The sheriff jammed his boot against the iron bars again. This time he used his heel to make the noise. “Up and at ’em, Preacherman. Rise and shine and give God the glory.”

The big man finally sat straight and rubbed his eyes. Marigold caught a glimpse of the man’s battered cheeks. He was black and purple, and his nose was swollen. His face looked even worse than the young man’s.

The sheriff leaned into the bars and said, “Welcome to our humble home, Preacher.”

The big man rubbed his temples and moaned.

“If you woulda gone peacefully, you wouldn’t be feeling so ugly this morning.”

The big man only blinked his eyes.

“Looks like you’re a very important fella, Mister Willard,” the sheriff said. “Very, very important. More important than anyone in this room.”

The sheriff waited for a response, but none came.

The sheriff went on. “So important, in fact, that the state police insisted they come down here and take you off our hands this afternoon. Said they got you on charges of fraud, theft, extortion, liquor running, blackmail, and . . .” The officer removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Looks like you got a trail of debts following you all the way back to Rogers, Arkansas.”

The big man let out a laugh. It was deep.

Coot leapt to his feet. He walked toward the bars dividing the two cells. He gripped the bars and said, “He’s a wife-beater too, Sheriff. Make sure you tell the state police that.”

“Domestic charges?” said the sheriff. “That true, Mister Willard? You beat up your women too?”

The big man stood and stepped toward Coot. “She was never my woman.”

“That’s right,” said Coot. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“She was a loose girl,” the big man went on. “Got pregnant on purpose. Hussy wanted to be with a big-time preacher, that’s all.”

Coot made a serious attempt at breaking through the dividing bars. Coot hollered until his voice broke.

“That’s enough, Mister Willard,” said the sheriff. “I won’t have you picking a fight in my jailhouse.”

The big man leaned backward on his cot and folded his hands across his belly. He seemed unaffected by his circumstances.

Coot pressed his face against the bars and said, “You’re the devil, you know that? The devil!”

Marigold touched the young man’s shoulder. She felt his fury, and she felt where the hurt came from.

The sheriff passed three large catheads into the cell. Coot took them and gave one to Marigold. They tore into their food. The ham was thick, the biscuits were soft, and the butter was even softer.