The Caged Graves (29 page)

Her father jumped off and offered her a hand down, and she smiled, remembering her first day in Catawissa when he had met her at the train station. Perhaps he remembered too, because after she was safely on the ground, he made a point of extending his arm, his lips curved in amusement. As Aunt Maryett had promised, it hadn't taken Verity long to reteach him his manners. Together they passed by the front door of the church and strolled into the cemetery.

The wall that separated her mother's grave from the rest had come down the day before, dismantled in a single afternoon by a handful of townspeople. Nate had been one of them. He promised Verity that the new wall would be finished before their wedding in the fall. Several members of the congregation had already pledged to contribute labor and materials. Some were men who'd done business with her father for years; others were families whose children had been delivered by Sarah Ann.

Setting aside any question about why these people hadn't defended her mother fifteen years ago, Verity had thanked each one graciously. She knew from the diaries that Sarah Ann had demonstrated only kindness and charity in the face of ignorance and resentment, and Verity thought that Catawissa had long been suffering from the lack of her mother's example. She didn't know if she could fill those shoes, but she certainly planned to try.

When plans for the cemetery were being discussed and Reverend White lamented the impracticality of building the new wall around just the two women's graves, Verity was quick to respond, “Surely you weren't planning to exclude the Claytons?”

“Miss Boone,” the minister said, sighing, “you don't know what kind of men they were.”

“No, I don't,” she admitted. “But I assume they've accounted for their lives in the hereafter. I don't think our cemetery is the place to pass judgment on them.” She lifted her chin. “That's why, if Liza Thomas and her brothers want to put up a memorial stone for their mother, you'll hear no objection from me.” She must have shamed him, for he dropped his eyes, and plans moved forward with no more complaints from Reverend White.

This morning's sunlight washed the cemetery grounds in unaccustomed cheer, and Verity noticed that someone had left flowers at both Asenath's and Sarah Ann's headstones. Ransloe Boone stopped in front of his wife's grave and removed his hat. Verity folded her gloved hands in front of her and sighed deeply.

Without that wall standing like an accusation, she thought, the two iron structures looked less like cages and more like decorative coverings for the graves. Perhaps, with additional flowers and ivy, she could improve their appearance further. They would, after all, be standing here a long time. Removing the cages would require disinterring the caskets, and she, her father, and Uncle John had decided to spare Sarah Ann and Asenath that indignity. Verity fancied that with a little effort, she might make “hooded graves” a new fashion.

Her father nodded in satisfaction at the openness of the cemetery grounds. “Your mother would be proud of you,” he said, replacing his hat on his head.

Verity looked up at him. “Do you think so?”

Ransloe Boone regarded his daughter with a smile. He wore a newly tailored frock coat this morning, livened with a fashionably wide necktie looped in a bow. “You've been here less than two months, and you've already changed all our lives. Yes, I think Sarah Ann would have been very proud.”

Verity slipped her hand back into the crook of his arm so that he could escort her inside for the service. “Father,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “I'm only just beginning.”

THE CHARACTERS in
The Caged Graves
are fictional. However, there really are two caged graves in an abandoned cemetery outside the town of Catawissa, Pennsylvania. One belongs to Sarah Ann, wife of Ransloe Boone, and the other belongs to Asenath, wife of John Thomas. The women died within days of each other. Local historians have been able to prove they were sisters-in-law (John was Sarah Ann's brother), but how they died and why the cages were erected over their graves remains a mystery.

Belief that the dead could rise from their graves and attack the living was not uncommon in North America in the nineteenth century, although the term “vampire” was not generally in use until after the publication of Bram Stoker's
Dracula
in 1897. The customary “cure” for the state of being undead was dismemberment of the corpse. I've based Rebecca Clayton's treatment at the hands of her father on the story of Mercy Brown of Exeter, Rhode Island.

Although it seems like common sense today, most people of the mid-nineteenth century had no concept of germs and did not realize the importance of cleanliness when treating wounds. Some researchers were advocating sterilization of medical equipment, but many physicians were resistant to the idea. I may have stretched credibility when Hadley Jones insists on clean equipment, but by 1867 a number of articles on the subject had appeared in medical journals, and a young, open-minded doctor might have read and believed them.

The Poole family is loosely based on the Pool Tribe of Bradford County, Pennsylvania, believed to be descendants of the Native Americans who assisted the British at the Battle of Wyoming in 1778. The British soldiers and their Indian allies really did burn their way through the Wyoming Valley, killing civilians and executing some of their prisoners of war. It is believed that at least two American prisoners escaped, fleeing into the Shades of Death swamp. If one of those men carried a small fortune in gold coins, nobody is telling.

I hope that residents of Columbia County, Pennsylvania, will forgive me for the numerous geographical liberties I have taken with my fictional version of Catawissa.

Finally, I couldn't have written this book alone, and I'd like to thank my agent, Sara Crowe, and my editor, Dinah Stevenson, as well as my critique partners, Marcy Hatch and Krystalyn Drown, and beta readers Andrea Burdette, Gwen Dandridge, Katie Mills, Al and Kay Past, Sri Upadhyay, and Lori Walker. My entire family supported me in this project, but I want to especially thank my daughters, Gabrielle and Gina, for their outspoken opinions (!), my sister, Laurie, for a timely comment, my brother-in-law, Larry, for his expertise on nineteenth-century firearms, and my husband, Bob, for tracking down the location of the real caged graves.

 

D
IANNE
K. S
ALERNI
was inspired to write this novel after finding two real-life caged graves. She is a fifth grade teacher and children's book author who lives in New London, Pennsylvania. Visit her website at
www.highspiritsbook.com
.