“No!” Holly put up a palm. “Matilda can’t be dead. What happened to her son and to her new daughter, Lily?”

“I don’t know, but let’s keep reading,” Lily said.

Mama gave me this journal when I left Georgia. She said it was possible that she’d never see me again and that I should write in it sometimes, like she and her mother had done in the past, so it could be passed down through the ages, and our future daughters would know us better. I’ve read about the grandmother I never met, and Mama’s struggles. So now it’s my turn to write about my life. My daughter, Rachel, is two years old. I’m twenty-three, as is my husband, Danny O’Riley. We left our home and came west when we heard about the government giving away land here in Indian Territory. We were able to stake out our hundred and sixty acres last month. We’re living in a tent right now, but by winter, we will have enough logs cut to build us a fine cabin. At that time we will have shown improvement on the land, and it will be ours. The work is hard and we’ve struggled sometimes to have food on the table, but our love will carry us through these next years. When we’re old and gray, we’ll tell our grandchildren the stories of how we survived our first winter in Oklahoma. Although it’s late for a garden, I’ve put one in. We have a stream not far from our tent. The water there is good for the garden, but not fit to drink, and it’s backbreaking work to carry full buckets to my garden, but I’m determined that we’ll have harvest food for the winter from it. There are days when I’m lonely for female companionship, and I miss my mama so much, but no one said life is easy, and at the end of the day, Danny and I have each other.

“Wow!” Holly said. “I can’t imagine life with no water in the house.”

“Like she said, it was hard. Imagine living where you only got to see other girls maybe once every few weeks when you could go to church,” Lily said.

“That would be worse than having to live by a man’s rules.” Holly yawned. “I don’t even want to imagine having to live like that.”

“It’s past your bedtime.” Lily picked up the journal and headed to her room.

“’Night, Mama,” Holly whispered.

“Good night to you, darlin’ girl.” Lily felt like dancing across the hall to her bedroom. That was the first time Holly had told her good night without prompting in months.