E. P. shouted his guts out to a full tent of sinners. There must’ve been three hundred people seated in wooden folding chairs. They watched the big man pace the stage with wide eyes. E. P. was hollering like a fool, waving his hands in the air, shouting scripture. People hollered back. This was an animated crowd, bordering on rowdy. They whooped. They shouted.

He had never noticed how good E. P. was until that moment. The man was a master at reading his audience—that’s all good revival preaching was, discovering what made an audience tick. Coot had been good at it during his teenage years. But not like E. P. This man was beautiful.

The big preacher walked across the stage like he was pacing his own living room.

Coot stood in the rear of the tent, mesmerized. He had wanted to see E. P. make a fool of himself on this stage. He had wanted to see his greatest adversary strike out. Instead, E. P. was batting one hundred.

Coot was an usher. He wore his seersucker suit with a red ribbon pinned to his lapel. Joseph stood beside him wearing the same red ribbon on his lapel. Joseph whispered, “That fella’s a preacher and a half.”

“Yeah,” said Coot. “He’s good.”

“Look at these people. Looks like they’s about to start throwin’ money at the stage.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” said Joseph. “You ain’t said two words all night.”

“I’m fine.”

“You ain’t having second thoughts, are you?”

“No.”

“You want a drink to steady your nerves?”

“No.”

The head usher was a man named William. He was tall and balding with a small mustache. He spoke with a nasal Midwestern accent, and he obviously liked the sound of his own voice because he used it a lot. He passed empty tin buckets to the volunteer ushers.

The troop had been collecting money the same way since before Coot was born. Coot had seen it happen enough times to know how it would work. The ushers would collect money in tin buckets, flash smiles at the parishioners, then place the full buckets into E. P.’s automobile trunk. Some things never change, Coot thought to himself.

“Remember to smile, gentlemen,” said William in a forced whisper. “Let them see Jesus in your countenance.”

“Yeah,” said Joseph, elbowing Coot. “Smile, Coot. Let ’em see the love of Jesus all over you.”

There was enough liquor on Joseph’s breath to knock a hog off a stink wagon.

“You remember what to do, right?” whispered Joseph.

“Yep.”

“You got everything ready?”

“Yeah, it’s all ready.”

“Good,” said Joseph with a satisfied look. “Now relax or you’re gonna get us shot.”

“Huh?”

“I said relax. You look like you’re gonna catch fire any second.”

“I am relaxed.”