Chapter 2: Margaret

Later that evening, the McCains and Micah joined Rough and his men in the mess hall which was no more than a canvas tent erected over a crude wooden frame. The table was a couple of large planks atop used wooden barrels. Lanterns hung from the wooden tent pole above.

Mark was talking excitedly as they entered. "Don't forget your manners, boy," Lucas said, popping Mark's hat off his head.

"Sorry Pa."

Lucas and Mark took a seat on one of the long benches. Mark brushed the bangs from his eyes as Micah sat down across from them. Lucas rested the rifle nearby and stared at his son's hair with disapproval. "Remind me to cut that hair of yours when we get back home."

Mark's face screwed up unhappily. "Ah Pa, can't I just go into town and get it done this time." His father always managed to cut it uneven. But store bought hair cuts costs cash money, something the McCains didn't always have a lot to spare when there was a long list of other necessities they needed.

"I'll think about it." But the look on his father's face didn't seem very encouraging. Micah hid a grin behind his hand.

While they were waiting for Tubbs to bring out the food, Mark excitedly showed his father the snake charm Billy Whitefeather had given him. Lucas smiled at his son's enjoyment but told him to put it away 'till after supper.

"Yes, sir," Mark said and tucked in neatly into his jacket pocket.

Tubbs had fixed a hearty meal which the men devoured with enthusiasm. And, as promised, they had chocolate cake for desert. Mark scraped his plate clean enjoying every last savory bite. After they finished eating, the men departed to their separate ways leaving Lucas, Micah, Rough and Mark to linger at the table. Tubbs left a pot of coffee for them before taking leave himself.

Once he was sure Tubbs was out of sight, Rough got up and retrieved a bottle of whiskey he knew Tubbs kept behind one of the apple barrels. He poured a measure into his coffee and offered one to Micah.

The old marshal declined.

"What's this? An Irishman refusing a touch of the dog?"

"'Fraid so. At least this one. I'm afraid me and that old friend have had to part company some years back. I take my coffee strong and straight these days."

"Oh, what a shame," Rough said, but didn't press the issue. Lucas declined as well and Rough replaced the bottle. "So, how long have you been in the marshaling business, Micah?"

"Longer that this old bird dog cares to remember I'm afraid. Didn't make my pa none too happy as I recall when I told him. He even tried to make me quit but once I got the taste of it, well the blood of a lawman just doesn't let a man rest easy in anything else."

"Never thought of settling down?"

"Chasing outlaws from one stretch of the country to the next doesn't give a man much time for settling down and raising a family," Micah replied. "Besides, don't expect a reputable woman would want much to do with me anyway, nowadays." Micah laughed.

"I know the feeling. Timberwork is a lot like that that but I couldn't see myself doing much else nowadays. Men like us are a breed in and of ourselves. Born under the stars and meant to die the same."

Micah nodded.

The foreman took his pipe out and lit it, resting his beefy arms on the table. "Still can't believe this one ever settled down," Roug remarked pointing to his old friend. "You know Marshal, Luke here was quite the wild one in his day."

"So I've come to learn over the years," Micah replied. The old marshal had learned much about this big man he'd come to respect and call one of his closest friends, but even now there were many things that still surprised him.

"Rough and I go way back," Lucas explained. "We knew each other in Texas before I moved to Oklahoma."

Rough looked at Mark. "I remember when your Pa was just a cocky young cow poke with barely enough stubble to be called a man and prideful enough to get himself in a heap of trouble."

Mark glanced keenly over at his father. His father seldom talked about his past.

"I've been takin' down a notch or two since then," was Lucas' reply, sipping on his coffee.

"Good thing too, or you probably would have been in jail by now." Rough laughed. Lucas could only agree. Back then he'd made a lot of mistakes, some of which he felt he was still paying for even today. He saw the inquisitive look in his son's eyes but refused to elaborate.

"Say, you remember Tom Birch? I wonder whatever happened to him?"

The name struck a familiarity in Mark's memory. "Pa, isn't he the one that came to visit ya last year?"

Lucas sat down his coffee cup slowly. He nodded and seeing the curious look on Rough's face went onto to explain. "He and his gang of outlaws were planning on robbing the bank in North Fork last year. Guess they pressed their luck one too many times. Most of his men were killed. Tom…he ended up in prison."

Micah looked over at Lucas remembering the incident well. Lucas had neglected to mention that he had been the one to stop Tom from going through with his plan and had been the one responsible for his capture. All Lucas would say on the matter later when Micah questioned him was that at one time he might have been on the other side of the gun.

Rough nodded. "Yeah, he was always a wild one all right. Never could picture old Tom as one to ever settle ever down into an honest life. It's good to see you didn't follow suit. The two of you were pretty tight once upon a time."

"Things change. People too."

Rough nodded. "But in your case Luke, I think Margaret had a lot to do with it, don't you?'" Rough was referring to Lucas' late wife. Margaret had passed away when Mark was barely six. As a widower, Lucas was raising his son alone.

Lucas nodded. "Perhaps," he replied softly. "Or maybe I just decided it was time I grew up."

The men talked for a spell while Mark listened. He enjoyed hearing about his father's past. As Rough told them stories of Lucas' younger days all three men laughed.

"I still remember when your Pa traded in his Colt for that fancy rifle he designed." Rough said pointing to the Winchester propped up against the table. "You're Pa was always good at metal work."

Lucas stared down at the rifle. The pin and loop set up allowed it to be cocked and fired in one smooth move.

"First time he tried to use that quick action trigger he blew a hole in Ned Preston's roof. That old man nearly took Luke's hide off that day."

Lucas laughed. "He was madder than a hornet's nest as I recall."

"It took Luke nearly a week's pay worth of shells and a month of practicing to learn how to fire the darn thing straight let alone hit anything. We used to takes bets on whether he'd end up shooting his foot off first before he finally got the hang of it." Rough sighed with the memory. "Ah, but it sure proved its worth up at the line camp the day you saved Margaret's life, didn't it Luke?"

Mark's head snapped up and his eyes widened. "Really!"

Lucas looked at his friend. His face had lost some of its laughter."Rough, I don't think we need to go into that."

The foreman seemed a little surprised. "You mean you never told him?"

Lucas sighed. "It was a long time ago."

"Don't be so modest."

"Why what happened?" Mark was eager to know.

Lucas looked over at his old friend sternly, but Rough ignored him."Well this was of course before Lucas and your ma got married. You see Mark your Pa was a pretty wild back then. Guess we all were. Anyway, back then Margaret didn't really care for him too much, thought he was too cocky for his own good." Lucas could only nod in agreement.

"But Ma loved ya, didn't she Pa?" Mark asked.

"'Course she did son. What your mother and me had was…very special," he said softly. Mark saw his father's eyes drift off into the past. It was always like that whenever anyone spoke of Mark's mother.

"Until that day though, Mark," Rough went on, "I don't think Margaret took more than a passing glance at your Pa, except maybe to think it should have been on a wanted poster," Rough chuckled. "She was actually going with another fella by the name of Trent."

Mark saw his father's mouth thin in displeasure. He knew that look. His father must have had strong feelings about the man.

"Some folks even said they were plannin' on getting married."

That made Mark sit up straight. Rough smiled coyly. "Ya mean, Pa wouldn't have been, well… my pa?" Mark asked in amazement.

"Possibly." Rough said jokingly.

Mark frowned. He didn't really care much for that idea. "So what happened?" Mark asked anxiously.

Lucas threw Rough a warning glance. Rough cleared his throat and continued cautiously. "Well, let's just say your Pa realized that Trent hadn't always been on the up and up. Lucas had suspected for a while he was stealing cattle from the local ranchers and possibly disguising them under his own brand. When he confronted Trent about it, he of course denied it. But a few days later Trent ended up killing a friend of ours while trying to cover up his tracks. For Margaret's sake Luke tried to bring Trent in peaceful but he'd refused and managed to escaped." Rough was watching Lucas closely and chose his words carefully. "Everyone thought he'd left the area for good but a few weeks later, Trent came back and took Margaret. When Lucas found out, he felt responsible and went after her."

"Really?"

Lucas nodded solemnly.

"He had trailed Trent for several days before catching up with him at an old line shack up in woods. Your Pa tried everything he could to talk Trent into letting Margaret go and giving himself up. You see, your Pa and Trent used to be close friends once and he still hoped that friendship would make Trent come to his senses. But Trent refused. By then he was a little touched in the head and blamed Lucas for turning Margaret against him. When she tried to escape, your pa was forced to use that rifle that day to stop Trent from shooting her. After that, well Margaret really started looking at your pa in a different light."

Rough laughed. "They were married two years later. The day your ma agreed to be Lucas' wife was one of the happiest days of his life."

They sat quietly for the longest time. Lucas watched Mark's face closely. His son thought long and hard then eventually looked up at his father. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" Mark asked.

Lucas sighed. "Son, some things are just hard to explain without stirring up a lot of painful memories. That day was one of them and I'd like to leave it at that, okay?"

"Sure Pa, I understand."

Deciding the mood had become a little too serious, Rough changed his tactics and started telling Mark some other stories about his father. When the tales became a little too wild for even Lucas to believe, he eventually brought the conversation to a close. "Time to turn in Mark."

Mark looked disappointed. "Can't I stay up a little while longer Pa? I want to hear more."

Lucas shook his head. "I think you've heard more than enough for one night. Besides we need to get an early start in the morning. In case you've forgotten, we've got a ranch to run. There's a lot of work piling up back home. You go ahead. I'll be along shortly."

"Yes Pa." Mark rose. "Goodnight Micah, Mr. Collins." Mark headed across the compound towards the tent Rough had set them up in. The two men that normally used it were currently away.

"Marshal, you're welcomed to bunk in with me. I've got a cot I can set up for you."

"Sounds good to me."

Rough left with Micah to show him where he could bed down for the night.

Lucas took the opportunity to walk out into the evening air. Extracting a cigar from his pocket, he lit it then leaned back against a tall pine tree caught up in the memories of the past.

"Luke? Luke?"

It was several seconds before he realized Rough had walked up and was talking to him.

"You look like you were a thousand miles away."

Lucas sighed. "Guess I was," he said softly. He stared across the compound to the tent Mark had disappeared into. Rough seemed to read Lucas' thoughts.

"Amazing how much he resembles Margaret, isn't it?"

Lucas nodded. As a matter of fact it was. While Lucas had sandy light hair and pale blue-green eyes, his son had inherited Margaret's dark chestnut hair and soft brown eyes. He also had Margaret's mouth, wide and cheerful and full of expression. It was nearly six years since he'd lost her to the fever. Mark was now twelve. He'd resigned himself to her loss and had moved on trying to make a good life for he and the boy. "Every day and in so many ways."

"I hope I didn't cause trouble between you and the boy with that story."

Lucas shook his head. "No, it's not that. I try hard not to keep secrets from the boy."

"Thinkin' about Trent."

"Some memories are just harder to let go than others." Lucas looked at the rifle he held in his hand and let out a short grunt. He looked at his long time friend. "This rifle has been both a blessing and a curse. Over the years it's saved the people I cared about the most, but always at a price."

"I wasn't your fault Luke. Trent may have been your friend once but he gave you no choice that night. He would have killed Margaret rather than let anyone else have her. He'd become twisted, wrapped up in own obsession. If he hadn't tried to kill her that day, and she'd married him, he would have killed her spirit eventually."

"I know." There was a long silence as Lucas thought about the past. Despite all that had happened Margaret had never let it change the kindness in her heart.

"I was surprised to hear you'd left Oklahoma." Rough said at last.

Lucas took a long drag on the cigar. He shrugged. "After Margaret died, well I just didn't see the point in staying. She was gone and there was nothin' left back there to hold me except a lot of painful memories. So I left; didn't even say goodbye to anybody. I just packed up what few things Mark and I had and headed west. Guess you could say I was runnin' away from the past for a while. But I knew I couldn't do that forever. I had my son to think of and I wanted him to have a life." Lucas smiled. "I finally found it in North Fork."

"You really like being a Sodbuster," Rough teased.

"Rancher," Lucas corrected. "And yes, I like it just fine. It feels good to finally plant my feet on solid ground again. And it's good for the boy."

"You're doing a fine job, Luke. He's quite a kid."

"I like to think so. But if you want me to be honest, I think I'd rather face a gunfight half the time over trying to answer some of the questions my son comes up with nowadays."

Rough laughed.

"The hardest job I ever had is trying to be a good father to that boy."

"Doesn't seem like you've done such a bad job, Luke. He's turning into a true McCain."

Lucas laughed. "Don't I know it. That's half my problem." He sighed. "I worry about that sometimes. He's growin' up fast. I don't want him to go down the same path I did."

"From where I'm standing, I don't think it was such a bad way to go."

Lucas looked at his friend. "You know what I mean. I made a lot of mistakes in my younger days." Lucas gripped the rifle. "I don't want Mark to fall into the pitfalls I did. Sometimes it's pretty hard to climb back out in one piece." He looked down at the rifle and sighed. "And, I don't ever want Mark to know what it's like to have to kill a friend. He sees me with this thing and tries to put me on a pedestal. But I'm just a man."

"Not in his eyes, Luke. To him, you're his world. Don't try and run away from it. I know of folks around here that would kill to have the relationship you have with that boy, me included. That's gotta tell you something about what kind of father you are to him."

"He is somethin' all right."

"He's your son and he has to deal with your reputation just like you do."

"But he's also Margaret's. She put up with a lot more than most women deserve and never complained once," he said softly. As always, whenever he spoke of his late wife it was with fondness. But Margaret had that way about her.

"She'd be proud of you, Luke, I know she would."

Lucas finished his cigar and looked up at the night sky which was clear and filled with stars. "Well I'd better be turning in myself. We've got an early start in the morning."

The two men said there goodnights. Lucas started to walk across the compound but stopped. He turned around to his friend. "Thanks, Rough."

Rough just nodded his head, then turned away and headed for his own bunk.

Lucas retired to the tent where Mark was already fast asleep. Clutched in his hand was the Indian rattle snake charm Billy Whitefeather had given him. Lucas adjusted the blanket over his son and stared down at him with a smile on his face. As long as he had his son, he would always have a little piece of Margaret.