A small smile played across Clara Holmes' lips at the memory of their outward journey. They arrived in Farley during the middle of May. While the female family members waited in the new hotel, Clem and Matthew rode out to the claim. The wagons carried their new home westward, loaded with fresh hewn boards and tar paper. It took one day to raise a structure on their land.

"It's tiny!" Jessica disdainfully announced, stepping inside the one-room claim shanty.

"We'll build onto it in time," Clem cheerfully proclaimed. "Next year, I promise you will have a room of your own."

"I had a room of my own in Cincinnati." Jess sulked, her eyes resting on the sleeping platform built into the wall.

"We'll make do with what we have," Clara stoutly admonished.

"It's a new territory, Jess," Clem chimed in. "It's an opportunity to start afresh and to build up the West."

After much ado, the family finally fit in most of their possessions. They snugged in a dining table and the pot-bellied stove. The large bedstead stood against the west wall, two sleeping platforms—one above the other—resided along the south wall, and a small cot provided a resting place for the granny.

"I'll nail up a lean-to in a day or so," the father decided. "Then, we can spread out a little more."

Clem hastily built the new addition, and Matthew claimed it. Tugging the cot through the new door, he set up his bedroom. Granny took the lower bunk while Jess and Maimie snuggled in the upper one. Then, they brought in the rocking chair.

"Close that door!" Maude Holmes abruptly ordered. "You're letting in a draft."

Clara's back straightened at the sound of the gravelly old voice. Clenching her fists tightly by her side, she stood her ground. The old woman ground on her nerves.

"In a minute, Maudie," she responded, scanning the horizon. "I'm watching for Clem."

"Watch from the window," her husband's mother shrieked. "You can see just as well."

Instead of shutting the door, Clara stepped further outside. Her eyes traveled over the fresh, packed snow as she glanced toward town. Soft white clouds hung in a clear blue sky. She sighed with relief. However, when she turned to look westward, she noticed heavy black clouds piling ominously on the skyline.

"Matthew!" the anxious mother screamed.

"Yes, Ma?" The boy popped out of the sod barn.

"Feed and water the stock," Clara ordered, "quickly. Then, get inside."

The boy momentarily stood in the doorway. Then, he noticed the blizzard clouds building up. Hurriedly, he set about his task. He pitched hay for the gently brown cow and their two teams of horses and the donkey. Rushing to the well, he filled the troughs with water. Securing the barn door, he rushed toward the shanty. His mother held the door for him, then entered behind him.

"What took you?" the granny muttered. "I'm freezing."

"Here's my shawl." Clara hastily took off her plaid covering and handed it over.

"It's cold," the old woman started, working her empty gums.

Clara shot her a stern warning glance, and the older woman quickly threw the additional shawl over her shoulders.

"What about Pa?" Matthew asked.

"He'll be along shortly, Matt," his mother reassured, although she doubted her words.

"I'll go look for him," the boy bravely offered.

"You'll do no such thing," Clara barked.

"Is Pa lost, Mama?" Jess questioned, worry creasing her brow. She sat at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes. Maimie played with the parings.

"Of course not." Nervously, the young wife wrung her hands together. She tried to sound optimistic but worried about her husband's whereabouts. He should have stayed in town. However, he might have tried to make it home.

Abruptly, the sky changed from bright blue to menacing black. Inside the shanty, the light dimmed. The kerosene lamp flickered and then held firm. Clara added coal to the pot-bellied stove and drew the older woman's chair closer. Maud silently rocked to and fro, her eyes glued to the red flame inside the stove's grill.

Matthew brought his bedding in from the lean-to. Rolling up his blanket, he shoved it against the crack in the door. Clara rolled another one and pushed hers against the front door. The wind began to roar, shaking the shanty. Jess screamed, then pressed her fists against her mouth.