The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2

by Patricia Hagan

  Just as she was about to start upstairs, Corey suddenly reached out to pull her into his arms, his lips pressing down on her. She forced herself to return the kiss. When at last he released her, he smiled, eyes glazed with his passion. “I’ll be counting the minutes, my darling. I want you so desperately. Kitty, I know you think me a power-mad fool, and I know you still harbor resentment for the way I connived to make you marry me. But in my own way, I do love you.”

  He kissed her again briefly. Then, adjusting his coat, smoothing his hair, he turned and walked swiftly toward the library.

  Rance was standing in the upstairs hall, and he gave her a yellow-toothed grin. “Boss told me to lock you back in, Kitty. I imagine he’ll be along soon, though. Bet you can’t hardly wait.”

  “I want to say good night to my baby.”

  He shrugged. “Just make it fast. The boss still don’t want you wandering around a whole lot, you know. Don’t none of us quite trust you after that scene at the party.”

  Oh, how she wanted to hurl something insulting in reply, but now was not the time. She went to the nursery door, entered and closed it behind her. Dulcie was leaning over John’s cradle, and she looked up with fearful eyes. “Is everything all right?” she whispered anxiously.

  “I hope so. Do you have his things ready?”

  “Yes’m. They’re over yonder behind the drapes, just like you told me.”

  “Good.” She bent and kissed the sleeping baby, crooning to him so quietly that even Dulcie could not make out the words.

  Soon they would be happy.

  “Miss Kitty, there’s two men down there with Mistah McRae,” Dulcie said worriedly, fear etched in her expression. “Addie say all three of them might drink that brandy and pass out together. And what if one of them don’t? What if he drinks from another bottle, and he’s still awake and the others pass out, and he yells about it? It’s going to ruin everything.”

  “I’ve thought about that.” Kitty chewed her lower lip. “I hope Addie had the good sense to offer them brandy while they were waiting.”

  “Yes, she did, and she said they took it, and she was smart enough to give them a drink from a bottle what wasn’t poisoned, so they wouldn’t pass out before Mistah McRae got in there. She hid the first bottle, figuring by the time Mistah McRae went in, they’d be ready for another drink, and he’d pour it from the poisoned bottle.”

  “Dulcie, it is not poison,” Kitty hissed. “I put laudanum in that bottle…opium…do you understand? I put enough in it that after two drinks, they’re going to pass out. Now stop using that word ‘poison’. It sounds so vicious.”

  Kitty turned toward the door to return to her room, but Dulcie called out to her. She turned, saw the tears streaming down the chocolate-colored skin and was moved. “Good luck, Miss Kitty. God bless us both, Miss Kitty…”

  “Thank you,” Kitty murmured, blinking back her own tears. If it weren’t for Dulcie and the other Negroes, there would never have been a way to escape. She hoped someday she could repay them.

  Rance was leaning against the open door to her bedroom, picking his teeth with a knife. “It’s a shame the boss is back. Me and you, we get along real good, don’t we?”

  “Yes, yes, we do.” Kitty lowered her lashes demurely, missing the surprise in his eyes.

  She moved by him, deliberately brushing her breasts against his arm, felt the quick intake of his breath. It would be no problem coaxing him inside. She had no worries about that.

  She sat on the side of the bed, hands clasped together tightly. She wanted to pace up and down the room to pass the time. It was difficult to remain still. But if Rance heard any sounds of anxiety, he might become suspicious. The minutes passed with agonizing slowness. A half hour—she would wait half an hour. Hugo should be asleep by then, as well as Corey and his friends. Addie would place the lantern on the steps at the back of the house; Luther would have the signal to make his move.

  Finally, eyes riveted on the mantel clock, Kitty took a deep breath and stood up. The time had come. It was now or never. She went to the fireplace and picked up the log she had laid aside for the purpose of knocking Rance unconscious. It would have to be a good blow. If she did not hit him hard enough, there would not be a second chance.

  Rumpling the covers all the way down to the foot of the bed, she tucked the log beneath. Then she walked quietly to the door and made her voice low and husky. “Rance? Rance, may I speak with you a moment?”

  “Sure.” He spoke pleasantly, almost anxiously. The key turned, and the door opened. They faced each other. Her smile was inviting.

  “I’m afraid my husband has been detained with his friends. I suppose they got to drinking and he just forgot all about me.” She gave a mock pout, then gestured about the empty room. “It…it’s rather lonesome in here. Do you suppose you could keep me company?”

  He was almost gasping. “Kitty, I’d sure like to, but what if the boss comes upstairs? I mean, if he caught me in here, he’d kill me.”

  “Couldn’t you step out on the veranda and ask the guard to throw a pebble against the window when Corey’s friends leave? That would give you ample time to get back into the hallway while Corey is saying good night.”

  She moved closer, once again brushing her breasts against him. That was all the persuasion he needed. Licking his lips hungrily, he all but ran across the room, shoving open the doors. She watched with satisfaction as he leaned over the wooden railing and called down in a low voice, “Bart. Hey, Bart. How about throwing a stone against the window when the boss lets his friends out the front door?”

  She could not hear the man’s response, but he obviously asked what was going on because Rance snapped, “None of your goddamned business. Just do what I tell you.”

  He stepped back inside, smiling broadly. “Kitty, I knew you was hungering for a real man, and you got one now. I’m gonna give it to you like you ain’t never had it before.”

  “I know,” she whispered, backing toward the bed, lowering herself invitingly. She held open her arms. “Come show me. Now.”

  He was unfastening his pants, yanking them down. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of his nakedness even in the dim glow of the lantern. She felt him shoving up her dress, his breath coming in rasping gasps. “It won’t be as good this time, Kitty, honey. We ain’t got long. I’ll arrange it next time, though, so we can really be together for a while. I’ll make it good, I promise…”

  Her hand was snaking slowly along the sheets toward the pile of bed covers.

  She felt for the log, fingers closing about it. She brought her weapon down, hitting him soundly on the back of his head. Instantly, he slumped into unconsciousness.

  Quickly she shoved his repulsive body off her, leaped to her feet, and adjusted her clothing. Without so much as a glance, she left him there and hurried out of the room, across the hall and into the nursery. John was sleeping peacefully. Wrapping the blankets tightly about him, she lifted him in her arms, cradling him against her bosom as she seized the bundle Dulcie had left behind the drapes. Then she made her way swiftly down the hall, down the stairs, her footsteps and ragged breathing the only sound echoing in the deathly silent house.

  Please let everything be taken care of, she prayed anxiously, heart pounding so loudly she feared it would awaken John. Luther has to be waiting right outside. Everything has to have gone according to plan.

  Pausing outside the closed library doors, she strained for any sound. All was silent. She fought the impulse to run the rest of the way as she forced herself to tiptoe past, moving toward the front door.

  Her hand was on the knob, but suddenly the door flew open. Her lips parted to scream, and then she recognized Luther’s face, anxious, excited, smiling triumphantly. He took the bundle from beneath her arm, allowing her to hold the baby tighter. Guiding her out onto the porch with his free hand, he whispered, “Everything is all right. It’s all taken care of. I’ve got horses waiting down the drive a piece, and my men and
I will take you into town on a back road.”

  She waited till they were away from the house, and then she burst into tears of joy. “Thank you, Luther. Thank you and God bless you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I had somebody find out where Coltrane spends most of his time, when he ain’t working—one of the saloons. All I can do is take you as close to that place as I think is safe for me and my men. Then you’re on your own, Miss Kitty. I wants to help you all I can, but I got my own hide to look after. If I’m seen in town, my neck will be stretched from the tallest tree they can find by sunrise. I wish I could stay and see it through, but you got to know how it is with me.”

  She agreed, grateful for everything he had done and not about to ask for further help. Once in town, she felt sure she could handle the situation herself.

  They reached the pecan grove, and Kitty saw eight Negroes already mounted on their horses. Luther took her arm and walked her quickly toward a mount and, motioning to the baby in her arms, asked worriedly, “You think you can ride and hold on to that, too?”

  “Yes, I’m an expert rider, Luther. I can manage. I know you’re anxious to get there and be on your way, and I’ll ride as fast as I can.”

  “Good.” He took John from her arms and held him while she swung up into the saddle. Then she reached down and took the still-sleeping infant. Luther got on his horse, then motioned toward his men and cried, “Let’s go.

  They rode through the night, cantering the horses at a speed Kitty found awkward. But she managed to keep up. Once John awoke and began to cry. She held him tighter, crooned to him over the sounds of the horses’ thundering hooves. Mercifully, he closed his eyes after a while.

  The night was dark. A cool spring wind whipped about her face. The road was rough, unfamiliar. The Negroes had been forced to make their own back paths, and she was caught up in a world of thick, shadowy trees. Several times a low branch would slap against her and she would fight to remain in the saddle, holding the reins with one hand, her baby with the other.

  They did not take the old wooden bridge into Goldsboro. Luther knew of a shallow crossing in the Neuse River where they waded the horses through the dark, flowing waters. When they had worked their way up the steep bank on the other side, the road fanned out a bit, and Kitty did not feel quite so smothered.

  Finally the town loomed ahead. At the edge of the woods Luther stopped his men, then rode back to where Kitty had reined her horse in. “I’ve got to leave my men here. I’ll take you the rest of the way. Stay close and move slow.”

  When they reached a dark alley behind a row of buildings, Luther said anxiously, “Okay, Miss Kitty. This is as far as I go, and I got to get out of here fast. I’ll take your horse. Hate to do it, but we needs all the horses we got. Had to steal these. You go down that alley, and when you get to the third building, there’ll be a man waiting for you. He’s supposed to have found out exactly where Coltrane is right now. He’ll hold the baby for you while you go in, if you wants him to. He ain’t no part of us, so nobody will suspect him of anything. His name’s Willy Joe, and you can trust him. I told him to do what you wanted or I’d cut his throat. I hope everything turns out all right for you. And if you ever need me again, I’ll do what I can.”

  She got down from the horse. “Luther, I can’t thank you enough. But how will I be able to get in touch with you?”

  “I know everything that goes on. I got folks keeping me up on things. You run along now.”

  He turned swiftly, disappearing into the night.

  Shivering with the night chill and the creeping fear that moved over her body, Kitty made her way down the alley. She had not gone far when a shadowy figure loomed up from behind a trash barrel. Her throat constricted with terror. The voice drawled, “Don’t be scairt, ma’am. I’s Willy Joe.”

  “Thank God,” she murmured.

  He quickly told her that he had peeked in a window and watched Marshal Coltrane off and on for the past few hours. “I got a friend who works in there, cleans up and all. I got him to follow the marshal when he went upstairs. He’s in room twelve. You can go through the back door and up the steps to the side. They’s carryin’ on something fierce out front—piano a’goin’ and folks a’singin’. Nobody gonna see you, I hope. You want me to take that baby and keep him for you while you go up?”

  “No. I’ll take him with me.” She did not dare part with John. What if someone came along and questioned a black man holding a white baby in the alley behind a saloon? And she wanted Travis to see his son, the sooner the better.

  “Then I’ll be getting along.” He sounded relieved.

  She thanked him for his help, then watched him scurry away. As she turned toward the rear door of the saloon, the sound of raucous music and laughter reached her ears. The moment of reckoning had come. Taking a deep breath, pausing to kiss little John on his forehead, she opened the door and stepped inside.

  The hallway was dark, illuminated only by the lanterns that glowed through the archway leading to the saloon. She could see men laughing and drinking, women dressed in bright, flashy colors. They sat in men’s laps, on the bar, on tables, skirts hiked up above their knees to display shapely legs. Their breasts were almost completely bare. Many of the women were adorned with feathers, some even had them tucked into their hair. Even from where she stood, she could see their brightly painted lips. This was where Travis spent his time? She shuddered.

  The hallway had only one lantern, at the far end, but she could make out the numbers on the door. Her heart was thundering as she saw 12. Now. Balancing the baby in the crook of her left arm, she knocked softly.

  There was no sound from the other side, and she felt a wave of panic begin to wash over her. What if Willy Joe had been wrong? She knocked a second time, louder.

  “Yeah, who is it?”

  She trembled at the sound of the dear, familiar voice.

  She knocked again, so loudly she feared someone in another room might hear.

  She heard him swearing, the shuffling of feet. Then the door flew open, and she found herself staring down the barrel of a pointed gun. “What the hell is it,” he snarled angrily, then lowered the gun as his face became a mask of shock and bewilderment.

  “Travis, I have to talk to you. Please…” Catching him off guard, Kitty shoved past him and into the room.

  And then she saw her—lying naked upon the bed—Nancy Warren Danton.

  “What are you doing here?” Travis was quickly regaining his composure and his anger. “Get out of here, Kitty.”

  “What are you doing here?” Kitty ignored him and addressed herself to Nancy, who was staring back at her insolently, making no move to cover herself.

  A loud buzzing began in her ears, and her whole body began to tremble with a mixture of shock and anguish. Nancy, here, naked, in bed with Travis.

  “I might ask you the same thing.” Nancy sat up in bed.

  “I have every right to be here,” Kitty snapped. “I brought my son to his father—”

  “Oh, Kitty, are you still trying to pass that kid off as Travis’s? Everyone in town knows the truth. Goodness knows you worked hard enough to trap Corey into marrying you. The least you could do is be faithful to him.” Nancy’s hair hung loose and wild about her face, and she gave it a toss. “You know, that’s a rotten trick, even for you, taking Corey’s kid arid telling another guy it’s his. What do you want from Travis, anyway? Corey’s given you the world and everything in it.”

  Kitty kept her voice even. “I’m telling the truth when I say this is Travis’s son! You have spread your lies, just as you did about Nathan’s death. The only reason you haven’t turned the town against Travis and had him shot in the back is because you saw a chance to use him to hurt me. Tell me, Nancy, where does Jerome think you are tonight?”

  Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your damned business.”

  “All right, you two, that’s enough.” Travis stepped for
ward, grabbing Kitty’s arm. “Take that baby and get out of here, woman. I made it clear the other night I want no part of you and your scheming. I don’t know what you’re after now, but you aren’t going to get me involved.”

  “No, I’m not leaving. Nancy is leaving, because you and I are going to talk, alone. And if she doesn’t leave, then I’m going to run down those steps, screaming at the top of my lungs that Jerome Danton’s wife is up here naked in bed with the marshal. Do either of you want that? I think not. Nancy, you have exactly one minute to get your clothes on and get out of here.”

  Nancy looked to Travis, her face red, body trembling in rage. He scratched at his beard thoughtfully, realizing Kitty was not one to make false threats. “Do as she said, Nancy. I’ll hear her out and be done with her. She wants a big scene, so she’ll get it, but we don’t want trouble with your husband. So go.”

  Nancy dressed quickly, but as she reached the door she turned and gave Kitty one final, hating glare. “I’ll fix you for this, you little bitch. I’ll fix you for all time.”

  With the door closed, Travis turned to Kitty and sighed wearily. “All right. Say what you’ve come to say and then get the hell out of here.”

  “Travis, there is so much to say.” She blinked back tears, fighting back the emotions quivering from the depths of her soul. How she had longed for this moment, prayed for it. Now it was here. But she had wanted him to look upon her with love and longing, not loathing.

  She pulled the blankets back from their son. “Look at him,” she said tenderly. “Travis, look at him. Is this the son of Corey McRae? I see you every time I look at him. If he were awake, if you could see the way his eyes are turning from baby blue to the color of your own, you would know. You should know in your own heart. Doesn’t it stir something within you to gaze upon your own son? He was born in December, Travis. December! Think back to those last precious hours we had together at the end of March, just before you left. He was conceived then. You left your seed in my body. This is the product of that seed. I didn’t even know Corey McRae at that time. I was fired from the hospital because everyone knew I was carrying your child, and Nancy had everyone hating both of us because of the lies she told. I had no place to go.”