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his temper, but she couldfeel it. It hung in the air like a threatening cloud. At least Carrie and Mae Bell would be gone for the day. Perhaps they wouldn't have to endure another fight.
    Charlie's mind raced wildly as he devised his final plan. He must move quickly! He drew short, quick breaths as he grabbed up the gun he had left on the porch after the target practice. He moved with long, ground-covering strides through the deep snow, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to be sure the girls had not yet left the house. He had made his decision. Now there would be no turning back—no stopping for anyone or anything. He hurried through the barn, picking up his other guns. In a few minutes, Charlie had reached his position behind the tobacco barn. He was about five hundred yards from the house. Now, all he would have to do was wait just a few short minutes.
    The girls gave Fannie a hug and left the warmth of the cabin. For a long moment, she stood in the frosty front window and watched them make their way across the cold, white landscape. She said nothing to Marie and the young man as she passed them on her way to the kitchen. It had been a while since she had checked on the fire.
    Meanwhile, in the nearby woods, Elijah Lawson and his sons, Fred and Claude were ending their morning rabbit hunt...
    In the distance, Charlie could hear his daughter's voices, but still, he waited—waited for them to get just close enough. His fingers nervously tapped the stock of the rifle.
    He made a last, quick check over his guns. A couple of weeks before he had had them all checked by a gunsmith. He held one and propped the other two against the wall of the
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    barn. He had his 25/20 calibre Windchester rifle; his double-barreled 12-gauge shotgun; and a 12-gauge single barreled shotgun. Charlie took his final position and waited patiently for his daughters'to pass by his position. Nervously, he rested his head against the back of the barn. The long minutes ticked by. His rapid breathing made tiny, white puffs before quickly disappearing in the cold winter air.
    Little Carrie and Mae Bell innocently took their usual route to Uncle Elijah's house. They could not know the danger that awaited them as they grew ever nearer to the familiar old tobacco barn...
    Finally the girls drew near. Charlie stepped out from behind the building. He was ominous looking with his eyes almost obscured beneath his broad-brimmed black hat. The girls were startled by his sudden appearance.
    "Papa?" Carrie asked. "What're you doing here?"
    No answer. Charlie raised his rifle, aimed, and fired his first shot. Young Carrie, hit in the head, fell to the ground. Little Mae Bell, bewildered and screaming in terror, turned to run back to the safety of the house and her mother. Before she could take more than a step or two, her father had switched guns and shot her in her back left side with his 12-gauge shot gun, destroying part of her left lung.
    Charlie picked up a three-foot two by four that had been propped against the side of the tobacco barn. The girls were still moving—still moaning. He didn't want them to suffer. Standing above his dying little daughters, Charlie came down against their heads with blow after blow until the little bodies lay silent in the blood-soaked snow.
    He picked up Carrie's pretty little blue hat from where it had fallen in the snow and tucked it in his pocket. One by one, he dragged the limp bodies of his two little daughters into the tobacco barn. There, he carefully placed stones beneath each of their heads. He folded their lifeless little arms across their chests and closed their eyes. He drew Carrie's little blue hat from his pocket and laid it beside her head. Calmly
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    and deliberately, he closed the door and turned the latch behind him. Now there could be no turning back. He gathered up his guns and began to run back toward the house—there was very little time...
    At the Lawson home, that one neighborhood youth was