Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

Ernie took off his newsboy cap and fanned his face with it. “What’s Laurel say?”

“She said to lay low at the first sign of trouble. Made me promise. But before that, she was expressing concern about our shortage caused by last night’s shutdown.”

“I hate to worry her about that.”

“She’d hate to see us landed in jail or shot. So, tell me what you think?”

“I don’t know, Irv. Might be imprudent.”

“Where’d you get a word like imprudent?”

“My granddaddy used it whenever he got an itch on the back of his neck. Meant he sensed trouble. He’d say it might be imprudent to cook that night.”

“Well, I wish he was here to tell us if his neck was itching. But since he ain’t, what do you think?”

Ernie turned his gaze to Corrine. “If it was just you and me, I’d say to hell with it, let’s take our chances. But it ain’t just us two we’ve got to consider anymore.”

Irv looked back and forth between Ernie and the girl, and clarity dawned. “Good God a’mighty. It’s like that, is it?”

Ernie grinned. Rather stupidly, Irv thought. “She and me have took up.”

“Hell, Ernie, you’re old enough to be her—”

“Uncle. We figured it out.”

“Have you figured out how you’re going to support her?”

“She won’t cost much. She don’t take up hardly any room. She’s little but carries her weight. Like an ant.” He grabbed the jar of whiskey away from Irv, took a swig, and, keeping his eyes forward, said, “I know what’s got your dander up. You’re thinking how can I like her after she’s been a whore.”

“I don’t judge the girl for that. You ought to know me better, Ernie. I just didn’t see this coming. Took me by surprise, is all.”

“You and me both,” Ernie said, smiling in that stupid way again. “Me looking how I do, I never counted on having a woman. But Corrine said she’s no raving beauty, either. She looks fine to me, though. Appearances don’t matter.”

Irv shook his head and chuckled. “No, I guess they don’t, or my Dorothy would never have taken to me.”

“Beans are ready,” Corrine called from across the clearing. “Are y’all gonna come eat or continue to talk about me like I ain’t here?”

After gathering around the fire and filling their tin plates, Corrine said, “I got an opinion on whether or not we do a run.” Snootily, she added, “If anybody’s interested.”

“Let’s hear it,” Irv said.

“How do you spell imprudent?” she asked Ernie.

As an aside to Irv, he said, “I’m helping her with her letters.” Then to Corrine, “E-m-p-r-o-o-d-u-n-t. I think. It means—”

“I figured out what it means,” she said. “And I think if your granddaddy was here, he’d say his neck was itching something fierce and we should lay low.”

She tilted her head back and looked at the sky. “It was so hot today, the sky was almost white, hardly any blue. When it’s this hot, people turn cranky, tempers get short. Things that’ve been simmering tend to boil over.

“If we don’t cook tonight, Laurel will be disappointed we didn’t make product. But if we got killed, she’d keel over herself. She’s had enough people die on her. I don’t want that lady to have more grief on account of me. That’s my say.”

“Irv?” Ernie said. “You get the last word.”

He pondered it, then said, “I ’spect you’re right, Corrine. After supper let’s move to where we hid out last night. We’ll be locked and loaded, prepared to defend ourselves, but let’s hope we won’t have to.” He gazed off into the distance in the direction of town. “But I’m scared that no matter what we do, Laurel is going to come to grief.”

* * *



“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Mike O’Connor’s blasphemy echoed off the limestone wall of the cellar. “They came down here?”

“They invited themselves,” Laurel said. “There was no graceful way to refuse. If we hadn’t installed those false shelves, they would have caught me red-handed. All those evenings I spent stewing fruit and berries saved us.”

It also had helped to have a father-in-law to whom nailing scrap lumber together to form shelving had been the work of only a few hours. The exertion had pained his wounded arm for days after, but he would be glad to hear that his effort had prevented a catastrophe.

“The mayor likes to push his weight around,” Davy said. “He’s a blowhard.”

“Don’t underestimate how sinister he is under all that bluster,” Laurel said. “He frightened me, and so did Landry. At least with Croft you know where you stand. Landry lurked and listened, all the while smiling like a snake oil salesman.”

Mike said, “Yeah, he’s a sneaky one.”

“How do you know Chester Landry?”

“We don’t,” Mike said, “but we’ve seen him around, usually at Lefty’s. I know the smile you’re talking about. Like he knows you’re the one who farted.”

Laurel said, “Thatcher warned me of him.”