A Little House on the Prairie/TMNT crossover.

It's partially from the book, some from the TV series, some inspirations from Dances With Wolves, and a lot from the old imagination.

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Whistling a cheerful tune, Mr. Edwards trudged along, leading his pack mule, down the muddy path that followed the river bank, that was swollen and turbulent from a recent Spring storm. A movement in the shadows of a thick stand of brush caught his eye, and he slowed, carefully unslinging his rifle from his shoulder. Whatever that was, it was something big. Maybe a bear! They were pretty danged ornery at this time of year. He waited a moment longer, peering down the gunsights, and a quiet voice said, "Hey, don't shoot. I come in peace."

"Well, if you come in peace, then why don't you show yerself," Mr. Edwards said, lowering the gun only slightly. "I've no argument with you, but how do I know you ain't gonna shoot me first?"

"I don't have a gun, " the voice said calmly. "And uh, I have no argument with you either. But... I'm kind of reluctant to show myself, cause I really don't want to startle you, is all."

Mr. Edwards raised his head and squinted. "Tell you what, mister, why don't you just come on outa there slowly, keeping your hands where I can see 'em, and you'll have my word as an honest man that I won't shoot ya, even in startlement."

"Just one thing more. Do you, uh, do you like turtles?"

Mr. Edwards frowned a moment in thought, and then laughed a little. "What in tarnation are you talkin' about? Turtles?"

"That's because I look like one," the voice said.

"Now there's a joke!" Mr. Edwards busted out laughing.

"No joke," the bushes said in reply. "I really do look like one, and I just don't want to startle you so that you shoot me by mistake. I'm not looking to get shot today, okay? I've had enough problems, lately. If you could just lower that rifle, I'd appreciate it, because I can give you my word of honor that I will not try to harm you in any way."

"You must be a jokester, or maybe just plumb crazy, talking like that," Mr. Edwards said as he lowered the gun. "Either way, that don't worry me none. I've seen plenty of crazy fellas in my time. Now come on out. You ain't gonna come to no harm by me-eeyaah!"

The turtle had come out, walking on his hind legs just like a man! He wore a red kerchief around his head, a brown leather belt around his broad middle, and had strips of cloth wound around his lower legs. In one paw he held a long, stout pole. He was hardly tall enough to see over the mule's withers, his skin as green as new grass, and his eyes were brown and wide, like that of an anxious pup-dog.

Mr. Edward's own eyes had gotten so big and round, that they were in danger of falling out of their sockets.

The turtle raised one of his big green paws to wave a little, in a supplicating gesture. "Now you promised you wouldn't shoot," he said.

A deer fly bumbled its way into Mr. Edward's open mouth, setting him to coughing and spitting. "Great JUMPIN' Judas on the Devil's pitchfork, you really IS a turtle," he exclaimed when he got his breath back. "But I ain't NEVER seen a turtle like your kind, in ALL my born days. Whatever kind are you s'posed to be, other than the... the walkin'... talkin' kind?"

"Uh..." The turtle looked uncertain, and shrugged. "I'm a mutant kind of turtle."

Mr. Edwards finally closed his mouth, before another deer fly could get in. He rested the rifle on its butt end against the toe of his boot, and pulled off his hat to scratch at his head a moment. "Never heard o' no myoo-tent turtle before. I've been all over this country, and I thought I'd seen everything, too. Just goes to show, no matter how much you think you seen, there's always SOMEthin' you ain't never seen before. How 'bout that!" He settled his hat back on his head, and giving the turtle another long look, slung his gun by its strap over his shoulder and went to check the cinch on his mule's pack saddle, as though it would help him think. "I dunno where you're headed, but I'm on my way to Independence. If you want to come along, you are more n' welcome to. I've been holed up on a claim north of here all winter, and I haven't seen nary a soul in about 6 months. Sure could use someone who c'n talk back when I talk to 'em, instead of just Elmer, here..."

The turtle leaned against the stick he'd been carrying. "Independence?"

"Yep, its a fort belonging to the United States Cavalry, about oh, forty or fifty mile from here... about a day and a half's walk in good weather, provided we don't run into no hostiles," Mr. Edwards said, while he adjusted the packs.

"Hostiles?"

Mr. Edwards stopped to stare at the turtle again. "Hostiles. Injuns. You know, injuns? Bushels of 'em. Didn't you know this is Injun Territory? I don't mean no disrespect, Mr. Uh..."

"Donatello."

"Mr. Donnateller, pleased to meet ya, and you can call me Edwards!" He took a step toward Mr. Donnateller to extend his hand, who gingerly grasped it in return.

"Edwards. Okay."

Mr. Edwards grinned and then retreated to his mule to take a hold of the lead rope. "Now as I was saying, not meaning no disrespect, but you don't sound like you been out on the frontier very long, have ya?"

"Apparently not," Mr. Donnateller said, as he and Mr. Edwards walked along the path.

"If that's so, then I best tell you about them injuns. Now some kinds are decent enough, they want to just mind their own business and not bother nobody, so long's nobody bothers them. But then you've got a real bad bunch of savages who want nothing better than to stir up a whole lot of trouble for the white folks. And they would just as soon shoot a feller like me full of arrows as look at him, then carry off his scalp an' all the goods he's got."

"You mean, like... the Pawnee?"

"Pawnee? Oh, yes. Yes indeed! Pawnee, and Blackfoot, Osage, Crow and Sioux, they're getting thickern' raisins in a mince pie, around here. More and more folks are coming out to stake claims, start farms and raise cattle and sheep an' all, and so them injuns can't come and go as they please like they used to, and they ain't none too happy about that. Say, what do you know about them Pawnee?"

"Oh, not much, just did some reading about them recently..."

Mr. Edwards came to a dead stop. "You can READ? Can you write, too?"

"Uh, well- sure," Mr. Donnateller said, hesitantly.

"Don't that beat ALL," Mr. Edwards said slowly, as though to take it all in. " A turtle that can not ONLY talk, but read n' write, too? I can't do THAT much!"

"Ah, but I'm sure you know a lot of things that I don't," Mr. Donnateller countered politely.

"I s'pose," Mr. Edwards said, thoughtfully scratching at his beard as he resumed his pace. "It's like I figure, some folks do good with book learnin' and some folks got a lotta natural horse sense, and some folks, well, they don't seem to have much sense at all, anywheres. But I figure, maybe they don't look like they got much upstairs, but maybe they know something nobody much else does. Now I ain't meaning no disrespect, Mr. Donnateller, you look like you know SOMEthin' of what you're about, maybe all sorts of things that I'd have no idea in Creation what you were talking about. But I do know a Greenhorn when I see one, and maybe you need to do a different kind of learnin' than from what you get in books."

"Greenhorn, huh?" Mr. Donnateller said, and kind of showed his pearly white teeth in what might have been a grin.

Mr. Edwards held up a hand. "That don't have nothing to do with your color neither, sir."

Mr. Donnateller laughed a little. "Aah, it's okay, I definitely I have some learning to do, out here."

They trudged along a piece, then Mr. Edwards spoke up again. "Whereabouts are you from, I take it someplace back East?"

"Yep."

"Wherabouts?"

"Uh, New York."

"New York? How 'bout that. I know a feller from that state. He was born at a place called Cuba."

The turtle looked puzzled. "Cuba?"

"Yep, Cuba, New York."

"Oh, I get it. A town. I thought you meant the country."

"Country?"

Mr. Donnateller showed his pearly whites a bit again. "Never mind, it's not that important."

Mr. Edwards gave the turtle a quizzical look, then shrugged and laughed. "Whatever you say, Mr. Donnateller! Say, speaking of that feller from New York, he's got a farm just down the road from that ford over yonder. Charles Ingalls is his name. Got himself a real fine family. I s'pose they would be a sight disapp'inted if I didn't stop to give 'em a holler."

"Uh, okay, I'll just wait by the river, then."

"Nothing DOING," Mr. Edwards exclaimed in protest. "You're gonna come along. I'll introduce ya. I tell you, they are downright decent folk, and they aren't gonna judge you none by your appearance, I can tell you that much."

Mr. Donnateller frowned. "You sure about that?"

Mr. Edwards grinned broadly in return. "Sure as shootin' fish in a barrel," he said. "If they know a feller like me, what's to tell you they gonna treat you any different?"

"Good point... I think."

Laura was coming out of the henhouse with her sister Mary, their aprons full, when they spotted the newcomers coming up the hill.

"Who's that," Laura said, trying to shade her eyes with one hand, against the lowering sun.

"Laura! Hold that with both hands, or you might lose those eggs," Mary cautioned. "Let's take them in to Ma, first."

By the time they came back outside, the two fellows leading a pack mule were stopped by the stable, where Pa had emerged from doing his chores. They were standing talking, and the taller man was waving his arms in a wild gesture.

"Who is that, Mary?" Ma came to the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I think it's Mr. Edwards. Can I go see, Ma?"

"Yes, see if he and his companion want to stay to supper," Ma said.

"Can I go, too?" Laura looked hopefully up at Ma. "I did all my chores!"

"Very well," said Ma. "You stay close by your sister, and don't get in the way of that mule!"

"Yes, ma," they said in unison, and ran toward the stable.

"Who is that with Mr. Edwards," Laura said in Mary's ear, as they approached. "He's kind of curious looking, isn't he?"

"Hush, Laura! Remember your manners," Mary hissed back, and then straightened when she got the attention of the newcomers.

"Well now, what do we have here," Mr. Edwards called out to them. "A couple of fine young ladies?"

"Hello, Mr. Edwards! It's good to see you again," Laura said, skipping ahead of Mary.

"How dee do, Miss Laura, and Miss Mary!" Mr. Edwards doffed his cap, and gave them a gallant, sweeping bow.

Laura then noticed Pa, who was leaning against his hayfork and looking oddly quiet. She followed his gaze.

Laura gasped, and stood stock still, as they all stared at the turtle. There was a short, uncomfortable pause, as the turtle shifted his feet, his eyes flicking nervously from one person to another.

"Well ain't this a fine kettle o' fish," Mr. Edwards said, breaking the silence. "Guess I left my manners down by the river bank. Mr. Ingalls, this is Mr. Donnateller, from back East. He hails from New York state!"

Pa seemed to wake up, then. "Is that so? Well how 'bout that. Whereabouts, Mr. Donnateller?"

"New York City, actually," the turtle said, shifting his staff to the other hand as Pa shook the other.

"I'll be jiggered," Pa said. "New York City, eh? Now that's very interesting. You've come a long way, then. Edwards, why don't you put your mule in the stable, on the other side of David, and put some hay down for him, and then you and Mr. Donnateller come on up to the house. We'd be glad to have you stay for supper!"

"Be much obliged, Mr. Ingalls!" Mr. Edwards said, as he led the mule into the stable.

Laura caught the turtle's eye, and realized she been staring open mouthed, like an ill-mannered child, at him. She blushed and looked away.

"Mary, you and Laura go help your ma," Pa said, gesturing at them. "Get along with you, skedaddle!"

If Ma was the least bit surprised at the stranger, she gave no indication, but graciously greeted him along with Mr. Edwards when they came in from washing up.

"You may sit in my chair, Mr. Donnateller," Mary said politely, her blue eyes on him for only a moment. Mary never seemed to forget herself, but was always a good girl. Laura cringed inside, when she remembered the turtle had noticed her gawking at him.

"Thank you very much, " Mr. Donnateller said, giving her a shy grin, as he sat down.

During the saying of grace, Mary caught Laura's eye, and gave her a little frown of disapproval, when she noticed Laura been peeking at the turtle opposite her. She then obediently shut her eyes tight. Laura tried hard not to look at the turtle, as he ate. He must think she was very ill mannered, indeed.

After supper, Pa and Mr. Edwards and Mr. Donnateller went outside, and talked while Pa smoked his pipe.

"Ma, can we look at Pa's Animal Book?" Laura asked.

"May we," Ma corrected her. "And whatever for?"

"I just want to see if they have something like Mr. Donnateller in there, he looks kind of like a giant tortoise," Laura said, glancing at Mary.

"Laura, its very rude to comment about Mr. Donnateller's appearance, especially when he is our guest," Ma said, though she too looked over at the big green book on the shelf next to the Bible. Laura could tell Ma was curious too, but she didn't say anything. "Well, all right, but only for a minute," Ma finally said. "I suppose it can't do any harm."

"Thank you, Ma!" Laura hugged her, trying to contain her excitement, and watched as Mary carefully opened the book.

"Look, there! That one looks most like him!" Laura pointed at the drawing of a pond turtle. "Those shapes on the shell look the same."

"Those are called scutes, Laura," Mary said, reading the description under the picture. "And the back shell is called a ca-ra-pace. Carapace. The bottom shell is called the pl-ast-ron. Plastron."

"Turtles don't talk, do they?" Laura said, trying to see the book better. "And I thought they all had to crawl on their bellies."

"I don't think so. But I guess some can, if Mr. Donnateller can."

"Maybe Mr. Donnateller isn't really a turtle after all," Laura said uncertainly, fingering one of her braids.

"All right girls, that is enough. Time to put the book away," Ma said quietly, as she picked up her mending.

"Yes, ma," Mary said, as she set it back on the shelf.

Laura pondered. It was all so very confusing. Mr. Donnateller talked and acted like a man, but looked like a turtle. She wasn't sure if he was one or the other, or just a mixture of both. But how could he be both? Then she remembered the newspapers that Mr. Edwards had brought from Independence for them to read, from time to time. There was an article about a circus back East, that had people and creatures in it that were very strange looking indeed. One was a bearded lady... and another, a very small man, who rode on the back of a little dog that was done up to look like a tiny horse. There had been talk of people who were half man, half animal... maybe Mr. Donnateller was one of those.
It seemed most of those kind of people came from back East. Or from a faraway land that took many days by ship to reach. Such a big world out there, and so much to learn about! She hoped Mr. Donnateller and Mr. Edwards would stay a while, so she could hear of the places they had been and the things they had seen. She was always interested in new and unusual things, just like Pa, and Mr. Edwards. That's why he and Mr. Edwards were good friends, Mr. Edwards was always off travelling during the summer months, and stayed in his little sod house in the wintertime.

Pa came in, just then. "Caroline, could you bring out the extra quilts and blankets? I talked Edwards and Donnateller into staying for the night."

"All right, Charles," Ma said. "Where do they want to sleep?"

"Oh they said the haystack would be fine. You know Edwards." Pa laughed when he said that. "His companion is decent enough. Doesn't talk very much, but that might be from Edwards not letting him get a word in edgewise."

"That poor man, all by himself all winter, no wonder he has so much to say, must keep it bottled up all that time," Ma said, shaking her head in sympathy.

"Edwards gets by just fine." Pa said, taking the stack of blankets from Mary. "He knows if he needs to talk to somebody, he can find his way here easily enough. Thank you, girls! I'll be back in a two shakes of a lamb's tail." With that, Pa took the lantern that Ma had lit, and went out into the darkness.

Don settled back into his bed of hay, drawing the edge of the quilt up under his chin. He sighed and listened to the wind stirring the edges of the haystack, and to Edward's snores, coming from the bedroll on the other end of the hollowed out space that sheltered them from the chilly night air.

It was so quiet... there probably wasn't another farm for miles around. People sure lived isolated lives back then- or now, he corrected himself- since what was past was now present.

It had been a long, confusing day. Started out that early morning, he had been working on a time and place travel device that he'd casually named the Shifter-- since it looked a bit like a miniature version of a detached shift stick from a 1968 Camaro-- and he had entered some coordinates for a test run. Thanks to an unforeseen programming bug, the Shifter had reset itself without warning, turning whatever numbers he had entered to zeros and nines, and then activated itself. So, he found himself stuck in this arbitrary time and place, until the Shifter synchronized itself with the original numbers he had set. There was no way around it, it couldn't be reset, until real time itself counted off the numbers till they matched the intended setting, and also sent him back to the place he'd come from. He'd meant to send himself back only an hour or two, and ended up being sent back about a hundred and thirty years... and somewhere in the Midwest.

He drew the Shifter from his belt pocket, and sighed. According to its internal clock, he had 96.5 hours to go, to re-synchronization. Divide that by 24, and you had a little over 4 days. Four days in mid 19th century frontier America, with "hostiles" running around, and people who were apparently so accustomed to dealing with things beyond their control, that they hardly gave the concept of a walking, talking turtle a second thought. This was a relatively recent past, compared to some time jumps he'd made with his brothers and Renet, the Time Keeper, but it seemed to be the oddest place in history that he'd ever visited. Maybe because it was only a little removed from what was familiar?

He may as well get a lesson out of it. Splinter had taught his students to make the most of whatever situation they found themselves in... and yet something told Don he'd have to make as few ripples in this place as possible. One never knew what an impact it would make on history if he interacted TOO much... but how much is too much? Interaction had been inevitable, once his incessant curiousity to have a look at Mr. Edwards had gotten him noticed. It was that same curiosity that led Don into trouble, at times. Leo had voiced his disapproval over Don's lack of discretion in the past, but Splinter reminded them that it was that same curiosity that also led to some very important discoveries, not to mention some unique solutions to difficult problems.

Was it fate that caused action, or action that caused fate?

He shook off the questions, when it occurred to him that he could spend the rest of his life pondering over what could very well be the unanswerable. Yeah... Stephen Hawking would have fun with this anomaly... and Einstein would flip out in his grave... Aah, never mind that now, tired... just get some sleep... think more clearly in the morning...

The sound of a cow bell nearby awoke him. It was morning, and Edwards was still snoring softly in his bedroll. Don sat up and looked out of the cave made in the haystack, and saw a sleek, brown and white cow staked out several yards away, placidly pulling up the new grass. She looked up at him with only minor interest, and went back to grazing.

Nature was urgently beckoning, and Don looked out over the gently rolling prairie. Eeyagh, he thought to himself as he climbed out of the haystack. Not even bushes or a pile of rocks or anything... can't use this haystack... ah, what's that little building over there? Looks like a privy... better check it out, quick. Hope nobody's in there...

Luckily, no one was, and Don breathed a sigh of relief, as he shut the door behind him.

When he came out, he nearly collided with one of the little girls. The brown haired one, what was her name, Lori?

"Oh, " she said, and jumped back a little, startled to see him.

"Oops, sorry," Don said, as he sidestepped out of her way. "I was ah, on my way out. No problem."

She blushed nearly crimson, and ducked into the little building without another word.

Don wandered around the place, until he found the pigpen. He leaned against the fence for a while and watched the hog, its snout still buried in the trough, noisily eating the last of its breakfast. "How's it going, Wilbur? Is that good?" Don snickered at his own joke, and then noticed the brown haired girl was peeking around the corner of the fence at him, her eyes wide. "Hey, there."

"Hello," she said in a small voice. She was carrying a pail full of milk.

"Laura!" The woman was standing in the doorway of the house, her hands on her hips.

"M-my mother wants you to be sure to wash up before you come in for breakfast," Laura stammered as she turned to go.

"Okay, uh, hey, you need help with that?"

"No, thank you, I can manage!" She scurried away across the yard, her long braids bouncing against her back.

"Hm." Don looked toward the haystack and figured maybe he'd better wake Edwards.

He poked his head in, and saw the man was still snoring way. "Hey Mr. Edwards."

The man snorted, and rolled over.

"Mr. Ed-wards..." Don sang out softly, cupping a hand to the side of his mouth. "You best be getting up, or I'll be getting all of the pancakes. Can't you smell 'em?"

"Grhm!" Mr. Edwards' nostrils fluttered. "Frzzat?"

"Wake up and smell the coffee, man!"

"Gooha," he said in response and sat up, rubbing his face, and making a noise like a surfacing walrus.

"Good morning," Don said cheerfully. "Nice day, and not a cloud in sight. No sense in wasting it, eh?"

Mr. Edwards blinked at Don and broke out into a broad grin. "Well I'll be cornswoggled! You weren't a dream after all."

"And neither were you, " Don countered in amusement. "Anyway, thought I'd let you know, I was told Mrs. Ingalls has breakfast waiting."

"Well now, we can't keep a busy woman like her waiting, that just wouldn't be fittin'," Mr. Edward said, untangling himself from the blankets. "You get yourself a-goin', I'll be right behind you like a coyote at a jackrabbit. Gotta go see a man about a hoss, first."

"Yeah, okay, " Don said, with a grin. Was interesting to know how some expressions still carried on, over time.

Don was amazed at the tidiness of the interior of the little one room house. Everything was spotless, and so neatly and simply organized that it reminded him of the Shakers of Pennsylvania. Or the Amish. But this WAS the 19th century, and most country people lived like this, didn't they?

Mrs. Ingalls dropped a short stack along with a couple of fried eggs and bacon, onto a plate, and the blonde girl Mary brought it over to him. There was smaller plate with a little block of butter that had a strawberry with leaves embossed in the top, and a bowl of brown sugar, on the red checkered tablecloth. You know, he thought as he ate, and Mary carefully poured him a cup of coffee, I could live like this the rest of my life, and I don't think I'd complain too much...

Edwards came in with Mr. Ingalls, and dug into his food without much fanfare while Mr. Ingalls had a second cup of tea.

"Would you care for any more, Mr. Donnateller?" Mrs. Ingalls gestured at his plate with her spatula.

"Oh! No thanks, Ma'am, this will do me just fine. Though I have to say," he added, hoping he wasn't insulting her by not trucking it away as fast as Edwards could. "I am hard pressed to think of the last time I've had a meal as fine as the ones you have so generously provided."

Mr. Ingalls' eyes lit up. "By George, I agree, Mr. Donnateller! She's likely the best cook on this side of the Missouri! And she can turn quite a griddle cake, can't she?"

"Oh, Charles," Mrs. Ingalls said, turning back to the stove as her cheeks turned pink. But she smiled.

Mr. Ingalls laughed, and finished his tea. "I suppose you'll be heading out before long, Edwards?"

Edwards made a sound of assent behind bulging cheeks and waved a fork in the general direction of the barn.

Don grinned, and let Mary pick up his now empty dishes. Mr. Ingalls was about to say something when Laura came running in, out of breath.

"P-pa," she gasped. "There's... there's some... they're after Rosie! And the horses! I saw them go into the barn!"

"Who?" Mr. Ingalls stood up.

"Indians, pa! They don't have any hair, just feathers on the back of their heads, and they're all painted-"

"Charles, " Ma said, looking at him, her eyes frightened.

"You stay in the house with your ma, and lock the door after us!" Mr. Ingalls exchanged grim glances with Edwards, and grabbed his rifle off the hooks over the door. Don followed.

"Mr. Donnateller, this doesn't have to be your affair," Edward said to him soberly, as he tucked his gun under an arm. "Meaning no offense, but I'm not too sure what they'd do if they saw a feller like yerself."

"Good point. Tell you what, I'll hang back," Don said, letting them stride ahead of him.

Dag nabbin' injuns, just when a feller was gonna have himself a decent day, there they were, and Pawnee, to boot, Mr. Edwards grumbled to himself when he saw the decorated ponies standing outside the barn door. Thievin' varmints...

Mr. Ingalls readied his rifle, and hallooed toward the barn, until the men inside emerged. Four, five, six... how many more? He didn't like the looks in their eyes, either. Devils, all of 'em. Up to nothing good.

"What can I do for you fellers this fine morning," Mr. Ingalls said, with as much congeniality as he could muster.

The tallest, fiercest looking one scowled, and stepped forward to face Mr. Ingalls. He said something in harsh syllables from deep in his throat, and gestured at the guns in Mr. Ingalls' and Mr. Edwards' hands.

"We don't want no trouble," Mr. Edwards declared, his hands tightening on his rifle. "I'd like to still have something to slap my hat on, at the end of this day, too," he muttered to Mr. Ingalls.

Without warning, the first brave lifted a club to throw at Mr. Ingalls. Mr. Ingalls' gun went off, and the injun went down, right away.

His companions then let loose a series of spine chilling howls, and the nearest one dove at Mr. Edwards, another war club held aloft. Mr. Edwards pulled the trigger, and the attacker 's savage expression crumpled as he went down, his weapon falling loose from his hand. The others surged forward, and one had jumped on Mr. Ingalls, who was desperately struggling to stay the knife that was about to stab him, and Mr. Edwards thought for sure this would be the end of him, but suddenly, the attack ended!

He rolled quickly to his feet, and saw that the turtle was standing over the other three, holding his staff across the front of him, while he watched the last remaining brave leap up and gallop frantically away on his pony. He looked plenty spooked, that injun did. I s'pose they didn't even know what hit 'em.

Mr. Edwards looked over to see that Mr. Ingalls was still in one piece, and still had his scalp intact. Mr. Ingalls sure had a lot of hair... and that turtle feller didn't have one strand on him. Maybe those injuns wouldn't have known what to do about him, anyhow.

Mr. Donnateller was looking at the fallen. "Well, these guys are toast," he said quietly, as he poked and prodded them with his stick.

"Toast? By George, if you say so," Mr. Ingalls said, looking very unhappy. "I'll go attend to Caroline and the girls. I'm sure they must be frightened nearly out of their wits by now. And I can't let them see this mess."

"You go tend to your family, Ingalls, Donnateller and I will take care o' this." Mr. Edwards picked up his gun and looked it over carefully for damage, then slung it on his shoulder.

The wild screams and sound of shots coming from the barn caused Laura to sit up and pull off the smothering quilts Ma had hurriedly laid on them all. "Ma!"

"Lie down, Laura," Ma said. Her face was white, but she lay very still beside them.

Mary did not move either, even when Laura accidentally kicked her. "Ma, what about Pa? Are they-"

"Laura!" Ma's voice was strained, and Laura obediently lay her head back down. In the silence that followed, she could hear Mary quietly sobbing.

Then there was a pounding on the door, and everyone jumped in unison. "Caroline, open up! It's all right, you are safe, now." Pa's voice came reassuringly through the stout wood.

Ma exhaled audibly as she leaped up to lift the latch. "Oh, Charles," she said, as he hugged her.

"They are gone, now. It's all over. But I think it would be a good idea if you all stayed in the house for a while, we want to make sure that there won't be any more trouble today."

"All right girls, you can get up, now," Ma said, anxiously smoothing her apron. "You heard your pa, no going out until he says so."

Part Two