The Widows of Braxton County (8 page)

Chapter 11

Early fall 2012, Dutton

K
ate’s breath hitched and the man smiled.

“It’s the eyes, right? Strange twist of the old DNA, isn’t it,” he said as he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Will, and you must be Kate.”

At a loss for words, she shook his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you . . . unexpected, but nice.”

Where was the animosity Will’s side of the family supposedly felt? It wasn’t apparent in the smiling man who stood in front of her.

“Ahh . . . nice to meet you, too.”

His eyes twinkled. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I hope it was good,” she replied.

Will laughed. “Around here one never knows, do they? But it was. Doris Hill had nothing but kind words to say about you.” His face sobered. “I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”

Kate cocked her head and studied him. No “it was meant to be,” but a simple acknowledgment of her grief. She instantly liked him in spite of the feud with her husband.

“Is there something in particular you need?” He leaned in, and in a conspiratorial voice, whispered, “If you do buy something, get rid of the sack before you get home. Joe wouldn’t let anything with ‘Krause Hardware’ on it in the house.”

Kate smirked. “I
have
been told not to shop here.”

“I’m sure you have,” he said and gave a low chuckle. “You must be a bit of a rebel.”

She drew back. “Who me?” Kate thought of the many ways that she’d tried to please both Joe and his mother. “No . . . no, not at all.” She shifted nervously. “Maybe I should go.”

Will held up a hand. “No, please let me show you the store. I think this is the second time in our history that one of the ‘other Krauses’ has had the gumption to come inside. This is a momentous occasion, let’s celebrate it with a cup of coffee,” he finished with a grin.

“Okay,” she said with a shrug as she followed Will down one of the aisles. “Exactly how are you and Joe related?”

Will glanced over his shoulder. “Have you heard about old Jacob yet?”

“The one found murdered?”

“That would be the one.” He winked. “And,” he said, deepening his voice, “he who is the herald of misfortune and who will not rest until his killer’s found.”

“Got ya,” she said and stole a look out of the corner of her eye. “Do you believe in that family curse?”

“No. Jacob was my great-great-grandfather, too, and I can’t say my family has suffered an unusual amount of trouble . . .” He paused. “No offense intended, but I think some of the Krauses invented that story to explain their bad luck when it was actually their greed backfiring on them.”

Suddenly Kate felt disloyal standing here with Joe’s cousin. “You know . . . I think I’ll pass on that coffee. I’d—”

“Wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made that remark about greed.” He motioned for them to continue to the back of the store. “Let me explain how we’re related. Joe and I share Jacob as an ancestor, but Joe is descended from Joseph, Jacob’s oldest son, and I’m a descendant of Willie, the second son and the one Jacob had with his second wife, Hannah.”

“So both you and Joe are named after your great-grandfathers?”

“Yeah. Weird isn’t it?”

“Are you, also, going to explain how Joe’s great-grandfather cheated yours out of his inheritance, Will?”

Kate pivoted to see Rose Clement standing at the end of the aisle.

“I’d better go.” She looked down at the floor. “This was a bad idea.”

“Hold on.” His attention turned to Rose. “You’re bringing up ancient history, Rose. What happened back then doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” she replied, joining them. “The past always matters, especially when you get to be my age.” She focused on Kate. “If there’s a family curse, it’s because of Joseph. He lied, cheated, and spoiled several lives, including that of his little brother.”

“No,” Will objected. “He didn’t ruin Willie’s. According to my family, Willie had a long and happy life.”

Rose eyed him skeptically. “Maybe Willie did overcome the misfortune of his early years, but it was no thanks to his brother.”

“Rose . . . stop.” He glanced at Kate, then at Rose. “You’re talking about Kate’s new family.”

“Right.” She pointed at Kate. “And her husband is just as sneaky as the first Joseph.”

Will stepped in front of Kate. “You’ve gone too far, Rose.”

“So has her husband.” She peeked around Will at Kate. “Haven’t you heard Joe Krause is leasing the land next to mine for a hog confinement?”

“I’ve heard rumors, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do it,” Will replied.

“Are the rumors true?” she asked Kate.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, not meeting Rose’s stare as she edged away. Finally looking up, she found Rose’s eyes drilling into hers.

“Your mother-in-law has made some enemies over the years, but it’s nothing compared to how this town is going to react if your husband proceeds with his plan.”

After delivering her parting shot, Rose marched out of the store, leaving Kate and Will standing there in silence.

Will was the first to break it. “I’m sorry, Kate,” he said, his face red. “Rose really is a nice lady, but if what she says is true, it’s going to hurt her financially.”

“How?”

“Like most people around here, her assets are tied up in her farm and she’s worked hard managing it ever since her husband died.” He frowned. “If a hog confinement is built near her place, her property values will drop. She’d have a hard time finding a buyer if she ever decided to sell. Hog lots stink and the flies are terrible. Who’d want to live under those conditions?”

“Was she right about the town’s reaction?” Kate asked softly, sympathizing with Rose’s predicament.

Will shrugged and didn’t answer.

Kate drove home, still boggled over the situation between Rose and her husband. Her dream of belonging was in danger of crashing. She hadn’t lived in Braxton County long, but it was long enough to appreciate how far people’s memories stretched. My God, they were still gossiping about something that had happened over a hundred years ago. Joe’s actions would stigmatize not only her, Trudy, and Joe, but also her future children. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to make him see reason.

As she pulled into the driveway, she noticed a strange pickup sitting back by the machine shed. Upon exiting the car, she heard voices raised in anger. Following the voices, she rounded the corner of the house to see her husband squaring off with a stranger dressed in bib overalls and wearing a green cap.

“I’ve tried to be reasonable, Ed, but if you won’t move that fence line, then I’ll have to take legal action.”

The other man, Ed, snorted. “From what I hear, you ain’t got the money for no lawyers.”

Joe answered him with a smirk. “If you don’t take care of it, I will. I’ll hire a bulldozer to push that son of a bitching fence back over the property line.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I’ll send you the bill.”

Ed’s face turned red and he took a step forward. “That’ll cost me thousands,” he screamed. “Damn it—it’s two fuckin’ feet over the line!”

Joe turned with a shrug and began to walk away. “Suit yourself. Either you move it and save yourself some money, or I’m calling in a dozer.”

“Everyone in town knows what you’re doing,” Ed yelled after him. “And they’re all sick of you and your family trying to ride roughshod over this community.” He stopped and spit on the ground. “You’re no better than your daddy or old Jacob.”

Joe lurched around to face him. “Get the hell off my land!”

Ed wheeled toward where Kate stood and stomped right by her without looking her way. A minute later his pickup peeled out of the driveway.

No . . . no, she couldn’t let this happen. She had to help Joe find a way out of this mess without losing respect.

“Joe,” she said after following him into the office.

“Not now, Kate,” he said in a rough voice.

“We need to talk,” she persisted.

She jumped at the sudden sound of his hand slamming the desk.

“I said not now,” he growled between clenched teeth.

Shoving her fear to the side, she cautiously went up to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Joe,” she said gently, “calm down.”

He glared at her and she dropped her hand.

“You can’t do this. Think of the repercussions. There has to be another solution. What’s two—”

“It’s two feet of
my
land.” A vein on the side of his neck began to throb. “I can do whatever I want.”

“I have to live here, too, Joe. And I want to raise my children here. Do you want everyone in this community to hate us?”

“What I want,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “is a wife who knows her place and quits meddling in things that don’t concern her.”

Kate’s anger chased away her fear. “Meddling? That’s what you call it?” she fumed. “It’s nice to know that giving you all of my money and turning myself into your mother’s personal slave—”

Before she could react, Joe’s hand lashed out and struck the side of her face. Shocked, Kate backed away, nursing her cheek.

His anger deflated and he held out his open palm. “Oh God, Kate . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean—”

Kate didn’t wait to hear the rest. She twisted away from him and ran.

Chapter 12

Summer 1890, the Krause homestead

H
annah sat quietly in the corner of her kitchen, rocking slowly back and forth. The body of her husband lay in the bedroom while two doctors examined his mortal remains. Occasionally, soft voices would drift into the kitchen from behind the closed door—too faint for Hannah to hear their words.

The undertaker, with his cooling board, was on his way. Once the doctors were finished and the inquest had been held later this afternoon, he’d begin preparing Jacob for his burial. Some of the men had already rearranged the furniture in the parlor. Jacob’s coffin would remain in that room until the day of the funeral, then Jacob would take his last journey and join his first wife in the family’s burial plot.

She looked toward the dining room. Sheriff Winter, Charles Walker, the county attorney, and Dr. Arthur Morgan, the county coroner, sat gathered around the table. Their faces were somber, and a couple of times, Hannah had caught them watching her.

From out of the window, she could see the rest of the neighborhood men, who’d been drifting in all morning, gathered over by the barn. Children, Willie included, played marbles nearby. She was thankful for that. At least Willie was engaged with his friends and not in the house with his dead father.

The womenfolk from the surrounding farms had taken over her kitchen and flitted back and forth, offering the men coffee and sandwiches. How anyone could eat with a body in the next room was beyond her. Thinking about it made the bile rise in her throat.

Her mouth twisted in a frown. Some of these women, like Fannie Thompson, Martin’s wife, were her friends. But not Grace Rosenthal and Bessie Schwab—they’d come to satisfy their curiosity. She watched in disgust as Bessie ran her finger along Hannah’s plate shelf. Holding her dusty hand out to Grace, Hannah saw her eyebrows lift in disapproval.

She turned her head back toward the window. She didn’t care. They’d always thought she was a shoddy housekeeper and now they had proof.

Her attention wandered to the apple orchard beyond the barn. Since she was now a widow and could hold property, the farm would probably come to her. Joseph wouldn’t like that. He’d want her gone, but she had to think of Willie’s future. She gave a soft snort. How ironic. This place had never been anything other than a symbol of Jacob’s success, and he’d always delighted in holding it over their less-than-successful neighbors. To her, it was only a roof over her head and a place to raise her son. The house and the farm had meant nothing—and now the homestead might belong to her.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Fannie’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hannah,” she said quietly, “Reverend Green is in the parlor.”

Hannah scowled. After the first time Jacob had raised his hand to her, she’d gone to the reverend for help. Instead, he’d quoted platitudes and lectured her on her wifely duty of providing comfort to her husband. When he moved on to chiding her about airing her family problems to outsiders, she’d left disheartened and never went back.

Her stomach tightened in panic, and her eyes sought an escape.

Fannie squeezed her shoulder. “You have to see him.”

“No, I don’t.” She shot out of the chair as quiet fell over the kitchen.

“Hush,” Fannie hissed, her eyes darting over her shoulder to where Grace and Bessie stood listening. She stepped in front of Hannah, blocking the two women’s view. “Do you want them telling the neighborhood that you’re hysterical?”

Hannah took a deep breath. “No, but I’m not talking to Reverend Green.” Her gaze traveled the room. “I can’t stand this, Fannie . . . I’ve got to be by myself. Tell Reverend Green that I’m outside praying for Jacob’s soul.”

With her head down, Hannah left the kitchen and hurried outside. She didn’t stop until she reached the apple orchard.

A soft, hot breeze whispered through the trees, and free of the oppressive house, Hannah closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of ripening apples. She had no intention of praying for Jacob. She didn’t care if the weight of Jacob’s sins bound him to this earth forever. He’d earned it.

A delicious sense of freedom bubbled inside of her. She never had to deal with Jacob’s anger again. Tossing her head back, she spread her arms and spun in a circle, just like she’d done as a child.

A voice stopped her midspin.

“I want to talk to you,” Joseph said from the edge of the orchard.

Hannah dropped her arms and folded them primly at her waist. “If it’s about the funeral, we’ll talk after the inquest.”

“It’s about the farm,” he replied, walking toward her.

“Now’s not the time.”

“Yes, it is.” His lips tightened with determination.

“It’s not seemly,” she insisted.

“Neither is spinning around like a kid.” He grabbed her arm and began to pull her deeper into the orchard.

She jerked away and skidded to a stop. “You will
not
touch me.”

Joseph held up his hands and stepped back. He smirked. “Pa had a will—” He paused dramatically. “It names me as Willie’s guardian.”

She gripped her stomach while her breath left her in a hiss. “No.”

Joseph’s smirk became a smile. “Yes. Pa didn’t think you were a good influence. He wanted Willie to grow to be a man.”

“A man,” Hannah said, dropping her arms to her sides, “who sees no harm in using his fists to settle disagreements?” She straightened and lifted her chin. “I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop me. Children belong to their fathers, not their mothers.”

“His father’s dead, so Willie belongs to me.”

Joseph gave a nasty laugh. “After reading Pa’s will, a court might not agree, especially after they hear about your ‘unnatural attachment’ to your son.”

“You’re mad,” she exclaimed. “There’s nothing ‘unnatural’ about a mother caring for her son.”

“That’s not what the neighbors think.”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“You will when they testify against you in court.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Remember the scene you caused at the school board meeting after Miss Rosenthal had punished Willie at school? You wanted the woman fired.”

“His punishment was too severe,” she said indignantly. “He was whispering and she had the gall to whack him on the side of his head with a book.”

“I don’t think that’s the way Miss Rosenthal would tell it on the witness stand.” Joseph shook his head slowly. “You’ve always been a troublemaker, Hannah. Refusing to be a proper wife, shooting your mouth off about things that don’t concern you.” He snickered. “You have enemies, and they’ll all stand against you in court.”

“We’ll see about that. My brother-in-law is an important man, and he’ll stop you from taking Willie.”

Joseph sobered. “Now, Hannah, I never said I wanted Willie.” He stroked his chin. “I want my own family and he would be in the way—”

“Get to the point, Joseph.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he leaned against an apple tree and studied Hannah. “I might be willing to let you have Willie if you let me have the farm.”

“Impossible. Willie deserves his share of this land,” she said in a sweeping motion. “It’s his birthright, too.”

Joseph exploded. “His birthright? What has that kid ever done around here?” He shoved away from the tree. “He’s been mollycoddled since the day he was born and has never done a lick of work.”

“He’s a boy,” Hannah said quietly.

“I was a boy once, too, and nobody ever stopped Pa working me half to death,” he answered, his voice full of bitterness.

“I tried, Joseph—when I first married your pa—and I got the worst beating of my life . . .” Her voice trailed away as she pressed her fingers to her forehead.

“But then Willie came along and he was more important.” He puffed out his chest. “I probably should thank you for not interfering—Pa was hard, but it made me strong.”

Sadness for the little boy who’d got lost in his father’s violence tugged at her.

“Oh, Joseph, I know it was hard losing your mother and—”

He shook a finger in her face. “Don’t you speak of my mother,” he said in a threatening voice. “She was a
lady
.”

“I’m sure she was,” Hannah said, trying to calm his anger, “I only meant that I’m sorry—”

“I don’t need your pity,” he yelled. A malicious look stole over his face. “You’re the one to be pitied. Pa was making plans to divorce you—”

“What?”

“That’s right.” He chuckled. “He didn’t want you and your ways spoiling his chances in the election. He was taking you back to your mother’s house and dumping you like a bucket of slop—” Stopping, he watched Hannah’s reaction. “He was going to tell everyone you’d run off.”

His words hit Hannah like one of Jacob’s blows.

“You know what that means, don’t you?” He swaggered toward her. “You never would’ve seen your precious son again.”

The abuse hadn’t been enough for Jacob. He’d planned on stealing her only reason for living. Cold rage enveloped her and she faced Joseph with a freezing glare.

“Then I’m glad he’s dead.”