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my shoulder. “Glide the lever, breathe, aim, and squeeze the trigger.” Crack! Fur and gnashing teeth crumpled in a silent pile. “Glide the lever, breathe, aim, and squeeze the trigger.” Crack! The second nemesis tumbled, twitched, and moved no more. “Glide the lever, breathe, aim, squeeze the trigger.” Crack! The third attacker yelped and tried to run away, but his hind leg dangled uselessly. “Damn. I missed!” I knew I needed to put him down. In his present state, he would never make it in the wild. “Animals don’t need to suffer even predators like these,” I said.
    Quickly chambering another shot I took an extra second before firing to make sure I hit the mark. The tormented sounds from the animal stopped as his lifeless body came to rest at the hooves of the bawling cows.
    Silence. The noise from the rifle had left me momentarily deaf. Patrick scrambled across the yard and leapt up the steps. Stopping short he surveyed me with questioning eyes. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
    The ringing in my ears was dissipating as I shook my head. “We had coyotes at Lettie’s ranch, so I sort of got good with a gun.”

Chapter 7
    A s the big chestnut gelding navigated the roughest section of our driveway, I watched as the wagon bumped over deep ruts. What is he doing taking that route? I thought. The center is so much smoother, and he’s driving directly into the worst ruts. Their ride must be really rough; that wagon is bouncing all over the place.
    The answer became evident as the wagon approached.  Watching curiously, I began to hear delighted laughter coming from two little children as they careened wildly about the hay-filled wagon. Struggling against gravity and throwing handfuls of hay at each other, the children giggled and squealed with delight. “Bounce us again, daddy. Bounce us again!” emanated from two little yellow-haired children.
    “Halloo!” Frank’s voice rang across the yard as the wagon came to a stop outside the corral. He stepped around the wagon and gently assisted his very pregnant wife, Grace, to the ground. Her eyes glowed with obvious adoration as the man of her dreams held her securely until her footing was stable. Patrick was already beside her with a supporting arm ready to escort her to the porch.
    “Grace, how are you feeling these days?” Patrick asked.
    “Oh, I’m doing pretty good. Just feel like I’m ready to pop. Frank’s bouncing the wagon doesn’t help keep the baby any quieter,” Grace said.
    “Ada, I want you to meet Grace and Frank Teller,” Patrick introduced. “And these two little ruffians. This is Tillie.” Tillie squealed as he tucked her under his free arm. “And her little brother Ricky.”
    Ricky howled his disdain, “I’m Rick! And I ain’t nobody’s little brother!” We all chuckled as Ricky took a wide stance and put his fists into a fighting position.
    “OK, Pistol Pete!” Patrick swung the boy under his arm, as the giggling child succumbed to the tickles from his favorite uncle.
    This is what a normal family feels like , I thought. This is amazing!
    Grace watched while I unloaded the baskets of produce from the wagon and headed to the kitchen. “It’s been a good year for strawberries and rhubarb,” she said. “And I have a really good recipe for strawberry rhubarb cobbler if you need one.”
    I liked Grace immediately. “When is the baby due?” I asked.
    “The doctor says it won’t be much longer,” Grace grunted as she patted her swollen abdomen. “Doc Reed says the baby is breech, but he thinks it will turn before the birth. Since there isn’t anyone here who can help deliver the baby, I’ll go stay in town soon so I can be close to the doctor. I just don’t trust my darling husband’s midwifery skills. He’s good with cows, but I don’t want him ‘calving’ me!”
    I knew quite a bit about midwifery from assisting Lettie. Though most of Denver’s society women shunned Lettie in public, she had