Yankee Belles in Dixie (2 page)

Thinking of this, Jeff shook his head. “Things sure have gotten mixed up, haven't they?”

Tentatively, Leah touched his arm, drawing his eyes around to her. “One day it will be all right. The war will be over, and Tom and Sarah will get married. And Esther will grow up, and you and your father will come back and live in Kentucky again.”

“You really believe that, Leah?”

“Yes!”

Jeff examined her face carefully. “I'm glad you do. Sometimes I doubt it—but I hope you always believe it, Leah.”

When they got within a hundred yards of the house, Jeff suddenly halted and took her arm. “I'll be leaving here soon.”

“Oh,
don't
go back to the war—you could get killed!” Leah pleaded, looking up at him with alarm in her eyes.

“Well, I'm not going back to the army right now.”

“Where are you going then?”

Jeff pulled off his straw hat and ran his hand through his black hair. He bit his lip. “I'm going to Washington—to see my father.”

“Why—you can't do that!” Leah exclaimed. “You're in the Confederate Army. You're a drummer boy—not carrying a gun—but I don't think that matters!” She shook her head so that her blonde hair swung over her back. “You can't do it, Jeff! You'll get caught, and they shoot spies!”

“I don't care—I've got to do it!”

She stood there arguing with him.

Finally, when he said, “I'm going, and that's all there is to it,” and she said, “You are the most stubborn boy on the face of the earth!” Leah seemed to have a sudden thought.

“Well, you can't go alone,” she announced. “You can go with me and Pa.” Jeff stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“Why, now that Pa's a sutler, you know we follow the Union Army everywhere, selling them things. The army's just outside Washington, and Pa said last night we're leaving soon to take care of the soldiers.”

Dan Carter had decided that it was God's will for him—even though he was not in good health—to follow the Northern army and sell supplies to the soldiers. In addition to the usual tobacco and paper and thread, he carried Bibles and tracts, which he distributed to the lonesome soldiers of the Army of the Potomac.

Jeff shook his head stubbornly. “No, that wouldn't be right. You both might get caught. Then we'd all three get shot.”

“We won't get caught.”

Jeff knew she was almost as stubborn as he was.

For a time she seemed to be thinking hard. Finally her eyes began to sparkle. “You can be our helper,” she cried. “You don't look like a Southern spy. Just wear those old clothes you've got on, keep your mouth shut, and nobody will ever know but what you're just a helper.”

They talked excitedly, and by the time they got back to the house and went to find her father, Leah had already thought of a plan. She explained it carefully to her father.

Daniel Carter was a thin man with a rather sickly look and faded blue eyes. He listened, his eyes on the two of them, his mouth firm under a scraggly mustache. He had been badly wounded in the Mexican War and could not join the army now, but
he wanted to serve his country. When Leah was finished, he nodded slowly. “Well, I think that may be the thing to do.” He cut off Jeff's protest by saying, “You don't know this young lady like I do, Jeff. When she gets her mind set on something, she's as stubborn as a blue-nosed mule!”

“Pa, don't say that!” Leah exclaimed. “I'm not a bit like a mule!”

“Well, you're a lot prettier than one.” Her father smiled. “But I still say you're just about as stubborn.” Then he turned back to Jeff. “We'd better do it that way, Jeff. I know you're worried about your pa. You can go with us, and we'll see if the Lord will help us get to see him.”

Jeff swallowed hard. The kindness of this family was more than he ever bargained for. When they had agreed to take his newborn sister, Esther, for as long as necessary, he'd thought they were the finest people in the world. Now he knew so!

“Thanks, Mr. Carter. Me and Pa and Tom, we won't ever forget you for this!”

M
ama, I think Esther's the prettiest baby in the whole world!” Leah was holding Jeff's baby sister, making dimples in her rosy cheeks, and stroking her fine blonde hair.

Mrs. Carter stopped folding blankets and smiled over at her daughter. “You love all babies. You never saw an ugly one in your whole life.”

“An ugly baby?” Leah was shocked. “Why, Ma, there's not any such thing!” She swung the child around in her arms and stuck her finger in the creases of her fat neck. “You're just the prettiest one, now aren't you?” she cooed.

Her sister, Sarah, sitting across the room churning, didn't break her stroke as she smiled at the pair. “I wish you did all your other work around here as well as you take care of Esther.”

Sarah was a beautiful girl with dark hair and blue eyes. She had an oval face and a beautiful creamy complexion. However, she had not been as lively since the war started—especially since Tom Majors had left to join the Army of Northern Virginia.

But now she seemed to shake off the sadness that had come to be almost habitual and found a smile. “I thought you and Jeff were going to go trot lining.”

“We are. I'm supposed to meet him down at the river.” Leah put the baby into the cradle her father
had made and ran her hands once more over the silky hair. “I'll be back, but you'll be asleep. I'll see you in the morning, Esther.”

Leah's younger sister, Morena, was standing beside the cradle. She was eight years old with dark hair and powder blue eyes. She was pretty, but her mind had never developed.

“You take care of baby Esther, Morena,” Leah said, hugging the younger girl. “I'll bring you a fish when I come back—all right?” She got no answer. She never did. However she did get a smile from Morena.

“Don't you fall in the river and drown,” her mother said sternly.

* * *

   Mrs. Carter folded the last blanket as Leah ran out of the room. Then she said to Sarah, “She's enjoyed Jeff's visit so much. They've always been such great friends.”

Sarah continued to churn. “I hate to see him go back. Leah will miss him, almost as much as I—”

Mrs. Carter looked up quickly. “As you miss Tom?”

“Yes. I sometimes don't think I can stand it, Mother! He can be killed any day.” She sighed and made a few strokes with the churn handle. Then she asked, “Do you think this war will ever be over?”

“All wars are over, sooner or later—and the good Lord will take care of Tom—and Royal too. We'll just have to keep praying.”

* * *

   
Leah ran up to her room and put on her faded overalls. They were ragged and patched, but they were comfortable. It would be cold on the river, so she grabbed a blue woolen sweater. Stopping suddenly before the small mirror on the wall, she looked at herself, then shook her head. “You giant you, why can't you be small like other girls?”

Leah saw herself as a giantess, and her mother had a time with her when she began stooping. “Leah, be as tall as God made you!” she'd said.

Remembering her mother's words, Leah straightened her shoulders involuntarily. She picked up an old black felt hat that had belonged to Royal, then dashed out the door.

The sun was far down in the west, throwing its red beams over the valley as she ran along the road. Already she could hear the night birds calling softly.

When she reached the river she saw a flickering fire and Jeff Majors sitting beside it, feeding sticks into the blaze.

“I've been waiting for you. We've got to get that line out before it gets dark.”

“I'm ready.”

“What've you got in your sack? Something to eat, I hope!”

“I knew you'd be hungry—you always are. Anyway, Royal's coming later,” Leah said. “Right after dark. He's going to be our chaperone.”

“Chaperone! What's that?” Jeff demanded.

“Oh, kind of a babysitter for boys and girls like us.”

“Well—” Jeff shrugged “—maybe he'll be some help running the lines. Come on, let's go get the trot line out.”

They clambered into the twelve-foot-long john boat. Built out of cypress, it would float even if full of water.

Jeff shoved off with a paddle. “I know a good place,” he said. “We're going to catch more fish tonight than you've ever seen, Leah!”

He paddled toward a bend in the river, then got out his long cord. He tied it to the base of a small tree, then paddled across the river, letting the current take the boat a hundred yards downstream. There he tied the other end to another sapling. “Now,” he said, “let's get the hooks on. You pull the boat along, and I'll tie them.”

“All right. And I'll put the weights on too.”

Leah loved trot lining. She had learned how from Jeff and her father when she was just a child. As they moved along the line, Jeff took hooks attached to twelve-inch strings and tied them to the heavy line about six feet apart. Leah's job was to attach an iron weight every twenty feet to keep the line on the river bottom.

They accomplished the job quickly, and when they got to the other side, Jeff said, “Now, you can do the fun part—baiting the hooks.”

Leah turned up her nose. “That bait stinks. I hate that job!”

“You should have stayed home then.” But Jeff grinned. “Catfish bait's supposed to stink. That's what makes them bite. But I'll do it. You pull the boat along.”

Glad to get out of the baiting job, Leah hauled the boat slowly while Jeff baited every hook.

When they got to the other side, he put the top back on the bait can. “Now, we'll wait an hour. Let's go back to the fire.”

As soon as they sat down, Jeff said, “I'm hungry. Let's eat!”

“We just got here!” Leah said indignantly. “You'll be hungry at midnight.”

“I don't care. I'm hungry now. What's in your sack?”

Leah picked up the large bag, reached inside, and pulled out a smaller package. “Funnel cakes.” She grinned broadly. “If you're good, you can have some.”

“Funnel cakes!
Gimme!” Jeff cried and took one from her hand. He bit into it and chewed slowly, closing his eyes. “Nobody can make funnel cakes like your ma. I wish I could take these back to camp with me—these and about a thousand more. They wouldn't last long with all those hungry soldiers though.”

Leah took a funnel cake for herself and sat back and nibbled at it. “Tell me about the army, Jeff. What's it like?”

“I've already told you everything.”

“Well, tell it again,” she urged. “You don't know what it's like being stuck at home and the war's going on and we don't know anything. Tell me, Jeff.”

Jeff took a bite of cake, chewed on it thoughtfully, then began. He told what it was like to be a drummer boy learning the different signals. “The troops, they couldn't go anywhere without us. We tell them when to charge, when to rally on the flag, when to go to the right or the left, when to retreat.”

“You have to be awful close to the fighting then, don't you, Jeff?” Leah said. “Aren't you afraid?”

“I was only in one battle, but I was plenty scared that time, with bullets flying everywhere. I guess I was thinking most that I couldn't show the white
feather. I couldn't let Pa or Tom see how scared I was—or the lieutenant. But I reckon all of us felt that way when we charged across the field.”

Leah hesitated. “What was it like—to see people killed?”

Jeff swallowed the last morsel, and a moody look crossed his face. “I hated it,” he said simply. “Seemed foolish to me. There was one fellow not much older than me. Well, just before the battle he told me how he was just about ready to get married. He was just in for ninety days—just wanted to see the battle.”

The fire crackled, blowing sparks upward into the darkness where they seemed to mingle with the stars that were coming out overhead.

Jeff looked thoughtful and sad. “His name was Tim O'Reilly. His girl's name was Julia. He'd known her all his life, and they were planning a big wedding. He was going to get a little piece of land, he said, as soon as he got back to Alabama.” He took up a stick and poked the fire. “He never made it though.”

“I wish you didn't have to go back,” Leah said again.

The two sat for a while, and then he said abruptly, “Tell me about being a sutler. What's that like?”

“Oh, it's not bad, not like—not like being in the fighting. We stay way behind the lines. The men come, and they buy paper to write letters, and they ask for tobacco and stamps and all sorts of things.”

She continued to tell him about following the Army of the Potomac, and finally she lifted her head. “Listen, somebody's coming. Royal, I guess.”

Sure enough, Royal Carter emerged from the darkness and came to the fire. He was nineteen and
not tall but thick and strong with blond hair and blue eyes. He wore a ragged mustache and sideburns and was called “The Professor” by the men of his regiment because he had been to college.

“Well, how many fish have you caught?”

“Just waiting for you to go run the lines the first time, Royal,” Jeff said. “Haven't heard any splashing, though, so maybe we ought to wait a while. Sit down and have something to eat.”

Royal sat down and took some of the funnel cakes that Leah offered him.

Jeff had always admired Royal. He was the smartest man Jeff knew. He was his brother Tom's best friend, and the three of them had hunted together and fished together for years. At times, when Tom would have left Jeff at home, Royal would say, “Aw, let him come with us, Tom,” which had endeared him to the younger boy.

After they had talked for a while, Jeff said, “Let's go run the lines now. We can all three get in the boat. You can pull us across, Leah, I'll take the fish off, and, Royal, you can bait up.”