Part 33 (1/2)

Lloyd sent me a look, but I wasn't in the mood. When cops act abusive, men should cooperate, women shouldn't. That's how America works. I pointed to their car. ”You're Chattanooga city police. You have no jurisdiction on this road.”

Bernard raised his gun higher. ”This is all the jurisdiction I need. You snuck up on a law officer. I could legally shoot you. Do you want that?”

”Not particularly.”

”So, shut up.”

A.B. hurried over. He had this little, skinny mustache no thicker than the fuzz on Sugar Cannelioski's lip. ”Where'd she come from?”

I said, ”Wyoming.”

Bernard said, ”I said shut up.”

Lloyd joined in. ”Shut up, Maurey.”

I plowed right on through. ”We're moving to North Carolina where they don't sell Coors, and I love Coors beer.” Biggest lie I ever told in my life.

”So do I,” A.B. said.

”Well, I filled the trailer with Coors so I could always own a taste of the mountains. It's all for personal consumption. We'll never sell a drop. You officers are welcome to a bottle if you wish.”

Bernard had the posture of a pregnant woman-splayed feet, shoulders holding up too much weight, left hand resting on his gut. The right hand still pointed a pistol at me.

”We'll take more than a bottle if we wish. I think you're a smart broad.” He stared directly at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”I hate smart broads. Open that trailer, A.B.”

A.B. swung open the doors and two bales of straw fell out on the road.

”Looks like you're hiding something,” Bernard said.

”We've got horses to feed,” I said, figuring the idiot didn't know straw from hay, either.

A.B. ran his light over the batteries and tires to the stacked beer. ”There she is, as promised,” he said. It was worse than I expected-fifty cases, tops. Because Freedom ripped us off for three hundred dollars we'd traded away two thousand dollars' worth of Coors. I almost could have pulled off the personal consumption defense if they'd been intent on arresting us.

Which they weren't. Arresting us meant turning in the Coors as evidence, and these were good ol' southern boys. They viewed beer with a finders-keepers mentality.

Bernard holstered his gun and picked up his flashlight. ”You.” He motioned to Lloyd. ”Inside.”

”Think it'll all fit?” A.B. asked.

”If it don't, we'll make two trips.”

They formed a bucket brigade. Lloyd brought a case to the rear of the trailer and pa.s.sed it down to A.B., who carried it to Bernard, who stacked it in the backseat of the Chattanooga patrol car. I stood off to the side and felt helpless. That was my Coors those jerks were stealing. I'd gone to a lot of trouble to get that beer and keep it, and now two cracker Tennessee cops were taking it away from me. If I only had Charley, I could have tried a bulletless bluff, but I'd gotten drunk and lost him, too. All my life I'd felt helpless because all my life I'd been helpless.

Bernard was an efficient stacker. He squeezed cases in four across and three high on the seat plus another six on the floor. When the interior filled up he pulled out his keys and opened the trunk. That's when he saw me hovering in the darkness.

”Quit hiding like a n.i.g.g.e.r,” he said. ”You make me nervous. Go on up and stay with the others, and no funny business. I won't tolerate sneaking around.”

”Yes, ma.s.sah.”

”Git.”

I thought about running for help. A few house lights glimmered at the far end of the straightaway. One thing I'd noticed about the South is you're practically always within a mile or two of a house. Nothing like Wyoming. But what would I say to the people in the houses-”Two policemen are stealing my illegal beer. Call the cops”?

I climbed in the driver's side and sat behind the wheel.

”What's going on out there?” Marcella asked.

”They're taking the Coors.”

Shane made a sound like a little dog when you step on its tail. ”That's my beer. They can't steal my beer.”

”Go tell them that.”

”I might condone an arrest. Criminality was an accepted risk, but for lawmen to steal from us...” For once, Shane ran out of big words.

Andrew was on his feet. ”We should always obey the policeman. He is our friend.”

”That's a lie they teach you in the first grade,” I said. ”The police hate you and will hurt you whenever they can.”

Popped that little sucker's bubble. He turned to Marcella for the truth, but she could hardly deny it. ”Where's Hugo?” she asked.

”I suppose we lost him. He didn't expect us to double back,” I said.

I studied my crew. Andrew was scared, Brad defiant. My guess is he'd been involved in rip-offs before. Marcella's hands kept traveling from Andrew to Hugo Jr. and back, either rea.s.suring them or herself.

Shane's face was a torment of twitches. ”The villains can't take all the beer. It won't fit.”

”They're planning several trips. I imagine one will hold us here while the other one goes off somewhere to unload.”

Shane said, ”Abomination”; after that we were quiet. I found Injun Joe, but only to hold him, not to drink. Normally, I was a pint woman because real alcoholics drank fifths and I wasn't a real alcoholic. Being a fifth, Joe had thrown me off the pace of my buzz.

I thought of a fact. ”They can't arrest us or they'll lose the beer.”

”First thing tomorrow I shall report this behavior to their superiors,” Shane said.

Andrew was more direct. ”If I had my pistol I'd shoot the policeman.”

”That's the way,” Brad said. ”Freedom wasn't wrong about everything. He told me a million times, 'Never trust a pig.'”

Marcella protested use of the word pig even if they were thieves. Shane told about nailing a policewoman in her squad car in Ogden, Utah. Andrew pretended to shoot cops-”BANG, BANG-BANG.”

The babble roiled around my already confused brain, but like a drowning victim on a stick, I held on to my fact. ”If I drive off, there's nothing they can do to stop me without losing their beer.”

n.o.body spoke. From behind us came the sound of Lloyd walking up and down in the trailer. Way off to the right the lights of Chattanooga soaked into the clouds. I thought I heard thunder.