Original subtitles

April 8, 1873.

I make this entry in my diary with a full and joyous heart, for on this day,

my 16th birthday, I become David Beaton's wife.

Even now, I cannot fully comprehend why David, so strong and determined,

although only 18, and to whom laughter comes so easily, has chosen me, for I'm

quite retiring.

But I will make him a good wife, and on this I am equally determined.

I do.

The ring, Davy.

I

reckon

you're a man and wife now.

Kiss your bride, Davy. She's all yours.

And this is David.

Lovely Bible, Mrs. Beaton.

Thank you for giving it to us.

And for having the wedding in your home.

It was our pleasure.

Ordered that Bible all the way from Sioux City.

Expect births will be entered by the score in due time.

wedding cake, David.

Eliza, stop ordering me about. I'm a married man now and not your little

brother anymore.

Come on, David. It'll take two of us to cut the cake.

David,

the

music's going to waste.

Never said truer, Harley.

You're dancing with me, Harley.

Never mind the cake.

Well, waiting and know.

Doc's got to be seen, too.

Have yourself a bite to eat, Doc.

No need to see to the chores, Davey.

I just wanted to thank you for giving me my time.

Though it's owing to you till I'm 21.

Most fathers hold their boys to that rule.

Always tried to treat you right.

Even though I seen you weren't leaving for the wild lands.

It won't be wild long.

Not with how the railroad's moving out. The town's bound to spring up all along

the way.

It'll be a long time before the Dakota Territory is a fit place to live.

Even with the Indians being moved on reservations now.

See how I can pass up this chance.

Not with the government offering 160 acres just for the filing fee.

320 for those willing to take a tree claim, too.

But you'll have to stay on the land for five years before it's rightly yours.

Five years can be a long time, Daly.

I got a three-year jump on that five thanks to you.

I'll make out all right.

And since I don't think I should stand in your light, I won't.

But you'd have it a lot easier staying here.

You and Molly.

We're not looking for easier Molly in me.

No, I guess not.

You'll be watchful of Molly, Davy.

Beatons have always been watchful of the womenfolk.

I'll see to her, Pa.

Well, I guess I'd better get back.

Just wanted to say thanks for giving me my time.

Baby.

I'm giving you the Morgans.

The Morgans?

But they're the best horses in the county.

Well, they're your favorites.

You reared them?

It's right. They should be yours.

And you'll need a good team to get where you're going.

Well, thanks, Paul.

I'll take good care of him.

I promise.

I know you will, Davey.

I know

you

will, Davey.

I almost forgot.

A ham, a cheese, and two rolls of maple sugar. Oh, thank you.

You may find you to them.

Don't forget I'll be going to Yankton soon to file my claim.

I plan to visit it the summer after this. So look for me.

Yes, sure will. You're all so young. Heaven knows how you'll cope.

We'll cope.

He is eager to get to Yankton to file our claim.

He is not at all pleased we must spend our wedding night sitting up on a train

full of strangers.

Are you telling me all the sections where the railroad's going is already

took? The land's been preempted by the railroad.

Dirty crooks.

They're all in cahoots with the government.

Are you taking a claim or not?

I reckon so.

Give me what's closest to where the train's going that ain't been taken by

the crooks.

All right.

Fill out this form. Filing fee's $18. Pay $14 now, and the balance will be due

when you prove up on the land in five years.

Take the best farmland you got.

Your pa'll have to file his own with it.

I'm filing for myself, not my pa.

I'm sorry, son, but you have to be 21 years or older to get a claim.

Not if you're the head of a household. I looked it up. We're married.

Boy, he ain't even shaved yet.

Took him a wife.

Now he's going homestead.

You two married?

That's right, and we got the paper to prove it. Simmer down, simmer down.

I took your word for it.

You have to look at the newlyweds.

Well, the land west of the Missouri River is wild.

All Sioux Indian territory, including the Black Hills.

This land is uninhabitable.

They're called the Badlands, and these other areas are Indian reservations.

Otherwise, you have your pick.

Acres, if it's near the railroad, or 160 if it's not.

How about there?

About six inches up and to the right of where the railroad's marked to go.

Yeah?

That'll be quite a ways from where town will be.

Suits me. I'm looking to farm, not socialize.

How about water?

Oh, plenty.

I guarantee you'll hit water 10 or 15 feet down.

How about a second quarter section?

You can have it if you're willing to plant ten acres of trees.

I'm willing.

Fill out this form, pay the filing fees, and this is a map showing you where to

land it.

I got it.

Takes a lot of gumption when you're as young as you are.

Homesteading.

No.

Getting married.

Eliza will be mighty disappointed when she finds she can't get a claim near the

railroad to sell for profit.

She doesn't want to sell her claim for profit.

Dr. Thorne is thinking a claim for Harley, and Eliza wants to be near him.

Have you ever seen such a big sky, Davey?

Can't say I have.

Guess we ought to turn in.

We're to make an early start.

I suppose so.

Did you like your supper?

Couldn't have been finer.

Are the Morgans all right?

Seem content.

Sure was a fine supper.

You already said that.

I don't suppose we can go on talking about supper forever.

I guess not.

Still, it was a fine supper.

You scared, Molly?

I'm not sure.

I don't want you to be scared.

Then I won't be.

I love you, Molly.

I'll always love you.

I'll always love you, Davey.

Always.

Must be the trees marked on our map.

legs broken i have to put him out of his misery walk out of ways molly

there's no need for you to see

I let my pa down.

I told him I'd take care of the Morgans, and I didn't.

I raised Whitefoot Molly.

I taught, fed, groomed him.

Pa wouldn't have parted with him for anything.

He tried to stop me from driving so hard.

You've got every right to say I told you so.

They'd be homesteaders.

Howdy. Howdy.

We're the Beatons. I'm Nettie Peters.

You folks homesteading?

We're on our way to our claim.

You folks about?

Mall passed on last year.

Paul's sick right now.

I'm sorry.

We'll make out.

Fever and ague come on them sometime.

This here's Charlie and Flora. They's my brother and sister.

You folks homesteading, too?

Didn't done with.

Couldn't make a go of it.

We're on our way to Yankton soon as Paul's fit.

Paul figures get work there, the town being so lively.

I hope everything goes well with you.

More or less, I reckon.

Howdy. You get back in bed, Paul.

Now, now. I just wanted to say howdy to the folks.

I'm mighty pleased to meet you, Mr. Peters.

Maybe you better get back in bed like your girl says.

Overheard your homesteading.

That's right.

As soon as I get the money, I'm going to try it again.

The land's gone like hotcakes, 50 to 70 miles ahead of the rails.

If you folks don't get a claim this fall, you might not get one at all.

Reckon we will or won't?

It's almost sundown.

You folks are planned to call today.

Please, for your company.

Please.

Join us.

We're aiming deep soon.

You're welcome to join.

I'm going to grab a stew. It's going to make you tasty.

We'll stay.

Won't we, Davey?

Suits me fine.

Thank you.

We'll share your stew. Only if you share our cheese and maple sugar. We brought

them from home.

Fine.

It'll be a treat for the young ones.

You get back to bed, Pa.

You feel fit later, you can visit with the young fella. Whilst I do the same

with the lady.

Not lady.

Molly.

Plain the name is Nettie.

I like plain names.

Reckon it depends on who's wearing them.

I'm real pleased you're staying.

Since Ma died.

Seems like forever I had someone other than the Unns to talk to.

They ain't much for talking.

It's a pity you had to give up your claim.

Up to me, we'd stuck it out.

But Pa couldn't see us going through another winter like the last.

The winters are harsh?

Never seemed nothing like.

Blizzards come on sudden and seem to never let up.

We would have starved if I'm handy with the gun.

Come out a whole year for our other folks.

Soon as Pa heard the government was giving free land, I sure wish we could

have made a go of it.

Well, maybe you can file another claim soon.

Depends on Pa making some money in Yankton.

It doesn't take very much to file a claim.

And like Davey said, the land's being grabbed up.

Reckon there's nothing to be done about that.

I'm sure Dehu would be happy to lend your father the money for the filing

fee. We don't believe in being beholden.

I didn't mean to offend you.

I didn't mean to bite your head off.

You're hardly older than me.

How's it being married?

You'll find out someday.

Yeah, it ain't likely.

I ain't much to look at.

That's not true.

I wish, though, I could talk fine like you.

Never had no real schooling.

Don't know much, except how to make do.

I'll never be a lady like you.

I think you're a lady.

No, I'm just Nettie Peters, and I ain't likely to be much more.

All right.

We'll be on our way, Molly.

I can't wait to see our land.

Mr.

Peters, I hope things work out for you.

Well, it can't get much worse. It might get better.

Nettie, thanks for your hospitality.

It was a real treat meeting you.

A treat for me, too.

I never had a real friend close to my own age.

Well, you have one now.

Let's go, Molly.

You'll be seeing us one day.

Count on it.

You know where our land lies.

If you come our way, look us up.

We've finally reached Wild Roads. So raw and new, it's scarcely a town at all.

After Davey buys supplies and the horse to replace Whitefoot, we begin the final

stage of our journey.

Here's the damages.

It comes to this much?

Two dollars a pound for sugar?

Stuff's got to be hauled in.

At two dollars a pound, we'll do without sugar, thank you.

Search yourself.

Hello there.

You a homesteading young fella?

That's right.

Name's Beaton. How are you?

I'm Brendan Doyle, construction boss for the Chicago Northwestern here.

I'm pleased to meet you. This is my wife. Oh, very nice to meet you, Mrs.

Beaton. Hey, come over here, Dad.

This is young Dan Gray.

He's homesteading, too.

I wish I'd thought to take myself a wife.

Gets mighty lonely out on the prairie.

Where's your climbing?

North and east of here, about a half day's ride.

That is, if my broke-down horse don't stop to take a nap.

Then we're neighbors, more or less.

Well, that's a stroke of luck.

Wouldn't cost a third of this back home.

You ain't back home, Sonny.

Hey, listen, you two young fellas.

Now, any time you need to make some cash money, I'll be glad to give you a job

hauling on the railroads. We always need hands.

Might take you up on that. Yeah, you know, you might need some railroad ties

for your house.

I can always let you have them cheap.

Thanks. Might take you up on that, too. Right-o.

Bye-bye.

Hope we'll be seeing you.

You bet.

I like Dan Gray.

Doyle seems to be a good sort.

And I wouldn't give two bits for that Loftus that waited on us.

Imagine, $2 a pound for sugar.

It's a company store.

Loftus runs it for the railroad.

Railroad's trying to squeeze every cent they can out of folks.

$1.25 for each window.

$0.54 for every 18 feet of lumber.

$0.50 for one latch and set of hinges.

$0.19 for three pounds of nails.

And what was getting soaked, $45 for this mare.

The money's going faster than I expected.

Get up!

There's no cause to worry, though.

You heard Doyle say he'd take me on hauling supplies if I needed to make

some cash.

But, Davey, you have to build our house and the barn and dig the well and break

land. Oh, I can do that in no time.

I can't plan till next spring, so once we're set up, I just might do some

hauling.

I've never seen so much sky and open land.

The prairie is a lonely place.

So vast and so fraught with the unknown that I feel a pang at leaving Wildrose.

Our last touch with civilization.

It's prime land, Molly.

Prime.

We've got three kinds of grass.

Paul Slough grass that'll yield three tons of wild hay to the acre, thick

bluestem, and matted buffalo.

The best sod there is for making a house.

The sod house?

That's right.

There's nothing like a soddy.

To keep us cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

It beats a shanty by a mile.

No, I figured you said it.

Over there.

Seems as likely a place as any other.

who lives in that shanty, Davey?

Maybe no one.

Prairie's full of shanties of folks who gave up.

Davey, we've only one tree. What are we gonna use for firewood?

Well, we burn hay twists.

There's plenty of slough grass.

You twist it hard, and you tie it, and it burns like wood.

And of course, if a herd of buffalo pass, we collect their chips.

Burn buffalo chips?

I should say not.

You'll think different after you try twisting hay.

It's mighty hard work.

Thank you, but I just assumed twist hay.

And I don't know what good it is having a tree claim when we've got no trees to

plant.

Reckon the government didn't take that into account.

Now, let's set up housekeeping.

Get clear, Molly!

I got

it through.

You'll be able to cook inside now.

I'll get the tub and clean out the dirt. You rest a while now. You've been at it

since soon enough.

All right.

It'll do.

I'm glad it's done. You've been looking peaked lately.

It'll be easier for you now.

I've got something to tell you.

I think you better sit down first.

Is something wrong?

Oh, I call it very right.

We're going to have a baby.

A baby?

I might count it to be January.

We're going to have a baby.

A baby!

We're going to have a baby!

We're going to have a baby!

A baby!

Oh, I shouldn't have done that.

And you're to rest from now on.

No more lifting and carrying.

I feel fine.

The sun's burned you brown as an Indian.

Your baby's going to be a papoose.

Well, it's your baby, too.

September 1.

The saplings around our cottonwood tree have survived the terrible heat of the

summer, and if they live through the winter, I shall plant them elsewhere.

It would be a fine thing to have trees to shade the house.

Davy has finished breaking land, and since there's no more to be done until

spring, he and Dan Gray have gone to Wildrose to see Mr. Doyle about work

calling for the railroad.

September 3.

The weather has turned.

I recall what Nettie Peter said.

How winter comes on suddenly in the Dakota Territory.

Back home, it's Indian summer.

But here, there's already the smell of snow in the air.

Molly!

I didn't expect you so soon.

Is something wrong?

Just about everything.

Sit down, Dad.

Yes, please.

I wish you both something to eat.

I'd assume you didn't bother.

Don't feel much like eating.

Me either.

What's wrong, Davey?

Couldn't get a job hauling.

Is that all?

Oh, I thought the sky had fallen.

Well, you're not far wrong.

Work stopped on the railroad.

Not only in the territory, but all across the country.

Times have sprung up for the railroad are emptying out.

It's like a blight struck.

What made it happen?

It seems there's a depression back east.

What's a depression?

It's got something to do with the stock market, according to Doyle.

Not that I can make any sense of it.

Molly, we heard in town there's places where men are rioting because they got

no way to feed their families.

Oh, Davey.

Those poor people.

You sure glad right now I don't have a family to worry over?

I do.

I didn't mean to sound unfeeling, Dave.

I know that.

We'll be all right, Davey.

We've staples enough if we use them sparingly. You can hunt.

I found a whole patch of sheep's oil the other day, and I pickled it. You're

going home to your folks.

What?

I told Mrs. Doyle about the baby, and she says you need womenfolk around when

your time comes.

So you're going home to your folks until after the baby's born.

No.

I won't leave you, Davy. No use arguing, Molly.

My mind's set.

I have money for your fare.

I found these waiting for me at the post office.

One from Eliza and one from Dr. Thorne.

They both took claims not too far out of town, just as close as they could get to

where the railroad was supposed to go.

Now, Dr. Thorne left $40 to put a shanty up on Harley's claim, just like I said

he would.

Now, I figure with you safe with your folks, I can go back and forth and work

on the shanties.

In springtime, you'll come back here.

You and the baby.

I won't go!

Yes, you will!

Now, I'm not about to take a chance if something happened to you.

The beaten say after their womenfolk.

I'll leave you two to work this out.

I just assume you stayed, Dan. Maybe you can talk some sense into Molly.

No, not me. I just assumed Tango was a bobcat.

You're going home.

Only if you go too.

I can't.

I'm not about to take a chance of someone jumping our claim.

What does that mean?

I guess you might as well know.

I heard in town a man was killed last week.

Killed?

It seems this fellow left his homestead to go east for a while.

And when he came back, he found claim jumpers had taken over his place.

There was a fight, and he was killed.

No law yet in the territory.

So now you see why I got to stay here, Molly.

Yes.

I can see that.

I didn't say that I'd go.

Only that you had to stay.

And if you stay, I stay.

It would be cruel to let you have the baby out in this prairie in the dead of

winter and all alone.

I wouldn't be alone, Davey.

I'd have you.

I'm not afraid.

And it was always in my mind to have the baby born on our own land.

October 1.

David has finished Eliza's shanty and will soon finish Harley's.

He leaves before daylight and comes home long after dark, tired to the bone but

content as I am.

I made a little shirt for the baby and embroidered it with feather stitching.

I don't know why I got the fool idea to show you Eliza and Harley's shanties.

I wanted to see them.

And the weather was fine when we set out.

It's not changing in a hurry.

Looks like snow.

Get up, Rick.

Come on, Star.

Come on. Come on, you two fools.

It's over, Molly.

Oh, Davy.

Someday... I'll tell our child how you made a nest for him.

Even before he came into the world.

And you kept him safe and snug through a terrible blizzard.

I love you, Molly.

We love each other, Davey.

And isn't that a fine thing?

January 16th.

Christmas has come and gone, our first Christmas on the prairie.

My time is almost here, and though I will not tell Davy, I have begun to fear

somewhat and truly wish my mother were close by.

We are fortunate some lumber remained from Harley's shanty, for Davy has used

it to make a fine cradle for the baby.

It was his thought to carve two little birds in a nest on the headboard.

A lovely thought.

Stop looking so solemn, Davey.

Having a baby's a natural thing.

But you've been hurting for two days.

The pain comes and goes. It's not so bad.

Bring me my sewing basket, Davey.

There are no state to sew.

Just bring it to me, Davey.

Is the water in the tub warm yet?

Bring in some more hay twists.

Leave plenty.

Do as I say, Davey.

Well, is it all right to leave?

Yes, of course.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to yell at you.

Go to the barn and see to the horses.

Bring in Haytwist.

You'll be ours yet before the baby comes.

So there's no need for you to be concerned.

I think I'll sleep for a while now.

Molly!

I'm all right, David.

Just a little tired.

Take the baby.

Wash him.

Wrap him.

Put him in the cradle near the fire.

Oh, Molly.

Don't you want to see your son?

What are you doing, Davey?

Had a good long sleep this time.

I know.

This is what I wrote in the Bible.

Born to David and Molly Beaton.

January 18, 1874.

I promise.

You have to enter his name, too.

I've been thinking on name.

What did he choose?

David, of course.

I guess he wouldn't mind being called Little Davey.

How is he?

He's been fidgeting again.

I guess he's hungry.

Bring him to me, then.

He won't break, you know.

I'm not so sure. He's so spindly.

A mare has a foal and the foal's up on its feet right off.

Babies aren't foals.

I'm sure help if they were.

The world's a fine place, little baby.

I hope you're going to like it.

Whoa. Little Davy sleeping?

Yes, thank goodness.

I'll be going to town tomorrow for the seed.

Mostly wheat and corn.

Write down what you want.

I already have.

And don't forget to pick out potatoes with eyes in them so I can plant them.

Never heard one in such a hurry for his dinner.

Good day. Good day.

I am Svensson.

This is wife.

Where is Mrs.? I'm Mrs. Beaton.

But you are little girl.

Not really.

We move in now to Chenty.

There.

Oh.

Oh. I hoped someone would take that claim.

Please, come in and I'll make you some coffee.

My husband's gone to town, but he'll be over to see you as soon as he returns.

Thank you. Thank you. But we stop here now.

Used to say...

We are neighbors.

My wife does not speak English so good like me.

With us have been no children ever.

Wife is lonesome.

I'm sorry.

They're lovely people, baby.

Of course, they're quite old.

Mrs. Svensson must be at least 35, and Mr. Svensson, 40.

But it's so good having neighbors.

Sure is.

Make it easier when I have to leave you. There's folks close by.

It's like having Mama and Papa near.

Guess you miss your folks more than you said, huh?

Let us help.

made no mention of Eliza coming out this summer, so I guess that means Harley's

off somewhere again.

Still got it in your mind Eliza set her cap for Harley.

I know it.

A woman knows such things.

July 1.

The days pass and work.

Davy falls asleep the moment his head touches the pillow.

Little Davy is teething and the heat makes him fretful.

Dan went to town and brought back letters from Eliza and Dr. Thorne.

Both send money to pay Davy to break their land, which the government

requires if they're not to forfeit their claims.

how long it'll take to do both jobs.

It might take two weeks for the going and coming.

So don't get worried.

I won't.

And I'll need Suspenson to visit, so I won't be lonely.

I'll be lonely.

You're too tired to be lonely.

I'm never that tired.

Don't forget to water the saplings.

And don't let little Davey bully you.

I'll be firm with him.

She is devil this country.

Hot like fire in summer.

It'll be cooler when there are trees.

Government say plant trees.

But we have no trees to plant.

Our cottonwood is seeding. I'll be happy to share the seeds with you.

We will be old before the trees will grow.

For you...

There is time for us.

Not so much time.

Are you glad to see me? I was little Davey. Oh, yeah, it's fun. Put me down.

Come on.

Come on.

The clock's up. I know.

Just look at it, Molly.

Good.

The corn looks great, and the wheat will run 40 bushels to the acre. I'll eat my

half. Do you know what wheat's worth out here now?

A dollar a bushel.

This crop's worth $2,000, Molly.

$2,000, and I only planted part of our land.

Oh, do you think we could get a milch cow? Little baby's almost weaned.

We'll get her herd of cows, and we'll fence our land.

And I'll buy you a silk dress.

And I'll keep my eye out for another Morgan.

And I'll buy you a buggy to go with him.

Wouldn't it be better not to plan until you've sold our crop?

I don't have to.

That weed is money in the bank. I can get all the credit on it. I won.

We're rich, Molly.

We're rich.

Rich, rich, rich.

August 4th.

Davey went to Wild Rose.

I would rather he waited to buy things other than necessities until the crop is

in. But I am more cautious by nature.

The soap refuses to harden because there's no wood ash.

Perhaps it's also the heat, for it's unrelenting.

Little Davey is covered with a rash, although I bathe him three and four

times a day.

She's a beautiful cow, Davey. And my mind's set on getting you a milch cow.

She must have been costly.

Didn't come cheap.

Cook stove, either. Cook stove's made of real cast iron.

Oh, it's a fine stove.

And I'm glad you got the cow.

You spend so much money, Davey.

I got it all on credit. I told you I'd have no trouble getting credit on a prop

like ours.

You know what else I got?

Beefsteak, sugar, raisins.

And this for little Davey.

I just don't like our being in debt, Davey. Oh, we're good for the money, and

I got you a present, too.

Now, I told you there's no need for you to go and get presents for me. And I

told you that I have a need to give them, so...

Go ahead and open it.

Davy, it's beautiful.

Struck me as a likely place to keep that diary you're always writing in.

Yes.

I'll treasure it.

You know what I want you to write in the diary?

What?

There's no country like this on Earth.

And we own a piece of it.

We won't really own our own piece for it.

Another three years.

Three years will pass by quicker than a wink, and it'll be ours.

You're not eating.

It's too hard to eat.

Will the heat hurt the crop?

It's thriving now.

I'll cut it at the end of next week.

Corn's almost ready.

Anzac Storm's coming up.

Not a thorn.

Something.

What is it, Davey?

Great God Almighty.

Christ is great.

Get the kerosene and some hay twists.

The dead in the house!

There's no saving the clock.

I know.

I'll fix some vinegar and water for you to drink.

I owe 300 to the company store.

We have nothing.

Don't say that, David.

We've still got each other.

And little Davey in the land is still here.

And I know you.

He won't give up or give in, David, not you.

I guess I won't let that.

Drink it.

It'll make you feel better.

They could eat more quietly.

Thinking how to get us out of this.

We should be able to get some kind of job in town.

Until we get squared away.

That's a fine idea.

I forgot about the potatoes.

The grasshoppers ate the tops, but they couldn't get to the potatoes.

Guess there's always a bright side.

Heard grasshopper plagues don't come more than once in seven years, huh?

We got seven years to get rich again.

I'll head for town tomorrow.

If I get a job, I'll... I'll stick with it and send

you word.

But if I don't hear, I won't worry.

I'll know you're working.

David, I'm so glad. I didn't know when to expect you.

No jobs to be had, Molly.

Seems everyone went into town looking for work as soon as they saw what they'd

planned was gone.

The whole territory's in the same fix.

Sit down, David.

I'll fix something for you to eat. No, I don't feel much like eating.

Now, sit with me, Molly.

We have to go home, Molly.

No.

You don't think I like going home admitting I'm licked?

Don't.

I don't see any other way out of it.

Cut maybe one.

I met up with this fella who said that he'd heard that the grasshoppers didn't

touch the crops in Indiana or Ohio.

Now, it's harvest time there.

And they'll soon be needing hands. Now, I can go there, but you've got to go

home to your folks with little Davy. You go where there's work.

But I'm staying here so no one takes our land.

I can't leave you and little Davy alone here for so long.

It wouldn't be for all that long, David.

Only through the harvest.

And I've the Svensons nearby, and Dan.

Even so, I'd feel a lot easier in my mind if you went home.

No, you wouldn't.

You'd be worried sick about claim jumpers.

I can see I'm going to have as much luck talking you into going home as I did

last time.

This is my home.

All right.

Now I have to take back the stove and the cow.

Loftus would just claim them for the debt.

Then take them back.

I'll say sorry about the cow.

I'm sorry, Molly.

We'll get another one.

Well, I'd feel a lot better if you'd carry on about it.

The corn cake's in a little pile of that sheep's soil I put up.

It isn't much.

Bad deal with the company store, did I?

Should have enough flour, salt, molasses, kerosene to hold you till I

get back.

Still wish Loftus hadn't attached our horses.

It's the best thing that could have happened now.

What with the price of feed.

He'll be glad to get them off his hands when I get back.

I'll write you as soon as I can.

As soon as they drop the... Team off with Loftus, I'll head for the train and

ride the rails east.

Be back before the snow flies.

And we'll have a fine winter together.

Nothing to do but keep warm and snug and watch little Davy grow.

Molly. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back.

August Clint.

Dear wife Molly, I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well and hope

you are the same.

I have a job in the Rothlin Feed and Grain Mill.

Thirty a month and found.

Mr. Rothlin treats me fine. He's all wool and a yard wide.

I've been away only three weeks, but it seems more like three months. I miss you

so much.

I'll be home in October seeing the milling will go on past harvest, so...

You look for me then.

Kisses for you and little Davey.

Got a letter for you from Dave.

Oh, buddy.

Thank you.

I'll be glad to take one back to town for you next time I go. Oh, that's okay.

I'm sure Davey's written to tell me he's on his way home.

But stop by any time. I'll be glad for the company. I'll do that.

How's little Davey?

Couldn't be finer.

I can see you're itching to get to that letter, so I'll be going.

Thanks for bringing it by.

Dear wife Molly, I don't want you to worry, but I've met with an accident and

my leg is broke.

The doc says I'm mending fast and will not be late.

Since I don't know for sure how soon I can travel and winter is coming on, I

want you and little Davy to stay with the Spencers.

You are not to worry about claim jumpers, since you and little Davy are

what's most important to me.

I know you're stubborn, but you must do like I say for little Davy's sake as

much as for your own.

So as soon as you get the house closed up proper, you go to the Svensons.

They're fine folks and will take you in when they know what has happened to me.

They will help you move your things, and I know Dan Gray will look out for you,

too.

I'm sending $20 so the Svensons won't be out of pocket for feeding you and little

Davey.

Rothlin's the squarest man I ever met.

He's not charging me for board or the doc's bills, and he's paying me besides

to work on figures.

I'll come home as soon as I can.

And I will never leave you again as long as I live.

It's decided.

We go now from here.

I'm so sorry.

I'll miss you both very much.

We go to town, sell things.

Then to Ohio, where is family and friends.

You may all right tell who's been come back.

Of course.

Dan Gray said he'd be stopping by often, and Dave will be home very soon. I'll be

just fine.

November 10.

The blizzard has gone on for five days now and must surely end soon.

Little Davey has kindly agreed to take gruel, for my milk has dried up.

I eat sparingly, only enough to keep my strength up so that I can see to Little

Davey.

Somehow I must get to the barn for the last of the hay twists.

would come if he could.

But there's no way for him to get here.

There's no more hay for the fire.

There's no more food.

The storm still rages.

I have lost track of time.

I'm strangely lightheaded.

I don't recall when I've ever felt so tired.

April 5.

It's strange, but it's only through the entries in my diary that I'm able to

recall the terrible winter.

All goes well now.

David earned enough money in Indiana to buy seed and supplies and also some

lumber, and he's made a fine and larger cradle for little Davy.

Mr. Loftus at the company store was glad to get our horses off his hands just for

the price of feeding them, as Davy said he'd be.

This morning, little Davy called Davy Papa, and I've never seen a man so

beside himself with delight.

The Spensons are back!

Mr. Spenson?

Mrs. Benson?

Nettie, it's you.

Just got here.

Knew you was our neighbors because Paul asked before we took the plane.

Just coming over.

Mighty glad to see you folks.

This is little Davey.

Oh, he's a fine looking boy.

It took us a time, but we finally earned enough in Yankton to get us a new start.

This time we're stinking it out. Pa promised.

I'm so glad.

You have a baby.

Fifteen months old now.

Seems like you got through the hard winter all right.

We got through all right.

Tomorrow is Sunday.

Will you come have dinner with us?

We've got so much to talk about.

I told Paul we should build a soddy around the shanty, and he's willing.

Well, now that our crop is in, I'm sure Davey will be happy to help build his

soddy.

What with work starting on the railroad again, it seems to me the territory

should be booming soon.

Before we left Yankton, folks were getting outfitted to head for the Black

Hills. Seems gold's been discovered there.

Well, there's gold here, too.

But it's in wheat.

Some day there'll be wheat as far as the eye can see.

This is where we're staying.

Dan Gray.

He's homesteading about six miles or so beyond the sloughs.

We're fine friends.

Howdy. So you got company.

These are the Peters, Dan. They took over this fencing claim.

It's mighty nice to meet you folks.

I brought you some mail from town.

Oh, thank you.

One's from Eliza and the other's from Dr. Thorne.

Town's planning a social after church come Easter.

Be horse racing and speech making.

Dancing, too.

Well, it's about time the town started acting like a town instead of a mistake.

We'll be there, Dan.

And so will the Peters.

Oh, I reckon.

A little fun couldn't hurt.

Well, you folks will be wanting to read your mail, so we'll be saying our

goodbyes.

Bye. Thanks for coming.

Bye-bye.

Eliza's?

All right, Dr. Thorne.

Dr. Thorne sent Miner to pay you to plow and seed Harley's land.

Harley will be out this summer.

Eliza wants me to do the same on her piece.

She'll be out this summer, too.

I'm not surprised.

Eliza's got as much chance of snaring Harley as I got of keeping up with a

jackrabbit.

Oh, it's a fine day, wasn't it, Davey?

Couldn't be finer.

Barring hailstorms, drought, and grasshoppers, we'll have a good crop,

Molly.

And it won't be all that long before the land's ours, free and clear.

And with the railroad moving out north and west and the territory booming,

we'll have a market for our wheat and a way to get it to folks.

Might get rich at that.

Well, you're rich now, Davey.