Savage Skies

“I won’t,” Speckled Fawn said, slipping past him before he had a chance to change his mind.

Hearing him speak Megan’s name gave Speckled Fawn confirmation that this was the right child.

She went and stood over Megan, seeing how truly lovely she was, and how innocent. “I am so alone in the world now,” she said, turning slowly to look at Earl, who came and stood behind her. “You seem alone, too. Can I stay for a while and talk?”

Earl slowly looked her up and down until he had gotten a full view of the buxom woman that she was. “Yeah, and how’s about a drink with me?” he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’m lonely, too. Let’s keep each other company for a while.”

His eyes widened when Speckled Fawn slid the flask from beneath her blouse. “Well, what have we here?” he said, chuckling.

Speckled Fawn flinched when he grabbed the flask from her. “Come on,” he said, drool spiraling from a corner of his mouth. “Sit. Drink.” He winked at her. “Then maybe we can have ourselves some fun, if you know what I mean.”

“Sir, I . . . just . . . lost my husband and daughter,” Speckled Fawn said, faking sadness. “But if you think it’d be alright, I would like to drink with you. That’s why I brought the whiskey. I needed someone to drink with.”

She frowned at him. “But that’s all I want from you,” she said firmly. “Company and booze. That’s it. Do you understand?”

“That sounds good enough for me,” Earl said, flopping down on a chair.

He motioned for her to sit down opposite him at the table. “Here,” he said. “You brought the booze. You take the first drink from it. Go ahead. Take a swig.”

He suddenly scooted the flask across the table to her.

Despising the very sight of the man, yet knowing she must proceed with the plan and then get out of there as quickly as she could, Speckled Fawn took the flask from him. She hadn’t had a drink for many years and knew how quickly she could get drunk. She had to play it safe.

“Got a glass?” she asked, not wanting to share the taste of the man’s mouth on the flask after he took a drink from it.

“Yep, think I can manage to find one,” Earl said, stumbling out of his chair. He went to a small cabinet on the wall just above a table where a basin of water sat. He took two glasses from the cabinet, then went back and sat down on his chair opposite her.

He scooted one of the glasses over to her.

He watched with squinted eyes as she poured herself a small amount of whiskey.

“That’s all you’re gonna drink?” he asked, chuckling. “Just like a woman to brag about wantin’ to drink, then you can’t stand the taste of it. Go ahead. Drink what you like. I’ll have no trouble drinkin’ the rest.”

Glad he assumed that most women hated whiskey, she smiled and took a sip.

He threw his head back in a fit of laughter. “That ain’t enough to drown a fly in,” he said as he took the flask back from her. “But it just leaves more for me.”

When the whiskey hit Speckled Fawn’s belly, she cringed. This had to be the worst liquor she had ever tasted. And she knew it was very strong.

She was glad that Earl wasn’t pushing any more on her. She would just take delight in watching him get drunker and drunker, and then take advantage of him when she could.

She watched him down one glass of whiskey and then another. He became quiet, seeming more interested in getting drunk than anything else.

“Whiskey helps a lot when you need to forget,” he said, his words slurring even more than before. “I need to forget. Oh, Lordie, if you only knew what I seen recently. Well, you don’t want to know, and I cain’t ever say.”

Speckled Fawn knew what he wanted to forget without his telling her, so she just stayed quiet and waited for him to pass out.

He was having trouble keeping his head up, and each time he took another drink, much of the whiskey sloshed out of the glass onto his lips.

He was losing control.

That was what Speckled Fawn wanted.

She had worked in enough dance halls to recognize the signs be

fore a man passed out.

Thank the Lord, this man was nearing that point now.