Spotting the hog-slaughtering knife gleaming coldly on the table, Rosalind Green hesitated for only a moment before trying to lift it. But the blade was too heavy; she couldn't move it at all.
With no other choice, Rosalind Green switched to a hatchet. This one was lighter. Gripping it tightly, her palms began to sweat. She peered through the crack in the door. It was pitch-black outside, and she couldn't see a thing, but she could hear a noise—someone was trying to pry the door latch.
The familiar sound made Rosalind Green's legs go weak. It had to be the local ruffians. They knew her son wasn't home and wanted to take advantage of her. Rosalind mustered her courage and resisted the urge to call for Phoebe Huxley. Clutching the hatchet with both hands, she hid behind the door. 'If those bastards dare to come in, I'll hack them to death.'
