What a storm! I remember the angry wind screaming across the prairie and the sound of the oil-line freezing. There was no going out in that blizzard. By the end we had dismantled a stall in the barn for firewood.
We took an old sleigh around to check on the neighbors. I was proud to help out as we made our rounds, at least until Widow Fergusson’s.
Dad said it hadn’t been long, the fire had gone out the night before, all of the furniture burned.
We found her. Though burnable, Mr. Fergusson’s things were around her on loving display.
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