Yankee Belles in Dixie

by Gilbert L. Morris

  “I wish Jeff were here and that he didn’t have to go to that old war,” she muttered, scooping up another worm and tossing it into the bucket.

  Every time she thought of him or Tom or Royal, sadness came over her. The war was so terrible. She knew that all over the country mothers were hearing about their sons being killed, wives about their husbands, and children about their fathers.

  Depressed, she sat down, her back to the tool-house. She was thinking about home and Morena and how baby Esther was doing when suddenly voices caught her attention. She heard the gate close and then Sarah’s voice.

  “Come back here if you have to talk, Wesley—I don’t want to disturb Uncle Silas.”

  Leah started to get up and let them know she was there, but when she half rose she heard the captain’s voice, and something in it made her sit back down. She thought she shouldn’t interrupt. Then through the willow branches she could see them.

  “Sarah, I think you’ve tormented me quite long enough,” Wesley Lyons said. There was almost a whine in his voice, and yet he was angry too, Leah could tell.

  “I haven’t tormented you at all.” Sarah’s voice was calm, but Leah knew her sister well enough to know that she was disturbed. “If there’s any tormenting being done, I’m on the receiving end of it.”

  “I don’t think I have ever been accused of tormenting a young lady. As a matter of fact, my attentions have always been welcomed in that quarter.”

  “I’m sure they have, Wesley, and I appreciate the attention you’ve shown to me, but—”

  “Well, you certainly don’t act like it! I’ve spent days just trying to get you to be civil, Sarah, and I don’t see why you have to be so standoffish. What is it in me that you find objectionable?”

  “Oh, Wes, nothing that …” Sarah found several things objectionable about Captain Wesley Lyons, but she was too weary of the argument to carry it on. “It’s just that I’ll only be here for a limited time. I’ll go back to Kentucky, and you won’t see me anymore. Wesley, why don’t you go find some nice young lady, one of these that will welcome your attention, as you say? You’re wasting your time on me.”

  The captain stared at her, then said, “I suppose it’s that sergeant that you’re interested in.”

  “We’ve been friends a long time. We grew up together. Of course we’re friends.”

  “Don’t try to tell me that! You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Sarah suddenly looked directly at him. “Yes,” she said rather loudly. Her eyes were sparkling, and the anger that she had kept down suddenly flared. “I’m in love with him, and if this war ever ends and we both live through it, I expect to marry him one day. Now will you leave me alone!”

  “Yes, I certainly will!” Lyons jammed his cap on, turned, and strode stiff-legged toward the gate.

  Leah heard it slam, and then she heard Sarah begin to cry. She wanted to comfort her, but she didn’t want her sister to know that she had been an eavesdropper. Finally, Sarah seemed to get control of herself. Leah heard the screen door close.

  With her fists clenched, she struck the ground and whispered, “I wish that old captain would go away and never come back!”

  * * *

  “Your name is Sarah Carter?”

  A lieutenant was standing at the door, a piece of paper in his hand. Sarah had never seen him before, and for one moment she thought he had come to tell her something had happened to Tom or Jeff. “Yes—I’m Sarah Carter. Is something wrong?”

  The officer seemed a little embarrassed. “My name is Phelps, miss, Lieutenant Phelps. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to come with me.”

  Sarah looked past Lieutenant Phelps and saw two soldiers, privates, armed with muskets. They were watching her curiously.

  She turned back to the lieutenant. “Go with you? Why, go where? Whatever for?”

  “I have to inform you,” Lieutenant Phelps said, “that you are under arrest.”

  Leah had been standing inside the screen door, and now she came bursting out. “Under arrest? You can’t arrest my sister!”

  Sarah reached over and held Leah’s shoulder. The shock had stilled her for a moment, but she gathered herself and said, “Under arrest on what charge?”

  “Suspicion of treason. I’m sorry, miss, you’ll have to come with me right now.”

  Sarah felt Leah’s body trembling under her hand, and thoughts ran through her mind. Finally she said, “I suppose these charges began with Captain Wesley Lyons?”

  Lieutenant Phelps lowered his eyes. Then he shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t give you any information, ma’am. You’ll have a chance to defend yourself and ask any questions. Please, could you come with me now?”

  “Am I allowed to get a change of clothes? How long will I be held?”

  “Well, of course, go right ahead, ma’am. I think I’d take some clothes, if I were you.” He hesitated, then said, “These things usually take a while.”

  “Very well.”

  Sarah turned and went into the house.

  Leah followed her. “What in the world is it? Why would they be arresting you?”

  “I had a fight with Captain Lyons. I expect this is his way of getting back. I’ll have to go explain this to Uncle Silas.”

  Silas was sitting in his wheelchair, and when Sarah had finished, he said, “Nonsense! As errant nonsense as I ever heard! We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  He started to wheel himself forward, but Sarah said, “It will do no good. The lieutenant is determined.”

  “Well, I’ll try anyway. Wheel me out there, Leah.”

  Leah wheeled Uncle Silas out to the front porch where he argued loudly with Lieutenant Phelps, but in the end it did no good.

  Then Sarah came down the stairs wearing a light cloak and carrying a small canvas suitcase. She leaned over and kissed Uncle Silas. “I’ll have to go. Take care of Leah, Uncle Silas.”

  The old man and Leah watched silently as Sarah was escorted into an ambulance that was used for transporting prisoners. When the vehicle had moved out of sight, Leah said, “We’ve got to do something, Uncle Silas.”

  “Wheel me back inside, girl. Time for me to start writing letters, and then you’ll have to see that they get delivered. I’m writing Jeff Davis himself about this.”

  * * *

  Tom and Jeff walked down Elm Street. At the sight of the familiar house, Tom said, “I’ll sure be glad to see Sarah and Leah and their Uncle Silas too.” His arm was in a sling, but he had been told the wound was not serious. He grinned at Jeff. “I guess it’s worth a little shot in the hand to get to come back for a while—but I feel a little guilty.”

  “So do I,” Jeff answered. “You’ve got a reason for not being in the battle, but I don’t.”

  “Well, from what I hear, Stonewall’s eating the lunch of those Federals,” Tom remarked with pleasure. “I hear he’s got two or three generals, and their whole army’s running around like dogs after their own tail. That Stonewall, he’s some general.”

  They walked up onto the porch and knocked, and Jeff was almost bowled over when the screen door swung outward and struck him. “Hey! Watch out, Leah!” he complained. “I know you’re glad to see me, but—”

  “Oh, Jeff! Tom! They’ve arrested Sarah!”

  Tom flinched as though she had struck him. “Arrested Sarah? Who arrested her?” Tom demanded.

  “Somebody from the War Department. It’s all that old Captain Lyons’s fault!”

  “What happened? Tell me about it,” Tom pressed.

  They stood on the porch while Leah told the story. She even included how she had unintentionally eavesdropped. “I could tell he was mad as hops. Then that same day, a lieutenant came and took Sarah away.”

  Jeff shook his head. “Why, that’s the craziest thing I ever heard of—Sarah, a spy!”

  Leah frowned worriedly. “I know it’s crazy, but there’s all kinds of crazy stories going around Richmond. There are some Federal spies here—every
body knows that. And there are Southern spies in Washington—like Mrs. Greenhow I told you about. People are turning up ‘spies’ everywhere. Most of them aren’t, of course, but they just go around and arrest people and hold them in jail. They won’t even let them see a lawyer.”

  “What’s being done? What have you done? What has Uncle Silas done?” Tom asked rapidly.

  “Well, he’s written letters to almost everybody—the secretary of war and President Davis himself,” Leah said. “But I guess they’re pretty busy. We haven’t heard back from anybody yet, and I’m afraid Uncle Silas is going to pop his cork if something doesn’t happen soon. He’s so mad he can’t even talk straight.”

  They found this to be true. When Tom and Jeff went into the old man’s bedroom, they found him seated in a chair and waving a cane. At once he began ranting and raving about the idiots that ran the Confederacy and tried his best to get Tom to shove him down to the War Department.

  “I’ll face Jeff Davis face-to-face, man to man!” he sputtered. “If he lets this kind of thing go on, he’s no man for the presidency of the Southern Confederacy.”

  “Now take it easy, Uncle Silas,” Tom said. He summoned up a smile. “I’m afraid you’d shoot him if I took you down there. Let me go see what I can do. I know one of the lieutenants who works in the War Department. He was in our outfit till he got shot in the foot—they put him there to work at a desk job. Let me see what I can do.”

  Tom left at once, refusing to let Jeff go with him.

  After he had gone, Jeff and Leah talked for an hour, mostly about Sarah. Finally Leah said almost tearfully, “Well, we were only worried about your dad—now it looks like my family is in about as bad a shape as yours.” Her lips trembled.

  Jeff patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t forget now what you made me agree to. We were going to trust the Lord to take care of my father. Why can’t we do the same thing for Sarah?”

  “Will you pray with me, Jeff? I’m really scared,” Leah said. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.”

  “Why, sure. I guess I’m going to have to learn to be more of a praying fellow,” Jeff said. “Looks like things we can’t handle keep piling up on us.”

  The two bowed their heads, and they prayed for Sarah. Then they prayed for Jeff’s father.

  When they were through, Leah said softly, “Thank you, Jeff. It’s nice to have somebody to pray with.”

  “Sure is.”

  * * *

  Tom Majors was a levelheaded young man. He kept calm for two days, but he was unable to get in to see Sarah. Furthermore, he was unable to find anyone who would even talk about the problem. The friend he had depended on said simply, “Well, that’s how it is, Tom. I guess you better write a letter to the secretary of war or somebody.”

  “That’s already been done,” Tom said, “and it didn’t do a bit of good.” He left the office angrily. Perhaps things would have been all right, but he walked the streets of Richmond letting the anger build up in him.

  “Captain Wesley Lyons—he’s behind all this!” he muttered to himself. He clenched his teeth and nodded. “All right, we’ll just see what Captain Wesley Lyons has to say.”

  He went to the building that housed the Quartermaster Corps, marched inside, and faced the corporal in an outer office. “I’m here to see Captain Lyons.”

  “What’s your name, Sergeant?”

  “I’m Sergeant Tom Majors, and you might as well tell him I’ll sit here in this office till doomsday, so he might as well see me.”

  The clerk looked startled, then grinned. “I’ll tell him,” he said.

  He disappeared into an inner office. There was the sound of voices, and then the door opened. “He says he won’t see you. Sorry about that, Sergeant Majors.”

  Tom surged forward and brushed the corporal aside.

  “Hey! You can’t go in there!” the corporal protested, but Tom slammed the door in his face.

  Inside the office Captain Wesley Lyons blinked in surprise, then came to his feet. “Get out of my office, Majors. I told you I wouldn’t see you.”

  “Well, you do see me, don’t you?” Tom said. “I’m standing right in front of you, Captain.”

  “You—you’re disobeying a direct order,” Lyons shouted. “Now get out of here!”

  “I’ll leave when you tell me why you’ve had Sarah Carter arrested. You know she’s no spy!”

  Lyons came around from behind his desk. He was taller than Tom, and he was angry. “I’m giving you one last chance. Get out of this office, or I’ll have you arrested for insubordination!”

  Tom ordinarily would have obeyed, but anger had built up in him for too long. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what you did—or let me tell you what you did. You couldn’t win Sarah for yourself so you had her put in jail. What kind of a man do you call yourself anyhow? You’re not a man—you’re a spoiled brat!”

  “Corporal! Corporal!” Lyons bawled. He reached out to turn Tom around and shove him out the door. Just as the door opened and the corporal entered, Tom pushed Lyons backward.

  “Did you see that? He struck me! Place this man under arrest, Corporal!” The corporal looked startled and said, “But, sir—”

  “Did you hear me? Did you hear that order? I said, place this man under arrest!”

  The corporal blinked. “I’m sorry, Sergeant. You see how it is. You’ll have to come with me.”

  Tom wanted to throw himself on Lyons and batter him with both fists. Fortunately he regained some of his calm, took a deep breath, slowly expelled it. “Yes, sir. I’ll obey your order.”

  “You needn’t think being mild and meek will help you now. You’ll be shot for this. Now get him out of here.”

  When they were outside, the corporal looked at him curiously. “Well, you sure stirred him up. What did you say to him?”

  “It was about a friend of mine he had arrested.” He saw a light flicker in the corporal’s eyes. “I see you know about it.”

  “Well, I know a little, but I can’t talk about it.”

  Tom saw that the man knew considerably more than he was saying. “All right, let’s go get me put in jail,” he said. “Do me one favor. Miss Carter has an elderly uncle named Silas Carter. He lives on Elm Street where she was arrested. Would you send word down there what’s happened to me? And you might send word to my unit too.”

  “What’s your unit?”

  “I’m in the Stonewall Brigade”

  “You work for Stonewall Jackson?” The corporal whistled. “I wish I did. He’s eating those Yankees alive out in the Valley.” He looked at Tom’s bandaged hand. “You get shot fighting with Stonewall?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Well, that ought to help you some. Stonewall’s really somebody right now!”

  15

  A Brief Trial

  and a Quick Verdict

  Mrs. Mary Chesnut was accustomed to receiving guests. Her home was the center for the highest society of Richmond. General Lee, General Hood, and President Davis were frequent guests. Mrs. Chesnut’s best friend was Varina Davis, the wife of the president.

  But when she opened the door early one morning, after hearing an insistent knock, she was taken aback by the sight of a young girl, staring at her with tragic eyes.

  “Mrs. Chesnut,” the girl said, “I guess you don’t remember me.”

  “Why, I’m afraid I don’t, child.”

  “My sister and I were at a tea that you had. I’m Leah Carter, and my sister’s name is Sarah.”

  “Why, yes, of course, I remember you now. Come in, come in at once.” Mary Chesnut stepped back, and Leah entered. “How is your uncle? He was very ill, if I remember correctly.”

  “He’s fine, Mrs. Chesnut. But it’s my sister—she’s in awful trouble.”

  Mary Chesnut stared at the girl. “Well, perhaps you’d better come into the parlor. We can talk about it there.” She led the way down the hall. Opening a door, she took Leah inside
a room that was rather small and filled with sewing baskets and fragments of quilts in various stages. “Sit down right there. Move that quilt out of the way, Leah,” Mrs. Chesnut said. “Now then, tell me all about it.”

  Leah hesitated. “It’s so awful. You remember that there was a captain who was attentive to my sister.”

  “Why, yes, I do remember. Captain Lyons, wasn’t

  it?”

  “That’s him. Well, he’s been coming to call on her ever since that tea.”

  “I suppose your sister is very flattered to have such a handsome, eligible young man calling on her.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am, she doesn’t want him, and that’s what caused the trouble.”

  Mrs. Chesnut blinked. She saw that the girl’s lower lip was trembling as if she were on the verge of tears. “What is it, child?” she asked. “What’s wrong with your sister?”

  “She’s been arrested!” Leah burst out, and then tears did run down her cheeks. She let them flow unheeded and said, “She’s no spy, Mrs. Chesnut. She wouldn’t do anything like that. We just came here to take care of my Uncle Silas.”

  “Now, dry those tears.” Mrs. Chesnut produced a silk handkerchief and handed it to her. “Tell me all about it. Go very slowly now.” She sat and listened until the story had poured out of Leah. Then Mrs. Chesnut said, “Why, it sounds frightful. When is the trial to be?”

  “I think it’s today, but they won’t tell us anything. They won’t let us in to see her either.”

  Mary Chesnut was a woman of firm convictions. She was a little on the rebellious side, refusing to accept the traditional role of a woman. She had, at times, a rather sharp tongue. Somehow the sight of Leah’s tearful face angered her. She said, “Let me get my cape. We’ll go down and find my husband, Colonel Chesnut. Then we’ll see about this!”

  Things happened rapidly. Leah was bundled into a carriage, and all the way to the War Department she found herself telling the lady beside her about life in Kentucky. By the time they had reached the War Department and were out of the carriage, Mary Chesnut knew all about Jeff and Tom and their father, Nelson Majors.