← Against The Odds
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A Listener against the Odds uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, may be invented, but everything is based on research. This series contains depictions of violence and death involving children and may not be suitable for everyone. Maria Albrecht opens the kitchen door of her farmhouse and steps out onto her porch. She peers up at the vast sky above the Midwestern prairie, taking in a deep breath. It's January 12, 1888, near the town of Freeman in the Dakota Territory. At this time of year she'd expect icy winds to be blowing across the plains, but the air is quite warm. It must be 40 degrees warmer than yesterday. But there's something unsettling about it. The sky disturbs her most of all. Along the western horizon, clouds are gathering. They roll and twist in the sky, almost as if they're alive. A shiver shoots down her spine. She hollers towards the barn where her husband is working. Johan, come inside now. She heads inside. Back in her kitchen, she finds her sons, 13 year old Johan Jr. And 9 year old Peter, finishing their breakfast of sausages and cornbread. Maria looks at each of them. You're not going to school today. I don't like this weather, Johan Jr. Protests. But Mom, Mr. Cotton promised us a special lesson. We're going to do an experiment with magnets. You are not going to school today. But we have to. Maria flushes red with anger. Her children complain every day about going to school, and on the one day she wants to keep them home, they argue. Thankfully, she hears the door open and turns to see her husband wiping his oily hands on a rag. He looks grumpy at being interrupted. What's this fuss about? I want the whole family to stay inside today. I don't trust that sky. You crazy? It's the warmest day of the winter. I've got work to do. Maria narrows her eyes at him. Please. Something sinister is afoot, I can feel it. But her husband shakes his head. No. I don't want to hear about your superstitions. Boys, head to school. Yes. Johan Jr. Whoops in delight and grabs his schoolbooks, racing out the door. Maria is stunned and furious at her husband for undermining her, but he just shrugs and returns outside. She stands there for a moment, seething. Then she sees her son's hat and gloves on the table. He forgot them. She grabs them, but it's too late. He's already 100 yards down the road. A moment later, she feels Peter hug her waist. I'll stay home if you want, Mama. This touches Maria. She pulls Peter tighter and strokes his hair. But she's still uneasy. She'd never admit it, but Johan Jr. Has a special place in her heart. She gave birth to him on the ship to America. He was her first child to survive, the one who broke the curse of her first three babies deaths. And she's sure he's running off into something terrible. From wondery I'm mike corey, and this is against the odds. The morning of January 12, 1888. Dawn bright and war, a welcome reprieve from the deep chill of winter in the American Midwest. Children ran off to school without hats and gloves, trappers headed out to catch game, and farmers eagerly attended to neglected chores. But trouble was brewing. A pocket of frigid air was hovering north of the Midwest in Canada. The nation's Weather Forecasting Bureau was aware of the mass of cold air, but declined to warn people that it might shift south. And when it did, communities in the Dakota Territory and Nebraska were caught unaware in the storm. This is episode two. Into the swirling white, Charlie Stabler leans down and grabs the stick from his dog's mouth. Then he gives it a toss. Yeah, go get it. Go get it. The stick lands with a plop in the snow 30 yards away. STABLER chuckles as his dog, who's part husky, bounds ahead. He's convinced that Bear Claws, as he calls him, is the best dog in the world. At the same time, he has perhaps the worst trapping partner. He turns around and casts an impatient glance at his friend Rough Clouds, who is struggling to keep up in the thick snow. Rough Clouds is a mountain of a man standing well over six feet and close to 300 pounds. He Towers over Stabler. That size has its advantages. Rough Clouds can carry twice as much gear as other people. But he's horribly slow, and today Stabler is in a hurry. Stabler hollers to him, get a move on. We got five more traps to check. Stabler and Rough Clouds are Plains Indians, members of the Omaha tribe. They trap beavers for a Living. It's 8am on January 12, 1888, and they're tromping through the snow along Beaver Creek in eastern Nebraska. They left their campsite early this morning to check the traps they set a few days ago. They have a 10 mile loop to cover today so they can get back to the campsite by dark. Stabler looks up at the sky. To the west, clouds are massing. He's seen this before and knows the weather will likely turn cold today, and those faraway clouds could be fixing to dump snow on them in A few hours. So if he and Rough Clouds want to check all their traps, they need to hurry. Otherwise any beavers they've caught could be lost and buried under the snow. When Rough Clouds at last catches up, he's wheezing. He hunches over, hands on his knees. I need a rest. He drops onto the ground. Stabler shakes his head. No, no, no, no. We're not stopping. Let's go. Let's go. Stabler grabs his coat and tries dragging Rough Clouds to his feet. But his friend is a dead weight. Stabler pleads with him. Hey, I'm serious. Come on. But nothing works. Rough Clouds is red from exertion. His breath coming in gasps. There's nothing Stabler can do. He whistles for his dog, Bear Claws, then turns to study the sky again. The clouds are getting closer. Eight year old Walter Allen sits at his desk, reading from a textbook. Walter loves to read, but today his mind is wandering. The lesson is too easy for him. He wishes they could read something fun like Great Expectations. He read three chapters last night with his older brother, Will. He can't wait to find out what happens next. It's 10:30am on January 12th in Walter's four room schoolhouse near the town of Groton in the Dakota territory. Recess starts at 11 and he's looking forward to that. It's such a warm, glorious day. A light snow fell last night and today the whole world is sparkling in the sun. Look. Suddenly a scream rips through the air. Walter jumps in his seat. His head turns toward the sound. It's Mildred, a classmate whose desk is right near the window. She's pointing through the glass. Walter follows her finger. Outside, a massive white cloud is churning right toward their schoolhouse. It's moving as fast as a train and it's hugging the ground. It must be 25ft tall and it stretches across the entire horizon. A few more children cry out in alarm. Others, like Walter, sit transfixed. Even the teacher is speechless. Until finally, she seems to remember that she's in charge. Children, stay calm. We'll be fine. But she doesn't sound calm herself. Walter's pulse quickens. There's something otherworldly about the white mass, like something out of a nightmare. And as it draws closer, Walter sees that it's not actually a cloud at all, but a squall of swirling snow. The wind is picking the snow off the ground and collecting it the way a summer tornado lifts everything in its path. The teacher keeps telling them to stay calm, but no one is listening to her. A minute later, the wind slams into the schoolhouse. The building shakes and creaks like it's about to be torn loose from its foundation. Walter grips his desk with both hands. White knuckled. The teacher disappears into the hallway. A minute later, she hurries back into the classroom. She raises her voice to be heard over the noise. Children, I've discussed it with the other teachers. We're going to make a run for town. Walter raises his hand. But, ma', am, why don't we stay here? This blizzard could last for days. I've seen it happen. And we have no food here, so everyone grab your coats and boots and hurry. A stampede of children rushes toward the vestibule where they keep their winter clothes. Desks and chairs go tumbling. Walter is toward the back. As he's waiting to grab his coat, he looks back out the window and shudders to see. The world outside is nothing but a menacing white. Lieutenant Thomas Woodruff yawns and stretches at his desk at the Army's weather Bureau in St. Paul, Minnesota. He didn't sleep well. Even at 10:40 in the morning, he's still a bit sluggish. He goes through the telegrams with the overnight weather reports, but as he plots data on his map, he feels a knot of worry grow in his stomach. Army forts out in Montana reported snowstorms overnight, along with a sharp drop in temperature. Some places are 20 below zero. Turns out that the cold wave he dismissed last night as unlikely has arrived after all. It gets worse. Based on the barometer readings he's recording from each telegram, it's clear there's a pressure gradient building up. The steeper the gradient, the higher the winds will be, and this gradient looks steeper than anything Woodruff has ever seen. All these indicators the snow, the sudden cold, the high winds point to one conclusion. A massive blizzard will sweep across the Midwest today. Woodruff feels a flutter of panic. Not only did he fail to issue a warning about the severe cold that's coming, he barely mentioned the possibility of snow, much less a blizzard. He swallows hard. In bitter cold like this, exposed flesh can freeze in less than an hour. People could die. He has to issue a warning. It's too late for Montana, but if he can get a message to the telegraph office right away, he can still alert people in the Dakota Territory, Nebraska, Minnesota, and Iowa. He lunges for his ink pot and tips it, spilling ink all over his desk. He curses but doesn't pause to clean it up. He dips his pen in the spilled pool and scribbles as fast as he can. Heed his hopes that he's not too late. 13 year old Johan Albrecht Jr. Creases some paper, then jams it into the crack in the wooden wall as best that he can. It's 11:15am A blizzard struck a few minutes ago, blasting his tiny school like a shockwave. Snow has been blowing in through the gaps in the unplastered walls. With the paper there, Johan can still hear the wind whistling, but at least he's blocked the snow. This schoolhouse near Freeman in the Dakota Territory consists of one room with a stove in the middle. There are just two windows, so it's dim inside at the best of times. And with the blizzard raging, it's like someone dropped a shroud over the building, plunging the room into near darkness. Six other students made it to class today. The three Kaufman brothers and three Graeber brothers. Johan wishes his own brother Peter was here, but Peter is safe at home with their mother. Johan feels a stab of regret as he recalls running off this morning. His mother's premonition had seemed so ridiculous, but he wishes he'd listened to her now. At the head of the class stands their teacher, Mr. Cotten. The children mostly like him, but the sight of him now makes Johan nervous. He's chewing his lip anxiously and staring out the window. After a long moment, he turns to the class. Students, I think we should make a run for the Graeber house. The Graeber brothers live just a half mile away, but none of the students, even the Grabers, seem keen on this idea. Johan raises his hand. Mr. Cotton, what if we stayed here instead? I've been taught that you're supposed to stay inside during a blizzard. Two of the older boys back Johan up. That's what their fathers taught them as well. But Mr. Cotton shakes his head. How much coal is in the bin? Johan gets out of his chair and opens the lid of the coal bin. The sight makes him wince. There's roughly one scoop, sir. I. I feared as much. Our delivery isn't due until tomorrow. That means we'll have no heat. And who knows how long we'll be stuck here. No, we. We have to go. But Mr. Cotton, our fathers were very clear. Never leave shelter in a blizzard. Mr. Cotton glares at them. Didn't your fathers also teach you to respect your elders? Johan admits that this is true. The other boys drop their eyes as well. Mr. Cotton nods. That's right. Now we're going to the Graeber house. It's not far and we all know the way. In 20 minutes we'll be sipping Cider next to a fire. Now grab your coats and once we're outside, stay together. Do not get separated under any circumstances. All seven boys shove back their chairs. Johan stands and looks around the room. He never particularly likes school. He goes mostly because it beats doing chores on the farm. But however ambivalent he normally feels, he sure as heck wishes they were staying here right now. Eight year old Walter Allen huddles behind an older boy on the sledge outside his schoolhouse, rubbing his bare hands together and trying to stay warm. It's just past 11am and he's waiting to be taken back to his in Groton to escape this terrible blizzard. Suddenly he remembers something. His perfume bottle. He forgot it inside. If he leaves it overnight in the school, the water inside will freeze and crack the glass. Walter hesitates. His teacher, who's checking on his classmates on the other sledge, said to stay put no matter what. But it's only 20ft to the school. He can grab the perfume bottle and be back in no time. He jumps over the side, then runs through the blinding snow and up the steps. He flings open the door and races into his empty classroom. He darts around the overturned chairs until he's at his wooden desk in the corner. He throws open the top and rummages around inside among his chalk and books. Where? Where is it? I thought I left it right here. Panic pulses through him. He's got to hurry to get back on the sledge before it leaves. At last he finds it. He holds it up for a second, admiring the beautiful cut facets of the glass. He never would have forgiven himself if it had broken. Then he shoves the bottle in his pocket and races back through the classroom. He yanks open the schoolhouse door and hops down the steps. The icy wind blasts him in the face. He wishes again he'd brought his hat and gloves today. But when he reaches the spot where he thought the sledges were, he stops. There's nothing there. He looks around in confusion. Is he in the wrong place? He looks down and sees the tracks of the sledge leading away. They left without him. His heart pounds in fear. Should he go back inside the school? But who knows how long he could be stuck there. He looks down at the sledge tracks again. Maybe he can follow them into town. But they're already starting to vanish in the blowing snow. He tries to think. His eyes water from the cold and he feels his fist fingers going numb. Then he takes off running after the tracks. It's only a half mile to town. Surely he can make it. Nineteen year old Etta Shattuck steps outside the farmhouse where she boards and adjusts the shawl around her head. What a wonderfully warm day. Then she sets out toward town, humming a hymn as she cuts across an empty field. It's just after noon on January 12, and although the newspapers said that the temperature might drop around mid morning up in the Dakota territory that's 100 miles north, the weather down here in Holt County, Nebraska, is practically balmy As a result. All Etta needs for warmth to today is her spring coat and a shawl. She can grab her final wages and be home in an hour. Etta finishes one hymn and starts another. Since moving to Holt, she's become a devout Methodist, and she's feeling particularly happy today. God created such a beautiful morning, she's blessed to witness it. Plus, this is the last time she'll ever have to cross this empty stretch of land. With nothing to look at but a few farmhouses and scattered haystacks, Etta has finally quit her job and good riddance. Her father Benjamin, a Civil War veteran with a bad leg, moved the family to Holt county three years ago because he got a good deal on some land. But the move proved every bit as disastrous as Etta had feared. Even an expert farmer would struggle to grow crops here, and her father was definitely not an expert. As a result, Etta took a job teaching school to help support her family of seven. She was just 17 when she started, barely older than some of her students. The children seemed to like her overall, but Etta's heart had never been in it, and her pay, $25 per month, didn't go far feeding her family of seven. Then a few months ago, after the third straight summer of failed crops, her father pulled up stakes and moved the family back east to Seward. Etta stayed on to earn enough money to help with the transition, but she felt alone out here, stranded. She misses her younger siblings terribly. So last week she resigned. Today she simply needs to get a paper signed by the district supervisor. Then she'll head over to the county treasurer and collect her last $25 in wages. And tomorrow she'll hitch a ride to the train station and and leave Holt county forever. The very thought of this lifts her mood as she starts another hymn. But then a strange rumbling noise startles her. She looks up to see a bank of clouds rolling in from the north. Except these clouds are strangely close to the ground and moving at a speed that takes her breath away. Her first thought is to run as fast as she can. But as she looks around, she realizes there's no shelter she can reach in time. She's going to have to face whatever weather is coming head on. Eighteen year old Will Allen drums his fingers on the pane of glass as he stares out the window of his family's home on Main street in Groton, Dakota territory. He's scanning for the sledge with his little brother Walter on it. His mother calls out behind him. Any sign yet? No, but I'll let you know. Will's nose is so close to the window that the glass fogs up. He wipes it clean with his sleeve. Not that he can see much anyway. The buildings here in town are windbreaks in this storm, but the visibility is still poor. Overall, it's hard to see more than 30 yards out on the prairie where Walter's schoolhouse sits alone. He suspects it's near whiteout conditions. Will first heard a half hour ago that some men in town had hitched up their horses to rescue the school children. He's been waiting at the window ever since. The Allen house lies near the edge of town, farthest from the school. So Will knows Walter will be among the last children to be dropped off. But even so, Will can't understand what's taking so long. At last he makes out the sledge through the blinding snow. He calls out to his parents in the kitchen. They're here. Will doesn't even pause to grab a coat. He flings open the door and dashes out to meet his little brother. It's only 15 yards to the sledge, but Will is already shivering when he reaches it. The snow stings his cheeks. He looks over the children, crouched and huddled, their faces hidden. The wind is loud enough that he has to shout. Walter, where are you? Raise your hand. None of the children raise their hands. Will calls out to the man driving the sledge. Hey, was Walter with you? I thought so. So where is he? I don't know. Maybe he got confused and hopped off early. But Will doesn't think so. Walter's too smart for that. A feeling of utter dread floods through him. Did Walter fall off? Or maybe the man was wrong and he never left the school. Regardless, Walter is somewhere unsafe and could be lost in the blizzard. Will turns and races inside to grab his father. They've got to find his little brother. Nineteen year old Etta Shattuck staggers forward, blinded and bewildered in the sudden blizzard that swept over Holt County, Nebraska. She has no idea how long she's been stumbling around. An hour maybe. The snow feels like shards of ice raking her skin. The cold also makes it hard to breathe. She feels like she's suffocating. But she keeps trudging forward in her thin coat, driven by one thought. She's got to find the fence ahead of her. The only saving grace, truly a blessing from God, is that she was still crossing the empty field near her farmhouse when the blizzard hit. And luckily the field has a wire fence that circles the perimeter. The farmhouse sits within 25 yards of the fence, so if she can find the fence, she can follow it back toward the house and find shelter. But so far, she can't find the fence. She reasoned that if she kept walking in a straight line, she would run into it. But she hasn't. So where is it? Has she been walking in circles? Was there a gap in the fence that she didn't know about? She considers changing her course, but isn't sure. So she does the only thing that she can think of. Lord God above, please hear me. I'm putting my life in your hands. Please show me a sign. A moment later, despite the storm raging around her, Etta feels a sense of peace. God's message is clear. Stay the course. So she keeps stumbling forward. Sure enough, five minutes later, her hand scrapes across something cold and sharp. She lunges forward and grabs the bare metal wire. She's found the fence. She cries out in delight. Yes. Yes. Thank you. But as eager as she is to hurry to safety, she knows her duty. She folds her frozen hands and thanks God for guiding her here. Anne asks him now to deliver her to safety. Then she reaches out for the metal wire to trace her fingers along it. It's freezing cold and shaking in the wind, but as long as she follows it, God will guide her home. School teacher James Cotton curses as he swivels his head. It's the same thing in every direction. Dense walls of swirling white. He pulls 11 year old Andreas Graeber and his 14 year old brother John close to him. Boys, we're near your parents home. I'm sure of it. But Cotton barely believes his own words. He saw some pretty vicious storms back east where he's from, but there were trees, rocks and other landmarks to orient himself. Out here, every direction looks the same. He guesses they've been trudging blindly for 90 minutes and he's not even sure which way is north anymore. His mind reels. His plan seems so simple. The farmhouse was just a half mile from school. All he and his seven students had to do was stick together and walk in a straight line. How did things get so fouled up? Despite Cotton's explicit instructions to stay together, the group splintered almost immediately. The problem was 11 year old Andreas Graeber stumbled and fell. Cotten and Andreas brother John stopped to help him. It hadn't taken more than 30 seconds. But even after that short delay, he could barely see the other five boys who'd kept walking. They were just ghostly silhouettes. Soon they vanished altogether. In truth though, Cotton isn't worried about the other five. There are two 16 year olds among them, both with good heads on their shoulders. They've almost certainly reached the Graeber house by now. He's far more worried about his own group. He feels disoriented and is chilled to the bone. Little Andreas is chattering too. Finally there's a bit of relief. The wind dies down for a minute and in that brief pause, John Graeber points and shouts. Mr. Cotton. Look. Trees. Cotton squints and hollers in triumph. Oh, finally. Yes, there are indeed trees over there. Saplings 50 yards off. Cotton rejoices because he recognizes them instantly. He passes by them every day walking to school. They lead right toward the Graber farmhouse. He grabs both boys hands. We've gotta run before the wind kicks up again. Let's go. Cotton runs as best as he can, but he's barely able to lift his knees in the thick snow. He's out of breath within seconds when Andreas stumbles again. Cotton wrenches the boy up and carries him. At last they reach the trees just seconds before the wind resumes. Ten minutes later, the Graeber home appears through the snow. Cotton lets Andreas down and helps the boys up the steps. He doesn't even bother knocking. He simply kicks the snow away from the door and shoves the boys inside. They stumble into the living room where 58 year old Peter Graeber Sr. Leaps up from his rocking chair. He's a stern man, but grabs his boys now and hugs them tight. Cotton is moved to see tears well in his eyes. He gives the father and sons a moment. Then he clears his throat. Mr. Graeber, I'm so glad to see you. Are the other boys in the kitchen? But Peter Senior looks at him strangely. Cotton remembers that he never learned much English. Cotton turns to John. John, can you translate for me? John does. He listens for his father's response and turns to Cotton. He wants to know what you mean. I mean the other five boys. Peter Jr. Was with them, along with the Kaufmann lads And Johann Albrecht Jr. Are they here? Did their parents come get them? A Few exchanges follow in German. Peter Sr. Seems to be asking for clarification. Then the man shakes his head, and what he says next makes John turn as white as the snow outside. Cotton feels a new surge of worry. What did he say, John? The lad can barely get the words out. He no. He's seen no. No sign of the others. Cotton feels his whole body tense. If the other five boys never reach the Graeber house, they must still be trapped outside in that deadly storm. Trapper Charlie Stabler cups his hand around his ear, straining to hear the barking of his dog, Bear Claws. He can just make it out over the roar of the blizzard that swept in and swallowed him and his trapping partner. Rough Clouds. This way. Let's go. He holds Rough Clouds hand to make sure they don't get separated. He can feel his partner staggering every few steps. Stabler keeps encouraging him. We can't be far from the campsite. Hang on. Rough Clouds only grunts in response. Stabler figures it was 2:30 in the afternoon when the storm blasted in. That was a half hour ago. Although he'd anticipated a turn in the weather, it came on faster and fiercer than he expected. They'd collected a nice haul of dead beavers, and at first they tried lugging them back toward their campsite. But in the storm they were too much to carry, so they dropped them in the snow. Any disappointment over the loss of the pelts was quickly overwhelmed by a more pressing concern staying alive. Without Bear Claws leading them, Stabler knows they'd be hopelessly lost. After a few more minutes, following the sound of his dog's barks, they arrive at their campsite. It's a huge relief, but he feels only a moment's respite. Almost none of their gear remains. The wind has blown away their tent and scattered their provisions. All that's left are two thick blankets made from buffalo hides. Stabler hears Rough Clouds moan behind him. We're doomed. Hey, knock it off. We're not giving up. We can build a shelter. Staebler grabs the blankets, then seizes his partner's hand and leads him on. They're near Beaver Creek, a rare spot on the prairie with trees. One tree in particular a few yards away, is thick and stout. He noticed a big snow drift against it yesterday. Stabler leads them there now. Their elders always told them that in emergencies like this, you use the snow to your advantage and make a shelter. So Stabler drops to his knees and starts scooping the loose snow into piles with his hands. Then he packs it down into the foundation of a solid wall. He snaps at rough clouds to help him, and the tall man plops down. Stabler wishes he didn't have to yell, but he doesn't regret it. He knows there's no way they'll survive this crisis unless they work together. 12 year old Lena Vecchi slips her textbook off her desk and conceals it beneath the loose fabric of her dress. She's heard some of the students say they think they might have to burn their readers to stay warm, and she can't let that happen. It's around 3:15pm Past the time when school lets out. But an hour ago a blizzard swallowed up their schoolhouse near Seward, Nebraska, trapping the teacher, Ms. Badger, and all 20 students inside. Lena's worried her foster mother Katarina will be mad at her for being late. After her mother abandoned her to live with relatives six months ago, Lina has been desperate to please her new guardians. She doesn't want to get abandoned again. She does her chores religiously and cleans her plate every night, no matter how much she dislikes what she served. School is no escape either. The other children make fun of her smallpox scars and call her names. She's learned to put a shell around herself and to ignore them. Lena knows her foster mother will be especially angry if anything happens to her textbook. It was expensive and Lena's foster siblings will need to use it in future years. Lena has strict instructions to keep it safe along with her shiny metal lunch pail, so no matter how cold it gets, she can't let the others burn her reader. She has to protect it. There's a knock on the door and the teacher answers to find a farmer there carrying an armful of blankets. Lena recognizes him as the father of a classmate. He's red faced and stamps the snow off his boots as he enters. I've come to get my children. The rest of you can come too. Ms. Badger looks worried. Sir. Are you sure it's safe? I live south of here, so we'll be going with the wind and it's straight along the road. We won't get lost. I'm not sure. Look outside. Well, you can't stay in this drafty schoolhouse all night with no food. I have blankets for the smallest children to wrap themselves in and most of the other children live south of here as well. We can drop them off on the way. After some more discussion, Ms. Badger tells the class to grab their coats. They are going with the farmer. All the students stand up, but Lena doesn't like this plan. She's one of the Few students who lives north of the schoolhouse. And she doesn't want to worry her foster parents by staying away overnight. If she angers them, they could send her away somewhere else. Somewhere even worse. Lena grabs her thin cloak. She didn't bring a coat that day, given the warm morning. Then she approaches Ms. Badger. I have to go home. You can't, Lena. You live north. Into the wind. But Lena doesn't care about the wind. She has to go home. She has chores to do. She argues with Ms. Badger, insisting that she cannot go with the rest of the class. Finally, an older boy named Lawrence cuts in. Excuse me, Ms. Badger. I live north of here too. I can make sure Lina gets home. We can follow the roads. Ms. Badger throws her hands up. Well, if you can handle her, fine. She's as stubborn as a mule. Then she walks away. Lawrence tells Leena to hurry up. Leena hesitates for a moment. She doesn't like Lawrence. On her first day of school he'd asked her if it was true that her mother abandoned her other children. Overheard and Lena was humiliated. But going with him is the only way she'll get home. She goes back to her desk and grabs her textbook and metal lunch pail to make sure nothing happens to them. Now, at last, she's ready for the mile long march through the snow and wind. Nineteen year old Etta Shattuck halts in the knee deep snow piled near a fence post and unknots the shawl tied across her face. She's been using it to protect her mouth and nose, but it keeps slipping down and she wants to adjust it. Unfortunately, her hands are nearly frozen through and she can't get the knot undone. She closes her eyes and whispers to herself, dear Lord, please help me in my hour of need. Etta suspects she's been following the fence for two hours now. last she gets the knot undone and wraps the shawl more tightly around her face. But at that very moment, a huge gust of wind kicks up stronger than anything she's felt in her life. It rips the shawl right out of her fingers. No. She tries snatching it but misses. The shawl is white and it vanishes instantly into the blowing snow. Etta grabs hold of the fence and cringes in fear, wondering what to do. She thought the fence would be her salvation, that she'd simply follow it to safety. So where is the farmhouse? Wasn't it no more than two dozen yards from the fence? A thought she's been suppressing suddenly bubbles up in her mind. Maybe she passed it already it's painted white, and between the churning snow and the wind, it's possible she stumbled past it without noticing. So should she turn around? But what if she's wrong and the farmhouse is still ahead? She has to make a decision, and soon. She doesn't know how much longer she'll last out here, especially without the shawl to protect her face. She needs guidance. So once again she closes her eyes. Dear Lord, please guide me now. I need your wisdom more than ever. It takes a few seconds, but an idea forms in her mind. Based on the direction she's going, she must be close to an abandoned saw hut on the neighboring farm. Maybe she can reach it. She knows there's still an old stove inside. With any luck, there will be kindling and matches too. Leaving the fence seems risky, but God wouldn't have put the thought in her mind for no reason. So Etta drops to her knees, crawls under the fence and struggles back to her feet. Then she stumbles forward into a world of pure pitiless white. This is the second episode of our four part series, School Children's Blizzard. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we recommend the books the Children's Blizzard by David Laskin and In All Its Fury, a collection of survivor's tales put together by WH o'. Gara. I'm your host, Mike Corey. Sam Keane wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Sound design by Joe Richardson. Audio engineer is Sergio Henriquez. Original theme music by Scott Velasquez and 2K for freeze on sync. Fact checking by Alyssa Jung Perry Produced by Emily Frost. Managing producer is Desi Blaylock. Senior producers are Andy Herman and Austin Rackless. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louie. For Wondering.