The Heaviest Rock (An Ozark Mountain Series Book 3) Read online

  Dangle already went to face God’s judgment. She rehearsed his death over and over in her head and was more than a little unhappy she had not had a hand in his finish. She knew full well the Bible said in Romans 12:19 ‘Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath; for it is written, vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.’ She shook her head remembering clearly the scripture right before it in Romans 12:18 ‘If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.’ Peace was not within her. It was not possible. The Braunawalls had taken a place in her heart and they were holding tight, not giving her the ability to give wrath a resting place away from her heart. They claimed their corner of her heart and turned it hard and heavy as a rock. She would not be able to live peaceably with all men until the Braunawalls rested under the ground where they put her beloved Clayton.

  Grace was angry and at the same time supremely embarrassed. Waiting in the road had a two-fold purpose. Her friend Susanne Harbowe had been hurt by the same Braunawalls. Through no fault of her own the young schoolteacher was blamed and being shunned by this very church. Shunned or not, she knew Susanne would show up at God’s house on His day.

  Grace knew Susanne would not do so out of a stubborn streak, as the young woman was no more headstrong than the average hill folk or their mules. Susanne would come to church because she knew this would be where she would find God’s comfort, if not from his parishioners. Susanne would not know what else to do. Grace vowed to stand with her friend, lending her support and giving such comfort as she could in these uncertain times, regardless of what anyone else thought.

  The second reason for waiting in the road was to speak to Susanne and their young friend LillieBeth Hazkit. The actions of the two young women shamed her. A schoolteacher and a young woman barely older than a child hunted down two of her husband’s killers. It embarrassed her to know LillieBeth and Susanne did her job. She was not sure she believed the whole story about how Dangle and his cousin Ike died. In her mind, if nowhere else, the two women tracked and killed two of the men who murdered her husband.

  The wildfire-spread of gossip whispered the story of how Trance and Dangle were last seen in Oasis on Friday night. The tale grew from a murmur to a shotgun blast of scandal telling how Dangle was behind Samson’s brothel and how he knifed his cousin Ike in the back, then in a drunken stupor threw himself into the flooding White River to drown. The rumor also said LillieBeth Hazkit and Susanne Harbowe were in Oasis at the same time and both young women witnessed Dangle and Ike’s deaths.

  The tale was only days old, but the story had grown to tell how LillieBeth broke Ike’s neck with her bare hands, or how she held his head under the flood waters until he drowned. It also told how LillieBeth shot Dangle causing him to fall into the river, or how she bodily picked up a man twice her size and threw him into the river, barely missing the far bank. Gossip grew faster than a dandelion through a cow patty, here in the Ozarks.

  Grace was sure some of the men were already telling the story of how LillieBeth and Suzanne had gone into Samson’s, dragged Dangle and Ike off a pair of prostitutes and killed them in the street. Another version of the story had grown to tell how the two young women lured the men to the riverbank pretending to be women of loose morals. Either was a story unlikely to be shared between the women of Stone County, as even speaking of prostitutes was unladylike. However, she knew men well enough to know where this story would go.

  Grace doubted Susanne or LillieBeth would set foot inside a brothel. It was a place she only glanced at when no one was around. Still, she would brave the evils of such a place if it meant that was where she had to go to bring Trance Braunawall to his earthly justice.

  Grace believed there was more to the story than the back fence gossip made it out to be. There always was when the mountain grapevine was involved. She also believed there was less to the story than was being told out behind the barn. There always was with a good tale. The story came to her by way of Rail Howerbach. To her way of thinking, that was a guarantee the story was the truth, but not the whole truth. She needed to verify the truth from LillieBeth and Susanne, at least as far as the two young women would tell.

  Clayton had been her husband for many years, but he had also been a lay minister of their Methodist Church as well as the sheriff of Oasis, Missouri. He did not keep secrets from his wife. He spoke of his law work as readily as he spoke the word of God. As a dutiful Christian and a loyal wife, she shared the Bible with anyone who would listen, but she hid away in the back of her mind any and all tales of his sheriff’s work. To speak of what Clayton saw in town would be nothing more than spreading gossip that might do hurt to a friend or neighbor.

  Clayton had spoken to her more than once of seeing Rail Howerbach go into Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies. Rail often used Samson’s back door, but if the hour was late enough he would use the front door as bold as any single man. It must have been at the Oasis whorehouse where Rail saw the Braunawalls. At one time, Rail might have seen them at the saloon, but with prohibition in full legal stride, the saloon had been converted to a grill and coffee shop, not exactly a place she would expect polecats like the Braunawalls to haunt. She wondered where Rail saw Susanne and LillieBeth.

  More than once Grace wanted to share with Lottie Howerbach the stories of Rail going into Samson’s, but she held her tongue. It was not her business to butt into the Howerbach’s marriage. She suspected Lottie knew. How could a wife not know? The woman used to be jolly and outgoing until about a year ago. Rail had been visiting Samson’s brothel for about the same length of time. The pieces of the puzzle fit too neatly to be a coincidence.

  She did not trust Rail, not even in his capacity as a travelling hay broker. Any man who would cheat on his wife with cheap chippies would lie about the true cost of a straw bale. She and Clayton did business with Rail, both as sheriff and blacksmith. After all, he was a member of their church and community, but she still did not trust him.

  Grace owed both young women, the teacher and the girl, her support, her thanks and her love. That debt led her to sitting on Jezebel in the morning sun, with the peculiar combination of wet air and dry dust swirling around her as she waited for the Hazkit clan. It also felt curiously odd sitting next to a man of God that she did not want to hear from. She wanted to hear the Word of God, just not from him.

  The Hazkit’s mule cart rattled into view. They were followed closely by a young man, fifteen years old or so, riding along with them on a horse. She heard Mrs. Clare Hazkit say, “Well, look at this.”

  Elizabeth O’Brien Hazkit with her youthful twelve-year-old exuberance stood in the cart, grabbing her parent’s shoulders for support. Her grip on her father was light, as Art was only a short time removed from being wounded, his shoulder wrapped in thick white bandages. Susanne Harbowe popped into view following LillieBeth’s example, not daring to touch Art, but holding on to Clare more as an anchor than a support on the swaying cart.

  Grace glanced at the Right Reverend David James. He had a grim expression on his face. She swore if he said one wrong word to her friend Susanne, she would slap him out of the saddle, knocking him to the ground. Minister or not, she would not tolerate anyone being anything other than loving and forgiving to Susanne or LillieBeth. She owed them, both the young ex-schoolteacher and the young schoolgirl.

  Art Hazkit reined in the mules with his good arm, bringing the cart to a stop between the two Belgians. He was driving one handed, as he was like most men in thinking that driving a team was a man’s job, not fit for women. Any other day Grace would have laughed as the two Hazkit mules knew their way to church and back as well as any human. Art’s hand on the reins was hardly necessary.

  Clare Hazkit reached across the gap between the mule cart and Jezebel. She grabbed Grace’s hand. “God bless you, Grace Grissom. How is your heart?”

  Grace said, “Angry. Nevertheless, it is healing and will heal completely someday.”

  Clare said, “Time helps.
”

  Grace nodded in thanks, but disagreed, “Time has little to do with it. I will heal when the Braunawalls pay for what they did to Clayton.” She looked at LillieBeth and Susanne. “Rail Howerbach came by. He said that you two hunted down Dangle Braunawall and one of his cousins?”

  LillieBeth nodded. “We tried to take them into custody, but they died instead.”

  Grace said, “Mr. Howerbach said as much. He would not give me details, but he said it looked like Dangle killed Ike in a drunken brawl and then committed suicide by jumping in the White River to drown.”

  Susanne nodded and glanced at LillieBeth before speaking. “It was… something like that.”

  Art Hazkit glanced at his daughter with a sly grin. Grace had seen the look before, it was Art’s ‘I’ve got a secret’ look. He looked back at Grace and gestured towards his daughter with the tilt of a prideful head. It was obvious his daughter had given him the full details of the story and it wasn’t as simple as Rail Howerbach said. She was going to prod Art and the women further, but he changed the subject.

  Art asked, “So what are you two doing sitting out on the road like this? Taking up being highwaymen?” He directed the question to both, but it was obvious he was speaking to Reverend James. The two men knew each other in France during the war.

  Reverend James laughed lightly. “No. We were waiting for the Hazkits and Miss Harbowe. And I guess, you too, young man.” He spoke to the man on the horse. “You are Roy Turner? I met you last week after our services and at Mister Grissom’s funeral service. It is certainly good to see you again.”

  “Thank you for remembering me, Reverend,” Roy said.

  Grace looked at the young man. She remembered him, but couldn’t remember why she should remember. James’ comments helped her memory, though everything since Clayton’s murder seemed to be coming at her through a thick double-sided quilt of fog. Then it occurred to her. He was the grandson of old Mr. Turner down in the holler the next ridge over who raised chickens. Roy Turner had shown up for Clayton’s funeral and expressed his condolences. He seemed to be a polite young man, quiet and unobtrusive, but with a ready and infectious grin. At Clayton’s visitation during the day on Friday, he stood with the men and husbands, but not smoking cigars, telling off-color jokes or drinking coffee laced with moonshine. She remembered his confident demeanor even among men four times his age. He was solicitous, offering to help any way he could or at whatever she needed.

  She wondered why he was riding with the Hazkits. She hoped his motivation for standing with the Hazkits and Susanne was a match to hers. A show of strength and unity was necessary in such hard times. Susanne was being shunned by everyone except her and the Hazkits and all because Reverend James voiced his concern over her audacity in allowing herself to be raped by the Braunawalls. It cost her the schoolteacher’s job and her home at the Hollister’s farm. She would have been homeless, but Art and Clare Hazkit along with their daughter LillieBeth refused to rescind their friendship.

  Susanne looked back at Roy as he sat high on a beautiful quarter horse mare. “Did you find out why I was terminated from teaching school?” Susanne asked.

  Grace thought from the look on Susanne’s face it had been a question the woman had wanted to ask Roy all morning, but had not. She could understand not wanting to discuss a part of your past that was so horrible not only in the act itself; but with results so ruinous, it spoiled all chances of having a happy life. She was surprised when Roy laughed.

  “Yes, Miss Harbowe, I surely did. It must be big gossip around these parts. I gather everybody knew but me. Well, my grandpa and I didn’t know, but he doesn’t talk to anyone except me and the chicken buyer who comes up from Berryville, Arkansas. The story I heard does not worry me any little bit about you, nor should it worry anyone else. Although, I can see there should be more concern about letting those men run loose in the hills.” His face took on a frown, but with very little effort, he smiled again. “You know, I was mugged and beat up in an alley once in St. Louis. I sure didn’t do anything to deserve it and I did not ask in anyway to be beaten. I don’t imagine you asked for what happened either.”

  Art nodded in solid agreement with Roy. It was clear to Grace that Art was still taking a measure of the young man. She glanced from Turner to LillieBeth and then back to Turner. She concluded it might be a good match in a few years. Of course, LillieBeth was older than her years would indicate. The twelve-year-old girl had matured a good deal in the short two weeks since her decision to befriend the local crazy old hermit Fletcher Hoffman. Grace suddenly wondered if LillieBeth had truly matured or if it was her own perception of the young woman that had radically changed.

  Turner said, “I guess my reaction to the gossip clearly puts me on the Hazkit side of the fence, doesn’t it.” He smiled as if choosing sides in a close-knit community was an everyday occurrence and not the cause of rifts, division, and other evil works. She wondered if it was the normal thing to do in big cities like St. Louis or Jefferson City.

  LillieBeth said, “There is only one side of the fence. Ours. Everyone else is fenceless.”

  Grace stifled a smile. LillieBeth was young and confident beyond her years and certainly much more mature than her age would indicate. She helped her mother provide for the two of them while Art was off to war and even beyond when her father had been unable to find work near to home. Even so, mature or not, the young girl still had her youthful exuberance, excitement and enthusiasm.

  Reverend James said, clearly not speaking to just LillieBeth, but to everyone present, “Please don’t judge everyone too harshly, they are just confused. I ought to know. I was deeply confused myself, but no more. Come on, folks, we have a church to get to.”

  James led them across the churchyard and straight to the front steps. He handed the reins of his horse to the first passing boy and mounted high on the steps. Art handed his reins to Roy as they all climbed down from the mule cart.

  Roy slipped Jezebel’s reins from Grace’s hand without being asked and led the horses and cart away to the trees surrounding the bald knob where their little community church sat. She watched LillieBeth watching Roy until Reverend James called for their attention.

  James shouted, “Everyone listen to me, please!”

  Once again, Grace was surprised at his speaking voice. When talking to him one-on-one he sounded just like any other man out of Tennessee. But, when he spoke to a crowd his voice changed. He lost most of his Tennessee accent. The timbre and pitch of his voice dropped dramatically, becoming deeper, mellower, and more compelling. A reasonable person could not help but listen when he spoke.

  James continued speaking as the crowd grew larger with people from around the bald knob gathering to hear news and announcements. “I am here to publically admit I did wrong. I admit this wrong in public because my mistake was public. Miss Harbowe came to me in private and told me some local men had hurt her. She apologized to me and to God for any small part she might have played. God forgave her, as His word promises in the epistle of John, but I was stubborn and stiff-necked. I did not keep her secret as I am obliged to do as a minister and a man of honor. In breaking my word, I hurt Miss Harbowe and hurt every one of you by putting a rift in your tight community and between friends.”

  Grace looked over at Susanne. The young ex-schoolteacher looked down at the ground and blushed. Everyone was looking at her. Grace smiled in spite of herself. Susanne often confessed when among close friends that she did not like being the center of attention. That was a strange confession for a schoolteacher. Grace was not a bit shy, but she could see where standing in front of a group of school children would feel different than standing in front of a cluster of men and women.

  “Art Hazkit, you have taken Miss Harbowe under your protection, as is right. It was a godly and selfless act. I ask you now and in front of this whole congregation, may I have your permission to come to your place and court Susanne Harbowe with the intention of making her my wife? I do not ask thi
s out of contrition for my mistake, but because Miss Harbowe is beautiful, smart, I am fond of her beyond measure and I cannot help but want her in my life.”

  Grace whooped in excited surprise. She did not care what anyone else thought or even if Susanne would accept David James as a suitor. Even the offer was good for Susanne to hear. The young woman had been raped. To be fired from her job and shunned by her church, friends and neighbors was humiliating. Grace would have punched the school board if they had treated her that way. She might have done so anyway, except she had been pulled away by the death of her own husband. She still might when she settled things with Clayton’s killers.

  There were cheers and laughter at Reverend James’ question and Art Hazkit’s answer. She looked about her. Most people were more than willing to forgive all parties involved and move on together as a loving community. Even Rail Howerbach applauded, although his applause was overshadowed by Lottie Howerbach’s wild cheers.

  There were a few in the congregation who did not accept this outcome. The Hollister’s disapproval was evident on their faces. Regardless of those few, who literally and figuratively turned their backs on Susanne Harbowe and Reverend James, Grace rushed to Susanne’s side. It was a tie between her and Clare Hazkit as to who reached Susanne first. She readily gave her hand to Susanne to hold in support.

  The crowd melted slowly away, talking, laughing and, in most cases gossiping. She still held Susanne’s hand. She would not let go until Susanne pulled away. She wanted to fall to her knees asking for Susanne’s forgiveness for letting the schoolteacher go after Clayton’s killers. Susanne had assayed to take on Grace’s responsibilities even in the midst of her own tribulation.