Hardee turned, speculative eyes on Hindman, as he said, “Well, General, do you think you can effectively withdraw your division? We need to do it smartly, leave nothing behind.”
“If there’s a way, sir, we can do it.” Hindman turned to Butler. “Lieutenant, I think I’m going to need your consummate skills in crafting the orders.”
Butler replied, “‘It appears that Hektor has breached the sharp-staked ditch. Let us only hope that he doesn’t drive us back among the ships.’”
“Lieutenant?” Hardee asked, confused.
“He refers to Homer’s Iliad,” Johnston replied thoughtfully. “Because if we’re like the Greeks being forced back among our ships, we can only hope the British or French will turn out to be our Achilles.”
“And if they are not?”
Hardee answered, “Then we are in for a long and deadly affair.”
11
February 10, 1862
Billy pounded up the lane riding Clyde, their big buckskin-colored horse. From the saddle he glanced back to make sure the pack on old Swat was riding well despite his hurried pace. One of the first skills Paw had taught him was to throw a proper diamond hitch on a packhorse.
As if the weather would never turn, this cold February day, too, was dreary with the threat of rain. He had been down to Fayetteville in Washington County where Confederate money was traded at a higher value than here in the hinterlands. After all, Hébert’s brigade was quartered there, and the soldiers insisted on their currency being honored.
The salt, sugar, powder, shot, caps, ax head, saw, and horseshoes were supplies not locally available in Benton County. Maw had thought that with the soldiers around, powder, shot, and caps might have been hard to come by. What Billy had found, however, was a thriving contraband trade, whereby military goods were flowing into the civilian market in exchange for luxuries in a soldier’s life, particularly alcohol and tobacco.
More than that, he had gone for news. And news, he’d discovered, was available by the bucketful. Especially given the excitement that had broken within an hour of a courier’s announcement that General Price had abandoned Springfield, ninety miles north of the Arkansas line, and was fleeing ahead of a massive Federal force bent on the invasion of Arkansas.
While pleas had been coming rapid-fire from General Price for a couple of weeks, no one had taken the threat of a Union winter campaign seriously, chalking it up to Sterling Price’s paranoia.
Now, as Billy clattered into the yard and jumped from the saddle, he ran to the door, flung it open, and called, “Maw? I got news! The Federals is coming!”
Then he turned back to the horses, walking both Clyde and Swat in circles to cool them down before he led them to the barn and unloaded the packhorse’s load.
Maw, swinging her shawl around her shoulders, led Sarah at a hurried walk as she crossed the yard, demanding, “What on earth are you shouting about? Federals? What Federals?”
Billy glanced over his shoulder as he began to rub Clyde down. “It’s all over Fayetteville, and I heard it on the road north, too. Some Yankee general by the name of Curtis has taken Springfield. Kicked old ‘Pap’ Price out of his winter quarters and is nipping at his hindmost. Price’s Missouri Rebel army is running like scared hares down the Wire Road.”
Sarah had stripped the pack saddle off Swat and was using straw to rub him down. “Are they coming here?”
Billy shrugged. “Depends on if McCulloch’s troops can stop them, I guess. I didn’t want no part of it, so I took the Cross Hollow trail from Mud Town and followed it over to Van Winkle’s Mill. For all I know, Price’s Missouri cowards may have reached the tavern by now.” He shot Maw a knowing look. “And, with any luck, the Federals will chase their scrawny Missouri arses all the way to Fort Smith and out of our county.”
Maw stood, head down, back arched, fingering her chin. “You’re sure of this, Billy?”
“Yes’am. As sure as anyone else, anyway. Yankees ain’t more than three or four days away at most according to the last reports. And I passed a heap of folks, soldiers and common folk, on the Wire Road before I turned off. All of them is fleeing ahead of the Yankees.”
Maw took a deep breath, making a decision. “Then we’d better be ready. No telling which army we should fear the most. Rebels or Federals. You two, pack as much meal as you can, take the hens, the horses, and get them up Hancock Creek and into the forest. Maybe up to that trapper’s cabin Paw used to use. Back in that cul-de-sac like it is, it’s as good a hideout as any in these hills. Then, Billy, you stay there until Sarah comes with the all clear.”
“Maw?” he protested, turning. “You want me to hide out?”
Maw stepped close, a wan smile on her lips. “Federals or Rebels, they’re not going to bother women. Not even Missouri men are that low. But the food and livestock? They’ll steal it all without a moment’s notice.”
She poked a finger into his breast. “And they’ll take you, too, those Yankees will. And maybe, if there’s a fight brewing, Ben McCulloch might forget you’re only coming on fifteen, stick a rifle in your arms, and march you out in the front lines to get shot.”
Billy ground his jaws as he looked around at the familiar house, the pens, barn, corn crib, and fields. An odd tingling filled his chest.
“What is it, son?” Maw asked, eyes on his.
“Just don’t seem right. This is home. It’s just that a fella ought to feel safe at home.” He waved a hand at the world at large. “It’s out there that oughta be scary.”
A twinkle appeared in Maw’s eye. “And where, Billy Hancock, will you be safest? Sitting here waiting to be pressed into someone’s army? Or out there in the woods? Just
