***
March 1870:
Tell me, Johnny, how many hearts did you break?
If you'd come back now, I'd slam the door in your face. And if your stupid hat falls away because of that, then I'm not going to pick it up for you.
Despair clawed at her heart again. She felt as if bound with a very long chain to a ball that was rolling around on the prairie somewhere, far far away. She couldn't see it, but she felt its pull.
Genie wished she could wipe the uncertainty away and get a clear glimpse of the future. But try as she might, she couldn't.
***
Three months earlier: