The Widows of Braxton County (26 page)

Chapter 41

Fall 2012, the Clement family farm

A
s Rose watched Kate pull out of the driveway, her heart ached for her young friend. She wanted to help her, but old loyalties superseded new friendships. She picked up her cell phone and dialed Will’s number.

He answered on the second ring.

“Kate was here and she found a book in the old cabin,” she said without preamble.

“Okay—”

She cut him off. “A book containing essays. One is titled ‘The Sins of the Father.’ ”

“Oh.” Will was silent for a moment. “Did you tell her?”

“No. There’s no time limit on promises, Will.” She paused. “I did tell her about the verdict and Hannah’s incarceration.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not going to give up, is she?”

“No. She doesn’t want to face what might come about over the next few days, and she’s using this quest of hers as a distraction.” Rose began to pace back and forth in front of the window. “She’s truly convinced that if she learns the truth about Jacob and Hannah, it will help her out of her situation.”

“What can we do?”

“You’ve tried to get her to drop it?”

“Yes, and it didn’t work. Can you think of anything else she might find?”

“How would I know?” Rose replied in a frustrated voice. “Who would’ve suspected that she’d find that old newspaper article or that book? It’s been out of print for decades.”

“How do you suppose a Krause wound up with a copy?”

“I imagine it was sent to them. And from the looks of it, they didn’t appreciate the gift—the cover was obliterated and the essay was ripped out.”

Will snickered.

“It’s not funny,” she declared. “Not if you want to protect your secrets. I’d hate to see reputations that have stood for a long time destroyed.”

“I wonder which one of the mighty Krauses received the book? Joseph or his son?”

“Joseph, I would think. No one else would get the connection.”

“Hmm,” his voice grew thoughtful. “Maybe I should pay Kate a visit tomorrow. Offer to help her look for clues.”

“Then lead her in a different direction?”

“It’s worth a try.”

Chapter 42

Fall 2012, the Krause family farm

K
ate was upset by her conversation with Rose. She could try pumping Trudy for information, but she’d have to get past all of her mutterings about curses and ghosts.

She found her sitting on the back porch, watching the sun climb higher in the morning sky.

“I’m sorry if Will upset you yesterday,” she said.

A steely look from Trudy was her only response. She tried another topic.

“I found an old trunk out in the cabin.”

“That would be the one that belonged to Joseph’s mother, Suzanne,” she replied, rocking back and forth. “She was a Southerner.”

“No one ever mentions her. She must’ve died young.”

“She did.”

“How?”

“She fell down the cellar steps and broke her neck.”

Kate looked out over the farm. A cool morning breeze stirred the autumn leaves, and in the distance, she heard birds singing. She shivered. One would never know that three tragic deaths had occurred in such a peaceful setting.

“How old was Joseph when his mother died?”

“About eight or nine, I guess,” she answered with a shrug.

“Then Jacob married Hannah?”

Trudy’s lip curled. “He’d have been better leaving that one alone.”

“I know she was confined to a mental institution,” Kate said quietly.

“They should’ve hanged her.” Trudy rocked a little faster.

If Kate wanted to avoid one of her tirades, she needed to proceed carefully.

“So the family’s always believed she was guilty?”

Trudy faced her with eyes blazing. “Of course she was guilty. Her and that boy were the only ones in the house that night.”

“Not Joseph?”

“No, he didn’t get along with Hannah, so he stayed in the old cabin.”

“What about Willie? Did Joseph get along with Willie?”

“That boy was a pampered brat. He didn’t deserve this place.”

“He signed it over to his brother?”

“No. Hannah did.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Just curious. So Hannah signed it over to Joseph before the trial?”

“Yes, and contrary to what that Will Krause’s family has always claimed, it was legal.” She frowned. “Always made me sick listening to people rattle on about ‘the good doctor’ and how we cheated him.”

“You mean Willie?”

“His mother was a crazy murderer.” She gave Kate a sly look. “I’m not too sure that he wasn’t just like her. Bet you’ve never heard anything about him attending Charles Walker’s death bed?”

“Who’s Charles Walker?”

“Humph, that’s what I thought. No one ever talks about that.” She settled back in the chair. “Charles Walker was the county attorney who charged Hannah. I always thought it was kind of funny that Willie was present for the death of the man who locked up his ma.”

“You think he killed him?” Kate asked in a shocked voice.

“Not saying he did, but that family’s not as lily white as they’d like everyone to think.” She smiled with satisfaction. “Joe knew, and one of these days, he was going to let it out.” She turned her attention to Kate. “You’re asking a lot of questions about the past when you’ve got worries of your own right now. They think you killed my son.”

The directness of her words shocked Kate.

“You know I wasn’t here until after you drove Joe to the hospital.” She leaned forward. “What happened that day?”

“I already told the sheriff,” she answered in a bitter voice.

“Did Joe say anything? Did he tell you who’d hurt him?”

Trudy rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand. “I don’t remember—it all happened so fast—Joe’s shirt turning red with blood—” She stopped, her face stricken. “Why are you trying to make me remember? I tried to save him. I didn’t want my son to die.”

Kate reached out to her. “Trudy—”

She pushed herself to her feet and glared down at Kate. “You—you brought this on us. If you never came here, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Doing an about-face, Trudy scurried into the house. The door slammed, and a moment later, Kate heard the music box begin to play.

Questioning Trudy hadn’t brought Kate any closer to the truth. She never got the chance to ask her about the book she’d found in the cabin. Rose and Will weren’t going to tell her anything. The only place left was to check at the library. They might recognize the essays.

As Kate walked into the library, she felt eyes watching her, but she ignored them. However, it was hard to disregard the librarian’s look of disapproval when she approached the counter.

“May I help you?” the librarian asked in a grim voice.

“I found this book,” Kate replied, placing it on the counter, “and I wondered if you might know the title and the author. As you can see it’s in bad shape.”

With a shake of her head, the woman opened it and flipped through the pages. “No, sorry,” she said. “This isn’t familiar.”

“Do you have any suggestions as to how I might discover the title and the author?”

The librarian’s gaze slid to her left. “Well,” she said with reluctance as she studied the chapter titles. “You could try an Internet search . . . using twentieth-century authors and women’s issues.”

Kate received the distinct impression that the woman would prefer it be done somewhere other than
her
library.

The woman handed her the book and Kate gave her a broad smile. “Thanks,” she said brightly, “I’ll use that computer over there.”

Once seated at the computer, she typed in the librarian’s suggestions, and thirty minutes later had decided it was hopeless.

Stretching her arms overhead, she squinted at the screen. At first, she’d wondered if Essie, Rose’s grandmother, was the author, so she followed several links about her, but found nothing about any essays. The name of Johan Bennett had popped up in conjunction with Essie, which didn’t surprise her. Rose had mentioned that Johan had been Essie’s mentor.

She typed in Johan’s name and followed those links. Not much was out there even though he’d been a prolific writer and staunch supporter of the suffragette movement. His opinions had caused a quite a stir. One article had credited his work as being the driving force behind changes in the child-labor laws.

But as for the man himself, Kate found a reference calling him “reclusive,” and that was it. No formal biography or photographs—and nothing that would indicate a connection to Iowa, much less the Krauses.

Next she tried “Iowa mental institutions in 1890.” Forcing herself to skim through those, she was appalled at the conditions in which the patients lived. Her horror grew as she uncovered articles mentioning the use of lobotomies for the treatment of the mentally ill.

While she was reading one of the articles, a familiar name popped out at her, “Dr. William Krause.” Further searching led to a biography of Dr. Krause.

He wasn’t the simple country doctor Kate had assumed. He had been active as a mental-health advocate and had fought until his death in 1970 for the abolishment of lobotomies.

Kate leaned in. His work wasn’t surprising, considering the fate of his mother. Had Hannah still been living then? Had, in the course of his work, he seen his mother?

“Hey,” a voice whispered in her ear, startling her.

She turned to find Will standing behind her.

Leaning in, he squinted at the screen. “I see you’re reading about Willie.”

Kate closed the screen and looked up at him. “How did you know I was here?”

He pulled a chair over and sat. “I saw your Jeep parked out front.” He paused. “Why were you looking up my great-grandfather?”

“I—well.” Kate squirmed in her chair. “It wasn’t my intent. Rose told me about Hannah.”

“And you discovered Willie’s name by looking up mental institutions?”

“Yeah. I thought he was a small-town doctor. You never mentioned his work for the mentally ill.”

Will shrugged. “It’s no big secret. I don’t understand why you feel the need to dig up all this old history.”

“Does it bother you?” she asked, remembering what Trudy had said about his family possessing secrets.

“I think you should be concentrating on building your defense, so that you’re ready in case it comes to that.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“The truth? I don’t appreciate it,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “What happened to Hannah was a miscarriage of justice, and I think it only fair that the poor woman should be allowed to rest in peace.”

She tried another tack. “What about Joseph? How do you think he played into what happened to her? Did he testify against her?”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

Kate shook her head.

“We believe he set her up.”

“How?”

“He might have tampered with the evidence. Maybe he orchestrated the deal between the county attorney and Hannah’s attorney. It’s all supposition and we’ll never know for sure.”

“About the county attorney—Trudy said Willie was the attending physician at his death.”

Will’s face grew stony. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing,” she said, looking back at the computer screen. “I just thought it was a funny coincidence—to be present at the death of the man who railroaded his mother.”

“There’s nothing coincidental about it,” he said in a low voice. “Willie was the only doctor in this area.”

“He was an advocate for mental health. Why? If he was uncomfortable about his past and wanted to hide it?”

“There’s a difference between hiding your past and talking about it.” Will leaned in. “He never tried to hide anything. For God’s sake—he came back here to practice medicine, but he did avoid reliving the painful memory of what happened to Hannah. Nothing sinister in that.”

“I didn’t say that there was,” she replied defensively. “How did he feel about losing the farm to Joseph?”

“He didn’t care. He was never cut out to be a farmer.”

“Did he resent his brother?”

“My family is none of your business, Kate,” he declared in an angry voice. “And I don’t appreciate some of your insinuations about my great-grandfather. He was a fine man and his memory is well-respected in this community.”

Kate shrank away from him.

“The same can’t be said for Joe’s side of the family. No one ever respected them half as much as they did Willie.”

“Is that why you’re afraid? You think I’ll uncover something that will hurt Willie’s reputation?”

Will stood and, placing a hand on the back of her chair, leaned toward her until his face was close to hers. “I thought we were friends,” he whispered, his breath brushing her ear, “but I’m warning you—you have nothing to gain by nosing around in my family’s past.”