Usurper's Crown

Chapter One Sand Island, Wisconsin, 1872 The bed frame creaked, and Ingrid Loftfield instantly opened her eyes. Moonlight streamed in through the mended curtains, laying a silver skin across the room's sparse furnishings. It was more than enough to show Ingrid the silhouette of her sister Grace climbing out of their sagging bed. Unblinking, Grace rounded the bed's foot. Ingrid held her breath. Grace's hand strayed out to pick up her knitted shawl from where it hung on the post, but her eyes did not turn to see what her hand did. All her attention remained fixed on the bedroom door as she padded across the bare boards and out into the hall. Ingrid kicked back the quilt and jumped to her feet. She pulled off her nightgown to reveal her dark skirt and work shirt. Her jaw firmly set, she bent down to stuff her feet into her worn boots. Tonight she would find out what ailed her sister. "She just wants a good shaking," their brother Leo had announced. "You're too free with the girl." Papa had glowered at Mama. "You should not let her go galloping across to Bayfield whenever she pleases. It's some man, you see if it isn't." "You must watch her, Ingrid," Mama had whispered in the back kitchen as she banked the fire for the night. "The Devil's finally got to her." Devil or man, I will have my answer. Stepping as lightly as she could, Ingrid followed Grace into the hallway. Her sister was already down the stairs. Grace did not look back once as she slipped soundlessly out the front door. Ingrid herself was halfway down the stairs. A floorboard creaked behind her. Ingrid twisted to see back over her shoulder. Her mother stood at the top of the stairs, a candle in her hand, and her face pale with some emotion Ingrid found she could not name. "What is it, Mother?" she heard Papa's gravelly voice call. "Nothing," Mama called back. "Nothing at all." Ingrid swallowed hard, and hurried out after her sister into the chill of the late-spring night. The brisk wind smelled of pine resin and the ever-present cold of Lake Superior. Grace all but flew down the footpath toward the rutted track that served as Eastbay's main road. Gathering up her hems, Ingrid followed, her teeth gritted until they ached. Tonight we put a stop to this. The settlement of Eastbay popped up here and there out of Sand Island's wilderness like a cluster of spring mushrooms. It called itself a town, but it was little more than a scattering of dwellings connected by meandering dirt paths. Despite the fat, full moon that lit the night, the houses seemed blind and distant. Even the forge squatted darkly back in the woods. The trees loomed large and all the night noisesthe rustling, hooting, rushing soundsfilled in all the empty spaces, leaving Ingrid with the unaccustomed sensation of being a trespasser.This is not your place, the whole world seemed to say to her.Go back to your bed until the daylight comes. Leave her to us. But Grace hurried on before her, a pale ghost in her flannel nightdress, and Ingrid could not even think of turning back. Mama was trusting her to find out what was happening, and to do it quickly. If Papa found out Grace had gone out of sight of the house, unaccompanied, at night, Grace's life would be made unbearable, whatever the reason turned out to be. Grace's illness had begun in May, just as the island's short, late, spring was beginning to warm toward summer. Grace had been across on the mainland in Bayfield, earning a little extra by doing for Mrs. Hofstetter who had just been delivered of twins. Papa had objectZettel, Sarah is the author of 'Usurper's Crown', published 2004 under ISBN 9780812565188 and ISBN 0812565185.