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.”
“To shoot at what?”
“You might come upon wildlife.”
“Or them Johnsons.”
“Same thing,” Laurel said under her breath. “Alter your route a little each time so you don’t create a noticeable path. If you see anyone showing an interest in the shack, or the same vehicle frequently driving past, be sure to caution Ernie.”
“What’s he like?”
Laurel hesitated. “Rustic.”
* * *
Following their introduction, the moonshiner and the former prostitute sized each other up, and it was clear to Laurel that both found admirable traits lacking in the other.
Ernie had reacted to the news about Irv with the expected concern. Laurel had assured him that his friend would heal. “But I’m afraid it will be several weeks before he regains full use of his arm, if ever. While he’s out of commission, Corrine will be assisting you in the distillation and bottling process.”
A taut silence followed that announcement. Then Ernie said, “She whut?”
“It’s a temporary arrangement,” Laurel said. “She’ll work with you only until Irv is able.”
Corrine piped up. “Don’t forget that he’s old and already has a bum hip.”
“I ain’t forgot,” Ernie snapped.
Laurel could have done without Corrine’s contribution and Ernie’s retort. She said, “The point is, his convalescence can’t be rushed, Ernie. You wouldn’t want him to return to work too soon and do further damage to himself.”
“’Course not.” He picked up a stir-stick and moved it around in a barrel of mash. He aimed his pointy chin in Corrine’s direction. “Does she know squat about making whiskey?”
“I’ve got ears,” Corrine said, “and I’m standing right here. You want to know something, ask me d’rectly.”
“Do you know squat about making whiskey?”
“Irv said it was up to you to teach me. That’s what Laurel said, too.”
He harrumphed. “It ain’t as easy as it looks.”
“It don’t look easy at’all. In fact, I’ve never seen a more rickety pile of junk as that still.”
“It’s my great-granddaddy’s design.”
Before Corrine could comment on that, Laurel stepped in. “Ernie, let me stir the mash. You walk Corrine through the process.”