Page 111 of In These Hills

“There’s lard in the kitchen. On the bottom shelf.”

Josephine returned with it, worked a little between her fingers and gently coaxed it through the tangles. Slowly, one by one, the burrs loosened and slipped free.

“How did you learn to climb trees?” Bethie asked after a minute.

Maybe because Bethie was the one asking, Josephine hesitated only a heartbeat. “My brother taught me.”

“You have a brother?” Excitement tinged her voice.

“Yes . . . I did.”

Bethie’s head turned slightly.

“Todd died about two years ago.”

A long moment passed.

“How did he die?”

Unexpected emotion tightened Josephine’s throat. “He was trying to help someone, and he got hurt.”

Another pause.

“So he didn’t teach you about guns? Like Uncle Dodge taught Mama? And then me?”

“Our father and mother were pacifists. Do you know what that is?”

Bethie shook her head.

“A pacifist is someone who believes in avoiding all forms of violence, including war, and sometimes even self-defense. My father didn’t approve of guns, so he forbade my brother and me from learning about them.” She almost added that Todd had done it anyway, then quickly decided against it.

“Was he older or younger than you?”

“Older. By seven minutes.”

Bethie turned fully around, brow furrowed. “You were twins?”

Josephine nodded. “And Todd wasn’t just my brother. He was—” She looked away. “My best friend.”

“And you miss him.” Bethie’s voice went soft.

“Every. Single. Day.”

Bethie held her gaze then faced forward, but not before Josephine glimpsed the girl’s own grief in those beautiful blue eyes.

Josephine worked the last burr free, lathered Bethie’s hair once more, then rinsed it clean. “There. I think we got them all.” She ran a brush through to be sure, then towel dried Bethie’s hair.

“Maybe if your brother had had a gun . . .”

Bethie didn’t finish the sentence, but Josephine understood.

“Perhaps that would have made a difference, Bethie, but . . . I don’t know.”

The devastation surrounding Todd’s death replayed, and led, as it always did, back to Mayor Darden. Once men like him decided something, undoing it felt like holding back the tide. And though nothing had appeared in the newspapers yet, she could feel her time here wearing thin.

She held up the towel as Bethie stepped from the tub, then looked away to allow privacy.

“My nightgown’s hanging over there . . . please.”