Yankee Belles in Dixie (14 page)

Tom too knew that most men shot in the stomach did not live, but he said, “You know what Pa always said—God can do anything.”

“I guess I'll just believe that then.” Jeff hesitated. “Still pretty hard to believe God's gonna get Pa out of that prison. Me and Leah's trying to believe it though. I think she believes it more than I do.”

Tom held his wounded hand against his chest to avoid the jolting of the wagon. “You listen to that girl,” he said, fatigue in his voice. “She's got more gumption and more sense than most men I've known.”

T
he three large pecan trees in back of Silas Carter's house dropped their leaves annually and made a thick carpet. Next to the house and behind the tool shed they were simply raked up to make a path. Leah had found that these moldy piles were prime hunting grounds for night crawlers. The huge worms that could almost wiggle away when the leaves were raked back made excellent bait. Leah had kept the household well supplied with thumping bream, bass, and blue channel catfish.

Late in May she was out with a bucket, capturing some of the lively creatures for a good afternoon's fishing trip. She reached under the thick mattress of leaves, threw it away, and there saw at least a dozen night crawlers, some seven or eight inches long, scrambling wildly away from the light.

Quickly she made a grab and seized four of them before the rest disappeared under the leaves. “Gotcha,” she said with satisfaction. She tossed a handful of moldy leaves into the bucket to cover the squirming bait and proceeded to uncover more.

This was a job she liked. She thought about Jeff's teasing her, for at first she could not stand even to touch a worm, much less thread one on a hook! But a sense of pride came to her as she thought of how she had beaten him on their last fishing trip together.

She had learned to love this backyard. It was enclosed with a high board fence turned gray with
age. The yard gave her a sense of being on an island, for the trees grew wildly here. One huge fig tree promised juicy fruit in case she was there to get it in the fall. A weeping willow spread its limbs to the ground. She loved to make whips out of its branches and pretend she was driving a horse and carriage. On a walnut tree she found large balls from last year and delighted in cracking them and picking out the nuts with the blade of a sharp knife. She had made a walnut cake three days earlier, and Uncle Silas had pronounced it the best ever made.

“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—everybody 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.”