Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1

by Patricia Hagan

  Chapter One

  The sky was gray and overcast. Kitty Wright sat in the rocking chair in the main room of the old wooden farmhouse, staring through the window at the stark, brown field beyond. The tatting her mother insisted she labor over lay neglected in her lap. She longed to be outside, anywhere but there in that cold, dreary room, alone with her thoughts.

  A sudden, sharp rapping on the door intruded upon her dreamy state. Laying aside the lace-weaving, she moved swiftly across the thin plank floor to yank the door open eagerly.

  The crisp, early November air swirled her muslin skirt about her legs as she stared into the anxious face of the old black man, Jacob. Twisting a ragged straw hat in trembling hands, he bowed his graying head slightly and said, “Miss Kitty, you better find your pappy. I heard ol’ Betsy wailin’, and I peeked in the barn, and she looks ‘bout ready to drop that calf. I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no calf, and Fanny, she out helpin’ with Nora Brown’s sick young’uns…”

  Kitty nodded, frowning. That calf was important, because it meant meat on the table one day, something they seldom had, In fact, her father was out hunting right then, because a neighbor had stopped by to report wild turkeys feeding near the river. She had even begged to go along, but her mother had reacted angrily, saying it wasn’t fitting for a young lady to take up arms and hunt like a man.

  Lena Wright had ranted and raged until John Wright told Kitty they would go together another time. Since she was old enough to tag along behind him, Kitty had loved to go into the woods with her father, but she didn’t pursue the argument any further that day. She and her father both knew only too well that Lena would make their lives miserable for days on end if she were opposed. It was easier to give in.

  Kitty motioned to Jacob. “You go to the barn and stay with Betsy. Let me get my shawl, and I’ll be right there.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t,” the sharp voice made Kitty snap her head around to find her mother standing just behind her, face pinched with anger. “I’m not going to have you out there groveling in blood and straw like a common farmhand…”

  This time, Kitty was determined not to give in to her. She brushed past, moving toward the little lean-to kitchen her father had built onto the house. Lena insisted on attempting to pattern her lifestyle after the rich plantation owners as nearly as possible, refusing to accept the fact that they were but poor dirt farmers. A separate room for cooking had been something she had nagged about until she got it.

  “Katherine.” Her mother was right behind her. “Do you hear me, girl? Let Jacob see to that old cow. How do you think it would look to our neighbors? You groveling like a slave…”

  Kitty pulled a worn woolen shawl around her shoulders, then turned to give her mother a defiant look. “I can deliver that calf as well, or better, than any farmhand or slave, Mother, and we can’t afford to lose that calf. Betsy is old and might not make it through the birth. Then what would we do for milk and butter this winter? Poppa will be home soon, but I’ve got to do whatever I can till he gets here.”

  “Jacob can do what has to be done.” She followed her to the door, stepping back as the sudden blast of cold wind engulfed her. Kitty ran on down the rickety steps into the dirt yard.

  “You let Jacob do it, I say!” Lena screamed.

  Kitty turned long enough to shout back, “Jacob doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do, Mother. He isn’t a slave, anymore. He stays because he’s our friend!”

  Jolted by bitter memories, Lena’s face twisted into an ugly grimace as she raised a fist in the air and shrieked, “He was a slave, till your father got those damned foolish Federalist notions, and now you see how the land starves for want of hands to work it…how you allow yourself to become a common peasant girl with calloused hands and sun-parched skin.”

  Kitty ran on across the yard, eager to escape the shrieking tirade. Reaching the barn, she yanked open the heavy door and stepped inside to find Jacob there, kneeling beside the cow. He moved aside to let her stoop down beside him.

  “It’s going to be okay, girl.” Kitty patted the animal on her flanks.

  “She’s hurtin’ something fierce. I can feel her belly knotting’ up and lettin’ go, but nothin’ happens that I can see.”

  The cow was still standing, tied inside a stall, and Kitty said she needed to be moved into the main part of the barn so she wouldn’t be so restrained. Jacob did as she instructed, then she told him to stand by while she went after lard.

  He blinked at her in wonder. “Lard?”

  “I may have to pull that calf out,” she snapped. “Haven’t you ever heard about using lard in a difficult birth, Jacob, as many babies as Fanny has brought into the world?”

  His thick lips spread into a wide grin, showing yellowed, chipped teeth. “Yassum, I knowed about it, all right, but I didn’t think you did.”

  “You’re as bad as Mother. Just because most of the young girls about are so silly and empty-headed that they faint at the thought of giving birth doesn’t mean that I should, too. I’m me, Jacob, not a twin to every spineless female about!”

  Silently she scolded herself for snapping at him. It wasn’t his fault that he questioned her rebellion against the established role of womanhood, a young lady’s “place”, as Lena called it. Everyone about raised eyebrows over her behavior, even her father and old Doc Musgrave, the two people who seemed to understand her—and humor her—even if they did, at times, look upon her in complete bewilderment—and amusement.

  Lena was standing inside the kitchen door, waiting to start a fresh onslaught of criticism, but Kitty ignored her as she hurried into the pantry to fill a bucket with soft lard.

  “Just what do you plan to do with that? Katherine, I don’t know what’s to become of you. You’re going to wind up a spinster, that’s what. Look at you! Eighteen years old and no young man courting. What man wants a wife who acts like a man instead of a lady? I’m going to insist that your father send you to the Goldsboro Female College. Maybe they can teach you what I haven’t been able to.

  “Oh, Katherine…” She followed her once again to the door. “I’ve wanted much better for you than what life has given to me. Why won’t you listen to me?”

  Kitty hurried from the house, anxious to escape the familiar harangue that she knew by heart. There was no money for the fancy finishing school, so there was no need to worry about that threat. Poppa wouldn’t hear of it, anyway. He understood her and knew how she felt about life. They spent much time talking together, whenever she could get out of the house and away from Lena, who insisted that she spend so many hours each day tatting or sewing or doing other things Kitty considered boring and a waste of time. Why should she have to do those things just because she was a girl? She was still an individual, wasn’t she? She a right to live her own life the way she wanted, didn’t she? At least Poppa understood, and she loved him all the more for it. Life would have been completely unbearable if it weren’t for the times they were able to slip away together to hunt and fish.

  Of course, Lena Wright blamed her husband for the way their daughter had turned out, saying because she couldn’t give him a son, he, in turn, tried to make their daughter into a son, and she intended to fight him with every breath in her body.

  Kitty was used to hearing the threats that she would surely wind up a spinster, and this never failed to make her bristle angrily. What difference did it make, anyway, if she couldn’t marry for love? She despised the way the young girls around primed themselves for marriage as though it were their sole purpose in having been born a female—to be some man’s wife and have a baby every year and sit around and tat or sew and try to look prett
y. Why, the rich women with slaves even had wet nurses for their babies—black women with milk in their breasts, who suckled their mistresses’ babies—so their mistresses’ breasts would not sag.

  Ridiculous, Kitty thought, and she wanted no part of it.

  Besides, she thought with a sudden flutter, there was only one man in all of Wayne County that she even wanted to come calling, and that was Nathan Collins. She didn’t dare let her mother know she felt that way, either, or she would stop at nothing to promote the union, which would be quite embarrassing. Nathan was the son of the country’s richest plantation owner, and every young girl of age chased after him. There were even rumors that certain married women took a fancy to him also. Kitty saw him in church on Sundays, and once in a while at a rare community social, but more often than not that snobby Nancy Warren was wrapped around him.

  Shoving aside thoughts of Nathan, she quickened her steps at the sound of Jacob’s anxious calling. “Miss Kitty, it’s gonna be all right. The calf is comin’. I can see it now.”

  She hurried to examine the cow, then rocked back on her heels and shook her head. “That’s a hoof coming, Jacob. That’s not the right way for a calf to be born.”

  Betsy gave a mournful cry, her body shuddering in pain.

  “No wonder it’s such a hard birth.” Kitty began rolling up her sleeves. “I’m going to have to turn the calf…”

  Suddenly the barn door squeaked behind them, but Kitty didn’t bother to turn around. Her father wouldn’t be home for some time yet, so it could only be Lena, coming in to continue her nagging. Kitty knew she wouldn’t stay long, though, once she saw all the blood.

  Lena took one look at the sight before her and covered her face with her with her handkerchief as she swayed and reached out for a nearby supporting post to steady her. “Come out of here at once, Katherine,” she commanded, gagging as she turned her face away. “I demand that you leave this minute.”

  “Go back to the house, Mother,” Kitty snapped. “I’ve got work to do, and it has to be done quickly, or we’ll lose both Betsy and her calf.”

  “But you have a caller,” Lena sounded desperate, pleading. “And it won’t do for him to find you here. It’s Nathan Collins, Katherine. Now please come out of here. This might be your big chance to mix and mingle with the right people in this county.”

  Kitty didn’t speak.

  “Katherine, don’t you see? I’ve wanted this for you all your life. This is your chance. He’s waiting for you in the house now. Please…please come with me.”

  At the sound of Nathan’s name, Kitty felt another flutter, and an unfamiliar warmth rippled through her body. But she was not about to walk out now and leave Jacob to do something she knew she could do better. “Just tell him I’m busy. I’m sorry, but please…just go and leave us alone.”

  The door squeaked again, and Kitty’s attention was back on Betsy as she smeared lard up and down her arms, unaware that anyone else had entered the barn until she heard a shocked voice say, “Katherine Wright, whatever are you doing?”

  Whipping her head about, she was only vaguely aware of her mother’s stricken face as she realized Nathan Collins was standing there, breathtakingly handsome in a tweed riding habit, leather crop held in gloved hands, soft, sand-colored curls tumbling down upon his forehead. His brows were knit together quizzically, the play of a smile on his lips.

  For a moment, Kitty just stared at him. Oh, why did he have to come out here and find her like this, down on her knees in the straw, in a blood-stained dress with lard smearing up and down her arms?

  Betsy bellowed mournfully, and there was no time to dwell on the predicament. “I have to deliver this calf, Nathan. She’s having a hard time, and we can’t afford to lose her or her calf.”

  Clearing his throat self-consciously, he said, “Well, I suppose the gentlemanly thing for me to do would be to assist you, Katherine, but I’m afraid I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

  She managed a laugh. “Well, I have. I’ve helped Poppa with the farm animals since I was a child.” She waited for the cow’s contraction to subside, then slipped greased hands inside the birth canal, explaining that it was necessary to work fast between contractions, adding, “He’s trying to come out turned the wrong way.”

  Lena took a peek, gasped, then turned away again. “I don’t think you should be here, Katherine,” she said feebly.

  “Why not, Mother?” she couldn’t miss the opportunity to goad her a bit. She gave her long reddish-blond braids a toss back from her perspiring face and said, “To hear you talk, women are fit for nothing except what this old cow is doing right now—having a baby!”

  “Oh, Katherine!” Lena gasped again. “To speak of such a thing in front of Nathan…”

  Jacob and Kitty looked at each other and exchanged grins as Lena hurried from the barn.

  Nathan’s presence was forgotten for the moment as Kitty worked her hands in and out between Betsy’s contractions, turning the calf gently into a position for birth and finally easing it downward. The process was slow and tedious, and Kitty felt as though she were walking on eggs—each step had to be made carefully, lest something break.

  “You should be a doctor, Miss Kitty,” Jacob whispered reverently, his eyes looking upon her with respect. “I seen men before that couldn’t do what you’re doin’!”

  “When it depends on food in your stomach, Jacob, you work that much harder. Besides, I’ve watched Poppa, and I’ve slipped off with Doc Musgrave on a few occasions.”

  Nathan watched in silent amazement. Katherine Wright was easily the most beautiful young woman in all of Wayne County. Men talked about her silken golden hair, and her eyes so blue they were almost purple. Violet, someone once called them, violet eyes that danced with the fire of the devil in hell when she was riled.

  His eyes moved slowly over her body, which was also graciously endowed with the physical attributes of feminine beauty, with voluptuous breasts straining against the confines of her dress. Her waist was so tiny that she had no need for featherbone corsets that other less fortunate young women so tightly laced themselves into.

  Nathan thought how beautiful she was, even at such a moment. And even though his parents, particularly his father, were adamantly opposed to his courting the daughter of a Federalist sympathizer, Nathan’s eyes reflected his desire for her. He had lain awake many nights with the image of her in his mind, wanting to taste the sweetness of her lips and hold her body close, wrapping himself in her warmth.

  Kitty had been on her knees, and suddenly she fell back on her bottom with an undignified plop, as the calf slid from its mother. They all laughed with relief as the wet, slick animal fought to stand on his wobbly legs, his mother already beginning to nuzzle him lovingly.

  Jacob was jumping up and down, crying, “I can’t wait to tell your pappy, missy. He’s gonna be real proud of what you done. I’m gonna go find Fanny and tell her right now.” And he ran from the barn excitedly.

  Suddenly, Kitty was all too aware of her appearance—bloody, lard-smeared arms, stained dress, perspiration dripping down her face. She knew she smelled terribly, too. With embarrassment, she looked at Nathan. “I’m sorry. I’m a sight, I know. But this had to be done…”

  “I understand.” He nodded and smiled slightly, and she thought how lovely were the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. “I heard that your father freed his slaves last year, Katherine, and I don’t imagine it’s easy running this farm without any.”

  “Oh, we never had all that many,” she said quickly, wiping her hands on a nearby rag. “Poppa never believed in owning slaves. The only reason we ever had any at all was because of my mother. To her, slaves are a status symbol. Poppa finally freed what we had, but Jacob and Fanny stayed on, because they love Poppa so.”

  Leaning against a post, he watched as she rinsed her face and arms in a pail of clean water. “I remember when we used to go to the settlement school,” he said thoughtfully. “James Freeman came to schoo
l one day with a little slave boy totin’ his books for him. The slave boy dropped the books in a mud puddle, and James thought he did it on purpose, so he took the book strap and started beating him with it. You jumped on James and shoved him down in the puddle. You really gave him a beating. I never saw a girl fight like that before. You punched him right in the face with your fists.”

  Kitty felt her face grow hot. “It wasn’t very ladylike of me to fight like that. Momma gave me one of the worst whippings of my life when she found out, but I couldn’t stand back and watch James beat that boy like he was a mongrel dog.”

  “I’ve never forgotten that day.” Nathan smiled.

  “Slavery gets me all fired up,” she retorted.

  “You might feel differently if your father had a large plantation and needed a lot of slaves to run it. I’ve heard when he did have slaves, he actually paid them for working.”

  Their eyes met and held, and, for a moment, Kitty was able to shove aside her feelings for Nathan as she said vehemently, “I would never hold to putting a man in chains or thinking it’s right to own his soul, Nathan. I think it’s wrong to buy and sell human beings as though they’re no more than animals. On this subject, you and I and everyone else in Wayne County…in the whole South, it seems, differ in our opinions.”

  He gave her a mock salute, and his eyes crinkled once again at the corners. “It’s refreshing to find a young woman with an opinion. Maybe that’s why I like you so much…because you’re so different from the girls I’m usually around.”

  “Well, if that’s meant to be a compliment, thank you.”

  “I came here to invite you to a party,” he went on, “but I’m afraid when you hear the reason for the party you’ll refuse my invitation.”

  “I’m curious about the party, Nathan,” Kitty said, “and I’d like to hear about it.”

  He took a deep breath, then said, “You know who Weldon Edwards is?”

  “Who doesn’t? He’s a Radical. I know who he is and why he comes to this part of the state. Poppa talks to me about politics, and he says that Weldon Edwards is trying to round up support for the secessionist meeting planned in Raleigh.”