PART 1 — FIFTY DOLLARS
The first thing Rosalie Ashford learned about being sold was that fifty dollars could buy a great many things.
A winter coat.
Two sacks of flour.
A month’s worth of whiskey.
A horse, if the horse was old enough.
And, apparently, a daughter.
Her father had called it a marriage.
Her brother had called it luck.
Rosalie knew better.
She stood before the cracked mirror in her mother’s old ivory gown while snow whispered against the window of the Ashford house.
The dress had once been beautiful.
Now the lace was yellowed, one sleeve had been repaired twice, and the hem had been shortened because Rosalie’s mother had been shorter than her.
It was the only thing her mother had left her.
Rosalie touched the faded fabric.
“At least you can’t see me now, Mama.”
Her voice sounded strangely calm.
