When Arthur next slept, he was once again taken back to Deer Head Ranch.

The sound of Isaac's wailing suddenly filled the sitting room and kitchen, and he turned to see Eliza scooping him up into her arms. Isaac was younger than he'd been in his last dream, maybe somewhere around two and a half.

He'd gone back in time, before Hope was around yet.

When Isaac's crying and wailing didn't die down but instead grew louder, his younger self rushed into the room.

"What happened? He okay?"

"He stubbed his toe…" Eliza moaned and frowned, her eyes crinkled with remorse. "Oh, baby, don't cry!"

But he was wailing in full force, his crescent moon frown bent tight and tears streaming down his pink face.

"Oh," she closed her eyes and whimpered, bringing her hand to the far side of his face and pressing his cheek to her own. "Please don't cry, sweet baby." But before they knew it, she was starting to sob and whine right along with him.

"Sweetheart! You cryin' now too?" he said above the sound of both their wailing.

"I shoulda seen him and kept him from stubbin' his toe!"

"No! Happens to everybody! You couldn't avoid it." With his brows drawn up, he half-frowned and tisked his tongue. "Breaks my heart to see you two cryin'."

"I shouldn't be! I'm the mama, I should c-comfort him!" she hiccupped.

"Ah, hun!" he slumped his shoulders. "Quit bein' so hard on yourself. Everyone's got to now an' then."

"You never cry!" she wailed.

A bright smirk pricked both corners of his mouth, and he tried not to huff a laugh. "Well, what's that mean? You want me to?"

"No," she mumbled and sniffed. "But you just never do! And it makes me feel like I'm not an adult if I do."

He groaned and shook his head, dropping his face into his hand. "You're plenty grown up, Eliza. And I like ya just exactly the way you are. I've tried to tell you so many times…" He peeked up at her with a little grin as she continued to whimper and cry with Isaac. "Ohh, look at you two. You really are breakin' my heart." He finally shook his head. "I can't take it anymore. Here."

He came close and rolled up the sleeve of her free arm and began to gently and softly blow on her bare elbow.

Her crying stuttered and slowed as she looked down at him, standing there blowing on her elbow. The combination of the endearing sight, the sheer ridiculousness and preposterousness of the action, and the feather-light sensation on her sensitive funny bone smoothed out her breathing and sent the hint of a curve onto her mouth. And she suddenly burst into an inexplicable, uncontrollable giggle.

He smiled and blew there a few more times just to hear her laugh until he was satisfied she was okay. When he straightened, the effects from laughing were still all over her face.

"Do him, do him," she smiled, hurriedly pointing to Isaac, who was still moaning and crying with a tight frown and pouted bottom lip.

He quickly came over, rolled up Isaac's little sleeve, and began to blow on his elbow.

Isaac paused and looked at him, which caused his mother to let out another laugh.

Isaac immediately belted out a cackle, and his parents laughed and smiled with him as his tears began to dry.

"Where did you learn to do that? That it works?" Eliza smiled up at him as he straightened.

He shrugged and mumbled. "Just now," he chuckled airily, rubbing his neck. "I don't know, just felt right."

She grinned. "You got more father in you than you know."

He smirked a bit bashfully, then reached out and took her hand. "Hey, I don't want you to ever be nervous about bein' anything but yourself around me, all right? I don't want anyone but exactly who you are."

Her smile slowly brightened. "More father…and more husband."

Later that morning when they were all sitting down to breakfast, Isaac munched on a piece of strawberry. He was still small enough to fit in his little cubby chair that Arthur had fashioned for him in reality.

As Eliza finished bringing her own plate of food to the table beside Arthur and went back to the counter to retrieve the percolator of coffee, Isaac pointed to each of them.

"P-piwate mommy, and piwate daddy," he said.

"What's that make you, my pirate baby?" Arthur said past the piece of toast he was munching.

Isaac's face immediately relaxed into a smile. "Yeah."

Arthur grinned and chuckled airily through his nose as he reached over and ruffled his blonde hair. "He's a bit young for Treasure Island, ain't he?" he mumbled.

Instead of a reply, he heard the sounds of dishes clanking and cupboard doors creaking shut in the kitchen behind him. He turned to see Eliza hurrying about the kitchen in a flurry, mumbling to herself.

He got up and came over. "What's goin' on?"

"I had it… I had it on…just this mornin'. Oh." She ducked to look in a lower cabinet.

"Had what on?" By her hurried movements, he could tell she was in a near panic.

She straightened, but didn't spend time looking at him as she continued about the kitchen. "My wedding ring," she said quietly with a sniff. "I lost it."

He immediately stilled and looked down, going into his vest pocket. "No, you didn't," he said as he stood shoulder to shoulder with her and held it out before her. "Just a silly little prank," he smirked. "You took it off to put balm on your hands this mornin'. And I snagged it while you weren't lookin'."

He expected a demure laugh and a light smack on the arm but didn't receive either. She immediately took it from him and slipped it on her left ring finger with a deep breath. He dipped his head to see her face had been reddening, a vein rising on her forehead, and her breathing ragged. He'd felt bad before about having sent her into a frenzy to look for it, but now that he could see just how serious she'd been about it, he felt even worse. He almost wished she'd hit him instead.

"Oh, sweetheart," he tisked his tongue. "Only meant it as a little tease."

"No, I know," she nodded, looking up at him with a little smile, her eyes just barely glistening. "It was a good one," she chuckled, biting her lip. "Just…glad to have it back, is all."

"You are an ass, kid," Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Lucky you found someone willin' to put up with your silly shit."

His younger self brought his arm around her and kissed her temple. "Just about ready to go?" he asked quietly.

She nodded with a smile.

He went outside and pulled the wagon up to the front porch, and she got up into the seat beside him with Isaac. The birds warbled and the butterflies fluttered in the air as he took them across the creek, past the forest down a country path for several miles until they reached a wide pasture edged with a few trees. The distant sound of music filled their ears as they hopped down from the wagon. Eliza carried Isaac perched on her hip as they walked through the tall grass in the direction of the music.

"Gonna join us this time?" she asked. When she saw him begin to shake his head, she spoke more quickly. "I really think you might like it. There's barbecue, and ice cream…"

Watching the ground as he walked, he just grinned and shook his head with a chuckle.

"You don't make any less of a spectacle of yourself by standing off under a tree, you know," she smirked.

He stopped and kissed her on the cheek. And as he drew away, he watched her eyes follow him. "Have fun," he said with a smile and began walking towards his tree.

She set Isaac on the ground beside her, and they walked hand-in-hand towards Misty Willow's twice-a-year ice cream social a few hundred yards away. The town had set down a make-shift dance floor made of pine boards, and the band was playing their fiddles, banjos, guitars, and harmonicas—tapping their feet to their own lively music where they sat on nearby crates as people joined in the dancing.

"Red Prairie Dawn," The Jakob's Ferry Stragglers

youtu . be /tjKkKVL_oqA

When Eliza reached the dance floor, she immediately removed her boots and left them near a pile of other boots on the side.

"Eliza! Come on, Eliza! Dance with us!" the other young women beckoned to her.

And she rushed towards them barefoot, picking up her skirt with one hand, linking arms and clapping.

As his mother spun and whirled about the dance floor with the other young women, Isaac looked in consternation at the pile of boots. He walked over and squatted to see every one of the ladies were barefoot.

"Soos, Mama! Soos!" he pointed at their feet With his little index finger. He went back to the pile of boots, but he'd forgotten which pair were his mother's. And he set about picking up each one.

Meanwhile, his father was smiling at the scene from underneath the brim of his hat, where he stood leaning with his back against the oak tree.

He watched his wife twirl and spin, the skirt of her gown fanning out around her. She clapped her hands in time to the music with a carefree look of elation and glee plastered all over her sweet, beautiful face, and her golden hair swinging behind her. He wore a warm grin as she bounced and flitted across the dance floor—a barefoot angel set against a bright blue sky, glowing and laughing vibrantly, just oozing with joy.

He noticed a young man come up to her and offer a hand, asking her to dance with him. With a gracious smile, she shook her head and held her left hand up to her chest, making sure to give a good flash of her wedding ring.

He watched Isaac slowly climb atop a crate to closely inspect one of the band member's banjo strings. Sitting on his little knees, he peered intently with scrunched brows at the strings and watched them vibrate with each quick pluck, pondering the unique sounds they made. He slowly reached out to touch the vibrating strings and looked up at the banjoist's face when he did, though his touch didn't mean a thing for the music.

Isaac had crawled up just in time for the song to have arrived at the banjoist's solo, so everyone was turned to watch him play. He plucked feverishly and passionately, his tongue sticking out over the side of his chin, and his foot tapping wildly. And when he was finally finished, he seamlessly reached out and pinched the side of Isaac's belly, to which Isaac's stern look of concentration immediately melted into a bright smile as he whipped his head back and giggled, causing everyone to laugh and clap.

His father couldn't help but smile and laugh right along with them where he stood against the tree.

After the final flourish of music, Eliza caught her breath and put her boots back on. She scooped her son up and went to get a bowl of ice cream from the nearby potluck table. She sat with Isaac on her thigh and fed him a spoonful. His eyes quickly went wide, and he reached out for the spoon when she tried to take a bite herself. She laughed and dotted him on the nose with the ice cream. He smiled but was undeterred, still requiring another bite.

When she wiped his nose and he finally got another bite, his father watched him smile up at her, the word daddy forming on his little mouth.

She said something in return with a nod and looked over in Arthur's direction with a soft smile as their gazes connected. She stood with Isaac on her hip and walked towards him with the bowl in her other hand.

"He wanted to be sure his daddy got some," she grinned as she handed him the bowl and spoon. "It's strawberry."

He took it and quickly ate the last bite, nodding to Isaac with a grin and an, "Mmm. Thanks, bubba," as he tossed the bowl and spoon on the grass.

Then his eyes slid to hers, and without a word, he threaded his arms underneath hers, wrapping her by the small of her back and bringing her close so that their waists were flush together as he leaned back against the tree.

He looked down into her face with heavily lidded eyes and a soft grin as they stood like that for just a little while, and he finally leaned down to kiss her slowly and tenderly.

As he straightened off the tree, he brushed the back of his fingers to her cheek and kissed her again as he took her hand in his. "Come on," he smiled. "Let's get you home."

And as he watched them walk towards the wagon, Arthur somehow knew without having to be told. He knew that was it—the day they conceived Hope.

When he blinked again, he was standing in their bedroom in the middle of the night some weeks later, draped in shadow and moonlight.

The two of them were lying in bed, dressed in their nightclothes. Eliza was asleep on her back, her face turned towards him and her cheek on the pillow, and his younger self was dozing belly-down beside her with his cheek resting on her right breast and his arm draped over her chest. She had her arms curled up over his outstretched arm, her hands resting atop his upper arm and shoulder.

Arthur smirked softly and rubbed his chin at the sight of their position, slumbering peacefully, almost like children. "Peas in a pod, you two are."

And all of a sudden, a gurgling noise bubbled up through her chest as she woke with a start and hurried to climb out of bed, running to a nearby wastebasket. She bent and vomited into it, holding her hair back with one hand.

When she straightened and saw that she'd woken her husband, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"You all right?" he groggily rubbed his eye.

"Ugh…" she pressed her fingers to her mouth and grimaced. "I'm burping pure acid." She swiped her hair back from her eyes. "I didn't even think what we ate for supper had any acid."

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her. "You ain't had your monthly this cycle yet. Have you?"

She paused and looked up at him. "Well…no. But…how'd you know that?"

He smirked. "I know everything there is to know about you, Morgan."

She matched his airy chuckle as she stood looking at him in the dim moonlight. "You…you really think so?"

His grin widened. "I know so."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded. He watched her look down and bring a hand to her abdomen. "It's what we been hopin' for."

She slowly looked up at him with a bright smile. "Yeah," she whispered as she came back to bed, pulling her feet up and under the covers. She planted a kiss on his lips before ducking her head under his chin, pressing her cheek to his barrel chest, and wrapping her arms around his midsection as he brought his big hands to her back.

And again, when Arthur blinked, he knew without needing to be told that it was a night a couple months later, though it was another scene of the two of them on the bed in the bedroom.

The kerosene lamp filled the room with a warm glow. His younger self was sitting back against the headboard in his long johns, and Eliza was facing him, propped up by her knees with a thigh on each side of his lap.

She'd hiked up her white nightgown past her abdomen, and they were both gazing down at her belly—still small, but growing in a teardrop shape, making it obvious someone was there.

She ran her hand across her belly, and his palm quickly followed behind hers. But he brought his hands across a couple more times, down over the front and across the side.

He finally leaned forward and kissed her belly, here and there, once, twice, three times and more—the sweet, quiet smacking sound of each kiss growing her smile even wider.

She closed her eyes a moment and rested her hand in his hair, savoring the feeling of each wonderful kiss. When he drew away and sat back against the headboard again, she came close and rested a hand on each of his cheeks as she kissed his mouth.

She finally withdrew her thigh from around him, dropping the hem of her nightgown as she sank to lie down on the bed beside him with her head propped up on the pillows.

"Gabriel, Caleb, Nathan, Noah, Jonathan, Daniel, Aaron, Benjamin…Samuel…" she said quietly, taking a breath.

"And those are all…Biblical names?"

She looked up at him with a demure grin. "Yes…"

He nodded.

"But there's also…Brett, Wyatt, Todd, Dylan…" she counted on her fingers. "That one's an old Welsh name."

"And what if…it's a girl?"

Her eyes popped up to him again, a tiny, incredulous grin working its way onto her mouth. "You'd like a girl?"

A grin flourished on his face, and he leaned over close, his voice warm and quiet, his words slow and measured. "Give me a little girl…just like you." As her smile brightened and she bit her lip, he quickly planted a kiss on her lips and sat up straight again. "What about your mama's name?"

"Hope?" When he nodded, she nodded with him and smiled.

"I know you always wanted to name your first kids after 'em, to honor 'em."

"And Beatrice for her middle name, after yours?"

He smiled with a soft nod. "That'd be real fine."

As he turned and brought the journal sitting atop the nightstand on his side of the bed into his lap, she asked, "How do you think Isaac'll take it?"

"Don't know," he mumbled lightly as he opened the journal and took out his pencil. "I never had any blood siblings. Got a kid brother, you've seen him," he chuckled, looking up briefly. "And no matter what happens in life, what we say or do, he'll always be my brother." He looked back down at the journal. "I imagine he'll be just fine, 'specially if we find the right words to tell 'im."

He started scribbling in the journal, and he looked forward from the page as if contemplating what else to jot down.

"He's got a new tooth. Found it today."

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "A molar."

With a grin, he handed her the journal and pencil.

And Arthur's eyes slowly went wide where he stood watching. "You're just…you're just gonna hand her the journal like that?"

She reached for her little reading glasses on her nightstand and took the journal, looking at the page it was open to.

Standing near the bed, Arthur looked over her shoulder to see what his younger self had written:

Eliza's belly is growing each day. Ain't terribly big yet, by any means. But when it's just her and me, and we can look at her bare belly, we can sure tell now—there's a bitty baby in there. We're both real excited. Can't wait to feel the little one move, like we did with Isaac.

She grinned softly before picking right up on the same line with:

Found Isaac's newest tooth today. A lovely little molar. He's working on a full set of baby teeth. Before we know it, he won't be a baby anymore. But he'll always be 'my baby.' Looking more and more like his daddy all the time.

She smiled at the sight of both their handwriting together on the page, and on pages past. It made each entry look like a beautiful patchwork, almost like a darling quilt.

Flipping backwards through the leather-bound book, she caught glimpses dotted throughout of Arthur's gorgeous sketches of their life together—wilderness landscapes, wildlife, domestic farm animals, numerous portraits of Isaac and herself, even a composite self-portrait of the three of them together. And when she made it to the front, she saw the words penciled in Arthur's flowing script on the very first page:

Arthur & Eliza's Journal

Slowly and carefully, she ran her fingertips over the words.

"I'll be damned…" Arthur breathed nearby. "Eliza honey, you don't know just how privileged you are."

Taking her reading glasses off and setting them back on the nightstand, she handed the journal back to him. She watched him take it and go back to scribbling. And she looked down, fiddling with a crease in her white cotton nightgown.

"Arthur?" she whispered quietly, her chin resting on her chest.

"Hm," he said, still writing.

"And what if…" She was unable to look up at him as he turned his head to face her. "What if I lose the baby?" By the time she spoke the last word, her voice was so quiet, it had been reduced to a hardly a breath. When she finally looked up at him, her frown was pulled so tight, and it seemed painful for her to swallow. Her eyes were glistening, but not a tear fell.

"Well, get in there, and hold her!" Arthur demanded, his expression something near appalled as he looked at her husband and quickly gestured to her.

"Addie…Addie said it could happen. To anybody," she finally whispered.

"It ain't gonna happen," he replied simply, his voice calm and even as he closed the journal.

"But what if it does?"

"It ain't."

"But what if it does?" she sniffed and glanced down at the fabric of her nightgown between her fingers, her head still propped up on the pillows. But as her chin trembled, she forced herself to look back up at his face above her where he sat against the headboard beside her.

As he stood nearby watching Eliza bare her heart to her husband, Arthur could clearly see the worried question in her eyes; and the understanding registered at the very same moment for his younger self.

That if he hadn't married her for her body, then surely he'd done so for the baby. And she was terrified that if she lost this one, he would leave her.

Her husband's face crumpled as he lowered himself to lie down beside her, coming close and bringing his arm over her chest.

"Amateur," Arthur quipped, rolling his eyes with a half-smirk.

"It ain't gonna happen. All right? And even if it does…" he shook his head. "I ain't goin' anywhere. I ain't. I couldn't ever…" He swallowed, forcing himself to try to find the words as he hovered over her.

"Just say it, you dolt. Say it!" Arthur shouted, motioning as though he were going to tear his own hair out.

"There ain't anybody else in this world…" he gently shook his head. "You… I… I…"

She was calm and quiet as her big eyes looked back and forth into his.

"You're doin' real good, buddy!" Arthur said with a big, sarcastic grin and wide, expectant eyes.

His younger self finally sighed and reached for the journal on the other side of his thigh, picking up the pencil and writing something.

Arthur threw his head back and groaned boisterously. But he had to stop himself. "Well, if you don't do it three years from now, you probably didn't do it now, did ya?"

He grimaced and shook his head with a bitter half-frown. "Got a beautiful kid, another on the way. She loves you with everything she's got in her," he gestured to Eliza, who was intently watching her husband scribble. "And you've got a shared journal with her, for chrissakes! Never in my life have I thought about doin' such a thing with another person. You know you're so goddamn solid gone for her, you can't even see straight. But you can't say it. And she suffers for it."

He sighed and brought his fingers up to rub his temple. "You're just a sorry, broken, dumb bastard, is what you are. Hell, if I had what you got—" he started to say in anger. But he quickly caught himself and swallowed his words.

His younger self finished what he'd written and held the journal out to her. Arthur peeked over her shoulder to read with her the writing in his own sprawling hand:

I will never ever leave you, Eliza. Never. I don't want you to ever worry about that. I'll never choose to walk away or let you be alone. I made a vow to you. No one else. Because I wanted to. And nothing will ever, ever make me leave you. Ever.

He'd made it a part of the day's journal entry, cemented there forever.

She shifted only her gaze to look up at him, her expression still calm and unchanged.

He came close, his chest resting partially atop hers, and brought his hand to the side of her face so he could gently rub his thumb back and forth across her smooth cheek.

And as she looked back into his brilliant blue-green eyes, she brought her hand up to run her fingers through the hair dangling softly at his forehead.

"Well, at least tell me you know when to make love to her and when to just hold her," Arthur drawled in a fed-up tone, letting his head bob loosely and grabbing his belt.

He finally brought his lips softly to her cheek. He leaned forward further to press his cheek to hers and tuck his chin into the crook of her neck as he brought his arms around her.

"Ah, so you do," Arthur grinned with satisfaction.

He watched her bring her hand to the back of his neck and close her eyes, soaking in the touch and the nearness of him.

And his grin quickly melted away. Because he knew it without a doubt: "She'll wait for you. Bless her, it might take a whole lifetime. But she'll wait for you to get there."