“Joe!” shouted Coot. “What’re you doing?”

“Run, Coot!” shouted Joseph. “I got him right where I want him!”

Coot had never seen an old man fight before. It looked like the funny papers had come to life. He marveled to see a man his age fight without morals. Joseph kicked, scratched, bit, head-butted, spit, and tore, and no region of E. P.’s body was off-limits to the old man.

“Run, Coot! Run, boy!” Joseph yelled just before landing a swift kick to the big man’s vulnerable regions.

But Coot did not run. He knew E. P. would kill the old man if he did. Coot injected himself into the fight and shoved E. P. backward.

Joseph leapt atop the big man’s chest and polished his cheeks with both hands, saying, “Take that, you big, dumb, holy butthead!”

Coot tugged Joseph off E. P., and as soon as he had done it, he knew it was a mistake.

A gunshot rang out, scaring the birds from the treetops.

Joseph curled on the ground. He rolled in circles. The moans were unlike any sound Coot had ever heard the old man make. Joseph held his gut and lay on his side. Purple blood formed a puddle beneath the old man.

“I told you to run, Coot,” said Joseph. “You hardheaded boy.”

E. P. stumbled to his feet, holding a gun in his hand. The preacher’s suit was soiled, and his white spats were covered with mud. He fixed the gun barrel on Coot.

“I got no problem pulling triggers, boy,” said E. P. His face was bloodied. A trickle of red came from his lower lip. “Just try me.”

“He needs a doctor,” said Coot.

E. P. wiped his lip with his shirtsleeve. “He ain’t gonna get one.”

“Please.” Coot bent low to touch the old man. “He’s hurt.”

Another gunshot. Coot heard the slug hit the ground beside his foot. Dirt scattered where the bullet struck the earth. Coot leapt backward. “Are you crazy?”

The mammoth man trained the gun barrel on Coot. “Leave him alone.”

People were already running from the tent to see what was happening. A group of people hurried to the scene. The crowd formed around Coot and E. P. They made a ring around them, murmuring, gasping.

“Everyone stay back!” shouted E. P., firing a shot in the air. “This man was trying to rob the children of God blind. Nobody robs the chosen!”

“You’re done, E. P.,” said Coot. “You’re done.”

“Coot!” Joseph shouted. “I can’t see. Can’t see nothing.”

“You hear me, E. P.? You’re done!” said Coot.

A man from the crowd shouted, “Somebody call a doctor.”

E. P. fired a round at the man and missed. “Stand back, Kirkland. This don’t concern you, and it don’t concern no doctors neither.”

“You can’t do this,” said Coot. “E. P., this man is dying. Somebody call the sheriff! Anybody!”