The River Widow(74)

“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 stood 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.