Set at the end of season five, "Forget Me Not" serves as a continuation of episode 162, "End of the Hunt," and episode 167, "Which Way'd They Go?"
Scenes from "Which Way'd They Go?" are written into this story, while events from "End of the Hunt" are merely mentioned. It is suggested that readers watch "End of the Hunt" before reading this story so that they have a better understanding of the circumstances leading up to this narrative. This episode has been uploaded to the "FilmRise" channel on YouTube.

When working with pre-written scenes, an author is bound to follow what has already been established. That being said, I wanted to note that there was a mistake made by the writers of "Which Way'd They Go?" that had to be included in this story. I'd like to chalk it up to Lucas being hit on the head too hard. Can you spot the plot hole?

Trigger warning: This story depicts a minor being put in physically and mentally abusive, violent, and traumatic situations. Reader discretion is advised.

Forget Me Not

Lucas and Mark McCain stood on the Jackman's former porch, watching as Neb and his three sons slowly loaded up their wagon with the last of their belongings.

"We sure are sorry to see you leave, Neb," Lucas offered.

"You ain't more sorry than I am, Lucas."

"We all have to pay taxes, you know that."

Just then, one of Neb's son's walked up between the two, a large book in hand. "According to section seven, paragraph six of the territorial tax laws, payment on land taxes is required. On a-"

Neb suddenly reached out, slamming the book shut. "Who's side are you on, Moss?!"

Moss looked up at his pa, then glanced at Lucas before walking away.

"It ain't our fault we ain't got no money!"

"All you needed was just one crop this year, Mr. Jackman," Mark commented.

"We had a crop, doggone it! Corn!"

"Corn," Neb's second son, Bo, echoed, stepping off the porch as his other brother came out behind him.

"That's right! Haslam here, he planted the seed himself, put 'em in the ground, didn't ya, Haslam? ...Haslam?"

Haslam just kept on walking, oblivious to his pa's question.

"Doggone it, Haslam!" the man exclaimed, hitting his son with his hat. "Has, don't-"

"Huh? ...Yeah Pa?"

"I had it all figured out! Haslam for the plantin', Bo for the pickin' and Moss for the shuckin'."

"You got it wrong, Pa," Moss declared. Bo the shuckin', me the pickin', Haslam-"

"Nuh-uh," Haslam interrupted. "Bo the shuckin', me the storin'..."

"Correction, correction!" Bo began, climbing into the wagon. "Like Pa said, me the waterin', Moss the pickin'!"

At that moment, all three sons began talking at once, informing the others about who was supposed to have done what.

"Wait a minute... hold on, doggone it!" Neb yelled. "Now, Haslam, Son. You recollect them seed bags leanin' again' the barn?"

"Seed bags... with the seeds in 'em?"

"Them the ones. Now did you or did you not plant that seed like you was supposed to?"

"I thought they was for feedin' the chickins!"

"You mean I been waterin' plain ol' dirt?" Bo incredulously asked.

"And I been waitin' to pick somethin' that ain't never been in the ground?!" Moss declared.

"...We had the chickens, they was good!"

"Neb, maybe you and the boys just weren't cut out to be farmers," Lucas stated. "Maybe now that you're leaving North Fork, you'll find another town you can settle in and try something else."

"You know, Lucas, that's just been what I been-a thinkin'. We might even have to get ourselves a job!"

Moss quickly turned back to his book, concerned by the prospect. "According to the latest territorial unemployment figures, job opportunities-"

"A job?!" Bo exclaimed. "Doin' what, Pa?"

"How do I know doin' what? We gotta find out what's to do, first."

"Well, whatever it is, Neb, we wish you a lot of luck."

"Thank you, Lucas. Thank you kindly."

Several months later, Lucas had arranged to buy more cattle for their herd. With school still in session, the rancher decided to leave his son at home while he took the trip down south; a decision that had received a fair amount of debate. The day he was to leave, Lucas spent several hours making preparations and had just finished tying down his bedroll on Razor when Mark came riding into the yard.

"Hello, Son," he greeted.

"Uh, Pa, you all set to go?"

"All set, just waiting for you to get home from school."

"Oh, as I was riding through town, Micah asked me to give this to you." Mark pulled a telegram from his shirt pocket and handed it to his pa as he went on, "It's from the U.S. marshal at Lordsburg. Seems Stack Wade and his gang of bank robbers broke out of prison down there last night."

"Oh?" Lucas asked, unfolding the wire to read it. "Believed headed for Colorado border. Alerting all towns northeast of Lordsburg. Request you dispatch rider to Paradise to warn people as they… as they have no sheriff or telegraph station."

"Well, Micah said as long as you were goin' down that way to buy cattle you could- you could do this."

"Well I don't see why not, I oughta be there by tomorrow." Lucas tucked the paper inside his shirt pocket before looking up at Mark. "Look, Son, you get the chores done here at the ranch and then get on into town. Lou's waiting for you at the hotel."

"Alright, Pa."

The rancher walked towards his horse and started to mount up. "I'll be back in about five days or so."

"See you then, Pa."

Mark watched as his pa rode away before turning to BlueBoy. He let the horse out in the corral, then set to his chores around the homestead.

It was almost seven o'clock when Mark walked out of the cabin one last time that evening. He again saddled BlueBoy and hung his carpetbag over the pommel before mounting up and heading into town.

"Well, I say it's about time ya got 'ere," Lou greeted as Mark walked into the hotel. "I was stratin' ta worry."

"I got busy at the ranch and figured I better clean up before I tracked all sorts of mud and dirt in here."

"I certainly won't complain about that. Have ya eaten?"

"No, I sorta lost track of time."

"Well put your things up in room five and then get what ya want from the kitchen. There's plenty of stew left over."

"Thanks, Lou."

"And your father said to remind ya to do your homework before anythin' else."

"I know, I did it before I left the ranch. That's part of what took me so long."

"Well, ya must have somethin' planned for this evenin' in that case."

"I'm going to head over to the livery for a while after I eat."

"Nils still up on ya?"

"Two games. But I'm gonna beat him this time!"

Lou gently laughed as she walked back to the desk. "Just be back before I lock up at eleven."

"I will."

After putting his carpetbag in his room, Mark made his way down to the kitchen. He ate and talked with Alice as she washed dishes, then headed to the livery with BlueBoy.

"Nils?"

The blacksmith looked up from the forge and greeted the young man. "Howdy, Mark. Let me finish this up and I'll be ready for ya. You can go ahead and bed your horse down if you want."

"Thanks."

"You hear about the jail break down in Lordsburg?"

"Yeah, Micah asked pa to ride through Paradise to warn the folks there. They don't have a telegraph office or sheriff or nothin'. I don't see how anyone would be crazy enough to live there."

"Certainly no place I would want to live. I hear they got some strange folk in that town."

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "I reckon we'd be just as strange to them as they are to us."

Nils laughed. "Just you wait till your pa gets back, he'll have quite the story for you."

"He's only riding through."

"Just trust me."

Mark finished putting BlueBoy in a stall before setting up the checkers board. The first game progressed quickly until Nils suddenly found himself in a less-than-desirable position. He studied the board for a few moments longer, then looked up at Mark.

"...You've been practicing."

"I was getting tired of losing."

The blacksmith let out a short chuckle before finally moving one of his pieces. "Alright… go ahead…"

Mark jumped two of the man's pieces, gaining another king, which eventually allowed him to win the round. One game turned into four before Nils finally called it a night.

"What, I don't get a chance for revenge?" Mark asked.

"We've tied it up, you can beat me another time," Nils laughed. "I have a few things to finish before I turn in. Stop by tomorrow night and maybe we can play again."

"Sounds good. I'll be seeing you."

Mark left the livery and headed down the street, noticing the light in the jail. He hesitated and checked his pocket watch before making his way towards the marshal's office.

"Hey, Micah."

"Mark," the marshal greeted. "You get that note to your pa before he left?"

"Yep, he said he'd be there by tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"You think they're going to catch that gang?"

"Eventually someone will. But with Stack Wade and his men, I have a feeling it'll be later rather than sooner."

"I remember the stir it caused when they finally caught up to them the first time. You know how they escaped?"

"Everything I know was in that telegram I gave to your pa. I'm sure whoever it was that's responsible is going to be looking for a new job real soon."

"Yeah," Mark replied, shaking his head. "Though I'm not really sure who would want that kind of a job in the first place."

"Puts money in your pocket just like any other. Man's gotta work to eat. ...Speaking of eating, what are you doing Sunday?"

"Well after church I gotta do chores out at the ranch, but that's it. Why?"

"I can get someone to watch the office. What do you say you and me see if we can't catch ourselves some trout down at Miller's Pond?"

"Sounds good to me! I should be back in town by three."

"Good." Micah stood from his desk and retrieved his shotgun from the rack behind him. "I've gotta do the rounds and you should probably get on back to the hotel. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Micah."

Lucas woke the next morning with a pounding headache. He sat up as he rubbed his forehead, feeling the bump underneath his skin. Confused, the rancher looked around the small camp, suddenly realizing that Razor was missing.

Lucas strode to where he had left his horse the previous night before scouring the ground for tracks. Finding three or four sets of boot prints, he sighed in frustration and continued to follow the trail out to the main road.

After walking for several hours, Lucas heard a rig coming up behind him. He stopped and flagged down the driver, waiting for the man to slow the team.

"Hey, Mister? You headin' toward Paradise?"

At the driver's invitation, Lucas climbed up into the wagon before the man urged his team on again.

"What happened to you?"

"Slept too good," Lucas answered in frustration, again rubbing his head.

"Huh?"

"Somebody snuck into my camp last night and gave me a good knock on my head before taking my horse."

"Oh," the man chuckled.

"I don't really find it a laughing matter."

"What're you doing out here anyway? Not the friendliest part of the territory."

"I'm supposed to be buying cattle."

"Well there certainly ain't none in Paradise, I can tell you that!"

"The stock is another few hours south of there. I have a message to deliver, and hopefully someone will be willing to sell me a horse."

The man let out a long bout of laughter. "Good luck with that!"

The hours passed, morning turning to afternoon and afternoon to evening as the wagon continued to bounce down the road, only adding to the pain in the rancher's head. They drove through most of the night, only stopping for a few hours and then setting out again before sunrise the next morning.

At long last Paradise came into view, the wagon rounding the corner of the main road as Neb Jackman stepped out onto the boardwalk.

"Neb!" Confused, Lucas jumped down from the wagon and approached the man. "...Neb Jackman?"

"Hello, Lucas! What you doing here?"

"I'm looking for the sheriff of Paradise…" As Lucas answered, he turned his head to see several unconscious men lying on the road.

"That's me!"

The rancher turned and stared at the man as Neb let out a giddy chuckle. Again, Lucas looked at the men scattered on the street. "...That's Stack Wade and his men?"

"That's them!" Neb laughed.

"I'll be…" Lucas stopped as he turned to see that a frown had suddenly fallen over Jackman's face. "...Somethin' the matter, Neb?"

"No, Lucas… I just been a thinking…" The sheriff shifted his gaze up towards the tall rancher. "It was me that was supposed to plant that corn seed."

"No, Pa!"

Lucas turned to see Moss walking their way as he started going on about who was supposed to have done the picking and planting on the farm they had lost. Neb jumped right back in to correct his son, insisting it was the other way around. The rancher stood there for a moment, exhausted by the men's arguing.

"Hold on just a minute," he finally interrupted. Both men looked to Lucas and waited for him to go on. "Don't you think you should get Wade and his men locked up before they come around?"

Neb suddenly pushed his son out into the street. "Moss, what you just standing there for?! After all we done, we can't let 'em get away! And-" Neb stopped short, grabbing Lucas's arm. "Lucas, you best have a mighty good reason for giving Stack Wade a horse!"

"Giving him a…" Lucas turned to where Jackman was pointing, relieved to see Razor tethered to the hitching post. "Neb, they stole my horse! Just how did you end up here? And with a badge no less?"

"Like I says when we left the farm, we had to get ourselves a job. We spent months a-lookin' and were just 'bout ready to give up all together! Then there was this town and they be needin' a sheriff… so here's we are!"

Lucas shook his head in disbelief, suddenly turning at the sound of Moss grunting as he tried to drag Stack Wade towards the jail. "...Why don't you tell me what happened here while I help you get them locked up?"

"Now wait a minute, you're not figuring on tryin' to get the re-ward, are you? 'Cause that money's ours- fair and square!"

"No, Neb," he sighed. "It's all yours…"

"Mark, are ya sure you've gotten enough to eat?"

"I don't think I could eat another bite. Thanks, Lou."

"Well I sure wasn't goin' ta let ya go off without eatin' something!"

Mark stood and pushed in his chair as he turned to Micah. "I didn't get everything done yesterday, so I might be a little later than I thought."

"Do you need any help?"

"It's nothing I can't handle. I just had to chase a few steers down yesterday afternoon and then I found a break in the fence I couldn't finish fixing before dark. You want me to meet you at Miller's Pond instead?"

"Sure. You just be careful out there."

"I know, I will. Thanks again for lunch, Lou."

"You two catch enough fish I'll fry it up for a late supper."

"Sounds good. See you in a while, Micah."

Mark headed out the back door of the hotel and made his way to the livery to get BlueBoy. The horse happily greeted his master, and before long, the two were on their way to the ranch. Mark rode into the yard nearly an hour later and dismounted in front of the house. He bounded up the porch steps and hurried inside; a voice stopping him in his tracks.

"Well, hello there."

Mark looked up to see a man sitting at the kitchen table; his wild blue eyes staring back at him. The figure nervously wrung his hands, alternately tapping his boots on the floor. Part of Mark felt the urge to turn around and race back to town, but there was something strangely familiar about the man that persuaded him to stay.

"Who… who are you?"

"Who am I?" The man gave an agitated laugh as he stood from the table, his hand repeatedly caressing the handle of his holstered gun. "I suppose you were a… well, a mite young." He began stiffly pacing from one end of the room to the other as he went on, "...But then again, I… I figured Luke woulda… woulda made sure you knew all about me. ...You… you are Lucas McCain's son, aren't you?"

Mark eyed the man curiously, still trying to place his haggard face. "...How do you know my pa?"

"That doesn't matter. It… it doesn't matter! ...I'm sorry you… you had to get caught up in all this… but your pa wouldn't help me. You… you have to understand, he wouldn't help me!" The man suddenly lunged forward, taking the youth by his arms and shaking him. "I came to him for help! He's driven me to this, you see! It has to be this way!"

Mark desperately attempted to pull himself from the man's crushing grasp before he was suddenly thrown to the ground. The boy's heart pounded as he turned onto his back, swallowing hard as he found himself staring down the barrel of the man's gun.

"Please!"

"I'm sorry," he cried, his hands shaking as he pulled back the hammer. "I don't want to do this; it's… it's the only way he'll come after me! He made me, don't you see?! He made me!"

"NO!"