Pa should be back by now. Ma is pacing around, in front of the fire, and biting her nails. She only does that when she’s really nervous. She has been nervous a lot since we’ve been in this little house. After several months of a bumpy journey across miles and miles of what Pa called, “The great land,” we finally made it to the spot we now call home.

We haven’t been here long; only about three months now. And during our first month, we all slept in the wagon, while Ma and Pa were building the house.

The prairies of Minnesota aren’t heavily populated. Our nearest neighbor, that we know of, is half a day’s walk. Pa likes the isolation, but Ma, having grown up in a big town, has been a nervous wreck since our journey started. My older sister is nervous a lot like Ma is. I’m glad she’s upstairs sleeping now, or I’d have to watch her pace around, too.

“Pa should be back soon, right Ma?” I ask, trying to stop her from pacing. “I thought he said he’d be home by night fall.”

“I imagine he just hiked out a bit farther than he planned to,” she said, still pacing and staring at the dirt floor in front of her. “He’ll be around soon, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried, Ma,” I say, “but it seems like you are. You have bitten your poor nails to the bleeding point.”

She stops pacing and brings her fingers close to her face to get a good look at the damage she’s done. “Oh my,” she says, her face flushing red. “I guess I am worried about Pa. I just hope he doesn’t run into a gang of those savages.”

A surge of ice runs through me. “What do we do if they show up here?” I say, trying to sound brave, but I know the shake in my voice says the opposite.

“They won’t,” she says firmly. “Pa will be back soon.”

I watch her resume her pacing and put my head down. The glowing fire, warming my face, crackles a soothing melody as I drift off.