In an old cemetery just outside of Pendleton, New York, a tombstone marks the grave of Sarah Mumford. The cleaned stone sits in a bed of white gravel. Flowers and porcelain angels adorn the grave. A caring person keeps it that way. The mystery of Sarah Mumford still captivates locals more than 120 years after her death. Though no one who lived when it happened is alive today, Sarah’s story is still recalled by history buffs across Niagara County. The quest to find her justice is still alive.

 I stumbled across Sarah’s story on a different quest. My father never knew the names of his grandparents on his mother’s side. This seemed odd to me since my grandmother was born less than ten miles from where I grew up in Niagara County. Armed with only a little information, I began a search for the truth. Along the way, I discovered the unsolved mystery of Sarah Mumford’s death. Besides living in the same town at the same time, I noticed other parallels between Sarah’s and my great-grandmother Amelia’s stories. I was hooked. What started as family research became a mission to solve an extremely cold case.

The more I uncovered, the more I became compelled to solve both mysteries. With each discovery, the two stories became more entwined. I unearthed some startling revelations. And I realized that it was a story that needed to be told.

I decided to tell the two stories along the same timeline with alternating chapters. I wrote Sarah’s story as narrative nonfiction. All the people, dates, events, and descriptions came from my research. Any dialogue came from direct quotes found in newspaper articles or historical records. I wanted readers to experience the events in the investigation as they happened so they could try to solve the mystery for themselves.

I wrote Amelia’s story as historical fiction. The people, dates, and significant events were real. I created the dialogue. I wanted to give at least one of the girls a voice. Amelia’s perspective was informed by my research of her life as well as documented accounts of what Pendleton residents thought about the murder. I took care not to create anything in the dialogue that would change the facts of Sarah’s case.

What happened to Sarah and Amelia provides a glimpse into hidden realms of society, a reflection of the past with implications still relevant today. It is also a mystery to be unraveled.

June 8, 1899

Engineer Roger Metcalf prepared the locomotive for departure, unaware that a week later he would be called to testify about the evening’s events. Buffalo’s New York Central Railroad station bustled with chatty theatergoers awaiting the train to carry them back to Lockport. Floral and feathered hats bobbed above the crowd as women jostled for one more chance to parade their evening attire. Chilled by the evening air, those in short sleeves pulled their shawls over their shoulders.

The Theater train, as it was known, took no more than forty-five minutes to transport passengers from the City of Lockport to Buffalo for an evening of amusement. The New York Central added it as a regular route in January of 1898 after railway officials received hundreds of requests from prominent members of Lockport society. The non-stop train proved popular. Members of Lockport social circles reveled in the privilege of riding the train into Buffalo to attend theatrical performances.

Conductor Harry Conway, dressed in his brass-buttoned uniform, signaled to the crowd to board the train. He checked for tickets as they settled in their seats. The din of chatter filled the car with recaps of the evening’s best lines and occasional outbursts of laughter.

That night, all three of the major Buffalo theaters had performed comedies, adding an extra lilt to the always lively crowd. The Lyceum Theatre treated their audience to The Geisha. The well-known opera offered a light-hearted look at the stories and tribulations of indentured women.

The train left the downtown station at half past eleven. The lateness of the hour began to show on the faces of some of the passengers.

Before midnight, the train neared the town of Pendleton. Most Thursday evenings, the small farming community would have been tucked away sleeping long before that hour. Engineer Metcalf and his fireman Frank Turner sat in the cab looking out of the front window. Inside the train, the passengers softened their voices. Some battled sleepiness, some still chatted about the play, but no one heard the commotion outside as the train rumbled past Mapleton station. At midnight the Theater train passed Shawnee crossing right on schedule.

About a quarter of a mile up the track, engineer Metcalf noticed something wrong with the air brake on his train. He brought the engine to a halt and climbed down to locate the problem. He discovered a plug had been knocked off from the brake pipe near the bottom of the engine. It looked like the train had struck an obstacle, but after a quick check, he found nothing else concerning. He fitted a wooden plug into the valve and continued toward Lockport.

They rolled into Lockport station at almost a quarter past midnight. Passengers took little notice of any disruption as they departed the train and returned to their comfortable homes.

It was not until the next morning, when Metcalf performed a closer examination of the locomotive, that he made a startling discovery.