A Woman's Touch

certainly have quite a reputation in this area,“ Rebecca observed mildly.
    „They deserve it,“ Herb informed her with a certain relish. „Kyle and Glen have been wrangling since kindergarten.
    Come by that attitude honestly, though. Their pappies were just as bad and the granddaddies were worse. Story is that the grandaddies actually took shots at each other. Folks got themselves killed from time to time over that valley.“
    „While the townspeople took bets?“ Rebecca asked bluntly.
    Herb Crocket blinked and then chuckled. „I won’t say that the warfare hasn’t provided a few interesting moments down through the years. I made five bucks off Stockbridge once, myself. He and Ballard got into it down by the river on the way home from a high-school dance. Ballard wound up in the water. Me and Tim Murphy was drivin’ by in my car, and we saw the whole thing. Murphy bet on Ballard, and I took Stockbridge.“
    Rebecca had a mental image of a bunch of onlookers standing around placing bets while the town’s two bad boys went at it.
    „Now, Herb, don’t you be givin’ Miss Wade a bad impression,“ said a gray-haired, bespectacled woman from the rear of the store. She came forward between two aisles of canned goods, her ample bosom covered by a large white apron. She smiled with sunny good humor at Rebecca. „Don’t pay him any attention. For years there’s been way too many of them like Herb here that didn’t mind enjoying the show those two families have always put on.“
    „Ain’t my fault that feud has kept going for three generations, Ethel,“ Herb grumbled.
    „Should have been stopped years ago,“ Ethel opined. She peered at Rebecca. „If you ask me, a smart woman could have done something about that situation somewhere along the line. But Bal-lards and Stockbridges never did tend to marry smart. Leastways, they didn’t before young Glen married little Darla. Always did like Darla. Sensible woman.
    Good head on her shoulders. Glen’s calmed down a lot since the two of them got hitched. She’s a good influence on him.“

    „Ain’t no woman born who could manage either a Ballard or a Stockbridge when it comes to Harmony Valley,“
    Herb declared. „Ballards and Stockbridges have always been plumb crazy when it comes to that land.“
    The bells on the door jingled merrily just as Rebecca put her selections on the counter. A lanky-looking teenager stuck his head inside the store. He was grinning with gleeful anticipation.
    „Word is, anyone who wants to see Ballard and Stockbridge go at it better get down to Cully’s Tavern,“ he announced. „Stockbridge is in there shootin’ pool, I hear, and Ballard just drove up. Bound to be some fireworks.“
    „Here we go again,“ Ethel Crocket said with a sigh.
    „Yup,“ said Herb, looking enthusiastic.
    „Nope,“ said Rebecca very quietly and very firmly. „Excuse me, Herb. I’ll be back to pick these things up later.“
    „Where are you going?“ Herb asked in astonishment.
    „To see the local sights. Care to direct me to Cully’s Tavern?“
    Herb stared at her. „Outside to the left. Half a block down. Can’t miss it. But you shouldn’t be headin’ there, ma’am.
    It ain’t exactly the sort of place a nice woman like yourself would feel comfortable in, if you know what I mean.“
    „Thank you,“ said Rebecca. She headed for the door.
    „Oh, Lordy,“ said Ethel. „Herb, you go after her. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.“
    „What the heck am I supposed to do?“ Herb demanded. But he was reluctantly untying his apron.
    Rebecca paid no attention. She walked outside and turned left. Herb was right. It was impossible to miss Cully’s Tavern. Half a block down from the grocery store she stopped in front of a neon sign advertising beer and pool. The view through the narrow little windows was hampered by aging red curtains that hadn’t been cleaned in years.
    A battered metal plate over the door warned minors they were not allowed across the threshold. There was a grimy, laid-back, males-only atmosphere about the place that warned Rebecca what she would find inside.
    She ignored the warning and pushed open the door. A cloud of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol fumes and masculine tension greeted her. Through the haze she could make out a collection of colorful beer logos decorating the walls.
    The jukebox was halfway through a song about cheating men and faithful, crying women. Several males dressed in jeans and