Kate and Rose remained silent as Agnes stomped out of the room and didn’t speak until they heard her car go down the drive.
Rose arched an eyebrow. “Well, at least you didn’t say, ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.’ ”
Kate leaned against the counter and exhaled slowly. “I didn’t handle that well.”
“You sure did.”
“No, it’s going to be all over town that I kicked her out.”
Rose gave her a sneaky grin. “I’ve lived around here longer than Agnes, and I know how to play the gossip game. A few well-chosen words in the right ears and everyone’s going to be talking about her. Most people don’t take kindly to a person insulting a recently bereaved family. Not speaking ill of the dead still means something in these parts.”
They managed to convince Trudy to go the emergency room, where Doc Adams met up with them. The fact that Trudy hadn’t shot daggers at Rose on the way to the hospital only proved to Kate how confused she was.
As Kate sat waiting, her foot tapped a nervous rhythm on the polished floor. Rose touched her knee, quieting her.
“It’s okay, Kate.”
“I don’t like being here.”
“Too soon after Joe?”
She nodded and covered her face with her hands. “How am I going to get through this, Rose?”
“You just do,” she said putting an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “I’m not saying it’s easy, and you’re going to feel like you’ve shoveled a lot of crap before it’s done. But you’ll get through.”
Kate dropped her hands. “I’m not good at dealing with difficult situations.”
“Who said?”
“My grandmother,” Kate answered wryly. “She said I was helpless and hopeless.”
“Why?”
Kate shrugged. “I suppose it had something to do with the way I acted when my mother died.” She looked at a spot near the ceiling. “After Mom died, we were cleaning out the house we’d lived in and Gran was tossing everything she didn’t think she could sell at a garage sale, including the bear I’d had since I was a toddler.” Her gaze traveled back to Rose. “I pitched such a fit, she let me keep it. She said I cried more over that bear than I did my mother.”
“I imagine the bear represented security,” Rose responded quietly.
“Yeah, I guess. It was something I had left from my life with my mother.” Kate frowned. “When Mom died, I went all numb inside . . . just like I am now.”
“It’s shock, my dear.”
“I know, but back then Gran said my reaction was unnatural.”
“I thought you were learning to ignore what your grandmother said.”
“I’m trying, but it’s hard to overcome years of conditioning. It wasn’t just the way I acted when Mom died. No matter what I did for Gran, it was always wrong.”
Rose gave an indignant snort. “In her opinion. I bet she never complained when you made sure the utility bills were paid, did she?”
Kate’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “No.”
“I thought not. No offense intended, but the woman’s a fool—telling a teenager who’d just lost her mother that she’s unnatural.” Rose huffed. “Since I’ve known you, I’ve seen you make some hard decisions. Decisions that took courage.”
“I’m not courageous.”
“Yes, you are. You could have shut up. Let Trudy and Joe run your life, but you didn’t.”
Grief wrung her heart. “Maybe if I had, Joe wouldn’t have died.”
Rose grasped her arm and gave it a shake. “You wipe that thought out of your mind right now,” she scolded. “We don’t know what happened. That’s for the sheriff to figure out.”
“Two murders have happened on this farm,” Kate said in a low voice. “Do you think Trudy’s right? That history does repeat itself?”
Rose looked at Kate, her expression deadly serious. “I hope not.”
Trudy’s diagnosis was a transient ischemic attack or mini stroke to the right hemisphere of her brain. Short-term memory loss, paranoia, and changes in Trudy’s behavior could be expected, but would eventually dissipate. Doc had assured Rose and Kate that it wasn’t as severe as a major stroke, but her attack might indicate one in her future. It was important that Trudy change her lifestyle—more exercise, less fat in her diet—and start taking a low dose of aspirin daily.
Once back at the farm, Trudy retired to her room while a steady stream of neighbors showed up bearing casseroles and Jell-O salads. Kate accepted their condolences and pretended to be brave. Many were sincere in their sympathy, but she caught the whispers and stares of others. Those so-called friends had come to ferret out the latest story and report it back to the gossip mill. Rose picked up on her growing tension and sent her outside.
Walking toward the apple orchard, Kate concentrated on relaxing the tight muscles in her shoulders and taking deep cleansing breaths. She stopped and leaned against one of the old trees as she replayed the afternoon of Joe’s death in her mind.
She thought about the envelope addressed to Ed Rodman. Should she have told Detective Shepherd about it? Then she remembered looking out the window during the storm and the figure she’d seen standing beneath one of these trees. She hadn’t mentioned that either.
Tilting her head up, she looked at the branches of the old tree. It had been a long time since these trees had borne fruit. They were barren—just like her life. No husband, no children, no parents. Loneliness pressed down on her. She’d spend the rest of her life mourning what might have been. The leaves above her gently rustled, and she felt a touch on her shoulder. Startled, she whirled away from the tree.
No one was there.
Goose pimples prickled her arms. Grasping her upper arms, she rubbed at her skin, trying to make them go away. She was as bad as Trudy.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Kate faced the house in time to see Doris crossing toward her.
When she reached Kate, Doris drew her into a big hug. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured in Kate’s ear.
“Thanks,” Kate replied, stepping out of Doris’s embrace.
“Do you know what happened?”
“No—we don’t even know when Joe’s body will be released.”
“They’ll catch the person who did this,” Doris said with a firm jerk of her head. “What can I do to help you?”
“Nothing . . . just be my friend. I have so many decisions to make that I don’t know where to start. I know nothing of Joe’s farming operation. I’m sure that there are bills to be paid, loans that might be coming due. The livestock has to be cared for. And the harvest?” Kate looked at Doris in panic. “What am I going to do about that? I don’t even know how to drive a tractor, much less Joe’s combine.”
“First of all, don’t worry about the livestock. Greg McCarthy down the road has volunteered to see to that. Second—I imagine Joe’s attorney and his CPA will be contacting you about the business.” Doris took a deep breath before she continued. “And last but not least, the harvest. Let Rose help you manage that. She’s been handling her own farm for sixty years and I’m sure she’ll find a way to get your crops in.”
“It’s all so overwhelming,” Kate said with dismay.
“Quit worrying about everything all at once. Take one step at a time and you’ll get through this.”
Kate hesitated for a moment. “Do you know Ed Rodman?”
“Everyone knows Ed. Why?”
“Is he a violent person?”
Doris raised her brow. “He’s a hothead, that’s for sure.” She studied Kate. “Do you think he’s involved in Joe’s death?”
“I witnessed a fight between him and Joe. It was heated, and for a minute, I thought it might come to blows.”
“Was it about the fence line?”
“Yeah. Joe was suing him.” Kate tugged on her lip. “I think Ed might have been at the farm on the day Joe was killed. I found a letter addressed to Ed laying on Joe’s desk.”
Doris
grabbed Kate’s arm. “You told the sheriff, right?”
“No.”
Doris looked dumbstruck for a moment. “Why the hell not?”
“I don’t know,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t want to make false accusations. And,” Kate added, running a hand through her hair, “stupidity, I guess. My brain felt scrambled the whole time they were questioning me.”
“Hey,” Rose called out from the porch, “are you ready for round two? Your grandmother’s in the parlor.”
With a groan, Kate rolled her eyes and started toward the house. Doris followed behind.
They proceeded through the house into the parlor where a woman Kate didn’t recognize sat stiffly on the couch—her grandmother, ensconced in one of the high-backed arm chairs. She reminded Kate of a queen waiting impatiently to receive her subjects. Upon spotting Kate, she shot to her feet and scurried toward her.
“My little girl,” she cried out and threw her arms around her, sobbing, burying her face in Kate’s shoulder.
Kate stood with her arms hanging stiffly at her sides and let her cry. When she’d determined that her grandmother had put on enough of a show, she drew back, disengaging her grandmother’s arms.
Her grandmother backed away a few steps and, after withdrawing a handkerchief from her pocket, began to mop her eyes.
“Gran,” Kate said brusquely, “it wasn’t necessary for you to come all this way.”
Her grandmother sniffed sharply. “Yes, it is—when my little girl is in trouble.”
Part of Kate felt like applauding at her grandmother’s performance. She’d been her grandmother’s burden, never her little girl. The woman didn’t have an empathetic bone in her body. Kate eyed the number of suitcases stacked at the end of the couch.
“I see you have your luggage. Why didn’t you drop it off at the motel?”
Her grandmother’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Kate, darling, at a time like this you need your family.” Her attention shifted as she scanned the parlor. “I’m staying here.”
Chapter 28
Fall 1890, the Krause homestead
Soft light from the house’s kerosene lamps cast shadows across the front porch. From where Joseph sat at the cabin’s rough-hewn table, he saw occasional indistinct forms pass by the windows. He’d been exiled from his own home by the bitch’s sister and her weak-kneed husband, and they’d turned him into nothing more than a hired man. Hell, even a hired man would be receiving better treatment than he was. Since they took over the house, he’d been forced to fix his own meals and do his own laundry. At least when Hannah was here, she waited on him.
Bitterness swamped him. Every day he sat in the courtroom, which seemed to be filled with women, and had to listen to Charles Walker yammer on about Hannah’s life with his pa. At first, the press had been against her, going so far as to brand her as unnatural, to comment on her sinister appearance and label her a troublemaker.
But Charles then made a tactical error. He allowed a witness to insinuate that Hannah had been connected to the Women’s Temperance Union and the National Women’s Suffrage Association. Suddenly the reports of the trial took on a subtle shift. Hannah became the victim instead of the attacker. The attitude was apparent in the courtroom, too. While Hannah’s fancy attorney twisted Reverend Green into knots over his lack of compassion toward Hannah and her marriage, several of the men on the jury shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Their attention never once roamed toward Hannah, who sat ramrod straight with her chin up. Later, he’d overheard people in the lobby praising Hannah for her courage.
Joseph slammed his hand on the table and rose, then crossed to the window. If Hannah was found innocent, she’d be in a position to control the farm. He knew she’d figured out that he lied about the will. He snorted. Pa acted like he intended on living forever. Joseph doubted the thought of death ever crossed his mind. Now he would pay the price for his father’s thoughtlessness.
Not fair! he wanted to scream. The land belonged to him; his mother’s money and blood had paid for the place, not Hannah’s. Pa had nothing until he married my mother.
Joseph’s mother was a lady, and not made for the harsh life with his father. She treasured her lovely things and even as a boy, Joseph hated seeing Hannah touch them. How many had Hannah destroyed with her careless and sloppy ways? He hated watching her neglect the home that had brought his mother such pride. All Hannah ever cared about was that squealing brat.
His nails bit into his palms. He had to do something and ran across the room, then climbed to the loft. The box he sought was in the corner, hidden under a blanket. He knelt and rummaged through it until he found what he sought.
Holding the battered case up to the light, he smiled. This would do the trick.
Chapter 29
Fall 2012, the Krause family farm
After three and a half days with her grandmother, Kate was ready to move back to Rose’s. The pick, pick, pick was driving her insane, and she felt all the progress she’d made in counseling slowly eroding. She had installed her grandmother in the small bedroom on the west side of the house and taken the back bedroom for herself. Too many memories haunted the bedroom she’d shared with Joe.
Topaz also shared Kate’s room and had the run of the house, much to her grandmother’s disapproval. The kitten seemed to sense Gran’s attitude and took delight in tormenting her. Her favorite game was stalk, pounce, and run, preferably when Gran least expected it. Ankles, arms, feet, shoulders, Gran’s head—nothing was out of bounds as far as the kitten was concerned; and the more Gran protested, the more the kitten pursued her. Watching their daily battles was the only thing that made Kate laugh.
Kate functioned, but grief never left her—it was there buried beneath the daily tasks. A snatch of a special song or the discovery of something Joe had carelessly left lying about would bring it raging to the surface. She caught herself absentmindedly thinking of things she wanted to tell him, only to have the realization that she’d never talk to him again flood her with pain.
Thank God for Rose. Once the body was finally released, she’d accompanied Kate and Trudy to the funeral home to make Joe’s final arrangements. The funeral was set for Monday at ten o’clock, followed by burial in the Krause family plot.
Now they sat at the dining room table with Larry Wood, Joe’s accountant, ready to go over Joe’s financials. His bony fingers carefully spread the documents over the table, and one by one, he handed them to Kate.
First he gave her the lists of debts, and as she read through them, her hands began to tremble. No wonder Joe was concerned. He owed over two million dollars: loans for operating costs, equipment, his new pickup, livestock purchases, all adding up to the staggering amount. Kate’s eyes widened when she caught sight of what he’d spent on his new combine. Two hundred thousand dollars. The tractor had cost almost as much.
Mr. Wood saw her expression of dismay. “I cautioned him about overextending, but Joe never bought something unless it was the newest and the best.” He paused and handed her another document. “These figures show his losses over the past couple of years. Quite a sum was lost not only speculating on hog futures, but also investing in high-risk stocks.”
Kate returned her attention to the first document. “Many of these loans are coming due by the end of the year,” she said breathlessly.
“Right. Joe had fallen behind on some of the payments, but was able to catch them up shortly after your marriage.”
Now she knew where her savings had gone.
He continued. “It was reaching the point where he might have had to liquidate some of his assets, like acreage, in order to meet these obligations.” He glanced quickly at Rose, then returned his attention to Kate. “It was his hope that the deal with David Turner and Turner Farms would prevent taking that step.”
“But that’s on hold, correct?” Kate asked.
“Yes.”
“Some of the land will have to be sold, then?”
Mr. Wood thumbed throu
gh another set of papers. “Joe’s attorney will be going over this with you, but Joe did have a will. I helped him set it up right before your marriage. He left the farm and all its assets to you and any offspring.” He handed her another document. “Then there’s the life insurance policy. He had it for a number of years, but changed it to name you as the beneficiary.” He smiled condescendingly. “If you so choose, you may use it to pay off the debts and the farm can stay intact.”
Kate tapped her temple nervously as she studied the list of debts. “But he owes over two million,” she said in a subdued voice.
He flipped his hand toward the paper. “The policy is for four.”
Kate’s mouth dropped. “Four million?”
“Yes, and there’s another policy for five hundred thousand with Trudy as the beneficiary. He wanted to ensure that you were both secure financially.”
Kate’s brain was reeling, and she gripped Rose’s hand from beneath the table. “I can pay off the loans, keep the farm, and still have two million left over?”
“Right. As far as the assets, we’d have to do an inventory using current prices and depreciation, but based on this year’s appraisals, the land alone is worth eight.”
“Eight?”
“Eight million. Of course if you do decide to sell there’s capital gains, taxes, etc., to consider, but you’d still be comfortable financially.”
Standing, he gathered up the papers, put them in a large envelope, and handed it to Kate. “I’ll leave these with you. Take your time, study them. You don’t have to make any decisions right away, and if you have any questions, please call.”
Rose escorted Mr. Wood out, and when she returned, Kate was still standing there, looking down at the envelope. With a shake of her head, she tossed it onto the buffet and sank into a chair.
“Are you okay?” she asked, sitting across from Kate.
“I’m shocked. I had no idea that farming took this kind of money.”
“It’s big business, sweetie,” Rose replied with a chuckle.
“And you’ve been handling this kind of stuff for sixty years?”
The Widows of Braxton County Page 17
