When the troop had arrived in Liberal, they held revivals that set the region on fire. Each service was a full house. People came from as far away as Wichita to see the child preacher. And these people had more money than those in other towns. The troop brought in more in four days than they’d earned all summer.

On their final night in Liberal, Blake had snuck into E. P.’s tent and placed the jar of spiked peanut butter into his cooler.

Now he sat across from E. P. watching the big man prepare a peanut butter sandwich on two slices of Sunbeam bread. Blake bounced his knees and grinned. He swallowed once and reminded himself not to stare at the bread. There was enough laudanum in that peanut butter to disable a Clydesdale.

E. P. leaned backward in his chair. He said, “I’ve decided after Liberal, we’re going to Oklahoma and Texas. Lotta revival work up there.”

“That’s more dust than I care to see. It’s bad down there. I don’t know if I can stand any more of this dust.”

“Friend’a mine says folks is eating up tongue-talking stuff in Oklahoma. And I’ll bet they ain’t never seen a young’un preacher like ours. Why, I’ll bet we could kill ’em up there.”

“Down there,” said Blake. “Oklahoma is below us, not above us.”

“And I’ll tell you one more thing,” added E. P., pointing his sandwich at Blake. “Old Coot would be a cash cow in the Texas plains too.” He sneered. “Just wait till they see a little boy on that stage. People see some kid preaching the Good Word, talking in tongues. We’d kill ’em up there.”

“Down there.”

“Say, what if we hire a minstrel band? Maybe work on Coot’s routine a little, with a few more healings, few more miracles . . .”

The big man took a bite and made a face. He licked his lips a little and grimaced. He swallowed his mouthful and stared at the sandwich. “This peanut butter tastes like it turnt.”

Blake sat so still he could’ve grown mold on his mustache.

“Got a friend in Oklahoma City,” E. P. went on. “Man who goes around studying little towns before a revival comes. Gets up there months ahead, digs up local gossip. He knows which folks is having affairs, which folks need prayer.”

“A clairvoyant act can be trouble,” said Blake. “Had a mind reader in the sideshow tent in New Mexico—a tricky line, takes years of practice.”

“If I push old Coot hard enough, he’ll do whatever I say. I told him to learn the entire book of Deuteronomy word for word. That little cuss actually did it.”

“You must be proud, E. P.”

“Besides, Coot’s getting older and uglier. We gotta add something to spice things up if we’re ever gonna make the big time.”