Love and Glory: The Coltrane Saga, Book 3 (48 page)

Travis did not respond.

Welby leaned forward, eyes shining with excitement. “If I were older and more experienced, like you, I’ll bet I could be sent someplace where there’s some action. It’ll be dull as hell here now ’cause you’ve cleaned everything up.

“I’ll bet,” he rushed on, “I could even be sent to California. Things are busting wide open out there, what with the ‘Yellow Peril’ and all.”

Travis paused and looked at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked quietly.

Welby grinned, glad he had finally found something to interest the famous Travis Coltrane. “The Chinese,” he explained eagerly. “You know how they’ve been coming over in droves. They work cheap. Railroad building out West has brought in a bunch of coolies, but now there’s too many of them. They’re taking jobs away from white men, and the white men are accusing employers of bringing the coolies in to hold wages down.

“There’s all kinds of violence because of it,” he continued. “Why, one night a mob hanged twenty-three Chinese.”

Travis sighed, gave his pistol one last swipe with a rag, and returned it to his holster. “I wonder,” he mused, “if I will ever see peace in my lifetime. If it’s not Negroes it’s Chinese. God, will it ever stop?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. “No, Abbot. I won’t be going to California to look for excitement. I’m going to look for peace. I may not find it, but I’m damn well going to search for it.”

Welby dropped his voice, a sympathetic expression taking over his face. “I heard you’ve been through a lot, Marshal. I hope you do find some happiness.”

Travis flashed him a wry grin. “Didn’t say I was looking for happiness. Just some peace.”

The door opened then and Munroe walked in, grinning broadly. “Marshal! How you doin’?” he greeted him, holding out his hand. “I swear it’s gonna be an awful time around here when you leave. Me and my people, we can’t stand the thought of you goin’.”

“Well, you’d better learn to stand it fast,” Travis told him quickly. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. This is your new marshal, Welby Abbott.” To Welby he said, “This is Munroe, and if you ever need a job done, call on him. He’s a good man.”

They shook hands, then Travis asked, “What brings you into town? I thought Barbeau had given you a good-paying job that was keeping you real busy. Part of his way of reforming.”

Munroe grinned, head bobbing up and down. “He did. I got a fine job now. He even lets me live on the place, and my daddy, too. But he let me off to ride into town to bring you a message. He heard the new marshal was comin’, and he said he didn’t want you leavin’ without talkin’ to him. He said for
me to come ask you would you ride out to the house and have dinner with him tonight?”

Travis started to say no, but Munroe rushed on quickly, “And Miz Alaina, she say she gonna talk to you before you leaves. She say if you don’t come hear what she got to say, then she gonna come to town. She’s waitin’ fo’ me to get back and tell her what you said, ’cause if you ain’t comin’, then she say she gonna make me bring her back to town to see you.”

Travis thought for a minute. He had not spoken with Alaina since the night she shot her father. She had not showed up at the grand jury hearings. Marilee had not been there, either, but he had gone out to see her. She had been coolly withdrawn, and he had made up his mind to leave Kentucky without seeing her again.

“What do they want to see me about, Munroe?”

Munroe smiled, gesturing helplessly. “I don’t know. Things is different out there, Marshal. Mastah Barbeau, he ain’t the same. He been saved. You didn’t know that, did you? The parson, he come to the house one night…at least that’s what Rosa told me. She say the parson come and he prayed with Mastah Barbeau, and Mastah Barbeau, he give his life to the Lord. Rosa say he a changed man, a good man. She say she hears him in his study cryin’ lots of nights.

“And Miz Alaina”—he paused to take a deep breath before rushing on—“Rosa say she changed, too. She got saved, too, you see. And she hates herself fo’ blowin’ her daddy’s arm off, and Rosa say she hates herself worse for meanin’ to blow your head off.”

Travis could not help glancing at Welby.

Munroe saw the looks they exchanged and his smile faded. “Now don’t you all go to makin’ fun o’ me. I knows what I talkin’ about, ’cause Rosa told me, and Rosa knows evahthin’ what goes on in that house. You come on out there tonight and see fo’ yo’self that evahbody has changed,” he finished indignantly.

Munroe began to tap his foot impatiently. “Well, you just make up yo’ mind. Now Rosa, she’d be tickled to death to see you. And Willis. You made lots o’ friends around here, Marshal, and it ain’t right you should just ride off and not say good-bye. How come you won’t come on out and eat just one meal with Mastah Barbeau?” He paused to give Travis a piercing look. “Sho’, he sinned,” he said quietly, pointedly, “but if the Lord Jesus can fo’give him, how come you can’t?”

“Your Lord Jesus is in the business of forgiving,” Travis snapped. “That’s not my job.”

Munroe looked aghast. “Why…why, that’s…that’s blas’my! The Good Book say to fo’give yo’ enemy, and that’s just what you gotta do.”

“I don’t
gotta
do anything, Munroe.” Just then there was a sound at the door, and Travis glanced up to see Sam fumbling with the latch. Travis quickly jumped to his feet, swinging the door open and holding it back so Sam could hobble through on his crudely carved crutches.

Sam nodded to Munroe, then spotted the stranger wearing the familiar badge, and a grin spread across Sam’s bearded face. “Well, well!” he cried, lowering himself into the chair Travis had vacated. “You must be the new marshal. Good! That means we can be on our way first thing tomorrow.”

“Welby Abbott,” Travis made the introductions. “Abbott, Sam Bucher.”

Welby stepped forward to clasp the older man’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you men. My job will be easy, thanks to the one you two did here.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t know about that. There will still be those who want to make trouble, both whites and coloreds, and—” He paused, looking at Munroe. “What’s the matter? What are you doing here? Don’t tell me something’s happened.”

Munroe quickly explained while Travis turned his back on them to stare at the wall.

“I’s goin’ now,” Munroe finished. “And I gonna tell the truth. That Marshal Coltrane just didn’t wanna come. And Miz Alaina, she be here soon. She got somethin’ she wants to say, and she seems mighty set to say it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Goddamn it, Travis! Do you have to be so stubborn? Why don’t you ride out there and see what everybody wants so that woman won’t come charging in here?”

Travis whirled on him, eyes narrowed. “I have nothing to say to any of them.”

“Even to Marilee? Don’t you want to say good-bye to her?” Sam asked harshly.

Suddenly Welby Abbott could restrain himself no longer. He laughed and said, “I’ve heard what a ladies’ man you are, Coltrane. Go on and ride out to say good-bye to the ladies and leave broken hearts. I can take care of things here. I’ve never been one to stand in the way of romance.” His voice trailed off as he caught the look on Travis’ face.

Munroe stepped back toward the door, wanting to get out of the way.

Sam muttered, “Oh, hell!” under his breath and shook his head.

In a tightly restrained voice, Travis said, “Abbott, the only reason I’m not rearranging your teeth is because you don’t know any better. Just keep your mouth out of my business. And anything you may have heard about me, you can keep quiet about too.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Welby whispered, swallowing hard. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

“Sometimes that can get you killed.”

Travis sat opposite Jordan Barbeau in the familiar study, sipping brandy, puffing on a cigar, and wishing the moment would end. He still had to speak with Alaina, had not seen Marilee, and time was passing very slowly.

“So I have seen the folly of my ways,” Jordan was saying, “I asked the Lord to forgive me, to teach me to love my fellow man and regard him as a brother, no matter what color his skin. And if I can live with myself now, then I don’t care what other people think of me, Marshal. I’ve got peace with the Lord.”

He cocked his head to the right, indicating, his missing arm, his coat sleeve carefully pinned under the stump just inches from his shoulder. “This is what I hate most of all,” he said emotionally. “Not for my sake. I consider this a penance for my transgressions. It’s for Alaina that I regret it. She hasn’t forgiven herself, and I don’t think she ever will. It’s a terrible thing to look at your father every day, see him maimed, and know you are responsible. I love her dearly, but I will be glad for her to marry and move away so she will not be tortured by looking at me.”

Travis downed the rest of his brandy, grateful for the opening. “Speaking of Alaina,” he said quickly, “I understand she wanted to see me, and I do need to be on my way back to town soon.”

“Of course, of course.” With his left hand, Jordan picked up a tiny silver bell from his desk and gave it a jingle. “I appreciate your taking the time to ride out here, Marshal. I wanted to make sure there was peace between you and me.”

Travis held up his hands. “Everything is fine between us, Barbeau. It’s over as far as I’m concerned. Now if I could speak to Alaina…”

The door opened and Willis appeared, pausing to flash a friendly smile at Travis before addressing himself to Jordan, “Sir, you wanted something?”

“The marshal would like to speak with Miss Alaina.”

“She’s waitin’ in the settin’ room.”

Travis rose and walked to clasp Jordan’s remaining hand. “I’ll say good-bye then. Good luck with your new life.” He turned and walked swiftly from the room, not giving the other man time to make further conversation.

Alaina was sitting on a red velvet sofa, staring pensively into the fireplace. When Travis entered the room, Willis closed the door softly behind him, leaving them alone.

She rose, brows furrowed in worry. How would he receive her? She pressed her palms together beneath her bosom, which spilled provocatively from the daring cut of her white taffeta gown. Travis’ eyes swept over her appreciatively. She was still one hell of a beautiful woman.

Her face was haloed by the sweeping brush of her long, flowing light brown hair, and the emerald eyes she lifted to him were moist as she whispered, “Do you hate me, Travis?”

“No,” he said shortly, walking across the room to stand before the fire. She followed his every movement. “I don’t hate you, Alaina. You were hysterical that night to the point of insanity. But if you hadn’t missed,” he added with a sardonic smile, “I probably would.”

She tried to smile also but instead lowered her face to her hands and burst into tears. He made no move to comfort her. This was her business, not his.

After a few moments, she regained her composure. “I love you,” she said quietly, surely. “Only you. If I had killed you, then I would have taken my own life. You’re the only man I have ever truly loved, Travis.”

She took a step forward, gesturing pleadingly. “If you will only give me a chance to prove what I feel for you, Travis, you’ll realize—”

“No!” He held up his hands to fend her off, his expression grim. “No more, Alaina. You’re a beautiful woman. You have everything a man could desire. But I desire you only in bed. That’s not the kind of love a man and woman should share for long. There has to be more.”

Her face twisted. “There can be more. I’ll make more.”

“No!” he repeated sharply, an edge to his voice. “I don’t love you, Alaina. I never have and never will. I’m not trying to hurt you, but I have to be honest.”

She started to speak, but he quickly covered her lips with gentle fingers. “Don’t say more,” he said softly, kindly. “You will only regret it later. I don’t like taking a woman’s pride any more than I like her tossing it aside. Let’s part friends.”

She drew in her breath, closed her eyes, and nodded. He removed his fingertips and murmured, “I wish you well, Alaina. I regret much of what happened. Don’t look back. Just go on from here. You’ll meet someone else.”

“No one like you,” she choked, fighting to hold back the tears. “No one ever like you, Travis Coltrane.”

He chuckled softly and smiled, “One day you may give thanks for that.”

“No hard feelings?” she asked, desperately wanting reassurance. “I have enough to live with, knowing I caused my father to lose an arm. I don’t want to think you hate me.”

He touched her cheek in a gentle caress. “No, Alaina. I don’t hate you.”
 

He turned to leave without another word.

He opened the door and stepped outside, closing it quickly behind him, hearing her sobs but not turning back.

Willis was standing in the foyer.

Travis took his hand, squeezed it in good-bye, then asked, “Would you tell Miss Marilee I would like to speak to her before I go?”

Willis looked apologetic. “She left ’fore you ever got here, Marshal. When she heard you was comin’, she just walked out. I don’t know where she was goin’. You want me to give her a message?”

Travis shook his head. He believed he knew where she had gone. Forcing his voice to be bright, he slapped Willis on the shoulder and said, “Take care of yourself and your people.”