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It had become a common occurrence around the drought ravaged farms of the valley. Small time farmers without any other recourse were forced to sell their daughters to whoever would be willing to pay something close to the asking price. Margaret Stephen’s father was such a man. His youngest daughter was his little angel; unlike her older sisters he had been unable to ever bear taking his belt to her when she misbehaved. Not that she was exactly a brat; she was just a bit willful at times. Also unlike her sisters, Margaret wasn’t much good for working on the farm. Not even five feet tall with her shoes on, five pounds shy of a hundred, with glasses, fair skin that burned easily, and a natural prissiness that she had always possessed meant that she wouldn’t be any help outside.
Inside with her mother didn’t help either. The tiny girl had no head for cooking, she’d managed to burn or ruin just about everything she touched in the kitchen. Her older sisters were getting proposals of marriage, even in such a desperate time, which meant fewer mouths to feed for Margaret’s father. At fourteen, Margaret was still a year or two off from being ready for marriage, and she was such a skinny little thing most men wouldn’t be interested in her because she wouldn’t get any good for work or child bearing.
Worse still, Margaret was incredibly well-read. She was the only one in her family that liked school so her father had allowed her to stay on after the fourth grade. Though it was a small rural school, many of the teachers realized that if they’d had an honors program like the big schools in the city, Margaret would have been at the top. This would only frighten away the local farmers’ sons, which suited Margaret just fine. A late bloomer, she wasn’t really interested in boys yet and wasn’t afraid to say so.
It was with a heavy heart that Mr. Stephens began inquiring about possibly buyers for his favorite little girl. He didn’t have to wait long. Coincidently, there was a man at the local general store who was working his way across the region looking for girls about her age to work as house servants “up north.” Mr. Stephens wanted to believe the man. His little girl would be able to continue her studies, be provided for, and even send back any extra money she made. Reluctantly, he agreed to meet the man at his farm to “discuss things further.”
Mr. Stephens watched the approaching cloud of dust coming down the road. It was nearly time. Was he doing the right thing? The aging farmer looked at his ramshackle house and the fields dying crops crying out for even a brief rainstorm. What choice did he have?
“Margaret! Come out here!” He called toward the house.
Margaret looked up from her book. What could her father want? Her mother and her sisters all came into the parlor from different doors, all of them giving her a strange look.
After a few moments her mother cleared her throat, “You best not keep your Pa waiting.”
Margaret nodded, “Yes, ma’am,” and hopped out of the chair and trotted quickly outside her long, brown, braided pigtails bouncing. The setting sun was bright making her squint. She could see a shiny new red pickup truck in the driveway. Her father and another man were shaking hands.
“Yes, Pa?” She asked from the doorway.
“Come on down here, sweetie,” her father smiled.
Margaret, a little shy around strangers descended the wooden steps off the porch warily.
“I’d like you to meet, Mr. Harvey.”
Margaret looked at the man for a moment, before dropping into a short curtsy, “How do you do, Mr. Harvey.”
Mr. Harvey just smiled and looked at her father. “You weren’t kidding. She’s just what my employers are looking for. I’m prepared to pay you five hundred dollars right now on the spot.”
Margaret’s ears perked up in alarm. “Wait, Pa! What’s…?”
Her father grabbed her arm roughly, “Quiet, girl! Don't you interrupt me while I’m discussing business!”
“That’s a hundred more than we agree on, I know, but I like you Stephens and I think that your daughter will be perfect for the job.”
His grip relaxed a bit as he looked at the ground, “All right…” He mumbled.
“But, Pa! What’s happening?” Margaret cried.
Still holding her, he replied firmly, “Sweetie, times is tough and I can’t afford to keep you around anymore. Mr. Harvey is going to take you up north to work as a maid.”
Margaret fought against her father’s grip but to no avail, “But I don’t know how to be a maid! Please, I’ll start helping around the farm more! I’ll…”
“No, sweetie, I’m sorry. If I don’t do this we’re all gonna lose the farm. Now, do you want that?”
Margaret was stunned into silence. Finally she shook her head and whispered, “No.”
Her father smiled, “That’s my good girl! Now, get in the truck with Mr. Harvey.” He led the tiny girl to the cab of the truck and opened the door. Mr. Harvey was already in the driver’s seat.
“But…what about Mama and Julie and…”
“I’ll say goodbye for you. Don’t worry, Mr. Harvey says you can write us all you want. Right, Mr. Harvey?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
Margaret sniffled, “What about my things?”
“Don’t worry, doll!” Mr. Harvey laughed. “You’re going to get all new things at the estate.”
“But…”
Her father put his hand to her mouth, “That’s enough, sweetie. Now, give me a hug.” They embraced and shared “I love you’s” and in another minute Margaret and Mr. Harvey were out of the drive way and off down the road.
They rode in silence for what could have been minutes, but felt like hours. Margaret sobbed quietly as she looked out the window.
“Aw, come on, none of that.” Mr. Harvey said, chuckling. “This could be the last time you ride up front in a truck. You best enjoy it.”
Margaret was too busy trying to hold back her tears to question him. Mr. Harvey shrugged, turned on the radio to the news and continued on down the road in silence for the rest of the drive. They continued on into the night. At some point Margaret fell asleep. It felt like she’d just closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again the sun had just crested the horizon.
“Good, you’re awake.” Mr. Harvey smiled. “We’re here.”
Margaret looked out the window. They were in a large dusty field with a large rusty cattle pin in the center. On the opposite side of it there was a small cattle truck. Mr. Harvey drove to the end of a line of pickup trucks and parked the car.
“Okay, sweet heart” he grinned, “lets go.” He climbed out of the truck and came over to her side and opened the door. “Come on.” He said.
Margaret reluctantly stepped out onto the parched soil. Wasn’t she supposed to be a maid in a big house or something?
“Where’s the house?” She asked looking up at him.
“Oh, this isn’t the final stop, but this is as far as I’m taking you. Now come on.” He took her by the arm, not especially gently.
“Hey! You’re hurting me!”
Mr. Harvey chuckled, “Quiet down, we’re late already.”
He walked Margaret down the row of cars and trucks. They were halfway down the row when Margaret first truly realized that something was wrong. She first heard a girl’s scream, followed by sobbing and crying of others. Then her eyes caught sight of the source of all the noise. There was a group of men ahead most holding onto ropes and clubs. They surrounded a group of young girls about her age, some perhaps a little younger, and others a little older. Two men held a girl as another one stripped off her shoes, then socks, then blouse, then dress, then camisole and finally her underwear. And none too gently either. Once completely naked one of the men would cruelly twist her arm behind her back, grab hold of her hair and march her to the cattle pin and forcing her into the chute. Then they’d take another girl from the group and repeat the process.
Margaret began to fight against Mr. Harvey’s grip. “What is this? No! You can’t do this!”
Mr. Harvey’s smiled disappeared. “Quiet!” He growled as he shook her violently. Margaret had never been spoken too or handled in this way before. It scared her, and shocked her into silence. As they approached the group a large, potbellied, balding man broke away and approached them.
“You’re late.” The man said, spiting on the ground. Even from a few feet away the man smelled excruciatingly bad. Margaret wrinkled up her nose, likening his scent to rotting fish with a heavy undercoat of urine.
“But I got your last calf right here. And believe me, she’s a real pain in the ass!”
“Calf?” Margaret exclaimed, her fear rising.
Mr. Harvey tightened his grip on her arm and shook her again even more violently, reducing her to silence again.
The other man reached out with a grubby hand and held her chin between his thumb and fore finger.
“Cute, huh?” Mr. Harvey commented as Margaret pulled her chin free from his grasp, the scent from his filthy hands still clinging to her cheeks.
“Not bad...” the other man mumbled, stroking his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “I'll give you six hundred for her.”
Margaret was momentarily distracted from her inevitable sale by the scream of another young girl being stripped and shoved into the chute.
“Six hundred? I had to pay five hundred for the little bitch!” Mr. Harvey exclaimed, pulling Margaret up on her toes and brining her back to her own plight. “Eight hundred and not a cent less!”
The other man spat on the ground again, “Seven sixty, and you're breaking me!”
Mr. Harvey hesitated a moment, his grip loosening slightly.
“Deal!” He exclaimed and pushed little Margaret toward him.
Caught in his embrace, the stench of the other man was overpowering. Margaret renewed her struggles, more frantically than before as she was lead toward the men standing in front of the chute. Through her tears and hysterical screaming she could see that there were no girls left outside. She was next.
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