JULY 30th, 1885

It is just we two.

It seems pointless to have two separate meals (one for me and one for the hands) so I've been asking Woody to join me when I eat. He stays after supper, and we talk about the happenings of the day. Sometimes he will tell long, elaborate, comical stories about Wisconsin or something he's read. He will get so excited he will jump up from the chair and act the story out with different voices for each of the characters, and I will laugh until my sides ache. Other times, he seems to sense when I just want to sit quietly with no talk at all.

Tonight, we sat for a long while. I darned socks, and he read. Finally, he shut the book up, and rose and said he should be going.

I stood, too, and walked with him over to the door. He turned then to face me, said good night and then looked at me with something very like longing. I thought for a moment he might kiss me. It surprised me. I drew in my breath and took a step away from him without thinking about it.

It seemed to embarrass him. He mumbled good night again and hurried into the darkness.

Woody is my dear friend, but that is all. I certainly hope I have not given him the wrong idea about that.

JULY 31st, 1885

No rain. The tops of the corn stalks have withered and dried. The ground is hard and cracked, and everything and everyone is covered with a thin layer of red dust.

That is all the energy I have to write tonight.

AUGUST 5th, 1885

We hired a new man today. He seemed to suddenly appear at my front door from nowhere. There was no horse. He had walked all the way from Sweet Grass, where Nigel had told him I was looking for help.

He is a funny fellow. He is dark-skinned, with great, serious black eyes and black hair. He said later when we talked at supper that he had no idea of his parentage. He might be part Negro or Mexican or Chinese from the men who were brought here to build the railroad or something else altogether. All he knew was that he had lived among the Crow people who have a settlement north of here for as long as he could remember.

I asked his name, and he said something back to me, a long name in a language I didn't recognize. He just shrugged and said, "They call me Bug."

I sent him down to the barn to see Woody, who came up a bit later, having left Bug to some chores. "What do you think?" I asked.

Woody rocked his head from side to side. "He's a good worker, but I don't know. He's Crow, or at least he lived with them. People around here don't trust the Indians. If you hire him, they'll say..."

I cut him off. "What is it you've seen in me that makes you think I care what people say?"

He grinned. "Well, there hasn't exactly been a stampede to the door with men looking for work."

'I'd say we've hired us a new hand, then."

Bug worked long and hard all afternoon without a complaint, and when I called the two of them up to supper, he seemed to come reluctantly, as if he coldn't bear to walk away from an unfinished job,

Woody and I tried to pull a conversation out of him, but we could have sooner pulled teeth from him. He talked a little about the Crow and how he had never known his real parents. Times have been hard on the Crow settlement, so he left to look for work. He had been turned away everywhere else, and we could all guess why. (I've never understood what the color of a man's skin has to do with his ability to do an honest day's work). Bug found himself in Sweet Grass, and Nigel told him he was certain that Jo Cavanaugh would not turn him away. I am glad Nigel holds me in such high regard.

After supper, Woody said he'd show him where to sleep, but Bug just held up his hand and said very solemnly that he would be happiest sleeping in the barn. He seemed to have his mind made up, and headed out with a little bow. Woody stayed for a bit. We drank the last of the coffee and watched the sunset. It glowed purple and red and orange, and we thought for sure it might rain, but it didn't.

I am hopeful that with this new arrival, our fortunes will begin to improve.

Pete was right. I did not make Bug a pie.

AUGUST 6th, 1885

I had a very strange dream last night. I was in a house I didn't quite recognize. I was wearing a grand yellow gown. Very old-fashioned. Woody was in the dream, too. He was wearing knee breeches and a blue boat. He looked the same, but his hair was longer and tied back away from his face. I had the sense that he was leaving and would not be back. The dream was so brief, but I had such a sad feeling when I woke that stayed with me all morning. Very odd.

No rain.

AUGUST 8th, 1885

Still no rain. I have lost count of how long it has been.

Lily Seely came to stay today. Matt has gone all the way to Ft. Laramie on business, and he didn't want to leave her by herself in her condition. If I were unkind, I would say that was the first considerate thought the man has ever had.

They came rattling up the road first thing in the morning, and we were all in the midst of our morning chores. Woody was bringing in a load of wood for the cooking fire, and I, with my apron full of eggs, had just left Bug working in the barn

The sun was already blazing. Lily looked like a wilted flower and stepped gingerly down from the wagon. I was shocked at her appearance. Her skin was sallow, and she had dark hollows in her cheeks. She must have seen me check when she came down, because she flushed red and immediately said, "You needn't worry about me eating you out of house and home, Jo. I haven't been able to even look at food in months!"

I slipped my arm around her and pulled her away from Matt's hearing while he brought her case down from the wagon. "You're not past the sickness?" She quickly shook her head, and I tried not to look alarmed. "Well, we'll try and fatten you up anyway."

She said her goodbyes to Matt, who gave no indication of his date of return, and then insisted she help with the chores.

"I can manage. Why don't you go inside and put your feet up?" I said.

"No, I insist. I'd like to make myself useful." She picked up a bucket by the door and turned as if to head toward the well. I heard the bucket fall to the hard ground with a clatter, and I called over to her.

"Are you all right, Lily?"

She pressed her hand to her forehead. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just a little..." She couldn't finish her sentence, as her eyes had fluttered closed, and she had begun to sink towards the ground.

I reached out for her, futilely, and opened my mouth to call her name. Woody dropped his armload of wood and took a step toward her. Before he could halfway reach her, Bug had appeared out of nowhere and was beside her in a flash. She collapsed gently in his arms.

I hadn't had a chance to speak, and Woody and I both watched dumbly as Bug carried her into the house. We followed them in to where Bug had placed her in a chair by the table. He knelt beside her with her pale hand held in his.

"Water. She needs water," he said without taking his eyes from her, and Woody obediently poured her a cup from the pitcher by the stove.

She opened her eyes then, and I went to her. "Lily? Are you all right? Did you hit your head?"

"She didn't hit her head," Bug said evenly. No, she didn't, I thought to myself. He had caught her before she could reach the ground.

Lily blinked her eyes and looked around. "O, goodness! I must have fainted," she said sheepishly.

I took the glass from Woody and passed it to her. "Here, drink this. Just sit here by the door. There's a cool breeze coming in. You shouldn't be outside in this hot sun in your condition," I chided her mildly.

"I just didn't want to be a burden. I know if things are as bad around here as they are at our place, you can barely afford to feed yourselves, let alone a guest."

It was the truth, but I gave her a wave. "Never mind that. You stay inside, and Bug can..." I looked around to see that Bug had quietly slipped away and was heading back to the barn.

I sent Lily to lie down, which she did without argument. Later, while I was doing wash, Bug crept up to me so quietly, he gave me a start.

"Is Miss Lily all right?" he asked, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Bug! O, yes. She's fine. She was just feeling faint is all."

He gave a little sigh of relief, and I waited for him to say something. He didn't and left me to the washing without another word.

When Lily rose, we sneaked away from the house, slipped off our shoes, and waded into the pond up to our ankles, giggling like schoolgirls all the while.

AUGUST 9th, 1885

Lily has wisely decided to stay off of her feet for the time being, or at least until there is a break in this ungodly hot weather. Bug fetches for her and sits with her during the day. She must possess some gift that the rest of us don't, because every time I look over at them, their heads are pressed together in conversation.

Since Bug disappears as soon as the dishes are cleared, Lily has been joining me and Woody by the fire after supper. Tonight, when it started to grow late, Woody stood and rose the way he does every night, and I followed him to the door the way I do to see him out.

"Good night, Miss Lily." He turned toward me. We stood face to face again, and I admit I felt a little nervous flutter as he looked at me in that same awkward way. "Well, good night, Jo."

"Good night, Woody," I said, and I realized I could barely hear myself speak. He hurried off, and when I looked back at Lily, she was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"Why, Jo Cavanaugh! I'd say Woody is sweet on you!"

I sat down and busied myself with my sewing. "We are only friends, Lily."

"Maybe that's what you think, but he thinks something else altogether." She smiled and shook her finger at me.

"He doesn't," I insisted.

She could barely contain herself and burst out into a hearty laugh. "I think you're sweet on him, too!"

"Don't be ridiculous. He is my friend and my employee, and that is all."

"O, you are! You are sweet on him! And why not?" She laughed some more and slapped at her thigh.

I didn't say another word but kept on at my sewing while Lily sat beside me, bursting occasionally into spontaneous fits of laughter.

Her delicate condition has made her silly.

AUGUST 10th, 1885

Another hot, dry day, and none of us seemed to have the energy to get out of bed. A dark mood has infected us all, brought on by the desperate situation. No rain. How long can it last? We are conserving our precious supplies of water. There is no end in sight to this.

I didn't have the physical or mental strength to cook over a hot fire, so we had cold beef and bread for supper.

There is nothing left to write.

xxx

Miraculous! My hands are shaking with joy as I write this. Everyone had readied for bed, despite the thin sliver of sunlight that still hovered above the horizon. All was still and quiet, and then it came. A soft distant rumbling, so soft that Lily and I sat up in our bed and strained for it. My heart began to pound, but I could not let myself think it.

"Did you hear that?" Lily whispered to me. I could only nod. And there it was again! A long, low rumble. We both jumped from our bed, and I opened the door. A grey cloud hung over us, and there was the soft beating of rain as it soaked into the parched earth.

Rain! It was raining! A slow trickle at first, then the skies opened up on us. Woody had come out of the bunkhouse, hurriedly pulling his pants on. Then there was Bug standing a the barn door, and we all stepped out into the storm as it pelted us with hard little raindrops.

There were tears and shouting and laughter, and we ran around feeling the joyous sting of the drops against our bare skin. Lily kicked up a spray from a puddle that had formed in a rut and covered us all with mud, but we didn't care! We laughed some more and we all hugged each other. We joined hands and shouted until we were soaked through to the skin.

I shrieked when Woody came to me and gathered me into his arms and spun me around with my feet swinging out behind me. He was smiling up at me, and suddenly I bent my head down and kissed him, just a quick little kiss of joy on his lips.

As Lily finally turned in, she looked over at me with a grin and a raised her eyebrow. I knew what she was hinting at, but I don't care. I would have kissed Henry Slokum full on the mouth if he'd been there, too.

Still and all. It was a very nice kiss.