"Lou?"

The hotel proprietor turned around to see Lucas striding towards her, deep creases on his brow. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Mark was supposed to come into town this afternoon. Have you seen him?"

"No… the last I saw him was last night. …Did ya check over with Nils?"

"I just came from there."

"…Maybe he just lost track of time?"

Lucas let out a heavy sigh as he looked up at the clock. "We were supposed to have supper here again tonight. Even if the afternoon got away from him, he should be here by now. …If you see him, will you tell him I said to wait at the marshal's office for me?"

"I will."

Lucas stepped out onto the boardwalk, looking up and down the street before starting back towards the livery.

"Any luck?" Nils asked.

The rancher shook his head. "Would you mind-"

"There he is."

Lucas turned around to see Nils pointing at Mark as he dismounted in front of the marshal's office. Even from a distance, the father could tell something wasn't right.

"…Thanks, Nils." Lucas hurried down the street and caught the door to the jailhouse as it started to close behind his son. He entered the office to find Mark easing himself into a chair, several abrasions and a number of bruises lining the boy's face. "Mark, what happened?!"

"Sorry I'm late, Pa," he wearily answered. "…It was a long day."

Lucas knelt down in front of Mark, taking his son's chin in his hand before Mark pulled away. "What'd you do, get trampled by a bull?"

Mark shook his head. "I'm alright."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"…Please, Pa, I don't want to talk about it." Mark stood and started towards the stove, a sharp pain in his side stopping him.

Lucas stood and led Mark to sit down on the edge of the desk, ignoring his son's protests as he began to unbutton Mark's shirt. Seeing a large bruise along the boy's rib cage, Lucas demanded an explanation.

"…I got into a fight."

"With who?!"

"…Willie. It didn't seem so bad until this morning… that's why I'm so late… took a long time to get everything done."

"This morning? When did this happen?"

"As I was leaving town last night."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"…I didn't think it could get any worse than it was… I didn't want to bother you about it. …It was my own fault for not walking away when I should have."

Lucas shook his head. "We'll talk about the rest of this later. I want Doc to look at your ribs."

Father and son slowly made their way to Doc Burrage's office. Upon examination, Mark struggled to keep from reacting any time the doctor touched his side.

"Well they're not broken," Burrage finally said. "But you sure didn't do yourself any favors. I want you to put witch hazel on your ribs every morning, and use arnica on them and the rest of your bruises at night. You can still see to your chores, just take it slow and easy… maybe put off any wood chopping for a few days."

Mark nodded as Lucas thanked the doctor. After they finished at the office, the pair made their way over to the hotel.

"Mark, what on earth happened to ya?!" Lou exclaimed.

"I'll be fine."

She looked to Lucas, waiting for an explanation. "Seems Mark and Willie had something to settle."

"You boys… I ought ta tan yer hides!"

"I think he's learned his lesson," Lucas answered. "There any room for us in the dining room?"

Lou let out a deep breath, shaking her head. "Follow me…"

After they had ordered, Lucas turned back to his son, the expression on his face indicating that he still wanted a full explanation. "Well?"

"…Well, because you wouldn't let…" Mark stopped, realizing how his statement might come across. "…Because I told Mr. Waller I wouldn't be taking that job, he of course had to find someone else to do it. He ended up asking Willie, and I guess he told him why I wouldn't take it. Willie stopped me on my way out of town last night and kept saying things to rile me… kept insulting my character and saying I was too scared to take the job. I kept telling him it wasn't like that, and so he challenged me to a fight to prove it. …I know I should have ignored him, but I just couldn't find it in myself to just walk away."

"Mark, people like Willie… there's no way to satisfy them. You just have to come to the conclusion that what they think or say doesn't matter."

"If it doesn't matter, why does it bother me so much?"

"It'll take time, but you will eventually become confident enough in your own decisions that it won't anymore."

"…But this wasn't my decision."

"In a way, it was. You knew it would be best to ask me, and even when I said no, you resigned to that decision. A lot of boys your age would have ignored their father's answer, or not asked for permission in the first place. Yes, I would have tried to stop you if you had attempted to go through with it, but you made the choice to respect my authority and counsel even though you disagreed. All that aside, you should be confident in knowing that Willie's accusations weren't true… even though I think you still need to evaluate what I told you before."

"I am."

"Good. After we're finished eating, I want you to take BlueBoy down to the livery."

"The livery?"

"By the way you've been walking, I can tell you could use a break from riding. I'll ask Lou to give you a room for the night."

"Well couldn't I just stay at the jail with you?"

Lucas shook his head. "We've got ranch hands in town tonight, I'm sure I'll have a few customers before too long."

After supper, Mark made his way down to the livery, Lucas arranging his room before heading towards the gunshop. He briefly hesitated before opening the door, finding the gunsmith behind the counter.

"Hello, Lucas."

"Henry."

"I was just getting ready to close up. Something I can do for you? Mark's rifle isn't sticking again, is it?"

"No, he said it's been working fine. …I wanted to talk to you about that job you offered him."

"Now Lucas, I didn't mean any offense by not talking to you first. Mark's getting on to being a man and I figured he had the right to hear the offer himself."

"That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I don't think you've thought through all of the consequences of asking boys to do a man's job."

"It's Willow Springs, not Lincoln. If Jeff weren't so much help to me here, I would be having him do it."

"That's still a long ways to go, especially with that kind of cargo. It's your business, Henry; I won't tell you how to run it. But I think you need to give what you're doing a little more thought."

"Like you said, it's my business."

Lucas let out a deep breath before nodding. "…Have a good night."

Hearing the door open behind him, Lucas turned around to see Micah entering the office. "I thought you weren't due back until tomorrow?"

"Decided to take the stage the rest of the way instead of staying over in Santa Fe. Have any trouble while I was gone?"

Lucas gave a short chuckle as he handed the marshal a cup of coffee. "Nothing more than a few brawls."

"Who was it this time?"

"Cody and Martin, Riley and Courtland… and then there's Mark and Willie."

"At the saloon?!"

Lucas shook his head. "I told Mark he couldn't take a job with Henry transporting guns up to Willow Springs. Willie ended up getting the job and keeps harassing Mark about not taking it… riling him up to get into a fight. Mark's doing better about steering clear of Willie, but yesterday they had it out at the ranch."

"Willie's always seemed to be set against Mark. Do you know why?"

Again, the rancher shook his head. "For a while I thought it was because of a fight they had back when I was gambling to help Jesse Philips, but Mark said it started a long time before then."

"Does he know why?"

"I think he does, but he never seems to get around to answering me when I ask him. Mark didn't want me getting involved, but after yesterday, I told Willie I'd press charges if he trespassed on our property again."

"I'll try to keep an eye on him around here."

"Thanks."

"…Willow Springs… that's quite a ways to be sending those boys, isn't it? Especially with guns."

"I tried talking to Henry about it, but he won't listen."

"Foolishness."

"…How was your visit with Jenny?"

The marshal smiled as he sat down at his desk. "She's grown into a fine young woman… talking to her was almost like talking to Evelyn. …I wish they hadn't settled so far east… this visit made me realize how much I've missed out on."

"What's Jenny going to do now?"

"For now, she's staying with her father's sister, Leah. I think there was some talk of her going to a finishing school."

"…I can't quite see Jenny fitting in too well at a place like that," Lucas chuckled.

"Exactly the reason Leah says she needs to go. We'll see if Jenny can talk her way out of it."

The rancher smiled as he finished off the last of his coffee. "Since you weren't due back until tomorrow, do you want me to watch the office tonight?"

"Go on home, you've done more than enough. Thanks for keeping an eye on things."

"Any time. I'll see you later."

When Lucas arrived at the ranch, he called his son's name, but received no answer. After checking the cabin, the rancher returned outside to discover that the team was gone. He studied the yard for a fresh set of wagon tracks before following them northwest from the homestead.

Within half an hour, Lucas found Mark working with the team to remove a fallen tree that was blocking their main waterway. Too late, the rancher realized the danger his son was in. He called out a warning just as the team made one final lunge forward, a rush of water knocking the young man off his feet and forcing him downstream.

"Mark!" Lucas jumped from Razor and raced to the riverbed. "MARK!"

The boy's head suddenly shot up out of the water several yards beyond Lucas. As Mark struggled to pull himself onto the bank, the rancher ran to meet his son, dropping to his knees as the boy collapsed onto the ground. Coughing and sputtering, Mark worked to catch his breath as he felt a strong set of hands help him sit upright.

"Mark, are you alright?!"

"I… I think so…"

Lucas reached down and wiped the blood from his son's forehead before retrieving his handkerchief and holding it to the wound. Mark winced as the injury began to sting, taking hold of the cloth as he pulled back from Lucas.

"…What are you doing here?"

"Micah got back early- and it's a good thing he did! Mark, what were you thinking? Why didn't you wait for me?!"

"You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow afternoon, and with how hot it's been getting, I was worried the cattle wouldn't get enough water."

"If they were thirsty enough, they would've made their way up here themselves."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "…I guess with how bad everything else has gone today, I should have realized something like this would happen."

"Everything else?"

"…The well is getting low and the pump's not working, the cattle scattered and busted a few fences, and I think a fox or something got into the barn last night. BlueBoy threw a shoe and then the buckboard needed fixed before I could come out here, and…" Mark shook his head as he examined the handkerchief to see how much blood it held. "…Sorry, Pa… it's just been a long day."

"I'd say so… especially without someone else around to help." Lucas turned Mark to face him and studied his son's eyes for a few moments. "I want you to sit here for a few more minutes while I get the horses."

Mark nodded, watching as his pa finished moving the tree before hitching the team again. Lucas then tied Razor to the rear of the buckboard, finally driving it back to where Mark sat. The young man slowly stood and walked the short distance to the rig, taking his pa's hand to steady himself as he climbed up into the seat.

"Are you sure you're alright, Son?"

"Just a little disoriented from going under. I'll be fine."

"…I think maybe we should have Doc look you over."

"I just want to go home. If it makes you feel any better, I'll go straight to bed."

"…Alright. But if you start feeling worse…"

"I'll let you know, I promise."

The following morning saw Mark sitting on the edge of his bunk, holding his head in his hands. Lucas crossed the room and took a seat beside him, looking him over in concern.

"…Mark?"

He looked up at his pa, his tired eyes revealing how little sleep he had gotten the night before.

"How's your head?"

"…Hurts a lot more than it did last night."

"I'll fix us something to eat, then we'll head into town to see Doc Burrage."

"Go ahead, I'm not really hungry."

"Son, you skipped supper last night; you need to eat something."

"…I'll try."

Mark only managed to force a few bites down before Lucas went to hitch the team. When father and son arrived in town, Lucas took note of how slowly his son was moving and put a supportive hand on Mark's shoulder as they entered the office.

"Well now, what'd you do?" Burrage asked. "Get into another fight?"

Mark shook his head as he was directed to sit down. "…Thought I'd see what it was like to be thrown around in the bottom of a creek bed."

"Well, I see that your sense of humor is still intact," he chuckled. "That looks like a nasty cut on your head, though."

Lucas stepped back as the doctor began to examine his son. "I cleaned it up when we got home last night, but he said his head was hurting more this morning than it was before."

"Mark, does it hurt just where you hit it, or all over?"

"…It hurts the most there and here," he answered, lightly touching a small bump on the back of his head. "But it does kinda hurt all over."

"Anything else I should know about?"

Mark gently shook his head. "I just don't think I did my other injuries any favors."

Burrage took a few minutes to look Mark over, finishing by applying a salve to the cut on his head. "…I don't think this needs to be bandaged, but keep it clean and keep an eye out for any sign of infection, Luke. As far as chores go, I think the boy's off the hook for a few days… I want him to take it easy until I see him some time next week."

"Sure, Doc."

"He doesn't have to stay in bed the whole time, but keep an eye on him and have him rest when he tires. Mark, you tell your pa if your head doesn't start feeling any better in a day or two."

"Yes sir."

After finishing with Doc, Lucas told Mark to wait in the buckboard while he went to order a new part for their pump. As his pa entered the general store, Mark saw Jeffrey walking down the boardwalk and waved.

"Willie sure wasn't joshin'," Jeff declared. "He really did lick you good."

"This wasn't all him; I wasn't paying attention while I was working yesterday. Besides, I don't exactly have size on my side."

"What is it between you two? I mean, Willie's always had a chip on his shoulder, but you're the only one he ever takes it out on."

"…When they first moved here, Willie and I got in an argument about something… I shouldn't have ever brought it up. …I think deep down he knows what I said was true, but he's too proud to admit it. I think he wants to equate beating me in a physical fight to me being wrong about what I said."

"You said something? That's it? What did you say that got him so riled?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Apparently it does to him!"

"Please, Jeff, just leave well enough alone."

"…Alright. …Say, you want to go fishing Sunday?"

"Maybe. I'll let you know next time we come into town."

"See you then."

Only a few more minutes passed before Lucas returned to the buckboard and they started home. The rancher noticed an unusual silence between them, finally looking over to see his son deep in thought.

"Something the matter?"

Mark shook his head. "…Just thinking back."

"Seems to me you're doing more than that. Something have you worried?"

"No, I just… Pa, why do you think it is that folks take so much pride in who their kin is?"

"What do you mean?"

"…I guess I'm really wondering why some folks take it so personal when someone close to them turns out to not be the most upstanding citizen. It's not their fault the other person did something wrong."

"…Family… they're a part of you and there's something natural to wanting to defend your own. When you realize you maybe can't defend the person, you fight any accusations because you don't want them to be true. I reckon part of it is because a person tends to put a lot of trust in the people they're related to… there's a special bond there, and when it's broken… you feel betrayed… you begin to doubt your own judgment. And at the last, you begin to fear that everyone else assumes you to be the same way. So some people go on fighting the truth, even when they know it to be a lost cause. …What makes you ask?"

"…Just trying to make sense of the way some people act."

"Wrong is still wrong, but think on the way you felt when I got put on trial up in the hills."

"But you hadn't done anything!"

"And you were ready to testify as much until you realized that you didn't see what happened. Even then, you were convinced of my innocence and would've defended me to the death."

"…Yeah… and because of that, my own testimony nearly got you hung…"

Lucas pulled hard on the reins, bringing the horses to a stop as he turned towards his son. "Mark, that wasn't your fault! You did exactly what I expected you to do- you told the truth! Don't you ever think that what happened up there was your fault!"

"…But if I had just kept quiet, they wouldn't have even bothered questioning me."

"Yes, they would have." Lucas reached out and placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. He looked into Mark's eyes, pained by the burden his boy had been carrying all that time. "If anything, Son, you being there saved my life."

"What are you talking about? I-"

"Jeremiah admitted to me later that it wasn't so much the lack of another witness that kept him from having me hung. …Seeing you, seeing what it would have done to you if I was killed, that's what kept him from acting on his anger. He was sure I was guilty, but he didn't want you to have to pay for my apparent wrong any more than necessary. …Mark, I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt that it was somehow your fault. I would've set you straight a long time ago if I did." Lucas continued to study his son, growing concerned as he saw him trying to blink back tears. "…Mark?"

Several moments passed as he tried to answer, a coarse whisper finally forcing its way through the lump in his throat. "…Thanks, Pa."

Lucas pulled his son closer as he again slapped the reins, urging the team towards home.