The River Widow

by Ann Howard Creel

  “Was he a good stepfather?”

  He laughed dryly. “Hardly know. By that time, I was already running crazy wild, getting into trouble, then getting into rodeo. That’s where I fell in love with horses. I didn’t go back home until tuberculosis took my mother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I wanted to fight in the Great War, but they wouldn’t take me on account I’m color blind.”

  “Really?”

  “I can see some colors, but not all of them.” He glanced at her. “But I see that your eyes have some green in them.”

  She looked away, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, more questions falling into her mind, and a sense of something unspoken, something unknown, tilting her off guard. “That problem, the color blindness, it might have saved your life.”

  He said, “Maybe.”

  She glanced at him. “How did you end up on the river?”

  He gave off a shrug and a half smile. “When I was making my way around the country, I made a buddy who got me on a boat, then I worked my way up.”

  She could almost see him now, the younger Jack Darby—cocky, confident, tackling the world on his own two feet, much as she had been at one time. The things that mattered to independent, self-reliant people like Jack and her had to be as real as the light that shone on them now and the earth beneath their feet.

  “The river saved me in more ways than one.”

  Adah was puzzled. “How so?”

  “I’d finally found something I wanted, and so I gained focus. Learned. Became good at something besides being a reckless young man and . . .”

  “Catting around?” Adah asked and watched his face fall a bit. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to mince words around me.”

  “I fell in love with the woman a river is, complete with curves and changes of mood, and always in motion.”

  “How else did it save you?”

  “It’s confining, made sure I stayed within proper bounds. Sure, I moved up- and downriver, but I couldn’t ever stray very far from the water’s edge. I couldn’t leave my woman.” He winked.

  Adah blinked up at the sky. Jack was far more complex than she’d first thought him to be. More confounding. She found herself wanting to know more. “So why now, a farm?”

  “Why not?”

  Adah shrugged.

  “I started out near the sea, then spent most of my life on the river. Figured I’d find my own little piece of land and put down roots for the first time in my life. You probably noticed I don’t grow tobacco—too much work. Just some corn, and I’ve bred some horses, including that chestnut with socks they claim killed Betsy.”

  “So . . . you’ve found a real home.”

  “Something I’m guessing you’ve never done.”

  She made the corners of her mouth lift upward as she lowered her gaze from the sky to the woods. A clearly half-hearted smile. “I guess you’re right about that. For a moment, I thought we were alike, but even though I want it, I don’t imagine I’ll ever find a home.”

  Jack pulled in a deep breath, as if inhaling the moment with her. “It’s a good feeling, having a place of your own. I was once like you—full of doubts. But this place has been good for me. It takes all my thinking and keeps me from drifting.”

  She turned to face him. “Why do you need that? What are you afraid of?”

  “Now?” He glanced away quickly and didn’t answer. Adah realized Jack wasn’t scared of much, but perhaps the possibility of being alone for the rest of his life kept him up at night. What was his secret? She had the urge to ask him if the land was his woman now, but she hesitated. She didn’t know him well enough yet.

  Instead she said, “So you’re here now, but you’ve led an interesting life. You haven’t stayed in one place. And I bet you have stories. Many good stories. Maybe some secrets, too.”

  “I bet you do, too.”

  She trembled against the image of Lester sprawled on the ground after she’d killed him. For a moment, she struggled for air. “Not so much.”

  He persisted. “I bet you do.”

  His skin was flushed, and a sad, heated look flooded his face. Jack’s gaze fell over her in a way that spoke of kindness, maybe even loneliness. She sensed that he might be starting to care about her. What had she done? And yet his openness nudged at her heart. Such honesty was rare.

  Quickly she said “I need to go back now,” which broke the spell that had fallen over them.

  Upon their return to the barn, Adah unsaddled her mount, and as she was saying goodbye to the horse, Jack’s presence closed in behind her. His proximity brought on a chill, or was it a tingle? He was close enough behind her that she could hear him inhale sharply and feel the air he exhaled on her shoulder. His breath smelled of the earth.

  “Your hair is chocolate,” he said.

  She froze. Then spun around.

  His lips were still, his brows bisected his face in a straight line, and his eyes asked for a response. It was the first time she could remember having absolutely nothing to say.

  Your hair is chocolate. His words swooped around in her head, silencing all else, and his stare paralyzed her body. The grip of his eyes held her fast. Deep down, there was a quiver, a finger tapping at a door she thought she had closed for good.

  The power of his steady, intense attention pulled her into his face. He was a mix of a cowboy and a king, and he drew her inside the open doors of his insistent eyes.

  The world came to a stop, and in that tiny wink of time, nothing existed but the two of them. He held her gaze with a steady stare, as if he was absolutely sure of himself, as if he had read that deep down she needed adoration and he was the only one who could give her what she craved.

  Finally she said, “Excuse me,” and managed to walk away, leaving him standing in the barn, staring after her once again.

  After midnight Adah silently left the house through the back door and crossed the broad, open patch of land between the house and the old log curing barn; her body and shadow were distinct and sharply outlined like ink on the moonlit lawn.

  The image of Jack standing there looking at her had not left her mind. Had she wanted him to come after her? Should she have gone back?

  Both of the dogs rushed up to greet her, and one of them looked anxious. It was out of the ordinary for someone from the house to be outside in the middle of the night.

  She reached down to rub the dog’s head. Please don’t bark.

  With the dogs on her heels, she tried the doors of the curing barn and found them chained and held together by a padlock. Funny, she’d never noticed that the Branch men kept the door barred. Nothing else on the farm was so fortified, meaning that what lay inside had to be of importance.

  After picturing the hook on the hall tree where Buck always hung his keys, Adah crept back to the house and located the keys, gently took them down, and then retraced her steps toward the back of the house.

  A sound of creaking wood on the stairs. Adah’s heart catapulted and she swung the keys behind her.

  “Mama,” said Daisy, standing about halfway down the stairs and rubbing her eyes. “I woke up and you were gone.”

  “Shhh,” Adah whispered. “Everything’s alright. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

  “Are you coming back? I want to hear a story.”

  “Of course. Wait for me in bed. I’ll tuck you in. Give me just a few minutes, okay?”

  Daisy turned a moment later and seemed to float up the stairs, a small sleepy princess returning to her bed of flower petals. Adah waited a few minutes to make sure that no one else was up; then she resumed her quest, nearly running across the lawn to the curing barn again, fumbling through the keys until she located the right one, inserting it into the padlock, and turning it until she heard the click and the lock popped open.

  After slipping the chain off and laying it on the ground, Adah opened one of the double doors. Inside, the black obscurity was broken only by slivers of moonlight leak
ing in between the logs where the chinking needed repair. Not enough light for her to see. She took a few tentative steps while reaching forward with outstretched hands.

  She bumped against something and ran her hands over it. A table of sorts stacked with objects covered by a tarp. Carefully she pulled back the tarp, and her hands landed on what felt like quart-sized mason jars. Some were lightweight, as if empty, but others were filled and heavy with liquid, and she thought she smelled alcohol. To be sure, Adah grasped one of the full ones, unscrewed the lid, and breathed in the scent. Definitely moonshine. Adah replaced the lid and put it back where she’d found it, then fumbled around long enough to determine that there were stacks of similar jars on several tarp-covered tables. When her foot brushed up against something on the floor, she crouched down and explored, finding what seemed to be bags of sugar, enough for several families to bake pies and cakes for years to come.

  Obviously the old log curing barn was used to store and perhaps age the moonshine, and the still was probably located somewhere back in the woods near the creek. She didn’t even need to find the still; the amount of liquor in the log barn surpassed what would be considered appropriate for personal use. The Branches were indeed breaking the law, making and selling white lightning.

  Quickly she felt her way back through the doors, then looped the chain to hold the doors closed. Somehow the chain slipped out of her cold hands and landed coiled on the ground, metal against metal, making a loud clinking sound.

  She stopped breathing and instinctively fell to her knees as one of the dogs let out a confused, muted, growling type of bark. How had she let the chain fall from her hands? How could she have been so careless? Now she would be found out, and what excuse would she have for having gone snooping?

  Someone must have heard; she was sure of it. Curling inward, she scooted up against the barn door, hoping to hide in the shadows, even though it would do no good. At any moment, she would see a light go on in the house or hear the back door flung open.

  Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as she waited to be discovered. And waited.

  But nothing happened. Perhaps in her excited, anxious state, Adah had imagined the sounds of the chain and the dog’s half bark to be much louder than they were. The house remained silent while Adah gradually regained her composure, gazed in gratitude up at the sky, and eased to a standing position again, barely breathing.

  Still half expecting to be met somewhere along the way with a gun aimed at her head, slowly but surely she retraced her steps back to her room.

  She was tired. Suddenly so tired. Daisy had fallen back to sleep, and Adah crept slowly into the room, then lowered herself onto the bed, lifted her legs, and lay down on her side, hugging her pillow. She gazed out beyond the window, where the moon was sinking and new leaves flitted in the branches just outside.

  The view brought back memories of her childhood before her parents died. She blinked and wished for the impossible. It wasn’t long before she had been forced to face the reality of being an orphan. Then reality after reality. And now the newest ones: The Branches were capable of hiding a murder. And they were making moonshine. Her mind was awash now in new questions, the main one being, How can I use this to my advantage?

  Chapter Fifteen

  After church on Sunday, Mabel seemed to be going to extra trouble for supper that night. She had pulled out her best Crooksville china, baked fresh bread, and was making an extra pie for dessert—one made with strawberries, the other custard. Adah then noticed that none of the Branches had changed out of their church attire. A guest or guests must be coming, Adah concluded. Building up courage, Adah offered once again to help Mabel in the kitchen.

  “No, thanks,” Mabel replied as she pulled a pork roast out of the oven and started to baste it, not making eye contact with Adah.

  The “thanks” part was new, and Mabel was moving around excitedly, as if anticipating something special.

  “Are we having guests for supper?” Adah asked.

  Mabel looked up at her warily. “You could say that.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Mabel snapped. Then, changing her tone somewhat, she said, “Keep Daisy in her church dress, and don’t go letting her get dirty. We want her looking her best.”

  Looking her best? Daisy? What did this guest or guests have to do with Daisy? As Adah had feared, so far there had been no lifting of her restrictions. She had not been allowed to take Daisy with her on her laundry rounds, not even to see the family with children Daisy could’ve played with. She and Daisy were like prisoners here, barely seen by others. So why did Daisy need to look good today? Instead of clarity, Adah had gained nothing but new questions. Who was the mystery guest? And what scheme was Mabel launching?

  “I don’t want no trouble outa you today, you hear? Both you and the girl need to be on your best behavior,” Mabel said as she continued to flutter about the kitchen.

  The thought of food curdled Adah’s stomach. She had to inhale deeply and let out her air slowly. Hoping to calm herself, she turned away and left, knowing she would receive no answers from Mabel.

  Soon after, Jesse drove away in the sedan and returned about half an hour later. From an upstairs window, Adah watched him pull up, get out of the car, and go around to open the passenger-side door.

  A woman stepped out. A tall woman who looked to be in her early thirties, wearing a severe dark-brown suit without jewelry or adornments, but having a stately and noble appearance. A memory of the woman suddenly floated to the surface of Adah’s mind. Esther Heiser, a former teacher and now the principal of the town’s elementary school. She was the district’s staff advisor and the only woman on the school board. She had visited the Branches’ church a time or two.

  Adah couldn’t imagine why she was here. Daisy wasn’t old enough to start school.

  Adah watched as Jesse led Esther to the front steps. She walked as upright as a flagpole, and Adah remembered her impression of the woman, that she seemed as allergic to smiling as the Branches did. She had a plain appearance with small birdlike eyes, a stern face, and her dull hair pulled back taut with combs. Adah was intimidated by a woman who was so well educated, who functioned on the same level as men, and whose astute eyes searched with the calm sharpness of someone who knew a lot about people. Both her striking demeanor and position in the community had inspired in Adah a rather wary admiration.

  So what was Esther Heiser doing as a supper guest of the Branches?

  As Esther climbed the front-porch steps, Jesse placed his hand at the small of her back. Adah blinked a few times. Was it even remotely possible that Jesse Branch and Esther Heiser were dating? How could a woman who didn’t need a man, who had a career and a life of her own, possibly be interested in Jesse Branch? A woman like Esther Heiser would be too smart for that.

  And then a surge of excitement. Tonight there would be conversation at the table. The Branches would be putting on their happy-family act. Adah was still nervous about Mabel’s mention of Daisy’s attire and what it meant, but at least this would amount to a different afternoon and evening.

  Adah headed downstairs with Daisy in tow and found Jesse, Buck, Mabel, and Esther standing in the living room sipping on iced teas that Mabel had already passed out. Immediately Adah noticed that Jesse was wearing heady aftershave. After cursory introductions were made, Adah couldn’t wait to speak to Esther.

  “Do you recognize me?” she asked Esther and stepped up to greet her. Esther’s face was unreadable as she stared down at Adah. But now Adah could get a better look at the woman’s hands—square and sturdy and large as a man’s, but also smooth and nicely manicured. Hands that had seen very little labor during their lives, not even household work. She could also see that Esther’s skin was almost translucent, and her eyebrows had been plucked into two barely arched narrow lines.

  Esther’s voice was strong but cool. “I think so.”

  Adah said, “I’ve seen you at
church.”

  Esther’s gaze was of solemn appraisal. Not warm, but not distant, either. Just plain there . She had probably learned a great deal of self-composure and restraint from working around teachers, parents, and powerful men. Esther stood rock still as she spoke. “Yes, I’ve seen you several times.”

  Adah pushed back her hair. The afternoon was warm, and that, combined with her bafflement over Esther, was making perspiration bead on Adah’s forehead. “I had no idea you were coming over.”

  “I had no idea you would be here.”

  Adah tried smiling. “I live here.”

  Jesse said, “We’ve given Lester’s widow a place to stay until she can get back on her feet.”

  Well, that was about the nicest thing Adah had heard since coming back from the river to the Branch house. Maybe they were softening toward her in ways she had yet to see.

  “I see.”

  Adah stared; she couldn’t help herself. “Welcome. It’s so nice to have you here.”

  The Branches were watching this interaction with fierce attention, but they made no interference. Mabel’s eyes were sharp points.

  Esther said, “Thank you.”

  “Congratulations on the school board.”

  “Hardly,” said Esther with a tiny smirk. “It’s a battle.”

  “But you’re so accomplished,” Adah objected.

  Esther leaned in closer. “I’m accomplished on the job.”

  Adah blinked hard. She couldn’t get a grasp on Esther Heiser. Something in the other woman’s eyes remained untamed, even though her words were so direct and sensible. Despite the contradiction, Adah was happy to have another woman to talk to.

  “So why do you do it? I mean, bother with the board, since you’re already an accomplished teacher and principal?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. To do my part in a bigger way. To help more than just my students and teachers. To get out of my house when I need to.” Adah could see Esther swallow. “I live alone.”

  Adah’s words seemed to come of their own bidding. If the Branches liked Esther, perhaps they wouldn’t mind Adah keeping company with her. They wouldn’t want to have to explain that Adah was a virtual prisoner here. “Do you want to go to a movie or lunch someday . . . ?” Her mouth dried. Why was she asking this?