"You'll never make it," Reginald Dillard stated, clapping Clem on the back. "Best stay in my room behind the feed store."

"Can't leave the wife and kids alone in the shanty," the worried pioneer responded. He threw a concerned glance toward the building black clouds on the skyline.

"Could get halfway when the blizzard strikes," Reg grimly remarked.

"Chance I gotta take," Clem answered, donning his plaid hunting jacket. He wound the grey knitted scarf around his neck.

For the second time, Reg encouraged Clem to remain in town. His feedstore, two places north of the general mercantile, was stocked for the winter. Although cramped quarters, he would willingly make room for his farmer friend.

Instead of responding, Clem raised his hand to wave 'so long.' Reg dolefully shook his head as he watched the retreating red and black plaid jacket. 'Bad mistake,' he muttered to himself. Then, he stepped inside and stood with the other men watching a checker game.

"Shall we form the rescue party now?" Blake Miller questioned, holding his black marker above the gameboard.

"Nah," Reg grumbled, disdainfully. "He'll either make it home or turn back."

"I'll lay five to one he'll turn back," Zebidiah Wilson chuckled. "Anyone else want to lay odds?"

"Very funny, Zeb," Reg remarked, then he asked the store proprietor the price of seed corn.

Clem Holmes dug his hands into his pockets and trudged homeward. The angry clouds rolled across the sky to meet him. Bending his head, he walked steadily forward. His boots crunched in the snow, leaving a trail behind him.

Claim shanties dotted the prairie. Behind him, the small town became a speck on the horizon. He continued to progress toward his destination. Four miles was not far unless you raced a storm.

His left pocket held a small packet of peppermint sticks, a cardboard square containing sewing needles and a card of small brass buttons. The right containing pipe tobacco in a small leather pouch. Beneath his arm, he held a bundle of newsprint filled with serialized stories.

The family looked forward to new editions of their favorite stories. Before leaving the mercantile, Clem glanced through the papers for insurance their current choices were printed within. "Vanity Fair" by William Makepeace Thackery appeared along with Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

Reading filled their time. In the evenings, the Holmes gathered around the kitchen table while Clara read aloud. During the winter months, they planned to keep up with the latest in literature. The thought of listening to compelling characters involved in exciting adventures moved Clem forward.

Snow began to fall. Light flakes drifted around him. Sticking out his tongue, Clem caught one. He never lost his childhood enthusiasm for snow. He quickened his steps and whistled 'Yankee Doodle.'

The townsfolk called Clem a tenderfoot. His soft life in Cincinnati left him unprepared for the hardships of frontier life. Stubbornly, he took one day at a time. His brother, Saul, claimed he would never make it in Dakota Territory.

"You're a mama's boy, Clement," his older sibling claimed.

Fifteen years Clem's senior, Saul Holmes ran the Cincinnati Sun—a newspaper their father founded. Following their parent's fatal heart attack, he took over the proprietorship. Along with his wife, Martha, and three children, they lived above the news office.

Isadora, his next oldest sibling, married the mayor's son and lived in a posh house outside the city. She considered herself the most successful of the Holmes' offspring. Clem's back straightened as he considered his sister.

"Always in everyone's business," he muttered as he trudged homeward.

Isadora—along with mama—objected to Clem's marriage to Clara. In fact, she did everything possible to stop it, including spreading nasty gossip. Born on the wrong side of the tracks, Clara Partridge came from one of the poorest families in the county. She and her three sister wore hand-me-down clothes donated by church ladies. However, Clem fell in love with Clara and secretly wed her in a courthouse ceremony. By the time Izzy discovered them, it was too late.

On the other hand, Lottie bubbled over with joy at the romantic attachment. Charlotte was two years older than Clem and his closest sibling. Often she wandered about town skylarking at passersby. Then, she incorporated the gossip she overheard into compelling stories. Papa printed several in his newspaper, but Saul refused to entertain her submissions.

The family considered Clem—the youngest—a ne'er-do-well. Sickly from birth, his mama kept him tied to her apron strings. When he turned sixteen, he left school and tried working as a newspaper reporter. Failing miserably, he began taking on odd jobs around town. Cincinnati became a dead-end, so he decided to try farming. Saul laughed at him, and Isadora tut-tutted, but he claimed his homestead despite their negative response. Clem clenched his fist and plodded homeward. He had to find success in the new territory.