“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.

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.”