Royal didn’t respond, but she pulled the money out of her pocket and handed it to Wade. She finished her coffee while she watched him unroll the bills and count them. Her grandfather remained silent beside her.
Seeming satisfied with what she’d handed him, he turned to leave.
“Hey, I think you forgot something,” said Royal.
Wade turned and for a minute looked like he was going to say something. Instead he counted off several bills and handed them back to Royal. She was due two dollars for each bottle she’d delivered as a driving fee. During a week’s time, two dollars a bottle really added up. A case would hold twelve half-gallon jars of whiskey, and when she removed the backseat of the car for larger loads she could carry almost twenty-two cases. That was some good money, and she’d been squirreling it away for when she felt like doing something besides driving.
Royal accepted the cash from Wade without getting up. Wade and her grandfather stored the rest of the cash in a collective spot to be divided later among other members of the family who worked the still.
Wade nodded to his father and left. She studied her grandfather’s tanned, weathered features for some clue as to how he felt about his only remaining son. His expression was hard to read.
Everyone said that part of the reason for Wade’s ill temper was that her father, Roy, had been the favored son. Some swore Royal was the spitting image of her father, Roy. She’d been told that she definitely drove as well as he did. No one would likely ever find out what really caused the accident that took his life.
He’d been alone in the car when it happened. They’d discovered his car upside down in a river ravine. It was unclear if he’d been killed upon impact or drowned. Royal shook her head to dislodge more dark thoughts.
“Why you shakin’ your head?”
“No reason.” Royal leaned back in her chair. “Doesn’t it ever bother you that Wade is so sour all the time?”
“It’s just his way. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
“I worry that his eternal bad mood is gonna run crossways with Boyd Cotton some day and we’ll all pay the price for it.” Boyd Cotton was the local sheriff, and for a small monthly stipend had agreed to look the other way on delivery days.
“What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling.” But that wasn’t the whole truth. Ned had confided to Royal that his father had been complaining about the payment to Boyd, which made her wonder how long he’d actually keep it up. Without the little extra cash incentive each month, she figured Boyd would have little inspiration to aid their cause.
“Wade knows better than to cross Boyd. Whether we like him or not, we need to stay on his good side.”
The chair beside her creaked as he stood.
“I’m going down to check the garden. Tomatoes might need to be staked.” He stepped off the porch. He had a slight limp as he moved. His left foot had been injured in a cook fire as an infant and never properly healed. A special insert had to be crafted for his boot so that it fit his misshapen foot.
“Do you need help?” Royal asked.
“Nah. I’m sure you got better things to do. You go on now and enjoy your Saturday.”
Royal decided breakfast and another cup of coffee sounded good. She headed back down the hill toward her house. At about the halfway point she saw someone walking up the hill from the road. She realized fairly quickly that it was Grace. She had caramel-colored skin, high cheekbones, and her lips curled into a smirk as soon as she caught sight of Royal standing on the path waiting for her.
It looked like she was carrying a plate of something. Royal knew that her breakfast plan had just gotten a heck of a lot better, because no matter what Grace was carrying, it was going to be tastier than what she could fix for herself. Driving was her gift, not cooking.
“Grace Watkins, is that a present for me?” Royal shoved one hand in her pocket. In her other hand, she cradled the empty coffee cup she’d carried from the house.
“It most certainly is not. Is your granddaddy around?” Grace playfully brushed past Royal toward the house at the top of the small rise.
“He just went down to the garden. So I guess I’ll have to relieve you of your package there.” Royal turned and began to follow Grace. She playfully tugged at Grace’s skirt as she followed.
“Royal Duval, you keep your wandering hands to yourself or I won’t so much as give you a spoonful of Momma’s peach pie.” She swatted at Royal’s hand, but missed.
“Peach pie! I love me some peach pie for breakfast. Grandpa won’t mind.”
They let themselves into the house. The screen door banged behind them as they went, and Grace moved around the kitchen gathering a plate and a pie server while Royal settled into a chair at the table. Grace’s mother had helped keep house for her grandfather ever since her grandmother had passed away. And every so often she made an extra cake or pie for Grace to bring over on the weekend. Grace had spent a lot of time in this house following her mother around while she cooked and cleaned. She probably felt as at home in this old wood frame house as Royal did.
“You’re too good to me, Grace.” Royal grinned as Grace handed her a generous serving.
“Too good is right.” Grace dropped into a chair across from Royal. “Sam told me you rolled your car.”
“Sam talks too much.”
“Royal, you need to stop taking chances. Daredevils live short lives, and I want yours to be long.” Grace reached over and touched Royal’s arm. “Who’s gonna aggravate me in my old age if you aren’t around?”
“I wasn’t
