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Show ~.. my father's house/ 216 er some of those women in the red-light houses across town?" blurted. "We can't bother them, Mrs. Jacobs. Prostitution is legal evada." "Well think of me as one of them, then!" Aunt Elsa shouted, slammed the door in his face. The policeman gazed at the door for awhile. Aunt Elsa led through the window as he scratched his head and walked to his car. But the rumors circulated through the ranch-houses and coffee 3 until they reached our town via ranchers and truck drivers dghway patrolmen. "You folks any relation to the Allreds over in Wells?" someone 3 my mother. "There are Allreds in Wells!" ray mother exclaimed, a trace of :ion in her voice. "Someday we'll have to get together and ! our geneaology." During these unsettled times, I added immeasureable complins to our situation. One morning in February, I was late chool and did not notice the unusual quiet of the house as pped into the frigid air. The metallic sky spoke of snow, thought of my father returning to Salt Lake from his week-isit. Half of me hoped the storm would abide until he safely ed the white house. The other half wished the storm to hit a fury, cloaking his departure from Aunt Elsa's, in Wells, even o'clock, the skies were unloading fat, pillow-like s» I stared out the window with my classmates, wishing to |