Because Global Harvest had rolled out a gigantic dump truck, with a dozen employees of the Suulutaq Mine in the back clinging to the sides so they wouldn‘t slide out. The bed was half raised, inside which could be seen the employees standing calf-deep in candy. They were literally shoveling it over the side, a rain of— Father Smith stooped to scoop up a handful—Jolly Ranchers mixed with Dove Promises.

Everyone who wasn‘t in the parade was watching it, and next to him Iris Meganack unwrapped one of the chocolates and gasped. Look! she said, holding out the foil wrapper so people could see.

On the inside of the bright gold wrapper was the Suulutaq Mine logo, the golden sunburst with the line of mountains behind it. You had only to raise your eyes to the horizon to see that same line of mountains repeated against the eastern sky. That must have cost them a fortune, Harvey Meganack said, respect warring with envy in his voice.

Not as much as it cost them to bring that dump truck in from the mine, someone else said. How the hell‘d they do that, anyway?

Helicopter.

Herc.

Drove it in from Ahtna, hasn‘t even been out to the mine yet.

I wonder if they‘d rent it out? I got a hundred yards of Bloody Creek gravel needs moving. That puppy‘d get it done in a day.

The kids swooping down on the thrown candies paid no heed. They were too busy stripping foil and stuffing chocolate into their mouths.

Father Smith pocketed his handful and went for more, filling both pockets and the pouch on his bibs. He was only thinking of his kids back on the homestead. He cheered the parade and appreciated the barbecue to the tune of three heaping plates‘ worth, indifferent to or outright ignoring the baleful glance of the four aunties who had descended from the flatbed to work the serving line. Afterward he hitched a ride up the Step road with Oscar Jimenez, partner with Keith Gette in a greenhouse that marketed fresh greens to gourmet restaurants and wholesale food stores as far away as New York City, and cut peonies in bulk to florists worldwide. Rumor had it that they were partners in the carnal sense as well, which made them unnatural, godless freaks of nature and unclean to boot, not to mention no prospect as sons-in-law.

However, he did notice that Oscar was driving a brand-new Ford Super Duty Super Cab F350 V8 Turbo Diesel long-bed pickup. Their business must be doing well. He wondered if perhaps it wasn‘t his duty to try to help Oscar and Keith through the difficult task of accepting their true identities, to lead them from the homosexual wilderness into the heterosexual Promised Land. God wanted to heal them. Marriage was a part of that healing process. He himself was God‘s humble servant. These musings were interrupted by the sudden realization that the leather seat felt very warm beneath his hindquarters. He grabbed the dash, half rising, panicking at the thought that he‘d wet himself.