Early the next morning, Hannah entered the front room to find Lucas sitting beside the fire.

"Good morning," she greeted in surprise. "I didn't figure you would be up and around at this hour."

"Just doing some reflecting." Lucas closed his Bible and set it aside before stoking the fire.

"Did you sleep alright?"

"The room was fine… I was just a bit restless."

"Everything alright?"

"…This will be the first time I've left Mark since we left Enid. …I reckon it's worrying me more than it should."

"Anyone would feel that way, especially considering… well, considering how quickly Margaret passed. But he'll be just fine."

"I know." Lucas let out a deep sigh as he stood. "I better get going on those chores if the barn's going to be in order by the time we leave."

"Now Lucas…"

"Please, it's the least I can do. And while Mark's here…"

The man was suddenly interrupted as his son's frantic voice bounced off the walls. "Pa?! PA?!"

As Mark came racing into the room, Lucas reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, kneeling down in front of him. "Son, what's the matter?"

"I… I thought you left without saying goodbye."

Lucas shook his head, tousling Mark's hair as he stood. "Not a chance. Why don't you go put a shirt on like a civilized human being and then help me with the morning chores?"

"Yes, Pa."

"And be quiet; folks are still trying to sleep."

"Yes sir."

Hannah chuckled as the boy scampered away, disappearing down the hall. "He inherited so much more than her looks…"

"That he did." Turning towards Hannah again, Lucas went on, "Like I was saying, don't be afraid to put him to work while he's here; he needs it to keep him out of trouble."

"Oh don't worry; I'll come up with plenty to keep him busy."

Father and son spent quite some time tending to the chores that morning. After they had finished, Lucas picked his boy up and set him on a sawhorse, bending down so they were at the same level.

"…Son, last night you were worried I was going to leave you and not come back. What would ever make you think a thing like that?"

Mark's gaze dropped to the floor, concerning Lucas. The father placed his hand under the boy's chin and lifted it, their eyes meeting once more. "You can tell me; it's alright."

"…Before… before we left home, I… I heard you talkin' to Uncle Abe…"

Deep creases formed on Lucas's brow as he saw tears welling in his son's eyes. "…Just what did you hear me say?"

"…You said you didn't want to raise me on your own. You said it was too hard… you said… you said I'd be better off without you…"

"Oh, Mark…" Lucas pulled his boy into his arms as the child burst into tears. "Son…"

"Pa, please… I… I try to be good! I… I know I ain't much good to ya now, but when I grow up to be big like you-"

"Now you stop right there." Lucas cupped his son's face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the steadily falling tears. "You and your mother were the best things that ever happened to me. I wouldn't care if you stayed the way you are or grew to be ten feet tall. What you can or can't do will never change my love for you. You are my son; that's all I ever need you to be. And you do me more good than you will ever know. …Mark, when I said those things, it wasn't because I didn't want you. It was because I was scared."

Sniffling, the boy again looked up at his father. "S-Scared?"

"That's right. I was scared of losing your mother. I said I didn't want to raise you alone, not because I didn't want to raise you, but because I didn't want your ma to die. I said it would be too hard, not because I wasn't going to try my hardest, but because your ma dying meant I had to try to make up for her, and I can't. …I said you'd be better off without me, not because I wanted to leave you… but because I was afraid I would do something wrong… that I wouldn't be a good enough father. But you, Son, while it hurts that your mother died… while I still make a lot of mistakes… you did me a world of good. You helped my heart heal just enough so that I could do what I wanted: take you with me. And if it hadn't been for that… if it hadn't been for you… I don't know where I would be. …Mark, I have to take this job. We need the money, especially if we're going to find that ranch… our ranch, and settle down one day. But I promise you that I will come back. Wild horses couldn't keep us apart."

"So you… you never wanted to leave me?"

Lucas shook his head, tears forming in his own eyes at the realization of what his son had carried for the last nine months. "Never in a hundred years. The only reason it ever crossed my mind was because I thought it might be better for you. But then I realized just how wrong I was. I realized how much you and me need each other. After all, we are partners, aren't we?"

Mark nodded, a huge grin sweeping across his face as he pushed himself off the sawhorse and into his pa's strong arms. "And you're coming right back here when you're done working?"

Lucas carried his son outside and pointed at the parked stagecoach. "Twenty-one days from now, that coach will pull back into this yard with me sitting right on top of it. And my partner better be waiting for me on that porch when it does!"

"I will be!"

"Good." Lucas set his son down, slapping him on the shoulder. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry! Why don't we go in and see what Mrs. Moore has for breakfast?"

Over a week had passed since Lucas had left. Mark spent his days around the stage stop, doing the chores Mrs. Moore asked him to tend to, keeping up with the studies his pa had laid out for him, and spending a considerable amount of time in the barn with his father's horse. One afternoon, Mark was sweeping the front porch when he saw a man riding up to the house.

"Well, good afternoon, young man."

"Afternoon, sir." Mark watched as the man dismounted, noticing the badge on his shirt.

"Mrs. Moore around?"

"Yes sir; I think she's…"

Interrupting the boy's reply, Hannah stepped out of the house and onto the porch. "Good afternoon, Sheriff. What brings you all the way out here?"

"I'm afraid I just received word from Oklahoma. …It's about Paul."

"…I see. …Mark, I'll finish up here. Why don't you work on your books for a while?"

"…Yes ma'am."

Hannah waited for the boy to make his way inside before again turning her attention to the sheriff. "…What happened? Is he… is he dead?"

"The trial's over, but without an eyewitness…. the judge wouldn't hang him. He was waiting to be transferred farther south where he would be serving his sentence, and… Hannah, I'm sorry. He escaped."

The woman took in a deep breath, sitting down on the porch steps as she slowly let it out. The sheriff took a seat beside her, carefully studying her face before going on. "…Seems he killed a guard in the process… injured two more."

"…When was this?"

"A week ago. ...There was a sighting in Jacksonville yesterday."

"…Thank you for letting me know."

"Hannah, I'd feel a whole lot better if you stayed in town for a spell. Faye would be happy to set up the guest room for you."

"Thank you, but I have to keep things running here."

"I don't like you being out here alone… especially with Paul on the loose."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be just fine. There are stages coming through here every day… I can't think of the last time I didn't have a guest overnight. Besides, Paul knows this is the first place they'll come looking. He'd be smarter than to come back here."

"Regardless, someone will be out here once a day to check up on you… just to make sure everything is as it should be."

"Thank you."

The sheriff stood and looked towards the house as he asked, "Who's the boy?"

"Mark McCain. His father has a job with the stage company for a few weeks and asked me to keep him. We were old friends back in Oklahoma."

"Wife die?"

"Last summer, the smallpox epidemic in Enid."

"I see. …How long are they staying on after he gets back?"

"Amos Sharp, don't you dare start getting any ideas," Hannah declared, frowning at the man's teasing grin. "Lucas and I have only ever been good friends and that's all we're ever gonna be. They're leaving the day after he gets back, so you can put aside any silly notions about starting rumors!"

The man chuckled at the woman's temper, shaking his head. "I'll be seeing you, Hannah."

"Tell Faye and the children I said hello."

"Will do!"

Smiling, Hannah rolled her eyes and finished sweeping the porch before returning inside the house. She found Mark working on his studies at the kitchen table and started to make preparations for supper, occasionally turning aside to answer the child's questions. Mark finally closed his books, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"All done?"

"Yes ma'am. …I sure don't understand why Pa makes me do this. It just ain't practical!"

"Practical?"

"Well sure! I mean, when am I ever gonna need to know this stuff? I sure ain't usin' it now!"

"Well… look at this way. You and your father are looking to buy a ranch, right?"

"Right…?"

"And you know your pa has to sign a contract when he does?"

"Well sure."

"Just think if he didn't know how to read. What if someone put something in there without telling him, and he signed it anyway? What if the paper he signed said he had to give all the land back in ten years?"

"…Well but I already know how to read! It's this 'rithmetic I don't understand!"

"That's the most important thing of all for a rancher! You've got to know how to figure how much feed, and fencing, and seed you're going to need. You've got to know when you're getting a good price for cattle, and how much you need to sell your beef for in order to make a profit."

"…I guess maybe it ain't all a waste. But I sure don't like it!"

Hannah chuckled, shaking her head as she turned back to the green beans.

"…Mrs. Moore, can I ask you a question?"

"Why certainly?"

"Who's that?"

Hannah turned to see the picture Mark was pointing at. A sad smile crossed the woman's face as she let out a heavy sigh. "…That's my son, Peter."

"How come he don't live here? Or is he all grown up now?"

"No… Peter passed away just a few months ago. …That photograph was taken just a few weeks before he died."

"Oh… I'm sorry."

"That's alright." She looked up at the boy once more, smiling. "I think you would have liked him very much. You remind me a great deal of him."

"…My pa said you used to live in Enid. How come you moved?"

"…My husband got a job with the railroad. When… when we found out I was expecting Peter, I came here to stay with his parents. They passed on and… and I've been here ever since."

"…So you've seen a lot of stagecoaches come through, haven't ya?"

She nodded.

"Do you… have you seen… do a lot of folks… die when they're supposed to be protectin' the stage?"

Hannah crossed the kitchen and sat down beside the boy. "Are you worried about your father?"

Avoiding the question, he clarified, "I mean… I know people do die, but… does it happen a lot?"

"Mark, there's nothing for you to worry about. Like you said, sometimes it does happen, but not very often. Besides, I haven't ever seen a better shot than your pa!"

"…But… but what if something did happen?"

Hannah reached out, gently placing her hand on Mark's. "It's going to be alright. I'm sure your pa is being very careful. …Tell you what. After supper tonight and all the guests are settled, why don't we check the maps and see where your father is going to be Sunday? Then we can send him a telegram so when he gets there, he can wire back and let you know that everything is just fine."

"Really?"

"I'm sure he's missing you an awful lot and a telegram will be a nice surprise. Now, help me snap these beans so we can get supper going. It sure isn't going to cook itself!"