The River Widow

by Ann Howard Creel

  Adah’s face had knotted, and her breath halted. “For sale? It can’t be for sale. I own at least part of it, and I haven’t agreed to sell it.”

  Adam Connor shifted his weight and stole a nervous glance at his wife. Then he looked back at Adah, and his voice lowered. “There must be a misunderstanding. Buck Branch done told us—”

  “Buck Branch doesn’t own this farm. He’s my father-in-law.”

  “Well, he told us he owns the place and he’s going to be selling it soon.”

  Adah’s forehead puckered. “But that’s not the case. The farm was my husband’s, and I lived here for three years with him and his daughter. This was our home.”

  Again, Adam Connor seemed uncomfortable but steady on his feet, meeting her gaze with a firm one of his own. “I’m sorry for all this confusion, ma’am, but I asked Buck Branch why he was the one doing the selling. I done known this place was your husband’s.” He glanced away and shook his head, then almost chuckled. “Ole Buck told me it was none of my business why he was doing the selling. Mumbled something about how he’d made things right. Then he showed me the deed. It looked new, and it sure as shootin’ said Buck Branch owns this place.”

  Adah reached a hand toward the porch railing to steady herself. Could this be true? Had Buck managed to get someone in the courts to let him have the farm? Had he bribed someone? There was no telling what the truth was, and it didn’t matter. Either way, obviously Buck had figured out a way to get the entire farm away from her.

  “Ma’am, do you need to sit down?” Adam Connor asked, his eyes swimming with concern.

  His wife handed the baby to her husband, came toward Adah, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her hands were ruddy, square, and solid, but gentle. “Bless your heart . . . ,” she said.

  Adah succumbed to the woman’s comforting touch; all the while her mind was a jumble of new knowledge and disbelief. “What you said about Buck . . .” Adah looked to Adam again. “Are you sure he told you he owned the farm?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. I’d heard the sad story of your husband’s death, and he told me he’s not quite ready to sell yet but was thinking he’d give it up soon. He invited us to come out here and take a look anytime.” He gestured toward the front door. “We’re ready to buy, but we’re waiting, like he asked. In the meantime, we been thinking about clearing things out a bit. Last time we talked to Buck, he told us he’d get rid of that ruint truck sitting here, and sure enough it’s gone.”

  Tight worry all over her face, Cora Connor finally removed her hand from Adah’s shoulder and looked deeper into Adah’s eyes. She asked quite gently, “I take it you didn’t know the farm is in Buck Branch’s name.”

  Adah’s brows drew together.

  “Well, if that don’t smart . . . ,” Adam said through a beleaguered sigh.

  Adah’s knees buckled as if she’d been struck.

  “Come now. Sit down,” urged Cora and tried to steer Adah to sit on the porch steps.

  But Adah couldn’t move. This was the last thing she’d been expecting. She’d expected to do some cleaning today and tell the Branches about it later that night, further cementing in their minds that she wasn’t interested in leaving these parts.

  Instead she’d come at just the right time to run into these people and learn something very valuable. “I’ll be alright,” she said automatically.

  “You don’t look so good. You look like you just seen a ghost,” said Cora.

  A ghost? Yes, of course, a ghost: the ghost of her husband sliding around the corners of this house and the edges of this land, angry and swift. Here he had lived, worked, killed, and died. His presence still hovered and flew wildly about, and now he must have been laughing, Adah thought. That old sinister laugh of his echoed in her head. Adah clenched her fists. What terrible pain!

  “I’ll be alright,” Adah said again and managed to pull in a ragged breath.

  Adam and Cora exchanged a knowing glance. When Cora turned her gaze back on Adah, she said, “You poor thing. I’m sure sorry about your husband, too. Worst flood any of us has ever seen. This sure ain’t been a good year for lots of folks . . .”

  Not a good year, indeed. Her head ignited with a hot white heat, and the sunlight took on a fantastical quality. It was a long moment before she could gather this new information together. She shook her head; she probably looked like a madwoman. In the next half second, she became queasy, as if she might faint.

  Adam said, “I can see you’re taking this hard. I’m sorry we had to be the ones that brung you such bad news.”

  The sun hung blindingly in the sky. Adah’s best memories of the farm came from her first summer there, when she had stayed out as the night came on, and it was so quiet she could hear the cows tear grass from the ground and then chew it. The air had smelled of greenery and pond water and earth. For a time, it had been beautiful. Over the years, she’d come to think of it as at least partly hers; it had meant something to her, something solid, despite it all.

  “Are you absolutely sure?” she asked again.

  Adam Connor solemnly nodded. “I know what he told me and what he showed me. Folks in town figured the farm belonged to your husband, and because of his death, it wouldn’t be sold for a long time. But Buck sure does hold the deed, and he’s almost ready to sell.”

  She put a hand to her throat. Searching out her voice, she said, “I’m so sorry to have bothered you . . . I just need to catch my breath for a moment, then I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry . . .”

  “No need to be sorry. And you take all the time you need, ma’am,” said Adam.

  “It’s no bother,” said Cora. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Adah nodded, laughed ridiculously, and then pressed her temples. The density inside her skull had grown. She let her hands fall; nothing was easing this explosion in her brain. But she managed to gaze around at the land that she now no longer held any claim to. Even though she’d planned to leave the farm behind, this news was a sure sign of Buck’s influence in the community.

  “I’ll be on my way now,” she said in little more than a whisper.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to rest a spell on these here porch steps?” asked Cora.

  Adah shook her head again. She took one step back.

  Adam Connor, his eyes still murky with surprise and worry, said solemnly, “We don’t want no trouble . . .”

  “There won’t be any trouble. At least not from me.”

  “Is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

  Adah glanced heavenward, then looked at the couple again. “There is one thing you can do, come to think of it. Please don’t say anything to Buck about my coming here.”

  “Sure thing.” Adam nodded. “We don’t aim to get caught up in no family fights.”

  She said, “There won’t be any fight. It’s done.”

  Adam nodded. “I’m sure sorry . . .”

  Blinking, Adah said, “I do hope you’ll be happy here.”

  “I have my doubts,” said Cora, stepping up to the top of the stairs. “Your husband got swept away here, didn’t he?”

  Adah nodded.

  Cora inclined her head to one side. “I’m thinking this place might be bad luck. But my husband here says it’s a bargain we can’t afford to pass up.” Adah registered the quaver in Cora’s voice.

  Adah looked at Adam as a warning bloomed to life in her mind. The deaths of two young people had occurred here already, and she worried about more to come. “Your wife is right. You won’t find happiness here even if people like me wish it for you. This place is bad luck, and you’re too nice a people to live here. Please take my word on this. Don’t buy it.”

  Now it was Adam Connor’s turn to pale. His eyes never faltered from Adah’s as his wife, her arms hanging at her sides, said ever so softly, “Thanks for telling us . . .”

  Adah took the remaining steps down onto ground that had turned out to have never been even partly hers. She closed her eyes and st
ood for a moment, breathing deeply, letting this new realization pump through her, the vessels in her head filling with hot blood and the weight of this. When had Buck gotten the deed changed? How long had he known that ownership of the farm would never be in question? Even though Adah had given up on fighting for it, it had still meant something to her.

  So why had they allowed her to stay once the deed had been changed? On any given day, they could have told her to leave. She wasn’t blood kin, and she had no home to go back to.

  And then there was Esther Heiser. She had confirmed for Adah that the Branches wanted to get her part of the farm for themselves. Did she know they’d managed to get it without Adah’s consent? Had she been instructed to hide the truth and make Adah believe she might still get part of it? Had she been a part of the plan, too?

  Adah walked off the farm as all of the invisible stars in the sky began falling from the heavens. She had no claim to the property now and probably hadn’t for some time. So why had the Branches made her believe otherwise, even referring to it as “your farm” and “your house”? Of course in the beginning, they had wanted her to stay around long enough to perhaps confess and also be nearby, should more evidence about Lester’s death surface. They’d always doubted her story about the night of the flood, but there hadn’t been much they could do about it in those early weeks. Lester’s body hadn’t even been found.

  Then the body was found, which convinced them even more of her guilt. But despite their influence and family history in the area, they hadn’t been able to manipulate the police into charging her with a crime. So the Branches had let loose Drucker on her, but what had he really accomplished? Sure, he had scared her, and she’d lost sleep over simply knowing he was out there and making threats. But he’d never taken her in for questioning, and she hadn’t heard anything more about the exhumation of Les’s body, either. Drucker hadn’t really done anything, and it appeared as though she was going to get away with murder.

  So, after getting all of the farm and failing to get her charged, why were the Branches still keeping her around? Why?

  Now that she’d spent so much more time with them, an obvious answer struck her squarely in the chest. The Branches held lifelong grudges for even the most minor disagreements. And they always got revenge for any perceived wrongs. Convinced as they were that she’d killed their son, they would never want Adah to simply walk away and start a new life. In that case, she would still be alive and free, and Les’s death would remained unavenged.

  Adah pulled in a deep aching breath. Over the time she’d been with the Branches, they’d learned a great deal more about her , too. They’d seen how much she loved Daisy and wanted to protect her. Had they seen that as her weakness and exploited it? Had some of the harshest treatment of Daisy been the slightest bit exaggerated? She filed through all the assorted memories of what seemed like excessive meanness toward Daisy that had gotten worse. They had kept up the pressure on Daisy while at the same time keeping Drucker pushing and prodding Adah.

  Why?

  Adah clutched her dress. Perhaps so she’d do exactly what she was planning to do.

  She remembered the day Jesse had trailed her and Daisy to town, and it hit her then that one of the Branches always kept close by whenever she and Daisy were together, especially when they were outside. Why, they’d even given her a chance at making a run for it on the night Mabel had made Daisy sleep in the barn. They could have been tempting her to make a hasty move. Daisy was already out of the house. And Adah had gone to her in the middle of the night and had thought of snatching Daisy up and making a run for it. And one of the Branches had been watching from the window.

  Oh, dear Lord, Adah thought as she stopped walking. The Branches had hatched an elaborate plan. They hadn’t succeeded in nailing Les’s death on her, but they’d seen an opportunity to catch her committing a different crime and make her pay. They had deliberately made life in their house as miserable as possible for both Daisy and her, knowing that the cruelty would spur Adah into action. They meant to avenge Lester’s death, would never let it go, and she had fallen into their trap. They had only to wait it out and bring her to her limits, and then call the police when she tried to escape with Daisy. Or they’d call Drucker. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine that they’d probably made arrangements with some ticket agents who were friends or had been bribed to report it immediately should she and Daisy ever appear at the train or bus station. And they’d had Esther Heiser providing information and assistance to them, whether she knew it or not. Adah had almost confessed her kidnapping idea to Esther. She had revealed too much. And what of Drucker? Had he come up with nothing to help the Branches, thereby making them more determined than ever to exact revenge on their own?

  All along she’d been playing into their hands, and she’d been right about one thing. There was too much risk for them in staging another accidental death on their property, just as she’d thought. So they’d come up with another plan. Everything they’d done over the last few months had been staged so that she would eventually kidnap Daisy. And get arrested and convicted for it. That—her life in prison—would amount to some justice in their view.

  Adah looked at the teeming fields around her awash in sunlight, the smell of grass and loam in the air, porcelain blue heavens above. A lovely day to bear witness to what she now knew had been waged against her.

  A war. One she’d probably never had any chance of winning, and she wasn’t winning. Jack had been right. She couldn’t fight the Branches. Instead she had been taking steady steps directly into the intricate ambush the Branches had set up. They knew she loved Daisy, that she would do anything for the girl, that she was Adah’s Achilles’ heel. They knew they could drive her to try kidnapping Daisy and then make sure she was caught.

  Only then did she realize she’d left the cleaning pail behind, along with all of her plans and dreams.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As she slowly walked onward, the realization of what she must do sank into her just as rainwater slowly seeped into the earth.

  She had to stop. She had to give up.

  Her chances of a successful escape had always been as far away as the sea.

  They had beaten her; they had won. They would have Daisy, and although the thought of it was so devastating Adah had to gulp hard to recapture her breath and blink away the little white lights swimming before her eyes, it was the truth. The Branches’ hatred of Adah and what she had been doing had made it harder on Daisy, the girl’s mistreatment carried out to extremes in order to make Adah feel compelled to snatch her away.

  The truth didn’t change the fact that the Branches were willing to commit acts of cruelty to get their way, even toward their own flesh and blood—an innocent child. But perhaps if Adah gave up, the Branches would stop being so harsh toward Daisy. What kind of people would sacrifice a little girl’s happiness in order to get revenge? Adah was still worried they would continue to hurt Daisy. But there was now a glimmer of hope that perhaps, with Adah out of the picture, they would grow to love her and treat her kindly. Or at least humanely.

  Adah knew nothing any longer, even who she was. She had traveled from one road to another in only an hour’s time. During all the years she had lived on her own, wandering around and setting up camp, then leaving and starting again, she had never felt lost. As long as a road led out of town or a river ran close by, she’d always had an exit. This feeling was entirely new to her. Running up against a wall she couldn’t climb or a river she couldn’t cross or a place she couldn’t escape was unthinkable. Giving up was something she’d never imagined doing, ever. But it was time. She had come to the edge, to the limit of her abilities.

  That night, she had to put on the bravest face possible and not look like the cornered and defeated animal she was. If the Branches knew she’d figured out their scheme and she wasn’t going to act on her plan, they might go ahead and stage another accident and take their chances it would pass muster again. One thing was
certain: had she gone through with it, she would have been caught. They had set her up and were onto her. And Adah’s imprisonment would only worsen Daisy’s chances of a happy life. If Adah stayed around and free, then perhaps she could still exert a positive influence on the girl, even from afar.

  She donned a confident mask as she got through the evening, suffering through a near-silent supper, the only conversation centering around the details of Jesse and Esther’s wedding, which would be held just after harvest.

  Only a few questions remained in Adah’s mind: Was Esther in on the plan, or was she an accidental partner who had worked to their advantage? Adah hadn’t completely confided her kidnapping plan to Esther. But it had been insinuated. Was that one of Esther’s purposes, to get Adah to talk? And had she told the Branches? Had she given them reason to believe their plan was working to perfection?

  And yet Esther had also sent Adah to Kate Johnson for letters that Adah was sure the Branches weren’t aware of and wouldn’t want her to have. Was Esther a participant in the Branch plan who decided to give Adah a bit of what she, too, had wanted, or was she simply another innocent pawn the Branches were playing?

  Her second big question: How much did Drucker know? Had his threats been empty all along and his taunting of her meant simply to scare her and spur her into enacting a hasty plan of kidnapping and escape? There had to be a reason he’d never arrested her. Maybe he was supposed to be a key player in catching her had she gone through with her kidnapping plan. How many police and sheriff’s officers might have been on the lookout for them had she tried to get away with Daisy?

  All along, the odds had been stacked against her; all along, she’d been fighting a losing battle.

  That night, she took Daisy to bed with her on the back porch again, and while the little girl slept, Adah stroked her hair and her back and stared into the darkness. She remembered sunny days riding the rails, trees shimmering in the wind, slow-moving waters, and nights made of stars. But tonight everything seemed black.