Coot looked at the burlap sack full of money. It was full of four hundred and ninety-eight dollars. Silver dollars, quarters, nickels, and pennies. He didn’t want it. None of it. He knew that now. Now that he had it, he wished he could throw it into the bay and forget all about it.

Joseph said, “Ain’t you gonna tell me why you wanted to rip that preacher off so bad?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said Coot.

“You ain’t even gonna give me a hint?”

“I don’t wanna keep that money,” said Coot.

Joseph sat forward. “How’s that?”

“I don’t want it.”

“Are you nuts? Don’t want it? You’re the joker who made me go through with it.”

Coot was embarrassed. “I know, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“You change your mind more times than a woman. Now, are you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on here, or do I have to beat it outta you?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, it’s not your decision to make. I come close to breaking my wrist for those dollars and all I have to show for it are a few cigars I can’t smoke without choking.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep it.”

Joseph leaned back onto the hammock. He flicked one cigar into the bay water. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’ll keep your cut for you. Problem solved.”

“No, Joseph, I wanna give it back.”

“Give it back? You outta your gourd? They’ll hang us, or send us to a road crew, busting up little rocks with hammers.”

“I don’t feel right having it.”

“Why, I’m sure they’ll applaud us when we waltz right inside that dadgum tent and lay five hundred bucks at the altar, saying, ‘Sorry, folks, we had a change of heart! God bless.’”

Joseph swung his legs over the hammock. “Now you look here, young’un. I helped git that money, and that means I have a say in what happens to half of it. And unless you start telling me what’s going on, I got half a mind to whup you.”

Coot stood and lifted the burlap sack. “My mind’s made up, Joe.” He tossed it into the front seat of the truck. “I know those people, and they steal for a living. They always have, because they ain’t nothing but liars and thieves. I can’t be like them. I just can’t. Not anymore.”

“Hey!” said Joseph, leaping from his hammock. He limped after Coot. “This ain’t the way you ’n’ me work! Don’t my opinion count for something?”

“Sorry, Joe. This was a mistake.”

“You ungrateful little spit, get back here.”