Langston County is tucked into the southern tip of New York State, wedged between the Hudson River and the New Jersey state line. And it was home to Jake Tucker. Fishing, hunting, drinking and being independent were what he cared most about in life, and Jake always said he could do none of those things living in the city. Except drinking. When he did go to New York, he'd raise enough hell in that town to make the thirty-mile trip more than worth it. He'd drive down in his rickety Ford pickup with about fifty dollars burning the insides of his back pocket and try his best to overthrow Harlem single-handedly. When Jake drank, his light-skinned complexion took on a deep red overcast and he became loud and boisterous. His larger than average size made bartenders think twice about trying to throw him out, and besides, he was free enough with his money that they just let him drink himself into a stupor and sleep it off in a back room somewhere. That was how he met Bibsy. She was in the upstairs room of the Big Top Club on One hundred forty-first Street and Lenox Avenue when he came to one spring morning.

"'Bout time you woke up," she said when his eyes first opened.

He was flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. He turned his head to focus on the female figure whose voice he'd just heard. As his blurred vision began to clear, he saw a dark-skinned woman seated at a small table against the wall, her legs crossed. She was wearing just a slip and one of the prettiest smiles he'd seen in a real long time. The smile jolted his memory, and he not only recalled the previous night but the exact moment a certain woman walked into the Big Top and caught his attention. His facial expression relaxed with the memory of them closing down the bar in a corner booth. He had a weakness for pretty dark-skinned women, and the fond remembrance of the night before prompted him to make an effort to pull himself together. She had a tooth missing on the side, and he liked that too. Although he wasn't a religious man, Jake believed that God didn't make nothing or nobody perfect. To him, that missing tooth made her more like real folk. She had a paper coffee cup in one hand and a lit cigarette dangling from the other. Instinctively, Jake's eyes scanned the room for his pants where he had his money.

"Your pants are right here on the floor where you left em," she said pointing with her toe.

Her sassy style combined a rare self-confidence and courage, qualities he took an instant liking to. He hated playing guessing games with people. Especially women. Bibsy reached for her garter belt and stockings and slipped them on while she talked. "Your money's still there. What's left of it. I took out five dollars to give to the barkeep for the fifth of whiskey you asked for and this room." She picked up the half-empty bottle from the floor and placed it on the table, then wiggled her petite frame into her dress and sat down again.

Jake leaned over and snatched his pants from the floor beside the bed and thrust his hand in each pocket. Finding he still had fifteen dollars surprised him; usually these slick New York women left him high and dry the next morning. Sometimes he'd have to borrow two quarters for the toll back across the George Washington Bridge. He got out of bed, pulled on his pants, grabbed the fifth of Jack Daniels and brought it to his lips.

"Gotta take a hair from the dog that bit ya." Jake wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Come on. Let's find someplace ta eat. You know of any good places to eat around here?"

Bibsy was about to tell him as she stood, when Jake suddenly lifted her into the air grinning at her. Then just as unexpectedly, yet tenderly, brought her down close to him and hugged her. Though initially puzzled by his impulsive embrace, she returned the gesture. Squeezing harder, he swayed from side to side saying, "Why, you're jus a lil bit of a thing. What's your name?"

"I got a lotta different names, you can take your pick. My mother named me Elizabeth, but most people call me Tiny. My family calls me Bibsy though."

Jake put her down and the top of her head reached no further than the middle of his upper arm, yet she had the kind of figure that would provoke a man's comment.

"Bibsy! What kind of a name is that?" He laughed.

"Look," she said, "Don't you go makin fun of my name or we won't never get along. That name was given to me by my sister's kids and I'm proud as hell of it."

"Well, if that's the name you're proud of that's what I'm gonna call you if you don't mind ... even though I'm not family. It's different, and I like it ... Bibsy, hmm ... I like that."

Jake asked the waitress behind the counter for three orders of sausage, home fries, eggs, biscuits and coffee; one order for Bibsy and two for himself. Neither of them talked much while they were eating. After their meal Jake belched loudly. A few patrons turned to look but that didn't faze him. Bibsy just smiled. She thought he was a real character and found herself falling for this man. His rough ways seemed to endear him to her. She thought it took a lot of courage not to care what people think about you. She felt really big that morning; being around Jake made her feel as though her small size swelled to as big as his. She felt important too. Folks took notice of them when they walked down the street and she liked that a lot. They took a stroll through the neighborhood, laughing and talking like old friends. He told her about his two boys, Jake Jr. and Robert, and how he'd been raising them by himself since their mother died seven years ago. He went on about life on The Beach in upstate Haverton, an inlet on the Hudson. "I guess to some it jus looks like a buncha rundown shacks. No 'lectricity. No inside plumbing. But I'll take it over this," Jake's gaze swept the brownstones on either side of the avenue, "any day. People up there, Cousin Gus, Aunt Carrie and all the rest, are jus plain hard-workin honest folk. I got my own chickens, a coupla pigs and vegetable garden. The garden's doin kinda poor cause the boys don't take care of it like they should. We live off the land too, eatin wild turkey, coon, rabbit, squirrel and sometimes even pheasant and deer if we're lucky."

He had a shepherd named Rain who went with him everywhere, except when he came to New York because all the noise and people made her too jittery.

"There's lots of hard work but we all chip in and help one another and make a nice life for ourselves."

"It's hard work walkin around in these high heels too." Bibsy pulled off her shoes and continued in her stocking feet. "My feet been killin me."

"What you wear em for if they hurt your feet?"

"That's the style."

"Goin round with hurtin feet is the latest New York style! Lawd, what they gonna come up with next?"

Bibsy playfully hit Jake on the arm and started laughing.

"You live around here?" Jake asked. "You don't act or talk like you from round here."

"I been up here four months now. Got a job in a dress factory downtown. Folks around here call it the Garment District. I was born in Maryland. Ellicott City. That's right outside Baltimore."

"Guess you like it better back home, huh?"

"No indeed. Me and two of my sisters were brought up by nuns in a Catholic home. My mother visited us regular but she was too busy workin to raise us. My sister Martha, she's the oldest and the one I'm livin with now, was brought up by my father and his family. Seemed like nobody wanted us three after Mom and Pop...