At first, she couldn’t believe her ears. Did he know of her plight? There was a surreal, almost dreamlike quality about the way he’d made this simple statement. Was he the kind of person who simply knew things? Was he someone like Florence Wainwright, who might understand her predicament? Relief fell over her like a net, but there was a barb of fear in that net, too.
Her gaze met his: open, candid, dauntless.
She had but one moment to gain his confidence. The only card she could play now was honesty. “I need help,” she said.
He gave one nod of his head.
Adah found herself breathing deeply. “Will you help me? Will you, please? I’d be so grateful, you have no idea.”
“Why? What’s been happening to you?”
A horrible urge to tell him everything struck her through the heart. The need for release was overwhelming, but not enough to break down her barriers. She could confide in no one, trust no one, not ever. Not completely. The Branches might still have friends, despite it all. She said, “Nothing. I simply need some legal information.”
He looked away, as if searching for the right words in the air. Adah could almost feel the machinations going on in his head. She had a strong sense that he knew more than he was telling her. She could feel the intensity of what he held inside, and she could see it in his stillness. And he knew there was more to her story, too. It was as if they both sat perched on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to jump first.
Finally he leaned closer, and his tone was respectful, although there was a hint of challenge in his searching gaze. “It’s going to be rough passing messages between two people and making sure no one else knows about it.”
She tried smiling. “It’s what I want to do, what I need to do. Or if it’s easier for you, I could probably mail a letter from home in secret and ask for replies to be sent back here to you. Have you ever in your life needed legal advice?”
His gaze was unwavering, unflinching. Ignoring her question, he said, “Messing with the Branches, it’s not a job for a woman.”
A tiny flare of anger burst inside her. She remembered living on the streets, camping out with Henry and Chester, thriving without anyone’s help, even though she had been told that doing so would be the death of her. This was no different. “I’m not a typical woman.”
He leaned back a notch and appraised her anew. “Why would you trust me? Out of all the complete strangers ’round here, why did you pick me?”
She grasped her hands together in her lap. “I just did. No reason. Call me crazy; it might be true.”
He smiled. Then his smile faded, and he waited for a few moments and said slowly but surely, “I need to know what’s going on.”
Gulping, Adah let a few moments of silence expand the space between them. “As I already said, I don’t believe in airing dirty laundry—”
“So you came here acting like you want to be my friend, but you won’t tell me what the problem is.”
More long, heavy moments ensued, and Adah didn’t know if she was being dismissed or was welcome to stay and sit awhile longer. She hoped that the more time she spent, the more he would warm to her and help her.
“Could I ask you something?” he said.
Not more questions, she thought, but she nodded.
“When you first came out here, what were you looking for?”
His question took her by surprise, and her heart stuttered. “When I first came?” Adah shrugged in as casual a way as she could manage. “I came to get married.”
“Beyond that. Everyone is looking for something.”
“At the moment, I’m looking for an attorney.”
He glanced down and then back up to study her more. “Should you have come here?”
Adah wasn’t sure why he was interrogating her, what he wanted from her. It was clear she was going to have to bare some of her soul in order to obtain Jack Darby’s assistance. Ignoring warning stabs in her stomach, she said, “Living here has changed me.”
“That so?” he said.
“I used to look for meaning in everything. Now I see that little of that matters. Things come about or they don’t.”
His face softened, and he appeared to be sorry for her, sorry he’d asked her anything. “Mrs. Branch, I think you’re wrong about that. We’re here to make things come about.”
Adah remembered nights lying awake by the campfire, dreaming of a different life, a new life, of love, of happiness. What an odd conversation this had turned out to be. “You want me to bare my soul, while you refuse to even call me by my first name.”
“Like I said, this isn’t going to be easy. I need to know who I’m helping and why. You’re asking me for a favor, but you’re leaving me in the dark.”
Neither spoke for long minutes.
She held his eyes until he finally said, “I can’t do it.”
Stunned into silence, Adah sat still while tears gathered behind her eyelids. She had been so close, and she couldn’t fathom this sharp turn, this blunt denial. She nearly choked on her disbelief and anger. “Please tell me why.”
He twitched once. “I just can’t do it.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “I’m disappointed. I’ve been looking for someone to help me for some time now. You have a sense of my quandary—I can tell—and yet . . .” Her bottom lip quivered, and she bit it. “If you aren’t interested, maybe you know someone else who’d be willing to help me quietly and earn some money in the process.”
“No one else will help you.”
Adah wanted to scream. She wanted to shout, Why not? She wished she could tear off this armor and tell him how much this meant to her and Daisy.
But she couldn’t form the words.
Instead she gathered her composure. Grappling, she said, “Why won’t anyone help me? Why?”
“I think you know why. The Branches have a long history, not only with the Ku Klux Klan, but with using people, cheating people in general. I heard that if you hurt them, even in business, they’ll hurt you back double. Isn’t that why you don’t want them to know you’re going to an attorney?”
“I’ll pay more.”
He said, “You insult me by offering me money.”
She blinked hard again. “How do I insult you? I’m offering you a fair business deal.”
His eyebrows, which were heavy and set in a straight line, shifted, but there was no other change in his face.
“This isn’t just about business, is it?” He sighed. “It’s much more than that.”
All the way back home, she admonished herself. She should have left Jack Darby alone. She wished she could take it all back. If only she hadn’t gone. Her steps thumped the dirt road to the same beat that a cacophony built in her head, till she was nearly running and crossed a rare intersection of roads only to realize that she had lurched in front of an oncoming Plymouth pickup truck. She didn’t know the family inside.
“Excuse me,” she mouthed to their astonished faces.
Chapter Twelve
Jack Darby’s dismissal had hit her hard. She tangled with the sheets at night as she tried to think of someone else to ask for help. To whom could she turn next? She had thought Mr. Darby would pave the way, but he had inexplicably shut down that path. How he’d said No one else will help you was another blow.
And now, every day, she watched the Branches anew. It was late March, and the men were mixing the minute tobacco seeds with ash, hand-sowing the seedbeds, and raking and walking the seeds in. Adah helped the men with the final step for the seedbeds, staking and then sheltering them with linen. At the end of the day, Buck and Jesse sometimes disappeared into the old log curing barn, loading crates from it into the truck bed after nightfall and then heading off to God only knew where. There was another secret out there, she knew it.
One night Adah, trying to make her voice as neutral as possible, asked Mabel, “Where are the men off to?”
Adah had just handed over her laundry earnings for the week, keeping a few coins for herself
and Daisy, and Mabel had put the money in her pocket as usual without thanking Adah. “They got business in town.”
“This late?”
Mabel froze for a moment, then turned to face the icebox as if about to open the door. “What’s it to you?” she said over her shoulder.
Adah replied to Mabel’s back, “Just curious.”
Mabel finally turned around, never having opened the icebox. She was having trouble meeting Adah’s eyes. “I stay out of their business. You best do the same thing.”
“Alright,” Adah said and relished a tiny victory. Her question had unnerved Mabel, who was gazing away wistfully, and Adah thought she saw something sorrowful and maybe a bit regretful in the woman’s eyes.
“I was wondering,” Adah began, “if I could take Daisy with me when I return the laundry the next time I visit that family with all the redheaded kids. Since it’s getting warm, I think Daisy would benefit from some fresh air.”
Mabel’s face hardened as she stared at Adah. “Daisy can get fresh air right here.”
“I know, but the walk might do her some good. And I don’t get to play with her much anymore since I’m working most of the day. She could play with some other children for a short while. I just thought she’d like it.”
Through her stern mouth, Mabel spat, “That girl is just fine. And you know Buck don’t want you to take her anywheres off this property. So why are you asking me?”
Adah shrugged. “I know you love your granddaughter, Mabel, and I was only thinking of her. What harm could come from it?”
Mabel looked doubtful but also the tiniest bit sympathetic, the tiniest bit vulnerable. What was going through her head? Could Mabel ever relent? Could she ever allow a crack to open in the wall between them?
“Maybe you could ask Buck about it.”
Mabel visibly bristled. “I don’t have to ask my husband’s permission for decisions I can make on my own. Now that you done said such a foolhardy thing, you made up my mind. You ain’t taking Daisy anywhere, not now, not ever.”
The next day, the hum of a car’s engine grew louder as it came up the drive. Adah had just started down the steps, holding on her hip Jack Darby’s laundry basket full of clean and ironed clothing and sheets. She was planning to go return his things, although she dreaded seeing him.
The sheriff’s department car came all the way to the house, bringing with it a more desperate shade of dread.
A man of about Buck’s age stepped out from the car. He was more white haired, taller, and thinner than Buck, but he had the same commanding manner about him, one that said he was fierce and would always get his way. His step was heavy, and his eyes were sharper than Buck’s, too, with an eaglelike intensity.
“Adah Branch,” he said in a calm, smooth tone that spoke of endless confidence.
“Yes, I’m Adah Branch.”
He strode up to her. “Manfred Drucker here.” He hadn’t needed to tell her; she already knew. Immediately she noticed his large-knuckled, big-boned hands and nails cut to the quick as if he’d groomed himself with a blade. If hands could be cruel, they would look like his. He asked, “How are you this sunny day?”
“Fine.”
“Good, good. So . . . what do you say let’s you and me sit down and talk for a spell.”
Adah fought for composure. Showing any signs of guilt would be devastating around this man. “Sure thing.” She gestured with her free hand toward the house. “Would you like to sit on the porch?”
“Now that’d be right nice,” Drucker said with a sly smile.
Adah led the way, and on the porch she set down the laundry basket, and they sat on the rocking chairs. Drucker turned his chair to face her more directly.
“What brings you here today?” Adah asked when it became obvious he was still studying her, trying to make her squirm.
Drucker sat back, stilled the chair, and, with his elbows on the armrests, steepled his hands in front of him. Steady as a stone. “You know, me and Buck go back a long ways,” he said while keeping his eyes fixed on her.
“I heard about that.”
A tiny hint of a smile curled one side of his lips. “You heard right. Me and him grew up together. Yep, sure did, and over the years we done some favors for each other.” He blinked once. “Too bad I wasn’t here when they done found Lester’s body.”
“Yes,” Adah said and gulped. “My husband.”
“Yep, I would’ve liked to been around so I could help out with the police for my old friend.”
Adah simply waited, trying to keep her expression as open and unguarded as possible.
“But since I come back, old Buck here, he done come around and told me some interesting stories and proposed some interesting theories.”
Adah never even shifted in her seat. She’d known something like this was coming, but Drucker’s scrutiny was worse than she’d imagined. And still she remained blank on the outside.
“He’s plumb convinced you had something to do with his son’s death.”
Adah allowed herself to exhale slowly. “Yes, I know. I think it’s very difficult for Buck to believe that something so random and cruel could’ve happened to his son. He can’t accept it, he needs someone to blame.”
One of Drucker’s eyebrows lowered. “That so? That your theory?”
“Yes.”
Now he sat forward and let his hands fall. “Buck says when he saw Lester’s body, it looked like his head had been bashed in.”
“Yes, I know that, too. But the police saw nothing of concern. Although I’m sure Buck and Jesse tried to change their minds.”
Drucker made a fist out of his right hand and gently bumped it against his thigh. Once, twice. “But I weren’t there to see for myself.”
He waited, and Adah had nothing to say to that at first. But then she picked up a thought. “The coroner was there.”
Drucker allowed a smile, as if enjoying this game. “Funny thing you mention that. I had me a talk with the coroner, and the way he sees it, Lester got struck in the head while he was caught up in the river before he drowned. He also had some broken ribs and a broken leg. He got pretty roughed up. You know about all that?”
Adah shook her head. “I didn’t want to know the details.”
“Oh, but the devil is in the details, honey.” He smirked. “The devil is in the details. What he said didn’t rule out what Buck suspects. The coroner done guessed it happened in the water, those injuries, but he don’t know that for sure. That’s the way I see it.”
Adah fought the urge to grasp her hands together, instead keeping them still in her lap. “I don’t think anyone else on the police force or in the sheriff’s department agrees with you.”
He laughed, a loud, menacing bark. “They don’t yet.” He scooted his chair closer and leaned in farther. “Let me tell you something, sweetheart. There was a rush to get Lester into the ground, condition he was. There was no autopsy done. They should’ve done it, but they didn’t. But his body can still be exhumed. There can still be an autopsy.” He paused. “That’s the only way to know for sure how he died.”
Her mind scrambled, but she kept control over her voice, hard as it was. “The river was full of debris—big things, like logs and doors and tanks. I was in it, too. I know.”
“Yep, I know about that. But like I said, there’s only one way to find out for sure the cause of death. You’re the man’s widow, so I figured you’d want to know how he died.”
“I already know how he died.”
He smiled again, as if he might have admired her spunk for a passing moment. “According to you, yes. And if you got nothing to hide, I reckon you wouldn’t have no objection to getting that body back out of the ground and doing some work on it, now, would you?”
Adah shrugged. “I think it’s desecration of a body that’s already been put to rest, but if you’re asking if I’d put up a fight . . . probably not.”
“Good to know,” he said, nodding. “Good to know.”
&
nbsp; Adah kept still. The idea of an autopsy was terrifying. She knew little of forensics but had the impression it was known for accuracy. But could an autopsy be accurate enough to determine if Lester had died from a blow before he went into the water? Could the past come back in such a powerful way? Could she still be found guilty of murder?
Drucker fished a small notepad out from his jacket’s inside pocket. “Why don’t you tell me the events of that night, blow by blow.” He threw her a menacing stare. “Blow by blow, so to speak.”
Adah didn’t crumble but instead relayed her now tired, worn story, including how she and Lester had gone for the milk cow, being careful not to add anything or leave anything out.
After he listened while observing her with a skeptical eye, he made a few notes, then abruptly closed the notepad and seemed to be working himself up to leave.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Adah asked.
He smiled ruefully. “I think we done enough for one day.” He stood, and Adah followed him to the porch steps.
Adah said to his back, “I have a question.” Then sucked in a tight breath as Drucker turned to face her. She had to let Drucker know she was no easy target. “If I may be so bold as to ask.”
He swept his right hand in front of himself. “Go on ahead.”
“Why did you come out here to question me?” Adah figured Drucker didn’t have enough cause to bring her to the station for a more formal interrogation, and she hoped she was correct. “Why didn’t you take me to your headquarters if you suspect me of something? Why not bring me in?”
He seemed a bit startled. Then quickly recovered. “You want me to do that? Believe me, sweetheart, I can bring you in at any time.”
Adah shrugged. “No, thank you.”
He laughed again, and the sound grated against Adah’s skin. “You want me to put you in handcuffs, too?”
“No, thank you,” Adah said again.
He was openly studying her. Then he finally said, “You can be sure I aim to keep in touch, Adah Branch. And you best know this, too: I’ll be quietly working behind the scenes to get to the bottom of this matter. It takes a while to get a body exhumed, but you better believe I’m going to keep at it till it’s done.”
The River Widow Page 11
