The life and day of Elizabeth Marie Carter, 1894

 At sunrise, I was already awake. Life in 1894 in Massachusetts was a lot different than one would expect on Easter morning. We all rise and fall with the chickens. That means work from sunup to sundown. But not on Easter. Mother and I wake to make breakfast before the sun has arrived. Father takes the brothers, James and Timothy, to gather wood for the morning fireplace. When they have returned, fresh smells of cooked bacon and boiled eggs fill the house. In our humble house of four rooms, the smell drifts quickly. As I set the table, I see through the open door dim light from the horizon. I hurry to finish the place settings. Mother puts the food on the table, and the boys eat quickly after putting the wood into the fireplace. Then us women eat our share. After everyone has done their part to clean up from breakfast, mother makes the tea while father milks the cow and Timothy gathers the chicken’s eggs. James, a mere boy of five, whittles in the common room, near to the fire. I wash the dishes and help mother preserve the meat for tonight’s dinner. Once Timothy has come back with a basket of smooth, oval eggs and father a pail of cow’s milk, we all sit on the sheets of linen mother has spread out on the floor of the common room. Father reads from his little leather book of psalms, and we quietly sing hymns together in the firelight. For the first time today, father speaks. “when the sun comes up on Easter morn, ‘tis the sign that Jesus has risen and beat the grave,” he says in his gravelly voice. I, having listened to father speak these words since a small baby a year of twelve ago, murmur along. Timothy, ten, tries to remember what he can about last Easter, and listens to father’s gentle words with anticipation. “He beat the Devil, and he beat our very own sins, on that day,” he continues on. “and he will continue to beat sin until our very last day on this Earth, when he shall rise up and declare the war over. Christ has already won.” father finishes, starting another hymn, which even James is able to murmur. 

“He has Come, He has Come

Emannuel with us,

He beat the grave, 

He came to save,

and the War of Life He’s won.”

When the hymn is finished, father and mother lead us to our rooms to be dressed for church. Timothy and James dress into their shiny boots and unwrinkled pants, and I, behind the curtain that separates my space from the brothers’, slip into my simple faded orange Easter dress. Mother pins up my hair with her grandmother’s barret, and we, as a family, travel down the dusty road to the cathedral. After we finish the half mile walk to church, we enter quietly. I spy my best friend, Rose, adorned in a faded red dress much like my own. She smiles and waves, and then turns her attention back to her father, who is talking to her and her five siblings. My family finds an empty spot near to the back of the church just as the pastor starts the morning prayer.

“God, be with us this Easter morn, and do not shy away from showing your presence here. May each and every person here on this day find peace in your name. Teach us to follow by your law, and teach us to be patient in waiting for your coming. In the Holy Name of Christ Jesus we pray, Amen.” 

 Then, the pastor preached for some time about Christ rising on the third day, and continuing to spread the word through his disciples and his own self. 

 Then, when we were released, I ran up to Rose and greeted her in French. “Hello, Rose. How is your family?” I said. Rose smiled at me. “Very well, and yours?” she replied in the same language. We had started learning French together from a few dusty books we had found in the town’s archives. “Much the same.” we walked out of the church together with our families, and once at the crossroads, turned and said goodbye, in French of course. 

 “mother, may I stitch for a while when we get home? After all, it is the Sabbath,” I asked mother. She nodded and replied, “of course, dear. On the Sabbath we do not work. You may do so.” And from then on, we walked in silence. 

 Once home, Timothy and James whittled with father in the common room, while I sat on mother’s bed with her and we quilted the sheet that I was making for the family for Christmas. Just as I was thinking that this was the perfect Easter Sunday, the village bell rang out throughout town. I jumped up right behind mother. Everyone knew what the bell meant. Something very important had happened and everyone was required in the town square for a meeting. We had ten minutes to get to town square before the meeting started without us. The last time this had happened, three weeks ago, it was a notice that a child of seven, named Darlyn Thuller, had gone missing with three hundred dollars from the bank. She and the money still hadn’t been found. I shuddered and hoped that nothing like that had happened again.

 When we got out to the common room with our things on, we saw the men had already started off without us. We hurried once more down the dusty road to the town square, where a number of the town had already gathered. I saw Rose with her family, hugging her crying mother. She too, had tears in her eyes. I couldn’t figure out what could be wrong. And then I saw it--only three of her five siblings were with her. Her father looked worried, and her mother couldn’t cork her own tears. I noticed something else that was wrong--the mayor was discussing something with the town banker, and they both had troubled faces as well. But before I could point anything out to my father, the mayor cleared his throat and stood as tall up as he could, near the fountain. “Good day, to everyone here. Happy Easter to all. I have some troubling news. It seems…..Ah...important enough to ring the bell. You see…” the mayor looked very uncomfortable delivering the news. “two little boys of the Charles Coner family have gone missing. What more, the bank has been discovered to be missing $500 dollars since this morning. Whomever took the money used Easter Sunday as a distraction from our sights, to sneak in and make him or herself rich.” The mayor paused, and winced as if whatever next he must say would really hurt him. “A handful of folks have brought up the idea that the two little Coner children could have found a way, to, well, sneak into the bank and steal the money before sneaking back into church with their family.” The mayor nodded to Rose’s family. Before the mayor had the chance to continue, however, Mr. Coner spoke up. “there was no way either of my two missing children could have broken into the bank. They were watching our service the entire time. Charles was on my lap and Andrew on Mary’s. Neither one of them are older than the age of seven. How do you suggest they could have done it?” Another man from our village spoke up. “Easy, sneak into the bank, stuff their little grubby pockets with money, run back to the church service before mummy or daddy figure out they’re gone, then run away with the money to live the lives of a general’s son.” The man snickered at the outrageous look on Rose’s father’s face. Before the whole town started to argue, I tugged on Rose’s dress and slipped into the outer reach of the forest surrounding the town square. She raised her eyebrows, but followed. “Yes?” she whispers once out of earshot. “What really happened?” when did the boys go missing?” I asked, watching a tear roll down her cheek. “Just after church, when we got home to eat. I set the table, mother prepared luncheon and father gathered wood for the fireplace with William, leaving the three youngsters with Gerogetta. She had gone to the ladies’ room to hem her skirt, and when she had gotten back, the meal bell was rung, so she went to the table and called the children in. Except only Ann had come. Everyone then took a moment to search for them, but neither could be found. After a half hour of calling their names, we gave up and declared an emergency to the mayor. It was only when the mayor announced the money missing as well that we realized that the conversation between the mayor and the banker that we had walked into when declaring the boys missing had more meaning to it than we had thought.” Rose finished talking. “But I just cannot believe they would accuse those poor boys of doing anything so treacherous. Can you believe it, though? five hundred dollars?” Rose was completely in tears by now. I assured her it would be okay and then we started the walk back to the square. Suddenly I heard something, like a child’s crying. I stopped, my arm on Rose’s shoulder. “listen,” I breathed, not daring to make a sound. Rose must have heard it, too, because she quietly crept towards the sound. It was surely a child’s weeping, we found as we got closer and closer, neither of us making the first move, neither of us daring to say a word. When we finally got close enough to make out who it was, both Rose and I quietly gasped. Three children, bound by the hands and feet and lightly gagged, were lying in a corner of a small campsite. An unlit fire sat in the middle, and three men were sitting around the fireplace. One was sharpening a knife, another loading a gun, and a third counting up a wad of bills in his hands. By the looks of it, it seemed to be more than eight hundred dollars’ worth! The three children in the corner sat with eyes wide. One of them I recognized as the Thuller child, Darlyn, who had gone missing three weeks ago. her face was bruised and dirty, and her arms and legs were scraped and muddy. The other two children I immediately recognized as the Coner boys, Rose’s brothers. So they hadn’t taken the money from the bank! The three men who had framed the children were all huge, six feet three at least, and looked like they all knew how to use a gun. They all had a greedy glint in their eyes, knowing that as long as they escaped without getting caught, they were rich men. I looked at Rose, whose eyes were fastened on her four-and-seven-year-old brothers, bound and gagged still in their church clothes, with tear-stains and blood marks on their little muddy faces. Darlyn looked even worse, being held captive for more than three weeks and living on what looked like no more than a slice of bread and a gulp of water a day. She was scrawny, eyes sunken, and her previously beautiful blonde curls were now a matted nest of muddy, brown strings. Her lovely blue eyes no longer glinted in the sunlight, but were hollow and dark, as if she hadn’t seen sun since she was captured. 

 I peered around the campsite for a sign of any other children being held hostage, but all I saw was a torn tent of rags and a small rapsack that must usually hold the stolen money and all the men’s supplies. As I looked around, I spotted little four-year-old Andrew, who had managed to get the gag loose around his mouth. “Sir,” he peeped, hoarse in the mouth and timid as death. “sir, may I please have a drink? I...I am thirsty,” he finished in a small voice, flinching as if the men might hit him. One of the men, the one sharpening the knife, got up and gave Andrew and the others a few gulps of water, and had them cup their hands to wash their faces. He then handed out a slice of bread and cheese to each of them, and secretly loosened their gags and bondages a bit. Then he went back to looking tough, sharpening the knife as if he was about to slice metal. Rose then breathed into my ear: “if we were to help them free, I’m almost sure the one sharpening the knife would be the first to give consent,” she said, barely daring to open her mouth as she said it. “But they are all too big and dangerous to take on alone. We mustn’t let the children see us, lest they give out surprise upon spotting us here. One of us must stay to watch the camp and the children, and the other run for help. You stay. I will run back and tell mama and papa that I stumbled into the woods and found our little boys. I will then call upon the sheriff and have him bring some of his best-trained men and guns. We are up against very dangerous men, so we must be ready. Here--” she quietly tore a piece of her red dress and a piece of her white skirt underneath. “If anything happens and you get caught, leave down the red cloth. If they pack up and leave while I am away, leave the white cloth near a tree in the direction they went and follow along. Leave both the red and white cloths if you find a way to escape with the children into safety. I will try to be back within twenty minutes. Please stay safe.” And with that, she left, leaving behind only the two little colored fabrics and little reassurance. As soon as she had crept away, I turned toward the camp and spied for a long time. I saw the children bend over in hunger, and the knife-guy feed them with a vial of milk and some crackers. I saw the one with the money say to his partner: “it's eight hundred and thirty two, including the house we robbed on the way into town,” he said, eyes glinting in malicious greed. The other two laughed, but I could see the one with the knife wasn’t really into it. Then the three walked into the tent, saying they were going to discuss their next move. I saw this as my chance to creep in and at least assure the children that help was on the way. I snuck around the outside of the camp until I was still hidden by bushes but able to communicate with the frightened little ones. 

“hey….HEY!” I whispered, trying to get the kids’ attention without alerting the kidnappers. They finally heard me and turned around, their eyes lighting up when they saw me. “Elizabeth!!!” they said when they recognized me. “why are you here?” I scooted closer. “I’m here to get you out!” I said, and then looked at the two boys. “Andrew, Charles, your sister went back to town to get help,” I said. “and-” my sentence was cut off when I saw the worst sight I could ever see--an angry pair of eyes, crooked mouth with yellowed teeth and breath of stale ale. He grabbed me before I had any chance to get away. He then gagged and bound me and put me with the others. Then I heard: “We need to pack up and leave before another one wanders along and wrecks our plan,” said one. “take the kids?” asked another. “nah, we’ll ransom them as soon as possible, maybe make another hundred bucks if we can.” 

I watched in horror as the men began packing up. They were stuffing the last trace of the tent into the rapsack when I heard the most glorious noise. Scuffling through the forest. And then: “everyone drop your weapons and put your hands behind your head.” I heard weapons clink to the ground as men surround the campsite. Then Rose and her mother and father, my parents, and Darlyn’s parents came over and untied us all. We gave big hugs of joy, and the sheriff and his men led the way back to town, all three thieves tied up and being watched closely. Once more, at the crossroads, we said goodbye to the Coners’ and walked back to our house. Once home, father prayed for us and thanked God for keeping us and the whole town safe from the devil’s hands. Then, we ate supper and father read from the bible to us, before mother settled us into our beds to sleep. Just before drifting off, I thanked God for bringing me and the other children out of the campsite safely. I thanked Him that the thieves and kidnappers were tied up and behind bars, and I thanked Him that His son died and rose for me on that wretched cross.