The Widows of Braxton County

by Jess McConkey

  As she hemmed and hawed on the witness stand, she saw the faces of the jury and those in the courtroom change. Gone were the twitters and the compassionate nods. Their eyes watched her with open hostility.

  It was a never-ending nightmare.

  “Hannah, there’s someone here to see you,” Sheriff Winter suddenly called from the now open door.

  Hannah groaned. She couldn’t bear facing Ida right now.

  She turned and was shocked to see Joseph follow the sheriff into the jail. Her body stiffened. “I don’t want to see him,” she said, giving them her back.

  “Oh, I think you do, Hannah,” Joseph said softly as he sauntered into the room.

  “Hannah?” Sheriff Winter called.

  Pivoting, Hannah nodded while a smug grin spread across Joseph’s face.

  “If you don’t mind, Sheriff,” Joseph said, “I’d like to speak to my stepmother alone.”

  The sheriff gave Hannah a questioning look, and she nodded again. Frowning, he grabbed the ring of keys and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

  “What do you want?” Hannah asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Joseph strolled over to her cell until he faced her through the bars. “Things didn’t go too well in court today, did they?”

  Hannah glowered at him without answering.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “In fact, I’d say the outcome is pretty iffy right now.”

  “I didn’t kill your father.”

  “Well, someone sure as hell did,” he exclaimed, grabbing the bars to her cell, “didn’t they?”

  Hannah dropped her arms and jerked back. “What do you want?” she asked in a weary voice.

  “The farm.”

  “It’s always about the land, isn’t it?” she asked, then gave a brittle laugh.

  His face flushed. “It’s all I have left,” he shot back as he withdrew a sheaf of papers from the inner pocket of his jacket. “You’re going to sign this quit-claim deed, giving me the farm.”

  “The estate isn’t settled.”

  “It doesn’t make a difference. Once it is, this deed will give it all to me.”

  “Not Willie’s share.”

  “You’re his guardian—it signs over his share, too.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Hannah watched with satisfaction as Joseph’s eyes widened in shock. “I signed over guardianship to Ida and Louis.”

  His lips twisted in a nasty sneer. “You think you’ve found a way out of this, don’t you?” He studied her carefully. “If you’re found guilty, which you will be after today, there’s nothing stopping me from taking your sister and her sissified husband into court and suing for custody . . .” He paused and let his words soak in. “I’m a member of this community and they’re nothing more than a couple of outsiders. Who do you think the judge is going to side with?”

  Hannah thought back to her time on the witness stand and the faces of her neighbors. They were against her now. Would those feelings spill over onto Ida and Louis? And would those feelings be enough to influence a judge?

  She walked to the window and saw Essie and her brothers playing in the yard. The peals of their laughter stabbed her heart. If Joseph ever got his hand on Willie, her son would never know laughter again. If she was found innocent, Ida and Louis would help her until she found a way to support herself and Willie. She wouldn’t like relying on their charity, but it was better than risking Willie’s happiness on the outcome of the trial.

  Her decision was made. “I’ll sign.”

  Joseph hurried over to the desk and grabbed a pen.

  “Wait,” Hannah called out. “Not tonight—tomorrow. That will give you enough time to draw up a second document stating that you will never . . . never,” she insisted, “fight Ida and Louis’s guardianship.”

  Shortly after Joseph had left in a huff, Nora brought in Hannah’s supper.

  “Nora, may I have a pen and a piece of paper?”

  “Of course,” she said, taking both from the desk and handing them to Hannah. “Are you writing a note to your son?”

  “No . . . to my sister,” she replied, sitting on the cot. “And when I’m finished, would you have Abe or your husband deliver it?” She glanced up at Nora and tried to hide the grief threatening to overcome her. “It’s important that she receives it tonight.”

  Hannah ignored Nora’s frown and tried to organize her words. This really was for the best, she thought as she began to write:

  My Dearest Sister,

  With heavy heart, I compose this missive. Today’s events have convinced me that this community is no longer safe for my son. I have done all that I can to protect him from the machinations of others, but fear for his future if he remains here.

  Therefore, I must most earnestly beg you to take my darling boy and return to your home. Only then will I feel at ease, once he is safely away from those who have no care for his interests.

  If you have ever loved me, dear sister, please do this last thing for me. And do not think that you are abandoning me in my time of need. No one could have asked for a better companion than the one I have always found in you. I know that although the distance between us will be great, I will always be in your thoughts and prayers as you are in mine.

  I am entrusting you with my most precious possession, my son, and I know you will not fail me.

  Ever, your loving sister,

  Hannah

  Chapter 37

  Hannah could barely stand attending the trial every day. The stares and the whispers had grown during Charles Walker’s summation, and even Andrew had watched her with angry eyes. The only blessing was that Joseph no longer sat with the spectators. He’d gotten what he wanted. Her only relief the past couple of days had been her conversations with Essie. At least the sheriff and his family hadn’t turned against her, but she saw the worry in Nora’s face each time she brought Hannah her meals or took a moment to visit. Andrew would present his closing argument tomorrow and then the ordeal would be over.

  And Willie was safe. She’d received the telegram from Ida yesterday. That knowledge had given her the strength to face her accusers.

  Now she waited impatiently to meet with Andrew. He said he had an important matter to discuss with her, and she prayed it wasn’t more bogus evidence.

  Finally he arrived, and Hannah was shocked to see him accompanied by Charles Walker. She waited silently until she’d been released from her cell, and the sheriff had left.

  After taking a seat at the desk, she looked up at both men.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Hannah,” Andrew began in a condescending voice, “Mr. Walker has a proposition that I believe has merit and I’d like you to hear him out.” He turned expectantly to Charles.

  Charles cleared his throat and, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders, studied her. “Mrs. Krause, the events of July second have torn this community apart, but I believe Andrew and I have come up with a solution to heal the rift.” His attention stole toward Andrew and he nodded for Charles to continue. “After much consideration and a lengthy discussion between myself, Andrew, and Judge Preston, we are dropping the charge of murder in the first degree—”

  Hannah’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Instead,” he went on, “Mr. Lubinus will enter a plea of ‘irresistible impulse.’ ”

  “In other words, I plead guilty even though I’m not?”

  Andrew and Charles exchanged a look. “Not really,” Andrew said smoothly, “it means that you weren’t in your right mind therefore not responsible for your actions.”

  Hannah shot to her feet, tipping over her chair. “In other words, say I lost my mind and killed Jacob?”

  “Now, Hannah, calm down,” Andrew said in a soothing voice. “Mr. Walker is being quite reasonable. There’s every chance that you’ll lose.”

  Hannah noticed that he didn’t mention it would also be his defeat.

  “This
whole sordid mess can be put behind us and—”

  “Don’t you mean buried?” she broke in.

  “Not at all,” he insisted. “Testimony has shown that Jacob had driven you to your breaking point. You had sought help and were refused. And in a fit of rage, or maybe as an act of self-defense, you killed him.” He lifted one shoulder. “The community will be much more comfortable and sympathetic to that scenario versus one in which you’re a cold-blooded killer.”

  “And we must make sure everyone is comfortable,” she said in a voice dripping with bitterness.

  Charles ignored her statement. “Are you really sure that isn’t what might have happened? Isn’t it possible that you suffered a blackout? After all, Joseph testified that you were acting strangely that night.”

  Unbelievable. “I had just found my husband murdered in his bed,” she cried. “How is one supposed to act under those circumstances?”

  “Hannah, think of your son,” Andrew said, trying a different approach. “Do you want him to grow up believing that his mother is a murderess?”

  “He knows I’m innocent.”

  “What about others? If you’re convicted, it will be a blot on your son’s entire life. When he’s of age, no self-respecting family would welcome his courtship of their daughter. No employer would consider his application. His life would be ruined.”

  “And if his mother was declared insane? That would be better?”

  Charles quickly jumped in. “Irresistible impulse only means a momentary loss of reason.”

  She eyed both men shrewdly. “And if I agree, I’d go free?”

  “Umm . . . well . . . not exactly,” Andrew began, but Charles cut him off.

  “What Andrew is trying to explain . . . You would have to be admitted to a hospital and evaluated by a doctor. It has to be ascertained that you’re not a danger to yourself or society, but,” he said quickly, “I’m sure if you were reasonable and cooperated, you’d be released in no time at all.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she looked first at Charles, then Andrew. They were lying. Hospital be damned—they were talking about an insane asylum. They were both unsure about what the verdict might be and were trying to save their reputations.

  Folding her hands at her waist, she kept her expression calm, belying the terror she felt inside. “No. I won’t do it. I’ll take my chances with the jury.”

  Both men stood simultaneously. Andrew went to the door and called for the sheriff.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Krause,” Charles said as he moved toward the door. “This visit was really just a courtesy. Mr. Lubinus as your attorney of record has already entered your plea.”

  Hannah’s knees gave way and she grabbed the desk for support.

  “Transportation to the Mt. Pleasant Asylum has already been arranged. You will leave later this evening.” He paused at the door. “If you do ever expect to be released, I suggest you try being more cooperative than you have today.”

  Numbly, Hannah allowed the sheriff to escort her back to her cell. Anger warred with terror. An insane asylum—she’d heard stories . . . suddenly the sound of voices coming from the open window cut through her misery.

  “I think that went well,” she heard Andrew say.

  Charles snorted. “No, it didn’t. If she continues to act this way, she’ll die in that asylum.”

  “Oh,” Andrew replied, disappointment evident in his voice. “I really thought that—”

  “Don’t worry about it, son,” Charles answered companionably, “you gave your client the best representation possible under the circumstances.”

  “But maybe it would have—”

  “Now, now, this isn’t the time for second thoughts,” Charles interjected. “What were you telling me about your plans to run for state representative? I do believe an old classmate of mine, Senator Baldwin, might be of assistance . . .” His voice trailed away as they moved from the window.

  Rage drove her to the cot. Sold out. If they couldn’t shut her up, they’d lock her up. She wouldn’t allow it. Willie was safe, so all she had to worry about was herself. She kicked at the bed. They thought to silence her, did they? She didn’t know how, but someday she’d beat them. She’d figure out a way to win. And before they carted her off, there was one score she could settle.

  She wasn’t sure if he’d come when she’d asked Sheriff Winter to send for him, but here he was, enjoying his last opportunity to gloat.

  “Good evening, Joseph,” she said calmly.

  “I don’t think it so good for you, Hannah,” he answered with a smirk. “Talk’s all over town that they’ve decided you’re crazy.”

  She allowed herself a slight grin. “There’s only one crazy person in this room, Joseph, and it isn’t me.”

  His face paled, but he replied with bravado. “I hope you enjoy life in the insane asylum.”

  Hannah moved slowly to the cell door, her eyes never leaving Joseph’s face. “Your father tried to break me for years and failed. I won’t be silenced, Joseph,” she said softly. “Someday, I’ll be free and then—”

  “Then what?” he blustered. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No,” she replied in an even voice. “It’s not necessary—” she paused. “I know what you did,” she continued in a whisper.

  “I didn’t have nothing to do with any of this,” he declared loudly.

  Her eyes glinted. “Oh, yes, you did. You’ve been working behind the scene the whole time, pulling strings. Where did you get the knives you used to frame me, Joseph? Did you order them from a catalog? The sheriff said one could still buy them.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do.”

  He puffed out his chest. “Say what you want—no one’s going to believe the talk of a crazy woman.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she replied with a shrug. “I guess you really don’t care. You got what you wanted.”

  “Damn right,” he cried, spittle flying from his lips.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. He looked away.

  “You have the farm now, but that’s all you’ll ever have,” she said in a strong voice. “Violence begets violence and your father was a violent man.” She studied him closely, gauging the effect of her words. “So are you. Oh, you’ll put on the façade of a successful man, but you’ll never know peace. You can never escape your heritage. It will haunt you and yours forever.”

  His eyes darted toward the door. “I don’t have to listen to this,” he said as he started backing away.

  “That’s right, Joseph, run. Run back to the land you wanted so desperately—but remember one thing. ‘The sins of the father . . .’ ”

  He bolted out the door with the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears.

  Chapter 38

  Fall 2012, the Braxton County Jail

  Sometime during the night, Kate’s fear shut off. It was the oddest sensation. She was aware of the danger she faced. Once the forensics lab finished their tests, there was a good chance she’d be arrested for Joe’s murder; and unless her attorney was able to convince the jury of her innocence, she would go to prison.

  Yet she felt clearheaded and detached.

  Sitting on her cot, she shook her head—amazed at the way she felt. Perhaps her mind and body could only take the rush of adrenaline that her fear had caused for a short period of time. Did Hannah experience this same feeling all those years ago?

  Shortly after Kate had finished her breakfast in her cell, one of the deputies came to escort her across the street to the courthouse. He handcuffed her and shackled her ankles. Once outside in the frosty morning air, Kate kept her head up and her attention focused straight ahead. She noticed the passersby out of the corner of her eye. She knew they were there watching, but she had no desire to meet their stares with one of her own.

  When they reached the courthouse, a man was waiting inside the door for them. With a nod to the deputy, he approached Kate.

/>   “Kate, I’m Darwin Brown. Rose Clement hired me to represent you. Do you agree?” he asked.

  Kate observed the man standing before her. He was dressed immaculately in a tailored suit and possessed a full head of snow white hair, worn a little longer in the back. He reminded her of a lion.

  “I trust Rose’s judgment, Mr. Brown,” she replied softly.

  “Good,” he said in a cultured voice. He glanced over to the deputy. “May I have a room to talk with my client?”

  Mr. Brown followed Kate and the deputy as he led them to a small room on the second floor.

  “Have a seat,” Mr. Brown said, motioning toward a conference table with chairs place around it. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay,” Kate replied briefly.

  “Rose filled me in on what has been happening as far as the investigation into your husband’s murder, but I’d like to hear it in your own words.”

  With a sigh, Kate told her story for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Mr. Brown took notes.

  When she finished, he tapped his pen on the table and read quickly over what he’d written.

  “Can you think of anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Right now all they have is an aggravated weapons charge. The minimum penalty for that is a fine of two hundred fifty dollars and probation. The maximum is one thousand five hundred and two years.”

  Kate’s breath caught.

  “I’m not very worried about that charge. But,” he stressed, “the county attorney is going to push to hold you until the DNA tests come back.”

  “How long?”

  “Well,” he said with a slight smile, “it doesn’t play out in real life like it does on television, so a week, maybe ten days.”

  Her heart thumped. “I’d have to stay in jail that long?”

  “Not if we can help it. They did get a search warrant and are executing it this morning.” He peeked at his watch. “Probably as we speak.”

  “Mr. Brown—”

  “Please,” he broke in, “call me Darwin.”

  “Darwin—you didn’t ask me if I’m innocent.”

  He smiled compassionately. “Rose thinks you are and that’s good enough for me.” He collected his notes and stood. “Ready? Let’s see if we can get you out of that ugly orange outfit.”