September 1885
*Isabella*
Wyoming’s harsh land has slowly shaped itself into a home. It has been several months since we first staked our claim, and the settlement has transformed. The cabins, once just rough-cut logs stacked in hopeful piles, now stand strong, their stone chimneys curling with the smoke of warm fires. The scent of cedar and fresh-cut wood hangs thick in the air as the final few homes are being built.
Autumn’s chill is creeping into the evenings, hinting at the winter to come. The fields we cleared in the summer now hold the first true crops—corn, beans, squash—thrivin’ under the wide Wyoming sky. What once was dry, cracked land now bursts with golden hues, swayin’ tall in the breeze. The hunters have done their part too, bringin’ in plenty of meat, dryin’ strips of ven
