My father knew the gleam in my eyes all too well.

"Now Milly, we have a home here. We need to make the best out of it."

Milly pouted, but followed her father diligently into their new home. She wrinkled her nose as he walked up to the dingy shack. Dirt covered the walls, and sewage was in the street. Still, she was a good daughter, and followed her family into the shack.

The walls were covered in soot, or dirt, Milly didn't know which. There were dishes in the sink that were weeks old, and covered in mold. The air was thick with dust, and her baby brother coughed something fierce. She again made up her mind, to make her father see they were needed in a new land.

Her father left almost at once in order to find a job to support his family. Her mother started taking care of the baby coughing, and asked her to start cleaning. Milly took a bucket, cleaned it out, and started mopping the floor. Wrinkling her nose at the dust, she started humming a lively tune. Her mother watched Milly and smiled to herself. Such hope.

After walking around for the day looking for work, and finding none, her father came home in a dark mood. Not quite seeing that, Milly ran up to him and started jabbering about the meekness of their home.

"Don't you think we could do better somewhere else?" She asked with bright eyes. "Stephan is sick from the dirt here, and I'm starvin!"

"No. Keep it clean, and let me be daughter! There will be no food tonight for you. Maybe that will teach you to not ask so many questions!"

But Milly wasn't one to bide. She knew the west was where her family needed to be, and get there she would.