Will was gone. With him went the last joy in my life. I was furious with him for leaving me. He was supposed to be with us for a great many more years. He was supposed to watch his children grow up, get married, and even have babies of their own.
I couldn’t cry. I was too angry, and too many responsibilities were hanging over my head. Leaving the bedroom, I found the twins sleeping in their old beds. I awoke them gently.
“He’s gone,” I whispered. “Y’all two best get up, and help me get him prepared before the little ones wake up. I’m gonna need to go on into town to talk to Reverend Patterson, and figure things out for his burial.”
Clearing the sleep from his eyes, Joseph grabbed my arm. “We’ve got it, Victoria. Take the truck into town and do what ya need to do. When Catherine wakes up, we’ll send her over to get Caroline and Olivia, and let them know. Maybe they can let Uncle Atticus and Aunt Veronica know. And Grampy and Granny Imogene.”
Imogene. I hadn’t seen her since the day Will tossed her out of our lives. She’d never even met our children.
“No. Not Granny Imogene.” I clenched my jaw. “Grampy’s fine, but I don’t want that woman in my home.”
“But, Victoria,” Daniel said. “She’s his mother. She’ll wanna know.”
“I s’pose she will, but she lost that right. Your daddy cut her out of his life years ago, and he wouldn’t want her here. Tell her she’s not welcome, or I’ll tell her. I’m not afraid of her like I once was, so I warn ya not to push me on this.”
“I’ll tell her,” Joseph said. “But she’s not gonna like it.”
“It’ll get ugly,” Daniel warned.
“That woman pulls anything, and she hasn’t seen ugly yet,” I replied.
I was angry at the world, and ready to pick a fight. Let that old woman come to my home, and I’d escort her out, picking up pieces of her rear end on the way.
IMOGENE NEVER CAME to view the body, but she showed up at the cemetery for Will’s funeral. I could keep her away from my home, but I couldn’t keep her away from the public cemetery, where we laid Will to rest.
I didn’t hear a single word Reverend Patterson said at the funeral. All I could hear were the sounds of anger buzzing in my ears. It consumed me. But I wasn’t just angry, I was furious. I was furious at Will for dying, but I was more furious at myself for allowing him into my heart so completely that his loss left an empty hole. I was angry for not learning my lesson the first time, when Mama and Daddy died. Once again, I swore I’d never let it happen again.
When the funeral ended, Daniel took my arm and led me out of the cemetery. I followed quietly—I didn’t have the emotional energy for much more.
Leaving the funeral, we were stalled by Will’s mother as we passed. Before now, my instinct might’ve been to rush by her as quickly as possible, but now I was so angry that I stopped when I realized she had something to say. I was edgier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. If Imogene started something, I would end it.
“Imogene?” I lifted an eyebrow. “You have somethin’ ya wanna say?”
Imogene sniffed as though inhaling something distasteful. “Expectin’ again, are ya? Can’t say I’m surprised; some things don’t change. Always said Will married ya for somethin’ more than your looks. I’m also not surprised to see that not a one of ’em looks like my boy, except that little one over there.” She pointed a claw-like finger at Ethan. “And even that one I’m not so sure.”
“Did ya come here to insult me again, Imogene?” I asked, deliberately using her given name. I wanted her to know I held no respect for her.
“Not at all. I just came to inform ya that I’ll be watching you. Don’t think for a minute ya can pass those bastards off as Will’s. They won’t inherit his land. I won’t have it.”
The buzzing in my ears was deafening. I clenched my fists until the nails on both hands left half-moon wounds on my palms. Pulling my arm back, I swung at Imogene with everything I had. My fist hit her square in the face with a resounding crack. Blood spurted from her nose as she fell to the ground.
Pain shot up my arm. I examined my fist—the skin on my knuckles was bloody and broken, presumably from grazing Imogene’s teeth on contact. Immense satisfaction enveloped me and, looking neither left nor right (and entirely missing the gasps of shock), I marched toward the car idling at the curb to take me home.
“Come along children, if you expect to get home,” I said. “I’ll not wait a single second for ya.”
PART THREE
1932-1934
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WILL’S DEATH BROUGHT WITH IT THE REALIZATION I had allowed myself to become weak. Though my body was strong from the hard work of being a farmer’s wife, my inside—my heart—was soft. I’d forgotten the cavernous empty of being alone. Always larger than life, Will had filled our lives with his presence. He’d seemed invincible and, because of that, I’d allowed him to take my worries and fight my battles. Even after the unexpected passing of my entire family, I’d never imagined Will could be taken from me. I had become complacent, and now I was completely unprepared for a life without him. I had failed myself, and I had failed our children. And, maybe worst of all, I’d failed Will. But I would not fail again. The world was no place for the weak, and I vowed I’d never be weak again.
In the weeks following Will’s death, I stopped worrying about others, and concentrated only on the children and myself. I now had five children depending upon me to keep them fed and clothed. That didn’t include the baby I was carrying. I felt entirely alone. Without Will, I was dependent upon Joseph and Daniel to work my part of the fields. I needed them; the farm was our survival. Will had set aside a small savings, but I would need to make it stretch. In the years of our marriage, I’d never concerned myself with finances. That had been Will’s domain. Now it was mine, and I was determined to carry on as well, or better, than any man.
Will had barely been gone a full month when Gene Blanchard drove out from El Reno for a “friendly visit.” Gene was our account manager at the bank and held the mortgage on our farm. Will’s father had given the farm to him free and clear some twenty years before, but Will took a loan against the farm and expanded planting the previous summer in hopes of a bumper crop. Instead, the rains stopped, and we were left with a significant decrease in production. At the same time, wheat prices plummeted, leaving us with dismally small proceeds. By the end of the last harvest, we were barely making ends meet. Paying Dr. Heusman’s bill, followed by Will’s burial fees, left me scrounging for money. If things continued as they were, we’d be destitute in no time. I cringed at the sight of Gene Blanchard. His visit was the last thing I needed.
“You kids stay in here,” I said, walking away from the window and toward the front door. “Catherine, put ’em to work doin’ somethin’. There’s plenty that needs done in this house. I’ll be back in a minute, and then y’all can come help me out in the barn.”
Opening the front door, I stepped out into the cool winter air of mid-December and waited for Gene to approach the house. As usual, the dogs were going crazy at this unknown visitor. In no mood for Gene’s visit, I did nothing to curtail their excitement. I hoped they’d shorten the length of his stay.
“Mornin’, Victoria. You’re lookin’ well,” Gene slammed his car door and sidestepped both dogs.
I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and I was less in the mood for Gene. On a good day, his presence was irritating. Today wasn’t a good day. Gene’s greasy hair and slick mustache did nothing toward improving it.
“Good mornin’, Gene. What brings ya out here?”
“Just thought I’d come out and pay a friendly visit. Invite me in?”
“I don’t think so. I’m busy, and it’s been a long day already. Best just tell me what’s on your mind.”
Gene frowned. “We’ve been friends a long time, Victoria. Why the cold shoulder?”
“We’ve never been friends, Gene. Now, d’ya need somethin’? I
have a lot to get done yet today.”
“Okay then.” Gene paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I’m here ’cause Will owed money to the bank when he passed on. Were ya aware of that?”
I nodded. “We’d talked about it some. He was plannin’ to pay it off with next summer’s crop. I believe y’all had an agreement.”
“Yes, of course.” Gene fiddled with the end of his mustache. “We did have an agreement. I just wanna be sure you’re aware of that agreement. The members of the bank are gettin’ a little antsy, what with Will’s death and all. They wanna make sure his bills’ll be paid now that he’s gone.”
“I’m not clear on why you’re here, Gene.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You had an agreement with Will that he’d pay off the remainder of the mortgage in what? August?”
Gene nodded.
“Then why’re ya here now?” I asked. “I don’t have time for these social calls if ya want the money repaid. It’s only mid-December. I believe that gives me a full seven or eight months left, at least.”
“Well, yes,” Gene said. “I s’pose I’m here to make sure ya have a plan in place.”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Gene. I have months left to get my affairs in order before I need to worry about you or the bank sniffin’ around for repayment. I’ll thank ya to remember that. Now, please do me a favor and drive slowly on your way out. That car of yours kicks up too much dust, and I can’t keep up with it as it is.”
“Okay, then, Victoria,” he said, reaching for the handle to open the car door. “Your attitude isn’t gonna help ya much if ya need a favor from me.”
“Goodbye, Gene,” I replied. “I’ll thank ya to not return before August.”
Gene settled into his seat and slammed the door closed. Backing away from the house, he ignored my request. His tires spun in the dirt drive, kicking up a cloud of red dust into the air as he drove away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SEVERAL NIGHTS LATER, LONG AFTER I’D tucked the children into bed, I sat at my kitchen table with Joseph and Daniel trying to figure out how to make ends meet while still paying back the bank. I ran the numbers over and over. We’d need a bigger crop than last year’s to pay back the bank, not to mention eat. If we didn’t get more rain—and if wheat prices didn’t stop dropping—I wasn’t sure how we’d make it.
“Joseph and I can work your fields along with our own,” Daniel said. “That’s what we’d’ve done if Daddy was still here. They’re all connected, so we’ll just make one big drop after harvest. We’ll sell the wheat together, then divide the proceeds based on the percentage of land we each have. Just like we did last year.”
“Can y’all two handle it by yourselves with what workers we have?” I asked.
“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Joseph shrugged. “We’ve lost Daddy, but Daniel and I’ve picked up a good piece of Daddy’s share the last couple of years. It’s doable.”
“What should I do? I can’t just sit here and do nothin’.”
“It’s not like you’re gonna be able to do a whole lot, what with that baby comin’ in March,” Daniel said. “Catherine’s worked the fields before. I doubt she’d mind pitchin’ in again, and Gracie’s gettin’ big enough to learn. Maybe we have Gracie follow Catherine for a bit. Jack’s big enough to help with the babies, so he can stay here with you. Make him pick up some of what Catherine and Grace’ve been doin’.”
“That might work,” I said. “What’s your gut tell ya on the crop this year?”
Joseph and Daniel shared a long look, a million words communicated silently between them in the way only twins seem able to do.
“It’s hard to say,” Daniel finally said. “If we have another drought like last year, we’re gonna be in trouble. We’re gonna need some rain, and a lot of it. Ain’t no way we can get through another year like last. We got lucky, we had some crop. The Beaumonts didn’t do nearly so well.”
“All right, then.” I nodded. “Y’all tell me what I need to do, and I’ll take care of my end. I’m thankful to ya both for stickin’ this out with me.”
“Ya know we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Joseph said, getting up from the table with Daniel. “We’re family.”
Tears gathered behind my eyes, but I refused to cry. Instead, I nodded. Family or not, I couldn’t rely on the boys forever.
LYING IN BED that night, my mind whirled. I missed Will, and I was worried about everything. How much longer would the money last? Would the next harvest finally bring that bumper crop? What options did I have for making money? I’d never before needed to worry about money. Now, it was the one thing I worried about most. Having money meant feeding the children. It meant keeping a roof over their heads.
Food. That was my first concern. How would we eat if the money ran out? Will had taught me to use a rifle and, though I wasn’t a crack shot by any stretch, I could usually hit my mark by the second or third shot. He’d also taught me to use a knife, then how to skin and clean animals. It was a messy job, and I hated it, but it was another tool to work with. So long as there was wild game, we wouldn’t starve. At least I hoped not.
As skilled as I was, Catherine was better. The younger children needed to learn, so I’d send Gracie and Jack out with Catherine to be taught. If nothing else, they could bring down some quail or hunt down a jackrabbit. Even just throwing a line into the creek and catching a couple of catfish would be meat on the table.
Satisfied I had a plan—feeble though it was—my mind shifted to Will. I missed him terribly, and I hated the new me. Will had brought out the good in me, but his loss made the ugly come out. Yet I refused to back down. A woman alone had to be strong. She had to teach her children to be strong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHRISTMAS OF 1932 WAS UNLIKE ANYTHING the children had ever experienced. With no money and Will’s recent death, there were few gifts and no joy. All of my happiness had been stripped away with Will’s death, and I had no energy left to pretend. If I’d had any remorse over not making the holidays festive for the children, I excused myself by remembering times were difficult. Allowing the children to become any softer than I’d already allowed would be an injustice to them. I needed them to be strong. So they couldn’t be coddled.
Anger was my constant companion. Caroline and Olivia stopped visiting, saying they didn’t like how hard and unyielding I’d become. Their judgment stung, but I squared my shoulders and moved forward. I couldn’t allow the criticism of others to compromise my goals. Surviving was my priority. Everything else came second.
Julianne, on the other hand, never judged. I knew she neither approved of, nor understood, my anger; but she remained my steadfast and only true friend. Joseph and Daniel never wavered in their devotion, but we’d begun arguing. Like their older sisters, they were concerned. I’d changed since Will’s death, and they were alarmed by it. Ever loyal, though, the boys stayed with me. They worked both fields and helped provide food for our table. They wouldn’t abandon me, or their younger siblings.
On a Thursday afternoon, not long after Will’s death, I was mucking stalls when a vehicle approached the house. It was nearly time to prepare dinner, so I was already aggravated at the intrusion. When I realized who was approaching, however, my anger reached a new level. Imogene was driving toward my home. I didn’t bother putting the pitchfork down. If necessary, I’d use it as weapon. I’d had enough of Imogene, and a feces-covered pitchfork was better than she deserved.
Stepping out of the barn, I walked quickly toward the oncoming vehicle. Imogene stopped the car some thirty yards from the house, and stepped out to greet me. Gray-haired and fat in the middle, she’d grown age lines across her forehead and between her brows.
“What d’ya want, Imogene?” I held the pitchfork tines-up with the handle digging into the dry earth near my feet.
“Victoria.” She nodded.
“So ya remember my name these days? Maybe somebody should’ve knocked some sense into y
a years before.”
Imogene stood there for long moments, just looking out across the prairie and then back toward my home. The silence stretched, and what little patience I had was wearing thin.
“Ya didn’t come out here to see me or to look at my land,” I prodded. “What d’ya need?”
Still not looking at me, she answered. “Walter’s sick. He’s not been doin’ well since Will’s funeral. He wants to see his grandchildren.”
“What grandchildren?” I laughed. “You made it clear you didn’t believe my children belonged to Will. You still have a relationship with the older kids. What d’ya want with my children?”
“Walter wants to see ’em.”
“I see.” Anger consumed me. Walter wanted to see my children, when he’d not come to see them once in the years since their births? Will had gone to see his father from time to time over the years, but Walter hadn’t once acknowledged my children as their grandfather. He also hadn’t apologized for his wife’s reprehensible behavior.
“I’d like ya to bring ’em over to the house,” she said.
I thought on this a moment, biting my tongue before the hate inside me spewed out onto the ground below. I lifted my chin in defiance. “No.”
Imogene narrowed her eyes. “What did ya say?”
“I said, no. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week. No. Never.”
“Well you ungrateful little—” Imogene took three steps toward me.
I moved the pitchfork so the tines pointed directly at her. Now only a few feet from me, if she advanced much further the tips would meet the fleshy part of her throat. “You take one more step, Imogene, and I’ll stab you through with this pitchfork. How dare ya come here and summon my children to your husband’s bedside? Ya both had your chance to be grandparents to my kids, and it passed when Will died. How dare you! You called my children—Will’s babies!—bastards in front of fifty neighbors and friends. Don’t you dare call me ungrateful! You should be grateful I only punched ya. You can be sure it would’ve been different if we’d not been surrounded by so many people.”
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