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no matter what he said. He must have left Boston at sunrise.
    "I found Rory's footprints," she told him. "It's just like he said—he stood behind a bush and then went back to the road. If you come quickly I'll show you before I start my class."
    Daniel followed her out to the spot where the body was found. She showed him the footprints coming up from the road and stopping behind the chokecherry bush. He whistled when he saw them.
    "You're a clever one to notice these. We'll have to draw a picture right now so we can see whether it matches Rory's shoes." He pulled sheets of paper out of his pocket and crouched down beside the print. Using a piece of string, he measured the exact length and width of the print. His hands moved quickly but carefully getting the measurement exactly right. Then he started drawing. He frowned with concentration and his hair fell over his forehead as he worked; he pushed it back impatiently. His fingers were very long and whiteand his drawing was good; Charlotte wondered whether he'd had drawing lessons in Ireland.
    When they got back to the house, they stopped in the parlor to pay their respects to Winslow Hopewell. Mrs. Ripley and Abigail Pretlove were sitting watch. All the women took their turns at that sharing responsibility for the body until Winslow's father took him back to Boston. Charlotte couldn't help looking at the deep gash on his forehead. Something had cut deeply all across his forehead. What would leave a mark like that?
    Later that morning, as she listened to the children's lessons, the picture of Winslow Hopewell's battered face kept coming back to her. Why would anyone strike at a man like him? She knew that face would haunt her for weeks. That gash...suddenly she realized what could have caused such a deep, wide cut. It was the size of the hoes used for cultivating the crops at the Farm. Could Winslow Hopewell have been attacked with a hoe from their own barn? It was just a wild guess. But maybe it was possible. The thought made her shudder.

CHAPTER SIX
    Charlotte Talks to the Sheriff
    October 11, 1842
    Shortly before noon, the men came from the barn carrying the new coffin. At almost the same time, a large closed carriage arrived from Boston. The Reverend Thomas Hopewell was a thin gray-haired man, his face pinched with sorrow. George Ripley helped him step down from the coach and greeted him warmly. The two men walked slowly into the parlor while Charlotte and the other women clustered around the door to offer their sympathy. The Reverend Hopewell accepted their words with a thin smile.
    Before long it was over and some of the younger men carried the closed coffin from the parlor, down the front steps and slipped it into the back of the carriage. Old Mr. Hopewell's shoulders sagged as he watched them lift it, but the rigid expression on his face never changed. He shook hands with Mr. Ripley, took his place in the carriage and soon rumbled off on the road to Boston.
    Classes weren't held on Wednesday afternoons, so Daniel and Charlotte decided to walk into the city and tell the sheriff about the footprints they had found. Ellen and Fred tagged along. Ellen saidshe had to buy pepper and nutmeg for her mother's baking, but the two of them were more interested in getting away from the bleak feeling at the farm than in buying spices.
    The four of them trudged along the road while clouds gathered overhead and wind swirled dead grasses across their paths. The goldenrod had died out and the fields were brown with defeated bushes drooping toward the ground. When they got to the edge of the city, Fred and Ellen headed off for the market near the docks while Daniel and Charlotte went to the new City Hall on School Street to see the sheriff, Samuel Grover.
    They found Mr. Grover sitting at a large desk poring over some papers. A skinny clerk in a black suit sat in a scratching away on a long sheet of paper copying a document. Mr. Grover stood up to greet them and Charlotte was surprised