“If you’re relaxed, I’m sober.” Joseph slapped Coot’s shoulder. “C’mon, loosen up, boy. People can spot a stiff a mile away.”

E. P. finished preaching, and a young woman guitarist took the stage. She was blonde and wearing a white dress with a ribbon for a guitar strap. Coot already knew which hymn the young woman would sing before she even opened her mouth. The same hymn his mother had played so many times her fingers could play it without the help of her brain. “Softly and Tenderly.”

Coot thought about his mother. His jaw tightened and his eyes tensed. Wearing a phony smile, he passed a bucket along the first row of people. They placed handfuls of cash into it.

The usher on the end of Coot’s row received the bucket, then passed it to the next row. The bucket returned to Coot even heavier than he’d thought it would be.

Row after row, people in overalls, plaid shirts, and cotton dresses dug into their pocketbooks and gave.

When the collection was over, there were eight buckets altogether. Coot, William, and two other ushers carried the buckets outside, behind the tent.

William unlocked the trunk of E. P.’s car and flung it open. The man lit a cigarette and checked his pocket watch. The ushers lined up, then set their buckets inside the trunk of the vehicle. Coot placed his bucket with the others.

“Where’s Brother Carl?” asked William.

“Who?” said Coot.

“Your father. Where is he?”

“Oh, him. I don’t know, he was right behind me.”

On cue, Joseph hobbled from the tent carrying two heavy buckets in his arms. The old man was wobbling like he was about to lose his balance.

William pointed his cigarette at the old man and said, “Quick, someone go help him. He looks like he’s about to drop dead.”

Joseph tripped. He fell face-forward. Never before had Coot seen a more beautiful, more dramatic fall. The buckets flew into the air. Coins and dollars spilled like confetti into the night.

William gasped. “You stupid man!” he shouted, tossing a cigarette on the ground. “You stupid, stupid man!”

William and the other ushers congregated around Joseph and began gathering the money.

Joseph writhed on the ground, moaning in pain. “I think I broke my wrist,” Joseph hollered. “I think it’s broken.”

Coot moved fast.

He went to the trunk of the vehicle and removed the six buckets two at a time. He shoved the buckets of cash beneath the car, just behind the rear passenger tire. Then he placed six heavy buckets full of washers, bolts, screws, and paper money into the trunk.

“Robert?” He heard William’s voice call to him.

Coot had almost forgotten his own false name.

“I’m over here,” Coot called from the other side of the vehicle.

“Your father’s hurt. Get over here.”

“Be right there,” said Coot. “Nature called, I had to answer.”