The Widows of Braxton County by Jess Mcconkey Page A

you.”
    “And until then,” Hannah sniffed, “Grace Rosenthal is with him. She’s as harsh as her daughter.”
    “Willie’s fine, Hannah. You mustn’t worry.”
    Hannah stood and crossed to Willie’s dresser. She picked up the music box that her sister, Ida, had sent him for Christmas and ran her hand over the smooth finish. Mindful of Sheriff Winter’s warning not to discuss the investigation, and with Abe Engel standing in the hallway guarding the door, Hannah lowered her voice.
    “What do you think about the men who Charles Walker,” she said, referring to the county attorney, “picked to serve on the jury?”
    Fannie shot a look over her shoulder at the door, then crossed to Hannah. “Harry Rosenthal will use it to show how important he is,” Fannie whispered, “but Martin and Walter Bauer will keep him in line. They’ll want to find the truth.”
    “I’ve already told them the truth,” Hannah cried.
    “Shh,” Fannie said, placing a finger on her lips, “Abe might hear you.”
    “But—”
    A knock on the door cut her off.
    “They’re ready for you now, Mrs. Krause,” Abe called from the hallway.
    Hannah carefully placed the music box back on the dresser, smoothed her skirt, and left the room.
    With the drapes and blinds drawn, the light in the dining room was subdued and shadows clung to the corners, but Hannah saw each of the men gathered around the table clearly. Martin, Walter, and Harry sat in a row with Dr. Morgan at the end. Martin and Walter both leaned forward with their arms resting on the table. Their faces wore the same somber and determined expression.
    Harry leaned back in his chair with arms folded over his large stomach. His expression was anything but somber. As he watched Hannah, his eyes glinted with skepticism and he appeared ready to dismiss whatever she had to say.
    Hannah looked down at her hands clutched tightly in her lap and prayed for this to be over.
    She looked up at Charles Walker, standing in front of her, and steeled herself for his questioning. Slowly and calmly, she repeated her movements of the previous night.
    Yes, they’d had supper, then Joseph and his father had spent the evening talking while she straightened the kitchen and prepared to do the baking. Yes, she’d retired to bed after Jacob. Yes, she’d gone to Willie’s room. No, she hadn’t noticed anything unusual on her way up the stairs. Yes, she’d spent time with Willie then returned to the kitchen. Yes, the back door had been open. No, nothing had been missing.
    “And it was at that time you discovered Mr. Krause?”
    “Yes.”
    “What happened next?”
    “I really don’t remember—I think I screamed, then Willie came running into the room.”
    The attorney picked up a sheaf of papers lying on the table and glanced at them. “Your stepson, Joseph Krause, testified that he found you sitting in the kitchen.”
    “Yes—yes,” Hannah stammered, trying to remember how she and Willie came to be in the kitchen. “I didn’t want Willie to see his father.”
    “After Joseph arrived, you sent Willie upstairs and Joseph for Sheriff Winter?”
    She nodded and inhaled deeply. Thank God this was about over.
    “Were you aware of Mr. Krause’s disagreement with Peter Ziegler?” he asked, catching her off guard.
    “Ah no.”
    “So you weren’t aware that Mr. Ziegler questioned your husband’s friendship with his widowed sister, Minnie Voigt?”
    “What!” Hannah’s mouth dropped in shock. “Are you implying—”
    “I’m not implying anything, Mrs. Krause,” he said hastily as he looked at the paper again. “Did you and Mr. Krause ever have disagreements?”
    A sudden movement from the far corner of the dining room caught Hannah’s attention as Reverend Green stepped out. Her attention darted to Charles Walker, then back to Reverend Green.
    “You didn’t answer my question, Mrs. Krause,” the county attorney insisted. “Did you and your husband have