RAYLE - The most recent figure I can find indicates that the population of this Wilkes County community is 136, and I would bet that, except for the teetotalers, each local resident has had a beer at Ms. Ruby's place, a mile or so west on Highway 78.

The proprietor is Ruby Chafin, who is usually surrounded by a fraternity of men who would do bodily harm to anybody who offended her. The men folk who hang out here are unfailingly protective of Ms. Ruby. "We never let her walk home alone," says a regular, Danny Cosby. Ms. Ruby lives about a hundred yards from her place of business.

When Arvid Johnson walked her home two nights in a row recently, he told her that if he walked her a third night, he would expect a kiss. "I started driving my car after that," Ms. Ruby deadpanned, eliciting an outburst of uproarious laughter and almost causing a crisis for Doug Mathews and David Callaway who were in midswallow of their favorite beers.

"You gotta come back when we fry fish on Friday," Tim Miller of nearby Post Oak Farms told Cliff Brooks of Crawford. "Sometimes we have over a hundred people to show up when we have a fish fry. You ain't lived 'til you come to a fish fry at Ms. Ruby's."

Ms. Ruby's place is about as down home as it gets. The furniture has a weathered, rugged look, just like many of her customers. If a fellow showed up in a coat and tie, he'd be as out-of-place as Arvid and Danny would be at the symphony—but he would be welcome.

A sign on the wall says that Rayle is so small, "we can't afford a town drunk, so we all take turns." Another proclaims Ms. Ruby's to be a "sunny place for shady people." There are a half dozen refrigerators stocked with beer. Ms. Ruby runs tabs for her regular customers. When they leave, they tell her how many beers they have consumed, but I suspect she knows without them bothering to keep count.

There are two rules: No fighting and no talking ugly in front of any kids who happen to be tagging along. "They can say anything they want in front of me," Ms. Ruby says. "I done heard it all, but not in front of anybody's chillun."

Whenever anybody has too much to drink, they leave their truck in Ms. Ruby's yard and return the next morning to retrieve it. "I tell 'em, people are gong to think they spent the night with me, but that don't bother me none. People are going to talk anyway so why worry about it."

Somebody is always cooking a cake for Ms. Ruby's birthday. One year she got three cakes. This year, there was some confusion. Everybody thought someone else was baking her a cake. When the celebration began, there was no cake. Undaunted, Ms. Ruby stuffed the number 77, her age, in a honeybun and celebrated without the least bother.

Seems to me there isn't much that bothers Ms. Ruby, but if something or somebody did, she has an army of male friends who would immediately make life miserable for any and all offenders.

Her favorite beer is Miller Lite. You'd find her open for business every day of the year except Christmas, New Year's, and Sundays. And when you stop by, you'll find her in good humor, kibitzing with her boys.

With them, she's not queen just for a day. She's queen every day.