Anne was packing up her basket when Lucas went back inside.

"Anne, don't go home tonight. Stay with us. You can sleep in Mark's room," Lucas offered.

Anne gave him a sad smile. "Thank you, but Dr. Baker can escort me home now, and…" she took a deep breath and let it out slowly…"I have to face an empty house sometime, Lucas. No point in putting it off."

He followed her outside where Dr. Baker had finished tacking up her horse. He took the basket and held her horse while she mounted. Lucas looked up at her. "I spoke to Rachel Greer - I'm sure she and Will will be in touch with you about a service for Hal. Thank you for all your help, Anne." She gave him another sad smile, and walked her horse towards the road.

Dr. Baker had mounted, and he looked down at Lucas. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on Margaret," and he and Anne left.

Lucas headed to the barn, and took up the stool to milk the cow. As milk poured into the pail, he considered what a waste it was. Without the boy there to drink it, it would spoil. He would drink some of it, but it was too hard on Margaret's stomach - she'd never be able to keep it down. He sighed, and carried the bucket inside. From force of habit, he strained it through a cheesecloth, and put it aside. Then he remembered Mark's drawing and took it to show Margaret.

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Samuel was sore and tired. He'd been riding for hours. Although they'd left the farm at a gallop, he'd soon slowed down and kept Buck at a steady trot until rain began. The road was muddy and slick, and they were forced to slow to a walk. Although he was impatient to reach Oklahoma City, he needed to water the horse and rest a bit himself if he expected to be in any condition fit to get Margaret's medicine and return to Enid.

He came to a small town as the sun was rising. No one was on the street, but there were lanterns lit on either side of the saloon's batwing doors. A water trough stood nearby, and Sam rode Buck over to it. He dismounted, and tied Buck to the railing before walking into the saloon. It was empty but for the bartender. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a whiskey. Just one drink, he thought. Margaret wouldn't begrudge me one drink.

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Doc Baker rode up to the small farmhouse. It was mid-morning, but he could hear the cow lowing, wanting to be milked. He didn't bother to knock, just went inside and made his way to the bedroom. Lucas was slumped in a chair, sound asleep. Margaret was awake and she put a finger to her lips as the doctor entered.

He went to her bed, took her wrist, and felt her pulse. It was much slower. The doctor looked at her, and thought she looked paler. He took out his stethoscope and put it to her chest. He listened for a few seconds.

"How is she?"

The doctor was startled by the sudden question. Lucas had waked up, and was looking at him anxiously. He hesitated before answering - Margaret was looking up at him. "The medicine will help," he said. "Sam should be back by late afternoon, this evening at the latest." He put his stethoscope away. "Your cow needs milking. I'll take care of it, and, if you don't mind, I'll take some of the milk with me. I have to visit another family. Their cow has gone dry and the children…"

"Take what you need, Doc," Lucas said. He stood up and stretched. "Help yourself to some coffee. I'll get the milk." He left for the barn, and the doctor poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip and made a face. There was no telling how long it had been sitting. He tossed the coffee out the door, avoiding Margaret's flowers along the porch.

He went down to the barn. Lucas was milking the cow, and the pail was almost full. Dr. Baker thought the cow looked relieved, and he shook himself. I must be worn out to imagine such things.

"How is Margaret, really?" Lucas asked him.

"She's growing weaker, Lucas. Stay close. It all comes down to her own strength and the medicine."

Lucas stopped milking and looked up at the doctor in alarm. "Margaret hasn't been strong since Mark was born. She almost died then and was sick for a long time after."

"Sam will be back today with her medicine. You have believe that." He patted the big man on the shoulder, took the pail of milk, and left.

Lucas walked back to the house. He knew he should pray, but somehow the words wouldn't come, wouldn't form. Margaret watched him from the window, and felt her heart break for him. Such a good man, such a strong man, she thought. Lord, let me be strong for him.

He brought her a cup of broth, and helped her sit up to drink it. When she finished it, she took a look at him. "Lucas, you look tired to death." Before he could wave her words away, she reached up to him. "We're both sick of this room. I think I'd feel so much better if we went for a little walk outside."

Lucas stared at her in surprise. "Outside? But, Margaret, you need to stay in bed…" He broke off as she shook her head.

"Outside, Lucas. We both need some fresh air. Just help me wrap up in a quilt, and we'll go outside for a few minutes."

Against his better judgment, Lucas wrapped Margaret up well before taking her up in his arms and carrying her outside. He walked around the yard with her, hardly listening as she talked, telling him how she wanted her vegetable garden made, where she wanted to try to grow roses, and did he think Mark was big enough for a horse so he could attend school in Enid. She knew he was old enough and would take good care of it, but he was small for his age - he took after her side of the family, after all, and the Gibbs were small people. She didn't even reach his shoulder, and, at age six, Mark just barely came to his belt buckle.

Lucas felt how light she was to carry. He could feel her bones through the quilt, and it reminded him of a little bird. Her fragility frightened him, and he turned towards the house. "We've been outside long enough, sweetheart. Do you think you could drink a little more broth?"

"Yes, and you could eat something, too."

He started to object, but she shook her head. "I know you haven't been taking good care of yourself because you've been taking such good care of me." When she took that tone, he knew it was no use to argue. He loved her far too much to call her stubborn, but he did think she had a great deal of determination.

He took her back to bed and tucked her in before going to the stove and getting her more broth. He made a sandwich for himself and carried everything back to their room. He piled pillows behind her and helped her with her cup. He stood up to take their few dishes back to the sink. Margaret stopped him. "Let them just stay there for a bit. I'd like you to read to me."

Lucas reached for their Bible. "What would you like to hear?"

"Psalm 46." She listened while he read aloud, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof…"

"God is our refuge and strength," she repeated. "Oh, Lucas, such comforting words."

He put the Bible on the table next to her, and she reached for his hands. This time she held both of his between hers. "Let's pray, Lucas."

"There's only one thing I want to pray for, Margaret," he said, "and he isn't here yet." He tried to withdraw his hands from hers but she held on with surprising strength.

"Then I'll pray for us both." She gripped his hands a little tighter, closed her eyes and whispered, "Almighty God, I entrust my husband and son to your care and love, for this life and the life to come, knowing that you are doing for them better things than I

can desire or pray for; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Margaret opened her eyes to find Lucas staring at her. "I can't lose you," he said. "I can't."

She caressed his cheek. "No matter what happens, Lucas, I'll always be with you and Mark." She lay back. "I think I can sleep a little now. Wake me if Pa comes."

Lucas was back at the sink with their dishes before he realized that she'd said "if Pa comes" instead of when he comes.