When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
15 Celia We did have callers, just as the men had expected. First, Mr. Bernard from next door, who was in his sixties as Walker had said. While quite fit, his hands were gnarled from rheumatism and I imagined it was difficult for him to complete some tasks. I was glad to hear Walker had stopped to offer him some help. He’d been kind, yet curious about me, but had not stayed long. Then came the Johnsons, the Rands and then a small group from church. While no one said anything to me outright besides town news—the pass was indeed closed—I had no doubt when they walked back down the street, hats low on their heads against the cold weather, they whispered about me. It was nothing I wasn’t used to. The last few weeks I was in Texas, the whispers and looks had been unbearable. I’d had no one t