The days passed, Mark regaining little strength. It frustrated Lucas to see his son in such pain, but he understood why the doctor gave him such little medication.

Lucas would spend the mornings with his son before riding out to the ranch to check the cattle. When he returned to town, Lou would have supper waiting for him to take back to Doc's. He would spend the rest of the evening by his son's side, sometimes talking, more often than not, reading. Nights were the most difficult as Mark often aggravated his injuries by thrashing around in his sleep. And no matter how many times his father insisted that everything was alright, Mark couldn't shake the feeling that something was still terribly wrong.

Early one morning, Burrage returned to his office to find Lucas waiting for him in the front room.

"Lucas? How's Mark this morning?"

"Exhausted. Doc, something has to change. He's still not sleeping through the night. Between the pain and lack of sleep… it's wearing on him, I can see it."

The doctor nodded in agreement. "...I was hoping he would be doing a little better before you took him home, but… perhaps it's time."

"Take him home? Is that a good idea?"

"I think he might be more comfortable there… and having people coming in and out of this office all day certainly isn't doing him any favors. Why don't you bring the buckboard back this afternoon when you go to the ranch?"

"What if he gets worse? What if an infection sets in?"

"Then you can always bring him back. But I think we're past most of those concerns. Just keep him in bed, or at the most, sitting up in the front room. Make sure he gets plenty to eat… keep the bandages clean and dry. I'll be out every few days to check on him."

That evening, Lucas brought the team to a stop beside the front porch. He jumped down from the buckboard and made his way around to the other side, then helped Mark down from the rig. As they walked inside, Lucas asked if Mark wanted to go to bed or sit up in the front room until dinner.

"In here's fine. Really, Pa... I'm alright. You don't need to-" The young man attempted to take a step forward without Lucas's assistance and nearly fell; his pa catching him.

"You were saying?"

"...Guess I'm a little more lightheaded than I thought."

Lucas helped Mark to the chair by the fire and made sure he was comfortable before turning back towards the door. "I'm going to take care of the team, I won't be long."

"Alright."

As the door shut behind his pa, Mark looked around the cabin. He had hoped that coming back home would give him something to remember about the day he had been shot, but he still felt as though he were staring down a dark, empty well.

Lucas returned to the house a few minutes later to find Mark rubbing his head. "You alright, Son?"

"...What?" Suddenly realizing what he was doing, Mark nodded as he continued to rub his temple. "I'm fine… just all that... bouncing in the buckboard."

"How's your shoulder feeling?"

"The same."

"Doc Burrage said you could take a little of the laudanum when we got home."

"...I'd rather wait… wait till we turn in. It doesn't last very long and… it makes me sleep better."

Lucas nodded in understanding before turning to start supper.

"...Pa?" Mark waited for Lucas to look at him in acknowledgment before asking, "...Did Micah ever tell you… where it happened?"

"Where what happened?"

"...Where I… I got shot."

"...He said he found you by the hearth."

"...I sure am glad he… he came out."

The words gave Lucas pause. Up to that point, he had only been angry that Micah didn't check on Mark sooner. "...Me too, Son."

When Lucas woke the next morning, he was pleased to see that Mark was still sleeping. He quietly slipped out of the house to do the morning chores before returning to start breakfast. He was just getting ready to check on his son again when a loud crash emanated from the bedroom.

"Mark?!" Lucas rushed through the door to see his son trying to get up from the floor, the washstand turned over beside him. "Mark, what are you doing?" Lucas helped him to his feet, worriedly looking him over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he answered, wincing in pain as Lucas helped him sit down on the bed. "Just stood up too long..."

"You shouldn't be standing at all! Where's your sling?"

Using his good arm, Mark gestured to the floor.

"Doc said to use it until he told you otherwise. The strain isn't good for your shoulder."

"I know, I… I was… was trying to readjust it."

Lucas shook his head as he picked up the sling. He gently put Mark's arm through it again, grimacing at the pain it caused his son.

"Mark, the time will come when you can do for yourself again, but it isn't here. Please don't try to do things on your own; you're not strong enough yet."

"...Yes sir."

"Are you up to eating?"

"I got shot, I'm not dead," Mark teased, his boyish grin fading as he saw the expression on Lucas's face. "...I'm sorry, Pa. That wasn't-"

Lucas gave a small smile. "It's alright. Things could use some lightening up around here. Come on before I burn breakfast."

Lucas helped Mark to the table before taking the skillet off the stove and serving up the eggs. "You wake up last night at all?"

"...A few times, but I think the last time was… was about three."

"Good. I'll try not to be long on the range this afternoon, but when I leave, I want your word you'll stay put."

"I will. When you…" Mark stopped, deep creases forming on his brow.

"...Son, what is it?"

"Saturday…"

"What?"

"Saturday!" Mark looked up at Lucas, a relaxed smile crossing his face. "I remember. I had breakfast at the hotel and went over to the livery for a while to help Nils with the horses. I spent the day here doing chores and then… oh, no… Pa, the-"

"I saw where you left off," Lucas assured. "I finished fixing the fence Friday."

Mark slowly shook his head, confusion again shadowing his face. "...But why wouldn't I have finished it? I… I don't remember why I stopped… I don't remember going back to town…"

"You probably ran out of daylight. When I found the fence, it looked like you had stringed off what you couldn't finish."

"But Micah said I went to the ranch Sunday to do chores…"

"...It probably happened before you had a chance to get out to the range." Seeing the confused frustration growing on Mark's face, Lucas went on. "This is good, Son. That's a lot for you to remember at one time. The rest will eventually come back."

"...I just wish I knew when that 'eventually' was going to be…"

It had been over three weeks since Mark had been shot. His pain was lessening and his strength was increasing; he could sleep through most nights without so much as stirring. ...But the memory of what had happened after he left North Fork that Sunday afternoon still escaped him. Though he tried to hide it, Lucas knew how frustrated his son was becoming with his inability to remember. He often reminded Mark that it would simply take time, but the young man found little comfort in the sentiment.

Late Tuesday night, Mark again found himself gasping for breath as he startled awake; something that hadn't happened for days. Seeing his pa asleep in his bunk, Mark relaxed, taking in a deep breath as he laid down again. ...But this time, Mark remembered. He couldn't recall anything that had happened, but he could see the face that had startled him awake. And he knew that face was more than a dream.

Mark sat up and again looked towards his pa before quietly making his way to the front room. He settled into his pa's chair as he stared into the fire, allowing his memories to take him back to Oklahoma.

Mark guessed himself to be four, maybe five, as he sat on the steps in front of his home. He was playing with the Jacob's ladder he had received for Christmas just a few months before when his mother's voice suddenly called out behind the boy, telling him it was time for bed.

"Aw, Ma, can't I wait just a little longer?"

"It's already well past your bedtime, young man. I'm sure your father decided to camp for one more evening. He'll be home tomorrow."

"I know he's coming, I just know it! Please, Ma?"

"Just a few more minutes. Then it's-"

"PA!"

Mark remembered jumping off the porch steps and running towards the two riders. He reached up, grinning from ear to ear as his pa pulled him into the saddle.

"I knew you were coming home, I knew it! I was waitin'!"

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we didn't go after that last buck."

"Lucas!"

Mark smiled as he recalled what happened next. His Pa had picked him up and put him in the other saddle before quickly dismounting. As his parents reunited, he had covered his eyes, causing the man behind him to laugh.

"They done yet, Uncle Reef?"

"No, not yet…"

Mark could see himself turning around and rolling his eyes as he looked up at his pa's best friend. It was a younger face than the one in his dream. Younger… softer… happier. But without a doubt, Mark knew it was him. What he didn't understand was why, after all these years, he was suddenly remembering a man he had completely forgotten about. ...What he didn't understand, was why that face sent a chill down his spine.

Lucas stepped out to the front room the next morning, confused to see Mark asleep in the chair. He started the coffee, then headed out to do the chores. Not long had passed when he heard his son entering the barn behind him.

"Morning, Pa."

"Morning." Lucas turned, satisfied that Mark was taking a seat on a hay bale. "What were you doing in the front room?"

"I got up last night and decided to sit by the fire for a while… didn't mean to fall asleep out there. ...How'd the meeting go last night?"

"Fine. Oh, and as I was leaving, your teacher gave me some materials for you to look over before you return to school next week."

"You know, I've already missed so much… why don't I just start back next semester?"

Lucas turned to see a teasing grin on his son's face. "Remind me to get them from my saddle bag before I head out to the range."

Mark stood and walked to BlueBoy's stall, aware of the fact that his father was watching to make sure he didn't lift anything. "...Pa, whatever happened to Uncle Reef?"

Lucas froze, thankful his son's back was towards him. Several emotions played on the rancher's face as he tried to find a way to answer the question, finally forcing himself to move again. "...It's… it's a long story. Reef… he took a turn down a dark path… and he never came back." He briefly paused before asking why Mark had raised the question. "...I'm surprised you remember him."

"Well I hadn't thought about him for a long time, but I had a dream about him last night. It was strange… it kinda left me with a funny feeling."

"...Like I said… Reef went down a dark path."

Mark turned around to see a distant look in his pa's eyes. Realizing it wasn't something his pa wanted to keep talking about, he changed the subject. "So can I ride to school on Monday?"

Lucas turned to look at his son, eyebrows raised.

"I'll go press the coffee…"

Monday morning, Miss Pritchard was preparing the last of her lessons for the day when she heard a team approaching the schoolhouse. She looked out the open door, pleased to see Mark McCain getting down from the buckboard.

"If I'm not here when school lets out, wait for me at Micah's."

"See you then, Pa."

The young man headed towards the school, removing his hat as he stepped inside. "Morning, Miss Pritchard," he greeted.

"Good morning, Mark. I'm so glad to have you back."

He stepped towards the desk, handing her several papers. "Here are the assignments you sent with Pa."

"Thank you," she answered with a smile. "Did you have any trouble?"

"No ma'am. I had plenty of time on my hands to figure it out…"

She chuckled, turning back to her desk. "Would you please start ringing the bell for me?"

"Yes ma'am."

As the morning progressed, Miss Pritchard was pleased to see that Mark didn't have any trouble following the lessons. He seemed to be well acquainted with the material and kept up with the other students his age. But as the noon hour approached, she began to notice Mark becoming more lethargic, frequently resorting to rubbing his head. Hoping some fresh air and food would help, Miss Pritchard quickly wrapped up her lesson and called for an early lunch. She was pleased to see Mark eagerly make his way outside with the rest of the students and diverted her attention to the number of assignments that needed to be graded before the day's end. Some twenty minutes passed before she heard one of the students returning inside.

"...Miss Pritchard?"

The teacher looked up from her desk to see Clay Jensen making his way towards her. "Yes?"

"...Something's wrong with Mark."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… he's just acting strange." Clay pointed out the door to where Mark sat on a bench. "He's just staring and he won't say anything."

"...Thank you, Clay." The teacher quickly made her way outside, crossing the schoolyard and taking a seat beside the young McCain. "Mark, are you alright? ...Mark?" She carefully reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, hesitating before gently shaking him. "Mark?"

Mark's head shot up as he turned towards the woman, confusion in his eyes. "...What?"

"Are you alright?"

"I… I'm fine."

She thought for a moment before asking, "Would you like to take a half day today? If you want to wait at the marshal's office for your pa, I can bring your assignments over later."

"No… no, I'm alright."

"...You're certain?"

"Just tired, I guess. I'm fine." Mark looked around and found Clay before getting up and walking away.

The rest of the day, Miss Pritchard kept a close eye on Mark. Every time she looked his way he was rubbing his forehead; that was, until he finally fell asleep at his desk. After seeing the rest of the students dismissed that afternoon, the teacher made her way outside where she waited for Mark's father to arrive. He finally drove up to the schoolhouse, greeting the woman before asking if his son was still there.

"...I'm afraid so."

"Afraid so?" he asked in confusion, stepping down from the rig. "Is something wrong?"

"...He did say he was tired, so that could be all. But Mark… he was acting strange this afternoon. One of his classmates got me during lunch… he was just sitting on the bench, staring at the ground. When I finally got his attention… he looked up at me… confused. I asked if he wanted to spend the afternoon at the marshal's office, but he said he was alright, just tired. ...He was rubbing his head the last part of the morning and most of the afternoon before he fell asleep. I supposed if he was that tired, it would be best to leave him be."

The rancher let out a concerned sigh, asking if Mark was still at his desk.

She nodded. "I didn't want to disturb him."

"Thank you."

Lucas made his way inside and took long strides towards the back of the room. He knelt down at his son's desk, gently shaking him awake.

Mark's eyes slowly opened to see his pa beside him. He quickly sat up, looking around in confusion. "What happened? What time is it?"

"Almost four. Son, are you feeling alright?"

Mark nodded, subconsciously rubbing his head. "...Just tired is all. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I… oh, Miss Pritchard must be pretty sore if she waited for you…"

"It's alright, Mark," she assured, hesitantly stepping towards him. "After what happened, a full day of school is quite a lot."

"I'm sorry, I… I don't know what happened…"

"There's no need to apologize. ...I'll let the two of you discuss it, and if you're not in class tomorrow, I'll bring your lessons out to the ranch sometime this week. We can try again next Monday if need be."

"I'm fine, I-"

"Thank you," Lucas answered, standing to his feet. "I'll be in town tomorrow morning either way and I'll let you know if we decide to wait. Mark, let's get you over to Doc Burrage."

"Really, I-"

"He wanted to see you this week, anyway. Let's go."

The McCains made their way to the doctor's office before Lucas explained what had happened at the school. Mark gave up insisting that he was fine; the worsening pain in his head making it impossible to keep up appearances. After a short examination, Doc took a step back, crossing his arms.

"Well, Mark, everything appears to be healing nicely, especially the graze on your head. I'm sure today was just a little too much for you to keep up with. Maybe give it another day or two before returning to class."

Expecting his son to protest, Lucas turned towards Mark, only to find him preoccupied with rubbing his head. "...Thanks, Doc," he offered. "Son, let's get you home."

It was a quiet ride to the ranch. Lucas grew concerned as he watched his son struggle to stay awake, occasionally wincing in pain before he would start rubbing his head again. When they arrived at the homestead, Mark got out of the buckboard and headed towards the house without saying a word. Lucas took care of the team before following his son inside, where he found Mark asleep in the bedroom.

It was nearing nine o'clock when Lucas finally heard the bedroom door open. He turned to look at Mark, thankful to see a much more relaxed expression on his face.

"Feeling better, Son?"

"Yeah." He walked to the table and sat down where a plate of food was waiting for him. "...I'm sorry about this afternoon."

Lucas stood and crossed the cabin floor, gripping the back of a chair as he looked into his son's tired eyes. "It's alright. For once, I reckon I could've let you miss a few more days… I didn't realize how much it would take out of you."

Mark slowly shook his head as he used his fork to poke the potatoes on his plate. "...I don't think it was so much going to school that did it…"

"Either way, I'd feel better if you stayed home tomorrow."

"But…"

"We can see how you're doing after that."

"...Yes sir."

Late that night, Mark found himself staring up at the ceiling as he lay awake on his bunk. He was exhausted, but too many questions raced through his head for sleep to take him.

He didn't want to believe that Micah had lied to him. More than that, he didn't want to believe that Micah would lie to his pa. ...But if the marshal was telling the truth…

'Why do I remember so differently?'