The Widows of Braxton County Read online

  Kate stepped around him, walking to one of the long windows and looking out at the flat fields beyond the front of the house.

  Did she? Did she accept his mother? She gave a soft snort. After the lukewarm greeting she’d received, she wasn’t sure that Joe’s mother was ready to accept her. Bowing her head, she rubbed her forehead. She’d spent most of her life placating her grandmother. Would she have to do the same for Joe’s mother? If she were honest with herself, Joe was right. She had wanted to get away from her grandmother. She wanted her own life. A life that included a husband, a home, and children.

  She turned and let her gaze travel the bedroom. She took in the old striped wallpaper, the bed with its carved walnut headboard and chenille bedspread, the washstand that still held an antique pitcher and bowl. Generations of Krauses had been born in this house, and it would be a good place to raise a family. Every marriage had a few bumps . . . maybe not this soon into it . . . but she could either let Joe’s lack of honesty spoil her dream or be a good wife and accept his motives.

  Her attention settled on her husband, still standing by the dresser while he waited for her to say something. No longer flushed, he looked uncertain, and Kate felt her future hanging in the balance. She made her choice.

  Crossing her arms, she studied him. “Your mother is taking the apartment as soon as it’s finished?”

  Joe’s face brightened. “Yes. I can’t guarantee when that will happen—”

  “But it will happen, right?” she asked, cutting him off.

  He took a step toward her. “Right. And if you’ll just give me time, I promise it will all work out in the end.”

  Kate felt the tension ease out of her body and she leaned back against the edge of the window. “I’m sorry if I was acting like a child. I just thought it would be you and—”

  He quickly moved to where she stood by the window and took her in his arms. “I know, baby, I know,” he murmured softly in her ear. “I’m sorry, too. I was wrong. I should’ve explained about Ma, but if you’ll be patient, I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

  She rested her forehead against his chin. “I do love you, and I want our marriage to be a good one.”

  He stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “It will, baby.”

  Kate lowered her gaze. “The way I acted—” She hesitated. “I don’t think I made a very good impression on your mother.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, lifting her chin. “Ma can be kind of prickly at times, but once she sees what a sweet and gentle woman you are, she’ll love you as much as I do.” He caressed the side of her face, letting his finger trail down her cheek, stopping at the sensitive spot below her ear. “What do you say we get you settled in, Mrs. Krause? Then”—his eyes strayed to the double bed—“I’ll welcome you properly to your new home.”

  Ignoring the fluttering heat growing inside of her, Kate leaned away from his touch. “But your mother. She’s right downstairs.” Kate eyed the open old-fashioned heating grate in the floor. “She might hear—”

  “Didn’t I tell you? . . .” He winked and started to edge toward the bed, pulling her with him. “She’s hard of hearing.”

  Kate lay in bed, content to listen to her husband’s even breathing. Stretching her arms over her head, she smiled up at the ceiling. Everything was going to work out. They’d safely navigated the first crisis in their marriage. She curled on her side and stroked her wedding band.

  The rest of the day had been perfect. Trudy had made herself scarce while Joe had given Kate a tour of the farm. She’d seen hogs, chickens, cattle, and a few stray barn cats. Joe hadn’t seemed fond of the latter and had dismissed her idea of catching one and taming it. She grinned. Well, she’d see about that. She’d never been allowed pets as a child and she’d always wanted a kitten. Surely, he wouldn’t mind just one?

  On the way to the sprawling machine shed, they’d passed by a massive pristine vegetable garden, the rows straight as soldiers marching in formation. She’d eyed the garden with speculation. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if she added a few rows of her favorite herbs.

  Joe had pointed out green beans, peppers, tomatoes, and her mouth had watered at the thought of a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich made with her own sun-ripened tomatoes. He informed her that they’d also have homegrown sweet corn, and praised its quality over what had been available to her in the city grocery stores.

  He’d shown her an office that any CEO would be proud to call his own. It was located in an enclosed corner of a machine shed used for housing tractors and farm equipment so large that they made the snowmobiles and four-wheelers sitting next to them look like Tinkertoys.

  They’d walked by an old cabin, which was the first home Jacob had built on the homestead. She longed to explore it, but Joe dismissed the idea. It was preserved as part of the Krause heritage, but never used. The only residents now were mice and a few pigeons.

  On their way back to the house, Kate had spotted two trees in the backyard growing close enough together that she could hang a hammock between them. An image of lazy summer days spent lounging in the shade flitted across her mind as they crossed under the trees’ spreading branches—and that image held two towheaded children with Joe’s green eyes nestled close to her as she read to them from Dr. Seuss.

  Her hand strayed to her lower belly. Kate’s stomach fluttered with excitement, but it quickly dampened. Trudy had to be settled in town before the baby came. As it was, the one-bathroom house was going to be crowded enough for three adults without throwing a baby into the mix.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t start planning her baby’s nursery now. Her gaze traveled to the door and the hallway beyond. The back bedroom would be perfect. She’d love to get out of bed and go look over that room now.

  Joe stirred in his sleep and rolled away from her. Why not, she thought with a quick glance at his back. All day he’d stressed that this was her home, and if Trudy’s hearing was as poor as Joe claimed, she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

  Kate slid to the side of the bed and eased her feet onto the floor. Quickly, she stood and crept to the foot of the bed to grab her robe just in case Trudy did catch her wandering the house. It wouldn’t do for Joe’s mother to get a glimpse of her in the semi-sheer nightgown purchased for the honeymoon that never happened.

  She shoved her arms into the sleeves and tiptoed from the room. The hallway was pitch-black.

  This is silly, she thought with a shake of her head and turned to go back to bed, but stopped.

  A soft sigh came from the back bedroom at the end of the hallway. She cocked her head and listened. The noise sounded like a whisper. Was Trudy upstairs carrying on some kind of conversation with long-gone Krauses? Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother’s health, but more than once she’d caught her grandmother muttering to shadows in the middle of the night. Maybe Trudy had the same habit?

  Whispers again reached her ears. With one hand against the wall to guide her, Kate glided across the hallway, mindful of the creaking boards. When she reached the back bedroom, she turned the knob carefully and slowly swung the door open.

  Nothing. The only shapes Kate could make out in the darkness were the numerous boxes that she’d noticed earlier in the day. Closing the door with a faint click, she began to retrace her steps back to her bedroom. She’d reached the door when suddenly the stairs to her right creaked.

  Trudy had been upstairs. Disconcerted at the idea of her mother-in-law lurking outside their door while they slept, Kate slipped into the bedroom and headed for the dresser. A penlight was in her top drawer. Using it, she could make her way downstairs and discover what Trudy was doing.

  She rummaged around in the darkness until her fingers finally found it. Creeping back out of the room, she flicked it on when she’d reached the hallway and headed down the stairs. As she reached the bottom, she heard rustling coming from the kitchen. If Trudy were awake, maybe this would be a good time for some woman-to-woman bonding. Maybe
she could alleviate Trudy’s disapproval.

  Kate wended her way through the crowded parlor and through the dining room. When she passed the door to Trudy’s bedroom, she noticed that it was closed and that the kitchen was dark.

  She paused in the kitchen doorway as she shone the tiny light around the room. It was as empty of life as the back bedroom had been. If Trudy had been wandering around, she was safely in bed now.

  Half turning, Kate caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around and hit it with her light. She clutched her chest and exhaled.

  The back door—it stood partially open and was responsible for the shadow. With a shake of her head, Kate walked over to it. She knew rural areas didn’t have the same crime rate as the cities—but, honestly, not locking the doors at night! She’d never sleep easy knowing that anyone could walk into their house at any time. She’d talk to Joe about it in the morning.

  Her hand reached for the door, but another noise caught her attention. Something moved beyond the trees. Stepping out onto the small back porch, she crossed to the railing. She leaned against it and moved her light in a slow arc across the backyard.

  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

  Joseph 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?”

&nbs
p; 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.