Page 41 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

M ASON ’ S ADVICE HAD BEEN SOUND AND WELL-MEANT . A NNABETH’S family life was none of Joseph’s business. Trying to interfere would only cause her, and himself, more trouble.

Joseph had tried to follow Mason’s counsel. He had even turned Annabeth’s handwritten will over to the family lawyer for safekeeping. His intentions had been good. But Annabeth had been in his thoughts day and might.

Whenever he’d gone to town, he’d watched for her and the children. But he’d failed to catch even a glimpse of them. Were they all right? Was Silas caring for his wife and family, or had he become the enemy?

Joseph had even driven the back road within sight of their farm.

From a distance, he’d seen nothing out of order.

He’d known better than to drive closer or even slow down in his red Model A, which could easily be seen and recognized.

But the urge to see and touch her, or at least to know she was safe, had never left him.

He was doing paperwork in the ranch office, thinking of taking a break, when the telephone rang. He answered the call at his desk. His heart lurched as he recognized Annabeth’s strained voice.

“Joseph? Is that you?”

“Yes. What’s wrong, Annabeth? Are you all right?”

“The doctor gave me your phone number.” Her voice quivered. “I’m in trouble, Joseph. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s all right. I’m here for you. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause on the line. “Silas is dead,” she said in a flat voice. “I killed him.”

Joseph forced himself to breathe past the tightness in his chest. “Are you all right? Where are you? What about your children?”

“I’m in the house. The children are in the car, out back where Silas left it. We’re safe, but we need help.”

“What about Silas?”

“He’s in the kitchen. I had to do it. He would have killed Lucas.” Her voice broke. “Lucas needs a doctor. I’ve never driven the car, but I could try.”

“No. I’ll be right there. Go to your children and wait for me.”

“Joseph—”

“We can talk when I get there. Don’t worry, I’m coming right now.”

He drove at breakneck speed over the back road, wheels flying over the bumps and ruts. The content of Annabeth’s phone call was still sinking in. He only knew one thing. Whatever she’d been forced to do, he would be there for her.

At first, he couldn’t see the old Model T.

But when he pulled around the house, it was there, in a corner of the yard, next to the blackened, caved-in remains of a potato cellar.

The children were in the back seat, the dog between them.

Annabeth was in the driver’s seat. As Joseph stepped out of his car, she flung open the door and ran to meet him.

He caught her close. She was pale with shock, her hands and clothes spattered with burn marks and blood. For a long moment, he held her. She quivered in his arms, shaking but not crying. Something told him she had passed beyond the point of tears.

“Get the children,” he said, releasing her. “We can talk in the car.”

They loaded Ellie, Lucas, and the dog into the back seat of the Model A.

The children were silent. They’d been through an ordeal that no child should suffer.

When Joseph saw the strips of dried blood on the back of Lucas’s shirt, the anger that rose in him was almost dizzying. Silas Mosby had deserved to die.

Annabeth told him her story as they drove to the Hunter Ranch, where Kristin was scheduled to be at home today. She spoke in a low, emotionless voice that the children couldn’t hear from the back seat. Joseph sensed that she might not be telling him everything, but he would let that go for now.

“How many people know about this?” he asked her.

“Just you—and Lucas. He was there. Ellie was in her room. I got her outside before she could see Silas’s body.”

“So my aunt doesn’t know yet?”

“No. I only asked her for your phone number. But of course, she’ll have to be told. And the sheriff as well. I can’t just leave Silas’s body in the house.”

“This might not be a good idea, but we could set the house on fire.”

“No!” Annabeth shook her head. “A fire to hide the crime, or even hiding the body, would only make me look worse in the eyes of the law. And Lucas knows the truth. He’s likely to be questioned. I would never ask him to lie for me.”

“It sounds as if you’ve thought this all out.”

“I had time while I was waiting for you. The sheriff will need to be told, even if it means I might be arrested and jailed.” She went silent for a moment, as if pondering the weight of her words. “Do you have the will I gave you?”

“My lawyer has it.”

“If I go to prison, Joseph, I want you to take my children. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“I’ll do everything I can.”

Joseph wanted to promise her. But the lawyer had warned him of roadblocks.

The will might not hold up in court. Even with Silas gone, his sister could claim the children.

Or they could be taken as wards of the state.

Whatever happened, he would look after their welfare and continue fighting in the courts for their custody.

But there was still a chance he could lose.

However, there was one thing he could do to strengthen his case. He thought about it as he drove through the gate of the Hunter ranch. It was the best possible solution—but would Annabeth agree to it?

Annabeth looked on as Kristin applied salve to the bleeding welts on Lucas’s back. The boy winced as the healing balm penetrated, but he was making an effort not to cry out.

“You’re a brave boy, Lucas,” the doctor said. “Your mother must be proud of you.”

“Yes, I’m very proud.” Annabeth meant every word, even though she hadn’t told anyone how truly brave her son was. Not even Joseph knew how Lucas had seized Silas’s bootlaces and caused him to stumble into the knife. That would forever remain her secret.

“Would you let me photograph Lucas’s back?” Kristin asked. “I’d also like to photograph your face, as well as your shoulder and the bruises on your arms before I work the joint into place. If the worst happens, the pictures could serve as evidence of the abuse the two of you suffered.”

“Yes, of course.” Annabeth understood. She had killed Silas to defend her son and herself. But without evidence, once the law got involved, she could be charged with murder. It was more important than ever that Joseph be allowed to keep her children safe.

Annabeth exposed her injuries to Kristin’s pocket Kodak. The pictures, and those of Lucas’s back, would have to be developed in Miles City. But if they could make a difference, she was more than willing to cooperate.

Ellie was with Joseph’s Aunt Britta, who lived close by on the ranch with her husband. She’d welcomed the little girl and her dog with open arms. Annabeth was overcome with gratitude for the kindness of Joseph’s relatives, who’d accepted her and her children without prejudice.

After working Annabeth’s dislocated shoulder back into its socket, Kris tin had found Lucas some clean clothes. Her own boys were close to his age, but she knew that Lucas was going to need some quiet time before making new friends.

“I have some spare clothes that should fit you, Annabeth,” Kristin said.

“I’ll get them for you. Then you’ll want some private time to shower and dress.

Joseph is outside with my husband. When you’re ready, we’ll have some lunch.

With all that’s happened, you mustn’t forget to take care of yourself. ”

Alone in the shower, with warm water streaming down her battered body, Annabeth forced herself to face what she’d done.

She had killed a man—her own husband. Whatever justice meted out to her, she would live with that truth forever.

But that couldn’t be allowed to matter. In the days ahead, nothing could be more important than the safety and welfare of her children.

As for Joseph, whom she had never stopped loving, he had promised to be here for her.

But she knew that didn’t mean forever. She was facing arrest, possibly prison, even hanging if the scales of justice swung that way.

And even if she were to be found innocent, she was already a branded woman.

The scandal would stain her for the rest of her days.

She wouldn’t saddle him with that shame.

For now, she needed Joseph. But the man she wanted could never be hers.

The clothes that Kristin had laid out in the guest room were simple in style but finer than anything Annabeth had ever worn. Wearing the pretty blue frock should have lifted her spirits. But one look at her bruised face in the mirror reminded her of who she was and what her lot was to be.

Never mind, Annabeth chided herself. These good people had opened their home to her and her children.

The least she could do was stop brooding and show her gratitude.

Tomorrow—or sooner if the children were settled—she would contact the sheriff, confess what she’d done, and prepare herself for the consequences.

In the meantime, she would make every effort to forget her troubles and be gracious.

After lacing on her old work shoes and fluffing out her damp hair, she squared her shoulders, took a breath, and walked down the hall to meet her hosts.

In the parlor, only one person was waiting to greet her. Joseph stood as she entered. “I checked on the children,” he said. “Ellie is playing dolls with Aunt Britta’s little girls. Lucas is sleeping. Freckles is keeping him company on the bed. Sit down, Annabeth. We need to talk.”

He motioned her to the couch. “Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting. “I mean something new.”

He took his seat beside her. “Nothing new. But you’re going to need a plan to get through this mess. Do you have one?”

She shrugged, determined to stand alone without involving him. “Here’s my plan,” she said. “As soon as I know my children are all right, I intend to call the sheriff. I’ll tell him the truth and take whatever justice is coming to me.”