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up, sweetheart,” says Dad.
    â€œThe way Pastor Dawes told it, the drought’s all our fault, and he made it sound like half of us were heading straight to hell,” says Dara Lynn.
    â€œWould you stop ?” says Ma.
    But I want to get in my two cents before we change the subject. “Here’s what I don’t understand,” I say. “How are we supposed to forgive our enemies if God can’t forgive his? I wouldn’t want even my worst enemy to burn.”
    â€œGood point,” says Dad.
    â€œPastor Evans only talked about God’s love,” says Ma. “You left his sermons wanting to be a kinder, better person.”
    â€œAll Pastor Dawes talks about is sin,” says Dara Lynn. “I don’t know how Ruthie and her sister can stand him.”
    â€œWell, he’s not your daddy, so don’t worry about it,” Dad tells her, and then, to Ma, “Maybe we should think about leaving Becky home on Sundays.”
    But Becky raises up so fast her head bumps the table.Hell don’t seem to bother her as much as being left behind; she hates that worse than anything. “No! I want to go,” she says.
    â€œMaybe he’ll be preaching about something else next Sunday,” says Ma. “We’ll see.”

    I do my job of shoveling out the floor of the chicken coop. Then I ride over to Judd Travers’s place late that afternoon. Shiloh sees me get on my bike, he jumps up, ready to run along. But when I turn toward the bridge, he stops and watches while I cross. And when I reach the other side, he lopes back to the house.
    â€™Bout a half mile more, I pull up to Judd’s yard. It don’t look as bad as people say his dad’s place looked, but Judd’s not too good about taking things to the junkyard either. There’s still the old Chevy he had before he bought his pickup—car hasn’t run for a couple years—a shed with a broken door, old tires. But I try not to judge people by their housekeeping.
    Judd’s sitting on the step to his trailer with a boot in his hand, putting a new lace in it. He sees me coming through the trees and grins.
    â€œWell, look who showed up,” he says. “Come to see me or my dogs?”
    â€œBoth,” I tell him, grinning back, and I get off mybike. Already I can hear his two dogs yipping for me out back, jumping against the fence.
    â€œYou better go play with ’em, and then I’ll give ’em some supper,” says Judd, picking up the second boot and poking a new lace in that.
    I go round to the gate and ease in careful so the dogs don’t get out. They leap up against me, nipping at each other in their excitement. Dara Lynn’s not the only one acts a little nuts just to get some attention.
    I pick up two sticks, throw them both at the same time so each of the dogs has something to fetch, and once they come running back, I play at trying to grab the sticks in their mouths. They run circles around me, while I chase them. Keep at it till I’m as sweaty as I was this morning helping Dad.
    The new metal awning is up over the back stoop and I sit in the shade, catching my breath. The dogs come nuzzling up to me, wanting to be stroked and petted. The spotted coon dog even rolls over on his back a bit and lets me rub his belly, and the white one—a terrier mix—sits and pants for a while, then cocks his head to one side so I can scratch behind his ear, then cocks his head the other way. Judd had ’em chained up for so long they got to acting fierce just to protect themselves, butnow that we put a fence around the yard and they can run, they’ve settled down some.
    After a while Judd comes out with a bag of dry food and pours some in each of the dogs’ bowls. I’m glad to see he puts a good amount in each one, not starvation rations like it used to be, and got their water dishes full too. All Judd knew of taking care of a living creature was how