Chapter Eleven
“What is this?” Marcus sneered. His eyes glared with fury as he held up Josie’s secret letter from Aunt Tia.
Josie gulped, thinking quickly and carefully about how to answer. With one slip up, history would repeat itself like the last three times. She had to be smart if she wanted this baby to live. Marcus may have taken her virtue and inheritance, but he wouldn’t take another unborn child’s life.
“Aunt Tia was asking me to visit,” Josie said in her meekly calm voice. “I thought you and I could go.”
Marcus stepped closer. The reek of alcohol still clung to his fetid breath. “I told you to cut ties with the old woman. Her mind isn’t sane enough to be in anyone’s company. She is an embarrassment, and I won’t have her ruin us.”
“Darling,” Josie said calmly, touching his forearm. “She’s my only relative. Shouldn’t we pay her a visit? I haven’t seen her since our wedding day. We wouldn’t want to offend my dear great aunt.”
Marcus jerked away and pointed in her face. “You’re a disgrace to this family to be writing to such a woman! You disobedient little wench! I should have an heir by now but you’re weak and pathetic!”
Josie tried to stay poised and calm her husband, but it was hard to help the man during his violent rages.
“I am sorry, sir,” she answered shakily, her eyes downcast. “I have tried my best.”
Marcus grabbed her hair and yanked it hard.
His scarred eye bore into hers with a glaring intensity that sent a shiver crawling down her spine.
“What shall I do with you, hm? You have disappointed me time and time again. I was promised four sons by now and you’ve given me weak ones, just like their mother. ”
He yanked harder. Josie cried out as pain seared across her scalp—like her hair was being torn from the roots.
His other hand moved to her throat; his fingers pinched her skin.
“If I kill you now, no one would care. You have no one. I can tell everyone it was an accident.” His smile grew more sinister.
“Or that you took your own life. Wouldn’t that be more believable? ”
“Please,” Josie croaked. “I’ll do better. Please . . . Let me go. You don’t mean that.”
Tears welled in Josie’s eyes. For seven years, she had never felt so low and breakable.
She was too feeble, and Marcus was right.
She failed him. Those beatings were to shape her into a more obedient wife, but she couldn’t survive his blows.
She couldn’t protect her babies in the past, but she’d try everything in her power to protect this one.
Josie struggled for air as Marcus’s grip tightened. His thumbs pressed hard and harder, forming two deep holes in her neck, blocking off her air supply. Her lungs stung, and she begged for air.
“Marcus, stop,” she wheezed, pushing against his chest.
Josie could stop it all by telling him the news, but she wouldn’t risk it. She wouldn’t dare let the beast know. He wouldn’t lay a finger on her child. It may have his blood, but it would never be his. She’d make sure of it.
With a sudden burst of determination, she reached for the vase of flowers sitting on the decorative table beside her.
She swung it as hard as she could against Marcus’s head.
The vase shattered, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the home.
Marcus let out a low growl, staggering backward.
He shifted from side to side, struggling to regain his balance.
For a brief moment, his eyes rolled back, and it seemed like time slowed as he lost his footing.
Josie screamed in horror as her husband fell helplessly down the staircase.
She couldn’t breathe. Fear jellied her legs. Gripping the staircase rail, she looked down as Marcus’s body laid still in a puddle of blood, spreading across the polished floor.
“What have I done?”
Josie sat up in her bed, gasping for air.
The sight of her lonely bedroom had never felt as relieving as it did in this moment.
Her bleary eyes wandered over to the cedar dresser, the vanity with its dusty mirror, and the crib in the corner.
Each modest piece of furniture was a stark contrast to the nightmarish master bedroom she once shared with Marcus.
Josie drew steady breaths in and exhaled steadily, clenching her fists in her lap.
Marcus was dead.
North Carolina was thousands of miles away.
Orange light leaked through the sheer green curtains, and the birds engaged in a chorus of summer songs.
Josie’s heart steadied as she stood from her bed, making her way to the window.
The sunrise reflected over the wheat stalks and the towering mountain peaks in the distance stood firm over them.
Opening the window, a gentle breeze whooshed in and kissed her face.
She closed her eyes, but images of Marcus and his grip around her throat entered her mind.
The hair at the back of her neck stood straight up as though he were watching her from behind.
She shut the windows and stepped away, her hand resting on her neck. He wouldn’t bother her again. No one knew where she was. She wouldn’t be hanged or imprisoned. Her child was safe.
Marcus was beyond wicked, but Josie never planned to kill him.
Maybe she dreamed it when he caused her pain, but never would she pursue it.
She planned to leave him and find sanctuary with Aunt Tia.
Marcus wasn’t supposed to find that letter.
He wasn’t supposed to be drinking that early in the evening.
Josie chewed her pale knuckles as the memory of his body falling helplessly down the staircase replayed in her mind, the thud of him hitting the hard ground echoing like a closing of steel doors, sealing off her consciousness.
Josie leaned over her empty washbasin and heaved.
She was free from Marcus but not from her past. It wouldn’t be long until a marshal came looking for her and shamed Travis’s sweet family.
Josie stared into the dusty mirror. She must keep her identity hidden.
She didn’t trust Travis quite yet. He seemed like an honorable man—especially covering up her being a mail-order bride—but he could still turn her in.
Josie shuddered at the thought, wrapping her arms around her form.
Would Travis really betray her? It would be a good way to get rid of her once he found out she was pregnant with another man’s child.
The perfect excuse to annul a marriage he obviously didn’t want.
Josie pulled a shawl over her nightdress and moved towards the doorway.
She needed coffee and fast. The day would be long but productive as a mother and wife now that the Lord’s Day was over.
Laundry needed to be washed and mended, the floors needed to be swept and scrubbed, and lunch and supper needed to be prepared.
When Josie made her way into the kitchen, she paused, noticing Aunt Polly standing over the stove.
“Good morning, Josie,” she said with a welcoming smile.
“Good morning,” Josie repeated, tightening the shawl around her.
Josie’s stomach rumbled at the scent of pancakes and bacon.
Her body was strangely fickle—nauseous one moment, ravenous the next.
Since she was eating for two, she’d have to be smart about her nutrition.
Food needed to be rationed in appropriate portions for the children and Travis, but Josie would need at least two helpings.
Lord forbid if she ate so much the children starved.
“Want some breakfast?”
Josie smiled, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “Yes, please. I’m famished.”
Aunt Polly giggled. “Well, good because I made a lot.”
Josie sat as Aunt Polly handed her a plate of three pancakes and two strips of bacon.
“Coffee?” Aunt Polly asked, holding up the pot.
“If you don’t mind.”
Aunt Polly poured a cup and handed it to Josie.
“Has Travis come by?” Josie asked, blowing over her coffee.
“About an hour ago.”
Josie thought over the night before. She didn’t expect to open her mouth and speak her mind—mostly because she had been trained not to—but Travis’s distant behavior pushed her too far.
Was Josie so bad that he had to sleep with the animals?
She understood his grief, but asking for a wife yet avoiding her and the children was too much.
Josie’s role was to mother them, but it was driving Travis away.
He needed an equal amount of time with his children. However, wasn’t that his problem?
“What time do the children head to school?” Josie asked.
Aunt Polly returned to the stove and stacked the extra pancakes onto an empty plate. “We don’t have a teacher nor a school.”
Josie’s eyes widened, setting her cup down on the table. “What?” It almost didn’t seem possible. With the number of children Josie saw in church, she figured there had to be one.
“We used the church house when Travis was younger, but it’s been hard to keep a teacher. It’s a difficult life in these parts, so the pay gets pretty steep. None of us can pull enough pennies for that. Our children don't have time for studying, especially us farm folk. Too many chores to be done.”
Josie set her coffee down again after taking a sip. “That’s terrible. The children deserve the right to an education.”
Aunt Polly pulled out a chair in front of Josie and settled herself in the seat.
“You can say that again. I’ve been teaching Jonas and Ivy basic arithmetic and spelling, but it has been too much with caring for Gideon and Lillian.
They need a steady hand and full attention from a true teacher, one who’ll give them the time and patience they deserve. ”