"Heavenly Father, we call upon You in this, our hour of need."
Latham's fists clenched as he forced his tongue to form the words that he had not spoken in nigh on twenty years. He struggled to keep his eyes closed and refrained from peeking to see if any of the others had noticed his distress. The hatred burning inside his heart sent tendrils of doubt that threatened to seize his tongue. His mouth became dry and he swallowed hard, forcing the next words past his parched palate.
"For You are Shepherd that shall guide the wanderer through the desert."
An image of blistering winds and scorching sands presented itself in Latham's mind, and in the center of the burning plains, a lone figure, struggling to place one foot in front of the other. Scarred hands grasped feebly at the shifting sands as the man fell hard to his knees, exhaustion and thirst weighing heavily upon him. Latham's heart pounded within his breast, and his prayer gained conviction.
"You are the light that shall be his beacon in the darkness."
The mirage in the desert lifted his head, staring off into an unseen distance beyond the reaches of Latham's imagination, and slowly, shaking with the effort, began to rise. An unsteady step resulted in a near fall; the next sent him a few inches forward. His progress was slow, but the man was determined. Latham's knuckles turned steadily paler as he added one more desperate plea to whatever power lay beyond the sky for the welfare of his brother.
"And Yours is the mighty sword that shall strike down his enemies."
A bridge rose out of the darkness and the figure stumbled toward it, then hesitated before placing one foot on the cross-ties to continue his journey forward.
"For he is on the path of righteousness."
Latham paused only briefly before speaking the last sentence. Whatever powers that be would undoubtedly disagree with his statement, but he hoped that by adding it to his prayer, the God of the traveling evangelist would hear and have mercy, even on one such as Butch.
Latham let out a slow breath. The joints in his fingers protested as he untangled his hands, massaging the knuckles and struggling to regain his composure. As he tried to relax, the figure on the bridge stepped back onto land, seemingly with more strength than before, and the image dissipated into darkness. Latham took it to be a sign that his prayer had reached Heaven, and thus he sealed his brother's fate with one more word.
"Amen."