The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (28 page)

Jacob rocked back. “You ain’t thinkin’ about marryin’ either one of them two, is you?”

“No, no, of course not. But I do have to start thinking about a life without Travis. I can’t lose my land. I’m going to have to go into town and talk to the tax collector and see just how much I owe and what can be worked out. Maybe I can go to the bank and borrow what I need against next year’s crop. I’m not going to accomplish anything huddling before this fire. Will you stay with John tomorrow while I make a trip into town?”

“Well, how you think you gonna go? Walk? It’s miles to town, and don’t tell me you gonna stand on the road and wave some farmer down, ’cause soon as they see it’s you, they gonna keep right on goin’.”

“I’ll get a ride same as you do, Jacob, with your people. Some of the Negroes go into town every day. I’ll just stand at the road till someone comes by. I need to go into town because I’m going by General Schofield’s office and try once again to get a message to Travis by way of General Sherman.”

“It’s starting to sleet outside. The weather is gettin’ mighty bad. I don’t think you’ll be able to go for a day or two. You’d catch the fever standing out in the sleet, missy, and then how could you look after John if you’s sick in bed? I don’t know much about tendin’ babies.”

“Then I will wait until the weather clears.” She started rocking to and fro, intensely, as though the energy and spirit were building inside.

Jacob cleaned the turkey with water boiled in a kettle over the fire, then ran a spit through the bird and watched dutifully as it roasted over the flames. Kitty cooked some of the dried beans. Their dinner was tasty and filling for a change.

Jacob bundled up in his old frayed jacket and went outside to milk the cow before bedtime. They had housed the animal in one of the empty shacks to keep it from freezing. He returned with only a quarter of a bucket and said, “I guess ol’ Betsy’s just too cold to worry about giving milk.”

“She isn’t being fed properly,” Kitty commented worriedly. “If I can borrow some money at the bank, I’ll stop by the feed store and get some feed for her. We’ve got to have that milk for John.”

The wind howled through the long night, and the glass in the windows rattled, even though boards were nailed across on the outside. Kitty thought the roof was even shaking. She could hear the pelts of ice hitting the tin above, and she huddled down in the covers, holding little John against her body for warmth. How she wished she had been able to nurse him. Now her milk was long dried up, and they had to depend on the old cow. She stared into the darkness of the barren room, the fire illuminating the sparse furnishings with an eerie red glow.

The baby stirred, and she held him tighter, kissed his forehead. It was warm. She prayed it was from the blankets heaped upon them, the heat of her own body. “Don’t let him be sick. Don’t let anything happen to my baby,” she whispered into the darkness. “He’s all I have.”

And her tears splashed down onto his head, and she kissed them away, feeling more alone and lost than ever before.

As sleep came, her last whispered murmurings were to Travis. “We need you,” she cried softly. “Dear God, Travis, we need you so badly.”

Chapter Eighteen

Jacob, his face grimacing with disapproval, sat rocking little John before the crackling fire. His yellowed eyes were watching Kitty as she bundled herself up against the stabbing chill that waited beyond the closed door of the cabin. “Miss Kitty, I just don’t think you ought to go. You don’t know how long you gonna have to stand on that road before somebody come along, much less how long it gonna be till somebody comes by what will give you a ride.”

She was tying a shawl tightly about her head and shoulders, and she peered worriedly at the baby. “I have to try, Jacob. It’s been almost a week since Mr. Danton came, and I’ve got to borrow some money from the bank and see about those taxes. And I’ve also got to have some money to get a doctor out here to look at John. I don’t like the way that cold keeps hanging on. He wakes me at night, breathing so raspy, and you’ve heard him cough. It’s turning into a bad cold, and I know he needs medicine and more knowledge than I have.”

Jacob sighed, knowing it did no good to argue with his mistress when she had her mind set. He, too, would be very glad to see a doctor walk through that door. Little John was sick. If Nolie were here, he grieved, she would know what to do.

Ready at last, Kitty walked over to where Jacob sat and bent to kiss the baby’s forehead. “He’s so warm,” she murmured worriedly. “I’ll hurry, Jacob. I’ll try to be back this afternoon. It shouldn’t take me long at the bank or at the tax office, and then I’ll go find a doctor. I’ll pay him to drive me back out in his buggy.”

“You gonna ask about the captain?” Jacob raised his eyes to meet hers anxiously. “You got another letter ready to send to Gen’ral Sherman?”

“Yes, to both questions.” Her smile was forced. “Now I really have to leave, Jacob, so I can get back quickly. I’ll stop and buy a few things we need. How is the cow doing? Does she have any feed at all?”

“Mistah McRae sent some hay over last week—”

She was almost to the door, but she whipped her head about. “He did what? Jacob, you didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“I figured you had enough on your mind, what with the baby sick, missy. And I knows how mad you gets whenever Mistah McRae sends anything over.”

She bit her lip, decided to be on her way rather than discuss the situation. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, opening the door to face the icy blast of wind.

She had wanted to make her trip the day after Jerome Danton had made his visit, but the weather had taken a decided turn for the worse. Sleet continued to fall, covering the world about them with a thin sheet of ice. It was as though an artist had dipped his brush into liquid crystal, to paint everything about them into shimmering glory. Kitty acknowledged that the scene before her was beautiful, but it was also ominous.

Stepping carefully among the icy ruts, she looked at the stark, frozen ground, thinking what a dismal sight it actually was. It was as though the earth had never yielded a living growth of any sort, and never would again. She felt as though the whole world were dead, and she the only survivor.

Finally she reached the edge of the empty, lonely road, and as she stood there waiting, she could feel the cold all the way to her bones. A long time went by, maybe two hours, as she stamped her feet and jumped about, trying to keep her blood warm. At last she heard the welcome clopping sound of hooves breaking against the icy ground, and a carriage came into view. She began to wave frantically, and as it moved closer, she recognized the Frank Thompson family.

He leaned forward to stare down at her with squinted eyes. “Well, Kitty Wright. What in tarnation are you doing out here in the freezing cold, standing by the side of the road?”

“I need a ride into town, Mr. Thompson,” Kitty pleaded. “My baby is sick, and I’ve got to find a doctor.”

Frank’s wife, Adele, stiffened beside him, her hawk nose turning skyward as she snapped, “I’ll not have that white trash ride in our carriage, Frank. Get along now.”

Frank rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. “Now, Adele, Kitty ain’t never done us no harm, and you heard her say her baby’s sick. What would it hurt for her to ride in the back of the wagon?”

“Mrs. Thompson, I don’t have a horse or a mule, and I have to get to Goldsboro. Please, just let me ride in the back.” She was begging, for she was not too proud to humble herself when it came to her baby.

Adele glared at her, the hate and disgust shimmering so strongly that Kitty took a step backward, shocked to see such a look in the woman’s eyes. “You think we’d ride into Goldsboro with the likes of you in our carriage?” she screamed. “Everyone knows what you are, Kitty Wright. Trash! White trash! If your bastard baby is sick, it’s God’s punishment on you for your sins. It wasn’t enough you got a fine man like Nathan Collins killed, then got yourself in the family way by the man who murdered him. You had to flaunt your sin by staying here, unmarried, and letting everyone know what you are.”

Frank touched his wife’s arm, gave her a shake. “Adele, that’s enough.”

She shook free of his hold. “No, that’s not enough. She had to give refuge to a nigra outlaw, and the Klan burned her out, and she still didn’t learn her lesson. Get along now, Frank. I don’t want to be seen talking to the likes of her.”

“She helped us once when one of our boys was sick, Adele,” Frank said, his voice sympathetic. “Seems the least we could do is give her a ride into town. It’s awful cold for her to be standing out here this way.”

Adele’s face had turned red with rage at Frank’s reference to their son. “If she’s so smart with helping the sick, let her help her own,” she shrieked. “As for helping Paul, she only saved him to go off to war and get killed by a Yankee, maybe even by the hand of her traitorous father, or her Yankee lover. I’ll not have it, I say.”

She jerked the whip from her husband’s hand, catching him off guard. Kitty thought she meant to crack the lash over the horses’ backs to speed them on their way, but, just in time, she realized the woman was about to bring it down on her. Stumbling in her haste to get away, Kitty fell to the ground. She felt the flesh ripping from her palms against the ice, just as the zinging leather whip landed only inches from her face.

“Woman, have you gone mad?” Frank Thompson was wrestling with his wife, yanking the whip from her roughly. “When we get back home tonight, you got a beatin’ comin’, for sure. The very idea, you taking a whip to that poor girl. You crazy or something?”

“I’ll not ride with her. I’ll get out of this wagon first. What will my friends think? Nancy Stoner is my third cousin, and she told me how this…this harlot ruined her engagement to Corey McRae. And don’t you threaten me with any beating, Frank Thompson! Now get those horses moving.”

Kitty picked herself up from the ground with as much dignity as she could muster. Her hands hurt fiercely, and so did her knees. She knew she must have scraped them also on the ice, but she wasn’t about to let either of them know she was injured. Looking into Frank’s eyes, she said coolly and evenly, “Thank you for your concern, but you had best ride on. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

Then her violet eyes glittered with sparks of angry red as she turned them upon his wife. The woman actually shriveled away from her in sudden fright. “I guess I’m particular about who I ride with, anyway.” Kitty’s voice was as icy as the world about them. “So I prefer to wait for another carriage. As for your cousin, Mrs. Thompson, I think you should know she was never engaged to Corey McRae, and he had no intentions of marrying her. She was his mistress. She lived with him in sin. He told me so himself.”

“That’s a lie,” Adele screamed indignantly as Frank popped the whip and the horses began moving forward. She turned all the way around in the seat to keep yelling. “White trash like you always try to run down decent folk. I know what you are, Kitty Wright. You’re not fit to live among decent folk.”

Kitty stood there, shaking her head slowly from side to side, shoulders slumped. She would have liked to say more, maybe do a little name-calling herself, but, by God, she was not going to let them reduce her to their level.

Another hour or so passed while Kitty paced up and down in the cold. If someone didn’t come soon, she knew she would have to return to the cabin and try again the next day. And time was so precious. Then, a blessing, the sound of horses clopping along broke the dead silence. This time an old Negro was holding the reins as he sat on the wooden seat of a rickety old wagon. She recognized him as a worker on the McRae plantation.

She waved her arms frantically, and when he stopped, she asked for a ride into town. He held out his brown hand to help her up into the wagon.

On the ride into town they talked about the workers Kitty knew. This one, Ben, told her that everyone was fine. Dulcie, he said, would be happy to have word from her, but she would be upset to hear that the baby was sick. “And so will Mistah McRae. Dulcie say he misses that baby somethin’ fierce. I heard her tellin’ my missus about it. She say he told her that baby makes him want to get married and start havin’ young’uns of his own. She say he got real sad when you took him and went home. She say Mistah McRae miss you, too, Miss Kitty.”

“That’s kind of him,” she murmured, a bit surprised to hear that Corey admitted to missing little John. It touched her, but then, some men, no matter how strong or powerful, were moved by babies. Perhaps Corey McRae was one of these. Maybe there was truly another side to him.

“I’ll be comin’ back soon’s I get some supplies,” Ben said as they got nearer to town. “I can wait around and take you back.”

“I’m hoping to find a doctor and bring him back with me, Ben. I’ve got to. I’m worried about John. It’s kind of you to offer, though, and if you’re still around and if I can’t find the doctor, I’ll accept your offer gratefully. But don’t wait on my account, please. You have your obligations to return to Mr. McRae’s as soon as you finish your business in town.”

He gave her a big grin, displaying skillfully carved wooden teeth. “The boss man wouldn’t mind me waitin’ up a bit to help you out, Miss Kitty. Naw, suh, he sho wouldn’t.” Then he laughed as though he knew a secret.

The old Negro got down off the wagon and moved around to help her. Thanking him once more, she looked about and saw that the town really did look deserted.