Chapter Four
Rebecca stood in the front yard next to Audra underneath one of the most gorgeous Weeping Willow trees Rebecca had ever seen. The sun was just beginning to set. A comfortable breeze was blowing through the air, and the conversation she was having with Audra made for a nice change compared to what she'd been dealing with for far too long. The two were talking about everything to her early marriage to the current situation that Rebecca found herself in.
"You need to take into consideration where I'm from, Audra. I mean, I was born and raised in the hills of Kentucky, even if it doesn't sound like it." Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Heath's sister; who she was quickly growing to like. "For whatever reason that exists, as my husband and I traveled, I picked up on the different way people speak. I still say 'yer', 'ya' a lot and 'reckon', among others, just not as often as a lot of people would. My husband, may he rest in peace, spoke with the thickest Kentucky accent ya'll ever hear." She quit talking and fought the tears that wanted to come. She couldn't help but smile when Audra put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm fine."
Like the rest of the family, Audra couldn't help wonder just young she'd gotten married at. Unlike her mother and brothers, Audra actually had the courage to ask. "You seem pretty young to be anyone's wife, let alone widow." Her new friend continued looking at the sunset for a few moments before she turned to Audra and started talking.
"Once again, Audra, you need to keep in mind the way I was raised and in what environment." Rebecca smiled as she got a faraway look in her eyes while they sparkled with memories that ran through her mind. "The day a girl has the 'way of women' come upon her she is considered a woman and thus eligible for marriage." Rebecca couldn't help but roar with laughter as a look of horror spread across Audra's face.
"It's not the worst thing to happen, Audra; maybe not the best, but it's not the worst either. Besides," Rebecca shrugged her shoulders, "I never said the girls married the exact same day. It's just that the young men start looking at them in the sense of finding themselves a wife. The average age for a girl to be married is around fifteen or sixteen. Believe it or not," Rebecca said as she smiled at the young woman next to her, "If you lived where I was born, you'd be considered an old maid, because you're nineteen and not married."
Audra shook her head in disbelief, though she had the strongest feeling her new friend was being very straight with her. "So, how old were you when you married, if I may ask."
Rebecca turned the palms of her hands up and answered, "Married at fifteen, birthed and buried a baby at sixteen and a widow at seventeen. How's that for a track record for a woman who's goin' on eighteen next month?" The moment she'd spoken the words, Rebecca wished she hadn't; Audra looked as if she was starting to feel sorry for her. "Don't go feelin' bad for me. Life is life. Hank treated me like a queen while he was here and, with him dyin' like he did, I'm sort of grateful I wasn't left with a child to raise by myself. If I had been, I wouldn't be in a position to fight to clear Hank's name." She sighed again and said softly, "I'm just tired. I simply want this nightmare to be over."
No sooner had she spoken the words than she, and, by the look on the pretty blonde's face, it appeared Audra also, got the most distinct feeling someone was not that far behind them. Since Rebecca knew the feeling all too well, she knew who it was and wasn't surprised when the same annoying voice that had bothered her for months on end spoke up from behind her. "It can be over. Just admit that your husband's alive and tell me where he's at!" Mr. Weaver snapped as he balled up his fists, though he kept his arms by side
Rebecca and Audra whirled around. Rebecca was shaking with anger as she, for what felt like the thousandth time, yelled, "I can't tell you that because I ain't lyin'! Hank's dead! Now get away from me!"
When Mr. Weaver took a step towards her, Audra stepped in front of Rebecca, glaring at their unwanted guest. She too laid into the man. "This is private property! I suggest you get off our land!"
An angry look appeared upon the man's face as he headed for Audra, with the intention of moving her out of his way, only to be stopped in his tracks when another voice spoke up from the entrance way to the home. "I wouldn't go any further, Mr. Weaver." Heath stepped into view with his pistol in his hand; Nick was right beside him with his drawn also. "We might not be able to convince you that Mr. Wilson is dead; however, we can order you away from Mrs. Wilson and off our land." While Heath was not yelling, his eyes were full of daggers and his voice was low and laced deliberately with a tone so loud, a deaf man would have sat up and listened. Even if he hadn't been, the look in Nick's eyes would have done it.
"Whatever she's told you, she's lying!" Weaver shouted back, though he did step away from the women. "Mr. Wilson is alive, and she knows where he's at! I'll leave, but I'll be around. I give you my word on that!"
By the time he was finished yelling, Mr. Weaver was on his horse. When Nick took a step towards the man, Mr. Weaver used the reins to turn his horse around and then spurred the horse forward and out of the gate. By the time he was out of sight, Heath was standing next to his sister and Rebecca.
"Are the two of you all right?" He looked from one woman to another as he asked, his blood boiling that Weaver had had the nerve to come onto their land with no motivation other than to harass Rebecca once again.
"I'm fine." Audra answered as Nick joined them.
Rebecca nodded when both men looked at her. "I'll be fine, only I'd rather go inside now. She headed for the house, along with Audra.
"That man won't give up." Heath said as he looked toward the direction Mr. Weaver had disappeared.
"Then I suggest we all get a good night sleep, especially, you, Jarrod and Mrs. Wilson. Don't want to miss seein' the sheriff tomorrow." Nick said as he turned on his heels and also headed for their home.
Heath lingered a few more minutes, just to make sure the annoying rodent, as Rebecca had referred to Mr. Weaver, didn't return. Well, didn't return that night anyway.