A/N Below.

When Declan thought he would just die if he moved another step, Jake turned around a bend, and the house came into view. Declan thought maybe the gleaming windows were smiling, mocking his pain and suffering. He caught up with Jake as the other man was bounding up the stairs.

Heave. Heave. "Man, how can you move after that run?"

Jake didn't reply, standing in the kitchen as he was. There were two plates on the stove, one marked "Jerk" and the other marked "Declan" with a label over the tin. Declan's label a smiley face next to his name, and Jake's had a frown on it. The corners of Jake's mouth twitched. "Well, looks like there's some breakfast."

"Thank God. I'm starving." Deck huffed.

They ate and cleaned up in the next half an hour. Shortly after that, Declan found himself standing in a barn, with Jake handing him a shovel, gesturing to a wheelbarrow, and asking if he knew how to muck. When answered affirmatively, Declan was left to it. Jake wandered off to do something else. Moments later Sam came by, sweat on her brow and a glow in her eyes.

"Seen Jake, Deck?" Sam asked.

"Nope. I've sure seen a lot of crap though..." He wiped his brow.

"We've all got to earn our stripes. Cowboy up. He trusted you to do the job correctly. Count yourself lucky." Sam sounded as though she spoke from experience.

"Guess I should, after he dragged me on that run."

"He took you with him?"

"Yeah..." The was a question in the tone that matched her disbelief.

"Uh, that's great. His runs mean a lot to him. Guess you do, too." She paused contemplatively. "Hurry up, then I'll show you the horses..." She smiled. And in that second, he saw a fraction of the beauty he knew captivated his friend shine out from within and he was awestruck. There was his best friend's wife, the craziest woman he'd ever met, and she glowed in worn jeans and a guazey, long-sleeved t-shirt.

"Why you looking at me like that?" She seemed puzzled, pausing in her passionate monologue about the horses he'd only met in passing.

He started. "You're just really relaxed here, Sam."

And she was. Over the course of the day, she moved fluidly from her horse to the truck, over rails and fencing, and over the uneven terrain. She worked hard, displaying a quiet courage and resourcefulness that Deck hadn't expected from her. She handled problems and troubleshot little things that came up, as well as working with her latest case. She seemed to have this way with horses that Deck found amazing, and he couldn't resist following her around like a lost puppy. She handled a pocket knife and twine and countless tools he couldn't name with the same grace with which she used a needle. Sam communicated with horses better than she did people, it seemed, and her ease and confidence in her environment was evident in her every movement. She sure tripped a lot at school, but it wasn't the case here. She laughed and smiled, joked and poked fun at everyone she crossed paths with. It was strange seeing an introvert come alive in her element. And if anything was Samantha Anne Forester-Ely's element, it was this land, among these horses.

After lunch, Jake strode into the Sam's eyeline, and hopped over the gate that enclosed her workspace. Their latest case was progressing well, a fiesty mare recovering from a trailer accident.

"Brat?"

"Hm?"

Neither looked away from Cookie. Sam concentrated on the equine massage patterns, and Jake spoke softly. "Taking it easy today?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes "I'm fine."

"Don't whine and you might convince me."

"We've got to go over to Dad's soon. I have a doctor's appointment, tomorrow, by the way. Do you want to come?"" She paused knowing his nod was all the reply she needed, "And look at how well Cookie is doing this morning, aren't you Cookie?"

He let her health go, and agreed on both counts.

Declan was sitting atop Frankie a bit later, who plodded along following Witch and Ace towards River Bend.

"So, why are we going over there?" Declan was eager to break the silence that had settled between them. The other two saw nothing wrong with it, but to Declan it was freaky.

Sam replied, "We're family." As if that answered it. "Plus, somebody gets paid."

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd do it anyway."

"But what exactly do you do?" Deck inquired.

"Same things as at the Three Ponies, only different, sometimes, because it's Dad's ranch and not Luke's. Generally, most of our cases are there. There's only a case at Three Ponies when we're home, if we feel like it. It's actually Dad's line of work, but we've done most of it recently." Sam replied.

Well, wasn't that just the best explanation ever? Declan soon saw what she meant, though. Though both ranches did much the same thing, on the same schedule as dictated by the seasons, each place had a different heartbeat, a different order, and perhaps a slightly different focus in philosophy. Deck was surprised to see how much the little things mattered, how much it shaped each ranch. Deck's thoughts stopped on the way back to Three Ponies as he nearly fell of the horse. He grabbed on to the pommel as he scrambled to grab the horn and right himself from toppling over as Frankie meandered along. Maybe the riding was the reason they didn't talk. This riding thing was hard work.

The next afternoon found Sam and Jake away from home for the afternoon. She had been lucky that Dr. Hull, her regular OB/GYN, had had an opening closer to home than across the border in Utah. She travelled between two or three offices as the wide distances of the rural West required. Sam liked the older woman, who'd actually delivered her. She felt connected to her mother, in this way, as though her mother would be a part of the lives of her hypothetical children, even before they existed. Sometimes, when Dr. Hull was giving her advice, she wondered if they were the same words she'd said to her mother. More practically, she trusted Dr. Hull because she was no nonsense, a real cowgirl, with an understanding of the women she worked with that went far beyond her profession.

Sam shifted in the chair. She hated waiting. Jake was smart and she just barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. He'd brought a book about pasture management they'd both wanted to read. She was staring at her hands, tapping her foot occasionally. She hated doctor's offices, they were so bright and awful. Looking down, she saw a slight smudge on her shirt. Where had that come from? She rubbed at it, it was merely a smidge of dirt, but the tiny imperfection made her feel like she was a squash at a pumkin party, out of place and ungainly. It was another mark against her, one the world could see, like Hester's red A. She felt bare, in places like this, exposed, like everyone knew, from the nurses to the random lady in the waiting room.

There was a noise, the flipping of the plastic flags outside the door. "Sam?" Jake put away his book, and they stared at the door like sitting ducks as Dr. Hull came in, and greeted them. After a moment, she got down to business. "Now, Sam, why are you here today?"

Sam replied honestly, "I, uh, passed out yesterday, and so..."

The doctor smiled, knowing the couple well, "so you said you were fine, but Jake insisted you come and say hello to me?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Sam nodded. She would have come herself, she wasn't dumb. But still, she didn't think it was as big a deal as Jake did. He'd hovered for the last two days like a broody hen, and she just wanted the doctor to tell them what she already knew, that she was fine, things were at the status quo, and they could go home in time to help with afternoon chores.

Dr. Hull began, "How long was she out, Jake?"

He replied, "Two minutes and six seconds, total."

Dr. Hull nodded. "Right." She went through a cursory examination, feeling for irregularities, asking. "How bad is it, Sam, the pain? Be honest, please. I can't help you if you're not."

Sam frowned, "A seven on a bad day. A five on a good one. I'm okay." It wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She was strong, she had to be. She hardly ever thought about it, to be honest. Dr. Hull continued asking questions and reviewing her file. There were even more questions, more discussion, and finally Dr. Hull voiced her opinion. "All right, folks. Sounds to me like the pill isn't working for you anymore, Sam."

Sam's mind spun. She'd eaten bacon yesterday. Bacon. And Coffee. She'd thought caffeine was helping her feel better. And...oh, no, shellfish. She had eaten shellfish last week, not to mention the hot bath three days ago, and goat cheese she'd made herself had been on her salad Friday night. She hoped they weren't expecting, not because it would be the most awful thing ever, but because they hadn't planned it. She'd had coffee and unpasteurized milk for heaven's sake. What kind of parent would she be if she forced coffee and processed meat on her fetus?

"Isn't...working? But...that's its job, you know, to work, and like, be...functional." Sam began. Sam breathed. Who was she kidding, even in her own head? She wasn't normal. An accidental pregnancy was as likely to happen to her as Jake was likely to declare that he wanted to become a politican and take up public speaking.

The doctor smiled, understanding Sam's meaning and the slightly cautious look on Jake's face. "I mean for your endometriosis, Sam, not as a contraceptive in general. It's about the types and levels of hormones. Still, should probably switch you out to a different type of pill, and you need to be viligant about a good pain management system, and for the love of God, some rest once in a while."

"Oh." Sam said lamely, glancing at Jake quickly. She did not want him to get in his head that she needed to rest. She'd never leave the bed, and while that wasn't an awful thought, she knew that Jake did not think sex was restful. Could she convince him? She bit back a smile.

"When we talked about your endometriosis not six months ago," she glanced at the computer in the corner, "you reported little pain, and only moderate symtoms, but a great deal of irregularity." At Sam's nod, she continued and switched gears, "How do you feel about shots instead of a pill? Progestrone might be a good alternative for you. It's a once every three months office visit with me, and then you're set."

Jake asked, "But what about the faint last night?"

Dr. Hull paused, "The fact that you were out for two minutes, is, to say the least, not good." She outlined the reason she felt was most likely that Sam had fainted and assured her that no brain damage or otherwise ill effects would have gone undetected, adding, "I suggest a muscle relaxant if things get that bad for you again, though with the shot, there should be no reason for that to happen."

Sam nodded, digesting the information set before her. The shot was a good option, one they'd discussed before. The muscle relaxants, however, were not going to happen. She'd take the script, but she hated being loopy or out of it. She would take them if she had to, though.

Dr. Hull continued, "However, to be on the safe side, I'm going to ask you to take a detour to the bathroom. She pulled a cup kit out of the cabinet above the exam table. "We'll run a test to set you at ease, if you don't mind. I think your PMS is just that, Sam, but better to rest easy. Since I doubt you're pregnant, we'll forgo a blood test, and simply check if HCG is present. If it is, we'll check the extent at that juncture."

Sam made her way over to the bathroom, glad that she had not gone long enough for the test to be possible, and completed the process. In the bathroom, her head spun. What if she was actually pregnant? What if they were going to have...have a baby? What would that mean, for the both of them? Sam couldn't go there now, she decided as she washed her hands, because if she was actually expecting, she intended to go through with it, consequences be damned. She would have to talk to Jake about it, and God himself only knew what he was thinking right this second. As he walked out of the bathroom, she realized, deep inside herself that this was all for naught. She was no more pregnant than she was last month. She could feel it in her bones.

Sam felt awkward and silly for even bothering to take the test, but squared her shoulders and made her way back to the exam room to find Jake alone and Dr. Hull gone, while a nurse ran the test for her. Jake just passed her the book. His face said they'd talk later, when they were alone. She could think of no better offer of support, not really, but her mind couldn't slow. Still, she didn't want to talk about this here, even though his opinion about the situation matched hers, if their previous discussions were anything to go by. Dr. Hull came back after a short time, in which Sam read the same sentence seventeen times, and replied, "Your test was negative, folks. But since you're here, Sam, what do you say we take care of your yearly? Jake, I'm certain your book will entertain you in the waiting room, unless your wife wants you here, that is."

Sam shook her head, and he kissed her head as he slipped out of the door with the book, when Dr. Hull's back was turned. As she turned around and asked Sam if she was ready, Sam cleared her throat, "Yes. I'm ready." She just wasn't sure what question she was answering, the one the doctor voiced, or the one her heart was screaming.

After a few weeks at the Three Ponies, Declan came downstairs to find four people sitting at the dining room table. Jen, Darrell, Sam and Jake were pouring over files and making lists, it seemed, even though conversation stalled when he entered the room.

Jen spoke, "Oh, hey, Declan."

All the others bid him good morning.

Jen continued, "We're just looking over the final group of HARP kids for this year and making sure things are set. We're hoping to have a good group."

"Yeah, unlike the one who thought Sammy girl her batted for the other team..." Darrell spoke.

Sam spluttered, "Hey, he turned out to be a good kid!"

Deck goggled, "What, now you've got to tell me the story."

So Darrell did, and it was great. Jake glowered, though, at his friends, when Darrell's story became slightly exaggerated. There was absolutely no way that Jake had ever initiated a kiss at dinner, in front of their entire family. There was just no way that they'd done that, and everyone laughed when Jake glared. It was clearly in good fun, and the four set off to a day of work, interspersed with humor and good fun.

One night, though, Declan realized something important about how different Sam and Jake were at home, in their comfort zones. Sam, Jake, Quinn, and Deck were sitting at the kitchen table. Quinn said, "I want ice cream."

No one answered him. Sam continued reading her book as Jake worked on some feed order or something. There was a catalog involved, anyway.

"I repeat: ice cream." He sighed, "Jake. Ice cream." Quinn demanded.

"Get it yourself." Jake replied.

"Sam, do you want ice cream?" Quinn asked.

Sam was too smart, knowing that Quinn as older than Jake, had demanded Jake go, and then when Jake wouldn't, he'd turned his sights on her, just like he'd been doing since he was five and figured it out. "I'm not getting up."

"I'm just asking." Quinn was apologetic, yet equally defensive.

She considered her options. Ice cream did sound pretty good. Gram had made some chocolate that she'd sent over with Sam when she'd spent the day with Gram, as she tried to do once or twice a week. "Oh, well. If you get it out..."

"Jake, she wants ice cream." Quinn announced.

Sam spat, "You're an ass, Quinn."

"I know, but now he has to get it." Quinn nodded self importantly.

Jake didn't even let him down easy, not even glancing away from his work. "Nope."

"Didn't you promise ice cream in your vows? See, if you were like normal people and had a wedding..." Quinn wheedled.

"Shut up, Quinn. You're just mad because there wasn't a reception." Sam returned.

"Like, hello? Chicks and an open bar?" He paused dramatically. "I repeat, Jacob. Ice. Cream."

Jake stood firm. "Nope."

Sam knew from experience they could keep it up for hours. She blew out a breath, moving the hair that had come loose and settled around her face. She brushed it back, demanding, "Will you shut up if I get it?"

Jake put a hand on her back as she stood. "Sit down, Brat." Going to the fridge, he asked "What kind, lazy?"

Quinn pondered this with great show. "Mint." He stretched the word like it sounded good to his tongue.

"God, why? Why?" She asked. "Anything but mint." Sam moaned.

"Sammy, don't tell me you still think it's made of snot?" Quinn returned.

Sam paused, and spoke mockingly. "Why?" She asked innocently, "Is that deluded?"

"Yes!" He grinned.

"Jake, am I deluded? Quinn said." She whined.

"He's deluded, too, Brat." He passed her a bowl of chocolate ice cream and returned with another three mint ones.

"Thank you, I think." She replied, sinking the spoon into her treat.

"Hm." Jake serialized his reply.

"Whoever said he wasn't a sweet talker lied. Would look at that, Deck? Smooth..." Quinn mocked.

Deck smiled widely, unable to watch silently any longer. "Is this how you always are?"

Sam replied, "No, when you're not here, they're worse."

"Brat." Jake censured.

"The truth is true!" She defended.

"But only when the moon is blue!" Quinn added, in the tones of an oft-repeated joke. He laughed, swallowing some green ice cream. "All right. We gotta be serious. Let's play water pong."

Deck expected Jake to decline, but he didn't. He and Sam shared a glance. They nodded. as one "Okay." Sam said, slowly and as sober as a judge in a dry county, "But you're going down."

"Oh, lookee there! The little lady is talking some big ol' smack!" Quinn hooted.

"It's only smack when she can't back it up. Who kicked your ass last time?" Jake asked.

Deck snorted. Sam explained with enthusiasm. "Deck, you are about to be initiated into Elydom. This is serious business. Two teams, then the winners split up and face each other til it's one on one. It'll be two rounds today, but usually it gets up to five or six. Generally, we sort by age."

"Lies! Lies!" Quinn carried the card table into the room. "She just wants to saddle me with a weak player."

"Not true!" Sam replied.

"Brat, just help me get the cups." Jake directed.

Deck watched in fascination as the well oiled machine took off. Quinn set up the table and got a measuring cup. Each matching plastic cup was filled with an exact amount of liquid. Sam stood over the job, making sure each was placed in the correct formation. She fussed over the retrieved ping pong balls, dampening half, and leaving Quinn's half dry. The cups, once set up, were surveyed by all parties.

"We gonna play, then?" Deck asked. Why was the set up taking so long?

"Hm." Sam muttered.

Soon, they began and it was nothing like Deck had ever seen. Turns were tense. When someone missed, there was booing and shouting and friendly put downs. When someone got a shot, the cup was removed and the scoring team, well, Sam and Jake congratulated one another. Quinn and Deck, while they wanted to win, didn't have a finely honed strategy like Sam and Jake did. Quinn would often whisper their plans, as though he could read them, and attempt to out play them. He went on, in a soft tone, about statistics of past games, and what had won games before, but it was to no avail. Deck was too much of a liability, being that he only played beer pong, and he never developed the skill overmuch. Sam and Jake trounced the opposing team.

When they won, Sam and Jake jumped up and down. Well, Sam did. Jake smiled smugly. Quinn wanted to punch him. Nevertheless, he scooted off to the stools placed on the side, saying to Deck. "Now the real test begins. They'll go on forever, might as well sit."

Jake asked, "Quinn, score?"

Sam replied, with a slight nod, "Deck checks."

"Hm." Jake agreed.

And with that, the room fell silent. Jake scored, and Sam moved the cup with a slight smile. She snapped a hairtie on her wrist and tied her curls up on top of her head, with one or two larger waves poking out. "She's got a two cup advantage when she plays with her hair and she knows it." Quinn said, softly.

"Why?" Deck was confused.

"My brother's weak." Quinn snorted, and eventually, his prediction came true. When the small tie could no longer hold her riotous mane, the whole thing came crashing down and Jake missed his shot. Jake, for his own wiles, was no better. When Sam lowered her torso over the table, getting ready to throw into the complex arrangement of cups, Deck noticed that Jake caught her eye and winked. "They're playing dirty, man. Don't you ref the game?" He whispered.

Quinn only smiled.

Several rounds later, they were down to a handful of cups each, tied. They blocked and served with mind numbing stubbornness. Points were squabbled over. Sam was called a brat. Jake a jerkface. There were furtive references to favors, sexual or otherwise, as well as mocking taunts. Jake lost a shot when Sam just stood back and grinned as he aimed to throw, as if she were welcoming the shot. "She totally psyched him out." Deck was amazed, but Quinn didn't seem phased or surprised by it.

Deck was mesmerized with the back and forth. They got down to one cup each. Quinn watched, eagle eyed, as Sam yawned, as though tired, and squared off to make her shot. She landed it with a hiss of joy, and threw herself at her husband with a hastily bitten off yip of joy. Deck was gobsmacked. They had bickered and fought and squabbled and not two minutes later, here they were congratulating one another on a the win and consoling each other for the loss. Sam straightened and shook her head.

Suddenly, the stair light was flicked on. "What are you kids doing up? It's nearly 1!" Luke lumbered down the steps in pajamas. He noted the game that was still set up. "Who won?"

Quinn replied, "Sammy. Jake went down in flames."

The taciturn man smiled fondly. "That'a girl."

"She's his favorite, out of all of us." Quinn noted.

His father frowned, softly. "I don't have a favorite. Sammy's just best at pong." Luke affirmed.

"Here that, boys?" Sam crowed.

"You gonna brag all night, Brat?" Jake asked as they trudged upstairs after Luke.

"You bet your hat!" Sam laughed.

This story is going to continue for roughly, another 30 chapters, or so. Please don't worry that each chapter might be the last. Trust me, I'd let you know.

You found out what "it" is. I thought I'd dropped anvil sized hints, but if Dr. Hull blindsided you, I'm sorry. More thoughts on the part of Sam and Jake will come. Let me know what you think of this update. It's two chapters combined, hence the dividers.

Please review.