Chapter 1
Amoset, Massachusetts,
"Where is that dratted kindling girl this morning?" Hannah Quinn, the proprietress of Quinn's boarding house for women, slammed back the door so hard that the four panes of rippled glass rattled in their frames. The kitchen help, Josephine and Annabele Fusset, groaned softly in unison and rolled their eyes. It was four in the morning. The malingering sun had nit yet shown its face, and, already. Hannah Quinn was in nasty mood.
For the past two and half years, the kindling girl had appeared on Mrs. Quinn's doorstep with faithful regularity. She always came before dawn bringing down a load of dry sticks from Cooper's Mountain so that the kitchen maids could light the fires. Without her, they all would be forced to make their own kindling, chopping long splinters of dry wood from the logs that lay around the common yard in back of the boarding houses. They were grateful for the kindling girl _Josephine and Annabele most of all. And yet no one had ever bothered to thank her for the service she provided, and her oats was never more than a few copper coins.
The women who owned the boarding houses along front street could not afford more, though many regarded the girl with pity. She was a funny faced child with blonde hair and a mouth and a nose too large for her other features. As she made her way along the darkened Street, the kindling girl walk with a terrible lamp that only accentuated the deformities of her emaciated body. Annabele in particular always wished that there was something she could do to relieve the girl misery and, whenever possible, the maid slipped her a slab of cornbread topped with a dollop of preserves. But there was always fear mixed with the gratitude in the girls eyes, as if the sweet morsel might be a gift of poison. When the kindling girl failed to appear this morning, Josephine, and Annabele, at Mrs. Quinn's command, set to work to chopping at the logs that were piled outside the kitchen door. With the sun beginning to show behind a scrim of early summer fog, the yard was a pleasant place to be and the girls were soon enjoying themselves, chattering gaily about the goings on in Amoset and sharing their sisterly secrets. From every corner of the common yard came the sounds of woodcutting.
"she didn't come to anyone today," observed Josephine, glancing around.
Drawing herself up, Annabelle look toward the gate where the girl usually entered. There was no sign of her
Who can blame her? Annabele shrugged. "She does work hard.
" Yet she always smile a bit. "
" Aye, but.....
The back door opened and Hannah Quinn squalled, that's enough chatter, Fusset, Annabel, you bring me something to get this stove going. Work bell rings in five and twenty minutes. Josephine....."
I'll fil up the woodbox ma'am"
Scooping up an arm load of sticks, Josephine crossed briskly to the woodbox. With both arms full, she needed her sister to help her open the heavy lid. But Annabele had vanished, chase inside by the scolding Hannah Quinn. With a sigh, Josephine shifted the weight of her load. Balancing on one broad foot. An undignified expanse of grimmy pantaloon and petticoat ruffles was displayed for an instant before Josephine lowered her egg, and ducking forward, brought her shoulderunder the lid to support it. She was halfway inside the box, the load of sticks still firmly grasped in her arms, before she saw the wide, open eyes staring up from the bottom of the woodbox.
Josephine screamed and drew back in horror, her whole body is trembling. The lid of the woodbox slammed shut with a sound like a riffle shot.
"Mrs Quinn,! Mrs Quinn! Mrs Quinn's!. Josephine burst into the kitchen still shrieking.
Hannah Quinn looked up in amazement. In Gods name girl. What frightened you this time? Don't tell me there's another snake back there! As the housemother reached for the broom by the door, Josephine wildy trembling hand stopped her, well what then?
It's her!
Who? Don't stand there spluttering all over me. Did you see a ghost? Josephine struggled to answer, then looked around. The other women who lived in Mrs,. Quinn's house drawn by Josephine shrill scream _had already begun to converge on the kitchen. They crowded around the doorway, curiosity written on their faces as they gazed at the hysterical kitchen girl. A young woman with a blonde hair pushed forward and gently took the arm of the frightened girl.
What happened, Josie? A look of blank terror met Lucy Shawn's innocent question. Obviously, it was more than a snake or a mouse in the woodbox that frightened the poor girl. As Josephine lips tried to form a response, Lucy had to lean forward to hear. The few words that she heard made her pale.
In the........ Woodbox?? Lucy drew back, her voice a whisper
What is it Lucy? What happened?? One of the girls demanded
No.... Oh, no....! And then she was gone, out of the backdoor and across the narrow space that separated the woodshed from the house. She could not look, and yet she had to. Her hand grasped the lid and at the last moment, she almost changed her mind but then gathering her courage, Lucy flung open the woodbox.
Oh, no she repeated, her voice a moan. She turned away, her hands covering her face as she stumbled across the yard. Her mouth opened wide but no screams would come. And then she was hurling past. Hannah Quinn, shoving her way through the crowd gatwhrd in the kitchen. Up three flights of stairs she raced without thinking, her feet flying, seeking the sanctuary of her room. Marie Leveroux, an older French Canadian woman who was Lucy's friend, called after her, but Lucy did not hear. Slamming the door behind her, she fell sobbing on the bed.
Now alone, in the topmost, silent room of the house, the shock was worse than ever Lucy could blot out the sight of the kindling girl. Thrown like a trash in the woodbox, arms askew,neck broken she lay in a pool of oozing blood. Lucy saw once again the fair blonde hair mates against the crushed forehead, black with gore
Lucy.May I come in? It was Marie
Oh, " Marie as her friend came into the room. Lucy tried to compose herself and failed utterly. Marie, did you see her? For a moment _it was as if I saw myself.... lying there"
Marie gazed at Lucy in astonishment. It was not like Lucy Shawn to break down in this way. Although scarcely eigtheen years old, Lucy had a reputation for being strong _willed and determined. But the young woman standing before her had no semblance of strength or determination. Lucy appeared completely shattered.
Did you know...... The kindling girl... She had blonde hair Lucy appeared to struggle with some thought, some image that nagged at her. When I use to see her. I only noticed how poor and tired she looked. But when I saw her in... in the woodbox. I saw she had hair like mine.
Lucy, please calm yourself, instinctively Marie stepped forward, touching the silver _blonde head that still trembled with emotion.
How can I? The other one _she was blonde - he killed her too.
Marie understood immediately. Lucy you mustn't think such thoughts. You mustn't
More than a year had passed since a young mill operative, returning at night from the lending library had been murdered in a dark alley in the Amoset. All who whispered of the crime knew that she had been raped. For months, the mill operative in Amoset _most of them young women between the ages of sixteen and twenty five had live in fear by being approach by any stranger. Now, none dared to go out alone on the street at night. The identity of the assailant had never been discovered.
Unconsiously Lucy her own fair hair. Rushing downstairs at the sound of Josephines shrill scream, she had been caught in the midst of dressing with her hair half_braided. Now the silver _blonde locks were a mass of tangles. She would have to begin all over again.
Marie smiled gently at this sign of returning vanity in her friend. I think it is only coincidence. Cherie a ie. As Marie look into tearful eyes Lucy stood more erect and offered the glimmer of a smile
"there, that's better," Marie continued. From the pocket of her gingham wrapper, she withdrew an old watch and glanced down at it, a frown creasing her forehead,. "I know you are troubled, Lucy but we must hurry or we will be late to work. McMahon will dock us.
Lucy nodded and tried to smile. But behind her smile, behind the glowing eyes that once sparkled with good humor - there was now the wisp of a persistent fear, a fear that clung to her like the silk of a morning fog. And gazing at her friend. Marie realize that those once clear eyes would never again be free of the ominous terror that clouded them now..
To be continued