Dewley’s smile, like some deadly insolent thing, widened. For a long moment, he let his gaze linger on Sarah, then turned his attention to Maw. He fixed on the double-barrel shotgun she rested butt-down on the floorboards.
The second he did, the spell seemed to break, and Sarah fled to the porch, stumbling, almost shaking as she rushed, childlike, behind her mother’s protection. Her joints had gone weak, as if her legs didn’t want to hold her.
In the yard, Fly continued with his drawling bark, tail wagging slowly as if trying to decipher the good or evil of the invaders.
“Ma’am,” Dewley said with the flick of a finger to his brim. “We’re just passing through. I think they call it canvassing. A sort of campaign. Where might your sympathies lie in the current troubles?”
Sarah glanced again at the Union-blue coats behind the saddles, and then at the weapons Dewley’s men carried. An assortment of shotguns, and a sprinkle of different, apparently new, breech-loading carbines. Rumor told of bushwhackers who wore stolen Yankee uniforms to ride into Union territory before murdering all around them.
“We’re Secesh,” Sarah called proudly. “Paw was killed at Shiloh under Bragg. My brother’s a captain in Hardee’s Corps.”
A look of disappointment crossed Dewley’s face. “That is good to hear, Miss Hancock. Good indeed. We were almost deceived by the apparent prosperity of your farm. So many loyal Southerners have not fared so well, having paid for their dedication to our cause. Suffering Yankee aggression and persecution, they are left destitute. All this in the wake of Captain Darrow’s foul ambush and murder by traitorous, jayhawking Altee and Shockup Unionists.”
“I don’t recognize you, Colonel,” Maw said warily. “And I know most folks hereabouts.”
“We hail from over to Marion County, ma’am. It has been our honor to cleanse our home country of traitors and defeatist cowards. We have been asked by friends and patriots to extend our patrols here. In the wake of that inept despot Hindman’s defeat at Prairie Grove, we have been told that a vile taint of Unionism has been springing up here in the northwest. We cannot allow that to happen.” He smiled again, showing his broken teeth.
“Thank you for your concern, Colonel.” Maw stepped to the edge of the porch, pointing. “At the end of the lane, take a right on the road. Six miles up, atop Pea Ridge, you’ll come to Elkhorn Tavern and the Telegraph Wire Road. Watch out for Federal cavalry and patrols. If you’re looking for the latest information, the tavern is the place to find it. Be careful, Colonel.”
Dewley’s lips were twitching again as once more he turned his attention to Sarah, a quickening in his ice-cold eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched, fingers working over the reins, as if he were grasping and caressing something in his mind.
The rest of the men, too, were staring at Sarah as if they’d never seen a woman before. The thin-faced young man had started to smile, licking his lips, a curious glittering in his eyes.
“We’ve had a long ride, ma’am,” Colonel Dewley said casually. “Might there be a drink to be had? Forage for our horses?”
“River’s yonder,” she told him. “You see them trees down to the south? Five miles beyond, on the Huntsville Road, is the ruins of Van Winkle’s mill. It’s all gone to grass, flat for good camping, and sweet water. You can see clearly for a mile in every direction. That’s the junction between the Huntsville Road and the cut-across through Cross Hollow. If a Yankee cavalry patrol were to appear, you’d have time to withdraw. There’s the three roads and another six trails that take off up into the hills and up War Eagle Creek.”
“I take your meaning, Mrs. Hancock.” He kept his hungry eyes on Sarah. “With my deepest respect, ma’am,” he added, but Sarah wasn’t sure if he meant Maw or her, or if it were being said in mockery.
With a flip of the reins, Colonel Dewley spurred his big black horse and led the way out of the yard. One by one, the men withdrew to follow, each one taking a last look about as if memorizing the yard, the buildings, and house. But most of all, they kept looking at Sarah, each with a promise behind his eyes that she didn’t want to think about.
Heart still pounding, Sarah gasped in relief as the last of them rode down the lane. “I’ve never been that frightened by a man in my life.”
Maw picked up the shotgun, her eyes hard as she watched the bushwhackers wade their horses into the White River to drink. They were talking among themselves now, all of them looking back, some laughing.
“Sarah, I want you to go in the house and stay out of sight for a couple of days.”
Just the tone in Maw’s voice kept the shiver alive along Sarah’s backbone.
“Do you think they’ll be back?”
“Hope not.” Maw drew a deep breath and blew it out as if exhaling an unreasonable tension. “I’ve never hoped for any man’s death before, but it would suit me just fine if they ride up to the tavern and smack into a company of Federal cavalry.”
For the rest of the day, Sarah had the jitters. And that night, even though she propped chairs against the doors in addition to throwing the bolts, Dewley’s blue eyes burned through her dreams and left her trembling, alone, and scared.
35
September 3, 1863
The last of the light was fading over Lookout Mountain where it rose like a dark leviathan to the west. The mountain’s northernmost point dropped off to mark the Tennessee River Valley west of Chattanooga. To the north, past the lines of worn tents, the rooftops of the city were barely visible in the shadows.
The smell of wood smoke hung low in the warm summer air, accented by frying bacon, roasting corn dogers, and what passed for coffee among General Bragg’s ragtag Army of the Tennessee.
Butler’s
