Free Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 by Patricia Hagan Page B

“Gentlemen, you are all fools!” she exploded as heads turned, mouths dropped open in shock. “You condemn my father for not joining in your enthusiasm for war, but have any of you ever stopped to listen to the wisdom of his words? He says there’s not a factory to build cannons that lies below the Mason-Dixon Line. And what about the cotton factories? With the exception of North Carolina, there aren’t many others, and we can’t supply the whole South if war comes.”
    They continued to stare at her silently, a few of them coughing nervously as they darted sidelong glances at Nathan, who was shuffling uncomfortably. Then he started toward her, but she stepped back, holding up her hands to hold him away, not about to be led off once again like a naughty child.
    “The Yankees will blockade our harbors quickly, and then where will we be? Could you get cotton out to sell overseas? The Yankees have the factories and the money. The South has nothing but a bunch of patriotic-minded fools who think there is glory in war!”
    “Kitty, that’s enough!” Nathan’s voice was harsh, rasping, as he grabbed her outstretched arms and shoved them down to her sides, gripping and giving her a shake. He whispered, “Let me take you home. Obviously, you don’t feel well…”
    Jerking away from him, she cried, “I feel very well. I refuse to let you people make me sick!”
    “Nathan…” Lavinia Collins ran onto the veranda, her face white with shock, her personal maid beside her, fluttering nervously in fear that her mistress would faint. “Nathan, do you know what this…this creature has done? She’s poured water on little Nancy Warren!”
    A round of laughter went up from the young men, and one of them called out, “Nancy should be glad Kitty didn’t have a gun, or she’d be nursing a wound like your overseer.”
    Nathan’s hands fell away from his grip on her arms. It was too much. “Oh, Kitty…” he moaned, shaking his head.
    She knew she had shamed him and, turning, she ran toward the end of the veranda and the side steps. “Wait, I’ll get the carriage…” Nathan called.
    “No…I don’t need you…” Kitty cried, hoisting her skirts once again to run down the steps. “I don’t need anyone…”
    Across the lawn she ran, her carefully coiffured hair failing down around her face. She headed straight for the woods. It was a good two miles or more to her house through the woods and swamps, but she had hunted these parts for years and knew her way. The walk would be good for her, she decided, slowing down as she made her way through the thicket. She needed the time to sort out everything that had happened, before she faced her mother.
    The scream halted Kitty’s steps. Here, the woods were thick, with brambles and thickets of overgrowth. Her dress was being snagged and torn, but she’d been too angry to care.
    “Master, don’t…please don’t, the baby…”
    Turning toward the direction of the pleading cries, Kitty saw a clearing she hadn’t realized was about. Moving closer, she realized she was right next to the slave compound for the Collins plantation. There were perhaps a dozen or more wooden shacks lined up in a circle around a clearing. The porches of the houses were clustered with frightened, wide-eyed slaves. Small children clutched their mothers’ legs, peering out from behind at the scene taking place in the middle of the clearing.
    A young black girl, swollen with child, lay writhing in the dirt at the feet of a white man who held a whip in his left hand—his right arm was wrapped in a sling.
    Luke Tate!
    “Don’t beat me, please. You’ll kill my baby…”
    “I’ll kill you, you black wench. I’ll teach you to steal…” He reached down with his left hand, still holding the whip, and with a quick yank, ripped her thin cotton dress from her body. She groveled naked at his feet, trying to wrap her arms around her bulging, unprotected stomach—and her unborn child.
    The Collins