Love and Glory: The Coltrane Saga, Book 3 by Patricia Hagan Read Free Book Online Page B

silent, glaring at her. Travis had tried to stop her, but she kept right on singing. Then General Sherman himself came galloping back through the line to see what was causing the disturbance. Kitty smiled tearfully, thinking of it.
    Lottie leaned over to place her dark hand on Kitty’s arm and give her a gentle shake. “You know it ain’t too late, missy,” she said quietly. “You could tell him the truth.”
    Kitty did not reply. Was she just possibly sending Travis away so she could follow her own dream and return to nursing? Was she, too, tired of grubbing on the little dirt farm? No! She gripped the leather reins tightly, squeezing her fingers against the worn thongs. She loved the farm and she loved Travis, and she would never send him away except for his own terrible needs.
    She looked over at John, sleeping contentedly with his head against Lottie’s big bosom. His home was being torn apart because his parents could not settle down and make a life for him. One had the wanderlust, and the other was not content without doing a man’s work. Selfish, John’s parents were selfish. It wasn’t fair. But Kitty knew they could not help being what they were.
    The clouds that had been gathering since they had left home now began to unleash a steady downpour. Kitty twisted around to retrieve the tarpaulin kept in the wagon bed, and Lottie spread it on top of her and John, but Kitty pushed it away when part of it was offered to her. Perhaps the cool rain would soothe a little of the pain, she thought.
    By the time they reached the train station, Kitty was soaking wet.
    “You gonna catch a cold,” Lottie fussed with agitation. “You gonna take the fever and die. Just you wait and see.”
    “It’s not a very cold rain, Lottie,” Kitty said quietly, glancing around at the few people waiting for the train.
    She got down out of the wagon and tied the mule’s reins to a hitching post. “Take John and go wait under the shelter,” she told Lottie. “I’m going to look for Sam and Travis.”
    Everyone under the shelter turned to stare at the young woman with golden-red hair stringing down her back, wearing wet and clinging men’s trousers. Her shirt also stuck to her, revealing her firm, rounded breasts, the nipples protruding. But Kitty was oblivious to the stares or the picture she was presenting. There was one thought in her mind, to find Travis and Sam.
    She glanced at the large clock hanging just above the door to the station ticket office. Nine forty-five. There was little time left, and even as she had the thought, the distant, mournful wail of a whistle sounded. She looked down the lonely stretch of crossties and railings to see puffs of grayish smoke drifting upward. At any moment, the big engine would chug into view. Where is Travis? Where is Sam?
    She pushed her way through the crowd on the platform. With her heart pounding, Kitty suddenly spied a familiar face. Of all people, she sighed. She started to push on by, not about to waste precious moments dickering with the little snit.
    “If you’re looking for that no-good husband of yours, I might be able to tell you where you can find him.”
    Kitty froze, then turned slowly to look at the smug smile on Nancy Danton’s haughty face.
    “I said I might be able to tell you,” Nancy said in a syrupy voice. “I didn’t say I would, now did I?”
    Kitty could hear the train. There was no time to waste. “Nancy, if you know where Travis is, please tell me,” she cried, unable to keep the desperation from her voice. Let the vixen enjoy her moment of gloating, Kitty could stand that.
    Nancy, wearing a bright yellow dress trimmed in lace and ruffles, twirled her matching parasol, which pointed at her neat kid boots.
    “Please,” Kitty said through gritted teeth, “tell me where I can find Travis.”
    With a shrill laugh that grated against what was left of Kitty’s nerves, Nancy pointed a white-gloved finger toward the station. “The dirty old drunk is in