Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

“Yes.”

“It’s done. We have Arthur. We have each other.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “Would you want to change things back to the way they were before? With her?”

“No. God no. Of course not.”

“Then stop punishing yourself. Instead, take advantage of the reason you did it.” She unbuttoned her dress the rest of the way and laid it open. Except for the chemise wadded up around her waist, she was bare.

“We can’t, Norma. It’s too soon after the baby.”

She gave him a sultry smile and drew him to her. “Mama needs you.”

Afterward, when they separated, they were damp and listless and breathing heavily. Gabe slid to the floor and sat between her legs. He rested his cheek on her lap. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes.” At his start, she pressed his head back down and laughed huskily. “It was marvelous.”

“Tease.” He turned his face into her belly.

“You came like a fire hose. I hope it cleared your thoughts of Pointer’s Gap.”

He ceased the nuzzling and looked up at her with horror. “What?”

“Pointer’s Gap. Where your dead wife is buried.”

He gave his head a violent shake as though to deny hearing what she was saying. “How did you… Nobody knows that except me.”

“And Bernie Croft.”

Gabe forced himself to swallow before he choked. “He swore to me…swore that nobody would ever know.”

She smiled placidly and stroked his cheek. “Surely you didn’t think that ‘nobody’ included me.”





Thirty-Five



With Corrine assisting, Laurel changed the dressings on Irv’s wounds. They showed no sign of festering, but, for good measure, she dabbed on some coal oil before wrapping him in a fresh bandage.

Once that was done, she left him to rest while she prepared to make the necessary trip to the still and to get Corrine settled in the shack. There was no question of her happiness over her new position. She celebrated by dancing a little jig.

They raided the pantry and icebox for foodstuffs that would last her for several days. As they carried the parcels from the house, Laurel said, “Don’t forget your things. Did you leave them in Irv’s truck last night?”

“What things?”

Laurel stopped and looked at her. “Your belongings.”

Corrine swept her hand down her front. “What I got on is what I’ve got to my name. When Mr. Hutton stopped cussing and told me to get in, I got in. And anyway, there was nothing at the roadhouse I wanted bad enough to go back for.”

“Clothes?”

“This is what I was wearing the night I ran off with Jack. Gert gave me some castoff dresses, but she’s probably passed them on to another girl by now. Besides, I wouldn’t want them back. They were whores’ clothes.”

Laurel motioned toward her auto. “Climb in.”

She drove them to Hancock’s, where she bought Corrine three changes of clothes, undergarments, and basic toiletries. Once on their way out of town, Corrine said repeatedly that she’d never before owned things so fine, and Laurel believed her. The girl clutched the package to her chest, often peering into it as though she feared the merchandise might disappear.

Laurel was touched that she took such delight in simple necessities. Their moonshining business might yet fail, but she was confident in her decision to rescue Corrine.

The girl was even inordinately pleased with the shack. “I’ve never had a place all to myself. Can I fix it how I want it?”

“Certainly.”

She unwrapped her new hairbrush and other grooming items and lined them up just so on Irv’s old three-legged bureau. Then, “What’s this?” She pulled a tablet from the bottom of the package.

“What does it look like?”

“A schoolbook.”

Laurel had added the purchase in secret before leaving the store. “That’s right. It’s a primer used to teach people the alphabet. Irv told me you wanted to learn to read. The first step is to learn the alphabet.”

The girl ran her hand over the workbook’s cover as though it were the costly first edition of a classic. “What if I’m too stupid?”

“Nonsense. I’ll teach you. Let’s start with your name.”

“Right now?”

“There should be a box of pencils in the package. I asked the store clerk to sharpen them for us.”

Fifteen minutes later, Corrine had followed the guidance of Laurel’s hand to print her name. “Two of them?” she said, pointing to the r.

“That’s right. You must practice printing all twenty-six letters as you see them in the example. Capitals and lower case. Next time, we’ll go over the sound each letter makes.”

“I’ll practice. I promise.”

“When Ernie doesn’t need you. He’ll be putting you to work, you know.”

Corrine rubbed her hands together. “I’m ready.”

Rather than drive to the still, Laurel left her Ford at the shack and showed Corrine the shortcut over the hilly, rocky terrain. Along the way, she dispensed advice.

“As the crow flies, it’s about a mile, so if time is a factor, allow yourself at least half an hour to walk it. After dark, always bring a lantern with you, but only light it if you must. You don’t want to signal someone that you’re making this trip back and forth. I’ll ask Ernie if he can spare you a firearm.”