(Untitled)
Got suckered into cleaning out the Closet of No Return for my mother yesterday. Barely made it out alive. I have an inexplicable fear of both spiders and dust-bunnies, so it’s a miracle I didn’t drop dead of a heart attack. Actually, a ventriloquist dummy very nearly did me in. That’s just not something you want to shine a flashlight on when you’re
( Read more... )
WILMINGTON, N. C., March 20. The inhabitants of the beautiful valley of Tyron Mountain were, this morning, startled by the discovery of a tragedy, startling, sickening and romantic in its details, it being no less than a deadly duel between two women, to decide which of the twain should have solely the affection of a man who had been paying attention to both of them. Last night, they met, and, after a hand to hand conflict, one was left dead upon the field, although, as the sequel proved, her defeat was accomplished by means of foul play.
Robert S. Elby, a young farmer in humble life, lived near the scene of the tragedy. A year ago, he was an ardent suitor for the hand of Miss Gracie Mills, who lived just over the South Carolina line; but, although he courted her frequently, she would not marry him. Some months since, he met Miss Jane Jackson, who lived in the Valley of Tyron Mountain, here in North Carolina, and he gave up his long struggle for the hand of the South Carolina maiden, and transferred his affections to Miss Jackson, upon whose heart, after more than one assault, he appeared to make some impression. As soon as the South Carolina woman discovered this, she entertained violent hatred toward Jane Jackson, and the feeling was returned by her rival, who was now vexed at not taking it when she had the chance. Both were robust country women, and it was thought that there would be trouble between them, as each had, on more then one occasion, defied the other.
Last night, Miss Jackson was sitting in the house with a friend, Dorm Spencer. Just at dark, a voice was heard from the road calling Jane Jackson. Jane got up and went out, and never returned. This morning, when search was made, the searching party came upon a spot which gave evidence that it had been the field of a desperate battle for life. Sticks and stones were there, and the ground was torn by the tramping of feet, while the soil had been turned into gory mud. Further search revealed a trail, showing that a body had been dragged, and further on, in a creek, lay the body of Jane Jackson, stiff and cold, and, in one of her clinched hands, was found a tuft of hair of her assailant, which indicated that she had made a desperate struggle for life.
From all the evidence that could be elicited, it seems that the two women met out in the road that night. The tracks show that Gracie Mills was accompanied by a man, and, when she was getting the worst of the fight, her male partner came up and struck a fatal blow with a fence rail upon the head of Miss Jackson, and the two together proceeded to murder her. The hair, which the dead woman clutched in her hands, was that of Gracie Mills. Who her male accomplice was is a mystery. The murderess has fled, and there is no clew to her whereabouts. The affair has caused wild excitement.
Reply
Thanks for passing the info along. It’s a relief to finally know that her stiffened fingers were clutching a tuft of hair. It really was driving me a little crazy. (Or possibly crazier.) I guess it’s a little morbid, but the whole story fascinates me. So much for the idyllic “times were simpler back then…”
I really can’t thank you enough for filling me in. Although now I have a whole new set of questions. Mysterious accomplices, vanishing assailants… it just gets better and better, doesn’t it?
Reply
Leave a comment