Chapter 43

Several weeks later, there came the news that Rhett Butler was in town. He had just alighted from his train at the Atlanta station and hailed a passing coach when Rene Picard waved to him from one of the wrought iron benches. Beside Rene sat Maybelle Merriweather with her little boy and they too had arrived just then and were waiting for Grandpa to bring the coach. They spoke for a while and then Rhett left. By the afternoon, the whole town knew that Rhett Butler had not gone to his house at Peachtree street but was pointedly staying at the National Hotel.

When the news finally reached Scarlett's ears, she at first felt a surge of anger. She had worked very hard to cultivate her friends and she had won most of them over except for the old matrons of Atlanta. Now by staying at the National Hotel, Scarlett felt Rhett was going out of his way to show everyone that all was not right in his family. "How tongues must wag at this!" thought Scarlett, in helpless fury. "Why can't he just come here?! It isn't as if I am going to pounce on him and eat him or something! Why does he behave as if I would hurt him?! He is the one hurting me!"

But Scarlett found she could carrying on with her work despite Rhett's shenanigans. She lifted her chin and dressed in the same hardy travel clothes and made her trips, hoping against hope that Rhett would still be in Atlanta when she came back and would come to their house. She hoped and hoped and there was nothing else she could do.

The days passed and almost every week she heard news of Rhett but he never once stepped into the house and she never saw him at the local bazaars or balls. She began to grow in despair. "If it had been any other woman she would have handled things differently" thought Scarlett to herself bitterly. Her hand gripped the glass of brandy unsteadily as she swung down its contents.

Then finally, something of an opportunity showed itself the following week. Pork had gone to the town to call the farrier to tend to her horses when he had come rushing back in an hour's time.

"Miss Scarlett.. Miss Scarlett.." he called with utmost urgency outside her door.

"What is it, Pork?" asked Scarlett, stepping into the hallway.

"Excuse me, Miss Scarlett, I don't mean to be forward but it's about Mist. Rhett-"

"What about him?" she asked sharply.

Pork licked his dried up lips and said with wide eyes, "When I went down into the main street, I saw some Yankees standing outside the saloon with guns in their hands and they were all yelling and hollerin.. and I got closer and I saw Mist. Rhett at the front of the crowd. There had been a brawl-"

"Is he hurt?!" asked Scarlett, anxiously.

"No Maam" replied Pork. "But he's drunk himself silly"

"What?!"

"Yes Maam.. Mist. Rhett's drunk as when he used to drink when Miss. Bonnie.. bless her little soul.. was passed away.. And he is just propped up there on one of the chairs and I think thre might have been a shoot out-"

"Oh no!" cried Scarlett, leaping to her feet and snatching up her cloak as she ran outside to the coach. "I must go there before its too late!"

"Miss. Scarlett, the Yankees took away Mist. Rhett's gun. But if he keeps protesting like he is now, he might end up in-"

"Pork, you come with me.. only you can handle Rhett- Come with me!"

Scarlett's mind worked fast. She was taking a risk. A huge calculated risk. Her plan was to get to the saloon, wade through the crowd, brush away the Yankees and bring Rhett home. She knew by doing this, everyone would openly know that's she cared about Rhett and with the backing of the crowd's sympathy and favour on her side, Rhett wouldn't have the gall to refuse her flag of truce.

She was taking a risk. And it was backed up by sound logic. She would win. She felt sure of it.