Grace, Texas, is a town that lives up to its given name. ----a tiny, quiet, off-the-beaten-path West Texas community that seems like a throwback to a kinder, gentler America. True, they've got satellite Internet service, but they've also got a Dairy Queen where you can go in for breakfast and know everybody there. The school mascot, an armadillo, is painted on the water tower at the edge of town, along with the proud declaration 1A STATE CHAMPS 1978. A long time ago, yes, nobody's forgotten. The words are repainted each year.
Grace is a town where on a quiet Sunday morning the chief thing you hear are hymns being sung in the local churches. The interstate highway is thirty miles away, so you can't hear the thunder of the eighteen wheelers. But the mountains, thirty miles the other way, seem to be right in the town's backyard because the air's so clear. Grace may not be very big---POP. 2391, reads the sign at the edge of town---but the people who live there like it. Many of them have lived there their entire lives.
Little do they realize that Grace is about to come under fire.
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