“Good. Here.” He put a small solid sack of chicken feed in with her groceries. “Feed this to your chickens, and bring me bread and eggs, okay?”

She picked up the sack and left without acknowledgment. Mr. McRae shook his head as she waddled out of the store.

Martha headed for home. A block away from the store, she had to go to the bathroom. She paused for a moment and thought about it, then turned and walked through the next door she came to.

Her eyes opened in amazement. She’d never seen a place like this before. There was a long bench, only it was too tall to be a bench; stools were in front of it. There were little square tables and red booths. Three men sat in one booth, cigarette smoke curling to the ceiling. Sparkling glasses and bottles covered the wall behind the man who stood on the other side of the bench. He smiled at her.

She hefted her sack and set it on the corner of the bar and said to him, “Bathroom.”

“Follow me, Martha.” The smiling man with the white apron like Mr. McRae took her to the back of the room and pointed at a door.

When she came out, the three men were sitting on the tall stools. They watched her approach with greedy enthusiasm. One of them stopped her with a big rough hand. “Can I buy you a drink, Martha?”

“Drink?” She looked up into the cold blue eyes. Each tooth of his fierce smile was rimmed in gold, and a toothpick protruded from the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. You thirsty?” He turned and winked at his friends. The three of them looked at her, smiling expectantly.

She smiled her crooked smile, trying to understand. “Thirsty. Okay.”

“Draw her a brew, Mike.”

“Come on, guys, leave the lady alone.”

The smile faded, the toothpick trembled. “She said she’s thirsty, Mike. I’m buying.”

The bartender leaned over the counter at Martha. He looked menacing, coming at her like that. “Wouldn’t you rather have a soda, Martha?”

She cowered behind the one who cared about her thirst. “No,” she said.

Mike set the tall mug of beer on the bar, while the one helped her up to a stool. She sipped the beer and made a face.

“You have to drink it fast, Martha,” he said to her with a wink at his comrades. “Like this.” He picked his beer up and chugged half of it down.

“Fast?”

“Um-hmmm.”

She picked up the beer and drank three swallows before coughing and choking. The toothpick man patted her on the back.

“That’s a good girl. Take a couple more swallows. It’ll go down easier.”

She did as she was told.