Romance Classics (89 page)

Scott grinned as he put the letter down. Liss was happy. Chloe was happy. And he need no longer worry about Chloe's return to Hamilton or any suggestion that she would like the engagement to be resumed.

The summer slid by and the long, lovely Indian summer that was winter in this sheltered Southern clime began. Scott was working. He was contented. He felt that he was definitely getting ahead, in all ways save one; and that was in his effort to learn something definite about the Ku Klux Klan with which he could go to the authorities and demand decisive action.

Late one night in early October, he had had the unaccustomed luxury of getting to bed by ten o'clock. He was tired and he slept dreamlessly, until suddenly he was awakened by the sound of something thumping at the front door. Awake instantly, he leaped out of bed, but before he could answer the summons at the front door, he became aware of a strangely brilliant light that illuminated his room. Too bright for moonlight, too steady and white to be the headlights of a car, it drew him to the window, where he looked out on an unbelievable scene.

Full in the center of the small lawn, stood a four-foot-high cross, blazing furiously. Beyond it in the brilliant light of that blazing cross, he saw a group clad in hoods and long white robes. It was his first sight of a Ku Klux Klan in full regalia, and for a moment it held him spellbound.

The ghostly figures in the blazing white light were motionless. Fifteen or twenty in number, they were lined up watching the cross, making no sound, no movement. And Scott, feeling the brisk surge of anger that rose within him, sensed what a terrifying sight that would be to the usual Klan victims.

But for himself there was no fear; just an angry determination to see the faces of one or two of these men at the least. If he could learn the identity of one or two, caught red-handed at the scene of a demonstration, then he would have something which he could use as evidence. He felt sure that if pressure were brought to bear on such men, positively identified, some action would have to be taken by the authorities.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he was jerking on his trousers, thrusting his bare feet into soft leather moccasins, and slipping silently down the hall to the back door. There was a low privet hedge between this cottage and the one next door.

All but holding his breath, he slipped across the drive and managed to reach the shelter of the hedge. And then, bending low, moving as stealthily as some wild creature, he crept down the hedge to the sidewalk. The brilliant flare of the blazing cross was dying down now and there was a little stirring among the group of men — low-voiced murmurs as they prepared to depart, their work of intimidation supposedly over.

At that moment, moving swiftly, silently, Scott leaped toward the nearest man, catching him from behind, ripping the hood from his face as the man swore and whirled around. For a moment, the man goggled at him, too surprised for action; and Scott saw his face.

“Well, hello! Joe Blake, isn't it?” said Scott happily.

The man swore and leaped at him. Others, hearing the man's oath, whirled, and Scott, fighting with everything he had, went back beneath the onslaught of fists and feet. For a moment he was conscious; and then a heavily booted toe struck viciously against his knee and he went down and stayed down….

He came back to consciousness slowly and reluctantly. He ached from head to foot and there was some sort of stricture about his left leg. He touched it experimentally and discovered that it was a bandage.

By now he had managed to get his eyes open and to discover that he was in bed in a small, white-walled room. And a moment later there was the crisp rattle of a starched uniform and a nurse bent above him, smiling at him.

“Good morning, Doctor Etheridge. And how are we feeling this morning?” she asked cheerfully, with the professional good cheer that most patients find very annoying.

“A bit rocky,” he admitted frankly.

“Well, naturally, you were pretty well beaten up, and it's an outrage,” said the nurse, and swiftly controlled her unprofessional anger. “Here's Doctor Searcy. He's very anxious to talk to you a minute if you feel like talking.”

“Sure. Hello, Doctor Searcy.” Scott's voice sounded a trifle faint and he was a little embarrassed by it.

“Well, well, my boy. Mighty glad to see you're feeling a little more chipper,” said Doctor Searcy and his eyes were anxious and harassed. “This is an outrage. But we're really going to town on them from here on out.”

“That's good news,” said Scott quickly. “It makes the whole thing more worthwhile.”

“I don't suppose you could identify any of them?”

“Only one. Joe Blake,” answered Scott, and Doctor Searcy rose, nodding.

“Well, just relax now and get well. Joe Blake, eh? That's nice going, Scott, my boy; nice going.”

“Look here, how long am I going to be laid up?” asked Scott anxiously.

“Oh, a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, but see here, I've got work to do.”

Doctor Searcy grinned at him, amused. “And if you don't mind my pointing it out, son, you're in no shape to do anything but lie there and let that bad knee and a series of as fine contusions and bruises as I've ever seen heal up,” he pointed out. “As for your patients, don't worry. We have a couple of thoroughly competent men here at the hospital, and I assure you your patients are in good hands.”

“Thanks a million; that takes a load off my mind.”

“I thought it would,” said Doctor Searcy, and went out.

Scott became conscious of the sunshine that spilled through the window. Of the masses of flowers grouped about the room, so fresh and crisp, that he knew they must have been delivered just that morning. He could relax in the knowledge that at least one man of that mob had been identified, and if arrested would undoubtedly give the names of others, unwilling to suffer alone….

Scott's first visitors were Tim Ryan and Kate, and he welcomed them warmly, his eyes lingering happily on Kate. She carried an armful of fresh cut flowers from the gardens at River's Edge, and as she handed them to the nurse, she smiled anxiously at Scott.

“We've been terribly worried about you,” she told him as she bent above him. “You've given us all a terrific scare. But we are also very proud of you.”

Scott's hand clung to hers a little longer than was strictly necessary and his eyes saw the faint tinge of color that crept into her cheeks.

“Proud of me? That I can't see. I'm afraid I failed to cover myself with glory,” he confessed ruefully.

“That's where you're mistaken, Scott,” said Tim quietly. “The whole county is up in arms about what's happened to you. The aroused citizenry are holding indignation meetings from one end of the county to the other, and the word is out that the Klan must go! There are rewards for information as to the identity of even one member, and the rewards are growing. A few thousand dollars can buy a lot of information against even such an outfit as the Klan.”

“They are bringing in private detectives to see what information they can dig up, and there's a rumor that the federal investigators are already here, working under cover,” Kate chimed in, her eyes bright and eager. “And there's a warrant out for Joe Blake, but so far they haven't managed to catch up with him. They will, though, I'm sure of it. So you see, Scott, why we are so proud of you.”

Tim smiled down at him. “I don't think you quite realize, Scott, how popular you are in these parts. The Klan couldn't have selected a man in the whole county whose attack could have stirred up more of a hornet's nest. The general thought seems to be, if the Klan can endanger the life of a man as fine and as vital to the welfare of the community as Doctor Etheridge, then the Klan must go, for nobody will be safe!”

Scott beamed happily. “That makes the bruises much less painful. I'm practically a well man this minute.”

“Well, you behave yourself and do what Doctor Searcy tells you and we'll see you again soon,” said Tim, and drew Kate with him out of the room.

They were only the first of his visitors; and there were many more as the days sped past and his injuries faded. It warmed his heart to realize that he was popular and well-liked and respected. It made him all the more contented, the more determined that Hamilton should be his home throughout the rest of his life….

On his first day free of the hospital, he dined at River's Edge. It was a gala occasion, though only Tim and Kate and Jane were there.

“I feel very much — and quite undeservedly — the conquering hero,” Scott laughed when dinner was over and they were back in the living room. “The way things are falling out, the county ought to be rid of the Klan by Christmas.”

“It's a goal to fight for,” agreed Tim.

Jane had excused herself on the plea of household affairs, and Tim, a little nervous and restless, jumped up suddenly and said quickly, “I just remembered. I have to make a phone call. Excuse me, Scott.”

Kate's color rose a little but she laughed as the door closed behind her father.

“One thing I can always boast of, I never have any trouble getting rid of my chaperones when I have a date,” she laughed. “Of course I admit they aren't too subtle about it.”

She eyed Scott steadily and when he did not speak she laughed a small, slightly unsteady laugh and said, “And I see no reason why I should complain of their lack of subtlety when I can just barely spell the word.”

Scott watched her, and there was something in the very silence and stillness of the room that seemed to pull them together; something that drew them to each other as irresistibly as steel is drawn to a magnet.

Whether he rose first and drew her up into his arms, or whether it was she who rose to draw him up, neither of them ever knew. They knew only that all of a sudden they were together, their arms close about each other, and Kate's flushed face was lifted to his, her soft mouth offered for his embrace. For a long, lovely moment they clung to each other.

“Oh, Scott, my dearest, and I thought I'd lost you,” she whispered, shaken.

“Kate, darling, darling — ” Scott drew her close and kissed her hard and then put her a little away from him, his face white and twisted. “This is crazy business, dearest. I'm a penniless country doctor; you're an heiress.”

To his amazement, dark anger blazed in Kate's eyes and for a moment she stood tensely, her hands clenched into small hard fists.

“Why, you insufferable snob!” she said through her teeth, genuinely angry. “Do you think for one minute you're going to kiss me like that and then walk out on me, for no other reason than that my father piled up a lot of money? Do you think I'm going to let you get away with that? If you do, you're crazy, that's all!”

“But, darling — why, it doesn't even make sense.”

“Who the heck cares whether love makes sense? When did it ever?” she flung at him furiously. “Do you think I'm going to be all sweet and ladylike and sit with my hands folded and my eyes demurely downcast while I watch you make a fool of yourself with someone else like Chloe Parham? Well, think again, mister. You're darned well going to marry me, and like it.”

Scott gave a little exultant shout of laughter and caught her close in his arms once more and held her tightly.

“Darling! Shut up! Stop screaming at me! You know I'm crazy about you.”

She eyed him suspiciously, her feathers still ruffled.

“And how would I be knowing that? You've never said anything about it,” she pointed out dryly, holding herself stiff in his arms.

“Aren't women supposed to know those things sort of by instinct?”

She hooted at him derisively.

“By instinct my eye! Did Chloe Parham know you were in love with her by instinct?”

Scott hesitated and then he said wryly, “I think it must have been something like that. I swear I can't remember proposing, though of course I must have.”

“I wouldn't be too sure about it. After all, ladies have been known to do the asking,” sniffed Kate. And suddenly the anger went out of her and she melted into his arms and clung to him tightly. “Oh, darling, you haven't had a chance, have you? First Chloe shot you down and now I'm trying to do the same thing. It isn't fair, darling. I'll let you go, if you really want me to. Just get out and don't even look back.”

“You precious ninny,” said Scott tenderly. “Look, dearest, I know now that I've really been in love with you, not Chloe, all along. I swear I don't know how I ever got side-tracked.”

“Don't you? I do; I know Chloe,” said Kate firmly.

“Well, anyway, I'd never dare ask you to marry me, Kate, while I am just a penniless nobody. And I can't ask you to wait for me.”

“You needn't bother, for I wouldn't, anyway. I think it's silly wasting time, and when you're young as we are is when love is best,” said Kate eagerly. “Look, darling, it's not my fault that Dad has a lot of money. Money's nice to have and there are so many wonderful things you and Dad can do with it, and you're a couple of swell guys who would want to. But what's that got to do with you and me? I'd love you just as much if I didn't have a dime; and if you want it like that, we'll go somewhere and live on your earnings and I'll never even let Dad buy me so much as a postage stamp. And why are we wasting all this time talking about money? It's indecent, when two people have just this minute got engaged.”

She drew back and eyed him anxiously.

“That is, we have got engaged, haven't we?” she begged for assurance, her face flushed, her eyes anxious.

And Scott, laughing, held her close and hard and gave her the one answer she could possibly have wanted! — a kiss that was a promise and a jubilee all rolled into one.

This edition published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.