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delivered many of their children. The doctors knew her skills as a midwife were far better than theirs.
    The day passed quickly as Grace and I spent the afternoon discussing gardens, children, and ranches. “Ricky! Put that stick down!” Grace hollered, as she rescued her inquisitive son from spearing himself on a tree limb.
    As I watched the scene unfold, I thought, I already feel like I belong here. These are such good people. I want to live like this for the rest of my life . Grace and I retrieved the cooled milk and eggs from the root cellar and carefully packed them for their ride home. We headed for the barn where the men were hitching Champ up to the wagon.
    “Grace,” I said, “I really enjoyed meeting you. It was so much fun to talk and share. I would be proud to call you my friend, if that’s all right?”
    Grabbing my hand, she locked her eyes with mine. “Girl, you don’t have to ask me to be your friend; we already are friends. She squeezed my hand and turned toward the barn. The afternoon had been so pleasant. I hated to see it end. With the kids in tow Grace and I walked silently toward the sound of the men talking. As we got closer, I began to listen to their conversation.
    “Frank, did you see those sport’n gals in church last week? Can you believe it? Those sinners have no right to desecrate God’s house like that,” Patrick said. “You would have thought they were respectable women the way they sat all prim and proper in the back pew. Drunks and drug addicts—that’s what they are. Not a decent bone among them, and they sat there like God would have mercy on their souls. We don’t need their kind here, and that whorehouse should burn in Hell’s fires. I hear a Madam from Denver is bringing their profession to Fort Collins. Well I, for one will not have any of it. My support goes with the decent members of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. They are already papering that house of ill repute with fliers and talking to the governor about strict laws that will end this sickness.”
    My heart practically stopped beating. The blood drained from my face and I leaned against the side of the barn trying to catch my breath. “Dear, are you all right?” I could feel Grace’s sturdy support as I gasped for breath. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Do you need to sit down?”
    Was I fooling myself? Would he ever accept me for who I am? His harsh words spoke volumes, and I knew he wouldn’t understand my history. As the lightheadedness passed I said, “No, I’m OK. I guess I am still getting used to all the fresh air here.” I smiled as I attempted to joke the seriousness away. The truth is always hard to swallow, especially if you have been living in denial . I took a deep breath and smiled convincingly. “Grace, even though I just met you, I feel I can tell you something in trust. I have many painful secrets, and I hope they won’t be the road to my ruin.”
    Grace looked confused and concerned. “Sweetie, what ever it is, I’m sure you’re strong enough to get through them.” We entered the barn, and the men stopped talking. There was a strained silence, and quickly Patrick changed the subject.
    “Frank, I’m going to drive my own wagon to church tomorrow. I have some things I need to do afterward, and I don’t want to hold you up,” Patrick said.
    “That will be fine,” Frank replied. The men tucked the children, who were cranky, into the hay. Frank clucked at the chestnut gelding, getting him into a gentle trot. Everyone waved and called out one last goodbye as the wagon lumbered onto the road. “We’ll see you tomorrow!” Frank yelled.
    Patrick and I stopped to watch the setting sun’s beautiful colors fade into the sapphire sky. Patrick stood beside me, warm and strong. Tentatively, I took his hand. “A penny for your thoughts,” I spoke softly.
    “Just thinking how wonderful it is here with you. In the short time you have been here, you’ve brought a peace