Joe Cartwright barely registered his aching leg muscles or burning lungs as he ran, terrified through the woods. He was nearly home which compelled him all the more to keep going, keep fighting the branches and vines that lashed at his skin. He had to get home; he couldn’t give up. All he thought of as he ran blindly through the thick brush was getting home to warn his pa and brothers.
The sunlight was just barely starting to brighten the sky above the dense canopy of trees. It was dawn, but the forest floor was still dark, making it almost impossible for Joe to see anything. He simply kept going forward in the direction of his home, ignoring the painful slaps and stings as well as the occasional tumble.
At last he made it to the clearing, but as he neared
the ranch house he tripped again, falling forward and scraping his hands and
knees as he landed. Get up, he told himself. Quickly he rose, not even taking
time to wipe the sweat that was stinging his eyes. He had almost made it to his
feet when suddenly he was pounced on from behind. With an overwhelming sense of
dread he realized that the terrible, ferocious monster had caught him. “Pa!” he
tried to scream, but to his horror no sound came out. “Pa! Pa! Help!” He tried
again, but for some reason his voice was no louder than a hoarse whisper.
The beast wrestled him, its thick arms trying to pin
him in place. Joe could feel the beast’s hot breath on his cheek as it held him
tightly, trying to still his movement. Desperately he tried pushing it away,
swinging his arms and kicking out, fighting as hard as he could to break free.
The house was so close; if he could just get the monster to let go for a
second, he was sure he’d be able to make it home.
But the beast held on with a tenacious grip and
began shaking him and calling his name. “Joseph!” it called over and over in
what he soon recognized as a strangely familiar voice. Joe paused his struggle
for a moment, trying to figure out how the beast could know his name, or how it
could make its voice sound just like his pa. “You’re okay, Little Joe,” the
voice murmured. “Shhh…. Pa’s here. Everything’s all right. Open your eyes,
son.”
Joe’s lashes fluttered and slowly he opened his
eyes. It took a moment for things to come into focus, but finally he was able
to identify the person looking down at him with concern and his body went limp
with relief. “Oh, Pa!” he cried, pressing his face into his father’s chest and
clinging to the fabric of his robe.
“It was just a dream, son. I’ve got you and
everything’s all right,” his father crooned softly as he held Joe’s trembling
body and wondered what on Earth could have frightened the boy so much.
~*~
After checking under the bed and in the closet and
behind every piece of furniture, then making sure the curtains were drawn
tightly together, Ben was finally able
to convince Joseph there were no giant man-eating rabbits in his room, or
outside his window. He sat beside his
son, stroking his hair until he drifted back to sleep. He waited several
moments before tucking the quilt around his shoulders then he dropped a kiss on
his forehead and quietly moved away from the bed.
“Giant rabbits? Really Adam, what were you
thinking?” Ben whispered as he stepped out of his youngest son’s bedroom,
leaving the door partially open and the lamp burning low.
“I just told him about the Easter bunny, Pa. How was
I supposed to know he’d have nightmares?” Adam scratched his head tiredly, a
bewildered expression on his face. “I just…I-I don’t….” he struggled for
comprehension. “It’s supposed to be a happy story,” he explained as he and his
father descended the stairs.
“A happy story? Giant rabbits that sneak into children’s
houses and strange hens that lay fancy-looking colored eggs?” Ben scoffed,
turning to his oldest and raising an eyebrow. “That sounds more like the
makings of a nightmare if you ask me, son.”
“But, Pa,” Adam halted at the bottom of the stairs,
looking dumbfounded. “All the children in Boston look forward to the Easter
bunny leaving them a basket full of treats on Easter morning. It’s supposed to
be…” he waved a hand in the air plaintively, “fun.”
“Fun? Surely you’re joking?” Ben laughed and
continued on toward the kitchen.
Adam sat down on the hearth, wondering how things
could have gone so wrong and trying to figure out how he could make his father
appreciate this wonderful custom that had grown increasingly popular over the
past few years? “They have Easter egg
hunts and get baskets of goodies,” he attempted when his father returned and
set a tray on the coffee table. “Who wouldn’t think that was fun?”
Ben glanced up the staircase
toward Joe’s room with a grim smile then took the kettle from the fireplace and
filled two teacups.
Adam sighed, realizing this
must have been how Columbus had felt.
“Sounds like the sort of thing concocted by chicken
farmers to ensure they sell an overabundance of eggs,” Ben commented wryly as
he sipped his tea.
Adam shook his head. “That’s utterly ridiculous…” at
his father’s raised eyebrows and pointed look, he cleared his throat and added,
“sir.”
“You think it’s ridiculous now, but mark my words,
boy,” Ben predicted, his voice resounding with gravity. “ If this so-called
custom is allowed to continue, there will come a day when nobody will even
remember the real meaning of Easter and,” he pointed his finger adamantly, “a
lot of rich chicken farmers will be laughing all the way to the bank.”