I had asked the dealer, "What if it's counterfeit?" He had explained that if it were dated to just after the cessation of the War Between the States (which we Southerners sometimes call the "Wa-ah" of Northern Aggression), it would be worth even more. I had already decided I would not accept $30,000 I would hold out for $50,000. I left the shop, drove around in my car – doors locked – and finally parked behind a huge oak tree, looking all around to make sure no one could see the lady who had a $50,000 artifact in her purse. And depending on the condition of the bill, he would be prepared to pay between $10,000 and $30,000. He called a currency specialist in the neighboring town who said he could meet me in half an hour, after he had gone to his bank. When I went to his establishment I did not tell him it was on my person but that I would go and get it when I knew what procedure to follow. Eyes popping, she asked, "Do you want to invest it?" When she saw the crisp Confederate States of America bill she carefully wrapped it in tissue, placed it in a bank envelope, and gave me the name of a trustworthy dealer in a tiny town just a few minutes from my home. Weak-kneed and trembling, I went to the bank and told the head teller I had a $50,000 article in my purse. Printed in Montgomery, Ala., first capital of the Confederacy therefore more valuable than had it been printed in Richmond, Va., where the capital moved to later. Confederate money is worthless." After Googling, he assured me of its worth. I asked my son if he would like to have a $1,000 Confederate bill I found in my grandfather's ragged Bible. During sweltering weather in the foothills of western North Carolina, I was doing indoor chores, such as cleaning out drawers and cubbyholes.