Out of the Ugly

By Emily Rose Pearl

With her mother and father gone, Mary is forced, at the tender age of seven, to endure a childhood of abuse, prejudice, and hatred. Being daughter to a Native American father and white mother, she faces hardships after her parents pass and is subjected to attack as she works at a local store. She remembers the words of her Native American father: “Keep your spirit strong, no matter what they do to you.”

Life seems almost hopeless for young Mary, until she is rescued by the “Uglies.” They care for her and save her from what was certain doom. She still does not feel loved or accepted until she meets Benjamin. Their friendship grows into forbidden love. The hatred against Mary continues, but she never lets the abuse break her. She stands strong, determined to stop the prejudice and hate that she endures from the locals.

Mary—keeping a strong spirit and sense of hope—is kind, gentle, and caring. Due to her sweetness, she does win acceptance, finds love in the arms of Benjamin, and conquers the ugliness of bigotry. Mary embodies the spirit of strength and hope, never to be beaten down but to overcome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Jan 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781489746153

Emily Rose Pearl

Emily Rose Pearl has had a contributing article published in a medical journal and wrote for a Veteran’s Administration newsletter for several years. She hopes this story, inspired by the life of her great-grandmother, will bring inspiration and strength to many, so they too may be able to say, “I am an overcomer!" She lives in the southern United States and enjoys spending time with family and friends. This is her debut novel.

Book preview

Copyright © 2023 Emily Rose Pearl.

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 author except in the case

of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of

The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.

LifeRich Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.liferichpublishing.com

844-686-9607

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 Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4456-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4457-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4615-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023900631

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 01/23/2023

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Author’s Note

Questions for Thought

PREFACE

My mother and I spent many hours on my front porch. She would talk excitedly while I wrote furiously. Her words were about her grandmother’s life. My mother insisted that I must tell my great-grandmother’s story. After listening to my mother talk about this incredible woman’s life, I knew she was right. My great-grandmother was born to a white mother and a Native American father in the late 1800’s. Her story is about her fight for acceptance, the war she waged on prejudice, and her battle against the odds of forbidden love. My mother made me promise her I would share these stories. This novel was inspired by these stories, allowing me to keep my promise to my mother.

Just as important, I am sharing the spirit of hope, inspiration, and the strength to overcome. The influence of my great-grandmother’s life has given me these gifts, especially during the times I just wanted to give up.

Overcoming is never once and done in life. It is a journey, a lifelong process, in which, time after time, we refuse to give up hope and stay determined to keep our spirit strong.

CHAPTER

ONE

Half breed, half breed, taunted the children in the small country store. They skipped in circles around Mary, as if they were at a pow wow, screaming hiya, hiya and hitting their mouths with their hands.

Mary Wun—what kind of name is that?

Wha’d ya win, the contest at the county fair for the dirtiest injun in town?

Huh, Mary Wun, huh?

Many of the townspeople in the crowded store stopped in the middle of getting their supplies, looking on, laughing. Some even joined the circle.

This morning, one of the customers asked her name. She proudly told them, My name is Mary Wun, spelled w-u-n like my father’s.

The ridicule that followed was heartless and cruel. Mary, only eight years old, was determined not to lash out or let them see her cry.

To avoid their harsh glares, Mary would bow her head and look at the floor of the store that she swept every day. She focused her gaze on every knot in the wood, memorized all the cracks, and could follow the path that had worn the wood bare. She hid her tears under her long black hair. They filled her dark brown eyes. Her fists were clenched around the broom. Each passing hour seemed unbearable, and every day was worse than the one before.

Hey, you, hurry up and get that floor swept! Mr. Mason broke through the circle, knocking her to the ground. Startled, Mary ended up against the wood bin. She would have yet another bruise and more pain. Yeah, and get them boxes filled with wood! Mr. Mason was the owner of the only country store in the town. The people depended on this store for all their supplies.

The store was full of customers, many of whom would not come close to Mary because she was a half breed. They called her a good-for-nothin’, stinkin’ injun and often spit on her. Mary smelled like the pigs, chickens, and mules she was forced to feed. She was only allowed to bathe once a week in the water left in the tub after Alma, the Mason’s daughter, had bathed. At the end of each day, Mary washed her face and hands in the animal water troughs after she fed them. She had found an old comb on the ground. Some of the teeth were missing, but she hid it in the hem of her skirt so she could get the worst of the dirt out of her hair when she had a moment to herself. Mrs. Mason, the store owner’s wife, in a rare moment of kindness, had given Mary an old rag to wrap around her hair, whispering in Mary’s ear, "Don’t tell no one I gave this to ya or we both be in trouble. Tell ’em ya found it on the ground. Ya hear?

I promise. Mary smiled for a moment, thinking, I have something of my own.

Mary remembered her mother lovingly brushing her hair—one of the many reasons she missed her so much. She treasured those memories. Her mother would say, We have to brush a hundred times to keep it shiny. Then she would fix Mary’s hair in a beautiful braid. Those long days on their farm had been full of hard work, but her mother always took time every night to brush her hair.

When the young girls of the town came to the store, they mocked Mary mostly because of her dark skin, but they also taunted her about her injun hair. She one bad-lookin girl, and she’s always stinkin’ and dirty, one of them said. Glad we don’t look like that. Or smell like it, another said, and they giggled among themselves.

But one day, Mary overheard Mrs. Mason whisper to her daughter, Alma, when they opened the store that morning, I sure wish ya had Mary’s long black hair and beautiful dark brown eyes. Mary watched Alma get up and stand over her mother, "So, you like that dirty, no-good injun’s hair do ya? She turned on her heels and stomped through the store.

The next day, Mary was bent down scrubbing the shelves when she felt her hair being pulled from behind. Pain shot through her head. I’m gonna cut ya hair off! I should scalp ya like ya injuns do! Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Just then, she heard Mrs. Mason walked into the store. Alma,what ya doing with that? Don’t let me see ya with that knife no more! Ya gonna hurt ya self." Mary dared not open her eyes, but she heard Alma’s loud screams as Mrs. Mason dragged her to the back of the store.

Mary was just opening her eyes, letting out the breath of fear, when a loud voice boomed from the entrance of the store. She heard footsteps coming toward her. Every muscle in her body froze.

Ya ain’t gettin’ them shelves clean right. Don’t ya injuns know nothin’ ’cept how to smokum peace pipe? The kick from his big boot on her side would add to her bruises.

It was Willie! He was Mr. Mason’s son, known as the worst bully in the valley of Sheltsville, Pennsylvania. He loomed heads taller than the other children and weighed twice as much as the other twelve-year-old kids. He especially made it a point to poke fun at Mary. He would make a show of pulling her hair, or he would trip her while she was sweeping the floor. He would push her into the flour bags so hard that they would tear. Mary would go hungry that night as punishment for spilling the flour.

Keep your spirit strong, Mary, no matter what they do to you. These were the words her father told her over and over again. They echoed in her mind as the memory of his face appeared before her.

Willie bullied her more than any of the other children. His other form of entertainment was watching other children cry after he beat them up, his laugh like the wind from a dark pit. His victims almost always limped away bleeding. Once, one of Willie’s schoolmates made the mistake of calling him William, the name used only by his parents. The poor boy was not able to go to school for a week, not only because of the beating, but also for fear that Willie would strike again. Mr. Mason said it was just boys playing rough. The customers in the store said nothing. Mary heard them saying they were scared to death that, if they said anything, Mr. Mason would hurt them and would not sell them any supplies.

Willie’s favorite taunt to Mary was, Ya good for nothin from good for nothins. Mary would keep her head down when he said it, but he would scream, Look at me when I’m talking to ya, or I’ll make it so ya have to! Mary would shake as his eyes shot through her like bull’s horns piercing through her.

She wanted to tell Willie about her father who had fought in the white man’s Civil War and died from his combat wounds. She wanted to tell all of them about how her mother had worked hard on the farm to keep her family together but died trying. It wouldn’t make a difference, though, no matter how much she longed to be accepted. Her father was Native American, and her mother was white.

Some mornings, Mr. Mason would force Mary to sit on the front counter of the store as if she was an item for sale. He would beg the customers to take her with them, Don’t anyone want to take her? You can get a lot of work out of her if you keep her in line, if you know what I mean. He would wave his