of prison.”

  After Leah had given Esther her bath, powdered her, and put her into fresh clothing, she surrendered the baby to her mother, who gave her a bottle.

  Leah and Sarah prepared lunch, and when they all sat down to eat, Mr. Carter bowed his head and prayed, “Oh, God our Father, we thank Thee for this food and Thy every blessing. Give us health and strength. Protect our men in service. Bring this cruel war to an end. We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  At once Leah speared one of the fresh, fluffy biscuits that her mother had made and stuffed it into her mouth.

  “Leah! You eat like a starved wolf!” Mrs. Carter protested.

  “I don’t think she ever tastes anything.” Sarah smiled. “You have to taste with your tongue, and she’s so busy chewing and swallowing she doesn’t have time.”

  “I eat my vittles the way I like,” Leah sniffed. “These are good biscuits.”

  When they were almost through, Morena looked up suddenly. She had acute hearing, and a few minutes later Leah heard the sound of a horse approaching. She got up and went to a window.

  “It’s Horace with the mail,” she said. “I’ll go get it.” She ran outside and was back in a moment with a letter. “It’s for you, Pa. From Richmond. I don’t know the handwriting.”

  Dan Carter took the envelope, deliberately took his glasses from his pocket, and balanced them on his nose. He stared at the handwriting and said, “I don’t recognize it either.”

  “Well, open it and you’ll find out!” Leah’s mother said sharply.

  “Just what I was going to do.” Opening the envelope, Daniel pulled a sheet of paper out, unfolded it, and stared again.

  He was silent for so long that his wife said in exasperation, “Well, what is it? Who’s it from?”

  Daniel removed his glasses and handed the letter over to her. “Comes as quite a surprise. It’s from Uncle Silas.”

  “Uncle Silas?” She took the letter from him and scanned it quickly. “We haven’t heard from him for a long time,” she murmured.

  “Who’s Uncle Silas?” Leah asked curiously.

  Daniel Carter leaned his elbows on the table. “He’s my father’s older brother. When I was growing up we had a hard time. For a while it looked like we would almost starve to death. Those were hard days back then. I remember so well. We’d hit bottom and my father was sick and my mother had died a few years before that. We were all just about past hope, but one day a man came riding up. I didn’t know him, but my father said, ‘Why, that’s my brother Silas, from Richmond.’ “

  “You’d never seen him?” Sarah asked.

  “No, we’d heard about him, though, and he sure came like a present from heaven. He evidently had some money, because he paid our bills and got us out of debt and took care of us till Pa got well. Later on, he paid my way in school.” Daniel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I sure think a lot of Uncle Silas.”

  “It sounds like he’s pretty bad off,” Mrs.
Carter said, looking up from the letter. “I can hardly read his handwriting, it’s so thin and scratchy.”

  “Is he sick?” Leah asked.

  “That’s what the letter says—and he’s asked if I can come and help him till he gets well.”

  Silence ran around the table until Sarah said, “That would be hard to do—for you to go to Richmond, I mean. Wouldn’t it, Father?”

  “I don’t know. A man can do what he has to do.”

  “But then you couldn’t do your sutler work if you did that, could you?” Leah asked.

  “No, but I’ve got to do something to help Silas. He gave us hope back when there wasn’t any hope.”

  Mrs. Carter had been studying the letter. “Sounds like he’s got some mighty poor nursing. He doesn’t say much, but I take it he doesn’t have any relatives there to help him.”

  “No, he’s all alone now. He had a sister, but she died a few years ago. She was an invalid, and Uncle Silas took care of her instead of the other way around. He’s a mighty good man. A mighty good man.”

  The family sat there, thoughtful, and it was Sarah who said gently, “Well, Father, we’ll just have to pray about it. God is able, isn’t He?”

  “Yes, Daughter, He is, and that’s what we’ll do. We’ll pray about it.”

  For the next few days, Dan Carter had little to say. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and his family would notice him just staring off into space.

  “He’s worried about Uncle Silas,” Leah’s mother said to her one day. “We’ve prayed and prayed about it, and still I can’t see any way to help. We could send money to hire a nurse, but you never know what you’d get in a case like that.”

  Leah had said little, but she keenly felt her father’s grief over his uncle. She had never seen him quite so disturbed over anything except the war. She tried to talk to him, but he only said again and again, “I’ve got to help him somehow, Pet. I’ve got to!”

  One night after Leah had gone to bed, she was restless and could not sleep. She was thinking mostly of the problem with her father’s uncle in Richmond, and she began to pray. For a long time she lay there asking God to do something to make it possible for her father to help. She tried to think of some way he could go to Richmond, but the more she thought of that the less possible it seemed. She went to sleep praying, Oh, God, show us some way to help!

  The next morning when Leah woke at the sound of a rooster crowing, she discovered that an idea had taken possession of her. For a time she lay looking out at the tree that brushed its branches against the window pane.

  At last she got up, dressed, and went into the dining room. The family was already gathered there, and as Leah sat down she wondered how to say what she had to tell them.

  Her father asked the blessing, and Sarah picked up Esther and began shoveling strained peaches into her mouth, cooing at her.

  Finally Leah asked, “Pa, you think God tells people what to do?”

  “Why—of course, I do! The Bible’s full of things like that!” Dan Carter said in surprise. “You know your Bible better than that, Leah. Think about the Lord telling Joseph to take the Baby Jesus to Egypt.” He stared at her intently. “Why did you ask a thing like that?”

  “Because I think maybe the Lord told me something last night.”

  Everyone looked at her in surprise.

  Her father said, “Well, what is it, Pet?”

  “I’ve been praying and praying about some way to help your Uncle Silas—but I don’t see any way that you could go, Pa. In the first place, you need to go back and help the soldiers. That’s what God’s told you to do, isn’t it?”

  “It surely is, and that’s one thing I’ve been worried about. If it wasn’t for that, I’d go to Richmond like a shot.”

  “Well, I think God is telling me to go help nurse your uncle.”

  “Why, you can’t do that, Leah!” her mother said. “You’re just a child!”

  “I’m a good nurse, Ma. You know that. If all he needs is somebody to help him until he gets well, I can do it. You know I can.”

  And then the big argument started that went on all that day and into the next. At first, everyone said that Leah was totally mistaken, that God couldn’t have told her to do such a thing. She didn’t argue, but by the next day, when they met in the parlor to talk more about it, she had convinced them that she at least could care for Uncle Silas.

  “But should you do it?” her father asked. “That’s a long way for a young girl to go. And we don’t know anyone there.”

  “We know Tom and Jeff,” Leah said. “They’re still stationed in Richmond. They could help.”

  “But they’ll be gone with the army soon,” Sarah said. She had been very quiet during all of this, but there was a peculiar look in her eyes. Now she turned to her father and mother. “You know, I think that we’ll have to listen to what Leah is saying.”

  Mrs. Carter looked at her oldest daughter in surprise. “Are you in favor of her going?” She put great faith in Sarah’s judgment, for she was a young woman wise beyond her years. “Do you think it would be all right?”

  Sarah hesitated, then nodded. “I think it will be all right—as long as I go with her.”

  Leah cried, “Oh, Sarah, would you?” She ran to her sister, threw her arms around her, and began a little dance. “I knew it would be all right! If you go with me, it has to be!”

  Daniel Carter stood looking at his daughters with a worried expression on his face. Then finally he smiled. “Well, I guess I’m not a man to go against what God’s telling anybody to do. I’d feel better, though, with the two of you going together.”

  Leah came over and threw her arms around his neck. “It’ll be all right, Pa. You’ll see. God will be with us!”

  10

  Richmond

  As soon as the two young women got off the train at Richmond, Leah looked at her sister and laughed. “Your face is so dirty!” she exclaimed. “It’s all covered with soot.”

  Sarah touched her cheek with one finger and stared at the residue on the fingertip. “Well,” she said, shaking her head in disgust, “no dirtier than yours. Those coal burning engines really make a mess, don’t they?”

  As they turned to collect their baggage, a middle-aged man, with one arm missing and wearing parts of a Confederate uniform, came up to say, “Here, ladies, let me help you with your suitcases.”

  “Why, thank you.” Sarah smiled. “Those three large bags and those two small ones right there.” The man scurried around and, despite the missing arm, managed the baggage very well. He whistled for a carriage, using two fingers on his surviving hand. “You’re going down to the hotel, I guess?”

  “No, we’re going to 1120 Elm Street.”

  “That’s over on the east side of town. Well, here you go.” The wounded soldier cheerfully piled their bags in the back of the buggy that drew up and said to the driver, “Take these two ladies to 1120 Elm Street, Harry.”

  “Sure will,” the driver replied cheerfully. He was a tall, lean man with a shock of white hair, which was revealed when he pulled his hat off. He watched while the soldier helped the two young women in and as Sarah pulled a bill from her purse.

  “Will Union greenbacks do?” Sarah asked tentatively. “I don’t have any Confederate money yet.”

  The soldier with one arm grinned and winked at the driver. “Sure will, ma’am. I wish I had my pockets full of those Union greenbacks. You won’t have any trouble spending them here in Richmond.”

  Harry, the driver, said, “I’ll take care of them, Perry.” He spoke to the horses. “Hup, Babe! Hup, Mame!” and the carriage moved off, the driver threading through the busy traffic.

  “Perry lost that arm at Bull Run,” he said, “but I guess he’s better off than those that didn’t make it back at all.” He greeted several people as they made their way along the bustling street that seemed clogged with civilians and soldiers, horses, buggies, and wagons.

  “Pretty busy town, Richmond. You ladies
come from around here?”

  “From Kentucky,” Sarah said.

  That seemed safe enough, Leah thought. Kentucky was one of those border states controlled by neither the North nor the South.

  “Come for a visit?” the inquisitive driver asked, his sharp eyes turning to examine them.

  Leah saw no harm in saying, “Yes, our father’s uncle is quite ill. My sister and I have come to see if we could help nurse him. His name is Silas Carter. I don’t suppose you know him?”

  “Well, no, ma’am, I don’t—but with two pretty young nurses like you, I don’t reckon he’ll have any trouble getting well.” The driver grinned and slapped the backs of the horses with the line. “Get up there, you lazy hosses!”

  They passed through the main part of town and then through what seemed to be an industrial district. “What’s that big building right over there?” Leah asked. “The one with smoke coming out of the chimneys?”

  “Oh, that’s the Tredgar Iron Works, missy. Turns out most of the cannons for the army. Lots of folks work in there. Reckon you could get jobs if you wanted them. But I guess you will have all you can do with your nursing.”

  The trip did not take long, for the house was located just on the border of Richmond. The driver drew up before a tall, two-storied house, white with gingerbread carvings across the front and a wide porch.

  “Here we are, 1120 Elm Street. Let me help you ladies with your things,” the driver said. He hopped down, assisted them to the ground, then turned back for the baggage.

  They paid the driver, then walked up onto the front porch and knocked.

  Almost at once—so quickly that Leah suspected the woman who answered the door must have been looking out the window—the door swung open. A middle-aged woman with sharp features and a frown said, “Yes? What do you want?”

  Leah was a little taken aback by the abruptness of the greeting.

  “Why, I’m Sarah Carter, and this is my sister, Leah. We’ve come to see my father’s Uncle Silas.”

  “Well, he’s sick. He can’t see no one.”

  The door started to close.

  Sarah’s face flushed, and she stepped forward and put her foot in the doorway. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to see my uncle. Who are you? Are you the housekeeper?”