Jeff had always had a mean streak a mile wide and a country road long, if truth be told. And, it often was – or some version of it – around Miller’s General in Crenshaw. Still, he went and got hisself married last June. Gal named Heidi from down the road to Huntsboro. Even the preacher done some extra prayin since then.

Started on the weddin night to hear Hank Miller tell it: got knocked around but well, hell, wedding nights and the Motel 6 over to Hazelhurst ain’t nothin to sneeze at. After that first night they went up to Augusta but them city folk didn’t set too well – came back two days early.

Anyhow, the newlyweds moved into Gramma Swift’s old house. Jeff goes to work down to the Feed & Seed – he’s come in more’n once with cigarette burns and black eyes. And Heidi – well, ain’t no one quite sure what she does durin the day. But at night, plenty who’ll tell you about the hollerin and fussin and cussin that’d turn Gramma in her grave.

Guess them city folks’d call it abuse, but folks round Crenshaw just call it marriage.


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