Hiwassee by Charles F. Price

Author:Charles F. Price
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 1996-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Book Three

The Return

Chapter Nine

1

Bridgeman withdrew up the Ocoee and hid out on Frog Mountain. The first day or so he was in a hopeful mood in spite of what had happened to him at Cleveland. He reasoned that if the whole Rebel army was headed south into Georgia after Rosecrans, then he could lay low till the tail of it passed him by. Then he could safely move up to General Burnside at Knoxville. Or it might be that Burnside would be coming down from there himself, following on the heels of the Rebels, and Bridgeman could meet him on the road.

Either way, Bridgeman believed he could have an interview with Burnside and show how he had succeeded where Goldman Bryson had failed in the business of supporting loyalism and meting out punishment to the secesh in the North Carolina high country. Admittedly Bridgeman had only six of the Yellow Jackets left. But that was six more than had returned from Bryson’s expedition. Surely this was evidence of Bridgeman’s superior skill and heroism. He thought he could convince Burnside to reward him with a regular commission now.

At first he thought of taking his next raid into Madison, Yancey or Mitchell, in hopes that district hadn’t been picked over as bad as Clay and Cherokee, and because the Thomas Legion generally didn’t patrol that far east. But then, the more he pondered it, the worse he wanted to go back into Clay. There was still the Quillen treasure he had missed. And there was also the matter of old Judge Curtis, which had come to be like a bone stuck crosswise in his throat.

Ever since leaving the Judge’s place unburnt, Bridgeman had had the feeling he was jinxed. No sooner had he showed clemency to Old Man Curtis than a spate of evil luck had befallen the Yellow Jackets—first the Puckett ambush, next the Quillens making off with their cache of goods, then in quick succession the attacks by the Qualla redskins, Vaughn’s cavalry, and now these Rebs at Cleveland. Bridgeman came to believe he’d made a mistake at Curtis’s. He thought he should go back and rectify it, else his run of bad fortune might continue. It was true that the old fellow had once done him a kindly turn, but that was a long time ago and Bridgeman had paid him back by leaving his fine home untouched and allowing himself to be deflected off to the Pucketts and the Quillens. He and the judge were quits now. And he had given Curtis fair warning that if he came through the Hiwassee valley again, things would be different. He could burn the old aristocrat out with a clear conscience next time.

But by the third day after Cleveland, Bridgeman had come down with a bad cold and sore throat, and the sicker he got, the more his spirits sank. Now it seemed to him that he had failed so badly that Burnside would laugh him out of camp. He had left Cosby with fifty men, and now all but half a dozen were gone.

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