Sleeping again-this time from staying up late and reading papers and magazines Mrs Burgens brought me. She’s leaving in the morning for Wheatland. Will miss her. 

Wes is still working. It’s pretty cold up there in the evenings. 

Hope for a rain down here but didn’t get it, so I watered our garden this evening, carrying water in a bucket to the rows too far for the short hose to reach. I planted small onion sets that Wes bought. Billy had to plant some too, and did a right good job too. The seeds he had planted were looking very promising but this morning the chickens reached them and what they did to Billy’s onions was pathetic. I wish Billy weren’t so afraid of the chickens, but I suppose that after what the big black rooster did to him a few times it’s no wonder that he’s afraid. Twas about a month ago that Billy wandering about in the yard and deeply absorbed in something on the other side of Prescott’s fence was suddenly attacked from the rear. I heard him cry; saw him lying there, and made a mad dash to the rescue. Seeing a corn stalk along the way, and making a pass at the bird. He was persistent though and kept coming back for more before finally giving up. Poor Billy! He was pale and trembling. My heart still aches when i think of it. His actual casualities consisted merely of scratches on his chin and black and blue spots on his right thigh but I’m afraid the experience left a rather permanent impression. He talks often of the rooster hurting him. I think he dreams about it as he often wakes up during the night obviously in fear of something. Baby cried today more than usual. I hope she isn’t ill. 

-Albina Banks