After breakfast Will approached Lucas. "Why don't you rest? Rachel's been giving Mark a reading lesson every morning. She can do that while you catch a nap."

Lucas shook his head. "Thanks, Will, but I have a few things to do this morning, and it will be worse if I put them off. I would appreciate Rachel's watching Mark for me, though. I'll be back later."

He was putting on his hat when he felt two thin little arms go around his leg. He looked down to see Mark holding onto him. "Pa, are you leaving me?"

Lucas pulled the boy around and knelt to face him. "Son, I have some business to take care of. You can stay here with Miss Rachel and have your reading lesson. I'll be back."

Mark locked his arms around his father's neck. "Take me with you, Pa. I'll be quiet, but I want to go with you."

Lucas studied his son. The child was the image of his mother - her coloring, her eyes, her features. He found himself unable to deny the boy, and stood up with Mark in his arms. "All right, boy. What I do today affects you, so I guess it's best you're with me. We'll let Miss Rachel know."

xxxxxxxxxx

Lucas rode out to the farm, Mark on the saddle before him. He approached slowly, looking around for signs of Samuel. There was nothing. They dismounted, and went into the barn and found the cow lowing to be milked. Lucas milked the cow, and gave Mark a cup of the fresh milk. While the boy drank it, he sorted through extra lumber until he found the size board he needed.

Mark followed him out of the barn, still drinking his milk, and watched while his Pa sat down on the porch steps. Lucas took out his knife and began to carve. After a few minutes, Mark asked, "What's it say, Pa?"

Lucas smiled at the little boy. "Come over and take a look, son, and see if you can tell me."

Mark climbed the steps, and, standing behind his father, studied the carved letters. "M-A-R-G…Margaret! That's Ma's name!"

"That's right, boy."

Mark watched silently while Lucas made a grave marker for his mother. When he was finished, it read:

Margaret McCain

1850-1877

Beloved Wife and Mother

Father and son studied the words for a few minutes, and then returned to the barn for a shovel. They climbed the hill, hand in hand, and worked together to set the marker at the head of the grave. Mark knelt and patted the ground over his mother. "Bye, Ma. I'll miss you. I love you." He cried quietly.

Lucas picked his boy up. "Your mother loves us, son. She'll always be with us in our hearts and in our memories." He carried the child down to the ranch house. "Go to your room, Mark, and get anything you want to take with us."

Mark looked up at his father in surprise. "Are we leaving, Pa?"

Lucas nodded. "Yes." He hesitated and then went on. "Mark, I borrowed against the farm when your mother was sick. We needed money for medicine, for food, for other things. I had to let things go while I cared for your Ma, and…" His voice faded away.

Mark put a hand on his father's arm. "It's all right, Pa. It don't seem like home without Ma." He went to his room without another word, and Lucas went to the room he'd shared with Margaret. He looked around. It was filled with memories - the bed they'd shared - where they'd loved, created Mark, where Margaret had delivered Mark, and, finally, where she'd died. He pulled a small trunk from under the bed, and packed his belongings, the family Bible, Margaret's wedding dress, her sewing basket, and few pieces of jewelry. He found a box and packed Margaret's dresses and a bolt of fabric. Lucas took a final look around the room - there was nothing else he wanted to take. He called, "Mark? Ready, son?"

Mark came in, carrying a cigar box. "I'm ready, Pa."

Lucas looked at the box. "What about your clothes, son, and your books?"

"They're all at the Greer's, Pa. I just needed to get my treasures." Mark handed the box to his father, and Lucas placed it in the trunk. He carried it out to the porch. "Stay here, son. I'll hitch the horse to the buckboard." He worked quickly, and then led the cow out of the barn. He tied her to the back of the wagon before loading it with the trunk and the box of Margaret's clothes. He lifted Mark up to the wagon seat and climbed up himself. With a "Hah!" to the horse, they left the farm forever.

They rode slowly back to Enid, and stopped at the bank. Lucas lifted Mark down and they went inside. The few people who were there murmured words of sympathy to Lucas and ruffled Mark's hair. Lucas waited until Michael Franklin, the bank president, was free. The man came around his desk to greet them, and invited Lucas to sit. "I was sorry to hear about Margaret," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help-"

Before he could finish, Lucas pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "This is the deed to the farm. I can't pay back what I owe, so…"

Franklin waved it away. "You have time to earn the money, Lucas. The bank doesn't need to foreclose."

Lucas shook his head. "Take the deed, sell the farm, and settle my debts."

The banker took the deed reluctantly. "Are you sure about this? Where will you go with the boy?"

"I'm sure about the farm. Margaret's buried there. I'd like her grave respected. That's all." Lucas lifted Mark off his lap and stood up. Mark took his father's hand, and they left.

As they rode back to the Greer's, Mark sat close to Lucas. "Pa, where are we going?"

Lucas put an arm around his son's shoulders. "We're going back to the Greer's for now, boy, and then we'll see."

xxxxxxx

After supper Lucas put Mark to bed. "I want to sit up with you, Pa," the boy objected.

Lucas shook his head. "No, we have an early day tomorrow, son, and you need your rest. I'll join you in a few minutes. I'm tired, too, but I need to talk with Will and Rachel first."

"Are you going to tell them what we did today?" Mark asked.

Lucas nodded, and that satisfied his son. He let his Pa go, and Lucas kissed his forehead. "Night, son."

Will and Rachel were sitting in the parlor. Rachel sipped a cup of tea while Will smoked a cigar. He offered one to Lucas, lit it for him, and then waited.

"Mark and I are leaving tomorrow," Lucas began. Will and Rachel started to object, but he held up a hand. "I took the deed to the farm to Michael Franklin at the bank this morning. He'll sell it and settle my debts." He turned to Rachel. "I packed a box with Margaret's clothes. I'd like you to take them for anyone in town who might need them. I put our cow in your barn. You can keep her or give her to a family who needs her. She's…" Lucas' voice broke and he covered his face with his hands.

Rachel moved to sit beside him, and pulled the tall man's head down to her shoulder. It was an awkward position, but, for the first time that day, Lucas let himself mourn his wife. Will handed Rachel a small glass of whiskey, and, after a few minutes, she lifted Lucas' head and held it to his lips. "Take a sip, Lucas."

He straightened up, took the glass from her, and drank it.

"Wait another day to leave, Lucas. Rest tomorrow. Get another horse to pull the buckboard, and make a plan," Will suggested. "Why are you in such a hurry to go?"

Lucas sighed and faced his friend. "If I stay, if I ever see Samuel Gibbs again, I'll kill him. He took our money, and he said he'd be back with the medicine for Margaret. He never came back. If I know Samuel, he's in some bar, drinking it up while my wife, Mark's mother lies cold in her grave." His voice shook with rage, and Will thought he'd never seen a man's face so filled with hate.

"He killed her?" Will asked.

Lucas shook his head. "No. Margaret was sick, but the medicine could have helped her. Even Doc Baker says that."

Will nodded. "All right, Lucas. I - we understand. Just please rest tomorrow. If Gibbs does come back, we'll make sure you don't see him."

Lucas was so tired - he just nodded in agreement and stood up. He walked back to the guest room. Too tired to do more than take off his boots, he lay down beside Mark and went to sleep.