As Ruth and Kid walked up the street, Lydia and Camille walked down it.

"Camille, Lydia," Kid said, a greeting and a question at the same time.

"Is something wrong?" Ruth asked.

Lydia, who held her 2 books, the sum of her belongings, spoke up. "Camille talked Joe into letting me go with her."

"Is Joe your father?" Ruth asked.

Lydia hung her head in shame. "I don't know who my father is."

"What about your ma?" Ruth asked. "What'd she say about it?"

Lydia shrugged. "I told her I was leaving, but she didn't say much." Lydia acted indifferent, but Ruth could tell she cared. "Can I go with Sister Ruth and Kid Cole?" she asked, turning to Camille and hope suddenly shining in her features.

For a short moment, hurt flashed in Camille's eyes. "Of course, you can. I don't own you. I freed you is all. You can make your own choices now."

Lydia moved to stand in between Ruth and Kid.

That apparently settled, Kid broached another subject. "I need to speak to the lady I spoke to last time, to see if he came skulking back here after Jefferson City."

"I can't help you," Camille said.

"Why?" Kid asked.

"Because she's not my girl anymore. The saloon's under new ownership."

"Why?' Kid asked again.

"Because I sold it."

"Why?" Kid was aware he was beginning to sound like a parrot, but he couldn't help it; he was baffled by the news.

"That's none of your business," was her sharp reply.

"Joe took it in exchange for me," Lydia said, understanding the situation at once. Wonder was in her expression that Camille would do that for her.

"Is that true?" Kid asked.

She gave a clipped nod.

"Where you going to go?" Ruth asked Camille gently. "You clearly don't have a home now if you sold your place."

"Somewhere. Girls like me always land on their feet," Camille said, still full of pride though she didn't have a penny to her name now.

"That may be, but you have to think of your baby," Kid said.

"There is no baby anymore," she said, her face and voice masked to reveal no emotion.

Condemnation appeared on Kid's face like she knew it would. Could she blame him? She wouldn't believe she'd lost it unintentionally if she'd been in his shoes, not after everything she'd said. She looked away and her eyes fell on Ruth, who was looking at her sympathetically. Did she see past the mask to her broken spirit?

"Come with us. We'll set you up in the hotel, at least until our finances run out," Ruth said.

"Why?" it was her turn to ask. She didn't understand such kindness. She had no baby to give now.

Ruth ignored Kid frowning at her because of the invitation. "Because God loves you."

Tears threatened to run again. When had she become such a weepy mess, she thought to herself? And who had ever loved her? Still, she accepted with relief because she had no other plans.

Ruth looked to the rickety building that was thankfully Lydia's home no longer. "There's someone I want to talk to. Go to the back door at the hotel. Tell, Cook, I sent you and she'll see that you're taken care of until we get there." Ruth knew they would have no trouble as the big woman had quickly grown fond of Lydia.

"Wait, will you give Ma this?" Lydia asked, guessing at once who it was Sister Ruth wanted to see.

Ruth took the Bible, her eyes growing watery.

"You're not upset, are you? I know you gave it to me, but I think Ma needs it more."

"No, I'm not upset. It's yours to give and I think it's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard of. I'd be honored to pass it on."

The bartender ignored them as they moved upstairs, recognizing them from last time, and Joe must have been off getting acquainted with his new property.

They knocked on the door, there was a garbled answer they took for permission to enter.

Florine was looking pasty and frail and older than she must have been, although seeing them brought color to her cheeks. "You got what you wanted, my daughter. I know it was Camille who walked out of here with her, but I know it was you that orchestrated it somehow."

"You're mistaken, ma'am," Kid said. "We had no idea. But deep down, you know it's what's best for her."

She didn't respond to that.

"It's not too late for you either. You can leave too. We'll find a way," Ruth said.

She laughed bitterly. "You really have no idea, do you? It is too late for me. For one, I'm dying."

"Dying?" Ruth repeated.

"It happens all the time," she said with false bravado. "You seen many painted ladies in their 40s or even 30s? They drink or laudanum themselves to death, a violent brawl kills them, they have a botched abortion, or they find a way out themselves and I don't mean they walk out of here. Or like me, they just catch something that kills them. My turn's come."

"It doesn't have to be that way. You can be saved."

"You mean with your faith healing? I don't hold with that stuff. Your kind always says sin comes with a price, well, now it's time now to pay with my life."

"But Jesus Christ has paid with His life. Even if you don't receive physical healing, He will heal your soul."

"Stop. I don't want to hear it. Also, I don't want Lydia to know what I told you. Truth is I've never been much a mother to her; I know that. But she'll feel responsible for me and I don't want that."

"What'll happen to you?" Ruth asked.

"Long as I can keep working, I'll have food and shelter. Joe don't care if I pass anything on." She cackled. "Kind of nice really. Joe's afraid to even look at me. I got me some peace and quiet when it ain't working hours."

"And when you can't work anymore?" Ruth asked.

"Well, by then I'll be really sick. Joe will throw me out on the street, having no use for me anymore, and I won't linger long."

Nothing short of a miracle would persuade her she could take a different course; that was easy to see. Ruth held out Lydia's Bible. "Lydia wanted you to have this."

"Stupid girl. I can't read even if I wanted to read that trash and I don't." Despite her words, she gingerly placed the book on her bedstand. She hesitated for a moment before pulling open the drawer on it. She pulled out an old piece of paper and handed it to Ruth to read. "If you want to crusade for women of the night, maybe you should understand that it's a little more difficult then just finding Jesus and walking away."

For the sum of 10 dollars paid into my hands on this day, I Florine, promise to prostitute my body for the term of 8 years. If in that time I am sick, one day to two weeks will be added onto my contract. If more than one, an additional month shall be added. If I run away, or escape, I am to be held as a slave for life. Signed X. Ruth gasped at the terms and why would anyone agree to this, particularly the last term?

As if reading her mind, Florine answered, "I couldn't read. Even if I had understood it all and what it meant at the time of signing, all I knew was that I had no family or skills and it was this or starve."

Florine's mind drifted to the past for a moment. "Even so, I tried running away when I got pregnant with Lydia. I think he makes it hard on us girls, hoping we'll choose to run. I didn't make it obviously. Tell Lydia I'm glad she's learning to read after all, so no one can ever trick her this way. I'm no fool. I know Joe didn't keep her around out of the goodness of his heart. If she'd been a boy, he would've given her to an orphanage."

Looking at the gift from her daughter, she said, "I was only thinking of myself, wanting somebody to care when I was gone. I didn't know how to tell her I cared. I lost that ability, but I did and I do. I'm truly glad she made it out before it was too late, but I don't want to see you or her in here again."

"There's always Someone who cares," Ruth said as she handed her the contract back. "I'll pray for you to see that."

The alcohol or laudanum, or maybe a combination of both, had taken effect and the woman had drifted into unconsciousness.

"There but for the grace of God go I," Ruth quoted, meaning it. A different circumstance of birth or event and she could have been among their number.

"Folks are so busy being high and mighty; they don't realize that women sometimes have no choice about ending up as a prostitute. It's a slavery all of its own. Sometimes like Florine literally."

She nodded in agreement. "I know I've learned some things."

Out in the hall, the source of his recent troubles was leaving one of the rooms. He hadn't even bothered putting on his shirt or shoes. He was creeping with a shirt draped over his forearm and shoes in the other hand. He must have gotten sight of Kid through the window and was trying to make another break for it.

Kid's gun was drawn faster than seemed humanly possible. "Take another step and it'll be your last," he warned.