Helene came for Anne at dawn the next day. She gave her a handful of feed and led her out to the yard where a rusty pickup truck waited, its tailgate down. In back was a large wire cage.
“Get in.” Anne crawled inside and she fastened it shut.
Anne knelt in the low cage, her hands tied behind her. The wire floor was hard on her knees, but toward the cab a square of cardboard softened the ridges and she crawled forward. Helene started the engine and drove off down rutted dirt lanes that rocked the pickup sideways, tossing Anne against the walls of the cage.
Anne spread her knees as wide as she could to brace herself, all the way to both sides. This stabilized her on the bumpy road. And it opened her up pleasantly; she felt the cool morning air between her legs and looked forward to the day’s adventure.
In time they came to a large shed where two men waited. Anne backed out of the truck – they seemed to enjoy the sight, she heard them talking – and Helene drove away leaving her with the pair.
The older man led her to an iron plow and harnessed her to it. She was to spend the day breaking the field before them into rows for winter crops. He would steer the plow and call out her instructions; the younger man – well-built, Anne liked the sight of him but lowered her eyes when he saw her looking – would hold the whip and keep her moving.
They entered the field and began. Rain made it a slippery gumbo; at once she fell and got her first taste of the whip on her thighs and a shout to get moving. They resumed the journey.
Anne could not go as fast as they liked in her harness without falling now and then; soon she was covered in thick mud. Each time she fell she rose under the boy’s lash and continued.
She wished her hands were free, for balance and to brace herself when she fell. It would make her job so much easier. No, she needed grueling tasks and bitter punishments to overcome her self-willed nature, everyone knew that.
Thinking this, she tripped on a rock and felt the whip to her buttocks. She rose and proceeded humbly.
The field was already furrowed from last season’s planting; her job was to straighten them. She could not help comparing them with her own and remembered Hector’s “Deep enough for you?” comment to the hired man.
After a hot morning of work and falling on her face a dozen times, enduring the whip and getting up again to a volley of curses over her incompetence, they drove her like an ox back to the shed for lunch.
The younger man wiped her face with a bandana and stood before her with his pants opened. She knew what this meant and took him in her mouth at once.
He offered her to the older man who said not now, he was saving her for tonight. She thought her task was done; but no, a third one emerged from the shed. He bent her over a tractor tire, drew her cheeks apart and plunged into her from the rear.
She cried out more from surprise than shock; this seemed to stimulate him so she made little yips each time he drove deeper until he came. It was plain sailing now that Helene had opened her up. She lay still for a minute, enjoying the warmth of his seed until he pulled her up by her hair.
The men amused themselves by tossing scraps of food into the tall grass for her to find. Soon she was quite good at this. And motivated; she was very hungry after her morning’s work.
The afternoon was like the morning, with Anne straining to pull the heavy plow through the wet earth. They made her go faster and she fell more often in the mud, but she was used to that now and almost enjoyed the strokes of the whip as she struggled to rise. They returned her to the shed an hour before sundown.
The pickup truck was nowhere in sight; but the mechanic had the tractor working again and offered them a ride back to the farm. They attached Anne’s leash to a short chain in back, the two men climbed on the running boards, and they took off. Barefoot and afraid of falling, Anne followed them on her chain.
He steered the tractor to a narrow country road and drove at a leisurely pace, a fast walk for Anne but no more. She was grateful to the driver for this kindness. Cars behind them were treated to the sight of her until the tractor could move to the side and let them pass.
In her former life Anne would have recoiled at this indignity, but she was over that now and welcomed the opportunity to display herself for the pleasure of strangers. She laughed when a chunk of dried earth fell from her breasts onto the road.
When they reached the farm, she knelt before the men and thanked them; she hoped she had not been too much trouble. The older man said “See you tonight” and walked away.
The young man told Hector that Anne was “below average”; she was mortified at this, but could not guess his meaning. Pulling the plow, or when he used her.
Helene hosed her off and scrubbed the crevices where dirt clung stubbornly. Anne was covered with marks of the boy’s lash and she applied rubbing alcohol to each of them. They stung, but Anne reveled in the touch of Helene’s fingers on her bare skin and was sorry when it ended.
Her hair was hopelessly matted; with a pair of heavy shears Helene cut it short before soaping and rinsing it.
She took Anne into the barn. A hired man suspended the iron hook from the roof pulley; they hung her up by the wrists to dry and left her alone with the other animals.
Exhausted from her labors, Anne slipped into a dreamlike fantasy.
She was a sinner, denounced to the Inquisition and sentenced to be burned at the stake. She hung on a post in the village square. It was just, it was right, she deserved the worst of punishments.
Townspeople of all ages emerged from their houses bearing sticks of wood and chunks of coal (which burned hotter), and piled them around her legs.
Helene appeared in the door of the church with a blazing firebrand; all smiles, she applied it to the fuel at Anne’s feet which caught at once. A priest tightened the chain at her waist binding her to the post.
Anne looked down to see her fleece burst into flame; she tried to scream but could not.
She woke to find a hired man holding her waist while Helene slacked the pulley and released her from the hook.
Helene inspected her – yes, she had dried off except between her legs but she was almost always wet there. She led Anne back to her stall, chained her up and filled her feed bowl with a generous portion.
Anne touched her head to the ground in thanks. For her dinner, but also for giving her work to do today; it was good to be of value to someone, even strangers. She wondered if she would be put to the plow tomorrow.
Helene turned to leave; behind her, Anne heard the hired man say “Six or seven of us tonight” and Helene reply “Be good for her; grease her up first.”
They left. Anne took her dinner and lay down to rest, full and contented. She liked her short hair; it gave her a boyish appearance. She tried to guess if Francesca would like her better this way.
An hour later she heard the barn door open and lay on her back to welcome visitors.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A few days later, Francesca returned to collect her girl. At dinner that evening while Anne knelt beside the table, she described the events of the summer at Mr. Schuyler’s estate: how she met Anne, was hired as her trainer, and received her as a gift when Anne would normally have been strangled. Hector wondered that a shrewd businessman like Mr. Schuyler would simply dispose of such a useful property.
She explained that girls picked up the names of his customers and overheard trade secrets and business plans. He had to terminate them himself or give them to Sir Nigel where they spent a few weeks in close confinement before being “seen to”. Giving Anne to her was a great favor and a mark of his trust.
“Also, Anne’s the first girl to be worth anything after he’s done with her; they’re usually worn out by then,” Francesca added. “She’s still pretty lively.”
Hector looked at Anne. “Hmm, tell you what. You’re not going back till tomorrow morning – ” Francesca nodded – “leave her with us tonight.”
Francesca removed the end of Anne’s leash from the table leg and handed it to him.
The next morning Anne followed the couple downstairs. She knelt on the kitchen floor with lowered eyes while they appraised her over breakfast. Helene joined in with questions. Anne lapped up water very quietly from her bowl.
The county fair was last month. Hector said it was a shame Francesca missed it, she could have set up Anne in a tent at the edge of the field. Her girl had an aptitude for it, no doubt.
He suggested breeding Anne for some of the childless couples nearby. The hired men could do stud service and she was welcome to live in the barn until she was ready to calve. Francesca promised to consider it, though later she told Anne privately it was out of the question.
Francesca packed her in the car and drove back to her apartment building with no more explanation than before. She was happy to be back in the coal bin and hear her collar fastened to the chain with that satisfying click.
In the afternoon Anne lay on her mattress frowning as she tried to figure Francesca out. She knew she should not do this – it was none of her business and her owner would be angry if she learned – but Anne could not help it. She wanted to know, and something in her would not rest. From her earliest childhood she was used to asking questions and demanding explanations from her parents, her tutors, the servants.
She would hide her thoughts from Francesca, that was another fault but she could probably get away with it. She and the other girls at school did that all the time, concealing their activities in the dormitory after lights out. Except for a couple young teachers who joined them and were part of their games when they – no, she must not let her mind wander.
Her owner did not kiss her today or put a hand on her in the car. Did that mean something? Maybe not, she was busy taking leave of her parents and then driving. But sometimes she kissed Anne after chaining her up. Just an oversight? She was usually so meticulous about these little customs. Anne could not decide.
And why take Anne to the farm at all? Perhaps she wanted to be alone with someone for a week. No, that was not like her and it would be a very short-lived affair. Unless something else turned up to make it likely, that possibility had to be rejected.
Just to plow the field? No, couldn’t be, they have a tractor; it was faster and better.
Or was it part of Anne’s training? Sleeping on straw in the cold, put over a hay bale or a tire and used by country yokels; Helene’s familiarities, the parents’, all to cure her of the highbrow attitudes she grew up with.
And to show Anne her fate if she did not learn to behave: hung up by her heels and – and – treated like a pig. She took a deep breath. Well, if that was the end Francesca wanted for her it would be hard but she would try to accept, even welcome it.
Anne could not reason it out and eventually gave up. She really had to stop thinking this way, she should know better. She used to have perfect self-control at work, it was slipping away from her. She ate some pellets and lay down to rest.