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Millham Women: Kidnapped, Kept Ten Years
Millham Women: Kidnapped, Kept Ten Years
Millham Women: Kidnapped, Kept Ten Years
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Millham Women: Kidnapped, Kept Ten Years

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Three hard-hearted mountaineers snatch college freshman Kellie Kidler and fifteen-year-old twins Ann and Nan Furman, haul them away to an isolated shack, and keep them captive for ten years, using beatings and the loss of fingers as deterrents to escape. The three Millham women survive mainly by caring for the baby they delivered to a dying mother the night of their capture. Their story is doled out as they struggle to fit back into their former lives with a mingling of shame, romance, and humor. Kellie, especially, struggles with her Christian conviction to forgive the Millham man who stole ten years of her life.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAbbott Press
Release dateApr 15, 2014
ISBN9781458215178
Millham Women: Kidnapped, Kept Ten Years
Author

Dorothy Phillips

Dorothy Alease Phillips, the author of MILLHAM WOMEN: Kidnapped, Kept for Ten Years, has written the sequel, AGONY TO BLISS, to “tell the rest of the story.” Phillips’ brief biography is presented at the end of the book.

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  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    This book has so many errors that I couldn't get through it. Grammatical errors as well as spelling errors. And it was supposed to be taking place in 2009, but aside from the technology, it feels like it's in the 50's because of the words people use and the way they talk which made it extra hard to get through. It really needs to either ditch the tech and go full 1950's or maybe have someone who understands the 2010's to help the author with how young people actually talked then. It also badly needs editing. It says Office instead of officer many times, for example.

Book preview

Millham Women - Dorothy Phillips

Copyright © 2014 Dorothy Phillips.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Abbott Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Abbott Press

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.abbottpress.com

Phone: 1-866-697-5310

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1518-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1517-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905926

Abbott Press rev. date: 4/14/2014

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Special note to my readers –

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my beloved family:

My adored husband,

the late Dr. Chester R. Phillips

whose love for the Lord and for people,

coupled with his great sense of humor,

brought joy into my life

and into the lives of many.

My sweet, deceased daughter, Cindy;

My two sons and their families:

Dean and Marilyn and their four children -

Nick, Tyler, Zachary, and Cindy;

Kent and Marianne and their three children -

Logan, Chet, and Vince;

and four great grandchildren –

Ava Marie, twins Jacob and Michael, and Harper Gene.

All have brought happiness into my life.

"All your children shall be taught by the Lord,

And great shall be the peace of your children."

Isa. 54:13

I have no greater joy than to hear my children walk in truth.

3 John 4

Acknowledgments

Special thanks go to family members and friends who have read my essays, short stories, and novels and have encouraged me to write and publish. Though, probably biased in their kind opinions, they have been a blessing and inspiration.

For my trusted proofreader and consultant, Cindy O’Driscoll, who often discussed my characters with me as though they were real people, I express my delight and appreciation.

To computer experts, Jeff Massey, Coni Sansom, and David McClure who served as technical advisers, when I needed more than word-processor procedures, thank you. You helped me finish the job.

To Nancy Harper, the professional photographer who found a dilapidated house and braved the inside to take a picture of an old iron bed, unmade and still intact: all ideal for the cover of Millham Women.

To Charity Lyons, who as Kellie, portrays in her expression the agony of the ten lost years.

Preface

The unbelievable became believable on May 6, 2013, when three young women and a child in Cleveland, Ohio, were freed after being held captive for ten years.

Three years earlier, I had written Millham Women and discussed my similar plot at a writer’s conference. At that time, the audience thought it unlikely that such a lengthy captivity could happen in a modern-day setting.

When I learned of the tragic Ohio ordeal, I decided to release my book. I hoped to do so quickly so that readers would not assume that my story, which is fiction, was built upon the Ohio tragedy. Unfortunately, several submission problems have hindered the publication until this 2014 date when, at the present, two books revealing the true story of the Ohio women are being written.

Millham Women brings to life the fictitious account of three young women and a little girl after being rescued from ten cruel years of deprivation - little heat, no running water, electricity, or contact with the outside world.

Only a mixture of family love, rekindled romance, and humor could make the book an enjoyable reading experience while the horrors of the lost years are intermittently revealed.

I cannot recall what triggered the plot of this story, but it played out in my mind. How difficult it would be to be robbed of teen-year dreams. How impossible it would be to forgive.

Chapter 1

Ten-year-old Witchie sobbed as she ran toward the barn, dodging the huge clods of dried mud her 38-year-old brother hurled at her. T’aint fair! T’aint fair! she cried.

I’ll show you what’s fair, Butch Millham, screamed as he scooped up another hardened lump.

Please, Butch. Please leave her alone, a frail young woman with matted red hair pleaded. She’s only a little girl. In rage, Butch turned and flung the mud toward the rickety porch where three women cowered. The three scrambled away as the clod crashed against the broad-slab wall, spewing sharp fragments.

Git in that house before I give you what you need, the man bellowed. With unusual agility for a broad-shouldered six footer, he twirled, spitting on the ground and using his sleeve to wipe spittle from his bushy beard. Without another word, he clomped toward the shack, hardening a ball in his hands.

The three women edged toward the door, ever watchful lest they be pelted again before they could gain refuge within the house. Once inside, they scrambled to their punishment wall and slid down, dropping their heads upon their knees. The 28-year-old-redhead, Kellie Kidler, and the 25-year-old twins, Nan and Ann Furman, had learned survival techniques over the past ten years. Now, they slumped mutely, deep in agonizing thoughts, not daring to cry.

Kellie was remembering that fateful day a decade earlier. She was only a block from her college dorm when, suddenly, a screeching vehicle jumped the curbing, pinning her to the ground. A door opened and rough hands yanked her inside a smelly van. Two sweaty men wrestled her to the floor and taped her mouth and ankles while the driver sped away. When she struggled, the stringy-haired one snapped open a switch blade. Make another move, girlie, and I’ll slit your throat.

Kellie pulled away, tearing flesh on jagged sharp metal that had been left when seats were removed. She lay in a fetal position, terrified.

The two men then crouched near the windows, scouting for more prey.

We gotta get two more, Butch Millham, the driver said. That one’s mine. She’s got red harh. I like red harh.

I like red harh, too, his brother, Rosco, protested, turning to run a calloused hand through Kellie’s curls.

Butch snapped. Shut your mouth, Rosco. I’m the oldest and I git first choice.

Moments later, Rosco pounded Butch’s shoulder, shouting, Thar! Look thar! Two of ‘em. Two of ‘em. Let me out!

Butch swerved to the right, crossing the curbing and knocking two frightened teenagers from their bikes. In moments, twins Ann and Nan Furman were tossed inside the van, struggling and screaming. Once their mouths were taped, however, only their pathetic sniffles could be heard.

Kellie, Ann, and Nan huddled together during a long drive, mostly over rough terrain that often slung them from one side of the van to the other. Hours later they were carried into a crude, dirty shack and dumped roughly onto a splintered floor.

Butch towered above them, scowling, Now, this is the way it is. Our pa died last month and our ma’s belly’s ‘bout to bust. She needs help. Me and the boys don’t know nuthin’ about birthing. That’s one reason we got cha. The other reason is we need wives. He grinned, showing a mouth of brown teeth. Yeh, yer gonna be our wives. Yeh, the Millham women! Ain’t that great?

A shrill screech halted his ranting. From a dark corner, weird, almost animal-like whimpers followed. Butch yanked Kellie to her feet. That’s Ma-2. Git over there and do something for her.

Although none of the girls knew anything specifically about bringing a child into the world, they hovered over the emaciated woman, trying to give her comfort.

Get us some hot water and clean cloths, Kellie turned to say to Butch.

I kin heat you some hot water, but we ain’t got no clean things. Ma-2 ain’t washed nuthin’ in a month of Sundays.

Well, you get the water and some scissors, and we’ll try to find something.

When the three men left the room, the twins were told to check through a shabby, unpainted chest of drawers. They found the chest almost empty. In the bottom drawer, however, Nan lifted some neatly folded rags. Beneath them, she discovered a Bible. Look, she whispered. She must have hidden this. Hearing scuffling feet, she stopped speaking and hurriedly replaced the Bible and piled the rags loosely over it. Quickly, she closed the drawer and stood.

Rosco stormed into the room and gave Kellie a hard shove against the wall. Quit yer messin’ around and do something for her!

We will. We will, Kellie said, rubbing her shoulder. Just…just bring me the water and then you three go wait on the porch. It might be too crowded in here.

Ma-2, Rosco said, listen, Honey, we’ll be on the porch. These here women are gonna take care of you. He scowled at the twins and laughed when they cringed.

The woman in the darkened corner groaned, Help me. Please help me. Help me please!

Together, the three girls tried to relieve the small woman’s suffering, but something was terribly wrong. Ma-2, as the men called her, moaned and writhed, grasping her stomach. Remembering television shows, Kellie tried to encourage her to breathe intermittently and to push when the pains came.

Whenever there was a lull between the intense pains, Ma-2 motioned for Nan to lean down so that she could whisper into her ear. Nan’s eyes grew big each time the desperate little lady whispered. Sometimes, Nan’s mouth gaped open. Trying to get everything in order, Kellie read horror in Nan’s eyes but pushed aside questions, knowing she could get answers later. Intent on helping Ma-2 she went to the chest and removed the rags that had covered the Bible.

These cloths are clean. I bet Ma-2 had these laid aside for this time, she said as she placed them beside the scissors. She glanced up at Ann and whispered, Hide the Bible, nodding approval when she saw the young girl slip the Bible under the bed.

Taking a damp cloth, Kellie wiped Ma-2’s brow. "My, you are a pretty woman she said, soothingly, noting the way Ma-2’s black hair grew into a perfect widow’s peak on the center of her ivory brow. She ran her fingers over the perfectly shaped eyebrows and across sculptured, high cheek bones.

Ma-2 blinked thick, black lashes and smiled through tears. And then the pain hit again, causing her to clutch her bulging stomach. As Kellie covered the small cold hands with her own hands, she shuddered, realizing that both of Ma-2’s little fingers were missing.

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After eight grueling hours, the baby finally came, feet first, gushing forth blood. Ann jerked off her white t-shirt and tried desperately to stop the bleeding. Nothing helped. Trembling, Kellie cut the cord, made a crude tie, and lifted the still little body. Remembering movies again, she spanked the baby, hoping for a cry. When the cry sounded, the dying mother’s bony fingers clung to Kellie’s arm. Take care of my baby, she pleaded. Promise. Please take care of my baby. Then she slipped away into death without knowing she had a baby girl, a baby girl with thick, black hair like her mother’s.

Seemingly out of character, the three Millham boys knelt around their dead mother’s bed and sobbed loudly. At length, Elmo sank to the floor and, clutched his knees, and rocked back and forth. Rosco plopped down on his stomach and lay, slobbering on folded arms.

Ann trembled. If he glances under the bed, he will see the Bible. She scolded herself: Why didn’t I put it under something? Suddenly, Butch stood and screamed, Kill that brat. Kill ‘er!

Trembling, Kellie hugged the sticky little body close to her heart. She feared standing up to Butch; yet she whispered, Surely, you heard your mother. She made me promise. She begged me to take care of her baby. Please. Please let me keep her….for…for your mother’s sake.

Whatcha gonna do with her? Butch stormed. She ain’t worth nuthin’ and how de heck do you think you can get Ma’s work done with a brat to care for?

Work? Kellie had not thought of work. Now, she promised, I’ll find a way. I’ll do everything you want me to do. Maybe…. She hesitated, afraid to cause trouble for the other two kidnapped girls. Maybe these girls can help once in a while. We could take turns.

Butch turned to look at his younger brothers who had struggled to their feet at the sound of his voice and now sat slumped over the kitchen table, averting his gaze. He kicked a chair leg. Hey, you two. Whatcha think? Can these women keep the youngun? Ma-2 told them to take care of her.

Rosco and Elmo grunted, trying to forget their ma was gone.

Butch slapped Elmo’s head. Answer me, you numb skull. Do we kill this brat or keep her?

Before Elmo could answer, Rosco said, Keep ‘er. It might keep those three yappers quiet.

Butch whirled around. Aw-right. You can keep ‘er, but I get to give her a name. I say we call her Witch, Witch ‘cause she killed our ma. Ma-2 was the only person in the world that wuz ever good to us. She loved us. She taught us some letters and numbers and things.

The three women said nothing as Butch lunged close to Kellie and roughly poked the infant with a dirty finger. The baby cried out, and Kellie cuddled her close, trying to muffle the sound.

Shut her up! You can keep the little witch, but she had better not git in my way.

25092.png

And thus began the life of little Witchie Millham. The three kidnapped women swapped times, keeping the baby quiet and out of sight as much as possible. They added ie to the name Witch, attempting to make a pretty sound.

Twice during the ten years, they tried to escape from their horrible existence, but the punishment had been too severe for them to try again. First, they suffered bloody stripes upon their backs; the second time, each lost a little finger.

Determined to educate Witchie and to let her know that a better world existed outside their sordid environment, the girls devised a system of teaching. While one stood watch, the other two taught. The girls marveled at how quickly Witchie learned. Her inquisitive mind prompted her, at an early age, to whisper a question or to lead someone into the front yard to scratch words in the dirt. In constant fear of her brothers, however, Witchie hid her learning. When she cried out, T’aint fair, as she ran to the barn, inwardly she was thinking, It isn’t fair, wording she could not say aloud. She could spell, read, and work arithmetic; and whenever she was alone, she could sing under breath, Jesus Loves Me or God Bless America.

Butch stormed out again, jarring Kellie from her thoughts. He was hurling rocks and screaming at Witchie, Hurry up, you good-fer-nuthin’ brat!

Kellie slipped to the window and began to pray as the little girl trudged to the barn to fetch a 40-pound bag of feed. With Butch yelling again for her to hurry, Witchie tugged at the barn door. Before she could enter, however, a long arm from within grabbed her and a hand was clasped over her mouth.

Don’t be afraid, a man whispered. We’re here to help. Wide-eyed, Witchie glanced around at some people dressed all alike in blue suits with something shiny on their pockets and with guns on their belts. One of the men was unusual; he was dressed in a suit, and he had dark brown skin. Witchie had never seen a black man, but Kellie had told her about them. She stared at him until the first man gently turned her face toward him to continue, We are looking for some missing women. Can you tell me the names of the women we saw on the porch?

Witchie nodded, then muttered, Kellie Kidler. Ann Furman. Nan Furman. They had taught her their names but she had never said them for anyone. Loving the sound, she whispered them again. Kellie Kidler. Annette Furman. Nannette Furman. But we call them Ann and Nan.

The dark man stood and smiled. Guys, we’ve found them. Yes, we’ve finally found them! Let’s go. He looked down at Witchie, Honey, you stay here with Officer Harrel. She’s a good officer, he said pointing to a lady dressed just like the men. Child, you’re safe. I don’t know who you are, but that big guy can’t hurt you anymore. This place is surrounded. You just wait. You should be out of here in no time.

Officer Harrel took Wichie’s hand and led her to a bale of hay where she pulled the trembling child into her arms. Pressing her lips to Witchie’s head, she whispered comforting words. Witchie responded by snuggling closer and eventually rubbing her fingers over the coarse uniform’s texture. The officer smiled as Witchie moved slightly forward examining the uniform down to the polished shoes.

The girl made no sound until she heard Kellie calling her name. That’s my name. That’s my name, she whispered, looking up into Office Harrel’s face.

Stay here a moment, Officer Harrel said as she rose to check the door. Having peered out, she flung the door open and motioned for Witchie to come. She wanted the child to see Kellie, Ann, and Nan running toward the barn, laughing, crying, and shouting, Witchie."

The officer’s slight push sent Witchie racing from the barn to meet them. Tearfully, the three women grabbed her and dancing around, passed her from one to the other for hugs and kisses.

We’re going home, Witchie! We’re taking you out into the world we told you about. We’re free. We’re free! We’re free!

And for the first time, Witchie Millham giggled out loud the way a ten-year-old should giggle. Her new-born laughter caused Kellie, Nan, and Ann to laugh through tears.

Officer Harrel stood watching and wiping her face.

Chapter 2

The women were so overjoyed that they forgot about the Millham men until suddenly they heard Butch burst through the front door bellowing, Whar’s them women? I’ll kill ‘em’ I’ll kill ‘em with my bare hands! He turned to punch an officer who tried to yank him backward. Free for a moment, Butch leaped from the porch but was immediately tackled by a brawny policeman crouching nearby. Growling like an animal, Butch scrambled upward and kicked off his attacker as easily as a child might rid himself of a yapping puppy. He whirled around and, seeing the women, screeched as he bolted toward them.

Officer Harrel pushed the ladies behind her and stood, legs spread apart, pistol drawn. She did not shoot, however, for from every direction, officers rushed from the woods, quickly surrounding Butch. Numbers meant nothing to the infuriated Butch. Like a madman, he swung his fists and kicked wildly, sending three officers to the ground before several strong men were able to subdue him.

Two muscular officers led Rosco, handcuffed and struggling, from around the house. He spat at a policeman standing nearby. Elmo, however, stood silently on the porch with a lone policeman by his side. He walked down the steps when he was slightly nudged. Then, as they were instructed, the three handcuffed men dropped down on the edge of the porch, awaiting the police cars that were slowly grinding their way up the mountain.

Butch mocked the officers that stood in the yard. You, numbskulls, it took ya ten years to find us, and it only took us a few minutes to grab these gals. Whar ya been?

Rosco chimed in. We were in an’ outta all yer towns taking all kinds of stuff an’ ya never even saw us.

He leaned over to Butch and the two guffawed. Noticing that Elmo was not joining them, Butch scowled,

What’s wrong with ya, Elmo? You skeered?

Elmo shook his head and, glad to change the subject, said, Here come the cars! They made it, but I bet they stripped them transmissions just like Pa did.

After a couple officers had talked with the driver, they came to the porch and asked the Millham men to stand. Other officers seemed to move in place just in case there were problems. Butch lunged one time and said Boo! but his movement was no joke to the officers who yanked him backward, one grabbing him by his collar. All three men were then crowded into the first police car. Although the windows were closed, Butch and Rosco could be heard arguing. Elmo, seated next to a window, glanced up and made eye contact with Ann who, tearfully mouthed the words thank you.

A slight smile touched his lips as he lipped back, I love you.

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When the second police car came for the Millham women, Kellie was placed in the front with a female officer, Darcy Williams, who tried to keep a calming conversation going. In the back seat, wide-eyed Witchie huddled between the twins, being both terrified and exhilarated with her

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