Chapter 1: Transplanted from her home after her mother’s death, the girl was left to fend for herself. Her father, overwhelmed and hardened by years of poverty and instability, barely regarded her. Her father’s new wife ignored her while tending to her natural children with a feathery vigilance. Unnoticed, the girl often wandered off, sometimes sleeping on the porch of the general store. Awakened by the cold, she would curl up tight, tight as a little pilled hedgehog, and shiver until the frosty darkness lulled her back into a fitful sleep. It was 1919 in Wise, Virginia, and Margaret Christine Hamilton was five years old…

Chapter 3: Martha was appalled by Margaret’s dirty appearance and obvious malnourishment. She had heard reports through the family grapevine about the neglect. And yet the deprivation that had been inflicted on the poor girl was shocking.

“Come here, little one,” Martha said. Her wagon was a meager thing, not much more than a cart, barely requiring four wheels. To Margaret, though, it seemed huge. The wheels surpassed the height of her head.

“Who are you?” Margaret said.

“I believe you are Margaret. Is that right?”

“Yessum. How’d you know that? And who are you?” Margaret demanded. Martha smiled. The girl was fragile yet firm. Martha discerned whispers of Cynthia.

“I’m your Aunt Martha. I’m your mama’s half-sister, honey. I’m here to take you to your grandparents. They want you home.”

Chapter 4: Big Stone Gap was a little nub of a town nestled amongst rolling hills. It was founded for its coal and iron ore deposits, like many other settlements in Appalachia. The inhabitants generated a lot of wealth for their corporate overseers and a little money for themselves. Big Stone Gap’s heyday was forty years before Margaret’s time, but compared to Wise, it seemed remarkably large to the little girl.

The town was more than twice the population of Wise, and boasted a huge general store with a sprawling porch. The pharmacy had its own Western Union telegraph office and a small cafeteria. Several little pert motels with colorful flower boxes lined the main street…

“Howdy,” a rugged looking man said. “I’m your Uncle Ike.” Margaret peered up at him. He was barrel-chested and flaunted a thatch of thick wavy hair. Margaret sensed he was a good fellow, but she was overwhelmed by all the attention. She shyly looked down at the ground. Ike crouched to her eye level and gently tilted up her chin…

Several years later when Margaret was near 15 years old…

Margaret did not bother to introduce George to the Bullions. They already knew him, and to Margaret’s bafflement, they did not seem to care for him. When Margaret pried for their reasons, Mama and Grandpa would obfuscate. Uncle Ike was more forthcoming, but his reasons still seemed vague to Margaret. Aunt Martha had not spoken of George since she had warned Margaret to steer clear of him.

“He’s a snakey fellow,” Uncle Ike would say…

…And so, one sunny day, after they had charioted Mrs. Miller on one of their town jaunts, George asked Margaret to marry him.

Of course, she said yes. She was delighted but not surprised. He was already a part of her life, a part of her thoughts, a part of … her.

…And with that small blossoming glimmer of acceptance, with that tiny little mustard seed, Margaret understood she and the children had to leave immediately.

…Ike took Margaret and the children to the bus station. It was a tiny brick building with a few benches. Big Stone Gap was just a little waystation within the spiderweb of America’s new and growing bus network. The door was locked. There was no service until eight the following morning, and no staff was on site. Ike sighed. He and Margaret decided it was safer to wait together during the night in the buggy than to return home. Margaret was certain George would show up any minute. And indeed, she was correct. Less than an hour after Ike and Margaret took off, George was at the door with the sheriff, demanding that his deceitful wife produce herself with the children.

… “You can go to Iowa if you want. But don’t forget, you can sew like a dream. You’ve sewn many a quilt. You can work a sewing machine like a mechanic works a wrench. And if you can’t find a nice textile job, you can wait tables. Those auto men gotta eat.”

“Well, I suppose I can try out Detroit. But how do you know so much about it?”

Uncle Perry Bullion, Grand Father Andrew Jackson Bullion, and Uncle Bill Bullion.  Photo taken in Big Stone Gap in 1935.

Margarett Hamilton Riggs flees to Detroit and finds work in a Carhartt Factory as a seamstress.  The stories she entertains her daughter, Ella Mae, invites the FBI into her life and changes her journey to seek another path.

Margaret married George Riggs at 16 years of age and gave birth a year later to a girl (Ella Mae – 1931) and a boy (A.J. – 1934) in the town of Big Stone Gap, Virginia.  Photo taken in Texas on their journey to Phoenix and ultimately Mesa, Arizona.

Noah Hamilton is Margaret’s Older Brother.  They were separated after their mother died, but reunited in Big Stone Gap.  Photo taken in Mesa, Arizona in 1950.

Clockwise – Noah, Ella Mae, AJ, and Margaret.

Mesa, Arizona