Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 (32 page)

Kitty turned her head, startled. To the left, at the next window, a shadowed figure sat on the ledge. He wore a gray uniform, and her heart began to pound excitedly. A Confederate soldier! In the very next room! Did she dare tell him she was a prisoner? The sight of Andy s young, frightened face swam before her eyes.

“Hello…” Her voice came out a whisper.

“What’s the matter?” the stranger asked. “Can’t you talk to a lonely soldier? Do you have a jealous husband or something?’ He laughed, but the laughter sounded forced, as though he genuinely hoped he was wrong, that she could offer him some companionship.

“I…I’m engaged,” she blurted out, still in a half-whisper so the guard stationed outside the door would not hear her talking to someone.

“To a soldier?”

“Yes a Confederate…”

Again he laughed, but this time it sounded genuine. “Well, I should hope so. I can’t picture a pretty girl like you getting mixed up with a dang Yankee. What’s his outfit?”

“Wayne Volunteers. He’s a Major, with a North Carolina Regiment. I don’t know which one.” Her heart was pounding excitedly. Did she dare to hope he might know Nathan —know something about him? “The last I heard, he fought at the Battle of Shiloh…”

“God, we lost a lot of men there—thousands…” He swore under his breath. The light was dim from the lantern in his
room. She could not make out all the details of his face, but he was young, bearded. That’s about all she could tell of his features. “Haven’t heard from him since? You sure he’s all right? There’s been a lot of fighting.”

She wondered what to say next. How could she tell him she had no idea of what had been going on in the war? The only thing she knew was that the month was August, and they were in a town called Richmond, in the state of Virginia.

“I’ve been sick,” she thought of the lie and told it quickly. “Smallpox. I’m…recuperating, here, away from people. I…I’ve lost touch.”

“I guess you have.” He let out his breath. “There’s been a lot of smallpox. Lots have died with it. You were lucky. You sure picked a ratty place to hole up, though…” He sounded curious, so she made a comment about not having much money for food and shelter, and that seemed to satisfy him.

He started talking about the war as Kitty listened intently, eager to hear anything he might tell her. In April, he said, it looked as though the Confederates were constantly on the defensive everywhere. New Orleans was lost, McClellan had been at the gates of Richmond, Halleck was storming in on Corinth. Missouri was gone, and it looked as though the whole Mississippi Valley would follow it. “But now it looks different,” he said brightly. “It seems that victory for the South is not far away. McClellan got beat right in front of Richmond. And just a couple of weeks ago, Jackson advanced on Cedar Mountain and drove a detachment of General Pope’s army into retreat. ‘Course Jackson had to withdraw because Pope had some more men not far away, but the word is that General Lee is moving in a big army.”

“I do hope it will all be over soon,” Kitty said anxiously, glad to hear the good news. “I want to go home so badly.”

“Well, you sound strong enough, if you’d quit that danged whispering,” he teased her. “How about if I come over for a visit? I’ve been on the lines, and I’m mighty lonesome for the company of a pretty young thing like you. And that Major of yours wouldn’t mind you keeping a poor Johnny Reb from spending a lonely night…”

“All right,” she said nervously. She had to take the chance. If she could talk to him, tell him the whole story, he would surely gather some soldiers and rescue both her and Andy. They could charge the hotel and rescue them before Sam and the others had a chance to kill them.

“But be careful,” she rushed on. “There’s a guard at my door.”

“A guard?” He laughed and tilted the jug again. Then he lowered it and said, “You mean that Major put a guard at your door? Is he that afraid someone will take you away from him?”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” she cried, her brain screaming for the right words. Please, God, don’t let him be so drunk he can’t understand and grasp the situation. “I’m being held prisoner. That guard at the door is a
Yankee
, and they’ve got a fourteen-year-old Confederate held prisoner down the hall somewhere, and they’ve threatened to kill him if I ask for help. You’re my only chance. You’ve got to be careful…”

She heard the door opening softly, and she jumped away from the window. In the dim light, she could see the steel- blue eyes of Travis Coltrane gleaming angrily. “You talking to someone?” he asked sharply.

“No, no, of course not.” She forced a smile as he set down the lantern he was carrying. “I was listening to the people on the street talking. It gets lonely in here, all by myself with no one to talk to. I…I just sit at the window all day and watch and listen. Ask Sam. He knows when he comes in here, I’m always at the window looking out…”

She was talking nervously, and she knew it. He kept looking at her, eyes burning into hers, and finally she went over to the bed and sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

“Well, you’re back. That’s good. I’ve missed you, Travis. I know we aren’t exactly the best of friends, but we’ve been together so long now that I’m beginning to look forward to the times when we talk.”

He forced his eyes to leave hers and walked to the door to tell the guard to find Sam Bucher and a bottle of whiskey. Then he started pacing up and down the room silently, ignoring her. Kitty knew he was worried about something, and she prayed he hadn’t heard anything she said to the soldier-and she that the soldier had been sober enough to understand what she was saying. Perhaps at this very moment he was out gathering Confederate soldiers to storm the hotel…

Sam came in, nodded to her, then he and Travis sat down at the table in the far corner of the room, the bottle of whiskey Travis had ordered between them.

“It looks bad, Sam, damn bad,” Travis said worriedly, his brow furrowed, lips tight and grim. “McClellan’s now camped on the bank of the James River. He’s still out there and strong enough to resume the offensive on short notice, but he needs those 50,000 men that are being held back because of Jackson’s game in the Shenandoah Valley. This John Pope is moving down toward Richmond along the lines of the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, and there’s just no way that Lee can fend off both Pope and McClellan. But Lee’s smart, and I found out that he’s got the notion that McClellan is going to be inactive for a while. I had a hunch about what he’d do, so I did some checking and found out I was right.”

He paused, and Sam spoke up excitedly, “Go on, let’s have it. What’s Lee got up his sleeve?”

Kitty strained to hear every word. Somehow, she knew that this was the most important conversation she had overheard. What if they were, at this very moment, planning a move that might endanger Nathan’s life? The thought made her spine tingle apprehensively. She had no way of knowing just where he was fighting with his men.

He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out at once. “Lee has sent Stonewall Jackson, with about 25,000 men, north to attack Pope.”

Sam whistled between his teeth. “Goddamn, what do we do?”

“We round up the men and get ready to ride. Tell them to put on their Confederate uniforms so we can get through the lines, then we’ll change clothes and head for
our
lines and get word to Pope. We can’t let Jackson take him by surprise.”

The chair scraped the floor noisily as Sam got to his feet. Without another word, he left the room. Kitty prayed fervently that the Confederate soldier would come soon. Now she had valuable information to give him, and there was even more reason to turn Travis over for what he was—a dangerous Yankee spy. He could not be allowed to leave Richmond with such information. She looked at him sitting there, sipping whiskey from the bottle, What if the soldier didn’t come? What could she do then? She had to let their plans be known. But how? How could she get word to the Confederates?

She and Travis had not talked together for some time. In fact, he had hardly paid her any mind since that night he had rallied after being in a daze with the fever of smallpox. It was a surprise that he had even come into her room that night. His clothes were there, but she seldom saw him. He usually sent in Sam for what he needed, as though he didn’t want to have to come in contact with her. Oh, thank God, she had heard that door open, or he might have slipped up behind to hear her telling that Confederate soldier how she was being held prisoner. Travis could be as quiet and slippery as the bobcats she and Poppa had hunted back home. But he hadn’t heard, and now she wondered how to handle the situation. Could it be that she just might be able to reach him now, gain his trust? If so, she would stand a much better chance of catching him unawares than if she continued to be so resistant to his presence. Awhile back, before he’d come down with the illness, she had tried to subtly push herself at him, but he had not acknowledged her advances. Perhaps then he thought it was a trick. Now, since she had nursed him back to health and had done nothing to antagonize him lately, there just might be a chance.

She had to try, she thought feverishly. What was there to lose at this point? If the soldier from the next room had been too drunk to understand what she was saying, then she had to go ahead, on her own, push herself at Travis, then hopefully catch him off guard so she could tip his hand to the Confederates—even if it meant screaming to someone out the window!

Thoughts of her father crept painfully into her mind. What if he was fighting with this officer Pope or McClellan? What if she was, in fact, betraying him? It was a chance she had to take. Her freedom—maybe even her life, was at stake—as well as that of Andy Shaw. And there was Nathan to think about—Nathan and her countrymen—the Southerners. Poppa was only one man, a grown man, with a conscience and heart of his own. And he had made his decision just as she had to make hers, now. And Poppa would understand. She knew he would. He would know that she had to do what she thought was right. Wasn’t that the code he, himself, had taught her to live by? Was there any other path for her to take except to Travis Coltrane’s arms and make him think she wanted him desperately? Had yielded to his irresistible charms?

No, there was no other way. She had to do it. Slowly, she got up from the bed and moved across the floor to where he sat hunched over the table—and the bottle of whiskey which he continued to sip. She stood behind him, hardly daring to breathe as she fought to muster the courage for what must be done.

When he spoke, she jumped, startled. “Have you somehow come by a knife, princess? Are you waiting to plunge it into my back?” He sounded amused, not concerned about the possibility of death at her hands.

Not trusting herself to speak, she slid her hands up his back, caressing his shoulders, then moving to massage the muscles at the back of his neck, He did not move. She leaned forward, until her lips were almost touching his ear, forcing her voice not to quiver as she whispered, “It’s been so long…here…in this room…alone without you, Travis. I’ve waited for this moment, this time.”

She touched his ear, felt him quicken beneath her caress. “Hold me, love me…please,” her voice was strong, husky.

Afraid she would lose her nerve if she did not keep moving, Kitty pushed herself around him, slid onto his lap, nervous, fluttering fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. His chest was strong, massive, covered with thick, curling hair which she wrapped around her dancing fingertips. Pressing her lips against his, she felt the tickle of his mustache, beard, her tongue darting into his mouth as he quietly yielded to her.

Suddenly his fingers were snaking out to wrap into her hair, pulling her head back. In the orange glow of the lantern his eyes blazed like blue-red embers of coal. “So the lady needs pleasuring.” He smiled, half-taunting. “We wave a flag of truce to give each other what we want, is that it?”

“Yes.” Her heart was pounding into her throat, blood coursing through her veins. It
was
an act, she told herself. She did not really want this horrible creature, but she had to pretend, had to make him think that she was beside herself with desire for him. Others died for the South, would it be so great a sacrifice for her to offer the enemy her body if it meant helping the cause? She could not believe it was wrong. She could not even believe that Nathan would frown upon it if he knew the cause was just and worthy.

“Take me…” She slid her hand down his bare chest to his stomach, then lower, felt the bulging there that told her he wanted her, was yielding to the bait.

The thin muslin dress tore easily beneath his snatching hand, her breasts tumbling forth eagerly. He touched one taut nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezed as his eyes searched hers for any sign of displeasure. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she gasped deep in her throat, thrusting her chest upward to offer him even more of her bosom to do with as he desired. He squeezed harder, and she moaned out loud. “You like it, don’t you, princess?” He sounded angry. “You like to be hurt, don’t you?”

She could only moan as her body began to betray her with small flutters of involuntary pleasure beneath his hurting touch. With one quick movement he finished yanking the dress downward, ripping the material until she was completely naked there on his lap. His hands moved over her roughly, squeezing, bruising, lips moving to kiss, bite, probe, and torture.

Suddenly he was on his feet, lifting her in his arms to carry her to the bed. Falling down beside her, he tugged at his trousers until she felt the raw, hot flesh of his manhood pressing against her thigh. “Now…” she moaned. “Oh, Travis, I love you…forgive me for all the unkind words I’ve spoken. I’ve loved you for so long…those horrible. days and nights when I feared you’d die, I prayed for the time to come when I had the courage to tell you how much I do love you.”

He continued to caress her, burning the skin everywhere he touched. He found that nucleus of sensation that made her arch her body, a giant roaring beginning deep within her brain, the recesses of all pretense being dissolved as wind against the sky. “Beg for it,” he commanded harshly. “Beg, you vixen, and then beg some more…and I might pleasure you…”