Walnut Grove, Minnesota
November, 1882

The skies were overcast and the wind holding its chill as five residents stood on the steps of Nellie's Restaurant on the second Saturday of the month. The single elderly gentleman would have much rather waited indoors for the stagecoach, but it was overdue and he did not want to miss his connection with the Eastbound train. The young married couple huddled against each other, oblivious to everything else. Meanwhile the tall, lanky, fifty year old gentleman in the heavy woolen coat stood slouched against the wall, standing apart from everyone else while his fourteen year old daughter sat on the bench, eyes pointed at the ground.

She knew why the others avoided her. She knew why people stopped, paused, and whispered to each other, clucking their tongues in either disgust or pity.

Most of all, Sylvia Webb knew that what she wanted most in the world at that point was to die.

Just over four months ago, she had been ambushed in the woods outside her house and raped. The brutal act had left her pregnant out of wedlock and drove her strict father Hector mad with rage. Her secret beau, Albert Ingalls, had nearly been killed at his hand.

She knew Albert was standing on the Plum Creek Bridge some hundred feet away, leaning on the rail with his hands shoved into his coat pockets. But she didn't want to speak to him. She didn't even want to look at him.

Albert had made a promise to her. They would run away together and be married...but then he broke his promise. He told her father where she was, and Hector took her home again. For a week, she had exhausted herself by crying her eyes out and eating little. And now, she and her father were leaving town, headed for far-away California.

Initially it was a move to avoid the truth. Hector told his daughter it was for her own good, that he was doing it so no one would look down on her. After having some sense literally knocked into him by Charles Ingalls, Hector was ready to change his mind, but there was no going back. Irv Hartwig, the buyer of the farm, would not sell it back. Gossip about Sylvia had spread far and wide thanks to the gaping maw of Harriet Olsen. Now neither she nor her father could go anywhere without the stares and whispers of others. It was best that they leave.

Sylvia wanted to leave. She hated the looks everyone gave her, she hated Mrs. Olsen for her mouth, and she hated Albert for breaking his promise. Her heart felt hollow, as if everything had been drained out of it. She was glad that it would be months before anyone else would notice the slight bulge of her abdomen, visible only to her when she changed or bathed. The dark thought if wishing a miscarriage haunted her every so often, as she wanted nothing to do with the child that grew within her. Sylvia had already made up her mind to give it up for adoption. She would not be a mother at 14...not alone. It was the one form of defiance she had left, and the girl clung to it for all she was worth.

The arrival of the stagecoach was announced by the galloping of horses and the swirl of dust that followed. The waiting passengers eagerly came to see it. All except Sylvia came forward as it ground to a halt and unloaded passengers and mail. She sat like a stone even after the other passengers began boarding. She didn't move one muscle until after her father came over and gently tugged her elbow. "Come along, now, Sylvie."

Sylvia nodded and rose without a word to follow her father. She let him help her walk up the steps and settled into the hard, uncomfortable seat. She didn't notice who came to stand outside the stagecoach until he spoke.

"Sylvia?" It was Albert, face strained with emotion. "I know you probably hate me...but I love you." He bit his lip when there was no response. "I'm gonna miss you. Maybe...maybe someday I could visit...if it's all right with your pa." Hopefully he looked at Hector.

"Maybe...after we're settled...but it'd be up to Sylvia," said the man, looking from Albert to his daughter. "California's awful far."

"Could I, Sylvia? Please?" His tone and face pleaded for her to listen.

Sylvia's lip wobbled and she closed her eyes. Hearing Albert's quiet voice always made her crumble. But still, she did not look at him. She knew the other stagecoach passengers were dutifully looking everywhere but the scandalous young couple and she didn't care. Anything was better than being stared at and whispered about.

"Won't you look at me?"

Sylvia turned her face away as the tears began coming. Half of her heart wanted to look at him one last time and say goodbye...but the bigger part never wanted to see him again. She gave a single shake of her head.

Albert's face fell and he let his arms drop from the stagecoach windowsill. "I'm sorry, Sylvia. I really do love you...I always will. Goodbye," he called in a heartbroken voice. Slowly the young man backed away. He kept his eyes on the stage until there was nothing left but a cloud of retreating dust. He heard, rather than saw, his adoptive father Charles Ingalls coming up from behind.

"You all right, son?" he asked quietly.

"No, Pa. I'm not all right," admitted Albert, wiping his eyes. "She just doesn't understand. I did it for her...now she hates me for it."

"Well, if she does, there's nothing you can do about it. You just gotta go on livin', that's all." Charles reached up and gave Albert's shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, you want to help me over at the mill for a minute?"

Albert shook his head. "No. I just wanna go home." With that, face twisting with emotion, he turned to walk off down the street. A boisterous voice called out from the steps of the restaurant, making him stop in his tracks.

"Well! Good riddance, I say!" sneered Mrs. Harriet Oleson, broom in hand. "Nothing but trouble."

Albert's blood boiled within him and he clenched his fists. That woman...he turned to look at her with a barely-contained scowl. "I hope you're happy with yourself."

Mrs. Oleson scoffed and took a step back. "Well, what are you griping about? None of this would have happened if you'd have kept away from that girl." She resumed her sweeping. "Don't blame me for it. Besides, there's plenty of other fish in the sea...more respectable ones, anyway."

Albert seethed. For a moment he considered swinging...but the teaching of his father to never hit a woman held fast. "The only good thing about her leaving is that she'll never have to deal with you again." And so, before Harriet even had a chance to be offended, Albert took off running down the road, making for home.

So they thought he was disrespectful, did they? The best way to get back at someone was to defy their expectations. He'd defy them, all right. He'd defy them by throwing every bit of energy he had into his studies to become a doctor.