Whiskey Sunrise

by Missouri Vaun

  “She’s been a very conscientious driver while I’ve been in the car, Sheriff. But thank you for your concern.” Lovey tried to keep her voice even, despite the fact that she felt protective anger rising in her chest for Royal.

  “She’s polite, Royal.” He stood and adjusted his hat before he reached over and pulled at her collar near where the lipstick smudge glowered at Lovey through the windshield. “Your taste in women is improving.”

  Lovey felt her cheeks flame hot as he turned and nodded at her through the open window. “Ladies,” he said as he began to walk back toward his car. Before he reached the car, he turned back. “Royal, you tell Wade he better come find me and settle up.”

  Royal watched Boyd pull away and drive toward town before she climbed back into the car.

  “I’m sorry.” Royal gave Lovey a pained look.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry that you had to be part of that.”

  “What was that about anyway?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’m gonna find out.” Royal put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road.

  “He noticed the lipstick on your collar.” Lovey tugged lightly at the soiled collar of Royal’s white shirt.

  “Oh, damn. I’m sorry about that too. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “It’s okay.” And she hoped it would be. But deep down in the pit of her stomach she feared that Boyd Cotton was not someone who kept secrets unless it suited him or unless he benefited from the secret in some way. She was afraid Boyd might hold this secret over her head like the blade of a guillotine.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Royal had been so rattled by the encounter with Boyd that she hadn’t made plans to see Lovey again. She’d felt bad that Boyd had tainted the afternoon by whatever he was implying. Royal hadn’t gone to find Wade either. She was in desperate need of a few minutes alone to sort through her feelings.

  After dropping Lovey at her house, she’d driven back into town and was now up in her rented room, seated in front of her typewriter. Papers were scattered in disorderly piles, each with a few lines of text or single words.

  Royal rolled a fresh sheet of paper into the Corona and hit the return until she was a quarter way down the blank sheet. She took a sip of whiskey and stared at the white space over the black ribbon as the liquor warmly slid down her throat.

  She leaned forward and allowed her fingers to hover over the raised keys for a moment before she began to type. The pressure and the recoil of each keystroke was as soothing to her soul as her mother’s embrace. She watched the words slowly reveal themselves, lightly embossed into the previously unblemished sheet.

  Sometimes she started with only disconnected words.

  Sometimes she began by typing small sets of words, bits of ideas not yet fully formed.

  The scarlet hue of virtue.

  The slanted, tangled earth.

  The insistent heart.

  She took another small sip of whiskey before returning her fingers to the keyboard.

  Possibility, like a door left slightly ajar.

  She thought of nothing and everything at the same time. Her mind hummed with considerations of what might be. She was falling for Lovey. She’d known it the first time they’d kissed. And the more time she spent with Lovey, the more her feelings were confirmed.

  Royal leaned forward, her head in her hands, and exhaled a long, slow breath.

  Lovey Porter, what have you done to me?

  ❖

  As the seven o’clock hour drew near, Lovey regretted that she’d so quickly agreed to let Joe stop by. Spending a little time with Royal on the drive home had done nothing but confirm her growing feelings. And now she’d put herself in a situation where she was going to have to entertain a male caller, when that was absolutely the last thing she felt like doing. In contrast, her father had been very pleased to hear that Joe was calling on her.

  At seven on the dot, Lovey heard Joe’s old farm truck turn onto the gravel drive. She’d made lemonade and carried a tray with two glasses out to the generous front porch. Joe smiled and removed his hat as he stepped up. After a brief greeting they settled into rockers, with the lemonade on a small round table between the two chairs. Their talk was polite and cordial, covering topics as riveting as the weather, horses, and planting cycles. Lovey knew on some level that Joe was trying to find topics that would be safe yet friendly, and at the same time she found it hard not to just blurt out some topic that might be considered salacious, but might actually give her some indication of his true character. With Southern men she knew you had to peel several layers of the onion back to get to the heart of what they thought. But tonight she was feeling a little tired and sad. The exploration of Joe’s soul would have to wait for another evening, if it happened at all.

  They lingered on the porch together under the waning sunlight for an appropriate amount of time, about an hour. Then Joe thanked her for the lemonade and bid her good night. There was an awkward moment as he stood to leave when she thought he might ask her to go on a date or something, but he didn’t say anything and she didn’t encourage him to.

  After she watched the headlights of his old truck retreat and turn onto the main gravel road, she gathered the empty glasses onto the tray and carried them back into the kitchen. Her father was sitting in the dimly lit study, next to the silent radio, with an open book in his hand as she passed by on her way to the sink. Annoyed, Lovey wondered how much of her conversation with Joe her father had listened to through the open door.

  “Did you have a nice visit with Joe?” her father asked.

  She peeked around the door frame from the warmly lit kitchen. “Yes. Were you listening to our conversation?” She tried to temper her question so that the tone wasn’t as accusatory as she’d felt it.

  “Only a little. Don’t be angry. It’s a father’s job to worry over his daughter.” He shut the book he’d been holding. “A father wants to be sure of the company his daughter keeps.”

  If only you knew, thought Lovey. “Well, I’m going to bed early to read. Have a good evening, Father.”

  “Good night, sweetheart,” he called after her, but she was already headed down the narrow hallway to her room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Royal ejected the sheet of paper from the typewriter, crumpled it, and tossed it across the room. There were several wads of discarded work already there to keep this newest addition company.

  Maybe she should go find Ned and do something to get her mind off Lovey. Their shared moments were completely taking over every conscious thought. She’d sort of lost her appetite, she was daydreaming at odd hours, and now she wasn’t able to string a decent, complete thought together on paper. She stood abruptly, almost toppling the chair.

  Maybe she’d sipped more whiskey than she realized. Her head spun a little, and she figured she’d better lie down for a little while before driving. She was just about to slip out of her shirt and boots when she heard a soft knock at the door.

  A young boy stood outside her door as she opened it.

  “Mr. Duval wants to see you.” The boy was rail thin, his overalls stained at the knees, and his shirt collar frayed from many washings and likely handed down to him from an older brother. Royal recognized the boy. She’d seen him around the town square, but in the moment couldn’t call forth his name.

  “Mr. Duval junior or senior?” Royal rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear the fog settled into her gray matter.

  “Um, both I think. They was both there at the table down at the Mill.”

  “All right then. You run on back and tell ’em I’ll be along directly. I just need a minute to collect myself.” Royal pushed the door closed as she heard the boy scuttle down the hall toward the stairs.

  The watch in her pocket showed nearly ten o’clock. It was later than she’d thought. Sometimes when she was thinking and writing it was as if time sped up. She’d lose hours and not notice their passing as she sat with her thoughts. Royal poured some wat
er into the basin that stood in the corner of the room and splashed her face with cool water. That helped. She toweled off, took some papers from the table, shoved them into her leather satchel, and headed out into the night.

  Walking to the Mill seemed like a more judicious plan, given her head was still a bit fuzzy. She’d rolled the Ford once already in the past two weeks; she didn’t relish the idea of doing it again.

  The night was fully dark. A couple of gas lamps burned at the street corners near the marble courthouse casting an eerie glow in the thick, humid air.

  The Mill was a nickname for a drinking spot on the other side of town. It had been a gristmill once, long before she was old enough to pay attention to such things. For as long as she’d been running deliveries for her grandfather, it had been a gathering spot for local men. She usually only stopped there when she either had a case to deliver or she knew her grandfather was inside. As was often the case, because of the way she dressed and the fact that she did what most would consider men’s work, the townsfolk treated her a bit differently. Mostly, the men weren’t sure sometimes how to behave around her. She acted more like one of the fellas. Women weren’t always sure how to respond to Royal’s uniqueness either.

  She knocked at the heavy door of the Mill, and someone peeked around the edge of the door, hesitating for a moment before stepping aside and allowing Royal entrance.

  The interior was dark and heavy with smoke and the smell of tobacco. Royal nodded at a few of the men she knew as she crossed the room toward a table at the back. Small clusters of men stood or sat along the wall; some leaned back at an angle in straight-back chairs. Low voices and indecipherable murmurs surrounded her as she stepped up to the long plank table where her grandfather and her uncle Wade were seated.

  Royal scanned the room one more time as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Drink?” a buxom woman who was tending to the patrons asked.

  “No, thanks, June. Nothin’ for me,” said Royal.

  “Okay, sugah, just let me know if you change your mind.” June’s round form swept past her as she gathered a few empty glasses onto a scuffed tray.

  Royal placed her hands on the table, waiting to find out why she’d been summoned. She hadn’t spoken with Wade or her grandfather about the conversation she’d had earlier with Boyd Cotton, and she didn’t relish the thought of calling Wade out on it in front of her grandfather.

  Her grandfather sat across from Royal. His hat hung on a peg along the wall over his shoulder. He seemed older somehow, and tired. Royal wondered for a moment when he would step aside and hand things over to Wade. Royal watched the dynamic between father and son play out across from her. Wade, always challenging, always demanding attention by being the loudest voice in the room. Insistent that other men respect him, while the senior Duval carried himself as a man who knew he was respected. Men stood up when he entered a room. They sought his counsel. Duke Duval was universally liked and admired, whereas Wade was tolerated.

  Wade finally spoke. “Where you been all day?”

  “Around.” Royal was intentionally vague. She wondered if the sheriff had run across Wade already, in which case Wade likely already knew where she’d been.

  “We got a big a delivery tomorrow night. I wanted to make sure you came by the farm early to load up.” Her grandfather took a sip of the brown liquor in his glass. “It’s a full load. Ned will need to pull the backseat out, so get there early enough to do that.”

  Royal nodded. “Is that all?”

  “Yeah.” Her granddad studied her from across the table. “What’s the rush? You got somewhere else to be?”

  “No, I’m just feelin’ a bit beat. I thought I’d head home.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Wade stood up.

  Damn. That didn’t sound good. He never did anything for the sake of politeness or good manners. He wanted her alone for a minute. Well, she’d already announced she was leaving, so there was nothing to do but stand and allow Wade to follow her to the door.

  It took stepping out into the clear night air to realize how poor the air quality had been inside the old mill. Royal stopped a few feet from the door and turned to face her uncle.

  “You avoiding me?” Wade stepped close, looking down at her.

  Yes. Royal rocked back on her heels. “No.” Maybe now was the time to mention her encounter with Boyd Cotton. “The sheriff said you need to pay him a visit.”

  “What?”

  “I ran into Boyd Cotton earlier today and he said that you owed him something.”

  Wade seemed agitated by the message.

  “You paid him, didn’t you?” Royal had been having suspicions lately that Wade had been making decisions that he wasn’t sharing with her grandfather. The deal had always been that her grandpa paid the local boys to not necessarily look the other way, but at least not try very hard to interfere with their moonshining. Prohibition had gotten repealed a while back, but that didn’t mean anyone was ready to pay taxes on home brew. Not by a long shot. As a result, lately, the hills had seen an influx of federal revenue officers, and it only made sense that Boyd and his crew would expect payment now more than ever if they were going to run any sort of interference for the Duval clan. Boyd was probably after a raise to compensate for the extra hassle.

  At the same time, she knew Wade to be greedy, and she’d seen him argue more than once with his father over the amount they paid the sheriff and his boys. Royal figured the minute Wade had his way, he’d keep all that payoff cash to himself. She suspected that was already beginning to happen and that’s why Boyd wasn’t happy.

  “Well? Do we owe Boyd or what?”

  “Listen, Royal, you drive. That’s all you do. And try not to break any glass jars while you’re doing it. And then collect the money. That’s all you need to worry about.” He poked a finger into her chest just below her collarbone for emphasis. “You understand? I’ll deal with Boyd.”

  “No, you won’t, Wade. If you start messing things up we’ll all be dealing with Boyd and probably worse.” The federal boys had no connection to the local community. They’d smash your still, riddle your car with bullets. Hell, she figured they’d shoot your dog just for barking at them.

  “You’re gonna have to get used to dealin’ with me soon enough, Royal. You best come to terms with it. I ain’t gonna be runnin’ things as loose as Pop does. I can tell you that.”

  “Well, you’re not running anything yet, Wade.” She wasn’t trying to bait him, but her words got an instant reaction. He grabbed the front of her shirt with both hands, jerking her forward.

  “We’re gonna come to an understanding, Royal. One of these days—”

  “Hey, Royal.” She turned to see her friend Frank walking toward the Mill with another fellow that worked at the feed store. His presence caused Wade to drop his hold on Royal. She pulled at her shirt, smoothing the front down with both hands.

  “Hiya, Frank. Nice to see you.” Royal stepped back from Wade. She could tell he was angry, but whatever message he had been about to deliver had been cut short by the appearance of an audience.

  Frank slapped Royal on the shoulder. “Come in and have a drink with us.” If Frank had any idea of what he’d interrupted, he showed no sign of it. He turned and nodded in Wade’s direction. “Evenin’.”

  Wade simply nodded in response, his expression dark and angry.

  “Thank you, Frank, but I was just headin’ out. Another time?” She began walking away from them toward where she’d left her car a few blocks away, near her rented room. Wade made no motion to follow, so she began to relax.

  “Sure thing. Catch you later.” Frank looked back at her as he pulled at the heavy door of the Mill.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The high curved roof of Royal’s Ford offered good visibility along the dark back roads. She kept an eye on the side roads for the sudden appearance of headlights and was equally watchful of any lights that might appear in the rearview mirror. The sedan was
heavy on its feet as she snaked along the sixty-mile winding road from Dawsonville to Atlanta for the evening run. It was after midnight, and Ned was in the car with her. Her other passengers were several cases of clear liquid in glass jars where her backseat should have been.

  She’d wanted to stop by Lovey’s house before making this run, but not with Ned in tow. Pulling out the backseat and loading the car had taken longer than she’d expected, which got her off to a late start. Royal hadn’t seen Lovey since the afternoon they’d made out in the backseat. She blushed at the thought of it as she and Ned heaved the heavy broad bench seat out of the car to make room for more liquid cargo.

  It seemed particularly dark tonight, the sedan’s headlights doing little to illuminate her path, given her speed. Luckily, Royal knew this winding road from memory. She knew every curve and just how fast she could take each, depending on her load and the weather conditions of the road.

  “So, have you seen the bee charmer lately?” She heard the joking tone in Ned’s voice as he asked.

  “Why, as a matter of fact I saw her yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. I gave her a ride home. I like her. I’d like to see more of her.” Royal downshifted as they came into a sharp turn. “When are you going to get yourself a girl so you can stop askin’ about mine?”

  “I’m studyin’ on it.”

  “Oh, studyin’ on it. Is that your romantic method?” Royal punched Ned’s arm. “No wonder you’re still single. Well, maybe you’ll see someone that catches your eye tonight when we make this delivery. The last time I was in this joint there were some cute girls in the fray.”