The Tradeswoman: A Story of Survival

By Christina Windhorst

About the Book
As a young Polish woman, Jozefa is married to a widower, Stefan, at the request of her family, though their marriage is met with coldness. After giving birth to two daughters, and caring for Stefan’s daughter, Hannah, Jozefa becomes acquainted with what being a wife and mother means. Though just as she has become comfortable in her daily duties, German forces storm into Poland and take over her family’s land and her husband’s factory. Now it is all Jozefa, Stefan, their children, and her parents can do to make sure the family survive a Nazi labor camp.
A story that tells of the trials and tribulations of one woman’s survival during World War II. After many years of suffering and sacrifices, Jozefa and her family will never be the same.

About the Author
Christina Windhorst is the child of immigrants, a former high school English teacher, married, and an animal lover.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Apr 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887295763

Book preview

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by Christina Windhorst

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Visit our website at www.dorrancebookstore.com

ISBN: 979-8-88729-076-8

eISBN: 979-8-88729-576-3

Dedication

This work is dedicated to all who survived and especially

to all who didn’t.

CHAPTER 1

Damienty, Poland

1935

The sun blazed across the golden fields of wheat as she rode the roan mare towards her village. Her long hair, the same color as the fields, windswept and tangled, was free from the blue ribbon her mother had tied it up with that morning. It was blindingly hot from the sun but the wind kept her cool. Jozefa knew as soon as she got home her mother would be livid. She didn’t care. The ride was worth it.

As the village came into view, Jozefa slowed the mare to a trot. The village—a stretch to call it that—was only a collection of farms that raised everything from eggs and chickens, like her parent’s farm, to hogs and other livestock for meats and dairy. There was a separate farm that grew fruits and vegetables, one grew potatoes, and another just corn. Each farm had several acres and was only accessible by its own road from the nearby town. Every day, except for Sundays, they would take the eggs and chickens to the main town for selling. Along with the others farmers, her family would bring the goods to the town early in the morning, before dawn, and return at dusk.  

She could hear her mother calling for her. The trot became a walk as she prolonged the inevitable browbeating she was in for. Sneaking out before church was never forgiven.

Jozefa reached the farmhouse and saw the one-horse carriage, black with gold lettering. Stefan would be waiting patiently; however, Mama would not be pleased.

Jozefa! In here now!

Yes, Mama.

Look at you, her mother whispered through clenched teeth. Go get cleaned up. Stefan has been waiting.

Yes, Mama. These were the only safe words.

Another cup of tea? She heard her mother politely ask as she went towards the room she shared with her two sisters.

Jozefa snuck a glance at the man in the kitchen. He was not tall; indeed, she was taller by at least two inches, but he was older by more than a few years. But, as her mother never failed to mention, he was an established factory owner, making bricks that would stand against the weather as the small village became a town. The bricks they produced would become the new buildings and homes within the town. His factory also employed half the town’s young men, and Stefan was well-respected in the community. Jozefa knew he would be a secure provider.

The marriage would help the family too. Her two older brothers would work in the factory while her younger brother and father worked their small farm. The money would ensure her family’s future would also be safe. What choice did she have?

She entered the dining area from the small kitchen wearing the robin’s egg blue dress her mother had sewn for her.  

Your eyes will shine wearing this color, her mother had told her.  

Jozefa knew a good amount of the household money from selling eggs and chickens had paid for the material. Her mother was an excellent seamstress and the dress, while modest, accentuated her maturing curves.  

The look on Stefan’s face was more than approving. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was, indeed, beautiful, her eyes the color of the dress, her golden hair, now brushed and shining was long past her shoulders, her skin glowing from the sun. She approached him gracefully and extended her hand.

Stefan bent and brushed a light kiss across her smooth knuckles. He looked up at her face holding her hand for just a few seconds. It’s good to see you again, Jozefa, he said.

And you also, she shyly replied in a whisper.

Ah, Stefan! her father bellowed as he entered the room from the side door and stomped the mud off his boots. I am looking forward to our conversation.

As am I, Marcyk. Let us take a walk by the stream.

They left the small kitchen by the same door Marcyk had come in, and Jozefa was left to bear the wrath of Mama. She waited, but Mama just nodded as a small smile came across her lips.

As you know, Marcyk, my wife is gone four years now. I am looking for a wife, and Hannah needs a mother. I’ve come to ask for Jozefa’s hand in marriage. She will be well provided for and I will be faithful to her. Do I have your consent?

Marcyk waited before answering. He didn’t say anything about loving her, Marcyk thought