The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (15 page)

Very slowly, General Schofield lowered himself into his chair. “Now I realize who you are,” he said quietly, evenly. “And I am sorry for any distress you feel I may have caused you, Miss Wright. Your expecting a baby is your fault, you know. That was something you should have considered when you and Captain Coltrane…” He trailed off, embarrassed.

“I did not come here to discuss my relationship with Captain Coltrane. That is my concern and no one else’s,” Kitty snapped. “I came here to discuss the pay owed to my father. I am quite sure something was owed to him at the time of his death, and he did not have any money on him. I feel the money is rightfully mine now, and I also expect you to expedite matters and see that it is paid to me at once, due to your being indirectly responsible for my being thrown out on the streets.”

The general raked stubby fingers through one of his side beards, a sarcastic smile twisting his lips. “And who was your father?”

“John Wright.”

His eyebrows raised, and his eyes widened. He coughed and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, of course I knew of your father. He was a fine soldier, a very fine soldier, indeed. One of our bravest.”

“Nathan Collins shot him in the back,” she spat out. “Captain Coltrane merely revenged his death by giving Nathan what he deserved. What the people of this county believe is of no concern to me. What
does
concern me, sir, is keeping the land that belonged to my father. It meant everything to him, and he meant for me to have it. Now, I don’t have to tell you about the Yankee vultures hovering about waiting to buy up Southern land for delinquent taxes, now that Confederate money is worthless.”

“Such are the consequences of war,” he said with a shrug. “I can do nothing to stop such investments, Miss Wright. If I were not a military officer, perhaps I might become interested in such business ventures myself.”

“Are you sure you aren’t already involved? Don’t pretend that you don’t know the lecherous Mr. Corey McRae. He told me himself that you were the one who informed him of my unwanted presence at the hospital. I also know that you gave him permission to use that old feed store for his office while he pursues his real estate business.”

He sputtered indignantly, “I am only befriending the man. The store was standing there useless. Miss Wright, I must say that I resent your implications.”

She ignored his outburst and continued calmly. “I plan to live here and work my land. I do not intend to have Mr. McRae or any of the other vultures take it away from me. If Captain Coltrane is not dead, he will return and marry me, though God only knows when that will be. Until that time, I need money desperately, and all I am asking of you is that you check the military pay records and determine just how much money my father had coming to him at the time of his death. I want this done as soon as possible.”

He started to tell her that it didn’t make a damn bit of difference what she wanted, but he knew the persistent woman would not take no for an answer. “Yes, I understand, Miss Wright,” he sighed. “But you must understand that this is going to take some time. The final terms of surrender are still up in the air, due to President Lincoln’s tragic death. Washington is in turmoil. There is much paperwork going on. In addition, there are soldiers begging to be discharged so they can return to their homes. Relatives must be notified as to where their loved ones are buried so they may move the remains elsewhere if they so desire. As for pay records of the dead, that is not of primary concern. I would say it is on the bottom of the list.”

“It is of primary concern to
me
, General, and it is on the top of
my
list!”

She slammed her hands on his desk to emphasize her desperation. “I am starving, do you understand? For my supper last night I ate swamp-bottom roots with the only friends I have…freed slaves…Negroes…good people who were glad to take me in. I drank hot water for my breakfast this morning and chewed more swamp roots. How long do you think I can survive this way? How long do you think those Negroes can survive? My God, General, they were better off before you damn Yankees set them free. At least they had food in their bellies and a roof over their heads. I need money to pay the taxes owed on my father’s land and get a late crop of food growing so there will be food for this winter. I need to buy cows for milk, calves for meat. I want to befriend the Negroes the way they have befriended me. Corey McRae will never get that land. I’ll die first. Which is probably what I will do, and my baby too, if you don’t get up off your pompous butt and find my father’s pay records and get me some money.”

She took a deep breath, then said loudly, “Do I make myself clear, General? I hope so, because if I haven’t, you are going to get very, very tired of seeing me march into your office every single day. You may be assured that I will return daily until I get that money.

“Maybe other Southerners are content to grovel about with their heads down in shame because we lost the war,” Kitty said, pounding the desk again. “But I, sir, do not intend to grovel. I have no shame. I never turned from a wounded man on the battlefield because of the colors he fought under. I doctored hundreds—maybe thousands. Now I figure the Yankee Army owes my father something, and I intend to receive it.”

With that, she got up and stormed out of the office. As soon as the door slammed behind her, General Schofield banged his fists on his desk, yelling for the three soldiers stationed outside. They came rushing in, all three talking at once. “Shut up!” General Schofield ordered angrily. “I don’t want to listen to your sniveling about how you are unable to control a helpless female.”

“Helpless? Her?” one of the soldiers screeched. “Sir, you just don’t know—”

“Yes, I
do
know!” The general withered him with a look. “And that is why you are immediately going to prepare pay records for a dead soldier named John Wright. When she comes back in here, you will have some money to give her and a paper showing that it represents the amount owed to her father. I have no intention of going through another scene with that woman.”

The soldier stared open-mouthed, then gestured helplessly as he said, “How am I going to come up with pay records for a soldier when I don’t know anything about him? Who’s John Wright? What regiment did he fight with? What was the date of his death? Who was his commanding officer? I have to have more information, sir, before I can even send out an inquiry.”

“You idiot, you aren’t going to send out an inquiry. We aren’t going to go through channels on this. I said I wanted no more dealings with that woman. You prepare an official-
looking
document and state that we have found the United States Government owes John Wright the sum of, let’s say, three hundred dollars. I will take the money from my own funds and give it to the girl to be rid of her. I certainly cannot have her storming in here every day. And perhaps I do have to assume some of the responsibility for her plight. Blast Coltrane!” He slammed a fist into the palm of his hand. “Send an inquiry as to his whereabouts. Request that General Sherman order him to return to Goldsboro as soon as possible.”

He was pacing up and down the worn wooden floor, boots thudding with each step, hands folded behind his back. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. After a few moments he stopped pacing and stood in front of the Union flag, staring at it for long, brooding moments. Finally, sighing deeply, he shook his head and said, “No. Forget what I said about preparing a false document. I have never falsified government papers, and I do not intend to start now. I will just have to offer Miss Wright a loan until we can go through the right channels to ascertain how much, if any, money is owed her dead father. I cannot be a party to deceit.”

The soldier who had been doing all the talking, Jesse Brandon, quickly said, “I agree with you, sir. It sure wouldn’t be right. I guess we could all get in a heap of trouble. But you know it may take months—”

“Just do it,” the general snapped wearily. “Get started right away. When she returns, show her into my office. I will offer her a loan. That is the best I can do.”

Once outside the general’s office, Kitty headed in the direction of the tax office. As she passed two pinch-faced women dressed in black, one of them said, loud enough for her to hear, “I don’t see how some women have the nerve to show their faces in public.”

Kitty whipped her head around and snapped, “I agree, madam. I know you can’t help being ugly, but you could stay home where people wouldn’t have to look at you.” She could hear them gasping as she marched on, and Kitty laughed. No longer was she going to take abuse. She owed no one an apology for anything, and she had as much right to live here as anyone.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely butterfly who escaped the evil spider’s web.”

Kitty stopped short, turning to the doorway on her right. Corey McRae, resplendent in a white linen suit and fancy white boots, stood smiling down at her. The black silk shirt he wore made his dark eyes glow like shining coal. He touched a finger to his moustache, the huge diamond she had admired the night before gleaming in the midmorning sunlight. In a mocking tone he said, “I thought you were a gracious lady, Miss Wright. Yet you rudely left without a word of appreciation for my hospitality.”

“You scoundrel!” Her violet eyes glittered with red sparks of anger, and she faced him, hands on her hips. “How dare you speak of hospitality. You were holding me your prisoner, and you know it. You were planning on setting me up in the hotel as your mistress.”

He laughed so loudly that several passersby paused to stare, then moved on when Corey glared at them. To Kitty, he said, “Come now, my dear. I offered you the respectability of matrimony. I asked you to be my wife. As I explained to you during our brief time together, I find you most beautiful, even though you carry another man’s child. I plan to control this county once I buy up all the land that I possibly can, and I need a lovely, high-spirited woman at my side.”

“You damn vulture. These people around here are going to be forced to lose their land to you because their money is worthless. You prey on them like a hungry wolf stalking a trapped rabbit. I find you despicable.”

“And I find you enchanting…” He reached to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” she hissed, her body trembling in rage. “Don’t you ever come near me. I am cowering no more, not for you or anyone else.”

“Oh, come now, Kitty. You are being dramatic. You must learn to face reality. Do you want to give birth to a bastard? Do you want to continue to grovel in trash barrels for your food? I am offering you respectability, a home, a name for your child. You should be eager to accept.”

Kitty shook her head slowly. “You are mad, Corey McRae. I thought perhaps you had been nipping brandy before I happened along last night. Now I can see that in the daylight, completely sober, you are actually insane.”

He chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, eyes glittering with smoldering anger. Kitty did not wilt before his gaze. Instead, she gave her long strawberry-gold hair a flippant toss and turned to continue on her way. Corey’s hand shot out and gripped her arm so painfully that she cried out sharply, and, with her free arm, she brought her hand up in a stinging blow across his stunned face. “Now let me go,” she shrieked. “I want no part of you.”

He snapped his fingers, and two surly-looking characters came running across the street. Kitty reached inside the deep folds of her skirt, down into a pocket, and pulled out her father’s gun. Only that morning it had been dug out of its hiding place near his grave.

Backing against the wall of the hotel, she pointed the pistol at the men, but it was to Corey that she addressed her warning. “Be aware, sir, that I do not intend to be intimidated by you any further. I will not go along with your insane proposal, nor will you ever own my father’s land. I have been to General Schofield and demanded the back pay owed my father. Go and swoop down on the carcass of some other crippled Southerner. This one stands tall and unafraid.

“And you scoundrels would be wise to believe me when I assure you I know how to use this gun. Ask any of the townspeople, and they will tell you I am as skilled with a pistol or a rifle as any man about.”

She replaced the pistol in the deep pocket of her skirt, turned on her heel and continued on her way, head high.

“Damn almighty,” Jethro Quarry said to his boss. “What for in the world you want to go getting messed up with a feisty filly like that?”

“Because she is feisty.” Corey chuckled, watching Kitty strutting down the street. “And one day she will be mine. For the present, we will let her flounder on her own. She will come crawling to me sooner or later.”

He took his time removing a long, expensive cigar from a gold case and lit it. “Jethro, what do you know of Captain Coltrane?”

The rough-looking gunman spat a wad of tobacco into the street, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I told you all I could find out. They say he’s one of the best cavalrymen in the whole Union Army. If General Sherman had a job that needed doing, one that was practically impossible, he always ordered Coltrane to do it. And Coltrane never let him down. He and his men were the toughest there was.”

“Find him!”

Jethro blinked. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

Corey withdrew the cigar from his lips and gave him a withering glare. His lips trembled with anger as he barked, “I don’t give a damn how you do it. Just do it. Get Carl to go with you. He’s one of my best guns. Hire some new men to go with you, because I will be needing the ones I have working for me here. Find Coltrane and make sure he does not return to Wayne County.”