The new location had
the natural attributes of the original. Ernie and Corrine had both stills reassembled, and both were cooking. Over cups of coffee they told Laurel and Irv about the harrowing night they had spent moving everything.
Ernie said, “Soon’s we got the trap off that fella’s arm and put him in the hole, I ran for my truck, brought it to the site, and started loading everything up. Even with a gimp arm, she did aw’right,” he said, looking over at Corrine.
“I like to’ve wore myself out,” she said. “But, in a way, it was good we had to take everything apart and put it back together here. I learned a lot. But I don’t want to do it again anytime soon.”
“We wasn’t sure you’d get the map,” Ernie said. “It was her idea to leave it.”
Laurel told them about her seeing the convoy from the shack and racing over the hill to beat it. “Although, at the time, I didn’t know it was lawmen. It could just as well have been rival moonshiners. Imagine my shock to see the place deserted and not knowing what had happened to you.”
She finished telling the rest of it. “I can’t explain what inspired me to get the primer. Irv figured out what the drawing meant.”
Ernie tossed the dregs of his coffee into the dirt and watched as it was absorbed. “Was the thief I trapped a Johnson?”
Laurel nodded. “He and a younger cousin.”
“He die in the hidey-hole?”
“Miraculously, no, but his arm was amputated.”
He nodded solemnly. “Then he pro’bly won’t be stealing no more.”
“Probably. But that was a big price to pay for a few crates of moonshine.”
“Yep, it was, Miss Laurel. But given the chance, he’d’ve killed us without blinkin’.”
Thatcher had reasoned the same. She said, “It’s believed that was his intention.”
“What about the cousin who ran out on him?”
“Shot and killed last night,” Laurel said. “They feel for sure by his own kin.” She related the circumstances, but didn’t refer to Thatcher by name, only as “a deputy” who was seeking information about Wally’s murder.
As though reading her mind, Corrine asked, “You seen any more of Mr. Hutton?”
Irv harrumphed and kept his head down, poking at the logs in the cookfire with a stick. Laurel said, “He came by one evening to check on Irv’s progress.” Quickly changing the subject, she asked Ernie about their renewed production. “Can you step it up?”
“We brought six barrels of mash with us that were close to ready. The rest, we had to pour out. Luckily we had enough supplies to mix up more yesterday and today.”
“We’ve got two crates you can take with you,” Corrine said with pride. “I got ’em ready myself while Ernie was mixing the mash.”
Two crates wouldn’t have excited Laurel a few days ago, but now she was glad to know she had them. She didn’t tell the others about the O’Connors buying from another moonshiner, knowing that they, particularly Irv, who mistrusted the twins, would disapprove. She disapproved.
They discussed more about the operation, then Laurel expressed her misgivings. “Tup and Elray Johnson found our stills. How well hidden are you here, Ernie?”
“Pretty good, I reckon, or I wouldn’t’ve moved us here.” He glanced around at the others. “But about them Johnsons finding us…”
“What?” Irv said.
“Just seems unlikely is all,” Ernie said. Without looking directly at anyone, he added, “Unless they were keeping an eye on the shack.”
“Why would they be doing that?” Laurel asked.
He shrugged his bony shoulders. “If somebody was to’ve tipped ’em off.”
Laurel’s ears began to roar as Thatcher’s words came back to her in a surge. Elray swore he was there when Gert told his great-uncle Hiram who the culprit was. The culprit meaning the female moonshiner.
Gert knew Laurel was dealing in whiskey. She had been there when Laurel and Lefty had sealed their deal. She’d been livid to learn that Laurel had sheltered Corrine. Narrowed down, that would be in one of two dwellings: their house in town, or the shack.