“They know their place,” Quinn said. “We had a talking-to at the Neshoba County Fair.”

Lillie wasn’t listening, watching Vardaman standing tall by the blazing fire. “Speaking of Satan . . .”

“His people say I make him feel uncomfortable.”

“Hot damn,” Lillie said, grinning. “I guess we are here for a reason. Let’s walk over to the fire so I can warm up my ass.”

*   *   *

“Where’d you go?” Bentley said. “They love you in there. Twenty people must’ve come up to me in the last half hour wanting to know who the hell you are. You’re like Cinderella in cowboy boots.”

“You tell them I’m just a redneck girl you found up in Tibbehah County?”

“Nope,” Bentley said. “But I did tell them about The River and all the good work you’re doing. Folks are ready to write you a check on the spot.”

“That’s not why I came here,” Caddy said. “For money.”

They stood together at the edge of the horse barn. But to call it a horse barn would be doing it a disservice. Bentley’s family had constructed the place, about twenty miles outside of Jackson, from polished stone and thick wooden beams like some kind of damn palace, larger than an airplane hangar inside, where they had a country band and an open bar. White café lights hung from the entrance down toward the pasture, where several horses milled about. Caddy wondered if her father had worked with any of these animals. Jason Colson had slipped back into Mississippi from California years ago without telling his own family and was more a part of Bentley’s childhood than he had ever been of hers. After spending some time back in Tibbehah a couple of years ago, he’d left again. Neither she nor Quinn had heard from him since.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to get the outreach building finished?” Bentley said. “You said yourself you couldn’t afford to put a roof on it yet.”

“That will come,” Caddy said.

“Why wait?” he said, smiling, looking handsome in a navy linen suit, white dress shirt open at the throat. Caddy had bought a new outfit at Belk’s in Oxford for the occasion, a simple blue shirtdress, little suede boots, and a small brown leather purse. She wanted to look nice but sure didn’t want to look like country come to town. Caddy had done her best to dial back on the makeup, just a few pieces of jewelry. She wondered if Bentley had told his mother what Caddy used to do before she’d gotten clean and straight with her family and God. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant of conversations. Momma, my new girlfriend used to work the pole up in Memphis.

“Let me ask you something,” Caddy said. “What was my father like when he was here? The first time. Was he a mess?”