When they arrived at the hotel, Clark took Mary around back to the stables. He asked the holster where he could put the child, so she wouldn’t get into any mischief. The holster took Mary to one of the stalls in the back of the stable. The stalls were meant for horses, but they put Mary into one of them. Clark closed the stable door, “You stay here young’un, and don’t you be no problem or I’ll strap you good.” He turned and disappeared.
Mary looked around, she could hear the horses from the other stalls, moving around and blowing through their large nostrils. She could smell the horse manure all around her along with the sweet smell of clean straw. It was quiet in the stable; there were no other people around. Mary was glad, she had to relieve herself. She had held her bladder all day and until now, hadn’t realized how full it was. Clark hadn’t stopped the wagon, nor had he fed the children nor gave them water.
Going to the back of the stall, Mary dug a small hole through the straw, until she hit the dirt floor. Pulling up her shift, she squatted and began to urinate. The steam from it rose around her, and the sharp sting of ammonia bit her nose. She almost moaned with pleasure as the painful pressure was relieved. She used the straw to clean herself and covered the hole with dirt and straw.
Going back to the front of the stall, Mary sat down to wait. There was light coming in from the open door, but the stall was dimly lit. Her stomach growled. With all the commotion that morning, she hadn’t eaten a thing. She was also exhausted from the long ride and the stress and fear of being sold. Mary’s eyes soon grew heavy and she was fast asleep within minutes. Her small body curled into a tight ball; half buried beneath the sweet hay.
It was dark outside when Mary woke, she was disoriented and frightened. She was thirsty, sore and hungry. It was dark inside the stable except for a single lamp near the entrance of the stables. Mary wondered if she would be fed, she wondered why the mistress had forgotten about her. She started to chew on a piece of hay, her stomach hurt so much. Mary heard the stable door open at the other end. She scooted down into the hay, afraid of who it might be. She wasn’t use to being in strange places. She watched as a lantern moved toward the back of the stable, where she was. The lamp stopped in front of her stall, and a hand grasped the door. Mary almost screamed before she realized it was Clark.
Clark looked down at the child, half buried in the hay. The light from the lantern played over his features, making him seem even more sinister. Mary shrank down. Clark dug a chunk of bread out of his grimy pocket and threw it to the ground in front of her.
“Here’s your dinner, if Mistress Anderson asks you if you ate good, you tell her you did. You understand?” Clark snarled in a dreadful voice.
“Yeh suh, Missa Clark, I will.” Mary whispered, her hands remaining in her lap. She didn’t look up; she didn’t want to see his eyes and the malevolence behind. Mary was once again plunged into darkness when Clark turned and left. Mary groped around in the dark for the chunk of stale bread. It stuck on the way down her throat. For the first time in Mary’s life, she felt hunger and thirst, and it frightened her. She had listened to Old Bitsy tell stories about it, but it had been a fairytale to her until now. This had been a long bitter day of hard lessons; Mary hoped she would never have to live through something like this again.
The night was longest and loneliest Mary had ever spent. Fear was her bedmate and at each sound, Mary jerked awake. She made two more trips to the back of the stall, covering up her leavings. Mouth and throat were parched with thirst, it was difficult to swallow. Desperate, Mary left her stall, guided only by the single light in the stable. She found a bucket and dipped her hand down into the dark hole. Her fingers touched water.
Looking around her, she saw no movement, nor hear a human sound. She lifted the wooden bucket and tipped the contents forward. Her lips hugged the edge and she felt cold water hit her lips. She sucked in mouthfuls of water, gulping it down. The water was stale and a little brackish, but otherwise, the best that Mary had tasted in a while. She drank her fill, pausing to look around her for movement. Then, sated, she made her way back to her stall. She moved the hay around her and then covered herself, making a warm place. Mary slept fitfully, having nightmares about being sold at auction, or being ripped from her mother’s arms, throughout the interminable lonely night. When the sun came up the next morning, Mary felt she had aged years.
Her stomach hurt terribly, cramping with gnawing hunger. She rocked back and forth in the straw, hoping the Mistress would remember her. It was a few hours after daybreak and Clark came with a cloth napkin and cup of fresh milk. He shoved it into her hands and pulled her out of the stable.
“Eat it up quick gal, the Mistress is waiting.” He ordered in a surly voice. Mary greedily drank the warm milk and shoveled down the hot corn cake. She licked the napkin free of crumbs. It eased the hunger a bit, but Mary was still starving. She hurried along with Clark, trying to match his stride. They came around the hotel and found the Mistress waiting.
