The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (11 page)

Her hands were clawing at them, at the dirt around her, and then her fingers touched a bottle. She picked it up and brought it swinging down. Glass cracked against a skull. There was a yelp of pain, and the beefy palm fell from her face. She brought her knee up into the other man’s groin, and heard a shriek of pain. She scrambled to her feet and fled from the alley, leaving the two stunned men groaning in the darkness.

For a moment she stood in the dim glow of the saloon’s lanterns, wondering where she could run to, where it would be safe to hide. Perhaps she should try to make it back to the hospital, beg Dr. Malpass for a night’s refuge. In the daylight hours, she could make plans. Now, there was only danger about.

“Hey, look what I see!” She turned, trembling, at the sound of a voice to her right. Three men had just swaggered out of the saloon and stood there appraising her. One was tall and slender and wore a tattered Confederate uniform. He grinned at her with yellowed teeth. Another wore overalls and no shirt and was barefooted. He had flared nostrils like a hog, and his fingers dug into his groin as he looked at her with excited eyes. The man who had spoken was heavyset, a scar ran down one side of his cheek, and she saw that only a stump-remained where his right arm should have been.

“I remember you,” the one-armed man spoke, his upper lip curling in a snarl. “You helped chop my arm off.”

“I m sorry,” Kitty stammered, rubbing one hand across her forehead. “There were so many. I was a nurse. I worked in field hospitals, you see…”

“Yeah, I see.” He stepped off the plank porch fronting the saloon. “I begged them fool doctors to just let me die. But no, they kept telling me I had to live. For what? To come back to this stinking hole and starve to death? What good is a one-armed man? And all the time, you was there, a syrupy smile on that picture-pretty face of yours, telling me God had a plan for me and all that bullshit. And you helped ’em take off my arm. I was crazy with pain, but I remember you was right there.”

“Bert, I thought you said it was a Yankee doctor what took your arm off, a’fore you was sent to that prison.” The man wearing the tattered gray uniform spoke. “If this little filly was there, how come she’s here?”

“Oh, where are my genteel Southern manners.” Bert gave a mock bow, sweeping his straw hat off with his remaining hand. “I didn’t introduce this young ‘lady’,” he sneered.

“This here,” he continued, insolently grinning, “is Miss Kitty Wright. She worked for the Yankees. Had her a Yankee lover, too. Hard-fightin’ bastard cavalryman by the name of Coltrane.”

“I’ve heard of him,” the overalled man said, awed. “I remember soldiers saying Coltrane would ride into hell and go after Satan himself with his sword if it would clear the path to draw the blood of a Reb. That son of a bitch was her lover?”

“Oh, yes, he was,” Bert snickered. “And you know what else? He’s the one what murdered Nathan Collins. I didn’t know the man myself, and neither did you-all, being we ain’t from these parts, but I hear tell he was a fine Southern officer, and he was murdered by this trollop’s Yankee-boy ’cause Collins had the misfortune of being her betrothed.”

The overalled man spat a wad of tobacco juice into the street. “Well, ain’t that a pile of horseshit. Then what’s she doing back here?”

“Well, I reckon she’s looking for a man to take the place of her Yank.” Bert started toward Kitty at the same time she began to stumble backward. “You boys reckon the three of us could take the place of one Yankee and satisfy the little lady?”

“No, please.” Kitty turned and started running in the darkness, the three men right behind her. She knew what would happen if they caught her. She would be dragged into the nearest alley and raped. She would probably lose her baby. They might even kill her. And no matter how loudly she screamed, anyone who heard would turn a deaf ear as soon as they realized it was Kitty Wright who cried for help.

She ran past several buildings, windows dark. If the men had not been drunk and staggering, they could easily have caught her, but their stumbling gave her an advantage.

Then she saw the dim glow of a lantern straining to cast a shadow through the cracks in a boarded-up window. Perhaps someone was inside to hear the shouts of a woman in distress. If they would only open the door quickly, Kitty prayed, she would rush inside before they could recognize her and shut her out.

“Please! Help me!” She banged on the door with her fists, voice hysterical. “Help me. You must help me, please!”

“Gotcha!” She felt a hand grabbing at her skirt, yanking her backward. She would have fallen from the wooden porch if her attackers had not been upon her, supporting her even as they pulled her away from the door. Already hands were pawing at her breasts, streaking beneath her skirt and inching up her legs.

“Oh, we’re gonna have us a fine time with this one.” She smelled their whiskey breath. “I’m first, remember.”

Just as they reached the street, Kitty’s feet digging and kicking up a dust swirl about them, the door to the little building opened. A man stepped outside, holding a lantern above his head. Kitty did not see the gun he also held. “What’s going on out here? What are you men doing to that woman? Leave her alone.”

He spoke as though he were used to being obeyed, and the mauling stopped as Bert spoke up quickly. “You don’t understand, Mr. McRae. This here is Kitty Wright. Everybody in town knows she’s trash.”

Kitty shuddered as the explosion spit the air. “I said leave her alone. Unhand her. What right do you have to manhandle a woman? Get away from her.”

The hand fell away from her mouth. She was allowed to slump into the dirt. Footsteps thundered as the men disappeared into the night. A few people had gathered out of nowhere, it seemed, at the sound of gunfire. Trembling, her nerves frazzled by the two confrontations, Kitty meekly allowed her rescuer to lift her out of the street and to her feet. In the lantern’s glow, she saw two fiery black eyes staring down at her beneath thick eyebrows. The man had hard, chiseled features, a deep cleft in his chin. His dark hair had flecks of gray, and his moustache, clipped neatly, gave him an aristocratic air. She decided at once that she was not at the mercy of ordinary riffraff.

Then, for some reason, despite her gratitude for being saved, Kitty’s bosom began to quiver with an unexplainable fear. There was something terrifying about the man. He exuded power, authority and brute male force, yet his arm was gentle as he steered her up the steps.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked, ignoring all the staring eyes. “Shall I have one of my men go for a doctor?”

“No, no, they didn’t hurt me. They just scared me to death.” Kitty allowed him to lead her inside and close the door. She didn’t like those angry, staring faces. She doubted there was one among them who would do for her what this man was doing. Then why did she fear him? She tried to tell him how she appreciated his helping her. “I have many enemies in this town, and I have just been discharged from my work at the hospital, and there’s no place for me to go, and…”

She stopped, realizing how hysterical she must sound. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rattle on so. My problems are no concern of yours. You have helped me enough for one night. I’ll go now.”

He had poured brandy into two glasses. Handing one to her, he smiled and said, “Go where, my lady? You just finished telling me that you have nowhere to go. It was terrible of Dr. Malpass to dismiss you because of that unfortunate incident at the hospital today. I realize he was only following orders, but I should think his heart would have overruled his obligations as an officer.”

Kitty could only blink at him, stunned. “How…how is it that you know so much about me, sir?” She took a big gulp of the brandy, not caring that it burned her throat, which was raw from so much screaming. “I haven’t even told you my name.”

He smiled down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid around and around. He wore fine clothes, Kitty noted. His silk shirt was open at the throat, revealing a muscular chest covered in dark, curly hair. His boots were of genuine leather, hand-polished. She also noticed a large diamond ring. He was obviously quite wealthy.

“Your name is Kitty Wright, and you were born and raised in Wayne County.” He spoke in words that sounded memorized. “You helped both sides during the war in the hospital tents. You were engaged to a Confederate officer from Wayne County by the name of Nathan Collins. You were the mistress, lover, whatever you wish to call it, of a Federal cavalry officer named Travis Coltrane. At the Battle of Bentonville, Collins and Coltrane fought, and Collins was killed. I have heard many reports of what happened, the most popular of which is that Coltrane ruthlessly stomped your ex-fiancé to death. You rode into Goldsboro with Sherman’s army, then went to the way hospital to work there. Coltrane left town a few days later with General Sherman and has not returned. You now carry his child. The people of Goldsboro and Wayne County despise you, and it is not safe for you to live among them as long as the scars of war still fester.”

Kitty coughed, almost choking on the brandy. “How could you possibly know so much, when I have never seen you before in my life? I don’t even know your name.”

“Corey McRae, formerly of New York, at your service.” He bowed with a flourish. “And I know everything about everyone in this county. I make it my business to know as much as possible about people where I live. Then I know when to turn my back and when not to. In your case, I visited General Schofield one day when he was about to make a tour of the hospital, and he mentioned to me the problems that your presence was causing. He also mentioned that you have a rare and tender beauty and a spirit unmatched by any woman he had ever known before. I was curious. I wanted to see this beautiful creature who could stir the ire of so many. I went with him and saw you that day, but you did not see me. You were far too busy ministering to the sick and wounded. I should like to compliment you on your work, by the way. You were wonderful with the men.”

He downed the rest of his brandy, then refilled his glass. “I asked the general to keep me informed as to your activities, and he sent a messenger just this evening to tell me of your unfortunate discharge. I also learned that you are expecting a child. Is this child sired by Travis Coltrane?”

“Yes,” she nodded, awestruck. Shaking her head from side to side, she murmured, “But I don’t understand why you bothered yourself about my activities. Why should I be of concern to you?”

He interrupted by snapping, “Had I not been so busy with other matters, I would have seen to it before now that you were not bothered. The incidents tonight should not have happened.” His nostrils flared with anger, black eyes sparkled.

Kitty had never before felt such a reaction to a man. Travis could be riled to extreme violence, true, but even so there had been an underlying feeling of tenderness.

With Luke Tate, there had been instant distaste. He was a useless human being who had never possessed an ounce of kindness.

But in Corey McRae, Kitty found a new phenomenon, one she could not explain. She sensed that while he was not as ruthless as Luke Tate, he was incapable of genuine feeling for anyone.

Yet he had saved her when no one else would. Why?

There was a sudden pounding on the door, and Kitty jumped, startled. Corey crossed the room. Would it be the townspeople, she thought apprehensively, demanding that she be turned over to them?

She watched, trembling slightly, as a huge, burly man wearing a bloodstained shirt and buckskin breeches entered the room. Vaguely, Kitty remembered his having been outside, appearing out of nowhere when Corey fired his gun. Corey had spoken to him as they entered the little building, but she had not heard what was said. Now he was removing his hat and speaking in a respectful tone “Sir, we got those three. Me and the boys worked ’em over good. They’ll know better than to bother the lady here again. They’ll also spread the word that any man or woman what lays a hand on her will answer to you.”

“Very good, Carl.” Corey dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Backing out the door, Carl closed it quietly after him. Corey turned to Kitty and smiled. “That is what I mean, my dear. I could have kept unpleasantness from you. I have a large group of men working for me, all experienced gunfighters and barroom brawlers. Your good neighbors know this, and they fear them. You may now go anywhere you wish without fear of harm. Had I not been so tied up with business matters, all of this could have been avoided. An unpardonable sin, my sweet, to let business matters come before one so lovely as you.” He lifted his glass in salute.

He walked over to where she sat and stood gazing down at her. Kitty was glancing around the room, taking in the disarray and clutter, the stacks and stacks of papers and maps. “What kind of business are you in?” she asked him bluntly, lifting her eyes to meet his.

For a moment he did not answer but stood there looking at her in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable. Then, with a slight chuckle, he said, “Real estate, my dear Miss Wright. I deal in real estate.”

She shook her head in wonder. “Why would anyone come all the way from New York to deal in real estate in the South? Haven’t you seen the devastation your General Sherman left in his wake? What do you plan to do? Start one big cemetery and have all the bodies from both sides buried in it, then charge admission?”

He laughed uproariously. “I had heard you had spunk, and now I believe it. You are precious, Kitty Wright, simply precious.” He waved his arm in the air. “Allow me to apologize for these miserable surroundings. I had to set up an office, and this building was left vacant by someone who was obviously fleeing our army. General Schofield was kind enough to allow me to use it. I plan to build my own office in the near future, as well as an estate in the country. But enough talk about me. You look pale. When did you last eat? I understand that rations are scarce at the hospital and unpalatable at that.”