The Widows of Braxton County (4 page)

Two glowing eyes stared at her from beneath one of the trees. Startled, her light wavered and she gasped.

At the sound of her voice, the cat turned and scurried off.

Propping her elbows on the railing, Kate shut off her light and stared out into the darkness. Warm humid air, as soft as a lover’s touch, caressed her skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of flowers tickled her nose, but Joe had been wrong. The still night did harbor another odor—the slight smell of the hog lot she’d seen that afternoon.

As she straightened, her lips twisted in irony. So many changes—the sights, the sounds, the different ways. They even used different words for the same meal. Kate felt a flicker of uncertainty. Would she ever fit in? Could she become accustomed to living out in the boonies where the nearest neighbor was a mile away? She wanted to belong. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life being the stranger—the outsider.

She shook her head and tamped down her doubts. Twenty years from now, she’d look back at these worries and laugh. Pushing away from the railing, she turned and made one step before a scream rent the night.

Chapter 4

Summer 1890, the Krause homestead

J
oseph Krause lay in bed and looked up at the ceiling of the small cabin. It was the first house his father had built on the property, and he’d moved into it a little over a year ago. He still took all his meals in the big house, and his stepmother was responsible for keeping the cabin neat and tidy. He scoffed at that thought. She barely kept the house passable, let alone the cabin.

He shifted restlessly onto his side, then picked up the small clock sitting on the crate that he used as a nightstand.

Moonlight streaming through the open window illuminated the clock’s face while the hour hand slowly clicked toward midnight. In a few minutes it would be a new day—the beginning of a new life.

Rolling to his other side, he watched a cobweb that spanned the open window drift back and forth. Sleep pulled at him, but the restlessness he felt inside wouldn’t let it take him under. He threw off the light sheet, jumped out of bed, and began to pace the tiny room.

If the careful plans he and Pa had made worked out, he’d get out of this damn cabin and back to the big house where he belonged. Once Hannah was out of the way and Pa had won the seat on the county board of supervisors, Pa would have to surrender his tightfisted control over the farm and let him make some of the decisions. He could finally step out of the shadow of his father. He’d be treated like a partner, not the hired man.

Joseph jerked to a stop. With the way his life was going to change, he could even start courting a woman. That pretty little redhead he’d spotted sitting with the Turners at church last Sunday would be a good choice. He’d asked a few questions—she was a niece of Mrs. Turner’s and there to help her following the birth of the Turners’ fifth brat. She was not only easy on the eyes, but well connected. Her daddy was a big farmer over by Montgomery. He rubbed his hands together at the thought. Sure, she probably had plenty of flames, but a sport like him could cut them out. He had all summer to spark her.

He pulled his hand through his hair and resumed his pacing. With Hannah gone, there’d be a scandal, but they could ride it out. Everyone knew what kind of woman she was—always causing trouble, shooting her mouth off instead of staying silent like a dutiful wife should. The blame would be on her, not him and Pa. Willie might be a problem, but Pa would whip him into shape just like he’d done with him when he was a boy. No more of this namby-pamby stuff, clinging to his ma’s skirts.
They’d
turn him into a man.

Joseph strode over to the window and looked to the eastern horizon, willing the first rays of sunlight to chase away the moon. He wanted tomorrow to be here.

A woman’s scream suddenly echoed through the night.

It couldn’t be . . .

Grabbing his pants, he drew them on quickly and shoved his sockless feet into his work boots. He ran to the house, his shoelaces flopping in the dew-soaked grass. Pushing the door open, he saw Hannah sitting in the rocking chair nearest the stove. Willie stood next to her. Using the door frame to steady himself, he stared at her.

“What happened?”

Both Willie and Hannah’s eyes turned toward him. In the faint light of the kerosene lamp, their faces were blanched. Hannah raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the room she shared with his pa.

Joseph grabbed the lamp off the table and strode into the bedroom. As he held the lamp high, he saw the knife buried deep in his father’s back and sheets soaked with blood. The air seemed to rush from his lungs and rob him of speech. His knees weakened and he started to crumble. He shook himself and took a tentative step toward the bed.

Anger tumbled through him. Taking two quick steps, he approached the bed and, with lips tightened, jerked the knife from his father’s back and rolled him over. His pa’s eyes were wide, as if death had caught him by surprise. Disgusted, Joseph flung the knife across the room and it clattered to the floor.

He whirled from the room and crossed to where Hannah still sat in the rocking chair. Grabbing her upper arms, he pulled her to her feet.

“What happened?” he yelled, giving her a shake.

Instantly, Willie kicked out at him. “Don’t you hurt my ma!”

Brushing the child away, he fixed his gaze on Hannah while she stared at him as if she didn’t recognize him. He gave her another shake. Finally, her eyes focused.

“I—I . . . don’t know.” She gasped.

He let go and began to turn toward Willie, but Hannah snatched his arm.

“He doesn’t know anything. He was asleep.” Dropping to her knees, she knelt in front of her son and brushed his hair off his forehead. “I need you to go back upstairs,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Pa—” Willie’s voice caught. “Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

Joseph’s rage simmered. This wasn’t the time for her to coddle the boy. His pa was dead. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

“What in the hell—”

She stood and cut him off with a wave of her hand. Gently, she pushed Willie toward the stairs. “Do what I told you. I’ll be up in a bit and we’ll talk.”

With a backward glance at his mother, Willie slowly walked to the stairs and did as she had instructed. Once the boy’s bare feet had disappeared, Hannah turned to Joseph.

“Ride over to the Thompsons’ and get help.”

With his hands clenched tightly at his sides, Joseph took a step forward. “Not until you tell me what happened.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she answered, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I was upstairs with Willie when I heard a noise. I came downstairs. The front door was open, and then . . . then I found your pa.”

“You think someone came in and killed him?”

She nodded.

He threw his hands in the air. “Everyone respected Pa,” he exclaimed. “Who would want to see him dead besides—” He stopped suddenly and stared at her. She’d found her husband dead, yet not a tear ran down her face.

“Did you see anything? Hear anyone outside?”

“No. I already told you . . . I heard a noise, but I didn’t see anyone. Whoever did this is long gone.” She gave a weary sigh. “Go to the Thompsons’. Have someone there send for the sheriff.”

Joseph tromped out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Pausing at the edge of the porch, he turned and glimpsed his stepmother through the window, not moving, standing where he’d left her. She reminded him of a pillar of salt, just like Lot’s wife in the Bible.

Bitch—this was all her fault.

Swearing under his breath, he marched down the steps and into the night.

An hour later, when Joseph returned with Martin Thompson and Sheriff Winter, the kitchen was empty.

“In there,” he said with a flick of his head toward the dark bedroom. “I’ll find Hannah.”

Taking two steps at a time, he hurried to the top of the stairs. A faint light shone from beneath the door to Willie’s bedroom. Jaw clenched, he flung open the door.

Hannah, fully dressed now, sat calmly at the head of the bed with Willie curled next to her. In her lap lay an open book. In the background, Willie’s damn music box played. The rage he’d held in tight rein erupted again. The bitch had been reading fairy stories and listening to music while his pa lay dead.

He slammed the lid on the box shut, then rushed toward the bed. He grabbed the book out of her hands and ripped it apart. “Pa told you to get rid of that,” he said, dropping the mangled book and kicking it under the bed. “You’re not to turn that boy into a sissy.”

“It was a birthday present from my sister,” she replied in a flat voice as she drew Willie closer.

Joseph spun on his heel. “Leave the boy. The sheriff’s here,” he said curtly.

Hannah pulled the covers up to her son’s shoulders, stood, then bent and whispered in the child’s ear. Without a word, she followed Joseph from the room and down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, they found Sheriff Winter and Martin sitting at the kitchen table waiting for them. Martin, his face pale, mumbled something about needing air and stood abruptly. Moments later the screen door slammed behind him as he hurried out onto the porch. The sheriff then rose and crossed to Hannah.

“Sorry about your loss, Mrs. Krause,” he said in a gentle voice while guiding her toward the rocking chair. “Can you explain to me the course of events tonight?”

Joseph paced the room impatiently as Hannah related the same story she’d told him earlier. When she’d finished, he halted at the sheriff’s side.

“Well?”

“Well what, Joseph?” Sheriff Winter asked.

“Aren’t you going to do something?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Not much to do until the coroner gets here. Then we’ll look things over, and ask some more questions . . .” He paused. “I do have one more question for you, Mrs. Krause,” he said, crossing to the kitchen table. He picked up the object lying there and held it up.

Dried blood crusted the pointed blade and Joseph shuddered.

“Do you recognize this?” Sheriff Winter asked.

“No,” Hannah replied with a shake of her head. “It’s not mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, my kitchen knives all have wood handles and that one has a carved silver handle.” Rising, she crossed the kitchen to a set of drawers and opened one of them. In a moment, she turned and held up a knife. “This is mine.”

Joseph watched her as she gripped the knife tightly and held it aloft. Light glinted off its sharp blade. How many times had he watched her drive that keen point into the carcass of a chicken and split it down the middle? How much easier would it be to thrust a knife with a similar blade into the back of her sleeping husband?

Chapter 5

Summer 2012, the Krause family farm

K
ate stumbled out of bed the next morning. Her head felt too big for her body. Instinctively her hand drifted toward her stomach. Lack of sleep was not good for the baby. A frown flitted across her face as her fingers rubbed her lower abdomen. In the last century, people believed scaring a pregnant woman could mark her unborn child, and God knows, she’d been afraid last night. Just thinking about that scream made her heart jump. She’d torn up the stairs and awakened her sleeping husband. A rabbit, he’d murmured into her ear as he pulled her into his arms.
Who knew rabbits screamed?
She shook her head and stood, shoving her arms into her robe. Sleep had eluded her long after Joe’s easy breathing filled the room. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind filled with the image of a poor bunny in the grip of a predator. She’d tossed and turned until finally falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.

Tightening the belt on her robe, she squared her shoulders. Buck up, she told herself firmly. This wasn’t the city. There’d be a lot of different sights and sounds, and if she wanted to fit in, she needed to learn how to adapt. She couldn’t go running to her husband every time she was faced with something strange.

Problem resolved, she made her way out of the bedroom and down the hall. At the top of the stairs, she paused. The smell of fried bacon and fresh coffee drifted up the stairwell and her stomach growled in response. At least there was one advantage to her mother-in-law staying with them . . . Breakfast.

As she approached the kitchen, she heard Joe’s chuckle and stopped.

“It was a rabbit, Ma,” he said, his voice filled with humor.

Trudy answered in a low voice, but Kate was too far away to make out her words. She took a few steps and stopped.

“Superstition and old family legends,” Joe said, the humor gone. “And I don’t want you filling Kate’s head with a bunch of nonsense.”

“I tell you, it’s a sign,” Trudy replied, her voice louder.

“Don’t be silly—”

Kate heard the clatter of something hitting the sink.

“Your grandmother heard that scream, and two months later, she received word that your uncle had been shot down over Vietnam.”

A chill tickled the back of Kate’s neck.

“Grandma was a flake. She wound up in the nursing home not knowing which way was up,” he shot back. “And according to Dad, she never mentioned that old tale until
after
Uncle Fred was killed.”

“I don’t care what you say. For over one hundred and forty years, people in this family—”

A chair scraped across the kitchen floor.

“Come on, Ma. Do you really believe some rabbit meeting its fate is a harbinger of doom?”

“My boy . . .” Trudy’s voice took on a tone Kate had not yet heard her use—soft, gentle, and full of love. “I raised you strong, and you’ve always made me proud. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

“Ah, Ma,” Joe replied sheepishly, “I’ll be okay. Don’t fuss over those silly old stories.”

“I can’t help it. Your new wife—”

“Hey,” Joe cut her off, his voice teasing, “haven’t I always told you that you’re my best girl?”

Kate felt a stab of jealousy.

“Yes.”

“Look, Kate’s my wife—and I love her—but you’re my mother.” The teasing tone was gone and he sounded deadly serious. “You think I’m going to forget everything that you did for me growing up?”

“No.”

“You and Kate just try and get along, and everything will be fine. No more talk about that stupid legend, okay?”

Kate strained to hear Trudy’s low reply, but she was too far away.

“I’ve got to get going. When Kate gets up, tell her—”

No, he couldn’t leave before she had the chance to see him. Hurrying into the kitchen, Kate shoved the overheard conversation out of her mind.

“Good morning,” she said brightly and quickly crossed to where her husband stood at the counter. She stood on tiptoes and raised her face for a kiss. When Joe bussed the side of her cheek, her smile slipped.

Kate turned and greeted her mother-in-law.

Trudy’s eyebrows lifted in response and flicked a hand toward the table. Any softness she might have shown during her conversation with Joe had disappeared. “Have a seat. The bacon’s getting cold.”

Joe pulled out the chair for Kate and, once she was settled, looked first at his mother, then at Kate.

“I’m going into town,” he said, draining the last of his coffee. “I’m meeting Tom, then we’re driving over to the Rodman place to see if we can talk some sense into Ed.”

“Humph,” Trudy snorted, “that’ll be the day. He’s known all along that fence line was on our land. He’s not going to change it now.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see about that,” he said, smacking his cup on the counter. “One way or the other, he’s going to move that fence.”

Trudy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful, son,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Ed Rodman’s been stubborn and ornery since the day he was born.”

“Don’t fret, Ma,” he said, removing her hand and squeezing it. “Ed’s not going to pull anything with the sheriff standing there—”

Kate shot out of her chair. “Wait—what’s this about a sheriff?”

“Now see what you did, Ma?” He shook his head. “You’ve upset Kate.” He released his mother’s hand and placed his on Kate’s shoulder, gently guiding her back to her chair. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart. I can handle Ed. Once he sees things my way, it’ll be fine.”

“But—But,” she stammered.

He smiled down at her as he patted her head. “I’ve got to run.” He shot a look at his mother. “Don’t work her too hard, Ma. Remember what I said and that Kate needs time to adjust.”

Trudy crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing.

“See you ladies at dinner.” Without a backward glance, he was out the door and gone. A moment later, Kate heard the rumble of a pickup pull down the drive.

Silence hung in the air as Kate stared down at the now-congealed eggs on her plate.

Trudy finally spoke. “You need to eat,” she said, pointing at the eggs.

Kate picked up her fork and moved the soggy mess around on her plate. This wasn’t how she pictured the first few days of her marriage: rabbits screaming in the night, a disapproving mother-in-law, and a vanishing husband. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of her eyes. Quickly, she brushed them away and forced herself to take a bite of the cold eggs. Their mushiness against her tongue made her stomach roll. She swallowed and pushed her plate away.

“Thanks, Trudy, but I’m really not hungry. Maybe later I’ll eat a piece of toast.”

Trudy eyed her belly. “Morning sickness, huh?”

Grateful for the excuse, Kate nodded. She stood and, after picking up her plate, crossed to the garbage can and scraped the eggs into it. Turning, she smiled. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”

Her mother-in-law waved her away. “I’ll do them. Why don’t you go back to bed? I heard you up roaming around last night.”

Kate’s lips quirked into a grin. Roaming was not the way to describe her movements last night. After hearing the rabbit scream, thundering would be more descriptive.

Placing her plate in the sink, Kate turned toward Trudy. “I’m sorry I made so much noise, but the scream that I heard frightened me. Did I wake you?”

Trudy’s gaze wandered around the kitchen. “No. I was awake. This house doesn’t always promote restful sleep.”

Kate drew back at the cryptic remark. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She busied herself wiping off the counters and moving dishes over to the sink. “It’s an old house. Old houses creak and it can disturb a body, if you let it.” She shook the dishrag out over the sink. “I’d just ignore any night sounds, if I were you. It doesn’t pay to go wandering around in the dark.” She began stacking the dishes, but Kate interrupted her.

“Please, let me help you.”

“I think it would be better if you rested,” Trudy replied, keeping her back toward Kate.

“No, honestly . . . I want to help. I don’t want to spend the day in our bedroom waiting for Joe to come home. I’d be bored out of my mind.”

Trudy turned, her eyes narrowing. “You really want to help?”

Joe’s remark about them getting along flashed through her mind.
She
wasn’t going to be the one responsible for any rift.

“Yes, I’m a part of this family now. I want to do my share.”

Later that night in bed, Kate wished she had taken Trudy’s advice. Her ankles were swollen and her body ached in ways she’d never felt before. They’d cooked two big meals and, after each one, cleaned the kitchen until it gleamed. They also weeded the garden; swept and dusted the downstairs; and washed, folded, and ironed two large loads of laundry. Thinking of the latter, Kate grimaced. The woman ironed pillowcases, of all things. Didn’t she understand the meaning of permanent press? At supper, she’d caught the gleam in Trudy’s eye when she’d asked her if she’d ever “put up” sweet corn. That was Trudy’s plan for her tomorrow, and she couldn’t wait to see what it entailed. Kate’s vision of spending lazy summer days, swinging in a hammock, seemed foolish. There was too much work to be done.

But what Kate regretted most about the last twenty-four hours was the lack of time she’d spent with her new husband. Not counting the time they’d spent sleeping, they’d been together less than three hours, and those hours had included his mother. The only time they’d been alone was in the privacy of their bedroom—and when he’d wanted to make love, she hadn’t had the energy.

A bitter tear slipped down the side of her face. She wanted to be a good wife and make Joe happy, but the truth was she didn’t know how. If today was any indication, years of nothing but endless work stretched before her.

She dashed the tear away. No, that was unacceptable. She loved her husband and she loved her unborn child. She would create a life in this place and she wouldn’t allow it to be measured by the amount of work she accomplished each day. She’d find joy and she’d find happiness.

If Trudy thought to break her and make her feel that she wasn’t a fit wife for Joe, Kate would prove her wrong. She’d work harder, longer, faster until Trudy was forced to accept her. She’d had to deal with her grandmother for years, and if now she had to handle her mother-in-law, then so be it.

She would not fail.