A Land More Kind Than Home by Wiley Cash

gun.”
    â€œWhat do you think a BB gun’s going to do against a snake like that?” Daddy asked me.
    â€œI’d shoot it,” I said. “I’d shoot it before it bit me.”
    â€œThere ain’t no way you’re getting a gun,” Mama said.
    â€œThat thing would’ve had you by the thigh before you could even give that gun a pump,” Daddy said. He reached under the table and grabbed my leg, and I jumped when he did it because it surprised me.
    â€œI just think I need a BB gun,” I said.
    â€œThere ain’t no way,” Mama said. “One gun’s one too many in this house.” She stood up and walked over to the refrigerator and opened it and leaned inside and took the butter out of the door. When she did, Daddy dropped his fork and acted like he was pumping a shotgun and he aimed it at her backside. I laughed, and when she turned around we both went back to eating our lunch. Mama came back to the table and sat down and sat the butter by the corn bread.
    â€œJess,” she said, “me and your brother are going to the prayer meeting tonight after supper, and you’re going to have to come with us.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    â€œBecause your daddy’s got plans this evening,” she said. “He’s having company over.” She looked at Daddy, and then she took her knife and carved out a slice of butter and dropped it on Stump’s corn bread. Stump picked it up and took a bite, and the butter ran down off his chin. He picked up his napkin and wiped it off.
    â€œI don’t need nobody watching me,” I said. “It ain’t like I’m a baby.” I looked over at Daddy. “I bet Stump don’t even want to go back to church tonight anyway. Me and him could just stay here.” Daddy crumbled more corn bread over his pintos and then reached across the table for the bowl of coleslaw. He spooned a helping onto his plate and sat it back down.
    â€œListen to your mother,” he said.
    â€œChristopher,” Mama said. “Do you want some coleslaw?” Mama picked up the bowl and held it over Stump’s plate. She waited, and I knew she was hoping he might say something. Daddy sat his fork down and chewed his food and looked across the table at her. “Christopher,” she said again. She waited another second, and then she sat the bowl down on the table and picked up her fork.
    D ADDY WAS STANDING ON THE PORCH AND SIPPING A GLASS OF WATER when we left for the evening service. The sun was on its way down, and even though it was September and I knew the leaves would start dying soon, it was still awfully hot outside. I rolled the window down in the truck and leaned out and waved at Daddy. He waved back and stood there and watched us until we went around the corner of the driveway.
    â€œI need to tell you boys something,” Mama said. She looked over at me and Stump. “Your grandpa’s coming to see Daddy this evening, and he might still be here when we get home.” She looked back at the road, and I stared at the side of her face. I hadn’t seen him since I was real little, back when he used to live out in Shelton where my daddy grew up. Mama’d told me I should call him Grandpa if I ever saw him again because it would make Daddy feel good.
    â€œWhere’s he been?” I asked.
    â€œLots of places,” she said.
    â€œWhy’d he come back?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œIs Daddy mad at him?”
    â€œNot anymore,” she said.
    â€œBut he used to be mad at him?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause he didn’t used to be a good person.”
    â€œBut he’s good now?”
    â€œHe wants to be,” she said.
    M AMA PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT AND PARKED THE TRUCK IN one of the spaces along the side of the church. Around to the right of the truck I could see people lining up and talking. I couldn’t see Pastor