The Tent Read Online Free Page A

and he raised his hands over his head.
    "No!" Corey's voice was loud, filled the tent, and seemed to make the canvas flap at the sides. It was so sudden, it stopped the heckler. "I do
not
believe in hate, I do not
believe
in hate—God is a God of love. He loves all, all who come to Him. His love is in me, in you, in this holy tent." He took a breath, held it half a beat, and then, more softly, said, "I believe in love, the God of love who loves all things, all people, loves all...."
    And it worked. Steven stared at his father as he slid back into his rehearsed sermon. He was the same and yet somehow completely different. The tent was quiet, the people listening carefully to everything he said, and Steven watched, waiting for his cue to start the music for the offering hymn, and his father stayed in control the whole time.
    Steven began the hymn and passed the basket
and was surprised to see all the people put bills in, even the one who had attacked Corey. As he played the final hymn, he glanced in the basket and saw several twenties and tens.
    The people filed out, shaking hands with Corey at the tent opening, and Steven gathered the basket and counted the money. One hundred and fifty dollars and some change. He had moved out of the tent, and Corey came out. He was smiling strangely.
    "Did you see that?"
    "Dad—we made a lot of money. A hundred and fifty—"
    "No—did you
see
that? My God, I owned them. They were in the palm of my hand. I think I could have taken them into a fire."
    "But Dad—we made more—"
    "Did you see it?" Corey wasn't listening. "Did you? Did you see it?"
    And he walked away, smiling oddly, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

Watch and pray that you fall not into temptation.
    IT SEEMED THEN that all things changed and nothing changed. What happened was so slow and subtle that Steven didn't often know it was happening until after it happened.
    It came in stages, almost like scenes from a play or movie that Steven could only see after they happened and only understand after that, like when they went to Calypso.
    Calypso, Texas, was small and dusty and flat, like much of Texas. They came into town well after dark and delayed setting up the tent until the next morning. Instead of sleeping in the truck, they took a room at a motel and had no sooner checked in then the phone rang.
    "Hello?" Steven answered.
    "I wish to speak to the minister. Is he there?"
    "Yes?" Corey answered.
    Then only short words.
    "Yes. I agree. Yes. Please do. Fine. We'll expect you." And he hung up the phone.
    "Some men are coming to talk to us," he said to Steven, "about how we can do better."
    "Do better? We've only been doing this two weeks, and we're already making better than a hundred dollars a day. How can we do better?"
    Corey smiled. "They told me about healing—using the Word to heal."
    "Heal?"
    Corey nodded. "They'll be here in a minute—they called from across the street."
    And they were. Two men arrived within five minutes and knocked on the door softly. Corey let them in the room. One was short, balding, about forty and walked with a slight limp. The other was thin but not tall and had the start of a beard. Both
men smiled at Steven, and he nodded to them and turned back to watching television, although he used the remote to cut the sound down.
    "We like to help the gospelers," the bald man said. "We like to go assisting 'em to spread the Word."
    Corey nodded. "So you said on the phone. Something about healing, you said."
    The bald man nodded. "It's a true fact that you can do better if you throw in a healing—make twice as much."
    "How do you mean?"
    "Cripples, the blind, and the like. All you got to do is heal a couple of them, and those believers are going to
throw
money in the basket. It works every time."
    Corey nodded. "I've seen healing on television. You just lay hands on them and they get healed, right?"
    The bald man stood for a moment and didn't say anything.
    "Isn't