As Duncan puts it, Fair One took an instant liking to a stallion as invincible as White Bird, his owner. White Bird, if you will recall, remained in what became the District of Alberta, Canada. Duncan remembered a fine Appaloosa belonging to White Bird, one he had secretly coveted all during the Nez Perce’s fighting retreat. A visit to Canada and an offer proved successful. The stallion returned and sired a number of fine horses with Fair One. Thus began our herd.

When we wouldn’t leave the Grande Ronde Valley, and showed signs of being productive citizens, matters started to turn around for us. Maybe our acceptance was hurried along when our nearest neighbor needed help during a delicate foaling, and knew Duncan would not fail him. Later, another neighbor begged us to take in his children for several months after his wife died unexpectedly. He was so grateful.

Duncan has been reading this chapter. “You have written about Phil. You must write about Eugenie, too, Smiley,” he told me last night. He looked away until he collected his emotions. She was dear to him, too.

Eugenie married quite well in Omaha to Edwin Babcock, an enterprising attorney whom she adored. We were still in The Hot Place, and both of us yearned for her letters of love for us, love for her good husband, and her general exuberance that leaped through the pages and landed in our single room house with the leaky roof.

One of the saddest days of my life was when we received a letter from Edwin informing us of her death. I could recite it to you, because the words burned into my brain like a branding iron. “’The doctors didn’t know what it was. We consulted so many. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want you sad, after your own sorrow.’” I read that letter over and over until Duncan took it away. I mean, we expected such terrible news all around us, but Omaha? With doctors? Money for the best of everything? If I could be granted one do-over in life, I think it would be no letter from Edwin Babcock, and only the good news that all was well, and I still had a sister. Do I miss her? Oh, don’t ask.

There you have it. I have written my story. Yes, portions of it are enormously sad, but please don’t think that is how we view it. Our happy moments are deeper and well-earned, because of the other moments. I have such moments; so do you. We continue to live with a heartful of hope.