Love and Glory: The Coltrane Saga, Book 3 (4 page)

“I just have to keep telling myself that in the end, we will all be happier, Lottie. That’s what keeps me going. I live for the day when I can tell him it was all an act, that I never meant the things I said to him.”

“Like I said,” the old Negro sighed once more, “I just hope you knows what you is doin’.”

You could not hope that any more than I do, Kitty thought. It had been sheer, living hell. Once it began, it got worse every day. She and Travis snapped at each other constantly. Nights found them not daring to touch in bed. How long since he had held her tightly and made her body sing with the joy of his passion? Not since that day in the woods, that day when she had finally seen how miserable she had made his life.

“How’d you get him to agree to go to that party tonight?” Lottie wanted to know. “Mastah Travis hates parties and balls.”

“No, that’s not true,” Kitty said, turning back to the mirror. “During the war, Travis went to military balls when his presence as an officer was required. It’s just that here he’s all too aware of how people in Wayne County feel about him.”

“I know. That hussy, Nancy Danton, ain’t never let nobody forget that Mastah Travis killed Mastah Nathan. But he deserved to die, just like Mastah McRae. She’ll be at that party tonight, makin’ trouble just like always.”

Kitty nodded, then asked, “Did she ever mention Travis or me when you worked for her, Lottie?”

Lottie snorted. “I didn’t work for her long. She can’t keep help, though the good Lord knows my people need work. She and Mastah Danton about the only folks around here what can afford to hire help, but even so, nobody can stand them. But yes’m, she did mention you. Lots. She knowed I worked for you when you was married to Mastah McRae. She was all the time sayin’ ugly things, like she was gonna see you run out of town. That woman’s crazy. Don’t nobody like her.”

“I can believe that, but, unfortunately, her husband is quite wealthy and powerful, and Nancy can get away with a lot. She’s the social queen of Goldsboro, and if she blacklists anyone, they can find themselves dropped from everyone’s invitation list. People cater to Nancy. I wonder,” she added thoughtfully, “if she even knows I will be at the hospital charity ball tonight.”

“Hmph,” Lottie snorted again, louder this time. “That busybody knows ever’thing. She knows you’re gonna be there, and she’s probably got them claws of hers real sharp, just for you.

“What me and my people ain’t never understood,” Lottie went on, reaching to smooth the folds of Kitty’s dress, “is why she keeps on a’hatin’ you. Everybody knows Mastah Nathan never loved her and wouldn’t have married her, nohow. Then she went after Mastah McRae like the hussy she is, and she even went after Mastah Travis.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Kitty turned away, a familiar stab making her quiver. She would never be able to forget the night she found Nancy naked in Travis’ arms in a Goldsboro hotel room. Kitty had been married to Corey at the time. Travis despised her and refused to believe she had married Corey only because she was destitute and left with a baby, Travis’ baby. It was a scene that was carved in her heart forever, Travis’ strong, sensuous body, naked and glistening as he held Nancy in his arms. She shuddered.

“I see you’re ready and anxiously waiting.”

Travis’ voice was like ice.

Kitty turned to face him, and Lottie scurried back into the kitchen, where John was playing at eating supper. Travis was dirty, sweaty, and his face showed the deep fatigue of long hours toiling in the sun.

Her heart went out to him, but she forced herself to stand stiffly away from him. She spoke crisply. “Yes, I am ready, Travis. It’s been a long time since I was able to dress nicely and go to a ball and enjoy myself.”

His lips twisted. “And wearing a dress your late husband bought for
you, I imagine. I certainly haven’t been able to buy you anything like that.”

She twirled, hating herself as she preened. “You used to tell me I was beautiful, Travis. Don’t you like the gown? Won’t you be proud to have me by your side tonight?”

A shadow crossed his face as he whispered painfully, “I would rather have you naked in the hayloft tonight, Kitty, than show you off to those hypocrites. Why do you insist that we go?”

“It was by special invitation of Dr. Sims,” she answered, not meeting his gaze, not able to bear the hurt she knew was there. “It’s the annual charity ball for the hospital, and he especially requested that I be there.”

She hated lying. Actually, she had asked Dr. Sims to invite her. That had been no problem, for he was quite pleased. When she told him of her scheme, Dr. Sims tried to talk her out of it, but he knew from experience that once Kitty’s mind was made up, she could be amazingly stubborn. So he had given in to her plan, though reluctantly.

“You know I don’t want to go.” Travis was coldly angry.

“If you don’t take me, I will go alone.”

The sound of his fist smashing against the wall made her jump. She saw the flashing red dots in his eyes and she flinched. “Kitty, goddamn it, girl, what’s come over you lately? I swear, I’ve never seen a person change so quickly. You seemed happy before, and now…God knows, I’ve tried.” He shook his head, looked at the reddening bruises on his fist, and said, “Hell, I have to go with you. You’re just contrary enough to take off by yourself in that old wagon, and a woman has no business on these roads at night by herself. But we won’t stay long, understand? And if there’s any trouble from that bitch Nancy Danton or her bastard husband, we’re leaving, understand? And if you don’t go when I say go, you can get home any way you know how.”

He took a step closer, speaking between tightly clenched teeth. “Do you understand, Kitty? I can take just so much.”

She gave her hair a nervous pat. “Of course, Travis. But it will be a lovely evening, you’ll see. I don’t know what you’re worried about. Now please hurry. It’s getting late, and you have to take a bath and get dressed.”

“And what in hell am I supposed to wear?”

“I told you I would take care of that, and I did.” She made her voice bright as she hurried across the room to where she had hung the suit on a nail. She held it up for him. “See? Isn’t it nice? Mattie Glass persuaded the owner of the shop where she sometimes works to let us borrow it just for tonight. Be very careful and don’t spill anything on it.”

He reached her in two giant steps and snatched the clothes from her. The pants were fawn-colored, and the coat was of bright green velvet with a satin lapel. The shirt was white and ruffled, and there was even a short, satiny top hat. It was an elegant outfit, but not one that Travis would ever have picked for himself.

“Hell, what difference does it make?” he muttered, turning away, shoulders slumped.

She was glad when he left the room, for she was having great difficulty holding back the tears. How she longed to throw herself in his arms and confess the whole wretched scheme! But she could not do that, for he would never leave her if she told him. He would stay here, shackled like a wild animal, slowly withering until he was but a shadow of the real Travis Coltrane.

Travis did not speak a word on the ride into town, sitting stiffly beside Kitty on the rough wooden wagon seat, staring straight ahead.

Occasionally, the wagon wheels would hit a hole in the road, and they would lurch against each other. Travis would stiffen. Kitty would pull away. God, she thought miserably, it has never been like this between us before.

When they reached Goldsboro, Kitty took a deep breath, mustering every bit of nerve within her, and spoke in her newly cultivated reproachful tone. “Tie the wagon well away from the hotel, Travis. There are so many fine carriages here. I hate for anyone to see us in this old wagon.”

He gave the reins a sudden jerk and turned to her. “Kitty, you’ve never been ashamed of this wagon before. You’ve always said these folks in their fine carriages might have money but not love.” Eyes averted, he muttered, “You’ve changed, woman. You’re not the same Kitty.”

Kitty steeled herself and continued in her high-pitched whine, “If you behave yourself tonight, Travis, everything will be all right. Just watch how much you drink. You know what a nasty mouth you have when you’re drinking.”

“Will you shut up?”

She looked up at him, stunned by the fury in his voice.

“I mean it,” he glowered. “God damn it, Kitty, I can’t take anymore.”

As they walked toward the hotel from where Travis had tied the wagon, memories flooded back, memories of how they had loved and fought passionately throughout the war and after. No matter how angry they had ever been, there was always the love, smoldering, waiting to be ignited by a look or a touch, flaming into passion. Theirs was a special love that would never die. Never. She had to keep believing that. Hope was all she had left.

They reached the front door of the marshal’s office, a block from the hotel. A light was burning inside, and Travis slowed. “I should stop in and speak to Sam. He’ll be leaving soon.”

Kitty held her breath. Would Sam keep his promise? He had reluctantly given his word to do as she asked. He assured her the telegrams had been sent to General Sherman and to President Grant and both had responded with enthusiasm to Travis being on the government committee.

“Well?” Travis barked.

Kitty tried to recall what he’d been saying.

“I asked if you want to go on and let me catch up with you,” he repeated stiffly. “I want to speak to Sam.”

“I…I suppose,” she began, then breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung open.

Sam stood there looking quite uncomfortable in a dull-colored cotton suit which did not fit him well. His brown hair was slicked down flat against his head, the gray more prominent somehow. His usually scruffy beard had been trimmed. He did not look at Kitty at all but greeted Travis jovially. “Well! I’m surprised to see you two all spiffed up. Are you headed for the hospital ball, too?”

Travis was stunned. “You mean
you’re
going? Sam, I’ve never known you to go to a ball.”

“Well, I don’t reckon I look too bad for an old coot, now do I?”

Kitty hoped Travis did not notice how forced Sam’s gaiety sounded, but evidently Travis was too surprised to see through Sam’s act.

“Sure I’m going.” Sam stepped out of his office and locked the door behind him. “Seems Dr. Sims and some of the good folks around here want to say good-bye to me formally. They’re using the ball as the occasion. Ain’t that somethin’? I figured they’d be glad to see one less Yankee around here. Maybe that’s the reason they’re wanting me to stop by,” he chuckled. “They want to tell me how glad they are I’m leaving.”

He fell into step beside them but still did not speak to Kitty.

“When are you going, Sam?” Travis asked sadly.

“Tomorrow, as a matter of fact. First thing in the morning. The new marshal got here three days ago and I got him broke in already. I’m taking the train up to Richmond and on to Washington. Won’t know till I get there just when the committee will be sailing. We’ve got some meetings up there for indoc—” he stumbled on the word.

“Indoctrination,” Kitty aided him.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He nodded. “They want to tell us what we’re to do. There’s plenty of important folks goin’, I hear. Senators and all. I guess they want some of us rowdies along on the trip in case of trouble.”

They walked in silence, then, with Travis staring down at the boardwalk. Kitty reached behind him and punched Sam sharply in his back, cueing him.

“Uh,” Sam cleared his throat nervously. “You all caught up on the plowing, boy? When I get back this fall, I want to see a good crop. Can’t have you goin’ lazy on me.”

“He’s already gone lazy,” Kitty whined. “We may have to give up the farm. He’s doing so poorly and showing such little interest that I’ve spoken to the widow Glass about her sons taking over. Some of the Negroes are willing to help, and it can all be done on a sharecropping basis.”

Travis stopped dead still and turned slowly around to stare at her, a glassy expression in his eyes. “What in hell are you talking about? This is the first I’ve heard of this. Who’s running the farm, you or me?”

“It’s
my
land.” She tilted her chin defiantly. She could feel Sam’s eyes burning into her and she rushed on. “You aren’t a farmer, Travis, and you never will be. If you’d worked like you should, we could have made a fine place, but your heart wasn’t in it and you know it.”

“And you’re just stupid enough to think we could get enough to live on from our share with someone else farming that land? Have you lost your mind?”

“We’ll talk later,” she said crisply, walking on. “I’m sure Sam isn’t interested in our personal problems.”

Travis stood there a moment, staring after her, but Sam gave him a nudge and whispered, “Come on, boy. You know how women are. She’s probably just runnin’ off at the mouth. Let’s go to the party and have a good time. Might be a while before we can get together again.”

“Yeah,” Travis snarled, then began to walk so fast that Sam had to hurry to keep up. “I feel like having a good party with you, old friend.” He walked right by Kitty, but she made no attempt to catch up.

Sam looked over his shoulder at her in sympathy, his eyes sending the silent message.
It’s not
too late.

Yes, it
is,
she sent the mute reply.
It’s been too late far too long, Sam.