Blind Tiger - Page 103

“Because I said so.”

“Irv—”

“Laurel, we’re not arguing over this. I’d bust up both stills myself before I’d put you at risk like that. What I propose,” he said before she could raise another objection, “is this.” He grimaced as he shifted his position. “Situate the girl out there.”

“Corrine?”

“Set her up in the shack. It’ll look like you’ve taken her on as a charity case. You rescued her from a life of iniquity. She’s young and spry. She could walk back and forth over that hill between the shack and the still with no problem at all. She can help Ernie.”

“Help him make moonshine? That’s not rescuing her from a life of iniquity, it’s setting her up to commit a crime.”

“What she’s been doing at Lefty’s is a crime.”

“That was imposed on her.”

“All the more reason this arrangement will be better.”

r /> Laurel rubbed her forehead, which had begun to throb. “Does she know anything about making whiskey?”

“Haven’t asked her yet. I wanted to run the idea past you first. Whether she does or not, she can stir mash. She can seal jars. She can box them.”

“With a broken arm?”

“It’s almost healed. She took her sling off and showed me how she can rotate it. As for the process, she’ll catch on quick enough with Ernie teaching her. She can’t read, but she’s bright enough.”

“She can’t read?”

“No, but she can talk. Damn can she ever. She’s got magpie in her blood. Before I told her to put a sock in it, I heard her whole life story.”

“Why can’t she read?”

“No schooling. She had to stay at home and help her mother tend the brood. Her two ambitions in life are to learn to read and to see a moving picture show. Anything else you want to know?”

“Yes. Why aren’t you worried about her safety at the still the way you’re worried about mine?”

“Because she ain’t my kin, and because she’s had to live by her wits, and, considerin’ how young she is, she’s fared pretty good, survivin’ Wally and Gert and all. You can’t bake your pies in that old stove at the shack, and if you weren’t seen around town, everybody would wonder where you went off to. Especially that Hutton. I’d bet my left nut on him being first to ask where you was at. And you hate that shack.”

It was a speech that sounded suspiciously rehearsed. “You have given it some thought.”

“Wasn’t nothin’ else to do last night except to hurt and think. I don’t see another solution. Now, send the girl in here. I’ll lay it out for her, but I know she’ll jump at the chance. She’s scared you’re gonna cast her out for being a fallen woman.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She went over to the dresser and picked up the tray. “I’ll be back shortly to change your bandage.”

“First,” Irv said, “you need to drive out to the still and tell Ernie what’s happened. He was expecting me out there last night after my visit to Lefty’s. He’ll be worried.”

“That’ll take me an hour.”

“My arm ain’t gonna rot off in that amount of time.” To make his point, he tried to raise it and winced. In a growl, he said, “Next time you see that Hutton fella, tell him I’m grateful. I don’t trust him, but I owe him my thanks.”

“I won’t be seeing him anymore.”

But when she walked into the kitchen with the tray, he was standing on the back door threshold in conversation with Corrine.

Thirty-Two

Thatcher wasn’t feeling too gracious toward Laurel this morning, and when she saw him, he could tell by her sour expression that the feeling was mutual.

The tray she was carrying was set on the drainboard with a dish-rattling thud. “Corrine, Irv wants to talk to you.” Her tone didn’t invite discussion or argument.

Tags: Sandra Brown Historical
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