Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 (65 page)

“I’m concerned,” John said patiently, “because I know my girl and I know she loves you and she’ll never be happy with Nathan. And damn it to hell, it’s been pretty hard for me to keep quiet about what I know about him. I haven’t said anything because if he’s the man she wants, then I won’t stand in her way, but I don’t believe he is the man she wants.”

Travis leaned forward. “What are you talking about? What do you know about him that you’re keeping hidden from
Kitty
?”

John’s face twisted angrily, his one eye squinting in fury. “Nathan rode with the Vigilantes that night.” He ground out the words, almost choking on his anger. “I struggled, tore at a hood. It slipped, not much, but enough for me to see it was him. I didn’t let on. I was afraid if they knew I recognized any of them, they would go on and kill me. ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord’ but if He don’t finish off the scoundrels that took ray eye, you can bet that
I
will one day.”

Getting to his feet, Travis dusted off the pants of his uniform. “Well, I’m glad you told me. I guess maybe I kept telling myself that this fellow had background, breeding, money—everything I don’t have—and that he was more suited for Kitty than I ever could be. But knowing this, that he’s the type who would hide behind a mask and beat and kill, well, I can’t see how he’s better for her than I am.” He took a few steps down the hill, stopped, and wheeled around. “I’m not saying I’m good enough for her or that, damnit, I even want her. I’m just saying that I’ll…oh hell, I’ll tell her goodbye. That’s the best I can do for now.”

John’s chuckling echoed in his ears as Travis stormed down the hill following the direction Kitty had taken. When he reached the closed cabin door, he pounded on it roughly with his fists, shaking the walls.

The door flew open and Kitty stood there, wide-eyed and surprised. With one quick step, he was inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Looking around the small room, he saw that they were alone; then he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, spinning her around to pin her against the wall. Leaning forward, so close that she felt his warm breath on her face, he said in a low but firm voice, “Kitty Wright, I came here to tell you that I care about you. I’m the way I am, and I’ll never change, but I couldn’t say goodbye without telling you that no matter what’s happened between us that might leave a bad taste in your mouth, I do give a damn about you.”

Their gaze locked and for a moment, Kitty could not speak. Then she began to sputter, finally exploding: “Do you think I give a damn?” She clawed at the hands clamped so tightly upon her shoulders, but he held them there. “You think it matters to me for you to stand here and say that yes, you
do
care about me…all those times you…you
raped
me and mistreated me, that you
cared
about me? Well, damn you, Travis Coltrane, it doesn’t matter! You are a no-good Yankee dog and I hate you now and I always will…I…”

His lips crushed down on hers, silencing the outpouring of her wrath. Her nails dug into the flesh of his hands, but he continued to hold her shoulders firmly, his mouth moving across hers as he pressed down to keep her head pinned back against the wall. And slowly, ever so slowly, her nails released their grip, her lips began to yield and respond.

And then he bent to scoop her up into his arms, carrying her across the half-darkened room to place her gently upon the bed. He began to remove his clothing, and their eyes still fastened in a piercing gaze, Kitty began to take off her clothes, as well.

Travis lay down beside her, his hands gently stroking the firm, supple lines of her tantalizing body. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her. Never had he wanted one woman so much. But he was not about to take her roughly, savagely. No. He wanted to show her once and for all that in his own way, he did care. Maybe he couldn’t express himself in words or gestures in daily contact, but here, here in bed, lying naked together, he could show her that he did care, that he did want her, and that in his own way he needed her beside him.

His lips moved to her cheek, then his tongue darted out to trace the inner lines of her ear. She moaned, twisting beneath him, and he whispered huskily, “Am I raping you now, Kitty? Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she cried, thrusting against him. “No…no…no…”

His lips, his tongue, his hands conspired to tease her into a sobbing mass of frenzy. Her nails dug into the firm flesh of his back and buttocks, drawing him closer. “Take me,” she begged shamelessly, “take me now, Travis. Oh damn you…damn you.”

He prepared to mount her, then paused. “
You
take
me,
Kitty. You take me and put me where you want me, where I belong—all of me, into all of you…”

For a moment, she hesitated. But the heat of her desires forced her hand to move slowly and her fingers wrapped around his swollen member. Raising her hips to meet the thrust, she took him inside her and their bodies crashed together in a crescendo of passion.

And as they crested together, the giant wave of fulfillment washing over their heaving bodies, Travis’s breath seared against her flush as he gasped, “I care, Kitty. In
my
own way…I do care.”

And they held each other and slept the slumber of contented lovers.

Chapter Forty

Kitty opened her eyes. Someone was pounding on the door impatiently. She shook her head, trying to awaken fully. “Hey, girl, you all right?” It was John Wright calling. “Time to eat. Hey, don’t you hear me?”

Her eyes went to her naked body. “Yes, yes, Poppa. Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

It was coming back, fully and clearly, and a turn of her head brought the shocking reality of Travis’s having left her without another word. The warmth she had felt was slowly being replaced by stark, cold indignation. How could he? How could he have made love to her so sweetly and whispered how much he cared and then stolen away while she slept without a word, as though she were something to be used and discarded. And how could she have been fool enough to fall for his trickery? Damn! Damn! Damn! She cursed herself for being so weak!

Yanking on her clothes, smoothing back her hair, Kitty hurried to the door, opening it against the late evening sun. “You’ve been asleep,” John said, puzzled, his eye taking in her rumpled appearance. “Are you ill, girl?”

She told him she was fine, only tired. Her eyes anxiously surveyed the soldiers lining up for meal call. Travis was nowhere to be seen. What would her reaction be when she saw him? Perhaps she was overreacting. He might have had to report for duty and did not want to awaken her.

She was playing the role of the scorned woman, being weak, and this made the anger rise again—this time for herself. Forcing a smile, she said, “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

They walked toward the line. Hesitantly, John touched her arm and said, “You still going across the river tonight? I can make the arrangements for the crossing. It will take a small patrol of men, a white flag. The Confederates will honor it and you can go over safely into Richmond.”

“Poppa, I don’t want to leave here.” She looked at him incredulously. “There’s nothing for me in Richmond.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nathan is in Richmond. What’s here?”

“You. And Travis. Oh, Poppa,” she hugged him then, relieved that she had realized her anger earlier was ridiculous and unfounded, “would you be very unhappy if Travis and I loved each other? I didn’t think it was possible.”

For a moment, he stood there gaping in surprise, then cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know what to say, Kitty. You know I’ve always told you to make your own decisions. But this is one I think you should give a lot of thought to. The war is about to bust wide open, and you won’t be safe traveling with us.”

“Everything will work out. You’ll see.” Happily she took a wooden plate and held it out to be heaped with foul-smelling stew. Things
would
work out. She was sure of it. She would find Travis and they would talk some more and the war would be over one day and they would be happy together. It had been there all along, only she hadn’t seen it. And Travis had known it, too. They would be happy together. She was sure of it.

Hurrying through her meal, Kitty excused herself from her father and began walking through the enormous camp in search of Travis. Here and there she stopped to ask soldiers if they knew where he was. Some of them did not even know him, but she kept smiling hopefully, inquiring. She felt a desperate need to be with him and she intended to keep searching till she found him. So what if he was on picket? They could talk there privately, in seclusion. He wouldn’t mind. He loved her!

She was approaching the outer fringes of the camp, feeling apprehensive with the realization that this was the seamy side, where the officers turned their backs on the cabins and tents that were being used for saloons and gambling and the women for sale that were smuggled in. Travis would not be here. Turning, she started back and then spotted Sam sitting outside a tent.

Relieved, she rushed up to him. “Sam, have you seen Travis? I’ve got to find him.”

He looked at her a long time before speaking, and she was about to ask him why he was behaving so strangely when he said, “Kitty, just go back to your cabin. Get out of here.”

Forcing a laugh, she said, “Sam, whatever is the matter with you? Travis and I have finally done what you knew we’d do all along, we’ve admitted we care about each other. And I want to find him, be with him.”

He shook his head, a sad expression on his bearded face. “Please,” he was begging her. “Go on back to your cabin. It would never work out for you and Travis.”

“Sam, I don’t understand you.” She was uneasy, puzzled. “Do you know where he is?”

He nodded in the direction of a large tent behind him being used for a saloon. “But don’t go in there, girl. You’re only asking to be hurt. I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

He stepped to block her way, but the darted around him, looking inside the tent to see Travis sitting on a barrel, a bosomy yellow-haired woman on his lap. He was bending over, kissing the swell of her breasts. “Honey, I sure do want some of you…” Kitty’s heart constricted painfully as she heard him speak. “I just had me a woman not long ago, but she didn’t have what you’ve got. It takes you to fill my need for a while, you know that.”

The woman laughed, running her fingers through his hair, lifting his head, and moving to press her bright, red lips against his. Kitty could hear him groaning as he gathered her tightly in his arms: “I want you, baby…got to have you.”

Stricken, she turned from the tent. Sam was standing there looking pained and hurt.

“Kitty, I’m sorry. Travis is all mixed up.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said tartly, “not anymore.” With head held high, she moved back through the camp. So! She had made a fool of herself. And why? Because she had behaved like a woman! An empty-headed, giddy woman who fancied herself in love with a man. She had asked for it. She had allowed herself to be weak. There was no one to blame but herself. She had it coming.

Reaching the spot where John sat playing cards with some of the other soldiers, Kitty asked if she could speak with him alone. He followed her inside the cabin. “I want to go to Richmond,” she said tersely when they were alone. “I think I need to leave here, to sort out my feelings, Poppa. I hope you understand. I love you and I’ll worry about you, but let’s pray to God this war ends soon and we can be together soon.”

She had to turn away, blinking back the tears, not wanting him to see the hurt.

And she was surprised to hear him calmly say, “All right, Kitty. I’ll make the arrangements. You get your things together.”

Within an hour, Kitty sat upon a horse with two Federal cavalrymen on each side of her, one of whom rode just in front waving a white flag on the end of his rifle. The Rebel picket yelled out that they could cross the river—but God help them if it was a trick. “I got my gun trained right on you bastards.

“Shut yer mouth, Johnny Reb,” the soldier carrying the flag yelled as he kneed his horse forward in the shallow crossing of the river. “Can’t you see we got a lady with us? Don’t none of you Southerners have no manners?”

“You shut up,” the picket cried angrily. “I didn’t see no lady. All I saw was a bunch of dadburned Yankees. Now you go slow and easy ‘cause I’m just itchin’ to kill me a Yank today!”

Kitty tensed. If the picket did shoot, they would probably all be slaughtered. But the Federal soldiers knew how far they could go in their riling and when they were almost to the shore, they halted. The one in front called out: “Here we are, Johnny Reb. We’re supposed to leave this woman here with you. She’s from the South, one of yours, and there’s an officer in Richmond by the name of Collins who will see she’s escorted back to North Carolina.”

The soldiers tipped their hats to Kitty and started back across. Swallowing hard, she felt the impulse to cry once again. Yankees. They were Yankees, but her father was one of them, and she had left him behind to return to…what? She did not know. Perhaps she was running from, not toward, her destiny.

Out of the bushes came six Confederate soldiers and in the dim moonlight, Kitty saw how shabbily they were dressed. One of them had rags tied around bare feet. Another was completely barefooted and had a ragged blanket tied around his shoulders. How different they were from the soldiers she remembered who had marched off to war so proudly when it all began.

She told them where she wanted to be taken, whom she wanted to see, and they eyed her with suspicion. A woman riding out of a Yankee camp was not a usual occurrence. And as they rode along in the dim moonlight, Confederate pickets came out to stare. But Kitty was too lost in thought to worry about being the object of so much attention. She was busily chiding herself for being so weak as to put herself in a position to be hurt by a scoundrel such as Travis Coltrane. It had to be forgotten once and for all, the whole torrid, seamy affair. They had been lovers in a physical way only, nothing more. There was no future and there was no need to brood over what was past. So she had made a fool of herself. Other women before her had made the same mistakes. Others would follow. She would merely have to be careful not to be so weak ever again.