A portion of a letter from Lona's friend Laura in "The Journey."

Lona placed a pillow behind her back as the wagon creaked along. She had been waiting for some word from Laura since they went separate ways from the wagon train. She eagerly opened the letter and read, and read.
Our home is a soddy, so during the warm months, Jeff and I sat outside a lot at night under a full moon. We talked and planned, but Jeff didn’t know my thoughts were never far from Rosetta and that tiny little grave in a North Carolina mountain side. It was slowly eating away at my soul, and I knew I couldn’t go on this way, grieving and at the same time, trying to make my peace with this harsh land. I gradually overcame the grief, and when I found out I was pregnant, even though we lived in a soddy, I was finally at rest as much as is possible out here.
The prairie winds howl most of the time. The grass is tall and rich, and what few cows we have are mud fat. You have to like yourself pretty well to live here. It’s rare to see another person. Some trappers occasionally travel through, and usually say they were attracted by smoke coming from the cook stove pipe that sticks above ground. I’m only too glad to feed them, just to be able to talk with another human being.