John couldn't help but let a goofy smile escape his lips when he saw Kitty waving back. He waved back and watched Kitty disappear over the hill that led back into town. He laughed and sat taller in the saddle while he picked the drying mud from his coat and shirt. John squeezed his horse with his thighs and started trotting back down the road. He knew exactly what his uncle and brothers and sisters would say if he started courting Kitty Avett, but he knew exactly where they could all go if they had any problems with it.

--

Luke Norman kept his foot on the accelerator as the truck bounced down the dirt road towards Pickett. The green truck was a rust bucket he and Mark had to work on nearly every other day to keep it running, but it was fast when it needed to be. To the outside world it appeared to be the truck they used to make store deliveries in, even now the back of the bed was loaded down with boxes filled with groceries and other sundry goods. But underneath the boxes was a false bottom that had their crates of 'shine. A baker's dozen of jugs all to be sold to Coochiebug. Coochiebug owned the Slab House, a juke joint on the outskirts of town near the old man's old place. Like Harry's, the Slab House closed its doors when the Volstead Act went into effect. But just because the Slab House was closed didn't mean Coochiebug went out of business. Between the Coochiebug keeping the whites in Pickett wet and Theo Tatum doing the same for the coloreds, it was like prohibition didn't exist. 

Pickett was nicknamed Saloon City for a reason, Luke thought to himself when the town came into site around the corner. And there wasn't anything the government or law could do to change it. It was just the natural order of things, he reckoned. And who was he to change that? Especially if he could get paid well for not changing it. Luke slowed down as he entered the town limits and cruised through the city streets with a cocky grin on his face.