The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (16 page)

“You mean kill him?” Jethro’s slow grin displayed chipped, yellowed teeth.

Corey shrugged. “Just make sure he does not return. Those are your orders. I expect them to be carried out. I pay you top wages and I expect results. If Coltrane is permanently removed, Kitty Wright will be quite vulnerable. Sooner or later she will have to face the fact that he will not return. Now go.”

Corey walked briskly down the street and entered General Schofield’s office. Jesse Brandon glanced up from where he was sitting with feet propped on his desk. “Mr. McRae,” he cried with recognition. Jumping to his feet, he grinned and asked solicitously, “What can I do for you, sir? The general isn’t in right now. I’m sorry.”

“Then I’ll talk to you.”

Corey sat down in a wooden chair near the soldier’s desk. He folded his hands on top of his knees and was about to speak when he looked sharply at the other two soldiers, both watching and listening intently. “Why don’t you men go for a walk?” he snapped.

They looked at Jesse, who nodded his approval, and they hurried out of the room, delighted to get a break.

“Miss Wright was here today. What about?”

Jesse twisted uncomfortably in his chair. “Mr. McRae, if the general ever finds out I tell you things I overhear, he’s gonna have my scalp for sure.”

With an exaggerated sigh Corey reached inside his white coat and took out a leather wallet. Laying several bills on the sergeant’s desk, he said drily, “This will help you buy many hats to cover your baldness, Brandon. Tell me about Miss Wright’s visit. I do not have all day.”

Jesse quickly stuffed the money into his desk drawer. “I shouldn’t do this, Mr. McRae. I don’t feel right about it.”

“Oh, your conscience never bothered you in the past when you answered questions for me. Now get on with it, man.”

The sergeant took a deep breath and told him. When he had finished, McRae spoke. “First, forget about finding Coltrane. Second, you will proceed at once to falsify documents showing back pay due to John Wright for the full time he served the Union Army.”

Jesse shook his head, bewildered and confused. “Mr. McRae, you’re asking a whole hell of a lot of me.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Corey waved his hand. “If you do as I say and use your head, no one will find out about it. Now what was the rate of pay for a Union private?”

“They got thirteen dollars a month to start with. Then there was a raise in June of ’64, and they started getting sixteen.”

“There were also military bounties, right? To stimulate Northern enlistments? I remember that in the militia draft of 1862 the Federal government gave twenty-five dollars to men who volunteered for nine months and fifty dollars to those who signed up for a year.”

Jesse nodded. “That’s right, and back in March of ’63 they were paying as much as four hundred dollars to anybody who would sign up for as long as five years.”

“Miss Wright won’t know the exact dates or amounts her father would have received for reenlistment.” Corey’s face was bright with excitement. “Prepare the papers, Jesse. Show that Private John Wright refused to accept any money at all from the Union Army, that he had requested that it all be kept in trust for his daughter. Figure in enough bounties so that she will receive at least a thousand dollars.”

“A thousand dollars?” Jesse’s eyes bugged out. “Who’s going to put up that thousand dollars? General Schofield didn’t say nothing about a loan that big. He mentioned something like three hundred.”

“You fool!” Corey’s fist slammed onto the desk so hard that it bounced off the floor. “I don’t intend for the general to know a damn thing about any of this. You prepare the papers. Make them look authentic. I will give you the money with which to pay her. If she comes in when the general is here, keep stalling. Wait until he is out, and then send your other men out. Make sure you are alone when you give her the papers and the money. But do not let her keep the papers. Have her sign a receipt, then destroy all the documents you prepared. Tell no one about this.”

“And what about when the general wants to know how the search for the real pay records is coming along? And what about when he asks have we received a reply to the request to General Sherman to find Coltrane?”

Corey smiled confidently. “Once Miss Wright stops coming around to pester him, the general will forget all about her. He has too many other matters to occupy his mind. He won’t even think about his wire to General Sherman. Now, is there anything else you can remember that I should know about? Did she say where she is living?”

The sergeant snapped his fingers excitedly. “Yeah, that was the part that really got me. She’s living in the swamps with a bunch of niggers—freed slaves. Says she had swamp-bottom roots for supper last night and breakfast this morning. Says she’s going to work her daddy’s land and give them a job, ’cause they’re the only friends she’s got.”

Corey shook his head in disgust. The woman was astoundingly independent. It was going to take some doing to bend her to his will. But he would succeed. He always did.

He got to his feet and Jesse rose also. They shook hands as Corey smiled. “You know what to do, Sergeant. Do your job well, keep your mouth shut, and I will see that you are handsomely rewarded. If you have any questions or problems, find me at once. But always be discreet. It would be best if we were not seen talking again, at least not as though we were acquainted.”

“Yes sir.” Jesse nodded vigorously. “I want to keep this a secret as much as you do. Lord knows I can use the money. But I sure as hell don’t want to get found out and wind up in big trouble.”

“You do as I say and no one will find out,” Corey assured him. Then he reached into his coat once again, removing his wallet. Counting out a little over a thousand dollars, he handed the money to the sergeant. “I’ll stop by in a few days to see how things went.”

Jesse looked at the money incredulously, then murmured, “Won’t the general be suspicious at how fast this came about?”

“Tell him General Sherman was most concerned when he received your inquiry about pay records. Because of his deep respect for Kitty Wright’s father, Sherman ordered the paperwork rushed through. General Schofield will be so delighted to have the matter settled that he won’t question a thing.”

Jesse nodded, and Corey walked quickly out of the office, nodding pleasantly to those he passed.

The whole venture of making Kitty Wright his wife was going to be delightful. Yes, he decided, it was better this way. Had she jumped at the chance to become his wife and be financially secure, he would probably have tired of her as he had the others, finally having to do away with them. Kitty was a challenge. He would enjoy her much more.

Chapter Eleven

Jacob reached down and helped Kitty hoist herself up to the rickety old buckboard wagon, both aware of the looks of anger and disgust directed at them by the white townspeople. The mules began to pull the wagon forward. “Lordy, Lordy,” Jacob shook his head. “You reckon it’s ever gonna stop, Miss Kitty? All the hatin’ looks? Folks had it in for you bad enough before. When they hear you is a’livin’ with me and my people, they is really gonna be mad.”

“Oh, Jacob, what business is it of theirs what I do?” Kitty was disgusted.

They rode along in silence until they were out of town and across the narrow river bridge. Then Jacob glanced at her. He could tell how upset she really was. “Things go bad with the tax man? Did you get bad news from the general feller about your daddy’s back pay?”

She sighed. “The general was not very cooperative, and I’m afraid I am going to have to make many scenes in his office before he realizes I mean to collect that money. As for the taxes, well, it seems Poppa really didn’t know just how much land he did own. He had sold off some of it awhile back, you know, but I certainly had no idea he still owned so much. The taxes have not been paid since 1860. I suppose he had meant to find a way to pay them, but then you know how he became after that terrible beating. He probably didn’t even think of taxes. Anyway, there is quite a large sum of money due, and the tax collector says that the land can be sold for taxes. In fact, he says it will come up on the delinquent tax list within the next thirty days and be offered at auction. I am sure Corey McRae already knows all this, and is just waiting for his chance. Oh, Jacob, I can’t lose that land. Poppa would just turn over in his grave if I did. It meant everything to him.”

Jacob nodded. “It sho did. Yes’m, that’s a fact. I heered him say over and over that a man’s land is ever’thing. Take that from him, and he ain’t got nothin’.” He paused a moment, then said, “I ain’t worried about you keepin’ that land. Yo’ pappy is in heaven, sho as we is a’sittin’ here, and he’s probably talkin’ to God, Himself, right this minute, sayin’, ‘Look down there at my girl, Lord. She’s worrin’ herself to death over the land, and that ain’t good for her in her family way. You jus’ got to help her out.’ And the Lord, He gonna think about it awhile, and then He’s gonna say, ‘John Wright, you is a good man, and you served me well while you was on Earth, and that daughter of yours, she is a fine woman, too. I gonna help her out.’ You wait and see, Miss Kitty. Ever’thing gonna work out just fine. I ain’t gonna worry a’tall about it.”

Kitty’s heart was warmed by the old man’s faith, and she chided herself for not having more herself. There was going to be a way for her to pay those taxes, just as surely as Travis would one day return.

When they bumped along the rutted path to the swampy campground, they could see a crowd gathered in the center around the spot where the cooking fires were made. “Wonder what’s going on?” Jacob gave the mules an extra slap on the reins, his eyes wide. “Looks like some excitement.”

“Maybe someone shot a deer,” Kitty mused. “I heard some of the men say they were going hunting today. Luther said they had seen some wild turkey tracks this morning. Fresh meat would sure taste better than those horrid swamp roots.” She made a face, remembering the putrid smell and moldy taste.

“I don’t believe it,” Jacob cried happily. “See that man in the blue uniform? Praise God, I think it’s Gideon. Gideon done come home from the war. Oh Lordy.”

The old man burst into tears of joy, and Kitty blinked in bewilderment. “Gideon? Who is Gideon, Jacob?”

“You don’t remember Gideon, missy? He be my sister Nolie’s boy. He ran away and joined up with the Yankees when the war first broke out. Never did come home for a visit, ’cause he knowed he’d be shot on sight if he did. Made the white folks around here plenty mad that he run off, ’specially to join up with the Yankees. That there’s got to be Gideon. I don’t know of no other colored boy that’d be wearin’ a suit of blue. Not from these parts.”

The wagon bumped nearer, dust thickening in clouds about them. Kitty was about to ask Jacob to please slow down before she was bounced clean out of the wagon, when he let out a shriek. “Lord, God, it is you! Gideon! Oh, Gideon, I was a’fearin’ you’d died.” He yanked the mules to a stop so fast Kitty was almost flung across their backs. As she righted herself upon the bench seat, Jacob scrambled down to meet the running boy. She watched as they embraced, dancing around and around, both crying.

“You know no damn Reb can kill me,” Gideon was shouting. “I told you-all I’d be back soon as it was safe. I got my discharge. I’m a civilian now!” he said proudly.

The other Negroes had gathered around them, forgetting about Kitty as she sat in the wagon watching. Then she felt piercing eyes. “Who’s that?” Gideon demanded, pointing a finger in Kitty’s direction.

“You remember Miss Kitty Wright, Gideon,” Jacob said. “I lived on her and her poppa’s land. You and yo’ mammy used to come visit me there. John Wright fought with the Yankees, too. Miss Kitty, she’s a’livin’ with us now, ’cause she ain’t got no place else to go.”

“What do you mean, she has no place else to go?” Gideon glared at her with distrust. “She’s white, ain’t she? What’s she doing here with our people?”

“I tol’ you, boy, she ain’t got no place to go.” While Kitty helped herself down from the wagon, Jacob proceeded to tell Gideon her story. She found herself becoming annoyed at the way the other Negroes stood back, their eyes distrustful suddenly—just because Gideon had arrived.

Gideon snapped, “It don’t look right, having a white woman here with us. I don’t like it. We’re going to have enough trouble with the white folks as it is without giving shelter to someone they already have a quarrel with.”

Kitty stepped forward then, lips set in a determined line. “You may stop talking about me as though I were deaf and dumb, Gideon. You may address me directly. It’s true that I have no place to go at the moment, but I expect to be able to get some money soon. I have offered your people shelter on my land once I am able to move onto it myself and start a late crop. As for my staying here, why do you object so violently?”

The whites of his eyes were the color of milk, surrounding pinpoint dots of chocolate. “You are white, missy,” he ground out. “You look down on us freed slaves. All you Southern whites do. You’re planning on tricking my people into working for you for nothing. You won’t never want to pay no nigger, and you know it.”

“I would pay any man or woman who worked for me if I had the money! But I have told them all that this year I can only offer them a share of what food we can grow. If the land prospers, I will even deed some to them, so they can build a house, plant their own garden. Even my own father did not know exactly how much land he owned. I checked today, with the tax collector—”