The Heaviest Rock (An Ozark Mountain Series Book 3)

by Alan Black

  Grace looked around for LillieBeth. The young woman was talking with a group of people near her own age. Roy Turner, Pearl Wikoff, the Schmitt girls, and another young man she did not recognize who was holding onto Magnolia Schmitt’s hand as if Magnolia would get away.

  Another young man rode into the churchyard. She did not recognize the man. He rode a beautiful Percheron mare that looked as if she had a mixture of mustang. That would make a horse with exceptional size, exceptional strength, and exceptional stamina. The man did not look around, but rode up to the small knot of young people. His horse was not breathing hard, but it was obvious she had been ridden a long way in a short time by her dust and sweat covered hide.

  She wondered why the young man would be in such a rush to get to church. The spirit did not normally visit such excitement on the young. She saw the man lean down and to Fern Schmitt’s surprise he gave Fern a very public kiss on the cheek. Grace smiled; it was not the holy spirit boiling in the young man’s veins, but hot blood.

  The man may have kissed Fern first, but he first spoke to LillieBeth. Although, Grace was too far away to hear the man’s words, it was obvious he was contrite and embarrassed. She wondered if he too owed LillieBeth for tracking down the Braunawalls for some hurt they had laid at his door and if he was as embarrassed as she for letting this young slip of a thing do what should have been his duty.

  Three men riding non-descript mounts followed the big Percheron mare. Their horses had been ridden long but not overly hard, yet they had the look of horses in need of a long rest, deep grass and cool water. She did not recognize them either. That was odd since she knew most people within riding distance of the church whether they were church members or not. Today there were more newcomers than had come to church in a couple of months.

  Once inside the churchyard, the three men moved slowly and hesitantly as if they were unsure of their welcome. The older man gave his mount’s reins to one of the young men with him and walked toward Susanne, Clare Hazkit and her. He tipped his hat in Art Hazkit’s direction; however, he made a wide circuit around LillieBeth, as any prudent man would circle around a coiled rattlesnake.

  The man stopped in front of Susanne with his hat in his hand and said, “Miss Harbowe, we done all you ordered us to do so far. The county sheriff in Galena said we could go home for now.”

  Grace looked at Susanne. Ordered was a surprising word for anyone to use when speaking to Susanne Harbowe. The woman had never ordered anyone other than her students to do anything. Certainly she would never have the courage to order a grown man.

  The man continued. “We’re heading back down to Forsythe. We’ll cross the dam at Lake Taneycomo and head for home. I feel the need for spiritual help. We’d like to stay for services if you and Miss Hazkit wouldn’t be offended by our being here.” He glanced over his shoulder toward LillieBeth. It was obvious he did not want to approach the young woman.

  Grace looked at Susanne questioningly. Her friend gave her a quick glance, but did not introduce her to the man.

  “Mr. Joe Carver, this is God’s house. All are welcome.”

  “Thankee, thankee kindly.”

  Susanne placed a gentle hand on his arm and said, “Please come see me later.”

  Grace was baffled. She had never seen this man. Neither him nor the two men he rode with. They showed up with the man on the big Percheron, but that did not mean they were together. They may have just met on the road. All three men stood off by themselves. The man on the Percheron stood with the younger crowd, yet seemed to stand apart from them even when standing close. Grace also noticed that he seemed to avoid being near LillieBeth, just as Joe Carver had avoided the young woman.

  Susanne interrupted her thoughts with a question to Clare. “Please tell me something. I did not hear Art’s response to David’s question. Did he give him permission to come call?”

  Clare laughed. “Art said no, but Reverend James just stuck his tongue out at him and said he was coming anyway.”

  Grace wanted to laugh, but something about the man Susanne called Joe Carver intrigued her. “Should I know that man?” she asked.

  Susanne shook her head. It was not a ‘no’ in answer to her question. Grace recognized it as one of Susanne’s no’s meaning she did not want to answer. Grace did not say anything more. She just waited, allowing her stare and size to intimidate her young friend.

  Finally, Susanne said, “His sons were part of the group of men who helped get Trance and Dangle free from Clayton. His sons and Steve Buckner, the young man standing with Fern Schmitt, were with the men dressed in Klan white.”

  Grace’s face grew tight and her fists clenched. “What are they doing here?”

  Susanne said, “They admitted they made a big mistake, but they had nothing to do with Clayton’s murder. They are trying to made amends and they are seeking forgiveness.”

  Grace said, “I am positive I am not ready to forgive them.”

  She tried to pull away, but Susanne held on tight, suddenly stronger. “Please Grace. I have not forgiven the Braunawalls nor should you, but these men are trying to make things right.”

  Grace nodded slowly and said. “I will hold their punishment for now. But, if I find out that they knowingly helped Trance and Dangle kill my Clayton, then they can seek forgiveness directly from God.” She would seek these men after services and hear them out. She would bury them at her husband’s feet if they did not measure up to her standard of contriteness. It would not be a lawful act and one that Clayton would not have agreed with, but her husband was gone and had no say in the matter.

  Susanne started to speak again, but Rail Howerbach’s approach interrupted her. “Sir?” Susanne asked.

  Howerbach looked embarrassed. He hemmed and hawed a bit. Grace knew he should be embarrassed. He was one of the school board members who had gone behind her Clayton’s back to fire Susanne from her teaching position. He was part of the trio who forced Susanne from her home.

  Howerbach said, “I guess you told everyone that you saw me… um… going into Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies in Oasis.”

  Grace almost laughed aloud. It was a surety she knew of his philandering ways, but Susanne had not said word one about it to her. The truth will out. Someone else other than Clayton saw him visiting wonton women.

  Susanne held up a hand trying to stop him, but he interrupted. “No,” he said. “I don’t blame you. The way I treated you, well… I just get what I deserve. I told Lottie the moment I got home where I had been and what I had done. I confessed I had strayed with women like that. She said she would forgive me, but… well… we are still trying to talk about it.”

  Clare said, “Mr. Howerbach, we should not be listening to this.” She tried to move away, but Susanne held her hand tightly.

  Grace agreed with Clare, but she made no move to leave. Rail Howerbach deserved all the embarrassment he had coming for the embarrassment he had heaped upon Susanne, not to mention the pain he caused Lottie.

  “No, you should hear. I promised Lottie I would work to make amends to her and to everyone I have hurt by my actions,” Howerbach said. “I was wrong and foolish. You see, Lottie seemed to lose interest in… well, being with me about a year ago. I know that it is no excuse, but a man has his needs. Rather than talk to Lottie, I sought such comforts where I should not have.”

  Susanne said, “Mrs. Howerbach lost interest in her duties about a year ago?”

  Grace remembered Susanne and LillieBeth Hazkit in her kitchen the day of Clayton’s funeral. LillieBeth had bluntly spoken of the Braunawalls, saying she had proof the two backwoods dogs had raped others besides Susanne. Mrs. Hollister argued with the two younger women, but Lottie Howerbach fled the kitchen. She had thought it was because the subject at hand was so repellant and not fit for decent women’s ears. She wondered now if she was wrong.

  Susanne turned to Mrs. Hazkit. “Clare, do you have that bundle of women’s things in your pocket?”

  Clare clasped her han
ds over her mouth in shock and said, “Oh, Heavenly Father, no!”

  Grace looked on in bewilderment. What bundle of women’s things? Why would Clare Hazkit carry a bundle of other women’s goods?

  Clare pulled her hand free from Susanne’s grasp, reaching into a pocket in her skirt; she pulled out a small package, untied the strings, and opened it up carefully.

  Susanne said, “Mr. Howerbach, please look at these things. Do you recognize any of them?”

  Howerbach shook his head. “No. Why should I recognize women’s baubles…wait. This button is made of mother of pearl and it is sewn to this bit of red cloth. Lottie had a dress with buttons like this. I always thought she looked pretty in it, but I haven’t seen it in a year. Where did you get this?”

  Clare said, “LillieBeth took this from Trance and Dangle Braunawall. These are things they stole from women they raped.”

  Grace made the connection right way. The Braunawalls raped Lottie Howerbach, just the way they raped Susanne Harbowe, just as LillieBeth Hazkit would have been except that old hermit Fletcher Hoffman had saved her, and just like Clare, who would have been raped in turn if not saved by her daughter LillieBeth.

  She tried to count the baubles in the small bundle. There were another eight or nine trinkets. She did not recognize any of the items, but the implications were obvious. The Braunawalls had been collecting trinkets as souvenirs from their victims. She noticed Susanne’s fingers flicker over the broach she wore.

  She wondered if Howerbach would understand. He was the kind of man who wanted each clause of a contract written out and spelled out completely in plain English. He was not thick headed, but he was slow to make leaps of insight.

  Susanne grabbed Howerback’s hand as his eyes finally lit up with comprehension. “Trust me, Rail. Lottie is hurting in her heart more than you can imagine. You must talk to her. You must talk long and hard. Make her talk to you. Love her, she needs you.”

  Howerbach said, “I am such a fool.” Tears streamed down his face. He turned and ran to his wife, wrapping her in his arms and crying like a baby regardless of who might be watching.

  Grace said, “Susanne, you and LillieBeth may have killed Dangle, but someday, somewhere and somehow, I am going to escort Trance Braunawall to his end.”

  SUNDAY - SERVICES

  Grace sat in her usual pew, second row back, middle of the bench, directly in front of the minister’s pulpit. She would have preferred to be closer, but the front row did not have anything between it and the minister. That was fine for at home when Clayton was practicing his sermons, but not now, not when she would rather try to focus on the words being preached instead of trying to keep her skirt from sliding up and showing her ankles.

  Somehow, the hard wooden bench with the high upright wooden back felt more uncomfortable than normal. It was as if she were missing something. It dawned on her that Clayton was missing. Every Sunday for years, he had sat next to her on this same bench or he stood up front for his duties as a lay minister. His body was a comfort when he sat next to her and his voice was a comfort when he preached.

  Missing Clayton made her feel hard and heavy. It was as if she had become as cold and unyielding as LillieBeth Hazkit’s granite heart. Try as she might, she was unable to soften her own heart to hear the service, prayers flew by without a believing thought in her head, songs flittered past without a joyful noise escaping her lips, and announcements sauntered along without any conscious plan to remember them. That was all unusual for Grace, as she took her relationship with God as seriously as she took her relationship with Clayton. She knew God would forgive her for her inattentiveness considering the circumstances, but no matter how she tried, she could not concentrate on the service and was having trouble forgiving herself for the lack of concentration.

  She wondered if she would ever feel right again. She knew God would not abandon her, but she could not help questioning her own life. Why did God allow the devil to take Clayton from her? What did she do wrong for God to let such things happen? What small thing had she neglected in her duties to the Almighty that He might give way to Old Scratch to poke his ugly head into her life?

  She tried to listen. Reverend James was a young minister and enjoyed his ministry. He was not like many other circuit preachers who had come by over the years. He was lively, active and passionate, not sour, tired nor boring. His service reflected his attitude. But, she barely took notice of the laughing and clapping going on around her. She wanted to be happy, but it was all too much and all too fast. She wanted to run from the church, but she was unable to move, trapped between neighbors and friends to both sides.

  Reverend James snapped open his big Bible with such a loud bang that Grace’s attention was called to the front again. He called for everyone to turn to Deuteronomy chapter thirty-two verse four. He grinned and stood silent waiting for everyone to flip open their Bibles to the appropriate place. He waited longer than most preachers.

  He said, “Old Deuteronomy isn’t as easy to find as Matthew, Mark, Luke or John. Why, my Bible falls open to John all by itself.”

  Grace flipped open her Bible without thinking about it. She did not have any problem turning to Deuteronomy, it was easier to find than Amos, Ezekiel, or the ever-elusive Nahum.

  James said, “I’ve been thinking about LillieBeth Hazkit’s friendship stones a lot this week. I’ve been thinking how those little stones were such wonderful examples of her friendship with the late Mr. Fletcher Hoffman. Those little stones, small as they may be, are hard and permanent, just as her friendship was with him. Those little stones are as hard and permanent as God in our lives.”

  He reached down at his feet and picked up a rock. It was large and heavy enough he had to use both hands. He set it on the pulpit with a thump. “I had to look long and hard to find this rock,” he chuckled.

  Most everyone laughed along with him. It was harder to avoid rocks in the Ozarks than it was to find them. Rocks in the Ozarks came in all sizes and colors. The only way to avoid seeing a rock with every glance was to close your eyes.

  Grace heard James in spite of herself. His voice called to her out of the fog wrapping her mind and the turmoil of her emotions. It was hard to pull her thoughts back to hear the preaching, but the words fought through the deep-set emotions of confusion, hurt and loss.

  James tapped the rock. “This rock is hard, solid and will remain so well beyond our lives and the lives of our great-great-grandchildren.” Then he tapped his big Bible. “Deuteronomy thirty-two verse four says ‘He is the Rock, His works is perfect, for all His ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is He.’ That is amazing, my friends. God is solid as a rock, as is His judgment and His truths.”

  He picked up the rock and held it high for all to see. “Our faith in our God should be as strong and permanent as this rock.” He stood holding the rock high over his head, not flinching or straining with the effort.

  “Miss Harbowe, since my hands are full at the moment, please stand and read Deuteronomy thirty-two verse twenty-nine.”

  Grace wanted to turn and watch Susanne, instead she turned the page in her Bible, her eyes searching for the correct scripture. The congregation was so quiet she could almost hear everyone’s eyeballs snapping to stare at the young woman.

  Susanne stood with a rustle of cloth. She cleared her throat and read, “Oh that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end.”

  “Thank you, Miss Harbowe. That would have been hard for me to read while I was holding this rock.” He set the rock back on the pulpit. “My friends, if everyone outside the walls of this church understood that God is like a rock; solid, strong and full of righteous judgment, they would give more consideration to their ‘latter end’. And what is their latter end?”

  He waited and listened to the silent church. He smiled, “Their latter end is God’s perfect truth and perfect judgment. We have lost a good friend in Clayton Grissom. He was a wise man an
d he knew of God’s latter end. God bless him.”

  Grace felt her eyes start to tear up. She clamped her teeth together in a determined effort not to cry. She heard a few quiet voices say ‘amen’. They were Methodists and not inclined to shouting or overly outward expressions while in church. Even a few amens was an indication of wild agreement.

  James continued, “This community also lost Daniel Glen Braunawall, or Dangle as most of you knew him. Dangle was not wise and considered not... ” He tapped the rock in emphasis, letting the words hang in the air. He continued, not looking down at his Bible, “Deuteronomy thirty-two verses thirty and thirty-one says, ‘How should one chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight, except their Rock had sold them, and the Lord had shut them up? For their rock is not as our Rock, even our enemies themselves being judges’.”

  He tapped the rock in front of him. “God is our Rock and our strength. I know Dangle Braunawall was not wise, being guilty of rape and twice of murder. However, Susanne Harbowe and LillieBeth Hazkit chased him. These two young and delicate women hunted down this evil man. And with God as their rock, he paid with his life. By most accounts, neither of these women had to so much as put a finger on him for Daniel Glen Braunawall to meet his latter end. This is indeed how one can chase a thousand.”

  A louder amen rang out from the congregation.

  Grace could not help but to look back at her young friends. She could tell every eye in the church was on either Susanne Harbowe or LillieBeth Hazkit. Eventually every eye drew back to James. She felt ashamed, knowing her friends had taken it upon themselves to hunt down her husband’s killers. That hunt was her job just as Clayton had been her love.

  James said, “Now, God is not such a small rock as this little thing I have here. Trust me, this rock on the pulpit is heavy, but God is a huge, immovable rock with unimaginable weight. A rock we build the foundation of our lives on.” He looked out across the congregation, spotted the man he was looking for and nodded his greeting.