The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (51 page)

The Negro Sam had questioned opened the door and stood there, twisting his old straw hat in gnarled hands. His eyes were bulging, and his lips were trembling. “I…I thoughts you lawmen would wants to know…they is big trouble out at the McRae place. Leastways, they’s gonna be soon’s Danton and his men get there.”

Travis was already off the bed and pulling on his boots.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam demanded.

“I seen ’em ride out of town, that’s all.” He started backing toward the door.

Sam reached out and clamped a burly hand on the Negro’s scrawny shoulder. “No, hell, that ain’t all. Just what do you know?”

The black man cringed, looked from Sam’s glaring eyes to Travis’s, then said, “I gonna get killed if’n anybody hears me tellin’ this—”

“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t start telling it,” Sam snarled. “Now hurry it up.”

“One of Danton’s men, man named Dawson, got hisself killed tonight. Danton figured McRae had a hand in it, so he rounded up his men, and they done gone to settle things once and for all. I seen ’em riding out about five minutes ago, and I figured you’uns bein’ the law and all, you’d want to know.”

“You were right.” Sam gave him a reassuring pat. “Now get the hell out of here and keep your mouth shut. Don’t repeat what you’ve told us to anybody else.”

Travis was on his feet. “Let’s go.”

Within minutes they were riding their horses out of town and toward the McRae plantation, pushing their mounts as fast as they would go. Neither man spoke.

Travis was thinking about his son, rolling the words around in his mouth, his mind, his heart.
My son!
He actually had a son. Damn Kitty to hell for not waiting for him, he thought fiercely. But she no longer mattered. Let her have her wealth and her fine house and her daddy’s land. By God, he was going to have his son. He was going to take him and go back to Louisiana and the peace and quiet and beauty of the bayou. The war and its painful memories would fade away. He and his boy would find happiness.

The horses’ thundering hoofbeats broke the night silence.
Faster
, Travis spurred his horse, and Sam saw and did likewise.
Faster, damn it, faster.

It seemed an eternity before they heard the sounds of gunfire and knew they were close. “You gonna just ride in there?” Sam yelled over the cannonade. “We’ll get our heads blowed off.”

Travis did not answer. Only when they reached the gates to the plantation itself did he rein in his horse and stop. Dismounting, he said, “We go the rest of the way on foot. The shooting is coming in spurts now. I think the war is over. There’s just a few hanging on to keep it going.”

They moved down the curving driveway. Sam stumbled over something and looked down to make out a body. A few feet farther on another man lay dying. He didn’t pause to give him aid because he knew he had to keep up with Travis.

“All right, hold it!” Travis yelled, sighting Jerome Danton standing in the moonlight. Pointing his gun, he walked forward. “Make one move, Danton, and I’ll blow your guts open.”

Jerome dropped his gun, raised his hands and limped forward. “Okay,” he said. “It’s all over. I got what I came after.”

“Tell your men to throw down their guns,” Sam ordered. Jerome obeyed and, one by one, men began stepping from behind trees, shrubs, out of nowhere.

“They killed one of my men. Frank Dawson,” Jerome said in a quiet, subdued voice “I came here to settle this fight once and for all, and I did. Most of McRae’s men are dead. We caught them by surprise.”

“You’re all under arrest,” Travis said coldly. “Where is McRae?”

“I want to tell you something, Marshal.” For the first time since he began talking, Danton displayed anger. “I found out from Kitty what McRae had planned. He killed Dawson to haul his body along to the widow Glass’s. He was going to work her over again, have her boys beaten so’s to scare her into wanting to sell her land and move to town where she’d be safe. He holds the tax lien on her property, but he didn’t want it said he kicked a poor widow woman off her land. He wanted to make things look nice. He was going to leave Dawson behind, to link him to me and my men so I’d get the blame.”

“Where is he?” Travis repeated coldly. “And where is his wife and the boy?”

“McRae’s around back. I shot him. If he ain’t dead, he soon will be. Nobody knows where the boy is. Kitty was hysterical when I talked to her. She can’t find the boy either.”

Travis was already walking in the direction Danton was pointing. Sam watched him anxiously, wishing he could go along but knowing he had to stay behind to cover Danton and his men.

Rounding the big mansion, Travis could make out the grim scene a little distance ahead. A Negro servant held a lantern over Corey McRae, and Kitty was kneeling beside him, sobbing. Very touching, Travis thought bitterly, and drew closer with stealth, hoping to overhear what was said.

He did not arrive in time to hear Corey’s dying words. “In my own way, Kitty…” he whispered into her anxious face, “I did love you. I’ve left it all, everything I had…to you.”

“Corey, please, just tell me what you did with my baby,” she pleaded, her hands clasped against her bosom as she knelt beside him. Even at his death she could feel only loathing, and even that was overpowered by the anguish of not knowing where little John had been taken. “Just tell me where my son is, Corey, please.”

He gave one last guttural moan, and the blood that gurgled from his mouth was a thick, muddy red in the lantern’s yellow glow. He coughed and the blood gushed forth in one final spurt. Then his head slumped to the side, eyes pinpointed toward the stars.

Travis got within earshot just as the servant said, “Miss Kitty, don’t you fret. That boy is down in one of the cabins. Mistah McRae had him taken there ’cause he got tired of hearing him cry. He’s just fine. You know Lottie? She lookin’ after him since Dulcie and Addie got sent away.”

Kitty had not noticed Travis standing nearby. Breathing a sigh of relief, she murmured, “All right. Just so I know he’s safe. The shooting seems to be over now. Get a blanket from the house to cover Mr. McRae.”

The servant slowly set the lantern down on the ground beside his mistress and the body of his master, but his eyes were watching the taut, grim lines on the face of the tall man standing nearby. A shimmer of light caught on his chest. A star. The man was the law. Everything would be all right now.

The Negro scurried by Travis Coltrane to disappear into the darkness.

Kitty tried to feel something as she looked down at Corey’s body. She did not want to hate, yet she could not deny the passion of pure loathing. He had tricked her, abused and tormented her. Yes, yes, she was glad he was dead. Even if Travis were lost to her forever, she had her son. She had her life again. No longer would she suffer from Corey McRae.

It was over. Praise God, her suffering was over.

With a trembling hand she reached out to dig into the soft earth, scooping up a handful. Swaying slightly, she let it trickle through her fingers and fall silently to the ground. “This is mine now,” she whispered. “Whatever else is over and done with, this land is mine.”

She did not see Travis steal slowly away in the shadows, moving toward the row of old slave cottages.

Suddenly a man approached from the front of the house. Kitty glanced up sharply, hearing the steady, determined thud of boots. When he reached the circle of light where she knelt, her head shook slightly. She gasped his name, then held her arms open and was drawn up against his broad chest.

Sam Bucher patted her back. “It’s going to be all right, Kitty. It’s over now. I deputized one of the servants to keep an eye on those varmints out front. Can’t find Travis. He just disappeared.”

“Travis is here?” She raised her head back to search his face hopefully. “Travis?”

“Yes.” He was able to give her a slight smile. “Yes, he’s here, Kitty, and I think he believes now that your baby is his son. I did some checking today, and we were talking about all I’d found out when we got word about the trouble here. We came right away. I don’t know where he’s gone, but he knows that little one is his now.”

She moved from his arms, tucked her small hand into his large one. “Come with me, Sam. Let’s go down to the cabins. That’s where John was being kept. Then we’ll find Travis. Oh, Sam, Sam, I have so much to tell him, so much to explain. And he’ll listen to me now. I know he will.”

Kitty reached the row of cottages. “Lottie? Lottie? Where are you?” she called anxiously into the night. She could feel dozens of pairs of eyes upon her even though she could not see them. She knew they were frightened and watching. “Lottie, I want my baby! Answer me, please.” Her voice broke.

Sam caught up with her. “Relax, Kitty. They’re frightened. There’s been a lot of shooting, and they don’t know what’s happened and they’re scared. We’ll find your boy. Don’t you fret.

“Someone answer us!” Sam’s voice boomed with authority. “We want Mrs. McRae’s baby.”

Finally, when Kitty thought she would surely scream if someone didn’t answer, a hesitant voice called to her out of the shadows. “Miss Kitty, it’s me, Lottie.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” Kitty whirled in the direction of the voice. Sam held up the lantern, and a plump Negro woman with a colorful bandanna wrapped about her head stepped into the light. Her hands were clasped together over her white apron, and her head was bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. Kitty rushed forward to clutch her shoulders. “Lottie, tell me. Where is my baby? I must have him! Now!”

Sam took a step forward. “Kitty, easy now. I told you. These folks are frightened.” He looked at the woman and made his voice gentle, coaxing. “It’s all right, Lottie. You can give the baby to Mrs. McRae now. There’s been some trouble, but it’s all over now. I’m the law, and we’ve got everything under control. You give the lady her baby, just like she says.”

The Negro broke into tears, covering her face in her hands. “He’s gone.”

Kitty’s heart leaped into her throat. “Gone? What do you mean he’s gone? You were caring for him, weren’t you?”

“Yes’m, yes’m, I was. Takin’ good care of him, too, just like Mistah McRae told me to. But a little while ago, just before you come, another man come. He had a star on his chest, and he was mad, and he say he gonna shoot somebody if’n he don’t find his boy. I ain’t wantin’ to die, Miss Kitty. You gotta understand. He was like a madman. Went around kickin’ on doors. My man went outside with a lantern, and that’s when we saw he was the law. He say if’n he don’t get that boy, somebody gonna die. What was I to do? I wrapped that baby up in a blanket, and I give him to him, and he took off like the devil hisself was on his heels.”

Kitty would have fallen if Sam’s arm had not been about her. Her anguished cry wrenched his heart. He held her tightly against him.

“It’s all right. Travis came and got the boy, and we’ll find them at the house. Let’s go.”

They ran all the way. Someone had the house aglow with lanterns, and Danton’s men were milling about inside, quiet now, satisfied. Their work was over and they were willing to face whatever consequences lay ahead.

As Kitty and Sam rushed in the front door, Jerome was waiting for them. “Marshal, there won’t be any more trouble, I promise you. And I’m sure a judge is going to realize we were justified in what we did. Especially when Kitty gets up and tells why Dawson was killed, what McRae had in mind. I mean, when you think that he was going to have a helpless widow attacked again.”

Sam shoved Kitty into a nearby chair and faced Jerome. “Have you seen Marshal Coltrane?”

“I did!” one of Danton’s men said from where he stood leaning against the mantel above the fireplace. He held a bottle of brandy in his hand and took a sip. Sam moved closer, and the man said, “He came tearing around the other side of the house, carrying something. He got on a horse and went galloping off!”

Sam Bucher did not trust himself to speak. He knew what had happened. There was no point in lying to Kitty now, no use saying everything would work out. Travis and little John would not be back at the hotel. Without a doubt, Travis Coltrane had taken his son back to his beloved bayou, to the peace he believed they would find there.

Chapter Thirty

Kitty stood at her bedroom window, staring out but seeing nothing. How could Travis have done such a thing? She bit down on her lip viciously and whirled around to glare at the empty room. How could he have taken a helpless baby who needed constant care? How could Travis hope to provide for him? Louisiana was a long way from North Carolina. Did he plan to travel that distance on horseback, holding a six-month-old baby in his arms? How was he going to feed him? Did he even know what a baby that small was supposed to eat? It had been a week since that night. Were they in Louisiana by now?

Pressing trembling fingertips to her throbbing temples, Kitty tried to think. Corey had been buried three days ago in a simple service with no one in attendance except a reluctant minister and a few servants who felt obliged to be there. Hugo had been killed that night, also. And Rance. The matter of cleaning up after the massacre had been left to the servants. She had spent all her time in her room, alternately praying and cursing.

There was money. Oh, yes, there was plenty of money now. It was all hers. Corey’s dying words had not been lies. The wormy-faced lawyer from Goldsboro had paid her a visit the day of the funeral to tell her that she had inherited all of her husband’s holdings. She was extremely wealthy now. But nothing mattered except Louisiana and getting John back from there.