The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (21 page)

“Take your damned stove.” Kitty’s eyes were stinging with tears of anger and humiliation. “I want nothing of yours. You came here like all the rest, wanting to see me fail, to grovel at your feet. That day will never come, sir. I will die first.”

“And your baby? What of your baby? Your captain is not coming back. Really, I don’t see how you can continue to be so obstinate, Miss Wright. You are living in a dream world, like so many other foolish Southerners.”

Kitty pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. Would he never leave?

“I bid you good day.” Jerome Danton was at the back door, pushing it open to step out into the late fall sunshine. “If you come to your senses, you know where to find me.”

The door closed. She was alone with Jacob. The silence seemed to scream about them from the thin walls of the little house. Finally Jacob whispered, “It’s gonna be all right, missy. You’ll see. The Lord gonna look after you and your baby, even if Mr. Travis don’t come back.”

Any other time, she would have screamed. Lifting her face to Jacob, she forced a tight smile. “If Captain Coltrane does not return, Jacob, we will survive. Now, you go to Nolie and tell her that the next time Gideon comes here that I want her to warn him that it is no longer safe. This Danton fellow may have people watching. And please, have her tell Gideon not to bring me any more gifts. I do not want stolen goods, no matter how desperately I might need what he brings me. I have worries enough.”

“Yes’m.” He set the bag of herbs on the table and backed out the door.

Kitty finished making her tea, then lowered her heavy, swollen body into a crudely made chair. Things would get better, she promised herself and her unborn child.

Then she bowed her head into her folded arms, her body shaking. But she refused to let the tears flow.

Chapter Fourteen

Autumn yielded to winter. Kitty spent her days before the fireplace, which Jacob kept stoked. She whiled away the long, lonely hours making tiny garments for the baby, trying not to think what the future would be like if Travis did not return.

Corey McRae continued to send invitations to visit him at his mansion. Each message was thrown into the fire without the courtesy of a polite refusal.

It was late. A bitter wind howled outside, causing the thin plank boards of the little house to tremble. Kitty had fallen asleep in her rocking chair, her head nodding over the tiny gown she was stitching. Suddenly, her head jerked up as a chilling spasm shook her. It was freezing, she realized with a start, and she saw at once that the fire had burned down to ashes. Where was Jacob? How late was it? He never retired for the night without first making sure that her fire was stoked with enough logs to last till morning. Perhaps he was sick. If it were not so cold, and if she were not so big, she would take the lantern and walk to his cabin and see about him. But Nolie was there. If he were ill, Nolie would take care of him.

Suddenly she snapped to attention. Horses. Many horses. Hooves thundering and crunching upon the frozen ground. Riders were going by, fast. Pulling herself up, she began to grope in the darkness for the wooden shoes Jacob had so skillfully carved. Who would be coming here in the middle of the night? She had told Jacob that Gideon was not to come here again, that it was no longer safe.

Terror closed an icy fist about her heart as the sound of gunfire split the silence. Stumbling, she made her way to the back door. Flinging it open, she could see torches casting eerie, ghostly shadows among the woods. And what were those white things floating about? It looked as if ghosts were back there. But those were not ghosts screaming. That was Nolie shrieking. And those curses and yells were being made by men, many men.

Another shot rang out. She moved as quickly as her bulk would allow, and she was almost down the steps when she heard Jacob’s pleading screams. Turning around, she reentered the house to find her father’s gun. Then she once more made her way outside, her feet touching the frozen ground as she hurried among the ruts and ridges of the path, heading straight toward the scene.

“Hang the nigger,” a man’s voice rang out angrily, loud and clear in the blackness of the night. “Hang him high and leave him for the buzzards to pick. That oughta teach these damn thievin’ bastards a lesson.”

“Not my boy. Oh, Lordy, God, not my boy. Please, no. Have mercy. He ain’t never hurt nobody. You done shot him. Don’t hang him, please, God, God…”

That was Nolie screaming. Kitty tried to quicken her pace, but the path was slippery. She could not risk falling and injuring the baby. Closer. She had to get closer so she could take careful aim before shooting. Trying to hold up her skirts with one hand so she would not trip, she held tightly to the gun with the other. She could make out the scene now. Six men, dressed in what looked like white robes, stood in a semicircle around someone lying on the ground. She could not see their faces, for they wore hoods, with slits cut for the eyes, noses and mouths. Why would they dress like that, she wondered, like a child’s image of a ghost?

But there was no time to wonder. She could see Nolie holding Gideon as she rocked back and forth, moaning and sobbing. Kitty was close enough. She stopped walking and stood there, taking in the scene. So Gideon had slipped in to see his mother. And he was an outlaw. But by God, this was her land, and there would be no more shooting here and no hanging. These ruffians were obviously not law officers, and they were not going to take the law into their own hands. Not on her land, by God.

She saw Jacob crouched near Nolie, his eyes wide with fear. Three of the men carried torches. The others all held guns. One of them roared, “Get away from him or we’ll shoot the two of you.”

Kitty fired over their heads, and they jerked around to stare at her through their slitted hoods. She yelled, “Drop those guns!” And she fired quickly at one man who started to raise his rifle, knocking it from his hand. Incredulously, he shook his tingling hand and stared at the pregnant woman with a gun. The others made no move to raise their weapons against her.

“Jacob, take their guns,” she ordered.

The old Negro looked at her uncertainly, dazed. Nolie continued to rock her badly bleeding son, weeping and wailing.

“Jacob, I said take their guns,” Kitty repeated, her voice stern. “Do it now.”

Very slowly the old Negro got to his feet. Moving cautiously and uncertainly, he went from man to man until he had collected all their guns. “Toss them over there.” Kitty nodded toward a nearby huckleberry bush. With several loud plops, the guns were thrown into a pile.

“You’re makin’ a heap of trouble for yourself, Kitty Wright,” the man closest to her snapped. “This nigger is an outlaw, and we aim to hang him. You knowed all along he’s been slippin’ in here to see his ma, ain’t you?”

“I owe you no explanation for anything that goes on here. This is my land. If Gideon is an outlaw, then let the courts decide what to do with him.” Her voice was crisp, steady, but she was terrified. “Jacob, take one of their horses and go for help. Go all the way to town if you have to. But find someone who is decent enough to help us with Gideon. We will then turn these men over to the sheriff.”

“Nigger lover,” another man said as Jacob scurried toward a horse, mounted and galloped across the frozen earth. “Look at her! Belly all big and swollen with that Yankee soldier’s young’un. We oughta kill her, too, havin’ a damn half-breed bastard!”

Nolie stopped her rocking and moaning to raise tear-filled eyes to Kitty, her face glowing in the light from the torches. “Miss Kitty, I tol’ my boy not to come here no more. But he was sick. He come here tonight for me to fix him somethin’ fo’ his fever. They musta been watchin’ and waitin’ fo’ him to come. And now he’s hurt bad.” Tears streamed down her black cheeks.

“We’ll take care of him, Nolie,” Kitty said softly, her heart going out to the old woman.

Kitty’s fingers were cold and stiffening, and she wondered how long she could stand there holding the gun. It felt like ice against her numbing skin. There was no way of knowing how long it would take Jacob to find help. If only someone else were around to tie up these animals, she thought anxiously, she could put the gun down and warm her hands and see what she could do to help Gideon. She could see that he was bleeding profusely from a wound in his chest. It looked bad, very bad.

“He is an outlaw,” one of the men said. His voice was calm. There was something vaguely familiar about his Southern accent with the slight raise at the end of each syllable. “You know the law has been after him for months.”

“Then let the
law
deal with him, not you. Who do you think you are? How dare you ride on to my property this way, in the middle of the night, dressed in robes and hoods? Why, you look like bandits yourselves.”

“The law cannot be everywhere at once, but with enough followers who believe as we do, we can be everywhere, Miss Wright. So make it easy on yourself. Put down your gun and let us take this outlaw and hang him. Then we’ll go and leave you in peace.”

“You are in no position to bargain,” Kitty snapped. “And I think the sheriff will be very interested to find out what has taken place here tonight. There are also laws to deal with scum like you, who dare to take the law into your own hands.”

She saw his hood suck in as he drew a deep breath. “This is your last chance, Miss Wright. Either put down your gun and step out of our way or you give us no choice but to possibly harm you. We need the support of white people if we are to keep these uppity niggers in line, now that the Yankees have turned them loose. The white Southerners must stick together or perish.”

One of the other men snorted. “Hell, you think she gives a shit about the South? We done tol’ you, her daddy was a goddamn traitor, and everybody in the county knows her Yankee lover put one of our finest officers in his grave. You’re wasting your breath trying to talk her into taking our side. She knows all along Gideon was coming here. He never would of come if he hadn’t figured he was safe.”

“Miss Wright.” The familiar voice spoke again, still quite calm, as though he were confident he could make her see things his way. “I don’t think you understand what you are doing. You never leave this land, so you don’t realize how the niggers are running wild now. We whites have to join together to do what the courts are unable to do. And when word spreads about how you took up for an outlaw, you are going to suffer grave consequences.”

“That accent…” Kitty said in wonder. “Virginia. Yes, a Virginia accent. I know who you are now, Jerome Danton.”

Kitty was momentarily dazed by her discovery, and Jerome and the others saw and took advantage. The three men holding torches dashed them to the ground, and in the sudden confusion, Kitty was no match for the man who grabbed her arm and knocked the gun from her hand. She found herself being flung to the ground, her arms yanked painfully behind her back as she was pulled back up to her knees.

“Hold her there,” Jerome ordered. “Try not to hurt her. We have control of things now, so there is no need to rough up a pregnant lady.”

“Lady, my ass,” the man holding her snorted. “You call this pregnant bitch a lady? I say let’s show her what she’s good for. She ain’t one of us. She’s a goddamn traitor like her no-good daddy. And I don’t give a shit how good lookin’ she is, and how the menfolks talk about how they’d like to tap her honey hole. I say let’s strip her naked and teach her a lesson.”

Jerome moved so quickly that Kitty almost didn’t see the fist strike out and smash into the other man’s hooded face. Staggering but not falling he dropped her arms. She fell forward twisting to watch as blood seeped through his white hood. “I oughta kill you for this, Danton,” he snarled, spitting out a broken tooth.

Jerome laughed shortly. “You have more sense than to try, you fool. Next time, follow orders and keep your mouth shut. Now, let’s get on with the business at hand. Your opinion of Miss Wright has nothing to do with why we are here. We do not stoop to torturing pregnant women, do you understand? She can do us no harm now.”

Wiping at his bloodied mouth, the man glared at her through his slitted hood. “One of these days, I’ll fix you up good, Kitty Wright. I’ll show you what a real man feels like.”

Jerome Danton knelt in front of Kitty, cupping her chin gently in his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. Someone held a torch down closely, illuminating her face, and hatred blazed in her eyes. “I told you you were very foolish,” Jerome whispered, genuinely apologetic. “You are such a lovely creature. It would be a pity to have to harm you.”

“Hey, this nigger’s dead,” someone yelled. Jerome left her and rushed over to where Nolie still held her son against her bosom. He felt for a heartbeat, then nodded.

“Hell, we ain’t gonna have the fun of seeing him swing and hearing his neck break,” one of the men said.

“Yes, we will.” Jerome stood up. “We’ll take his body to the fork in the road by the river and hang it from a tree there. None of the niggers about will dare cut him down for fear that we are watching. When the buzzards have picked him to the bone, they can stare at him and think about how the same thing can happen to them if they dare get out of line.”

“No, no, you can’t have him,” Nolie screamed as Gideon’s body was yanked from her arms. One of the men hit her with his fist, and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. Kitty watched as the limp body of the Negro boy was slung over the back of a horse.

“Don’t…don’t do this thing.” Kitty was struggling to get to her feet, knifelike pains slashing down her back. “Go now. Leave us alone. You’ve done enough.”