Love and Glory: The Coltrane Saga, Book 3 (23 page)

She was slowly regaining her composure. Propping herself up on her elbows, she crossed her long, slender legs and began to bounce one foot up and down playfully as she smiled. “You seem to forget, darling, that you don’t order me around. There are certain things
I
know about you, remember?”

He moved quickly, wrapping his fingers in her hair and yanking her up and off the bed. He pushed her down on her knees before him. “You won’t threaten me, woman. Not ever again. I find you in another man’s hotel room half naked, and you dare to be insolent? Go home at once and prepare yourself for the thrashing of your life. Then pray I don’t throw you out in the streets just as you are now and shout to the whole goddamn world what a slut you are!”

She looked to Travis. Surely he would not allow Jerome to bully her this way, not after what they had just shared.

She gasped. Travis had turned his back and was stepping into his trousers, reaching for his shirt, ignoring her. “Travis, please,” she begged.

Jerome slapped her, knocking her backward to crouch in terror on the floor. “Do as I say, Nancy, or I’ll kill you here and now.”

“I think he means it,” Travis murmured quietly, “and I hate all this going on in my room. Would you just go, Nancy?”

She scrambled to her feet, jerking on her dress in rapid movements, glancing wildly from one man to the other. She wanted to explode but Jerome was angrier than she had ever seen him. Later, when he had calmed down, she could wheedle her way around him, or resort to threats once more. But for the moment, there was nothing to do but get out quickly.

Dressed, she ran to the door and opened it, but humiliation got the better of her. Turning, she threw a hating glare at Travis and hissed, “I hope he kills you! You should know better than to seduce a married woman, you…you white trash!” She slammed the door behind her.

Travis slowly took a bottle of brandy from the bedside table and poured himself a drink. Gesturing to Danton, he casually offered, “Have one?”

Danton licked his lips nervously. “Yes, I will.” He waited for the drink to be poured, then downed it quickly and held out the empty glass for another.

Travis raised an eyebrow. “Do you need a drink to muster the courage to kill me?” he asked quietly. “You have every right, you know. Who would condemn you for killing me after walking in here and finding your wife? By the way, the door was locked. You had a key.”

“I did. I have connections. And I haven’t drawn my gun, have I?” He laughed, an empty, hollow sound. “Besides, you wouldn’t just stand there and let me kill you without a fight, would you?”

“Probably not.” Travis eyed him over his upturned glass as he took a swallow, then said, “It’s likely you would wind up being the one who got killed. So”—he set the glass down and folded his arms across his broad chest—“what do we do now?”

“I’m not here to quarrel with you, Coltrane. And I’m not defending Nancy’s honor. She has none. I found out quickly enough after we were married just what she is. But my marital problems are not your concern.” He took a deep breath and started for another drink, then decided against it. The two he had already consumed were making him woozy. He forced his eyes to meet Travis’. “I think it’s time you were told the truth about Kitty’s disappearance. After you hear it,
you
may want to kill
me.”

Travis tensed, every muscle in his body taut. He fought the impulse to grab the man. “Start talking,” he growled. “And you better talk fast, Danton.”

Jerome glanced about, spotted a rickety chair, then lowered himself into it, knees weak. Travis continued to stand, eyes narrowed. He looked like a wild animal, crouched and ready to strike.

Jerome began to talk, admitting that he had followed Kitty that night with the intention of seducing her. Travis’ eyes glittered but he maintained his stony silence.

Then he told of Nancy’s bursting into the deserted cabin, brandishing a gun.

“I don’t give a goddamn about Nancy, Danton,” Travis said tightly, the muscles in his jaw twitching ominously. “Just tell me what happened to Kitty. Nancy didn’t kill her. You’ve got more sense than to come here and tell me that. So talk, damn you.”

Danton licked his lips once more, swallowing hard. He began to speak quickly, words running together. He told Travis everything he knew, and what he had pieced together later.

“The man,” Travis said hoarsely. “Who was the man?”

“Tate,” Danton whispered. “Luke Tate.”

The roar that came from the depths of Travis Coltrane’s soul was like the death roar of a gored bull. The anguish, the fury, the overwhelming horror all exploded. Danton rose from the chair slowly, eyes wide with fear as he backed away toward the door. Just as he had touched the doorknob, the cry faded, and Travis whirled on him with wild eyes. “Get out of here, Danton!” he screamed. “Get out of here before I crush you with my bare hands! Get out! Now!”

Danton opened the door and charged out, straight into Sam Bucher, bouncing back as Sam stood rigid, gazing from him to Travis.

“What in hell is going on here?” Sam asked. “Damn, Travis, everybody in town could hear you yelling.”

Travis’ chest was heaving. He pointed at Danton but spoke to Sam. “Let him go. Let him get out of here or I’m going to kill him.”

Sam stepped back and Jerome scurried by, stumbling to his knees, righting himself, and pushing by the curious onlookers who had gathered in the hall.

Sam watched him, then gestured to the crowd. “Get out of here. All of you,” he commanded. “This ain’t none of your concern. Go on. Git!”

Mumbling among themselves, they began moving back down the stairs. Sam stepped inside the room and closed the door.

As soon as the door closed, Travis said, “He told me about Kitty.”

Travis turned wretched eyes on his lifelong friend and forced the anguished words through his lips: “Luke Tate’s got her, Sam.”

“Luke Tate!” Sam whispered, echoing the dreaded name. “No!”

“Oh, yes.” Travis began to pace up and down, slamming his fists together. He told Sam everything as quickly as he could.

“You should’ve killed Danton,” Sam said.

“No. He didn’t have to tell me,” Travis pointed out. “Besides, he’s worse off
alive, having to live with that bitch and with himself.”

Both were silent for a few moments, and then they faced each other, eyes locking, thoughts melding. Finally Travis spoke. “We leave tomorrow.”

Nothing else needed saying.

Chapter Twelve

Travis awoke with a shiver as a frigid mountain breeze whipped his blanket from his body. He lifted his head from his saddle, which was his pillow, and stared out at the great green span of valley below. A whispering mist danced just above the ground as the first light of morning reached out to claim the earth from darkness.

Wrapping his worn blanket around his body, Travis rolled over on his side, gaze hungry for the world around him. He loved this wilderness, the untouched beauty, the excitement of knowing that so much was yet to be discovered here.

He and Sam had started out intending to travel along the same route to Nevada that Luke Tate had probably taken. However, it quickly became obvious that it was foolhardy to try to track a man through seven states, especially through a vast wilderness. The thing to do, they decided, was to reach Nevada as quickly as possible, then search for Tate and Kitty, who had certainly arrived by then.

Until the Comstock Lode had been discovered, Nevada was like every other territory between the East and West coasts, merely a rough spot for gold seekers to pass through on their way to California.

Travis looked over at his friend, who slept soundly. It had been a long journey. This was the day they would, at last, reach Virginia City. It was none too soon, for the first winter snows had dusted them as they saw the Sierra Nevadas rising majestically on the southwestern horizon.

Sam had pointed out, “What can we expect but snow? That’s how Nevada got its name. It’s Spanish, meaning ‘snow-clad,’ so I reckon we’re due to see a lot of it.”

Travis thought how easy it would be to call this place home. There was a special kind of peace and beauty here. The lower desert areas were rife with mesquite, creosote, greasewood, and yucca. Cacti of all varieties abounded, and as they moved into higher elevations, they were surrounded by sagebrush and Joshua trees, as well as pines, firs, spruce, juniper, and mountain mahogany.

There were rugged mountains here and flat valleys with buttes and mesas and sandy desert regions all around. Travis marveled that, at one point, they would seem to be at the bottom of the earth, surrounded by sand and moving ever lower, only to be faced suddenly with a mountain peak reaching to heaven.

During the long, plodding ride, they had amused themselves by trying to identify the wildlife they encountered. They had seen most before, like deer and coyote and bobcats, but it took an old prospector to name the bighorn sheep and the pronghorn antelope.

Rabbits, horned toads, tortoises, there were plenty of those, and they came across more sidewinder rattlesnakes than they had ever seen before in their entire lives.

Sage grouse, pheasants, and quails were killed and roasted over campfires for their supper, and when they tired of those, they paused along the rivers and lakes for bass, trout, crappy, and catfish.

Travis smiled wryly as he recalled how Sam had cursed as they had moved through the Alkali Desert, heading into the Toiyabe Range. “I can’t believe they made this godforsaken wilderness our thirty-sixth state. And all because Lincoln figured its mineral wealth would help the Union.”

“What difference does it make?” Travis had asked, anxious to discuss anything that could take his mind off the worries he harbored over Kitty. “Lincoln also got something else he wanted—a Northern state to support his proposed antislavery amendments to the Constitution. Nevada Territory didn’t even have a fifth of the number of people needed for statehood, but Congress voted them into the Union in ’64.”

“But the Comstock Lode will change this wilderness,” Sam pointed out quickly. “You wait and see. There are more folks looking for silver in Nevada than there are looking for gold in California.

“And,” he had continued, casting a worried look in Travis’ direction, “if Tate told Nancy he was going to Nevada to find silver, you can bet he’ll be headed for Virginia City. It’s the biggest mining camp in the West.”

Travis stared out across the misty green world once more. The haze was clearing. Soon, he told himself, he would find Kitty and they would make a new life. Perhaps they would come back here one day after they went home to get their son. There was so much to be discovered here. In this place of awesome beauty, the past lay behind forever.

He looked over at Sam sleeping so peacefully. The old bear of a man would probably want to come too, and that was fine. Sam didn’t much care for North Carolina or the South anymore, either. Sam might even find a woman here and settle down himself, and then the four of them could…

A loud, anguished scream pierced the air and Travis sprang to his feet, grabbing his gun from beneath his saddle so fast he hardly knew what he was doing.

Sam awoke, instantly alert, glancing anxiously over at Travis. “What the hell was that?”

“It was no animal,” Travis called to him, “and it came from over there.” He nodded toward a distant butte, tugging on his boots, gun ready. Sam quickly joined him and they began to move stealthily toward the butte.

There was a second long, loud, agonized scream and the two men exchanged looks.

“Indians?” Travis offered.

Sam shook his head. “Don’t think so. I talked to that fellow at the last outpost, and he said they hadn’t had no trouble near here.”

“We’d better be careful. We might be next.” Travis held his rifle in his left hand, his pistol in his right. He could shoot with both at the same time, a talent acquired on horseback during the war.

They darted from one clump of sagebrush to another, ever alert. Twice more they heard the scream that raised the hair on the back of their necks. When they were near the sound, Travis motioned to Sam to move to his right, where thick clumps of cacti and juniper made a cover. “I’m going in,” Travis whispered.

Sam knew better than to argue. Travis always followed his own instincts. If something told him to be covert, he could move with the stealth of an Indian scout. But if his gut feeling was to charge right in, he would do so without hesitation. So far, he had never been wrong, but Sam knew there might be a first time…which could also be his last. Sam moved into position and waited. When Travis fired, Sam would run forward.

Travis crouched down behind a clump of sage and waited. He could hear the murmur of men talking, the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. When the next scream erupted, Travis sprang forward, blasting his guns. Taken by surprise, the men froze.

“Hold it!” Travis cried. Sam moved in from his right. The three men in the clearing glanced around wildly. One reached for his gun, but Travis fired, killing him instantly. “If you want to follow your buddy,” he warned the other two, “just move.”

He quickly took in the situation. One dead, two glaring at him, one holding a smoking poker near a small campfire. A fourth man lay naked, spread-eagled on the ground, hands and feet tied to stakes. Travis shuddered at the sight of the man’s burned flesh.