Pa jabbed a finger at the flaming cross. “No. You setting fire to this sacrificial symbol of freedom and love for all is the actual crime of blasphemy. Now how ’bout we set aside our differences. Y’all welcome to take those hoods off and enjoy a marshmallow with us.”

Not having the desired effect of running off our guests, the Klan skulked off into the night and never bothered us again with their hate. I asked Pa why he didn’t fight back or yell or something, thinking that’s more like what they deserved instead of an invite for marshmallows. His answer has always stuck with me.

“Fighting hate with hate will only produce more hate.”

“Whew-ee, is the Lord good!”

I snapped out of my thoughts and realized Pa had abandoned the piano and was now towering behind the small podium.

Shoulders as broad as the side of a barn, about six and a half feet tall, the man was a giant. The bushy black beard and matching thick hair helped to earn him his nickname: Paul Bunyan. I was his sidekick, always following him around. In my younger years it was so I could bask in the sunshine he seemed to carry, but now that I was older, it was to keep a closer eye on him for when the shadows seeped through.

Paul Bunyan, of course, was always seen with his big blue ox. So I didn’t take offense to being saddled with the nickname Ox as my pa’s constant companion. My five-foot-ten-inch frame was quite muscular and it was no secret that I was as strong-minded as an ox, even a fictional one.

A chorus of amens and praise bes rang out as Pa dabbed at the tears streaking the tops of his cheeks. The only time he cried was when he was happy, but I wasn’t judging him about it since my tears had abandoned me long ago in the good times or bad. I’d gone as far as hiding in the packhouse to pinch the fire out of my arm to the point of bruising just to see if I could find my tears, but nothing. They were gone. Like a lot of things in my life.

“The Spirit is calling for us to testify!” Pa’s voice boomed around the small building. The windowpanes rattled from his enthusiasm as the small congregation agreed with their own shouts.

Phoenix groaned from the pew behind me where he sat with Boston and Raleigh. “We gonna be here forever.”

I cut him a look over my shoulder and shushed him. He was just two years younger than me, and even though he liked to act big and bad, often running off at the mouth, my brother showed some respect by sealing his lips.