Chapter Nine
The morning sun spilled through a wide crack in the boarded windows. Kitty stretched and yawned, wishing she could take a hot bath and put on clean clothes. During the war there had been nights when she was forced to sleep on the cold, hard ground, without even a blanket. There had been beds of pine needles, straw, mossy river banks. Her body had grown used to discomfort.
Suddenly she sat upright, gathering the blanket about her even though she was fully dressed. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, watching as Corey McRae puttered around the wood stove. It all came flooding back, and now anger was boiling through her veins as rapidly as the coffee brewing on the stove.
“I thought you might want something to eat this morning,” her captor host said with a smile as he walked across the plank floor to hand her a tin cup of steaming brew. Gratefully, she took it and sipped cautiously lest she bum her lips.
“This is real coffee,” she cried, astonished. “I haven’t tasted real coffee since the war began. How did you come by it?”
“I have ways.” He poured a cup for himself, then sat down in a rickety chair near her cot. “I like the luxuries of life, Kitty, and I make sure that I acquire as many as I desire. Right now, I have a fierce desire for you. Shall we talk about what to do with you, or do you want to finish your coffee and have a chance to fully awaken? Marriage is not a subject to be discussed lightly, my dear.”
She jerked herself to a sitting position on the side of the cot and faced him with blazing eyes. “Marriage is not a subject I care to discuss with you at all, sir. I don’t care how much money you’ve got or how much power. I happen to be in love with someone else, and I plan to marry him the minute he returns. I’m afraid I just don’t understand you. Why would you ever contemplate taking a wife who carries the child of another man?”
“Many reasons.” He took a long sip of coffee, set it aside as he pulled out an expensive-looking cigar and lit it. “I told you last night, Kitty, that I know all about you. I know everything about everyone in this wretched county.”
She blinked, confused. “But why? You are from another state, and you say you deal in real estate. Why does Wayne County concern you so? Why are you so interested in me? True, I appreciate your coming to my rescue last night, and I am grateful for your hospitality, but that is as far as it goes. I plan to take my leave this morning.”
His lips smiled but his eyes glowered with anger. “You are not going anywhere, Kitty. I not only deal in real estate, I deal in people, when it behooves me to do so. I possess them as easily as I possess the land I purchase. As for my interest in Wayne County, I feel I should know everything about everyone here since I plan to own the whole countryside.”
“Own it?”
“Yes. Haven’t you heard? The South is destitute. Your Confederate money is worthless. How do you plan to pay the taxes on the property you inherit from your father? How do any of your neighbors plan to pay their taxes? They won’t be able to, but I can buy their land, and yours, for the taxes owed.”
Kitty leaped to her feet, coffee cup clattering to the floor. “You can’t do that. It’s…it’s horrible to even think about. These people will find a way to come back and make a living from their lands. For you to even think of doing such a thing is horrible. You’re a vulture, Mr. McRae, hovering over a dying land, hoping nothing will survive so you can swoop down and pick the meat from the bones.”
She began to pace up and down the room, wringing her hands nervously. She hadn’t thought about the taxes on the Wright land. The thought had not occurred to her. She had been too preoccupied with work at the hospital, worrying about Travis, the baby she was carrying. She had never thought about property taxes!
“Marry me, Kitty,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper, “and I will pay your taxes for you and see that you retain title to your land. I will not take it away from you.”
Whirling about, she glared at him in astonishment. “Why do you want to marry me? You know I don’t love you. We’ve been all through this. You just won’t listen, will you?”
“With proper dress and care, you can once again be the fairest woman in the county. Corey McRae must have a wife who is the most beautiful to be found. Corey McRae must be the envy of every man about.”
“Corey McRae rambles on like a soldier with a fever,” she snapped. “I think I am in the hands of a madman.”
He laughed. “God, I love your spirit. That, in addition to your beauty, is why I must have you for my wife, Kitty. I will be the most hated man in this county when I acquire vast holdings of land. But I will also be the most respected. I want to give balls, parties, have a gala social life. I don’t want to live the ostracized life of a despised land baron. With you as my wife, my dreams can all come true.”
“You are mad. These people already hate me. You know that. If you want a wife others will respect, go marry that snotty little Nancy Warren Stoner. Everyone is fooled by her and thinks she is sweet and gentle. I know what a little liar and conniver she is. I’d say the two of you would be a perfect match.”
“Nancy Warren Stoner has already let me know she is available. And it does not bother me how the people feel about you, Kitty, because they won’t dare say a word against you once you are my wife. They will bow and scrape. You will be the most powerful social leader in the state.”
She shook her head. “It’s absurd. I won’t marry you. If Nancy has made it obvious she would like to be your wife, I suggest you propose to her.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I have already had her in my bed, Kitty. She’s cold and tasteless. She cannot hope to match your beauty or your spirit. No, my dear, it is you I must have, and you I will have. What other choice do you have? Your Captain Coltrane is not coming back, or he would have returned by now. The war is over. He could have written to you, at least. You have no money, not even a fit pair of shoes. And you carry a child. Where will you go?”
Pressing her fingertips against throbbing temples, she whispered, “I don’t know. God, I don’t know. I just wish you would leave me alone so I can think.”
He stood up, walked to where she was pacing, and pulled her unyielding body into his arms. Kissing her cheeks tenderly, he said, “I’m going to buy you some clothes. Then I will have you brought to the hotel where I will reserve a room for you. You can soak in a hot tub of scented water. Dine on the delicious food I will have sent to your room. Take an afternoon nap, then dress in one of the exquisite gowns I will buy for you. Then, tonight, I will take you to the hotel ballroom for dinner and let everyone know that Corey McRae has chosen his queen.”
He left her standing there, dazed. Was the man insane? She didn’t know. She just knew that she wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. But how? Tiptoeing to the door, she turned the handle. It opened easily and she stepped into the front room. The boards squeaked as she walked across them to the front door. Peering out through a crack, she cursed silently at the sight of the guard leaning against the porch post.
She returned to the back room. There was a window, boarded over. She peered through a crack, and her fingertips happened to touch a loose board. It swung outward with a slight squeaking sound, and she tensed, expecting a guard to come running. She waited a moment longer, then pushed the board outward. Then she shoved at the next one, and the rotten wood popped and fell to the ground. Again she froze, waiting fearfully. She could see that there was an alley, with no one about. The drop to the ground was not a great distance. If she could push out the rest of the boards, she could hoist herself to the sill, drop down and escape. Where she would go was something she could not think about at the moment. The immediate need was to escape Corey McRae.
The other boards were not rotten and they held tight as she pushed against them desperately. The two that were out did not leave an opening large enough through which she could escape. It was no use.
A clattering sound made her jump and peer out the window. Had a guard seen her futile attempt? No,
it was an old Negro, moving down the alley, picking food scraps from the trash barrels just as she had done the night before. He was bent and stooped with age, a straw hat shielding his head from the sun that was already scorching the ground.
He wore patched overalls, no shirt, and his feet were bare. She wondered how Jacob was faring. Was he starving and picking food from trash barrels, too?
Jacob! That was it! She strained to poke her head through the opening and made a hissing sound. The old Negro glanced up, frightened. He turned and started to run away, figuring he was about to be chastised for stealing from the barrels, but Kitty called out as loudly as she dared, “Please! Don’t go. I’m a friend of old Jacob’s, and I need help.”
Warily, he slowed and turned to stare at her suspiciously. “What you say? You say you is a friend of Jacob’s?”
“Yes, yes, my name is Kitty Wright,” she said anxiously. “Jacob used to live on my father’s farm. My father was John Wright.”
At the mention of the name, the Negro’s eyes widened in recognition. “Yes’m. Yes’m.” Tipping his straw hat to her, he smiled. “I knows who you is now. What you want?”
He moved closer, and she whispered, unable to keep the desperation from her voice. “Tell him that a man named McRae is holding me a prisoner in the old feed store, and he has to help me get out through this window. As quickly as possible. Tell him he must be careful because there are guards posted about. We can’t wait till night. He must come right now. Hurry, please.”
The old Negro took off running down the alley as fast as his old bones would carry him. Sinking back down on the cot, Kitty prayed he would find Jacob in time. Jacob and his people would hide her. They were the only ones in the county she could trust. If only he got back in time…
She poured another cup of coffee, gulped it down, and then she began to pace the floor. An hour passed. How long would it take the old Negro to find Jacob? What if he were way out in the county some place? Oh, God, Corey could return at any moment to take her to the hotel.
She jumped at a sound. “Miss Kitty? Miss Kitty? You in there?” Joyfully, she recognized Jacob’s whispered call.
Running to the window, she poked her head out and said, “There’s no time to explain everything now, Jacob. Just get me out of here quickly, please. And do be careful. Corey McRae has guards stationed about.”
“I know. I seen ’em.” He was already prying at the other boards with an iron bar. “I’ll have you out of here fast, Miss Kitty. I know all about that Mr. McRae. Everybody knows ’bout him. Just don’t you fret. I’ll have you out of here and take you to my people. We got us a hideout.”
The board popped out, then another. Kitty was slithering through the narrow opening into Jacob’s waiting arms. When her bare feet touched the ground, she felt the heat from the parched soil and wished she had taken time to slip on the boots, uncomfortable though they were. It was too late for that, though, and with Jacob holding her hand, they ran together down the alley.
There was a rickety old wagon waiting at the end. She recognized Jacob’s two sons as they glanced about nervously. One sat in the wagon, holding the reins of a tired-looking mule. The other stood behind, ready to hoist her up and help her cover herself with straw. “Just you lay still,” Jacob ordered. “We’ll have you out of here quick-like.”
Despite the straw tickling her nostrils and poking into her exposed flesh, Kitty sighed with relief. She had escaped Corey McRae, and the thought of his anger when he discovered she was gone made her want to giggle. Used to getting his own way, was he? Well, he had not reckoned with her.
It seemed like hours before the wagon finally jolted to a stop. Instantly, Jacob and his two sons were knocking hay from on top of her, helping her up and onto her feet. “You okay, Miss Kitty?” the old Negro asked anxiously. “The ride didn’t hurt you none?”
“I’m fine, now that I’m out of the clutches of that man. Just who is he, anyway, Jacob? Have you heard anything about him at all?” She dusted bits of straw from her dress and glanced at her surroundings. They were in the swamps, and she could see little makeshift huts here and there. A dozen or so Negroes moved about, staring curiously at their white visitor.
“I heered about him all right,” Jacob snapped bitterly. “He’s goin’ around buyin’ up land dirt cheap, for the taxes. Southern money ain’t no good no more, you know, and this Mistah McRae, he got plenty of Yankee money. He even bought Mistah Aaron Collins’ place. All of it.”
“Yeah.” Kitty turned to see a boy of fourteen or fifteen. “And Miss Nancy Warren is a chasin’ after Mistah McRae, too. I reckon she figured if she couldn’t get in that fine house by a’marrying Mistah Nathan, she’d get in there by marryin’ up with the new owner.”
“Luther, you watch that sassy mouth of yours,” Jacob thundered. “You got no call to go talkin’ about no white woman that way.”
Kitty blinked, surprised. “This is Luther? Oh, Luther, you were just a tiny thing when I saw you last. Now you’re almost grown.”
She gave him a hug and he twisted away, embarrassed. “That was a long time ago, Miss Kitty. I is grown up now.”
“You ain’t too big to be taken down a notch or two, boy,” his father scolded him. “Now go get Miss Kitty some cool spring water, and tell Nolie to fix her a place where she can lie down in the shade. That ride didn’t do her no good.”
He lowered his eyes, realizing that he had made reference to Kitty’s condition, and she smiled and told him not to worry. “Everyone in the whole town knows by now, I guess. I am carrying a baby, Jacob. Travis Coltrane’s baby. I was asked to leave the hospital yesterday, and I have no place to go.”
“You got a home now, Miss Kitty. Long as you want one. We ain’t got much here. Just a bunch of us nigras joinin’ together to try and find some peace. We don’t want no part of the Yankees, and the Southern folks hate most of my people ’cause they is free now. They want to see us starve. But we gonna show ’em. We waitin’ to get our mules and our land, and then we gonna farm and make a good livin’ off our land. We’ll show ’em we don’t need to work for white folks to keep from starvin’. We’ll make it, workin’ for ourselves.”
He had led her to a cool, mossy bank beneath a spreading pecan tree. She sat down, weary in mind and body. “I was almost attacked twice last night,” she said drily. “The second time, Corey McRae saved me. But once he got me inside that old feed store, he wouldn’t let me leave. Says he wants to marry me, of all things. Oh, Jacob, Jacob, whatever am I going to do? I can go to Dr. Holt in Raleigh, and stay with his family till the baby is born, but what if Travis comes back? Oh, I’ve said it again.” She shook her head.
“Said what again, Miss Kitty?”
“I said ‘if’ instead of ‘when’. I’ve got to stop letting myself think of the possibility that Travis won’t come back. He must be hurt, Jacob. I know he would come to me if he could. He loves me.”
“Yes’m.” He lowered his eyes. It wasn’t his place to voice an opinion. It was no concern of his. All he wanted was to help the daughter of the man he had loved and respected. “You know you’re welcome to stay here, Miss Kitty. Mr. McRae won’t find you here. Nobody knows these swamps like we do. He won’t even suspect you of comin’ to live with us nigras.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Then I will stay here, Jacob, and I’ll be mighty obliged to you for letting me. Your sons and your people can keep their ears open when they go into town, and when Travis comes looking for me, they’ll hear about it and let me know. The baby is due around Christmas as best I can figure. Surely we’ll hear something before then. Travis won’t desert me.”
“Yes’m.” Again he lowered his eyes. He doubted that the Yankee soldier would ever return, but he sure wasn’t going to tell her that. She had to have hope to see her through the long months of struggle that lay ahead.
A plump black woman appeared. She wore a faded but clean gingham dress, a white apron tied about her waist. A bright bandanna covered her h
ead, and she smiled to show sparkling white teeth. She handed Kitty a tin of cool water. “I’m Nolie,” she introduced herself. “You don’t remember me. I used to be a cook for Mr. Aaron. I was at the barbecue the day you poured that pitcher of water on Miss Nancy’s head.” She laughed, her large belly jiggling.
“I was also there when you took that whip away from Luke Tate. I didn’t actually see it, mind you, but I heard the commotion and went a’running from the house like all the other help. I seen him yank that whip out of your hand and take you into that house. Then I seen Mr. Nathan come a’running…”
Kitty had closed her eyes, body swaying to and fro in painful remembrance. It all flashed before her as though it were happening again. She had become angry at the party, incensed over Nancy Warren’s constant needling. Finally she lost the temper she found so hard to control and dumped a pitcher of water on the girl’s head. Then she had started for home, preparing to walk. Hearing the sound of leather slashing into flesh and a woman’s anguished screams, Kitty stumbled through the brush to the slave quarters to find the Collins’ overseer, Luke Tate, beating a pregnant slave girl.
Kitty ran forward, yanked the whip out of the astonished man’s hand and let him have a taste of his own torture, but she was no match for his strength. When he recovered the whip, he had picked her up and dragged her into one of the slave houses, ripping her dress, exposing her breasts. Nathan charged in and took the whip from Luke and gave him a sound beating before ordering him off the property.
Then Nathan had turned on Kitty, admonishing her for interfering. It hadn’t mattered that the slave girl was pregnant. Nathan was a strong believer in social “appearances”, and he was embarrassed that Kitty had intervened on behalf of a lowly slave.
All of that had led up to her father’s brutal beating by the vigilantes. She shook her head from side to side, trying to blot out the memories.
“You got a big mouth, Nolie,” Jacob was scolding the woman. “See? You done got her all upset, making her remember them bad times. They’s over and done with now. We can’t help what’s happened in the past. We got to look to the future, so you hush up making Miss Kitty think about them bad times.”
The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 Page 10
