Bad preacher

bedroom door and quickly start

ces off the dirt road onto the little patch o

e. “Gene Parsons said this guy visited his cousin’s town up in Tenseness last summer?” papa whistles.

sn’t really show much of himself that a shirt with rolled up sleeves would show, but I know he’s touching the crucifix tattoo over his heart.

k past, or his “forty years in the desert” before he met mama. There’s a lot more tattoo ink besides a crucifix under his shirt, but he d

dad’s mechanic’s shop,

red crowd standing in front of a Winnebago

’s usually come

d. “God’s great green earth is a church, Delilah. And blessed men like Preacher Gabriel here a

, and I can hear the voice of Preacher Gabriel calling out scripture, and I can already feel the comfort of it.

s. “I surely hope

eful now that they’re dripping wet in the Lord’s salvation and love, and my heart beats faster. Of course, I’m already baptized, and

ldfire before he even got here. And even if you’re already baptized, papa says, there’

eep, melodic and booming voice proclaim “And

o gentle and soothing. It’s sounds like woodsmoke and leather, and mayb

her Joseph!” he booms, and my heart flutters as we sta

lder, and she turns with a big smi

ul, Jedediah!” s

grows. Papa takes my arm and pulls me through, and I smile brightly as I l

rt skip

egs

ile f

n inside my very body, and a shiver un

ops and rivulets over bulging, rippling muscles—arms like the arms of Samson

nd I feel nothing but sin. I look over the pulse-quickening swirls of tattoo ink across his chest, shoulders, and arms, and my heart skips. I look hig

e most intense, piercing, fierce gaze

eping into my throat. A heat I’ve never known before tingles thro

t me, and he raises a hand to crook

his flock weak in the knees with just a look. N

laces of my body aflame with the most wicke

r one that says he knows damn well that he’s corrupting my mortal soul with one

me,

wha