The Yankees are Coming, the Yankees are Coming

This is another story about a house down the road from Memma and Granddaddy's farmhouse in Larkinsville.  I'll try to share the story as I heard it (and of course, I am sure I have embellished the version over the years).

These women lived in Larkinsville down a dirt road that followed parallel to the railroad tracks. All of the men folk were off fighting on one side of the war or another (and that is another story).   The women had a fire going underneath a big, black iron pot filled with water and the water was bubbling it was so hot.  It was wash day.  One of the women looked up and declared, "Look at that whirlwind kicking up." 
Another woman looked up from stoking the fire, shielding her eyes with her hand as she eyed the red clay dust rolling towards them.
"Lord, that ain't no whirlwind, that's horses kicking up that dust," she cried.
"Lord, save us, a woman cried as she came running from the house with an apron full of silver. The Yankees are coming."   She raced down the steps into the cellar and came out just as the horses galloped up into the yard.  The men dismounted and began to chase the chickens around the yard.  The women stood there, frightful looking nervously towards the cellar.  One the soldiers started towards the cellar.  The women took a hoe handle through the handle of the old, black pot and spun boiling water on the men.  The horses reared and the soldiers danced a jig, trying to dodge the wrath of the women.  They jumped onto the horses with what few chickens they had gathered and got the heck out of dodge.
And, thus, the women's silver was saved from the Yankees.