Sergeant Brandon had told him about the federal marshals who would be coming in, and he wondered how much inconvenience this was going to cause. Some of the marshals might not take too kindly to his method of evicting farmers.
Everyone thought old Micah Pursall had just wandered away with a broken heart when McRae foreclosed on his tax certificate. No one knew that old fool had dared to stand up to Rance and his men, meeting them with an Enfield. Micah and his wife and three children would never be found. Let everyone believe they had left. Their bodies were rotting at the bottom of the Neuse River, weighed down with enough stones to keep them under till the fish and turtles got through picking their bones.
Corey had neither time nor patience to go through the tedious process of eviction through the courts. True, the Northern judges were quite sympathetic to the Northern certificate holders, but now and then one came along who wanted to give the Rebels extra time to come up with the tax money. Corey found it expedient to handle things his way.
One parcel of land belonged to old Zeb Mooney. Only fifty or so acres were involved, but the land was very flat and the drainage good. A perfect tract for tobacco. It was already cleared of trees and stumps, which would save his field hands time. They could get right to plowing as soon as the ground thawed and be ready for spring planting as soon as the weather was right.
Corey had offered to buy the old man’s land, just as he always offered to purchase everyone’s before buying their tax certificates. He preferred that business be pleasant, if possible. Unfortunately, most of the Southerners he dealt with were most indignant, and some of them, like Mooney, were downright rude. He made Mooney a fair offer, and when the old man started yelling and screaming about how his boys died defending his land, and how he would live there till he died and then be buried right alongside of them, Corey made another offer—the same amount of money for the property, but with a special stipulation drawn up in the deed. The Mooney family cemetery would remain untouched, and it would be fenced off and never desecrated. Mooney told him he was crazy and gave him five minutes to get off his property.
Well, Mooney was going to be buried a lot sooner than he had thought, but not in his family cemetery. It looked as though he would have to end up at the bottom of the Neuse River with old Micah Pursall and his family.
The other piece of land Corey wanted right away adjoined Mooney’s and belonged to a feisty little widow named Mattie Glass. A deep, rolling stream from an underground spring on Mattie’s land cut through the property, and Corey needed that water for his cattle. The plot was only ten acres, hardly enough to quibble over, but the water was important. He made her an offer higher than anyone else would have made, but Mattie turned him down flat, saying she did not even want to dicker with him. Her husband had deeded the property solely to her before he went off and got himself killed by the Yanks at Shiloh. She had two boys, twelve and thirteen, and she was going to raise them right there on her land. Corey had tried to explain to her that ten acres was hardly enough land to worry about, that the generous sum he was offering was more than enough to purchase a small house in town. Her argument was that the land was all her husband had to leave them, and she could never sell it. “Thurman would turn over in his grave if’n I did,” she had said, looking at Corey as though he had to be out of his mind even to suggest such a thing.
He would have to do some thinking on that one, he decided, staring at the tax certificate in his hand. Zeb Mooney was really no problem. Everyone thought he was crazy anyway, the way he sat in the cemetery all day talking to his dead wife and sons. No one would be surprised if he disappeared. They would think he walked into the woods and never came out.
Mattie Glass, however, was a different situation. If she were to disappear, as well as Zeb Mooney, and Corey wound up with both parcels of land, well, he was asking for trouble.
Federal marshals would not be along for a few days. He needed to move quickly.
The door banged open, and Rance swaggered in. “It took you long enough,” Corey snapped. “Close the damn door. Can’t you see you’re letting all that blasted cold air in?”
The smug look left Rance’s face. “Something happened I don’t know about, boss? You were in a pretty good mood when—”
“I don’t have time for chitchat, Rance.” He thrust the two tax certificates at his foreman. “I want these papers served at once. Tonight. The time limit is up. If Mooney gives you any trouble, take care of him the way you took care of Pursall. As for that widow woman…damn, I don’t know what to do about her. I’m going to make a lot of enemies if I evict a war widow and two children.”
Rance scratched at his crotch thoughtfully, and Corey swore, “Damn it, man, why are you always digging at yourself down there? Do these trollops you cavort with give you lice?”
“Sorry, boss,” Rance mumbled. “Just a habit when I’m thinkin’ on something.”
“Think about Mattie Glass. I want her property because of that underground stream.”
“You know, she ain’t a bad-lookin’ piece of woman-flesh. I’ve noticed her sometimes in town. She’s got a nice body. Why don’t you just marry up with her and then you’ll have her land with no problem at all. When you get tired of her, you can pass her on to me and the boys…” His voice trailed off, and his large frame seemed to wither. “I was only trying to be funny,” he said.
“This is no time to be funny. I can’t do as I please until I have things under control. I want you to take some men and pay Mattie Glass a visit tonight. Put hoods on so you won’t be recognized, should anyone see you. Rough her up a little and put some fear into her. Tell her to sell her land or something terrible will happen to her boys.”
“I get it.” Rance smiled. He enjoyed this sort of thing. “You don’t want everybody saying you evicted a helpless war widow, so me and the boys scare her into selling, and we make sure she knows that if she dares tell anybody she was pressured, she’ll wish she hadn’t.”
“Exactly.”
“And what about old man Mooney?”
“Don’t waste your time talking to him. Just go over to his place and kill him and throw him in the river. Weigh him down good. Then I’ll wait a few weeks and file a claim for his property since I hold the tax certificate. By that time, we’ll have Mattie off her land. I’ll have both tracts, all nice and legal and respectable.”
“You sure got everything figured, boss.”
“Just don’t louse it up, Rance.” Corey eyed him warily. “I’ve got too much at stake.”
Corey straightened a few more papers on his desk, then put on his coat.
“How about Miss Kitty?”
“What about her?”
“I heard one of the niggers say they heard Doc Sims say she was getting better.”
“So?”
Rance looked uncomfortable. “Boss, I know you want to marry that woman, and I don’t blame you. She’s the prettiest filly I ever laid eyes on. I was just wondering how long it would be before you got what you wanted.”
“Not long, Rance.” Corey smiled. “Not long at all. You just take care of your business, and I’ll take care of mine. Everything is going to turn out all right. You’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty
The world had stopped spinning. The fog had finally lifted. Kitty could focus and make out people’s faces. She could lift her head without the racking nausea consuming her.
When the fever finally broke, she was dreaming that she was floundering in a choking sea and thousands of groping, clawing fingertips were clutching at her body, trying to pull her down. She fought against it, trying to rise, struggling against the forces seeking to drown her.
She opened her eyes and heard someone gasp, “Praise God, she’s coming out of it.” There was no sea of clutching fingers. It had been only a nightmare…a horrible nightmare. She wanted to stay awake, but her body was too weak. While she had awakened from a terrible dream, something was nagging in the back of her mind that told her another nightmare was b
eginning…and that this one was real.
“Miss Kitty…” a voice was calling anxiously from that other world, the world she wondered if she were ready for. “Miss Kitty, you need to wake up and drink this pot likker. It’s good and hot, and you need yo’ strength.”
A gentle hand was touching her shoulder, shaking her.
Kitty looked up into Dulcie’s concerned face.
“Thank the Lord you gonna be all right, Miss Kitty. You gave us such a scare. You know you been out of your head with the fever for five days now? Even Dr. Sims said he was afraid. Had us all scared to death, you did. And poor Uncle Jacob, he’s been out of his mind. What time he weren’t down on his knees a’prayin’, he been sittin’ outside the back door a’cryin’. Now you drink this pot likker so you’ll get well.”
“My baby,” Kitty cried. “Little John…”
“He’s just fine.” Dulcie smiled, nodding proudly. “Mistah McRae sent some of his men to pick up him and Jacob, and they brought him back here, and the doctor looked after him. He was mighty sick, but he’s right pert now. Doin’ a lot better than his momma, I can tell you that.”
It was all coming back. Little John was sick. She needed money. The walk through the frozen slush to the road, getting a ride with old Ben. The visit to the tax collector and the shocking news that Corey McRae, the damned vulture, had bought the tax certificate. No money could be borrowed on land that had tax liens against it. Vaguely, she remembered going to General Schofield’s office, only he hadn’t been there, and the man who had given her her father’s army pay said something about leaving town. That was all she remembered.
“Miss Kitty, you gonna drink this pot likker and get yo’ strength back, or you want to lay there and wither away to nothing?” Dulcie was scolding her.
Kitty sipped. The hot liquid was bitter and greasy, but he knew it would give her strength. How many times had she spooned the juice of cooked collard greens and fatback between the lips of sick people she was nursing? A few more swallows, and she did feel better. “No more, not now, please.” She pushed it away.
“Well, Mistah McRae said—”
“Dulcie, why am I here?” Kitty pulled herself up to a sitting position. Dulcie saw that she was still quite weak and quickly set the pot likker aside to prop her up.
“I want to know why I’m here,” Kitty repeated. “The last thing I remember, I was in town. Now I wake up here, in this house that belongs to a man I despise.”
“Well, I don’t rightly know, Miss Kitty,” Dulcie said with wide, frightened eyes. She was not anxious to get involved in the situation. “All I know is Mistah McRae and Dr. Sims brought you here a few days after little John and Jacob was brought.”
“A few days?”
“They say you took real sick in the army’s office in town, and you was too sick to move, so they put you in the hotel till Dr. Sims said you could be brought out here. You been real sick, Miss Kitty, awful sick. Like I said, Dr. Sims wasn’t too sure you was gonna make it for a while. I heard him fussin’ at the mastah for bringing you out here, but the mastah, he say he know you gonna wake up and wonder where yo’ baby was, and he wanted to get you out here so you could be near him. He’s been real concerned about you, he has. He’d come in here and sit for hours and hold your hand and talk to you and beg you to live, Miss Kitty. And you should see the way he carries on over little John. He’s got that boy a’cooin’ and a’laughin’. It’s something to see, for sure.” She laughed, but her merriment faded quickly as she saw the anger in Kitty’s eyes.
“You tell Corey McRae I wish to see him at once.”
Dulcie had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and she moved quickly to her feet. “I told him I was bringing you up the pot likker. He said he’d come in to see you after you ate and had time to see little John.” She was backing toward the door, looking frightened.
“Dulcie, you tell Mr. McRae that I wish to see him at once, and then you start getting my baby’s things together. Tell Jacob we’ll be leaving here in a few hours.”
The Negro girl shook her head from side to side. “No, ma’am, you ain’t able to leave here no time soon. You still not well. Doc Sims, he’s coming by later. You talk to him about that.”
“Dulcie, will you do as I say?” Kitty’s voice rose. “I won’t stay in this house a minute longer than necessary. Now, get John ready and send word to Jacob.”
The door opened, bumping Dulcie, and the pot likker went sloshing to the floor. She bent quickly and began wiping at the spill with her apron as Corey McRae stepped inside the room, a grim expression on his face.
“What is all this screaming about?” He glared down at Dulcie. “I could hear you all the way down the hall. And you were talking like a cotton-patch nigra again, Dulcie. Hugo has instructed you all about how to speak. Don’t let me hear you forget yourself again or you’ll feel the lash. Is that clear?”
“Yassuh.” She jerked her head up quickly. “I mean, yes…sir.”
“Now clean up that mess and get out of here. I want to talk to Miss Kitty.”
“And Miss Kitty wants to talk to you,” Kitty snapped icily.
Corey crossed the room, smiling warmly. “Oh, Kitty, Kitty, it’s so good to see you awake. You don’t know how worried you have had all of us. You were a sick young woman, do you know that? And little John is anxious to see his mommy. He—”
He touched her shoulder, and she slapped his hand away. “Don’t you touch me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Now what’s all this about? Are you still delirious? I thought you were coming around, my dear…”
“Don’t ‘my dear’ me, you…you vulture!”
“Is that any way to talk to a man who saved your life for the second time? And your baby’s? Kitty, I don’t understand you.”
Glancing at Dulcie, who was still wiping at the spilled liquid, Corey snapped, “Get the hell out of here, girl.”
“Yes…yes sir.” Dulcie nearly tripped in her haste to get out of the room.
He turned back to Kitty. “Now, what is all this about? Why are you so annoyed with me?”
“Oh, don’t put on your act for me, Corey McRae. I know what an unscrupulous thief you really are. I know about your sneaking and buying my tax certificate. Well, if you think you are getting my land, you’re crazy. I’ll see you dead and in hell before you take my land.”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her hands were knotted into fists. Oh, if only she were stronger. Why did she have to be sick? There was so much to be done.
“Kitty, have I tried to take your land?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Have I tried to take your land away from you?” he repeated. “Even though I own your tax certificate, have I been beating on your door demanding that you pay me the taxes, plus interest, and told you that if you didn’t pay, you had to get off your land?”
She stared at him.
“Well, have I, Kitty?”
She shook her head.
“Then how can you say I want to take your land away from you?”
“Why did you buy the certificate?”
“To keep Jerome Danton from buying it, of course. He was going by the tax office every day to ask if you had been in to pay your taxes, just waiting for the deadline so he could pay them and do the very thing you accuse me of wanting to do. I have much influence, Kitty, and I made sure that when the deadline came, I was given the first chance to buy your certificate. And I did. But instead of being grateful, you scream accusations at me. How do you think that makes me feel after my going to great trouble and expense to nurse you and your son through a raging fever? You would have died if not for me, and instead of gratitude, you give me contempt. Maybe I should throw you off your land and forget about you.”
She had been listening quietly. His threat did not faze her. Jutting her chin upward, she asked, “Well, why don’t you?”
He had been gazing out the window, but his head jerked around to stare at her in
credulously. “What did you say?”
“I said, why don’t you? Throw me off my land, I mean, and forget about me. Why do you keep rescuing me and putting me in your debt? What kind of game are you playing, Corey?”
He sat down on the side of the bed, leaning over so that one hand was on each side of her. “You beautiful little fool,” he whispered caressingly, his eyes devouring her. “Don’t you know? Can’t you see that I am in love with you? When I talked of marriage the first time we met, it was a foolish proposal by a lonely man seeking respectability as well as the companionship of a very desirable woman. You were wise to reject me and run away. But now it’s different, Kitty. I have fallen in love with you. I also adore your son. I can’t stand to see you groveling for every morsel of food. I can’t stand to see that boy of yours want for anything. Marry me, Kitty. Let me take care of you. Forget Travis Coltrane the way he has forgotten you. It’s been a year, for God’s sake. You would have heard from him by now. Don’t you realize that?”
He straightened, ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what is to be done with you, Kitty. I can’t understand you. I offer you my heart, my name, my home, my wealth, and yet you turn from me.”
“I don’t love you,” she said quietly.
He turned misery-filled eyes upon her. “Have I asked you to love me? I will make you love me, by God. Give me a chance, Kitty. Don’t be a fool and turn down what I offer you.”
“I cannot marry a man I do not love. It would not be fair to you or to me, Corey. It would never work out. We couldn’t be happy.”
He nodded, nostrils flaring angrily. “I see. So you’ll take John and go back to that miserable little shack in the swamps and both of you will probably die of disease or starvation. All because of your goddamn stubborn pride.”
He leaped to his feet, face red. “Well, you go right ahead, Kitty Wright. Take your son and go now, if you wish. But don’t expect any more help from me. And don’t expect any charity. I own your tax certificate, and until you can pay me, you can remain on your land and work it as a tenant farmer. I will get sixty percent of the profits.”
The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 Page 24