Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 (6 page)

“They were almost betrothed…” she went on, stepping back as though she couldn’t bear to be any closer to her, eyes accusing.

Kitty, like her father, could only be pushed so far, and she never allowed herself to be backed up at all when she was completely innocent. “I didn’t ask Nathan,
he
asked me,” she said curtly. “If your niece is heartbroken, then maybe she saw more in her relationship with him than actually existed. He certainly didn’t act as if he were doing something he shouldn’t when he invited me to go with him.”

They glared at each other. “Now, are you going to show me some more dresses, or would you rather I take my business elsewhere?” Kitty demanded.

In silent anger, Nancy Warren’s aunt moved about the shop gathering up the ugliest dresses she could find. One was even a black bombazine, and Kitty bit her tongue to keep from saying cattily that Nancy should wear such a garment since she seemed to be in need of a mourning dress.

Afterward, she told herself if she had not been so annoyed, she never would have chosen such a provocative dress. But when she tried it on, twisting about in front of the mirror, the reflection on the other woman’s face told her quite plainly that here was the dress that would make everyone at the party turn their heads in her direction. The menfolk would envy Nathan and the women would be seething with jealousy. Nathan, himself, would be wild with desire for her—she was positive.

The dress was made of bright, blood-red taffeta, and against her creamy white skin and golden-blond hair, the effect was stunning. Her violet eyes seemed to attract the crimson and dance with secret fires. The décolletage was daringly low, and her large, firm breasts were pushed high by the stays—a slight hint of her rosy-pink nipples showing provocatively.

This was the dress!

She also bought lace pantalets, a linen corset cover, and four billowing lace and linen petticoats. Sullen-faced, the shopkeeper bundled the items and pushed them across the counter.

As Kitty left the store, the sun was starting to go down, and she realized that she had been gone longer than planned. Hurrying to the wagon, she saw eight or nine men surrounding her father, and she hesitated. Why, she wondered in dismay, couldn’t these people just leave her father alone?

Kitty had worked herself into anger by the time she reached the wagon. A few of the men glanced in her direction, but it was obvious they had been drinking, and the presence of a lady had no effect upon the situation at hand. John was standing near the hitching post, trying to be heard above the hooting, as he attempted to explain his stand.

“I don’t claim to be a Federalist, and I’m certainly no Yankee. I was born right here in Wayne County just as all of you were. I’m only trying to tell you that war will not be easily won. A lot of good men will be killed—a lot of land lost and destroyed. And for what?”

He was almost pleading, gesturing helplessly as he said, “If the South loses, what will happen? Have you thought of that possibility?”

Kitty had placed her packages in the wagon bed and hoisted herself up to the wooden bench. Appraising the situation, she counted nine men surrounding her father, and none of them shared his views. She knew one of them—Aaron Collins’s overseer, Luke Tate, a known troublemaker who loved to fight, and who once beat a slave to death with a whip.

John Wright had stretched his tall, lanky frame to his full six feet of height, and he was waving his long, thin arms back and forth over his head, pleading once again to be heard. “North Carolina can remain neutral, don’t you see? We can stay out of the war. How many of you own slaves, anyway? Luke, you’re just an overseer…”

“You let your slaves go, didn’t you, Wright?” Luke cried, to the delight of those around him, who were cheering him on. “You set them free, didn’t you? I’ll bet you even help runaways through the underground, don’t you? I’ll bet you’re even a spy for the Federals…”

“Now wait a minute, Luke.” John forced a laugh, trying to quell the rising emotions. “You’re carrying this too far now. You came up to me while I was standing here minding my own business and started this whole thing. Now you call me a spy! I think it’s time we ended this conversation. I just hate to see all of you listen to the ‘fire-eaters’ who’re going to bring war and bloodshed to the South…”

“
You
wait a minute,” Luke snarled, lips curling. “I ain’t got no use for them what don’t stick up for their neighbors, and this is what I think of you…”

And he spat in John’s face contemptuously.

A shocked hush fell over the crowd as the brown, tobacco-stained spittle ran slowly down John’s cheek. Kitty threw her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream.

The two men glared at each other, John’s fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he fought for control, his body shuddering. Then, very swiftly, he snatched a handkerchief from the pocket of his overalls, and wiped the spit from his face with a quick swipe.

Luke had mistaken the movement, and, thinking John was reaching for a weapon, had brought out his knife with a quick jerk. The steel gleamed ominously in the fading sunlight.

“Come on, Luke, he ain’t got no knife,” someone yelled.

It happened quickly. Luke brought his knee up to smash into John’s crotch. John fell, and Luke kicked him viciously in the stomach as he writhed painfully in the dirt, clutching himself with both hands.

He brought his leg back again, ready to kick at the face this time, but Kitty had come out of her shocked stupor and reached down to snatch up her father’s flintlock musket that was lying at her feet. She screamed at Luke just as his broganed foot went smashing into the side of John’s head.

“She’s got a gun!” one of the men shouted, and everyone scattered as Luke turned toward Kitty. He was still holding his knife, and he lurched toward her just as she pointed the musket and fired.

His body seemed to leap backward into the crowd that was fighting each other to run for cover. They stopped, eyes fixed on Luke as he sank to the ground. Suddenly, he was no longer a part of them…or they, a part of him. They wanted no part of the fight, or the girl with the gun that she obviously knew how to use.

Kitty quickly reached for the powder flask to fill the primer pan and reload, but a big, beefy hand closed over her arm as a gruff voice said, “I’ll take over now, Miss Kitty.”

She looked into the grim eyes of the sheriff.

John moaned, struggling to get up, and someone reached to help her down as she moved quickly to get to him.

“I’m all right, just bruised a bit,” he said to her. His eyes went anxiously to where Luke Tate lay on his side, blood oozing from the hole in his right shoulder. Luke clutched at it with his left hand, blood trickling between his fingers as he groaned in pain.

Footsteps were running toward them. Kitty saw a man with a black bag, gratefully recognizing Doc Musgrave. He rushed over to John, who waved him toward Luke. “He’s hit, Doc. I’ll be okay.”

Some of the men helped the doctor take Luke away to his office, and a few stood about watching Kitty help her father to the wagon. “I want you to let Doc check you over,” she said anxiously.

“No, I just want to go home and get out of this mess. I think half the town is drunk.”

She helped him up to the seat, then untied the mule and climbed up herself. Her father slumped next to her as she snapped the reins and started them rolling down the street. A few people watched as they passed, and Kitty recognized the storekeeper where she had bought her dress, glaring at her.

Kitty’s mind was in a whirl. She had shot a man! She had actually pointed a gun at a human being and fired! It all seemed unreal now. When she had fired, it hadn’t mattered whether she killed Luke or not. Fortunately for him, the ball went in his shoulder, and he had his life, and she didn’t have to have his death on her conscience.

“Well, you did it, girl,” her father spoke finally when they were outside of town and headed down the road for home. “You shot a man.”

He sounded reproachful, and she shot a quick glance at him. “I had no choice, Poppa. He had a knife.”

“I know, I know.” He sounded very old…very tired. “I guess trouble was bound to come, I appreciate what you did for me, Kitty, but I wished it hadn’t happened. Nothin’ good ever comes from fighting.”

“Poppa, you
never
fight,” she said bluntly, unable to keep silent about it any longer. “Jacob tells me how the men goad you, but you just walk away. If you’d get mad just one time and break a few skulls open…”

He laughed. “Now that’s a fine way for a young lady to be talking. What would your momma say if she heard you?”

They looked at each other, realization washing over them simultaneously. Lena Wright was going to have the biggest fit of her whole life when she heard that Kitty had shot a man.

“Let her!” Kitty burst out, and they both laughed at their exchange of silent thoughts.

Then the humor passed, and Kitty pursued the subject. “Poppa, why don’t you fight?”

Sighing, he rubbed at his bloodied cheek. “There’s a lot about your old poppa you don’t know, girl,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s time you knew, so you won’t think I’m a coward.”

And he told her—about another argument, but that time he had been younger, and he had left home to make his own way. He had wanted to be free and explore life before settling down on the family land to farm for the rest of his life.

John wound up in the mountains of North Carolina, and he got to drinking with another man one night. They got into an argument and went at each other with knives. When it was over, the stranger lay dead in a pool of thickening blood, and John realized he didn’t even know his name.

Kitty shuddered, but he didn’t notice.

“I couldn’t even remember what in thunderation we were arguing about—what was so important that I got riled to the point of slashing that man’s throat from ear to ear! We had camped out in the woods, and nobody knew it happened, so I just buried him in an unmarked grave and got out of there and came home. For a while, I drank myself into a stupor, trying to forget, but then I realized I was killing myself. So I settled down, married your ma, and tried to put it out of my mind.

“But it comes back.” He passed a hand over his eyes, as though trying to wipe away the pain and torture of his sin. “Every time I find myself getting riled to fight, I close my eyes and see that dead stranger’s eyes staring up at me, his throat gaped open with white bone showing…”

“Poppa, stop!” She fought the impulse to retch.

He shook himself and came back to the present. Reaching over to touch her arm, his voice was gentle. “I’m sorry, Kitty. I didn’t mean to upset you, child. I just thought you should know why I don’t want to get in a fight. I can’t have you thinking me a coward, especially now, with things like they are.”

“Maybe the war won’t come,” she said, childlike, as though wishing might make it come true. “Maybe the war won’t come, and everyone can go on living like they have been, and there won’t be any bloodshed.”

He didn’t speak. She turned to look at him and saw his brow furrow, his eyes shadowed with fear.

“Poppa, what is it?” she asked in alarm. “You
are
hurt, aren’t you?”

She started to pull up on the reins, but he motioned her to keep going. “I’m all right,” his voice was tight. “It just sounds very sad to hear you wishing for things that just aren’t going to happen, Kitty. War
is
coming.”

Forcing a smile, she said, “Maybe not, Poppa. Maybe it’s all just talk. Maybe…”

“Shut up!”

He ground out the words so forcefully that Kitty yanked on the reins, stopping the old mule as she turned to stare at him incredulously. Never had her father spoken so sharply to her.

“Stop living in your dream world, Kitty,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched in his lap. “You’ve heard me talk about the situation. I told you what was going on. Don’t pretend you don’t know all the signs point to war. You’re not like the other women about, who refuse to face up to reality.”

He opened his eyes, and Kitty saw tears glimmering in them. “When the war comes, girl, I want you to be ready. I want you to be able to look after yourself if anything happens to me…”

Kitty was bewildered. What had come over her father for him to sound so…so
desperate!

He seemed to realize that she just didn’t understand.

His voice was low with dread. “Lincoln was elected president yesterday, Kitty. I heard the news today. I don’t believe anything can stop the South from seceding from the Union now and heading straight into war…and
hell
.”

Chapter Four

When Nathan came by to find out whether or not Kitty would go to the party with him, he made it a point to speak to John Wright and apologize for the incident in town with his father’s overseer. John had gruffly told him to forget about it—the matter was closed.

“I can’t believe you actually shot him,” he had said to Kitty, his gaze upon her a mixture of surprise and respect, “Most young ladies would have fainted.”

“I’m not most young ladies.” She had smiled demurely, teasingly, no longer embarrassed over the incident despite her mother’s continued nagging over such a “scandal”.

Voice husky, he had whispered, “How well I know, Kitty,” eyes moving over her caressingly. Kitty had embraced that moment for the remaining, seemingly endless, days until the party.

When the day finally arrived, she sat beside Nathan in the carriage, well aware that her dress had achieved the effect she was seeking. “God, you’re beautiful, Kitty,” he whispered, slipping an arm about her shoulders as he signaled to the driver to be on his way. “I’ll be the envy of every man at the party.”

She felt suddenly warm, but then heard the echo of her mother’s predictions about the Collins family’s reaction to what had happened in town, and said, “Nathan, did your parents have anything to say about your taking me to the party after they heard about the shooting?”

She saw a muscle tighten in his jaw, and a shadow passed across his eyes momentarily. His smile, she thought, was forced. “We talked about it, Kitty, and for a while, I have to be honest with you, they were upset. But then I told them about my conversation with someone who witnessed the whole thing, and their attitude changed. We all regret that it happened, and Daddy had a lot to say to Luke about it.”