Royal’s jaw clenched again, but then she spoke. “If by that you mean do I care about someone who’s earned my respect, regardless of skin color, then yes, I suppose I am.”
The larger man in front, the one who’d spoken first, made a move toward Royal, and without changing her stance, she lowered the revolver and fired a warning shot between his feet. The look of shock on his face showed that he’d doubted she would pull the trigger, until now. The sound of the discharged round pierced the night air, cutting through the muffled music that had been drifting through the alleyway from the piano inside the Mill. It echoed loudly across the wood-sided feed store.
The music stopped, and before the three men could respond, two figures came around the corner from where the entrance to the drinking joint was. One of them, Lovey recognized from the feed store, Frank Mosby. He stepped out of the shadow of the building and looked in Royal’s direction. Frank was a huge man, probably in his mid thirties. Backlit as he was from the filtered streetlamp behind him, he looked like Goliath. The second man who moved to stand at his shoulder was smaller, and she didn’t recognize him, but his body language seemed to indicate that he would follow Frank’s lead. A few other revelers now appeared near the corner to investigate the ruckus.
“Royal, is there a problem?” Frank moved next to her, but faced the three men who still surrounded Grace.
“You’ll have to ask this fellow. I was just asking them nicely to leave, but they seem reluctant.”
With two large strides, Frank was close enough to the man in front to grab him by his shirt and pull him up on his toes. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”
The man shoved at Frank to no avail. After a moment, Frank released him with a backward shove. He fell into the dirt before scrambling to his feet, visibly angry but backing away as he dusted himself off.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Nothing is worth this much trouble.” His two companions reluctantly released Grace, who slumped against the side of the building, the wet paths of tears on her dark cheeks reflecting the light from the streetlamp.
Royal lowered the pistol, but she and Frank stood where they were until the three strangers had climbed into their ancient battered truck and only a trailing dust cloud was left as a reminder of their passage into the darkening night. Lovey crossed the space between them, standing on Royal’s other side and looking down the dirt road where the vehicle had just disappeared.
“Did you know them?” Royal asked Frank.
“No, I didn’t recognize them. Just passing through I suppose. They must have been inside drinking, but I didn’t take note of them.” Frank turned to look at Royal. “You should have come in and gotten help. Especially since Miss Porter was with you.”
“Well, I asked Miss Porter to stay in the car.” Royal gave Lovey a sideways glance, and Lovey responded with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t think they’d be dumb enough to come at me with me having the Colt.” Royal eased the hammer forward on the pistol. “Guess I was wrong.”
“You’re okay then?” Frank looked from Royal over to where Grace was gathering up the contents of the brown paper bag that had spilled, although he didn’t acknowledge her by name.
“We’re fine. Go back to your fun. And thanks.”
Frank nodded and smiled, slapping Royal on the back with his large hand as he passed by. “Okay, fellas, show’s over. And I need another drink!” Laughing voices responded as the group that had gathered shuffled noisily back into the Mill. After a moment, the music started up again.
Now that they were alone in the street, Royal went to Grace. Lovey followed a few steps behind. Grace was wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand and sniffing.
“Here, let me take the bag for you.” Lovey reached out, offering the only assistance she could think of. Grace handed over the parcel and leaned into Royal.
“Come on, Grace. We’ll drive you home. Everything’s okay now.” Still holding the revolver in one hand, Royal put her other arm around Grace’s shoulders and ushered her toward the car. She opened the door, pulling the bucket seat forward to allow Grace to climb in the back.
Chapter Twenty-two
They were silent for a few moments as Royal turned the car and headed south out of town, toward where Lovey assumed Grace lived. Royal pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it over her shoulder to Grace.
“Don’t say anything about this to Mama, okay?” Grace dabbed at her eyes with the crisp white linen. “She would just worry.”
Royal glanced at Grace’s reflected image in the rearview mirror. “I won’t.”
Lovey could see Royal’s knuckles whiten as she clenched the steering wheel. She glanced at the mirror again as she spoke to Grace. “Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?”
“No,” came the muffled reply.
“You shouldn’t have been walking by yourself at this hour.” Royal’s tone was even, but Lovey heard an edge to it.
“Sam was supposed to give me a ride, but he had to leave early today. His grandmother was ill. One of the boys came to get him so that he could fetch a doctor.” Grace reached and placed her hand on Royal’s shoulder. “Please don’t say anything to Sam either. There’s nothing he can do about it now and he’d just be mad.”
“Well, that would make two of us then.” Royal stared at the road. “I’m not angry with you. You know that, right? It’s not that you did anything wrong, Grace. It’s just that the world isn’t a safe place. Sometimes even here, where it should be.”
There was silence for a few moments before Lovey turned sideways in the front seat so that she could look at Grace. “I’m Lovey Porter.” She extended her hand.
“Grace Watkins.”
