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Katy Land
Katy Land
Katy Land
Ebook26 pages24 minutes

Katy Land

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Katy Land, country music singer at a local bar, is walking along the sidewalk on a cold bright morning when a goat trailer belonging to Skip, "the goat man," slips its hitch and rolls back, scooping Katy up and taking her on a wild ride before dumping her. Skip, a broke country music singer also, on the side, tries to make ammends but the media encourage Katy to sue.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 1, 2010
ISBN9781452375441
Katy Land
Author

Janice Daugharty

Janice Daugharty is Artist-in-Residence at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, in Tifton, Georgia. She is the author of one story collection and five novels: Dark of the Moon, Necessary Lies, Pawpaw Patch, Earl in the Yellow Shirt, and Whistle.

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    Book preview

    Katy Land - Janice Daugharty

    Katy Land

    by Janice Daugharty

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2010 Janice Daugharty

    Even working in microcosm, Janice Daugharty is a writer who thinks big. New York Times Book Review

    Skip backed the goat trailer to the edge of the blacktop lot, then hove forward, stopping his muddy white pickup at the four-lane street to wait for a little red car and a semi to pass. While waiting he switched stations on the radio. A country deejay was yakking on one, and Billy Ray Cyrus bellowing on the other, both to a back-up of a.m. static. Skip decided to go with Cyrus. He sipped from the Styrofoam cup of coffee he'd just bought at the Holiday Market. Then, all clear, he pulled out, keeping to the inside lane, headed west at a crawl toward Downtown Valdosta.

    He couldn't decide whether he liked Cyrus's voice or not; all that jumping around was what had made him. But he did like the steel guitar shivering in the background. He turned up the volume and distanced his front bumper from the semi's rear, slowing at double railroad tracks to keep from upsetting the pieced-wood trailer, then on past facing rows of white colonial houses, an open fish market, and the first of linking red-brick shops that made up the south-side of town. Pickup and trailer gaining on the upslope.

    To his left, a heart-faced young woman with a blast of red hair was walking briskly along the sidewalk, heading in the other direction, where skimpy trees wintered in concrete tubs. Her hands were pocketed in a long black coat, fine nose testing the cold bright air. She had on calf-high black boots. She looked spunky.

    Suddenly, he sensed, then saw, the shadowy underbody of the semi, his front bumper almost kissing ass with it, cankered dust and oil on the cross-joints and axles. He stomped the brakes, overturning the coffee cup

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