OCTOBER 29th, 1885

I slept in the rocking chair, though I did not actually do much sleeping. Woody was sleeping so peacefully in my bed, that I dared not disturb him.

I sat up most of the night wondering how things would be the next morning, until I knew what I had to do. I was certain of it.

It had started to snow when I went outside for more firewood at first light. Winter has come early. I stoked the fire and put some coffee on, and started some of the ham for breakfast.

I was standing at the stove when I felt Woody wrap his arms around me and bury his face in my neck. I stepped away from him quickly and turned around. He stood in front of me wearing nothing but his pants. He'd pulled his suspenders up over his bare chest, and I had to work to keep my eyes on his.

He was smiling at first, but his smile fell when he saw me there with my lips pinched together in a thin line. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute," I said to him quickly and turned back to the stove.

He didn't sit, but I could hear him stirring around behind me. "Is that all you've got to say, Jo?"

I turned and dropped some ham on a plate and set it on the table. "What would you have me say?" And I went about my business.

"I want you to tell me you've never been so happy in your life! Because that's the way I feel! I've never felt so happy as I was holding you in my arms last night."

I turned and wiped my hands matter-of-factly on my apron. "I've got a farm to run, Woody. Things don't stop just because..." I jerked my head over to where the sheets on the bed were still mussed. O, I could feel my cheeks burning!

"But everything has changed!" he said with a happy laugh. "Don't you see that?"

"Nothing's changed." I shook my head firmly. "We go on. That's all we can ever do. People die and crops fail, but we go on."

He walked over to me and took each of my shoulders in his hand. "Tell me that you don't feel something for me. I know you do. Don't you see? I want to marry you, Jo!"

"Marry you? Ha!" I pushed him back hard, and he nearly fell over. "I'm not going to marry you! I'm not going to marry anyone! Do you know what happens when a woman marries? Everything she has becomes her husband's. This land is mine, hear me? Mine! I've worked too hard to save this farm only to have you sell it out from under me, Woody!'

"I wouldn't do that, Jo! I love you. I want to work this land with you. Don't you understand that? I love you! Hell, if you feel that way, we don't have to get married. We can live up here in mortal sin for all I care. If it's one thing you've taught me it's to not give a damn what those gossips in town think!"

I looked down and tried not to cry. No! I wouldn't cry! It had to be this way. When I finally looked back up at him, his eyes were dark.

"So, what happens to us?" he asked in a broken voice.

"We go back to the way things were. That's the way it has to be. I own this place, and you're my hired hand."

We stood for a silent moment, and then finally he went over to the bed and sank down on the edge. After a bit, he pulled on his boots and slipped his shirt over his head.

He left without a word, and I watched through the window as he walked down to the bunkhouse in the new-fallen snow. I thought he had gone to start his chores or to wash his face, but after a bit he came out of the bunkhouse with his rucksack over his shoulder.

He meant to leave.

I wrapped myself in a blanket and headed out as quick as I could to the barn to where he was saddling his horse.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, although I knew in a terrible sinking.

"I'm leaving, Miss Jo," he said, going back to the old formality. It sent a pang through me.

"Leaving? But you can't!" I started to say something else, but no words followed. Of course he was leaving. How could I have expected him to do any different?

"I can't stay here. You know that." He led the horse out of the barn, and I followed him in a panic.

"Don't go, Woody! I need you!" He mounted his horse, and I pulled at the tail of his coat.

"As what, Miss Jo?" he asked me angrily. "As what? Your hired hand? Well, if I'm not good enough to be your husband, I'm not good enough to be your hired hand."

"Where are you going? What are you going to do?" I called after him.

"I'll stay in Sweet Grass for the night and then into Bozeman. After that, I don't know. But you'll never see me again, Miss Jo. I'm through with you."

He turned the horse around and then headed down the road and away from the farm. I called out to him again, but he kept going with his head down and his collar up against the drifting snow.

"Go!" I finally yelled, but I doubt he heard me. "You always go!"

I didn't care about the stinging of the icy little pellets against my face, and I stood for a long while, calling after him until my tears froze against my cheeks.

I thought all day he might come back. I kept coffee and food on the stove all day. I had convinced myself that he would come creeping back at supper time, he would see I was right, and all would be forgotten.

But as I sit here now, I know that I do not want all to be forgotten! I fear I have made some terrible mistake. Woody is gone, and I know now that Lily was right. I have wasted love!

I cannot write in this book any more. It brings me no joy. I will put it away in the trunk and forget about it. I will never read it again. It will bring me too much pain.

I only hope there is some way I can right this terrible wrong. I only hope I am not too late.