Free Yankee Belles in Dixie by Gilbert L. Morris Page A

protested.
    But she only shook her head. Carefully she held the letter close to the heat until it grew warm to the touch. She bent over, peering at it, then cried, “That’s it!”
    â€œThat’s what?” he asked in bewilderment. “Look, Pa!” Leah held up the letter, and he pulled out his spectacles. Putting them on his nose, he leaned forward. “Why, what’s that between the lines?”
    â€œThat’s our secret code. It’s written in lemon juice, and when you heat it, it comes out all nice and brown. See?”
    â€œWell, I never heard the like of that! What does it say?”
    Leah had to peer closely to read the secret writing.
    Leah, me and Tom will be leaving soon. We’re going to some place called Fort Donelson in Tennessee. Word is here that some Yankee general, somebody called Grant, is going to try to take it, and we’re going to have to stop him. Don’t tell anybody about this. I guess we’ll be in fighting, so if you want to pray for me and Tom, it’ll be all right. We’re still the best of friends
.
    Leah looked up and whispered, “We can’t tell anybody about this, Pa, or we’d be spies.”
    â€œNo, and I guess you better burn that letter.”
    â€œNo, I won’t do that, but I’ll hide it so nobody will ever find it.” Leah clutched the letter tightlyand whispered, “Fort Donelson—I don’t even know where that is.”
    â€œWell, I do. It’s on a river in Tennessee, and it’s not good for us.”
    â€œWhy not, Pa?”
    â€œBecause, Pet, that’s where your brother, Royal, has been sent, him and some of the troops to reinforce General Grant.”
    Leah looked startled. “Oh, that’s awful! Why, that could mean that Royal and Tom could be shooting at each other.”
    â€œThat’s what it means, all right. We’re going to have to trust God to keep them from doing that.”

8
General Forrest
Saves the Day
    B y the time the Richmond troops arrived at Fort Donelson, Jeff and Tom were worn out. They had ridden part of the way on flat cars but walked the last forty miles. Now, as they sat wearily around a campfire, hugging it for warmth, Jeff said with chattering teeth, “I don’t see why we had to come all the way down here, Tom. Seems to me there’d be plenty of fighting going on around Richmond.”
    â€œI reckon this is more important than you know, Jeff.”
    Jeff stared at the old crumbling fort perched on the banks of the Tennessee River. “It don’t look like much to me. What’s so all-fired important about it?”
    Tom blew on his hands, then held them close to the flickering yellow flames. “Well, look here …” Picking up a stick, he began to draw in the dirt. “You see, right here—this is the Confederate line. Here it comes across bluegrass country and all the way across Missouri and on to Indian Territory, several hundred miles long. Now all this is under the command of General Albert Sidney Johnston.”
    â€œI’ve heard of him!” Jeff exclaimed. “They say President Davis puts a lot of stock in him.”
    â€œThat’s right. He said once he didn’t know about other generals but he knew he had one, and that was Albert Sidney Johnston.”
    â€œHe ain’t as good as Robert E. Lee, I bet,” Jeff said loyally. He looked around again. “What about this fort?”
    Tom drew more wavy lines. “Well, here’s the Tennessee River, and here’s the Cumberland. You see, they run side by side until they come toward the Ohio. Now, right here at the Ohio the Union gunboats have been a threat to our line.”
    â€œI don’t see what difference that makes. A few gunboats couldn’t whip all of us Confederates stretching across here, could they?”
    â€œNo, but here’s what happens. You see this area here—here’s where we been getting