Nathan considered himself lucky. He had survived moments alone with a flirtatious Margaret. She was still in his heart, and it scared him to death.

He barely slept that night pondering the consequences of his actions had she gotten her way. Just what the hell did she mean by--she'll keep in touch? Was she talking--letters from London, or was she planning on staying in Sweet Springs for a time?  His brain ached from thinking. He loved Grace and had no intentions of leaving her and the baby. Being alone with Margaret can't happen ever again. 

Baby Margaret interrupted his thoughts....

"Oh no! Pearl, take her," he said, almost spilling his coffee.

"Mr. Nate, for heaven sakes, it's only a little spit-up," Pearl said.  Grace chuckled.

"A little? It's not funny. Now I have to go back up and change my shirt." Pearl took the baby and Nate pushed away from the breakfast table.

 "I'll take her, Pearl.  You reheat his food."

"No. I have to be going," he said.

"Honey, you've barely eaten."

" I'll get something at Old Man Tucker's place. Miss Lucy is always trying to feed me when I go out there."

He hurried up the staircase, squinting at the sight of the thick white slime and holding the shirt away from his body with his thumb and index finger, as if the spit-up were acid and eating through to his skin.

"See what you did to Daddy," Pearl said to Baby Margaret--wiping the corners of her little mouth.

"That's what he gets for thinking she's too precious to sit in her high chair."

"Now, Miss Grace, you leave him alone.  Most fathers are like that about their first child, especially if it's a girl."

Grace shook her head and sipped her coffee.  After a few minutes, Nathan bounced down the stairs, still tucking in his shirt and headed for the kitchen. He kissed Grace and little Margaret on the lips, turned and hurried towards the front door.

"Have a wonderful day, Mr. Nate."

"Thank you, Pearl."

Outside, Joseph waited patiently.  He stood at attention--flawlessly dressed in dark brown riding pants and double-breasted suit jacket with two rows of gold colored buttons from shoulder to waist; he wore a matching  hat with a short black bill, shiny black knee-high boots, and white gloves. With medical bag in hand, Nathan walked to the limousine where Joseph held open the door.

"Morning Mr. Nate," Joseph said, with a beaming smile.

"Good morning, Joseph."

Nathan eased onto the back seat.  Joseph banged the door closed and walked briskly around to the driver's side--got in and started the car.  While the engine roared, Nate spotted Grace waving from the doorway and blew her a kiss as the 1926, black and grey Cadillac sped off under a beautiful, blue and sunny sky.

"Where to first, Sir?"  Nathan was already looking over his today's schedule.  He had told Pearl the night before to fill Joseph's lunch basket, because they had a long day ahead of them and would be covering a lot of ground:  from Abalene Springs--clear across to Rooster Creek.

"We'll start at Old Man Tuckers' place," Nate said. "He has a sick calf. Plus, he wants me to check his old hound dog, Chester."

Joseph veered off to the left--heading to Abalene Springs.

"Next, is Ted Baker's place," Nate said, "then Bob Beans' farm;  I got a cattle check-in at the JT Ranch: Then, some minor stops before heading home; Miss Millie's Mule, Tom Beckle's cat; and little Jenny's spaniel is well overdue for its litter."

"Whew!  I see why my basket is so heavy. You think you can get all that done in just one day, Mr. Nate?"

"Sure. It's not as much as it sounds. Most of the people around here take very good care of their animals. All they're usually suffering from is a little stress, fatigue, or just plain overweight. If I told Jim Tucker once, I've told him a hundred times to stop feeding that dog from the table."

Joseph laughed. "He sure loves that mangy hound."

"I'm afraid he's going to love him to death one of these days," Nate said.

He continued looking over his schedule as Joseph entertained him with beautifully whistled church hymns. The sun beamed as a flock of tiny birds flew into the pale blue sky in a V formation. Twenty minutes into the journey, the roar of the engine softened as the Cadillac pulled into Tucker's farm. The savory scent of fried bacon and strong coffee hung in the air.

The door flew open and  Miss Lucy, Tucker's wife, greeted Nathan with a wide smile, and had flour all the way up to her elbows. She was a short,  bulky woman, with sun-tanned skin and soft blue eyes. She kept her mixed grey and red hair up in a bun. Her worn grey dress was covered with a navy blue waist apron that was streaked with flour.

"Good morning, Miss Lucy."

"Jim!" she yelled, "Doc Daniels is here. Come on in, honey, and just sit on over there at the table and eat something."

"Why, thank you, Miss Lucy. I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning."

"Now, don't you worry none about that. Miss Lucy gon' feed you right nicely."  She stuck her head out the window,  "Jim, the doc's here!" She turned and gestured  to him. "Now you just help yourself to some hot biscuits. I got another mess of  'em in the oven."

"This is awfully nice of you, Maam. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, darlin', Jim!" She yelled at the top of her voice.

"I'm coming, Woman,  keep you bloomers on, will ya'." Old man Tucker slowly walked into the kitchen with a bloated Chester waddling behind him--his long ears and jowls nearly touching  the floor.  After greeting Nathan warmly, Jim said...

"Sorry, Doc, I didn't hear you drive up. I was a foolin' around dare in the barn."

"How's the calf doing? Is it any worse?" Nate asked.

"Oh, it's about the same. Not nursing his mother. I been bottle feedin' em' though."

"Well, that little critter can keep. You sit down, now and eat your breakfast," Miss Lucy said.

"Yes, honey," Jim answered. Then he whispered, "She's the bossiest damn woman I ever did know." 

Nathan chuckled. 

On the table were platters of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, a large bowl of spiced apple sauce, a small bowl of grape jam and a basket of biscuits soaked with sweet home-made butter. A large pot of coffee bubbled over on the iron stove.

The men sat and ate, while Miss Lucy fussed over them,  and Chester stood over in a far corner farting and eating pork sausage and jam-smeared biscuits.

Meanwhile--miles away, on the balcony of Big Tom Wainwright's estate, stood a radiant Margaret all decked out in a long, pink, French lace negligee.  She made it no secret to her intimate friends that she had made a mistake in marrying the Duke.  Appearing to be in deep thought, she stared out over her father's wealthy spread as far as her twinkling brown eyes could see: Her pale cheeks--flushed and her pink lips in a sensuous pout.

But, back at Ten Oakes, a confident Grace counted her blessings; she had married the man of her dreams, overcome miscarriages, and reveled in the tender moments spent with her miracle baby daughter. In a weekly letter to her Mother, Grace expressed just how happy she and Nathan were--unaware that a scheming Duchess had other plans for her handsome husband.