shirt, was knotted tightly

against his wrinkled neck. He reeked of cheap wine and week-old BO.

"Reverend, please, get in the car. Look, everybody's staring at you. Don't make me use the cuffs, Reverend."

Misery lights illuminating his face, Reverend Walker stared at the small crowd staring at him. Humiliation worked on his face, rheumy brown eyes going to the ground and back up to the crowd.

Mustering dignity, he stood erect, pulled on the hem of his coat and said, "All right, Sheriff." Unassisted, he staggered to the back of the cruiser and got in. The crowd cheered.

Sheriff Bledsoe got behind the wheel wondering what the crowd was expecting. A beat-down? "You still live on Highway Eighty-Two, don't you?"

"Take me to jail!"

"To jail?" and looked in the rearview mirror at theright halfway, a black crescent forming underneath. Her expression bewildered and frightened, she tried to make out her surroundings.

"She's all right!" Leonard said. "She's going to be all right!"

"Momma, say something," Ruth Ann said.

Ida scanned her children's faces. In a slurred whisper: "Was there a specific reason why y'all kicked my ass?"

"Wasn't me," Robert Earl said.

"Momma, I'm so sorry!" Shirley said. "Momma, we thought you were someone else."

"Mother, it was a mistake. We didn't know it was you."

Ida pushed Shirley's hand away from her face. "Sorry, hell! You punched me in the eye, put me in a chokehold! Who was it feeling underneath my damn clothes?"

"Ask Leonard," Robert Earl said.

"Robert Earl," Shirley said, "why don't you go hide again? I'll let you know if someone shows up with