Free Hard Twisted by C. Joseph Greaves Page A

her.
    Inside the paper was the dented shortbread tin, and inside the tin was another sheet of newsprint, balled and nearly weightless. She hefted it and felt within the paper something small and hard between her fingers that she somehow knew, even before she’d unwrapped it and studied it and held it to the light, was a gold human tooth.

Chapter Four

YOU MIGHT RUN BY HIM
    THE COURT : Your witness, counsel.
    BY MR. HARTWELL : Miss Garrett, isn’t it true that you left Texas with Mr. Palmer of your own accord?
    A : Sir?
    Q : He didn’t force you to go with him, did he? He didn’t, say, drag you into the car by your hair or put a gun to your head?
    A : He told me we was—
    BY MR. HARTWELL : Move to strike, Your Honor.
    THE COURT : Miss Garrett, just answer counsel’s questions yes or no.
    A : I’m sorry. What was the question?
    Q : You understood the questions all right when Mr. Pharr was asking them.
    BY MR. PHARR : Objection.
    THE COURT : That’s enough, L.D. Just ask your question.
    BY MR. HARTWELL : When you left Peerless with Clint Palmer in May of last year, you did so voluntarily and with no physical coercion on his part. Isn’t that true?
    Lottie had dozed where she lay, and now she scrambled to her feet at the sound of the closing door. The downstairs voices wereloud and querulous, and she knew before she saw them that both men had been drinking.
    Lottie? her father’s voice rang in the stairwell.
    Coming!
    She pulled the chain stub in the little bathroom and examined herself by the glare of the swinging bulb, touching her hair and straightening the long, pink ribbon that trailed at the back of her neck.
    She found them in the kitchen, her father at the sink with the water running and Palmer at the counter, grinning and leaning on an elbow. Her father had his knife in one hand and the darkly velvet ears of a jackrabbit in the other.
    Palmer’s eyes crinkled at the sight of the ribbon. He bared his teeth like a beaver.
    Hope you’re partial to hare, he said.
    Her father turned. There you are. Did you get lunch?
    Yessir. Mr. Akard made us deviled eggs.
    Did he pay you that quarter he promised?
    She reached into her pocket and produced the coin for inspection. Her father grunted and returned his attention to the sink.
    Texaco Motor Oil, she told them, easing onto a barstool. Drain, Fill and Listen. That’s the sign we done.
    Why, that’s downright poetical, ain’t it, Dil? And sound advice to boot.
    I got to color in the Texaco star. Mr. Akard said I got potential.
    You hear that, Dil? This girl’s got po-tential.
    Her father either ignored this or missed it over the hiss and scrape of the skinning.
    What all did you do today? she asked them both.
    Her father snorted. Palmer cocked his hat as he straightened.
    Groundwork is what we done. He tapped his forehead with a finger. Plan-makin before risk-takin. Measure twice and cut once, my daddy always says. Ain’t that right, Dil?
    Her father half-turned at the sink. Your old man never cut nothin in his life, less it was the cheese. And what I’m wonderin now is how come we give up a moneymakin deal to throw in with that windy old coon.
    Palmer shook his head. Piss and vinegar. That’s ol’ H.P.
    Hot air and horse flop is more like it.
    Believe me, cousin. When the chips are down, he’ll do to ride the river with.
    River my ass.
    Law me alive. Ain’t you all of a sudden the doubtin Thomas.
    Her father turned again, pointing the bloody knifeblade. I’ll thank you not to blaspheme in front of my daughter.
    The mirth drained from the smaller man’s face. And I’ll thank you to watch where you’re pointin that pig-sticker, friend.
    After the plates were dried and stowed, Palmer crossed to the sink and lifted the curtain.
    Moon’s up, he announced. We’s already late.
    Where we goin?
    Not we, darlin. Just me and your pa.
    She looked to her father and back again. How come