Free Dear Austin by Elvira Woodruff

catch sight of those yellow ribbons of hers. I stood watching and waiting as a pen was opened and an overseer cracked his big blacksnake whip.
    “Halls,” he shouted. “Elizabeth, Nell, and Parilee.”
    A woman came out of the pen with two little girls. The overseer cracked the “whip beside the woman's feet, and she nearly jumped onto the platform. The little girls held on to her skirts.
    “Now, we can sell ‘em as a lot, two thousand dollars, or we can split ‘em up,” the auctioneer called. “You're lookin’ at a healthy breeding wench, not a day over twenty. Take the young ‘uns as a pair, to be raised up for the house or field or however you can use ‘em.”
    The little girls clung to their mother, with their heads buried in her skirts.
    A trader stepped up to the platform and put on a pair of white gloves. He nodded to the woman, and the overseer cracked his whip.
    “Open your mouth,” the auctioneer barked.
    The woman opened her mouth, and the trader ran his fingers over her teeth, just like he was examining a horse.
    “Cupworms in her teeth,” the trader grumbled out loud. “She's closer to thirty than twenty. I'll give you five hundred for her, but I don't need the rest.”
    “Do I hear six hundred?” the auctioneer shouted. The woman began to sob and shake, and the little girls started to cry as they were pulled from her. I felt my stomach tighten into knots as I realized the only thing that was keeping me from being up there on that auction block was the whiteness of my skin. And you know, Austin, I looked down at my hands then, my white hands, and I felt such shame.
    “Son, if you ain't buying, you best make room for one who is,” a bearded man growled as he leaned beside me. His breath was hot and smelled of whiskey.
    I stepped to the side and heard a young girl's voice call, “Levi!”
    I spun around to see a dirty canvas curtain pinned over a set of stalls. I heard the voice again, but I couldn't make out the words. Was she calling “Levi” or “Eli”? Was it Darcy or someone who sounded like her? There were so many voices and so much noise it was impossible to tell.
    “Darcy,” I shouted. “Darcy, are you in there?” I suddenly recalled all the times I had told her to hushup, all the times I had wished she'd leave us alone and stop making so much noise, and I felt my heart twist in my chest at the memory.
    “Darcy!” I pleaded. “It's me, Levi. Just let me know if you're there.”
    I couldn't see the faces inside the stalls, and the overseer told me, “Move aside, and stop disturbing the stock.” Then he cracked his whip and lifted the curtain.
    “Stock”—that's how they think of them. That's how they were thinking of Darcy. How could these men, these grown men, be so wrongheaded, Austin? How does that happen? I may only be a boy, but I know the difference between an animal and a little girl. And to be truthful, Austin, these men were treating these people worse than animals.
    I stood on the edge of a trough so I could get a good look, but there were too many people packed in and not enough time to see them all afore the curtain came back down. The voice I had thought to be Darcy's was lost in all of the shouting and sobbing.
    When I realized that there were at least ten of these pens and platforms, with bidding going on all at the same time, my hopes sank. How could I watch all of them? How was I ever to find Darcy—if she was here? I dreaded going back to Jupiter with this news. But I knew he'd be anxious by now and so I headed back to the bushes where I'd left him.
    But when I got there, he was gone! I searched everywhere but couldn't find him. I was desperate with worry, and my head was reeling with questions. Had he gotten scared and decided to wait back in the woods? Had he hoped to hook back up with Moses and her group? Why hadn't he waited for me? It wasn't long afore I had my answers, for as I stood with my back to a platform, I heard an auctioneer call