Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

Thatcher tipped his hat and walked away. Barker called after him. “I like them spurs.”

Thatcher smiled back at him. “I’m gonna try to earn them.”

* * *



Bill was sitting in one of the rockers on his front porch when Thatcher drove up in Laurel’s car. He got out and walked to the porch. As he sat down in the second chair, he motioned toward the cane propped against Bill’s. “How’s the leg?”

“Okay. Just aches. Some days worse than others.”

For a time, neither said anything, then Thatcher asked after Mrs. Amos.

“I’m taking her to Temple. They’ve got a three-month program, but she hasn’t had a drop since the arsenic thing. She wants to get well. We’ve been talking a lot about Tim. I think she’s finally come to terms. The other day, we even laughed over something he’d done when he was a boy.”

“That’s good, Bill. That’s real good. She’ll be all right. I’m sure of it.”

Bill waited a moment, then said, “Mila Driscoll’s body was recovered.”

“No trouble locating it?”

“Not after I passed along your description of that rock pile. Her uncle took her remains to New Braunfels for burial.”

“Driscoll?”

“The sorry son of a bitch has fired two defense lawyers already, and they were glad of it. The judge granted a change of venue, so at least he’s off our hands. If the state doesn’t hang him, he’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars.” He looked over at Thatcher. “You’ll probably be subpoenaed to testify when he comes up for trial.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Patsy Kemp took Norma’s baby boy and moved to Colorado to join her husband. They never could have kids, so they’re happy to have him. I told her we suspected that Bernie Croft had fathered the boy, and that in all probability he’d been the one to assault Norma. She was shocked. She’d never met Bernie, only knew him to be the mayor.”

“Miss Blanchard took that secret to her grave. I wish she’d kept the one that got her killed.”

Bill gave a solemn nod, then said, “Still looking for Chester Landry. He’s nowhere to be found. That one is slippery as owl shit.”

“Yeah.”

They rocked in silence until Bill said, “They charged me with misdemeanors only. Gave me one year and probated that.”

“You’re not a crook, Bill. You just got caught up and couldn’t get out.”

“Naturally, first thing I did was tender my resignation. But there’s a group of county officials already urging me to run for reelection when the probation is up. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, and I’d bet on you winning.”

“How sure are you?”

“Royal flush sure. This is Texas.”

The two laughed lightly, then Bill’s smile gradually faded, until his mustache drooped. “I heard you’re leaving.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Bynum? I’ve met the man you’re going to be working with.”

“He mentioned it. At a sheriff’s association meeting?”

“In Austin. A while back. Before the war. He’s a good man.” He stared into the near distance. After a time he said, “You could stay here, Thatcher, take over while I’m on probation.”

“No, that should be Scotty.”

“You’d be leaving anyway, though, wouldn’t you?” He hung his head. “For what I did, I apologize, Thatcher.”

Thatcher made the gesture that Mr. Hobson had, a silent grant of forgiveness. “That’s not the reason I’m going.” Before continuing, he waited until Bill had raised his head and was looking straight at him. “This is your place, Bill. You found it, or it found you, but it’s where you were meant. I need to make my own place.”

“With Laurel Plummer? I trust she’s going with you?”

“If I have to strap her to the back of the car.”

“How will you two reconcile your job with her moonshining?”

“Davy O’Connor getting killed shook her to her core. When she started out, she underestimated the danger. But seeing firsthand all the blood spilt, she’s sworn off. From now on, she wants to stick to pie-baking.”

“Well, I wish you all the luck.”

“Thanks. You, too.” Thatcher stood.

Bill used his cane and pushed himself to his feet. They shook hands. Bill said, “I’m not proud of lying to you, Thatcher. But, God help me, I can’t regret that I did.”

Smiling at Bill from beneath the brim of his hat, Thatcher said, “Me neither.”

* * *



Laurel returned home after running errands to find Irv and Mike O’Connor in conversation beside Irv’s truck.

She had visited with him several times during his recovery. He was still paler and thinner than he’d been before he’d been shot. The twinkle in his eyes had dimmed, and it would probably be a while before they regained their full wattage, if they ever did.

But when she alighted from her car and walked toward them, the familiar dimple appeared in his cheek. “Ah, here’s the lovely Laurel. I’ve been waiting on you.”

Irv made his excuses and went into the house.