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The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2

Page 21

by Patricia Hagan


  Kitty gave an unladylike snort. “Is that the way I’m supposed to be, now that you’ve burned me out? Polite and humble?”

  “Kitty, my men did that. They wanted to rape you, remember? And I stopped that, but I didn’t have anything to do with them burning you out. They did that as an example to other white people who might hold sympathy for the nigger and give the renegades shelter. I’m sorry it happened.”

  “So am I.”

  They stared at each other silently for a few seconds, and then Kitty said, “Well, if that is all you have to say, I would prefer that you leave.”

  “We call ourselves the Ku Klux Klan.” He ignored her remark. “There are groups by the same name spreading all over the South to protect our people. No one knows the identity of the members. If they do, they know better than to expose them.”

  She got up and walked over to the log bin, picked up a piece of wood and tossed it onto the fire. New sparks went dancing up the chimney as the fresh wood crackled beneath the flames. “If you are trying to frighten me, you are wasting your time. I have not told anyone that I know who the ringleader was that night. I want no trouble with the townspeople. I want only to be left alone. When Captain Coltrane comes back, he’ll settle the score with all of you. I won’t have to. But I wish I hadn’t missed that night. Quite frankly, Mr. Jerome Danton”—she turned to glare at him, fists clenched—“I wish I had killed you.”

  “You almost did.” He grinned wryly. He lifted his right leg. “I had just leaped to my horse when you fired. The ball caught me in the bone of my ankle. Had I still been standing on the ground, you would have hit me in the back and probably killed me. As it is, I have a permanent limp. The surgeon said he could not remove the ball. It’s in the bone, so I’m partially crippled.”

  Her expression did not change. “I am sorry you made it to your horse.”

  Pursing his lips, he folded his hands in his lap and stared into the fire thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I heard you were living with Corey McRae as his mistress. What happened that you have resorted to this poverty?”

  “I was never Corey’s mistress,” she shouted. “He took me into his home that night you and your friends burned me out. I was in labor, and he found me not too far from this very shack. My baby was born in his house, and I stayed there for two weeks, then left to come here. I was never his mistress. Who would dare to spread such a lie?”

  “Nancy Stoner,” he laughed shortly. “She said you pushed your way into his life, same as the way you did Nathan Collins’s. She’s something, that Nancy.”

  “She’s a vicious, lying schemer.”

  “Oh, she has her good points. She works for me now, in my dry goods store. True, she has a nagging tongue, and I tire of listening to her, but there are times when she can be, ah, most enjoyable.”

  “I can well imagine, but I prefer not to hear about those times, if you please.”

  “Of course. Gentlemen do not discuss their personal lives, do they? Forgive me. Now, I came here to apologize to you, Kitty, and offer you help.”

  “I don’t need your help. I’ll manage fine, thank you.”

  “Can you pay your taxes?”

  “Don’t worry about my taxes,” she screeched, forgetting once again to keep her voice quiet so as not to wake little John. “My life is no concern of yours.”

  Slowly he got to his feet and moved to where she stood. Before she realized it, he had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her soundly. Releasing her, he laughed down and murmured, “I want your life to be of much concern to me, Kitty. I’ve always found you desirable. I would like permission to court you.”

  She was stunned. He kissed her again, and this time when he released her, she raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and held it tightly. “Don’t. As lovely as I find you, my dear, I won’t stand for a woman slapping me. I would hate to bruise that flawless skin of yours. Now, I know this has come as a surprise, but I am quite sincere. I should like to court you and, after a proper time has passed, I will expect you to marry me. We’ll build a fine, fancy house right here on your land, if you so wish. I have plenty of money, as much, I would say, as Corey McRae. You and your baby will never want for anything, and while I fully intend to breed you often with children of my own, I will do my best to accept your son as mine. I think I have made you a generous offer.”

  He limped over to the burlap bag, and Kitty watched, as if in a trance, as he reached into the bag and started pulling out various foods. A smoked ham, several dozen eggs, some potatoes and dried beans. There was even a new woolen shawl for her and a heavy blanket for John. “This is only the beginning, my dear. I’ll return in a few days, after you’ve had time to think over my generous offer, and I will bring more. Is there anything you particularly need? What about material for dresses? I just received a good shipment from the North.”

  “No.” She shook her head from side to side. “Nothing. I…I don’t want these things. Take them and go, please.” She pressed her hands against her temples.

  “I’ll go for now, sweet, and give you time to get used to the idea of my courting you. Life will be good to you again, you may be sure. If you should need me for anything before I return, just send Jacob for me and I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

  He opened the door and a blast of cold air filled the shack. The fire flickered dangerously low against the onslaught. “One more thing,” he said against the roar of the wind. “Be glad I hold no hard feelings because you left me crippled, woman. But I’ll make you pay for it when I have you in my bed.” With a good-natured laugh, he closed the door tightly behind him.

  Kitty stood for long moments, staring at the closed door, her mind whirling. Then she sat again before the fire. She was rocking the baby when Jacob’s familiar call sounded against the wind. He came in swinging a dead turkey by its feet, crying jubilantly, “We gonna have meat on the table tonight, missy. It took me most of the day to track this old bird down, but I done it. I—” His voice trailed off as he saw her expression. Ordinarily she would have shared his joy. Now it was as though she had not even heard him.

  His eyes went to the burlap bag, still lying on the floor, its contents scattered where Jerome Danton had tossed them. “What’s this, missy? Was Mistah McRae here? He been botherin’ you again? Lord, if he’d just leave you alone.” He shook his head wearily.

  “It wasn’t Corey McRae, Jacob. It was Jerome Danton.”

  “Danton?” The old Negro’s eyes bugged out. “What’d he come here for? How’d he muster up the nerve to come here?” His old body was trembling with anger as he came to the fireplace and bent to stare down into her face. “Missy? What’d he say to make you look like that?”

  “He told me that the taxes are due now on my land,” she answered in a dull voice, her eyes staring straight into the flames. “He told me how desperate I am, and how he wants to court me and eventually marry me. Why do they torment me this way, Jacob? Why can’t they just leave me alone?”

  He sat down cross-legged, propping his elbow on the threadbare knees of his overalls, his hands framing his black face. “Miss Kitty, these men what got money, men like Mistah McRae and Mistah Danton, they wants a wife to be mistress of all they got. You’s a beautiful woman. I bet you’s the most beautiful woman in these parts. I hear the menfolks talking, missy, saying how pretty you are, so don’t you look at me like that and shake yo’ head like you thinks I’m talkin’ foolish. I knows what I’m talkin’ about. And fo’ all of Mistah Danton’s and Mistah McRae’s money, they’d be mighty proud to have a fine-lookin’ woman like you fo’ their wife. That’s why they keep coming around. But don’t you let them worry you none. The captain, he gonna come back. Just you wait and see.”

  Kitty forced a smile. “I have to start thinking of a life without Travis, Jacob. I must stop living in a dream world. There’s not just me to think about now. There’s little John. He has only me to look after him, and I have to consider his welfare first.”
/>   Jacob rocked back. “You ain’t thinkin’ about marryin’ either one of them two, is you?”

  “No, no, of course not. But I do have to start thinking about a life without Travis. I can’t lose my land. I’m going to have to go into town and talk to the tax collector and see just how much I owe and what can be worked out. Maybe I can go to the bank and borrow what I need against next year’s crop. I’m not going to accomplish anything huddling before this fire. Will you stay with John tomorrow while I make a trip into town?”

  “Well, how you think you gonna go? Walk? It’s miles to town, and don’t tell me you gonna stand on the road and wave some farmer down, ’cause soon as they see it’s you, they gonna keep right on goin’.”

  “I’ll get a ride same as you do, Jacob, with your people. Some of the Negroes go into town every day. I’ll just stand at the road till someone comes by. I need to go into town because I’m going by General Schofield’s office and try once again to get a message to Travis by way of General Sherman.”

  “It’s starting to sleet outside. The weather is gettin’ mighty bad. I don’t think you’ll be able to go for a day or two. You’d catch the fever standing out in the sleet, missy, and then how could you look after John if you’s sick in bed? I don’t know much about tendin’ babies.”

  “Then I will wait until the weather clears.” She started rocking to and fro, intensely, as though the energy and spirit were building inside.

  Jacob cleaned the turkey with water boiled in a kettle over the fire, then ran a spit through the bird and watched dutifully as it roasted over the flames. Kitty cooked some of the dried beans. Their dinner was tasty and filling for a change.

  Jacob bundled up in his old frayed jacket and went outside to milk the cow before bedtime. They had housed the animal in one of the empty shacks to keep it from freezing. He returned with only a quarter of a bucket and said, “I guess ol’ Betsy’s just too cold to worry about giving milk.”

  “She isn’t being fed properly,” Kitty commented worriedly. “If I can borrow some money at the bank, I’ll stop by the feed store and get some feed for her. We’ve got to have that milk for John.”

  The wind howled through the long night, and the glass in the windows rattled, even though boards were nailed across on the outside. Kitty thought the roof was even shaking. She could hear the pelts of ice hitting the tin above, and she huddled down in the covers, holding little John against her body for warmth. How she wished she had been able to nurse him. Now her milk was long dried up, and they had to depend on the old cow. She stared into the darkness of the barren room, the fire illuminating the sparse furnishings with an eerie red glow.

  The baby stirred, and she held him tighter, kissed his forehead. It was warm. She prayed it was from the blankets heaped upon them, the heat of her own body. “Don’t let him be sick. Don’t let anything happen to my baby,” she whispered into the darkness. “He’s all I have.”

  And her tears splashed down onto his head, and she kissed them away, feeling more alone and lost than ever before.

  As sleep came, her last whispered murmurings were to Travis. “We need you,” she cried softly. “Dear God, Travis, we need you so badly.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jacob, his face grimacing with disapproval, sat rocking little John before the crackling fire. His yellowed eyes were watching Kitty as she bundled herself up against the stabbing chill that waited beyond the closed door of the cabin. “Miss Kitty, I just don’t think you ought to go. You don’t know how long you gonna have to stand on that road before somebody come along, much less how long it gonna be till somebody comes by what will give you a ride.”

  She was tying a shawl tightly about her head and shoulders, and she peered worriedly at the baby. “I have to try, Jacob. It’s been almost a week since Mr. Danton came, and I’ve got to borrow some money from the bank and see about those taxes. And I’ve also got to have some money to get a doctor out here to look at John. I don’t like the way that cold keeps hanging on. He wakes me at night, breathing so raspy, and you’ve heard him cough. It’s turning into a bad cold, and I know he needs medicine and more knowledge than I have.”

  Jacob sighed, knowing it did no good to argue with his mistress when she had her mind set. He, too, would be very glad to see a doctor walk through that door. Little John was sick. If Nolie were here, he grieved, she would know what to do.

  Ready at last, Kitty walked over to where Jacob sat and bent to kiss the baby’s forehead. “He’s so warm,” she murmured worriedly. “I’ll hurry, Jacob. I’ll try to be back this afternoon. It shouldn’t take me long at the bank or at the tax office, and then I’ll go find a doctor. I’ll pay him to drive me back out in his buggy.”

  “You gonna ask about the captain?” Jacob raised his eyes to meet hers anxiously. “You got another letter ready to send to Gen’ral Sherman?”

  “Yes, to both questions.” Her smile was forced. “Now I really have to leave, Jacob, so I can get back quickly. I’ll stop and buy a few things we need. How is the cow doing? Does she have any feed at all?”

  “Mistah McRae sent some hay over last week—”

  She was almost to the door, but she whipped her head about. “He did what? Jacob, you didn’t say anything to me about it.”

  “I figured you had enough on your mind, what with the baby sick, missy. And I knows how mad you gets whenever Mistah McRae sends anything over.”

  She bit her lip, decided to be on her way rather than discuss the situation. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, opening the door to face the icy blast of wind.

  She had wanted to make her trip the day after Jerome Danton had made his visit, but the weather had taken a decided turn for the worse. Sleet continued to fall, covering the world about them with a thin sheet of ice. It was as though an artist had dipped his brush into liquid crystal, to paint everything about them into shimmering glory. Kitty acknowledged that the scene before her was beautiful, but it was also ominous.

  Stepping carefully among the icy ruts, she looked at the stark, frozen ground, thinking what a dismal sight it actually was. It was as though the earth had never yielded a living growth of any sort, and never would again. She felt as though the whole world were dead, and she the only survivor.

  Finally she reached the edge of the empty, lonely road, and as she stood there waiting, she could feel the cold all the way to her bones. A long time went by, maybe two hours, as she stamped her feet and jumped about, trying to keep her blood warm. At last she heard the welcome clopping sound of hooves breaking against the icy ground, and a carriage came into view. She began to wave frantically, and as it moved closer, she recognized the Frank Thompson family.

  He leaned forward to stare down at her with squinted eyes. “Well, Kitty Wright. What in tarnation are you doing out here in the freezing cold, standing by the side of the road?”

  “I need a ride into town, Mr. Thompson,” Kitty pleaded. “My baby is sick, and I’ve got to find a doctor.”

  Frank’s wife, Adele, stiffened beside him, her hawk nose turning skyward as she snapped, “I’ll not have that white trash ride in our carriage, Frank. Get along now.”

  Frank rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. “Now, Adele, Kitty ain’t never done us no harm, and you heard her say her baby’s sick. What would it hurt for her to ride in the back of the wagon?”

  “Mrs. Thompson, I don’t have a horse or a mule, and I have to get to Goldsboro. Please, just let me ride in the back.” She was begging, for she was not too proud to humble herself when it came to her baby.

  Adele glared at her, the hate and disgust shimmering so strongly that Kitty took a step backward, shocked to see such a look in the woman’s eyes. “You think we’d ride into Goldsboro with the likes of you in our carriage?” she screamed. “Everyone knows what you are, Kitty Wright. Trash! White trash! If your bastard baby is sick, it’s God’s punishment on you for your sins. It wasn’t enough you got a fine man like Nathan Collins killed, then got yourself in t
he family way by the man who murdered him. You had to flaunt your sin by staying here, unmarried, and letting everyone know what you are.”

  Frank touched his wife’s arm, gave her a shake. “Adele, that’s enough.”

  She shook free of his hold. “No, that’s not enough. She had to give refuge to a nigra outlaw, and the Klan burned her out, and she still didn’t learn her lesson. Get along now, Frank. I don’t want to be seen talking to the likes of her.”

  “She helped us once when one of our boys was sick, Adele,” Frank said, his voice sympathetic. “Seems the least we could do is give her a ride into town. It’s awful cold for her to be standing out here this way.”

  Adele’s face had turned red with rage at Frank’s reference to their son. “If she’s so smart with helping the sick, let her help her own,” she shrieked. “As for helping Paul, she only saved him to go off to war and get killed by a Yankee, maybe even by the hand of her traitorous father, or her Yankee lover. I’ll not have it, I say.”

  She jerked the whip from her husband’s hand, catching him off guard. Kitty thought she meant to crack the lash over the horses’ backs to speed them on their way, but, just in time, she realized the woman was about to bring it down on her. Stumbling in her haste to get away, Kitty fell to the ground. She felt the flesh ripping from her palms against the ice, just as the zinging leather whip landed only inches from her face.

  “Woman, have you gone mad?” Frank Thompson was wrestling with his wife, yanking the whip from her roughly. “When we get back home tonight, you got a beatin’ comin’, for sure. The very idea, you taking a whip to that poor girl. You crazy or something?”

  “I’ll not ride with her. I’ll get out of this wagon first. What will my friends think? Nancy Stoner is my third cousin, and she told me how this…this harlot ruined her engagement to Corey McRae. And don’t you threaten me with any beating, Frank Thompson! Now get those horses moving.”

  Kitty picked herself up from the ground with as much dignity as she could muster. Her hands hurt fiercely, and so did her knees. She knew she must have scraped them also on the ice, but she wasn’t about to let either of them know she was injured. Looking into Frank’s eyes, she said coolly and evenly, “Thank you for your concern, but you had best ride on. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

 

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