Thistle and Twigg by Mary Saums Page B

wasn’t my fault the caterers had set the wedding cake so close to the edge. Plus, if it hadn’t been one of those fancy five-tiered ones, which are very unsteady, with the fountain spurting out sparkling grape juice at the top, it wouldn’t have collapsed and got stomped on, and the band wouldn’t have got soaked when the grape juice tube came loose, spraying in all directions so nobody could catch it.
    ‘Then there was that other time,” Alton said. “Remember when our cousin Glendell caught that possum …”
    “Don’t even finish that lie, Alton Twigg. I was not aiming at him with that popgun. He ran straight across that clothesline and right in front of me and you know it.”
    “And then there was that time with the truckload of watermelons at the fireworks shack…”
    “Will you hush?”
    “Okay, okay. Seriously, now, no offense, Phoebe,” Alton said. “And it’s nothing personal, but it’s not ladylike for women to have guns.” He stood there, shaking his head back and forth. “It just don’t look right.”
    “That dead body didn’t look right either,” I said. “I daresay he’d be walking right now if he’d had a gun on him. Besides, I don’t have a big strong man at home to protect me.” I flashed a quick sideways look at Jack.
    Alton started in, trying to talk me out of it. Jack was on my side. “Maybe the little lady is right,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt to be ready just in case. It’s a different world nowadays.”
    “Thank you for that vote of confidence.”
    Alton still shook his head. “The world may be different but Tul-lulah ain’t. It’s safe as can be here. Just because somebody got shot on the Prewitt place doesn’t mean a thing. We all know how Cal is. Hey you know, I heard he sold some of his land to some contractors in Birmingham who build big shopping malls. They could build a mighty big one out there. Wouldn’t that be something?”
    “I heard that, too,” Jack said. “Only I heard it was going to be an industrial complex with a small airstrip for Ag pilots.”
    “There’s room for all of them out there,” Alton said.
    A shopping mall? I’d love that. Then I wouldn’t have to drive out of town to get pretty clothes and things for my house. Dreaming about spending money on home interiors wasn’t helping me at the moment though. I rapped my knuckles on the glass counter to get the men’s attention.
    “Look here, I’m buying me a gun today, whether you like it or not, Alton. Don’t make me go down the road and get one from Wriggle’s.”
    I took my box of Israeli bullets out of my purse and slapped it down on the counter. “Now. It has to be something that these will fit in,” I said.
    Alton and Jack looked at each other funny but I acted like I didn’t notice. They could make fun of me all they wanted to, I didn’t care.
    Would you believe, in that whole store, Alton didn’t have a single gun those would work in? At least, that’s what he told me. I wasn’t so sure I believed him.
    “These are for a real big gun, like a hunting gun. That’s not what you want. You need one of these here smaller ones.”
    My lips pursed into a tight line. I do like that when I’m trying hard to keep the wrong words from spilling out. What I do is, I let myself think whatever ugly words I want to and then push them out my ears. I play like they float out and evaporate in the air. Then I feel better without cussing somebody out.
    “I know what I want, Alton. One of those little peashooters would only make a bad guy laugh at me before he robs and murders me. It’s something my own bullets will fit in, or nothing.”
    Alton snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just thought of something. You know what you ought to do? Sign up for Jack’s safety classes.”
    “Classes?”
    Jack cleared his throat and ran a finger over each side of his moustache. “What I do, Phoebe, is teach folks, just like yourself, how to handle firearms safely in a one-day workshop. There’s a