The year was 1883, Rose Mary was a young sprite of ten and yet to know true cruelty. Though her father had begun allowing her to apprentice his practice, much of her lessons pertained to non-invasive procedures and book learning.
Maria Dunn, eight year old daughter of Oscar and Loretta Dunn, did not yet know human cruelty, either. Her parents, like many other black Americans of the time, were newly freed slaves. They still yet remembered the greed that kept them bound, and wore the grief of their many years of servitude openly. They did their damnedest to ensure their children would live knowing the life and liberty they were promised.
The two young girls met while Maria's parents were shopping at the Brighthope general store, both children playing out on the boardwalk sprawling along the Main Street. They played with their dollies, made pretend they were fancy ladies drinking tea, talked about their favorite animals, and instantly felt a kinship with one another.
Segregation still gripped small town America. Though the Republicans1 of the day were making great strides to provide public education to African Americans, the movement had yet to meet rural Ozark. Mary, eager to share her favorite books with her good friend, began teaching Maria penmanship to the best ability a child could do for another.
It was through this care that Oscar and Loretta began to retract their reservations of Maria befriending the young Asian American girl.
A few years passed filled with adventure, laughter, and song.
Maria's family did what they could to provide for their children, but they lacked the means. Thomas Virgil raised his children to be charitable when possible, it was a naturally occurring thought for Rosemary to give all of her hand-me-downs to Maria. Dolls, dresses, books, shoes, anything she hadn't need for was given to her friend with the intent to bring Maria joy.
The year was 1886, Maria left her little siblings at her family's modest home on the outskirts of Brighthope to pick blackberries in the ditches alongside the dirt road. She departed at 11 a.m.
Her parents came home from their respective jobs and fixed supper. They called out for everyone to assemble for prayer, and all came, save for Maria. Loretta stood on their porch and called out into the setting sun until the sky flooded with lilac.
The worry set in.
They searched her favorite hiding spots they knew of, called out up and down their road and the surrounding fields, but to no avail. She was gone.
The Dunns filed a report with the local sheriffs. They felt uneasy setting the fate of their daughter in their hands, being known ex confederates, but what else could they do?
The local law enforcement did little to locate the missing girl. A half-heartedly conducted search near the scene of disappearance and a missing poster on the town hall bulletin later, they called off the search with the notion that it was most likely too late.
Even the local African American representatives could only keep the public eye on the disappearance for so long before their attentions needed to be focused elsewhere.
Those that we're fortunate enough not to experience such travesty began keeping a better eye on their children. Some extended their grievances with words of condolences or gifts, but no one could do enough without their daughter being returned safely. No one seemed to have seen it heard anything of Maria the day she'd gone missing. It was as if she were gone without a trace.
Almost.
A month following Maria's disappearance, Mary was trekking the short distance from the general store to her father's clinic when she spotted a little red shoe in the bed of a wagon. The same red shoe with black buckles to a matching set she'd outgrown the year prior and had given to Maria.
The sight filled her with fear and froze her in her tracks.
She gazed with terror upon the owners of the wagon, sitting idly in the driver's station. Two unkept hillbilly looking characters, similar in the face for their ugliness and possessing half a set of teeth between them. The younger one had a tuft dishwater blonde hair sprouting from his peanut shaped head, adorning only a pair of paint doused overalls with one of the galluses drooping woefully to his side. No shirt, no shoes to speak of. Only a scowl and god knows what rubbish on his sun burned, ruddy skin. The older one was equally unwashed, chestnut haired and adorned a similar set of clothes save for the terribly worn out blue button up beneath his overalls.
She took in their every feature as if her life depended on it, because she felt Maria's life did. Rose Mary's eyes trailed down to the inscription on the wagon's side and read it aloud to be sure. In fresh, bright lettering it read," Miller & Sons Masonry".
Perhaps the men felt uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of the child, because as she mouthed the words carefully they quickly urged their horses to get on. The jostle caused the shoe to fall from the bed.
Mary hurriedly scuttled to save it from the muddy main street and took it straight to the sheriffs.
They treated this new bit of evidence just as dismissively as they had the case from the start, assuring her they'd never heard of the masonry company she spoke of, but they'd keep their eyes out just in case.
Miller & Sons Masonry company were never seen in Brighthope again.
1- I always found it really funny that Republicans and Democrats switched platforms about a hundred years ago. Before then, policies we would commonly associate with Republicans were actually held by Democrats, and vice versa. Republicans were the first ones to advocate for African American rights, while democrats advocated for a laissez faire attitude for federal government involvement with state governments. Interesting to think that the confederacy was actually made up of Democrats.
Maria Dunn, eight year old daughter of Oscar and Loretta Dunn, did not yet know human cruelty, either. Her parents, like many other black Americans of the time, were newly freed slaves. They still yet remembered the greed that kept them bound, and wore the grief of their many years of servitude openly. They did their damnedest to ensure their children would live knowing the life and liberty they were promised.
The two young girls met while Maria's parents were shopping at the Brighthope general store, both children playing out on the boardwalk sprawling along the Main Street. They played with their dollies, made pretend they were fancy ladies drinking tea, talked about their favorite animals, and instantly felt a kinship with one another.
Segregation still gripped small town America. Though the Republicans1 of the day were making great strides to provide public education to African Americans, the movement had yet to meet rural Ozark. Mary, eager to share her favorite books with her good friend, began teaching Maria penmanship to the best ability a child could do for another.
It was through this care that Oscar and Loretta began to retract their reservations of Maria befriending the young Asian American girl.
A few years passed filled with adventure, laughter, and song.
Maria's family did what they could to provide for their children, but they lacked the means. Thomas Virgil raised his children to be charitable when possible, it was a naturally occurring thought for Rosemary to give all of her hand-me-downs to Maria. Dolls, dresses, books, shoes, anything she hadn't need for was given to her friend with the intent to bring Maria joy.
The year was 1886, Maria left her little siblings at her family's modest home on the outskirts of Brighthope to pick blackberries in the ditches alongside the dirt road. She departed at 11 a.m.
Her parents came home from their respective jobs and fixed supper. They called out for everyone to assemble for prayer, and all came, save for Maria. Loretta stood on their porch and called out into the setting sun until the sky flooded with lilac.
The worry set in.
They searched her favorite hiding spots they knew of, called out up and down their road and the surrounding fields, but to no avail. She was gone.
The Dunns filed a report with the local sheriffs. They felt uneasy setting the fate of their daughter in their hands, being known ex confederates, but what else could they do?
The local law enforcement did little to locate the missing girl. A half-heartedly conducted search near the scene of disappearance and a missing poster on the town hall bulletin later, they called off the search with the notion that it was most likely too late.
Even the local African American representatives could only keep the public eye on the disappearance for so long before their attentions needed to be focused elsewhere.
Those that we're fortunate enough not to experience such travesty began keeping a better eye on their children. Some extended their grievances with words of condolences or gifts, but no one could do enough without their daughter being returned safely. No one seemed to have seen it heard anything of Maria the day she'd gone missing. It was as if she were gone without a trace.
Almost.
A month following Maria's disappearance, Mary was trekking the short distance from the general store to her father's clinic when she spotted a little red shoe in the bed of a wagon. The same red shoe with black buckles to a matching set she'd outgrown the year prior and had given to Maria.
The sight filled her with fear and froze her in her tracks.
She gazed with terror upon the owners of the wagon, sitting idly in the driver's station. Two unkept hillbilly looking characters, similar in the face for their ugliness and possessing half a set of teeth between them. The younger one had a tuft dishwater blonde hair sprouting from his peanut shaped head, adorning only a pair of paint doused overalls with one of the galluses drooping woefully to his side. No shirt, no shoes to speak of. Only a scowl and god knows what rubbish on his sun burned, ruddy skin. The older one was equally unwashed, chestnut haired and adorned a similar set of clothes save for the terribly worn out blue button up beneath his overalls.
She took in their every feature as if her life depended on it, because she felt Maria's life did. Rose Mary's eyes trailed down to the inscription on the wagon's side and read it aloud to be sure. In fresh, bright lettering it read," Miller & Sons Masonry".
Perhaps the men felt uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of the child, because as she mouthed the words carefully they quickly urged their horses to get on. The jostle caused the shoe to fall from the bed.
Mary hurriedly scuttled to save it from the muddy main street and took it straight to the sheriffs.
They treated this new bit of evidence just as dismissively as they had the case from the start, assuring her they'd never heard of the masonry company she spoke of, but they'd keep their eyes out just in case.
Miller & Sons Masonry company were never seen in Brighthope again.
1- I always found it really funny that Republicans and Democrats switched platforms about a hundred years ago. Before then, policies we would commonly associate with Republicans were actually held by Democrats, and vice versa. Republicans were the first ones to advocate for African American rights, while democrats advocated for a laissez faire attitude for federal government involvement with state governments. Interesting to think that the confederacy was actually made up of Democrats.
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