The River Widow(37)

Taken aback, she was eventually able to answer, “Of course I still want your help.”

“Then you have it.”

His change of heart touched her. She wasn’t as alone now. And with Manfred Drucker on her trail, she was even more in need of help, and a friend. “Thank you, Mr. Darby,” she managed to say.

He gave one nod of his head.

She finally breathed in. “What made you change your mind?”

“Nothing made me,” he said a little tersely. But the kindness in his eyes came back just as quickly. “I couldn’t get it off my mind. Figured the only way to do that was to tackle this thing.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been a . . .” Adah searched for the right words. Obviously her situation had been disconcerting to him, but she was thrilled it had worked in her favor. “A bother.”

“I didn’t say it was a bother. I just had to work it through a bit. I’ll take your letter to an attorney in town, if you really want that. No need to use the mail.”

Adah placed the basket down, took a step back, and stared down at her feet. The concern in his gaze had embarrassed her. “Well,” she said, “I thank you. Thank you so much. More than you know. I don’t have any money on me now.”

“I won’t take any money.”

Adah looked up. “But you do need some money to give to the attorney, right? Do you have someone in mind to talk to?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “And I don’t think he’ll be asking for money just yet. When he does, I’ll let you know.”

“Do you have some paper and a pen, so I can write a letter?”

He nodded and ushered her into the house.

Inside was a center hallway flanked on either side by a high-ceilinged dining room and living room. The white walls and wood floors were unadorned, and the furniture was simple and functional. Everything looked tidy and clean, but there was a fine drift of dust in the air. Plaid drapes on the windows had been opened, letting in bright wedges of light. All in all, it was a tight ship of a house.

He motioned her into the living room and pointed to a writing desk facing the two front windows.

She sat at the desk, took the stationery and pen he offered, then wrote a letter identifying herself and asking for information about a possible insurance policy, her rights to the land, and rights to Daisy.

Jack handed her an envelope, but she shook her head. “You might as well read it. You were right. I was a fool to ask for help and also not confide in the person I’m asking.”

She stood up. Adah was having a hard time meeting his firm, studious gaze. This was a crazy thing to do, to place her trust in a man she knew almost nothing about, and one who had already changed from refusing her to now wanting to help in only a few days’ time. But she couldn’t dismiss the feeling that a broad door was opening for her.

He read the letter and then handed it back ever so slowly. He looked disturbed. And yet there was something like sure knowledge emanating from this man. He knew things he would not say. What was in his eyes? Pity or promise or both?

“Leave it there on the desk, Mrs. Branch. I’ll take it to town tomorrow.”

Obviously he wasn’t going to give up on formalities and call her Adah, as she’d once asked. He walked her back outside, and she squinted up to the sky, where a single shaft of sunlight was searching its way through the firmament like a god leaning in with his luminescent arm.

He stood in front of her on the porch, and she thought he had something else to say, that he wasn’t quite through with her yet. She glanced at his face. The scar over his left eyebrow had turned from white to pink. Now that they had plans together, a sense of hope came to her. She made no move to leave or to hide.

He shook her hand, and the silence between them was filled by the wail of a distant train whistle.

With his right eyebrow lowering, he said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She thought for a moment; his question was, in a way, a warning. But he didn’t know how driven she was to succeed. “Yes.”

His gaze never left her face. “How much do you know about the Branches?”

The question took her by surprise. “I know a great deal. I’m living with them.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Is there something I should know?”

“You best sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chairs.

She did as he asked and then stared at the front lawn as he began to talk.

“Most of the time I make it a point to mind my own business, but I can’t help overhearing what people have been saying in town.”

Adah tried for patience. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Do you know anything about how your husband’s first wife died?”

Adah’s head jerked in Jack’s direction as her breath halted. She’d anticipated that this talk would be about Lester’s death or, if she was lucky, something about the Branches in general. This, this had never entered her mind. “Betsy?”

“Yes, Betsy Branch. I remember her. I remember when she died.”

“Why . . . yes. She fell off a horse.”

Jack locked his hands together in between his knees and leaned forward. “That was the story. But I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” she gasped.