Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

dollars, but any game with Ben Roy usually called for betting more than most farmers wanted. Winning or losing at gambling was not what had brought Alex to Lawnover this night, but he had to bide his time. He pulled out a crumpled dollar bill from his overalls pocket and tossed it on top of the money pile.
    “Hey, Bobby Lee. Send Hettie in here.” Ben Roy shuffled the cards as his shout went through the closed door into the main room.
    “I sho’ hope to hell you give me some better cards than you did last time.” Wiley George looked like he was enjoying the aftermath of his second Thornton family planting party just a little too much.
    Alex saw the other Thornton kin shoot the boy a warning look.
    “It ain’t the cards, you dumb bastard. You hold your liquor worse than a ho in a white trash bawdy house.” Ben Roy chomped down on his cigar as he deliberately blew a large puff of smoke into his son-in-law’s face.
    Wiley George turned his head and took another gulp from his Mason jar. Ben Roy slapped a card face down in front of Alex.
    “Lay offen him, Ben Roy. You know Tillie and that new baby got him goin’.” The Thornton middle son, who thought he was the better man with his fists, challenged Ben Roy.
    Another card slipped down in front of Alex, its blue-patterned back staring up at him. He let his eyes travel around the table checking on how much liquor had been consumed. This was not the night he wanted the Thornton boys engaged in one of their usual brawls. He needed them at least part of the way sober to hear what he had to say.
    “I reckon I know what’s got Wiley George goin’ as good as you do.” Ben Roy grunted at his younger brother just as Hettie opened the door carrying a big jug in one hand and a platter of left over fried chicken in the other.
    “Set that chicken plate down and pour us some more whiskey, gal.” Ben Roy barely looked at his woman as he laid a third card in front of Alex.
    Hettie bobbed her head as she circled the table behind the men, refilling each glass jar. As she poured Bobby Lee’s home brew, Alex sneaked quick glances at the woman every man at that table knew Ben Roy had bedded for six years. Her brown skin may have been a shade fairer than Laura’s, and her hair might have been a degree less crinkly. It was hard to tell about the shape of her body since she still carried much of the weight of her last pregnancy. But, remembering her from before, Alex could tell Hettie’s body had never been a match for his Laura’s curves and firmness.
    He admitted that Ben Roy’s Hettie once had a bit of prettiness about her, but that had faded over the years. He looked up toward her eyes. Sensing his glance, she looked back at him, paled, became flustered, remembered her place, and hurriedly backed away. Ben Roy hadn’t noticed any of his woman’s antics as he laid the fourth card before Alex.
    “Wiley George, you think you gonna need some help readin’ them cards?” Ben Roy snickered at his son-in-law as he placed the fifth and last card in front of Alex.
    “Don’t need no help readin’ aces and kings.” Wiley George clipped off the answering challenge.
    Everybody knew that Ben Roy hadn’t exactly approved of Tillie’s marriage to the Jamison boy, just as he’d never fully accepted Alex into the Thornton ranks. Both the Jamisons and the McNaughtons farmed acres too few and too poor to be in league with the Thorntons. Alex recognized the taunts Ben Roy tossed at Wiley as the same ones he’d fielded himself more times than he cared to remember. Alex picked up his poker cards. Besides a pair of nines, he held only an ace, queen, and jack, all of mixed suits. Gambling had never meant anything to him other than throwing away good money. Sometimes, he thought that was the reason Ben Roy insisted that he sit in on the poker games with him. It was just another opportunity to flaunt the Thornton money in front of a struggling in-law.
    “If you readin’ aces and kings, Wiley George, sweeten the pot.” The Thornton cousin sat with his lids half closed.
    “Big talk is the onliest thing Wiley George got of any size on him. Everything else is puny.” Ben Roy guffawed at his own slight of his daughter’s husband. He pulled out another dollar bill from his work shirt pocket and pitched it onto the pile of money in the center of the table.
    Hettie, the jug now almost empty, turned to leave. Without looking in her direction, Ben Roy jerked hard on a handful of skirt.