The Widows of Braxton County

by Jess McConkey

  Ida came up to her and placed both hands on Hannah’s shoulders, turning her around. She studied Hannah for a moment, then shook her head. “That’s always been your problem, but you must . . . must,” she emphasized, “quit. If they question you again, think before you speak.”

  Hannah lifted an eyebrow. “That’s easier said than done.”

  “That may be, but think of Willie.”

  “I know.” She rubbed her upper arms, suddenly chilled. “I won’t allow Jacob to reach from beyond the grave and ruin Willie’s life. Joseph can’t be appointed Willie’s guardian.”

  Ida put her arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “I don’t believe there is a will. I think Joseph was trying to trick you.” She released Hannah and stepped away. “Louis thinks that you stand to inherit the biggest portion of this,” she said with a sweep of her arm.

  “Joseph wouldn’t like that.”

  “No, he won’t and we’ll fight him in court if necessary,” she answered with a smirk. “We’ll let things settle a bit, then I’ll have Louis send a telegram to Andrew Lubinus.”

  “Who?”

  “Andrew Lubinus. He’s a brilliant young attorney and has already handled several difficult cases. Louis knows his father,” she said in a satisfied voice. “Andrew has never lost, and they’re already predicting that he’ll be an important man someday.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ll see how someone as backward as Joseph likes coming up against Andrew.”

  “Don’t underestimate Joseph,” Hannah warned.

  “Nonsense,” Ida replied with a wave of her hand. “Andrew will make Joseph wish he’d never—” She stopped at the sight of a buggy coming up the road. “Who can that be?” she asked, shading her eyes.

  Hannah gave a small gasp as she recognized Sheriff Winter driving the buggy.

  Both women watched silently while the sheriff came to a stop in front of the house. He dismounted and approached them with a stone-faced expression.

  Hannah’s hand flew to her throat. “You have news about Jacob’s murder?”

  With weary eyes, he looked directly at Hannah and shifted uncomfortably. “Hannah Krause, I have a warrant arresting you for the murder of Jacob Krause.”

  Black spots danced in Hannah’s vision and she heard a roaring in her ears. No . . . no . . . this can’t be. She felt her knees weaken as Ida reached out to steady her. The sudden slam of the screen door made Hannah stiffen.

  “Hello, Sheriff Winter,” Willie called out brightly as he skipped down the porch steps. He ran to his mother, and looking up, his eyebrows drew together. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his small hand stealing into Hannah’s.

  Hannah exhaled slowly and forced a smile. She knelt and brushed the hair from his forehead. Glancing at her sister who stood with her hand clamped tightly to her lips, Hannah gave a slight shake of her head. She returned her attention to Willie and broadened her smile.

  “There’s been a mistake and—”

  “What kind of a mistake?” Willie asked, cocking his head.

  “It’s one that can’t be straightened out here, so I need to go with Sheriff Winter.”

  “But you’re comin’ back, right?”

  Hannah stood and tousled his hair. “Of course I am.” She motioned to her sister. “I want you to go with your aunt Ida now,” she said, bending to place a kiss on the top of his head.

  Ida took Willie’s hand, then leaned in and hugged Hannah.

  “Take care of him,” Hannah whispered in Ida’s ear. “And have Louis send the telegram today.”

  Sheriff Winter slowed the buggy as they approached a white two-story house with a small stone building attached to its side. Hannah gulped as she noticed the barred windows of the smaller building.

  After coming to a halt, the sheriff dismounted and hitched the buggy to the post. At the same time, the front door of the house opened and a slight woman, dressed in a simple day dress with her hair pulled into a neat bun atop her head, stepped out. The sheriff’s wife, Nora, hesitated, then crossed the porch and came down the steps to the buggy.

  Two small faces pressed against one of the front windows caught Hannah’s attention—the oldest of the Winters’ four young children. Pain stabbed at her as she remembered the questioning look on Willie’s face as Ida led him away. She lowered her head and swallowed hard. She couldn’t bear the sight of those children.

  Sheriff Winter gently took her arm and guided her toward the stone building. With a shudder, Hannah stepped inside.

  Four stone walls surrounded her. The center of the room was open but had two cells running down the north and south side of the building, each containing a small barred window. In the center sat a cast-iron potbellied stove and a small desk. To her right and next to the door, a set of keys hung from a nail. Sheriff Winter removed the keys and unlocked one of the cell doors. After stepping back, he motioned for Hannah to enter the cell.

  Hannah faltered as unshed tears threatened to gag her. How could this be happening? With misery written on her face, she turned to the sheriff.

  “Why? Why am I being charged?” she choked.

  Ill at ease, he rocked back on his heels and refused to meet her stare. “The warrant was issued last night at the insistence of the county attorney.” He looked up. “I’m sorry, Hannah—I’m only doing my job.”

  “I’m innocent,” Hannah cried.

  He turned his head. “That’s something for the court to decide,” he replied. “Please step inside.”

  Hannah felt as if every muscle had turned soft and she stumbled forward. Catching herself, she stiffened her spine. She survived years of her husband’s abuse and—damn it—she’d survive this, too. With a deep breath, she entered the cell and didn’t turn until the door clanged shut behind her.

  He held out his arm to his wife. “Nora will be taking care of your needs,” he said abruptly, then strode from the room, leaving his wife and Hannah staring at each other through the bars of the cell.

  Nora cleared her throat. “The cot’s not much, but the sheets and blanket are clean,” she said, not masking the pity in her voice.

  Hannah gathered her shattered pride and began a slow walk around the cell.

  Nora continued. “There’s fresh water and a tin cup in the pail. Breakfast is at seven; dinner at noon; and supper at six.” She pivoted to leave. “Oh,” she said over her shoulder in a low voice, “the chamber pot is under the cot.”

  “Will I be able to see my family?” Hannah asked softly.

  “Probably not today.”

  Hannah nodded. “Thank you.”

  Nora inclined her head in response then quickly crossed to the door leading out of the jail. After opening it, she stepped over the threshold and shut the door firmly behind her.

  At the sound of the lock clicking into place, Hannah’s control fell away in tattered pieces. She sank to the cot and buried her face in the pillow while sobs wracked her shoulders. She had to find a way to save her son.

  Chapter 25

  Fall 1890, the Braxton County Jail

  Hannah’s days stretched into an endless, boring routine. Due to the “heinous” nature of the crime, the judge had refused to grant bail. Now finally, after weeks of waiting, the trial was set to begin in a couple of days.

  Hannah agreed with Ida’s assessment of Andrew Lubinus. Tall, dark haired, and with dancing brown eyes, charm graced his every move. And his voice—smooth, yet at the same time commanding. Hannah had no trouble imagining him standing before a jury and delivering an impassioned summation. She was also aware of his ambition. It sparked beneath the surface of his captivating demeanor and flared whenever Louis questioned him on points of her defense.

  The only bright spot of her days had been her growing relationship with Sheriff Winter’s young daughter, Essie, who was close to Willie’s age. The child helped her mother by doing chores around the jail. Hannah discovered that Essie possessed a sharp, curious mind and loved to read, so together, they’d spent afternoons reading
Aesop’s Fables, The Prince and the Pauper, and Hannah’s best-loved book, Pride and Prejudice. Essie’s excitement over the unfolding tale of the Bennet sisters made Hannah feel as if she, too, were experiencing the book for the first time. Still, Essie’s companionship did little to heal the yawning hole in her heart caused by her separation from Willie.

  Each time Ida had been allowed to visit, the conversation had centered on him. She had been relieved to learn that Joseph was steering clear of both the house and Willie. According to Ida, the boy was confused by the rumors he’d overheard about his mother, but well.

  Hannah absentmindedly smoothed the skirt of her black dress. Andrew had instructed her to wear the black silk during the trial, but no widow’s veil. She’d still wear the hat, but thankfully the veil would not be covering her face. Andrew had stressed the importance of the jury looking at her as a person, not a lump of black sitting at the table for the defense. Ida was bringing the dress today, and it would be their last meeting before the trial started. Today was her only chance to persuade Ida and Louis to agree to her demands.

  After crossing to the cot, Hannah picked up the document Andrew had prepared at her request. She clutched it tightly. Could she go through with it?

  The sound of voices drifting through the open window suddenly caught her attention. The sheriff and Nora. She moved closer to the window.

  “This is a travesty, Gus,” Nora declared.

  “Nora, you’re letting yourself be swayed by Hannah’s kindness to Essie.”

  “No, I’m not. Do you think if I really felt she was guilty I would have allowed Essie to spend time with her?”

  “No.”

  “There is no harm in that woman,” she insisted.

  “Sweetheart . . . that’s for the courts to decide,” he replied softly.

  “And will those courts be fair? Everyone overlooked Jacob’s ‘spells’ for years, and the poor woman was crucified in the papers after her arrest,” she cried vehemently. “What if it happens again? What if public sentiment is against her again? Do you really think she’ll receive justice?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered softly.

  Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise at Nora’s fervent support and the sheriff’s reaction. An argument like this with Jacob would never have included gentle words. A slap across the face was more likely.

  “Well, you’re the sheriff. Do something about it,” she exclaimed.

  “My hands are tied. Charles Walker is convinced she’s guilty.”

  “And will do whatever it takes to prove it,” Nora shot back.

  “Now, Nora—”

  “What about Peter Ziegler?” she asked, cutting him off. “He hated Jacob. How do you know he didn’t slip in and kill Jacob while Hannah was with Willie?”

  “His sister, Minnie, swears he was at her place all day, putting up hay, then he spent the night.”

  “She could be lying,” Nora insisted. “He could’ve slipped out during the night.”

  “Maybe, but there’s no way to prove it.”

  “What about the knife? Hannah swore she’d never seen it before.”

  “I don’t know, Nora . . .” His voice trailed away. “We checked and it’s a Sheffield knife. Hannah doesn’t have any knives like that. That pattern is still manufactured, but not that style of knife. And it’s old and used—there are scratches along the blade.” He hesitated. “Abe said that the knife reminded him of one his father had. His old man had taken it off a dead Confederate soldier down in Atlanta.”

  “Honestly, Gus! How would Hannah get her hands on a knife dating back to the Civil War?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know . . . maybe it was Jacob’s. Hannah found it and used it.”

  “Ha,” she snorted. “If that knife is a valuable war trophy . . . As much as Jacob liked to brag, don’t you think he would’ve showed it off to visitors? He wasn’t in the war, was he?”

  “No. In fact his wife was a Southerner. The story goes, he met her while she was up North visiting a cousin.”

  “Gus, you have to fix this.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “Go back out to the house—see if there’s something you might have missed.”

  “It’s been weeks, sweetheart. If we had overlooked something, it’s long gone by now. Besides,” he insisted, “I’m confident that we didn’t make a slip investigating the scene.”

  “Gus—”

  Silence grew and Hannah peeked over the edge of the window.

  Gus had his arms around Nora and appeared to be murmuring in her ear while he stroked her back.

  Hannah stepped away at the sight of such tenderness between a husband and wife and felt a spark of jealousy. Why hadn’t her father married her off to a man like the sheriff? One who would’ve cared and respected her. She looked at the gray walls surrounding her. Her life would’ve been so different.

  She glanced down at the papers still gripped in her hand. If Jacob had never come into her life, she’d never have known the joy of raising her son.

  Her mouth tensed with determination. Willie was all that mattered now.

  It was late afternoon when Hannah gathered with Ida and Louis around the jail’s small desk. Since her arrest, only her visits with Andrew had been private. Either Abe or the sheriff monitored the rest. The sheriff now stood leaning against the wall near the door.

  Ida’s hand stole across the desk and clasped Hannah’s tightly. “This will soon be over,” she said bravely. “Andrew is confident in winning an acquittal.”

  Hannah forced a smile. “I hope he’s right.” Her smile fell away as she withdrew the papers from the pocket of her dress. Unable to meet Ida’s eyes, she smoothed the papers out on the desk. “There’s something,” she said hesitantly, “that I need to discuss with you.”

  Ida released Hannah’s hand and peered at the document in alarm. “What’s that?”

  Taking a deep breath, Hannah then launched into her explanation. “Guardianship papers—”

  Ida shot to her feet. “What? No—”

  Hannah held up a hand, stopping her. “Wait . . . listen to me,” she pleaded. “Andrew may be confident over the outcome of this trial, but I can’t take any chances. No matter what happens, I have to make sure Willie is protected.” She frowned. “I don’t trust Joseph and I have to make sure Willie stays out of his control.”

  “I understand. I don’t trust him either, but,” Ida argued, “is this necessary?”

  “Yes, it is,” Hannah said as she pulled Ida back into her chair. “I know taking in someone else’s child is a big responsibility—” Her voice caught. “But Willie’s a good boy . . . and won’t be any trouble, I swear.”

  Ida leaned over and put her arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “Of course, Willie’s a good boy and we love him, but I can’t take him away from you.”

  Hannah gave a bitter laugh. “If I’m convicted, the court will separate us.” She picked up the papers and handed them to Ida. “Joseph wants control of the farm, Ida, and if that means taking Willie to get it, he’ll do it.” She looked at Louis for support.

  “She’s right,” he answered, stroking his chin. “As the boy’s brother, he could petition for custody. He’s closer kin than we are, so the court might grant it.”

  Ida withdrew her arm from Hannah’s shoulders and sat back in her chair. “But—” she began.

  “Please,” Hannah cried. “I don’t have a choice. I won’t have the strength to face the trial unless I know that Willie’s safe from Joseph.”

  Ida and Louis exchanged a long look, then finally nodded in agreement.

  Hannah breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the sheriff. “Andrew said this agreement must be witnessed and notarized.”

  With a pained expression on his face, Sheriff Winter pushed off against the wall. “Ben Hutchinson is a notary. I’ll send Essie to fetch him.” He jerked his head toward the house. “Abe’s here, so we both can serve as witnesses.”

  He opened the
door and called to Essie. When she appeared, he gave her his instructions, then turned toward Hannah.

  “Are you sure?” he questioned.

  “Yes,” she replied slowly, “but I’d appreciate if everyone kept silent about this. I don’t want Joseph to know.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sheriff Winter, Abe, and Ben Hutchinson gathered with Hannah, Ida, and Louis around the small desk. In a moment it was finished. Hannah had given away her son.

  Chapter 26

  Fall 2012, Braxton County Hospital

  The sound of voices pulled Kate out of a deep sleep. Her first emotion was one of relief. A nightmare—it was only a nightmare.

  Bits and pieces of it glided through her head . . . a storm, a rain-slick highway, the thump of the windshield wipers as they fought against a torrential downpour. She remembered the urgency she felt. In the dream, she had to reach her destination, but now what that had been, eluded her.

  Her mouth felt dry and her tongue thick. She wanted a glass of water, but didn’t have the strength to open her eyes let alone get out of bed to fetch one.

  Words spoken as if in a tunnel began to penetrate her brain.

  “. . . and her reaction was off,” one voice said.

  “The doctor blamed it on shock,” another voice replied.

  “The sooner we question her, the better.”

  “I know, but you can’t right now. The doctors want her to wake up from the sedative on her own.” Kate heard the speaker exhale slowly.

  “Where’s the mother?”

  “At the farm. She refused to have anyone drive her home, but a friend was coming to stay with her.”

  “The team’s there, too, right?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t expect they’ll find much after that heavy rain. Damn it,” the voice exclaimed. “We need to talk to her.”

  “As soon as she wakes up, we will.”

  A memory niggled at the corners of Kate’s brain, trying to eat its way into her consciousness. The voice that had just spoken sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d heard it.