Author's Notes: Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz does not belong to me, nor will it ever belong to me. It belongs to the creator, L. Frank Baum, whom I respect very much for giving the world this wonderful story, along with the many others set in Oz. Anything from the film belongs to screenplay writers Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson, Edgar Allan Woolf, all of the composers, and MGM films. I write this piece out of respect for the original works.

This does not take place in the Land of Oz, but rather at the farm in Kansas, featuring mainly Dorothy Gale, Hunk, Hickory, Zeke, Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, Professor Chester Frank Marvel, Miss Almira Gultch, and several original characters. Their ages, in many cases, are adjusted to suit the purposes of this story.

Prologue

"How busy do you think the farm will be now that Mr. and Mrs. Gale won't be here to help us anymore?" the young twenty-six year old farmhand asked his older friend. His gentle blue-grey eyes shined with sympathy and sadness.

The other man looked at him with an examining eye. He was over twenty years older than the man next to him, but he held him in the highest regards. He could forgive many mistakes the younger man made and tried to fix them before the farm owners discovered the error. He looked out for the youth, but when it came to the little girl of the family, he cared for her like a second father. "It's better if we don't complain about more work. Imagine what the poor little girl is going through right now."

Hickory nodded, a tear struggling to remain in his eye……

……Tragedy had recently struck the Gale household. The small family was on a visit with Pat Gale's brother, Henry. Unfortunately, Pat's wife, Clara became dreadfully ill and their visit was extended until she would be able to at least get out of her bed. Their little daughter stayed by her mother the whole time, never leaving unless it was absolutely necessary. The farmhands of Henry and Emily Gale knew the child and her parents very well, having worked for them for many years. Pat had gone into town to get his wife medicine one afternoon…but he never returned. They all found out the next day from their County Sheriff that Pat Gale had been killed by a drunken young man. That was only the beginning of the sorrow to come to the Gale farm.

Immediately after her father's death, the little girl was overwhelmed with a low spirit. It was on the third day after Pat died that she was found on the porch, her head in her arms, which rested on her knees. That was how the older farmhand came upon her.

He gently laid his callused hand on her shoulder blade, his thumb tracing small circles on her back. She looked up at him and saw his aging paternal face before her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the tears left visible tracks down her cheeks. "Oh, Zeke!" she cried, after her vision cleared and she was able to recognize him. She got to her feet and leaped into his arms, crying into his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her and gently rocked her side to side.

"Dorothy…It's alright, honey," he tried to soothe the twelve year old girl. She shook her head against his chest, her breaths now hiccups. Zeke ran his hands up and down her back in a second attempt to calm her down. She seemed to calm a little too much, though. Zeke pulled away from her and saw that her eyes were closed and her breathing back to normal.

The man scooped her into his arms and went into the Gale household. He walked through the living room, the kitchen, and toward the bedrooms. The house only contained three bedrooms: one for Henry and Emily Gale, another for Pat and Clara Gale, and the last for young Dorothy. He made his way there and pulled back the covers. Gently, he put her on the bed and tucked her in. Zeke brushed her hair back away from her forehead, and bent low touching his lips to the girl's forehead. Then, he left the room.

On his way outside, he stopped at the second bedroom where the very ill Clara Gale lay. He knocked on the door softly. "Come in," was quietly whispered from the other side. He opened the door and stood on the threshold of the room. He looked upon Clara Gale. Sweat coated her face, and her breath was labored. Her body seemed frailer and weaker than he had ever seen before, even weaker then after her difficult delivery of her daughter. She convulsed on her bed in her sickness where she was shielded under many layers of covers in her fever. She reached her hand toward Zeke. He immediately crossed the room, pulled over a chair to sit in, and took her hand. "Mr. Lahr…" she breathed.

"Mrs. Gale," he responded. He stroked the back of her hand.

"Mr. Lahr, will Dorothy be alright?"

"Well, she has taken the…Mr. Gale…she most likely won't be her normal self until you get well again, Mrs. Gale," he said, stumbling over how to mention the death of her husband.

Her eyes closed for a long while as she breathed slowly, almost seeming to struggle to do so. When she opened her eyes they held a regretful resignation in them. "I fear I will not get well again, Mr. Lahr."

"Don't say that, Mrs. Gale. You have to get well for Dorothy."

"I am trying. But…can you promise me something, Mr. Lahr?" she asked. She hoped he would agree without a second thought. When he nodded for her to continue, she made the last request she had. "Watch over Dorothy. Take care of her when I leave. Please." She closed her eyes again and when she opened them she looked expectantly to Zeke.

Zeke looked at Clara and sighed. 'I've promised her.' He thought of little Dorothy asleep in the next room. What would happen when her mother died…and not even a week after her father? He did not have the answer and neither did he want to know it. With a last look at Clara Gale, he knew that he would soon learn the answer whether or not he was prepared for it. She closed her eyes to continue to sleep in her fever. He looked upon her face for a moment longer before he rose to his feet and walked to the doorway. Before he closed the door, he looked at her again with sadness in his eyes. Finally, with a soft sigh he left the room closing the door behind him.

On his way back to the animal pens, he decided that he would have to tell Hickory. Very soon Clara Gale may die, leaving her daughter living with Henry and Emily Gale as her guardians and with him and Hickory as her only other friends…

It was just the next morning that Henry found Clara cold in her bed, despite the multitude of covers over her. He did not tell Dorothy first, but Zeke and Hickory. It was Emily that finally told the girl of her mother's death. But when she sought comfort, she found it in the company of Hickory and Zeke, the latter of whom told her stories of her father and mother as a young couple in love and how happy they were when she was born. Despite the older man's attempt to help her, she ran to Hickory, who offered a silent comfort of a simple embrace as she cried against his shoulder.