Betty and Mary.

 Nine-year-old Betty and twelve-year-old Mary Henderson climbed out of their bedroom window on the night of October 3, 1941, carrying a small bag between them, and walked seventy-two miles through the mountains of West Virginia to find their father, who was working in a coal mine in another county.

He had no idea that their mother had died three weeks earlier, nor that Betty and Mary had been placed in the care of their uncle, a cruel man who beat them, locked them in a closet, and told them their father no longer wanted them.

The sisters decided that if their father knew what was happening, he would come for them — so they would go find him and tell him themselves.

They climbed out the window and walked all night, all the next day, and the following night. Both sisters arrived alive at the coal mine, found their father, and collapsed into his arms crying.

Their father had no idea his wife had died, that his daughters had effectively been taken away from him, or that Betty and Mary had walked seventy-two miles alone to find him.

Betty and Mary Louise Henderson’s mother had died of pneumonia on September 12, 1941. Their uncle, Carl, took the girls home from the hospital where their mother had died and told them that their father was “away on business” and could not be contacted, and that they would now live with Uncle Carl.

When Betty and Mary asked when they would see their father again, Uncle Carl replied:

“Maybe never. Your father doesn’t want you. He sent you to live with me.”

The girls could not believe it. Their father loved them and had always loved them, but they were only nine and twelve years old, had just lost their mother, were terrified, and did not know what else to do except obey.

Uncle Carl was cruel. He beat them for small mistakes — for not washing dishes fast enough, for speaking without permission, for crying over their mother. He locked them in a closet when he went to work, leaving them in darkness for eight hours without food, water, or a bathroom, and warned them that if they told anyone, he would beat them even harder.

After three weeks of this, Mary told Betty:

“We have to find Dad. Dad doesn’t know Mom is dead. Dad doesn’t know we’re here. If Dad knew, he would come get us. We have to find him.”

The girls knew their father worked at a coal mine somewhere in the north. They had heard their mother mention the name “Blackstone Mine,” and Mary found it marked on a map at Uncle Carl’s house, about forty-two miles north through the mountains.

Mary told Betty:

“We’ll walk there. We’ll leave at night when Uncle Carl is asleep. We’ll go to Dad and tell him what happened, and Dad will take us home.”

Betty was frightened, but she trusted her older sister completely.

On the night of October 3, 1941, after Uncle Carl locked them in their room and went to sleep, the sisters escaped through the window. Mary had tied bedsheets together to make a rope because their room was on the second floor.

They climbed down and ran into the woods before Uncle Carl could discover they were gone.

The girls walked all night along a road leading north toward Blackstone Mine. They walked barefoot because Uncle Carl had taken away their shoes, saying they did not need them unless they left the house.

After the first ten miles, their feet were cut and bleeding, but they kept walking because they had to reach their father.

They traveled for two days and one night, hiding at times because they feared Uncle Carl might be searching for them, eating berries and drinking from streams, carrying only a small bag with extra clothes and a photograph of their mother.

Betty cried from pain and exhaustion, and Mary carried her on her back for miles when Betty could no longer walk.

On October 5, the sisters finally reached Blackstone Mine and asked the workers where they could find a man named John Henderson.

One worker pointed to a man covered in coal dust emerging from the mine shaft. Mary ran to him and cried:

“Dad! Dad, we’re Mary and Betty! Mom died and we’ve been living with Uncle Carl, who hurts us, and we walked fifty miles to find you!”

John Henderson had been working at the mine for six weeks and had no idea his wife had died because no one had informed him. Uncle Carl had never contacted him.

John fell to his knees, embraced his daughters tightly, and wept.

He had not known Louise was sick. He had not known she had died. He had not known his daughters had been taken from him.

All that time, he had been working in a coal mine more than one hundred miles away, sending money home every week, unaware that the money was going to Uncle Carl, who was abusing his daughters and locking them in closets.

Betty and Mary Henderson lived with their father for the rest of their childhood. John left his mining job and returned to his home county so he could stay close to his daughters.

Betty lived until 2015, passing away at the age of 83. Mary lived until 2018.

At Mary’s funeral, her granddaughter said:

“My grandmother Mary was twelve years old when her mother died, and her uncle took her and her nine-year-old sister Betty, beat them, and locked them in closets. My grandmother and Betty escaped through a window and walked seventy-two miles barefoot through the mountains to find their father, who did not even know their mother had died.

They walked for two days. They were nine and twelve years old. They walked seventy-two barefoot miles to save themselves because no adult would save them.

That is courage. That is what children do when the world fails them: they save themselves.”