THE PATH TO A PROMISE, CHAPTER 1

 

CHAPTER ONE 

Southwest Missouri Ozarks, 1908 

Olive Johnson waited on the grounds of the county courthouse to hear the verdict of the murder trial. At only twelve years old, Olive wished she had a camera to capture the raw tension, the flicker of fear in people's eyes, and the moment of hope turned to despair or relief. With a camera, her secret desire to be a newspaper reporter would come true. Like Nellie Bly, with fearless determination, Olive would travel the countryside, uncover the darkest secrets and expose the wickedness hidden in plain sight. But the money in the glass jar at home wasn’t enough to get the box camera at the mercantile in Rocky Corners.

An ancient oak tree’s green canopy rescued Olive from the hot July sun. Sweat beaded on her face and trickled down her back. Locusts and other insects droned on and on with their summer song. Summers in the Ozarks could be brutal, searing the fields with hot winds or pouring rains that left puddles deep and wide. Humidity ran high in this part of the region.

Laughter from the opposite corner of the lawn caught Olive’s attention. People leaned against the wooden fence encircling the foursquare brick courthouse. Some sat on the grass under the trees, fanning themselves with their hats or paper fans. All waited for the outcome of the trial. A few birds flitted through the trees, their chatter interrupting the solemn morning.

Olive’s gaze drifted toward the imposing courthouse doors, her mind racing about what unfolded inside. The trial had dragged on for over a year, each delay stretching the tension tighter until it felt ready to snap. Joe Tanner had shot her sister's husband, Dan Winters, in cold blood—at least, that's what many in town said. This was the second time the case had come to trial, and Olive prayed it would be the last; please, God, let this nightmare end. Her chest tightened, and she blinked back tears that stung the corners of her brown eyes. Today was reckoning day, and its weight bore down on her like a heavy stone.

Clara Mae, Olive’s two-year-old niece, lay curled up on a worn patchwork quilt beneath the shade of the sprawling oak tree. The little girl's chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep, oblivious to the turmoil surrounding her. A pang of sorrow tugged at Olive’s heart. Clara Mae would grow up without her father, no matter the trial's outcome today.

The memories of that fateful day played out in her mind, vivid and relentless. The quarrel between Dan and Joe Tanner had simmered for years, starting over something as simple as joining the local Farmer's Union. When Dan blackballed Tanner, citing his shady past, it was like pouring oil on a smoldering fire. The tension between the two men erupted into violence, ending with Tanner pulling the trigger and sending a bullet straight into Dan's chest. The image of Dan collapsing, blood spread across his shirt, sickened her.

Glancing at the sky, the sun was directly overhead. Time dragged on. Sweat tickled her ear, and she wiped it off with her embroidered hanky. Sitting up, she straightened her dress and leaned against the tree, watching her niece. Pushing Clara Mae’s hair away from her chubby face, grief swelled in Olive’s chest as she realized the child would never know her daddy.

Seconds later, the courthouse door swung wide. Men and women stormed onto the grassy lawn. The crowd was upset, their voices high-pitched. Arguments broke out with shouting and raised fists. Olive’s father appeared, his battered brown hat cocked on his head, parting the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. Her mother followed, and her brother Ben tagged behind. Bud Johnson’s long legs ate up the ground as he stopped before her. "It's over. Tanner's a free man!" His long, white mustache bobbed with the motion of chewing tobacco. Dark eyes blazed hot, and his mouth set in a grim line.  

Olive picked up Clara Mae as her mother gathered the blanket. Her heart accelerated when her father's words shocked her into disbelief. "Pa! No, it can't be!" Her eyes searched for her sister. “Where’s Lizzie?”

A small crowd of allies formed around Bud. Press Horton, Cole Lawson, John Haddock, and the Madison family gathered close to hear his words. "They had them fancy lawyers talking the witnesses in circles. Wouldn't even let most of the men testify!" Bud jabbed his hands into his overall pockets. His breath was muffled, and a sob escaped.

Olive turned to her brother, Ben. “Did you tell them what you know?” Ben had been with Tanner that morning, just hours before the shooting. The law had questioned him thoroughly and picked apart every detail of the day's events. They said Tanner had carried a gun with him, that he had intended to use it. But was it premeditated murder, or had things spiraled out of control?

Ben nodded. “I told them, but the Emerson boys lied about everything! I’ll bet somebody paid 'em to lie! The jury says it was self-defense.”

Clara Mae fussed, wiggling, and almost slid to the ground, but Olive held her tight. She sucked in a breath. "How could they decide that? Dan was shot in the chest, and he didn't have a gun!"

Ben’s face twisted into an ugly smirk; his eyes were wild. “Tanner’s daddy sold everything he has to get his sonny-boy off the hook.”

“That’s gossip,” Nancy Johnson accused. Her dark brows drew to a deep ‘V.’

Bud drew a quick breath. “That’s enough, Son.”

“You know it, as well as the whole county! Look around you.” He swiped his right arm wide and pointed to the crowd. “They ain’t upset for nothing, Pa. I’ll bet…”

Bud eyed his boy. “Enough.”

Press Horton comforted his old friend. “I’m sorry for all this trouble, Bud. I feel halfway responsible for the shooting in my store.”

Bud shook his silver-haired head. “Can’t feel bad, Press. It’s part of life.”

Charley Madison stepped around his brother; his cowboy hat precariously plopped on his head. Rattlesnake-skin boots peeped out from sheepskin chaps. A droopy mustache and spirit-filled eyes defined the man known for taking the law into his own hands in the past. “Tanner’s true self will get him someday. You can’t be that mean and get away with it forever.”

The other men agreed, their low murmurings sounding like a drone of bees gathering in a hive. Their anger would sting if provoked. Bud stood tall, staring ahead. “Soon as Lizzie gets out here, we’ll be gettin’ on home; I got logs to hew and rails to split.”

Olive blinked back, scalding tears as she marched to the wagon. The baby's weight was lost to the anger over the judge’s decree. Her poor sister! Lizzie, crippled with a bad back, was left a widow to raise a child on her own. The big farm and the blacksmith shop Dan had owned would be a hindrance to a woman alone. Grief covered her like the dirt over a coffin.

She took one last look at everyone on the courthouse lawn. Most were allies and friends of the two families involved. Today, their lives were changed forever. They would all find out just how much in the months ahead. 

***

Minutes later, the courthouse door burst open, and David Winters and his family hurried toward the Johnson family. Dan's brothers held Lizzie, guiding her along. They encircled her as if protecting her from the devil.

Lizzie’s long black dress, gloves, and boots signaled her widowhood. A black straw hat shielded her face from onlookers. Bringing a white hanky to her nose, she wiped it. Her lean body trembled and shook. “Oh, Pa!” moving to her father. She fell into his long-armed embrace. Her tears wet the front of his overalls while he stroked her head and rocked her gently.

Olive’s knees threatened to give way, and her head pounded. The heat and exhaustion from the day were getting to her. She held Clara Mae fast even though the child wiggled and fussed when she saw her mother. The child was almost out of her arms. One wiggle—

In an instant, Henry Winters caught the girl before she hit the ground. “There now, sissy!” He patted his niece’s back, then turned his attention to Olive. “You alright?"

Olive nodded and stared into Henry’s darkened blue eyes. His tanned face was inches from hers. She sensed his eagerness to help and serve. A swath of sleek black hair hung down his forehead. A black string tie circled the collar of his white shirt, and a navy vest hugged his trim waist. If he leaned any closer, their noses would collide.

Henry handed the child to her mother. Turning his attention back to Olive, he touched her shoulder. A smile tipped his mouth, and he stayed beside her.

Olive mopped her face with a hankie and thanked Henry. She needed to gather her wits. It was only half-past noon, but it had been a long day. She tried to concentrate on what the men were saying, but the nearness of Henry distracted her. The scent of leather and sunshine tickled her senses.

The Johnsons and the Winters were neighbors. When Daniel Winters married Lizzie Johnson, the two families grew closer. The neighboring farms helped one another with anything and everything. In good times and bad, neighbors were there to help in any way they could. That was the way of the people in the Ozarks.

Hiram Matthews appeared, focusing on the elder Winters man. Hiram’s long-sleeved white shirt was held tight by cross-back suspenders. A dressy Derby protected his head. He was a veteran newspaper reporter for the Pine Hills Herald. Pulling a stubby pencil from over his left ear, he poised it on a writing pad. “Mr. Winters, do you care to comment for the Herald on the outcome of this trial?”

Henry bristled. His hands clenched before his father could answer, and he leveled his gaze at the reporter. “Our daddy’s got no comments, Hiram, at least not anything fit for printing in a newspaper. Best be gettin' on.”

Hiram shoved his glasses farther up his thin nose and swallowed. Beads of sweat lined his forehead just below the brim of his brown wool hat. “It’s my job, you know…”

David Winters' voice was low and monotone. “We understand, Hiram, and we respect your desire to do your job. What's done is done. My Dan’s in heaven now. It’s best to let it be.”

“Nothing to say about the acquittal? Or to the Tanner family?” Hiram continued, pushing his luck, a wide grin rimming his mouth.

“Judge not, lest ye be judged is what the Good Book says.” It was David’s final answer as his mouth set in a determined line. Turning his back on the reporter, he spoke to Bud Johnson.

Bud shook hands with his long-time friend. “Guess you’ll still send the boys to Lizzie’s farm to help her? Or do I need to take her home with me?”

David’s cropped blonde hair glistened with sweat. His slim face grimaced, forcing his stylish goatee to bunch into a deep ‘V’. Sorrow-filled blue eyes blinked away tears before he answered. “There’s a problem, Bud. The boys complain that they can’t continue helping at Dan’s farm when they have their own farming and families. Tom will take up the slack of the blacksmithing, and I’ve been thinking about sending Henry in place of the others. He's got free time since he's not working.”

At David’s comment, Henry moved so close to Olive, he almost knocked her over. She wondered what he thought about it. It was the logical thing to do since Henry was the only child left at the farm who wasn’t married and had a family to support.

“I understand.” Bud nodded. “And I'll send Ben to help. Probably need to sell most of the cattle.”

After handshakes, one by one, the crowd dispersed. The Winters boys helped Lizzie and the baby to the family wagon. Henry followed Olive, helping her into the back of the wagon, his lips curved upward. His blue eyes pierced her chocolate ones. “Guess I’ll be going over regularly to help Lizzie. Are you staying with her?”

A warm blush crept up her neck as surprise settled on her face. She nodded. “I’m still there.”

Henry grinned at her and chuckled. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Her answer was barely audible, but it was ripe with wonder. Her heartbeat increased with the possibility of a change coming. His eyes were so blue, like ocean water! Why hadn’t she noticed that before? The ride home was quiet. The Tanner family was celebrating a victory while her family was defeated. Why in the world did the jury conclude that Tanner was innocent? He was a skunk! Worse than a skunk. His reputation told a lousy story.

Bible verses shot through her mind. The ones she learned in church about judging and gossip. The ones her mother spoke about often. People should not gossip about others or judge them. Was she guilty for holding hatred in her heart for that skunk? No matter, she would never change her mind about Joe Tanner! She secretly hoped for revenge against the man who caused such heartache!

Henry Winters invaded her thoughts again. She had never seen the ocean, but when she looked into his blue eyes, she felt like she was there. He was nine years older than her and didn't attend school anymore. She didn't think much about boys and girls liking each other beyond friendship. She always secretly dreamed about being another Nellie Bly.

Her face warmed as romance entertained her. She replayed how Henry's eyes lit up at their conversation and the lopsided grin that framed his mouth. Henry Winters captured her with his beautiful ocean-blue eyes.