Free Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7 by Patricia Hagan Page A

dreams have a way of fading into the realities of life, and Kurt had gone off to college to study to be a lawyer like his father. Guthrie’s family was poor so he had gone to work in a local store, sweeping and cleaning. Toiling nights as well as days, he’d saved enough money to manage the down payment on a tiny farm just outside town. He married and had a baby. By the time Kurt came back to open his own law office, his parents had died. He was alone—except for his old friend Guthrie and Guthrie’s wife, Janie…and a comely young lady named Edwina Chandler, whom he planned to marry.
    Edwina was pretty—and spoiled, the daughter of one of the richest men in Springfield. She was destined to be a society queen like her mother, and her fiancé’s choice of a best friend was not to her liking. It was a bone of contention between them.
    Then came the hot August night Kurt would remember until his grave—the night he was scarred on his face—and on his soul.
    Guthrie had gone into town to get some medicine for his sick baby. A group of drunks started picking on him, breaking the precious bottle of expensive medicine he’d just bought with hard-earned money.
    Guthrie lost his temper and fought back. He landed a blow to the chin of a redneck who fell backward and hit his head on a rock. The drunk didn’t get up. Though the man eventually woke up with only a terrible headache and a vague memory of what had taken place, his friends decided instantly that he was dead, and, that the Negro who had killed him must be lynched.
    Guthrie had run away. He tried to find Kurt, the one person he could depend on to help him. He went first to his office, then to the rooming house where he lived, not knowing that Kurt had stopped in a saloon for a drink. Finally, in blind desperation, Guthrie went to Miss Edwina, hoping that there he would find Kurt. He had no idea that to Miss Edwina he was just a Negro, and by her standards, worthless. It made no difference that he was the lifelong friend of the man she was engaged to. She had told him that Kurt wasn’t there but that she would try to find him, directing Guthrie to hide in the cellar. Only she never called Kurt; she called the sheriff instead. One of the crazy-drunk rednecks looking for him was there, and overheard the conversation. The sheriff could not hold back the angry, blood-crazed mob that quickly formed. They dragged Guthrie, terrified and pleading for his life, out of Miss Edwina’s cellar.
    That was when someone finally went into the saloon and told Kurt what was happening. He ran to the hanging tree at the courthouse square…and was nearly beaten to death for daring to interfere. He woke up with Edwina leaning over him, sobbing as she stared down at his bloodied, battered face. Nearby, swinging from a rope tied to a tree limb, was the body of his friend.
    “Oh, why did you have to interfere?” Edwina had cried. “Why didn’t you just stay out of it? I told them where to find him, and he got what he deserved, and—”
    They told him later that he’d tried to strangle Edwina. He might have killed her if they hadn’t pulled him off her, but he didn’t remember any of it in his mindless fury. The next morning he had awakened with a blinding headache…and the realization that he didn’t want to spend another day in a town so full of prejudice and hatred that such a nightmare could have happened. He went to the bank and took out what money he had, giving it to Janie Hadden. She was in such shock that it would be days before she realized that a small fortune had been bestowed upon her.
    Then Kurt left town, never to return.
    He had drifted for over a year, not caring where he went, what he did. He earned enough money to eat by doing odd jobs, construction work, railroad work, finally learning to herd cattle as he worked his way southwest. Then he met Francisco Madero.
    He had been living well. He enjoyed his success, and he enjoyed women, keeping his guard up, however,