Minnie Mae's Pigs

By Margaret Melva Oldroyd

September 1903 

When Minnie Mae was fifteen, she fell out of the hay loft. Luckly, she fell into more  hay. Unfortunately, her head hit the hard wooden handle of her father’s pitchfork.  

In the week before, her parents had drilled into her mind the importance of feeding  the pigs. “Minnie,” they said, “you’ve lived a spoiled existence. You will feed the pigs every  day.” So, being the obedient child that she was, fed the pigs every day. Even with her head  injury she’d make the trek out to the pen then spend the rest of the day groaning in pain  

until she fell asleep.  

June 1905 

Butcher Billy inherited his father’s business. His father’s health had been declining  since Billy was fifteen—slowly getting sicker, weaker, and more tired. Billy had already  taken over as the town butcher in every way that mattered, but it wasn’t until his father  passed that he changed the sign from “Butcher Billy and Son” to plain “Butcher Billy.” 

Billy was practiced at his craft. He was known for all cuts of meat, but especially for  pig. Depending on the pig you brought in, Billy could get you the best bacon, ham, and pork  belly you’d ever tasted. He also happened to be the most eligible bachelor in town. 

August 1904 

By sixteen Minnie Mae’s head injury was distant memory. Only the ones closest  could tell you that ever since that day in the barn, Minnie had been different. It was almost  as if she started aging backward, throwing childlike temper tantrums. From the outsider’s perspective, however, things seemed quite the same.  

August 1905 

Billy was only nineteen, but that didn’t stop the town mothers from throwing their  daughters at him. None of it mattered anyway. Billy had only ever fancied one girl—Minnie  Mae, the petite blonde whose parents had just passed, leaving her an orphan and the sole  heir of the farm. Minnie Mae used to have two younger siblings, but both had died from  whooping cough before their second birthday. Now, she was just a quiet 17-year-old who  lived alone on her dead parents’ farm. 

The road into town for Minnie Mae was well maintained in the spring and summer. It  rarely rained, making the packed dirt road perfect for riding her bike. It was a blue bike with  a wicker basket hanging off the front handlebars, often sporting fresh-cut flowers. On the  ride into town, Minnie would sing to herself and breathe in the dusty, dry smell of the road. 

When she got to a part of a song she loved, she’d throw her head back, stare at the  cloudless, blue sky, and belt it so loud the birds would take flight. Then she’d laugh. 

Saturdays were Billy’s favorite —that’s when Minnie came into town. Strictly  speaking, she didn’t need to come that often, but Billy wasn’t going to complain. He  couldn’t help but notice she stopped by before her other errands. She never needed any  meat, but she would stay and chat with Billy for a while—about the weather, the strange  disappearances, how her farm was doing, how the shop was doing, etc. 

Billy would spend slow days at the shop planning what he would say to Minnie in  their next Saturday chat. In his bold daydreams, he told her he wanted to court her. He’d  say how he’d thought it all through—she was lonely, he was lonely, and they were good  company for each other. Even though he wanted to, there was no precedent for this. He  couldn’t call on her through her parents, and he wouldn’t want people to think he was using  a poor orphan girl. Minnie Mae liked Butcher Billy fine, he was good at taking care of pigs,  and that was important to her.  

The disappearances were worrisome, but almost everyone agreed it was the work of  an outsider. The town was small, and they all saw each other at church on Sundays. Gossip  spread quickly. It would have been impossible for anyone to get away with a secret that big.  That didn’t stop Billy from worrying about Minnie Mae on her farm all alone. When the  

farmhand went home at night, she was vulnerable. 

October 1904 

There had been one day Minnie Mae hadn’t fed the pigs. It was back when she still  had her parents. The slop bucket was empty and there was nothing to give them. She didn’t  want to disobey; she had been told to do it every day, so she did. Minnie’s mother’s scream  was the loudest thing she had ever heard, it had given her a terrible migraine that lasted the  rest of the week, and there was a lot to clean up, but the pigs got fed.  

1905 

Minnies parents themselves had gone missing. She was more susceptible than  anyone else. This is why he always ended their weekly conversations with, “Bye now, Miss  Minnie Mae. You be careful out there.” 

She would just give him a small smile and nod. “Don’t you worry about me,” she’d  say. She was so selfless that Minnie Mae.  

Minnie Mae’s farmhand was still alive. He was frightened of the farm, but especially  of Minnie Mae, she had recovered from her parents’ disappearance too quickly. It didn’t 

make sense that one day they were there and the next they were gone. He came in the  mornings and left as quickly as he could, avoiding Minnie Mae the whole time.  

When it came time to slaughter the pigs, Minnie was in town more than usual. Billy  was ecstatic. Billy was more in love with Minnie than ever. As he butchered the pigs in the  back room, with the metallic scent of blood filling his nose, he made his decision. He was  going to ask Minnie Mae to marry him. 

As he was writing out the script for how exactly he would propose, he kept getting  distracted by disturbing findings. And Billy was a butcher—he was used to the disturbing.  But he was sure of it. Partly digested human remains. In Minnie Mae’s pigs. 

It dawned on him all at once. Minnie Mae’s farmhand—he was killing folks and  dumping them in the pig pen. 

Billy didn’t have time to take off his apron. He rode out to Minnie’s farm as fast as he  could. Jaw clenched and brow furrowed, he galloped down the packed dirt road, dust flying  up behind him. He pounded on the door with poorly contained terror. 

Minnie answered slowly. She wasn’t used to visitors. 

“Minnie,” he panted. “Marry me.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?” 

“Your farmhand… he’s a murderer… in the pigs’ stomach… marry me… I can take care of  you.” 

“Come on in. You look like you could use some water.” 

The silent house was silent. It was dark; the shades were drawn. He sat at the kitchen  table. 

“Sorry it’s so dark, I’ve been sensitive to the sun ever since I hit my head a few years back.”  Billy blinked at her. “I think we should…” 

“I could never leave my farm Billy. I’m sorry, it needs me.” Minnie Mae said with something  close to regret.  

“Minnie Mae, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you must listen to me. Your  farmhand is killing people and feeding them to your pigs. We must leave.” 

“Billy,” Minnie said slowly while her fingers wrapped around her favorite knife, “my  farmhand isn’t in charge of feeding the pigs. That’s my job.” 

Minnie Mae really had liked Butcher Billy. But standing outside the pig pen in her new  favorite apron, it looked like the pigs liked him more.

By Margaret Melva Oldroyd