“They wanna see you do something,” said Coot. “They wanna see a miracle.”

“Who knows what they want,” the sheriff said.

“They want to see a magic trick,” said Coot. “Whether they think she’s the devil or not, they wanna see something.”

“How do you know?” said Marigold.

“Just a hunch,” he said.

“Well, I don’t care what they want to see,” the sheriff said. “They ain’t gonna see it here.”

“Can you believe this?” said Joseph, who was lying on his cot, reading a paper. “Those hick reporters called me an old man.” He lowered the paper. “Coot, do I look old to you?”

“I’m worried they’re gonna try something tonight,” said Coot. “If they don’t get what they want.”

“Try something?” said Marigold.

“I’ve got three of my men standing guard,” said the sheriff. “But three men is all I got.”

“The nerve of those journalist hicks,” said Joseph. “Why, I ain’t even in my eighties yet.”

“You all have to get outta my jailhouse before someone gets hurt,” said the sheriff.

“Leave?” said Joseph, lowering his paper. “But I like the food here.”

“Where will we go?” said Marigold.

“Don’t matter to me,” the sheriff said. “But you can’t stay here or these people are liable to go get pitchforks and torches.”

A window shattered. A brick slid on the floor amid shards of broken glass. A paper note was tied around it.

The sheriff retrieved the brick. Without reading the note, he walked to the window and hurled it out. He shouted at the small clot of people, “Get off my lawn!” But his voice was lost in the sound of the crowd.

The sheriff turned to Coot. “Now, there ain’t no charges pressed against you two. As far as I’m concerned, you were never here. I’m expelling you from the jailhouse.”

“What?” said Coot. “You can’t just throw us out. They’ll kill us.”

“We’ll try to escort you somewhere safe,” the sheriff said.

“Try?” said Coot. “Who, you and the three little bears? Those people down there are crazy. Crazy folks do crazy things. We can’t leave this building—they might hurt her.”

“I think I look pretty good for my age,” said Joseph, who was facing the shaving mirror in his cell. “Pretty dang good.”

The sheriff stepped toward Coot and pressed a finger into his chest. “You don’t get the luxury of calling the shots. You know, I could have your neck stretched for trying to make off with that money, you and the old man. Two thieves like you.”

The sheriff gripped Coot by the shoulders and held him. “You are trying my patience, son. Now, you’re either with me or you’re against me.”

Another rock crashed through the window.

The sheriff hurled it back through the window toward the crowd and hollered, “Quit breaking my windows, you hicks!”

Eighty-Four
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