If it had been discovered that Corrine was living in the shack, if she’d been seen going on foot over the hills, if she’d been followed to the still, Gert would have had the perfect setup for revenge against both Corrine and Laurel.
Good God. Everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours was a consequence of Laurel’s going to the roadhouse that day. Thatcher had said he was afraid they would wind up on opposite sides of a fight. He wasn’t afraid of it at all. He already knew that she was moonshining, and last night he’d warned her that, thanks to the vengeful Gert, the Johnsons did, too.
“Corrine, things have become dangerous. You have to come back to town with Irv and me,” she said. “You’re too far from the shack to be going back and forth on foot.”
“Ernie and me done talked about it,” the girl said. “I’ll stay here and help him do runs till we catch up.”
“Ernie?” Irv asked. “What do you think of that plan?”
He shifted self-consciously. “When she ain’t blabbing, she’s handy.”
Laurel came to her feet. “It doesn’t matter what Ernie thinks. It matters what I think.”
The three of them looked up at her like she’d lost her mind, and very possibly she had. She walked away from them, pressing her fingers against her temples where her pulse was beating fast and hard. There had to be a way out of this, not to save her own skin, but to protect these three and the twins.
The logical solution to all their problems would be to shut down completely. But then what?
She couldn’t stop Ernie and Irv from carrying on as they had before her interference. Corrine, having shown an enthusiasm for making corn liquor, would likely join them.
The twins were young, daring, and resourceful. They obviously had other contacts in the illegal liquor trade. With their winning personalities, they would prosper.
She would bake and sell pies.
The dreariest part of that prospect would be that Gert would continue to thrive, turning victims of mistreatment and misfortune into prostitutes for her gain.
Laurel slowly came back around to three pairs of eyes looking at her expectantly. Corrine would actually be safer out here than she would be in town where she was much more likely to be seen by someone who would return her to Gert. But this was hardly a Garden of Eden.
“Corrine, are you sure you want to stay here?”
“Oh, I don’t mind at’all. I’m enjoyin’ bein’ out in the open.”
Irv and Laurel looked to Ernie for his opinion. “She’s proved herself to be right smart,” he said. “Nimble and quick, too.”
“All right,” Laurel said, but not without reluctance. “For the present, she stays. Please get the crates loaded into the truck.”
Although Irv couldn’t be of much help, he accompanied Ernie.
Laurel stayed behind with Corrine. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.” She glanced over at the tent. “By then, if you’ve changed your mind about your situation here, you can come back to town with me. You’ll have a home with Irv and me.”
“I know what you’re askin’ without coming right out with it. Ernie treats me regular, not like a whore.”
“You were never a whore, Corrine. You were a victim of circumstance.”
“Well, anyway, Ernie has his cranky moments, usually over my jabberin’, but he’s nice. Even without me asking, he dug a latrine for my private use.”
Laurel tried to contain her smile. “That was thoughtful of him.”
The men came back for the other crate. As soon as they were out of earshot again, Laurel said, “Corrine, the morning after Irv got shot, and you and I were having breakfast, you talked to me about Gert and how upset she’d been with Wally Johnson for the beating he gave you.”
“Upset? I’ll say. She carried on something fierce.”
Laurel remembered what Corrine had told her that day, but she wanted to hear it from
her again. “What made Gert so angry?”
“’Cause I looked like roadkill, and she wouldn’t be making any money off me, and money is all she cares about.
“She was so mad at Wally, her face turned purple. She hollered cuss words, threatened him with a meat cleaver, and ordered him to get his ugly self out of her place.”