Chapter 5 - The Widow Who Refused to Run
Eli's bed had not been slept in.
Clara knew because the blanket remained folded at the foot exactly as Ruth had left it.
His coat was missing.
So were Jacob's boots.
The receipt was gone.
Clara stood in the bedroom doorway while nine frightened children watched her.
Ruth whispered, “Did he leave us?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Eli would never leave you.”
That answer came without hesitation.
Ruth's face softened.
“Then where is he?”
Clara did not know.
But she had an idea.
Mercy Ridge.
Harlan Voss.
She sent Samuel Harper for Dr. Mercer and rode toward town alone.
The sun had barely risen.
When she reached Voss Land & Mercantile, the door was locked.
She pounded.
Nothing.
The bank next door opened at eight.
The general store owner saw her.
“Miss Whitmore?”
“Have you seen Eli Bennett?”
The man hesitated.
That was enough.
“When?”
“Maybe an hour ago.”
“With whom?”
“He was alone.”
“Where did he go?”
“Voss's office.”
Clara's heart hammered.
She turned toward the brick building.
The side door opened.
Eli stepped out.
Clara almost collapsed from relief.
Then she saw Voss behind him.
The boy held an envelope.
“Eli.”
He froze.
Voss smiled.
“Miss Whitmore.”
Clara crossed the road.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing it,” Eli said.
“Fixing what?”
“The debt.”
Clara looked at the envelope.
“What did you give him?”
“Nothing.”
Voss answered instead.
“We reached an agreement.”
Clara looked from man to boy.
“What agreement?”
Eli would not meet her eyes.
“I signed the north field over.”
For several seconds Clara heard nothing.
“You what?”
“It was mine too.”
“It belongs to all ten of you.”
“He said I could sign for them.”
Clara turned slowly toward Voss.
“You told a fourteen-year-old he could transfer property owned by nine other children?”
“I told him he could agree to support a petition.”
“That is not what he said.”
Voss spread his hands.
“Perhaps he misunderstood.”
Clara snatched the envelope from Eli.
Inside was a document.
Not a deed.
A statement supporting sale of the north acreage to satisfy debt.
Eli's signature appeared at the bottom.
“You cannot enforce this.”
“Perhaps not.”
Voss's expression hardened.
“But it demonstrates that Jacob's own eldest son recognizes the debt.”
Clara looked at Eli.
“Why?”
He finally looked at her.
“Because you were gonna fight him.”
“Yes.”
“And he would fight back.”
“Yes.”
“And then something could happen to you too.”
Clara understood.
The receipt.
“You took the receipt.”
Eli nodded.
“To give Voss?”
“To make him stop.”
Voss interrupted.
“The boy brought me nothing.”
Clara turned.
“He had it.”
“I don't know what you're discussing.”
Eli went pale.
Clara seized the front of Voss's desk with both hands.
“If you destroyed that receipt—”
“Careful.”
“You threatened a grieving child.”
“I offered him security.”
“You offered him fear.”
Voss stood.
“Miss Whitmore, go back to Boston.”
“No.”
“Those children are not yours.”
“No.”
“They never will be.”
Clara's voice became very quiet.
“You are beginning to sound as though you need that to be true.”
For the first time, Voss looked angry.
She took Eli home.
Neither spoke for half the journey.
Then Eli whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Clara kept her eyes on the road.
“I know.”
“I thought if I gave him the paper—”
“I know.”
“You're mad.”
“Yes.”
He looked wounded.
Clara continued.
“I am angry because you decided alone that sacrificing something belonging to your brothers and sisters was your responsibility.”
“I was protecting them.”
“No. You were behaving like a terrified fourteen-year-old.”
“I told you I'm not a kid.”
“Yes, you are.”
He looked away.
“And I am beginning to think your father hoped I would remind you.”
That silenced him.
At the farm, Judge Hollis waited.
Clara's stomach dropped.
Warren Pike stood beside him.
Dr. Mercer too.
The children filled the porch.
Clara climbed down.
Judge Amos Hollis was nearly seventy, thin as fence wire, with a white mustache and a gaze that seemed to measure everyone equally.
“Miss Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“I understand you found Jacob Bennett's will.”
Clara looked at Ruth.
The girl whispered, “I told Mrs. Harper.”
Good.
Clara handed him the document.
He read silently.
Then looked at her.
“Do you willingly accept the burden Jacob describes?”
Every child stopped breathing.
Clara could have said no.
She had no money.
No farm experience.
No legal connection.
Twenty-four hours earlier she would have asked for time.
Now she looked at Eli.
He had tried to save everyone because no adult had told him he did not have to.
She looked at Ruth.
Who slept beside Annie because she was terrified the baby might stop breathing.
At May, who had tried to resurrect her father with a red scarf.
At all of them.
“Yes.”
The judge watched her.
“You understand this would not immediately make you their legal guardian.”
“I understand.”
“You understand the estate is under foreclosure.”
“Yes.”
“You understand accepting temporary responsibility may expose you to debts related to household expenses.”
“Yes.”
“You understand raising ten children is—”
“Yes.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
“I hadn't finished.”
“I apologize.”
“No, you don't.”
“No.”
Mercer coughed to hide a laugh.
Judge Hollis looked toward the children.
“I will issue temporary custodial authority until the foreclosure hearing.”
Ruth covered her mouth.
May squealed.
Eli stared at Clara.
“But,” the judge continued, “the farm debt must still be resolved.”
Clara's happiness faded.
“I have evidence the debt is fraudulent.”
“What evidence?”
“A receipt for two hundred dollars.”
“Where?”
“Missing.”
Voss's name did not leave her mouth.
Not without proof.
The judge nodded.
“Find it.”
“How long?”
“Foreclosure hearing is Tuesday.”
Six days.
“And if I cannot?”
“The property is sold.”
“And the children?”
“If you have no home or means of support, custody would be reevaluated.”
Clara felt May's hand slip into hers.
“Understood.”
After the judge left, Dr. Mercer remained.
“You surprised him.”
“Who?”
“Hollis.”
“How?”
“Most people beg him.”
“I considered it.”
“You ordered him.”
Clara sighed.
“I may need to learn Kansas manners.”
“Please don't.”
She looked at him.
That smile again.
It irritated her less this time.
He handed her something.
A folded advertisement.
SEAMSTRESS WANTED FOR UNIFORMS.
“Where did you get this?”
“Railroad office.”
Clara read.
Twenty work shirts.
Repairs to eight conductor coats.
Curtains for the station office.
Payment: $42.
“When is it due?”
“Five days.”
She almost laughed.
“That is impossible.”
“Probably.”
“Why bring it?”
“Because I have noticed impossible things appear to irritate you into action.”
He was right.
By evening Clara had turned the kitchen into a sewing room.
Abigail Harper brought two machines.
Three women from nearby farms came to help.
Ruth knew basic stitching.
So did Nora.
Even Eli learned to sew buttons.
For the next three days, Bennett Farm became something it had not been since Jacob's wife died.
Busy.
Not desperately busy.
Purposefully busy.
The children carried fabric.
Men chopped wood.
Women cooked.
Dr. Mercer delivered supplies from town and claimed he happened to be passing by every time.
Clara did not believe him.
Neither did Abigail.
“You know he's courting you,” Abigail whispered.
“He is delivering thread.”
“In Kansas, that's practically a proposal.”
Clara nearly stabbed her finger with a needle.
“I traveled here to marry one man who died before I arrived. I am not discussing another.”
Abigail smiled.
“I didn't say marry him.”
“Good.”
“Yet.”
Clara threw a spool at her.
The children laughed.
It was the first full, unguarded laughter Clara had heard in the house.
For a moment, the debt disappeared.
Jacob disappeared.
Boston disappeared.
There was only a warm kitchen.
Ten children.
Fabric everywhere.
And laughter.
Then Samuel Harper entered carrying news from town.
His face was grim.
“What happened?”
“The railroad posted the final survey.”
Clara stood.
“And?”
“The spur goes across Bennett's north eighty.”
Silence.
Abigail whispered, “Then that land is worth a fortune.”
Samuel nodded.
“How much?”
“Maybe two thousand dollars. Maybe more.”
Clara sat slowly.
Harlan Voss was trying to seize an estate worth many times the claimed debt.
Now they knew why.
But Samuel had more.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The railroad agent says Jacob already negotiated an easement payment.”
Clara stared.
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“Where is the money?”
“No one knows.”
“Was it paid?”
Samuel nodded.
“Three days before the well collapsed.”
Clara's pulse quickened.
Jacob had received five hundred dollars.
He supposedly owed Voss less than three hundred.
Yet the children had been starving.
The money had vanished.
So had the receipt proving his debt was paid.
Clara looked at Eli.
And for the first time, she wondered whether the truth was not hidden somewhere in Mercy Ridge.
Perhaps Jacob had hidden it himself.
The question was where.
That night, May crawled into Clara's bed holding Jacob's red scarf.
“Can I sleep here?”
Clara lifted the blanket.
May climbed in.
Before falling asleep she whispered, “Papa used to hide important things where Mama could still see them.”
Clara turned.
“What does that mean?”
May's eyes were closing.
“In her garden.”
“What garden?”
But the child was already asleep.
Clara stared into the darkness.
Jacob's wife had been buried on the farm.
Beside the old apple tree.
May you like
And if May was right, Jacob Bennett's missing money might be waiting beneath the frozen ground.
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