For personal and select distribution only © November 1999
by Pam Hunter

Chapter 1

Michaela carefully placed the steaming casserole dish back into the oven and then stood upright, arching her back to ease the stiffness and tiredness. It had been a long day. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen mantle. Katie was due home any minute. She began to delve into cupboards and drawers for utensils with which to set the table for supper.

A few minutes later there was a clumping on the homestead steps and the front door abruptly swung open. "Mama …. Mama …," called the young girl, a wad of paper clasped in her hand.

"Over here sweetheart," Michaela replied, her heart warming at the sight of her beautiful daughter.

Katie rushed across the room waving the papers in her hand. "Mama …. I got an A …. an A!" she exclaimed. "Mr Hughes said it was the best work I’ve done all year." She handed the graded assignment to her mother before wrapping her arms around her waist.

"That’s wonderful Katie, I’m proud of you," rejoined Michaela, returning the hug. "I knew you had it in you." She kissed the honey blond head, fleetingly realising that she no longer had to bend very far to do so. As Katie strode into the living-room and dropped her school books on the floor, Michaela watched her indulgently. The child had experienced problems at school. She seemed unable to concentrate. There was no doubt that she was very bright, but her work never seemed to reflect her potential. Michaela had begun to wonder whether her view of her daughter’s abilities had been coloured by the love she held for her, until Patrick Hughes, the new school-master, arrived in town. He had very quickly realised that there was more to eight year old Katie Sully than what she managed to produce for him to grade. Under his tutelage her studies had been improving leaps and bounds.

Katie came back into the kitchen and picked up the small collection of plates and cutlery from the kitchen table. "Is Brian gonna be home for supper?" she asked her ma, carrying the utensils into the living-room.

"He was hoping to be, but he’s trying to get this issue of the Gazette printed tonight so he doesn’t have to go in quite so early in the morning," replied Michaela. "He said to start without him …. He’ll be here as soon as he can get away …"

Katie nodded. "Just us then ma," she murmured softly. "Supper sure smells good."

Michaela smiled at her daughter and prepared to serve up their meal.

Katie sat up in the chair next to Michaela kicking her legs against the chair legs as she’d been wont to do ever since she was a baby in her high chair. "This is good ma," she muttered between bites.

"Mmmmm ….. Mr Bray kept a lean piece of mutton aside for me before he ran out," replied Michaela. "He brought it over just before I closed the clinic." In reply, Katie looked up at her mother expectantly. Michaela chuckled. "And yes …. he did give me some candy for you …. as long as you eat all your supper." Katie smiled broadly and immediately delved in with even more relish. There was silence while the two of them consumed their hot meal. It had been unexpectedly cold this November and the hot food and blazing fire in the living-room helped to dispel the chill. As Katie placed her knife and fork down neatly together on her empty plate, the door again swung open and Brian entered.

"Hey ma …. Katie," he greeted. "Sorry I’m late but I got all of tomorrow’s edition printed." He held up ink-stained hands. "Had trouble with the press though. I’ll haveta talk to Miss Dorothy about it …. Maybe we can afford to buy a newer, bigger one now …"

Michaela smiled at his enthusiasm. "Well why don’t you wash up and I’ll dish out some hot mutton stew …. How does that sound?" she offered.

"Sounds great ma …. I’m starvin’," her son replied, heading for the back of the house.

As Brian sat down and began to enjoy his stew, Katie suddenly turned to her ma and said excitedly, "Ma … I forgot …. Miss Grace was wondering if it’d be alright for me to stay with her an’ Ellen tomorrow night …. while Robert E’s in Pueblo …."

Michaela regarded her daughter sceptically. "You didn’t ask?" she inquired a little sternly.

"No …. I promise," replied Katie sincerely. "Miss Grace said her an’ Ellen’d be glad of the company cos Robert E aint comin’ back til next Wednesday …."

"Isn’t," rejoined Michaela automatically.

Katie dropped her head a little. "*Isn’t* comin’ back til Wednesday," she reiterated. Her face suddenly brightened in anticipation. "Can I?"

"Wellll ….."

"Please …."

Michaela glanced across at her amused son and smiled. "Very well …. but you’re not to be a nuisance …. and you make sure you do everything Grace tells you ….."

"I will ma," promised the excited young girl. "Me an’ Ellen gonna play doctors …."

"You are?"

"Uh huh ….. I’m the doctor an’ she’s the patient …."

Michaela chuckled. "Is she always the patient ….. or do you take it in turns?"

Katie looked a little sheepish.

"You’re always the doctor hmmm?" Michaela surmised.

Her daughter nodded and Michaela chuckled again. "You just make sure you’re playing fair …. alright? She’s younger than you …. so you have to be more grown up."

Katie nodded again. "I’ll be fair ma," she said contritely.

Brian and Michaela did the dishes while Katie completed her homework at the living-room table and then they all retired to sit by the fire. "I’ll cut some more wood first thing tomorrow ma," said Brian. "Looks like its gonna be a cold winter."

Michaela nodded her thanks. She observed her youngest son as he sat himself opposite his little sister at the chess table and cajoled her into playing with him. He’d grown up so much in the last few years. He’d had to! Despite their problems, she’d insisted that he continue his education, and last year he’d graduated top of his class in journalism from his Denver college. She’d thought, even dreaded, that he would take a position with a large newspaper somewhere, perhaps even back east. Instead he’d returned to Colorado Springs and taken over the Gazette from Dorothy who’d decided to hand over its day to day operation. His lively reporting and sensitive, yet challenging editorials had increased circulation considerably (aided by the fact that new settlers continued to flood into the area). Perhaps he and Dorothy really could afford to expand now.

Michaela had one of her newest medical texts open on her knee but was having little success concentrating on it. This was often the case nowadays. Usually she would force herself to pay attention, but tonight she couldn’t settle to it and allowed her thoughts to focus on the two children seated at her feet. What would she have done without them?!

At last Brian yawned, stretched and stood. From his considerable height, he peered down at his little sister. "Time for bed I reckon," he said, reaching out his hand. Katie took it reluctantly. She’d learned that her brother could be as stern as her ma when he wanted to be. He hauled her to her feet and she sidled over to almost sit on her mother’s lap. She grinned at Michaela. Katie could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, but this particular tactic was an old one her mother knew well. "Goodnight Katie," she said immediately. "I’ll be up to read you a story in a little while." Katie nodded resignedly and headed for the stairs. Brian bent and kissed his mother on the cheek affectionately. "Night ma," he said softly. "Don’ stay up too long." Michaela nodded and he too strode towards the staircase.

Michaela stared into the flames after the children had gone, as silence gradually settled on the homestead. A silence she’d come to hate. She stood, shook herself and headed upstairs. She’d never be forgiven if she forgot Katie’s story.

A half hour later she once again descended the stairs to the living-room. She wandered into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, leaving the pot off the heat, and then proceeded to extinguish the lamps - all those except the two either side of the fireplace. She placed her coffee cup on the mantle and stooped to stir up the flames. As they once again leapt to life she stood and picked up her cup, taking a careful sip of the hot beverage. Her eyes alighted on a silver-framed photograph. She picked it up and the now so familiar band suddenly constricted around her heart, making it difficult to breath. Why did it still feel like this, so raw, after all this time?

She clasped the photograph to her breast and backed away from the fireplace to her chair which she dropped into wearily. Through eyes blurred by so many nights of tears, she peered at the captured image of her wedding day, the happiest day of her life. She lovingly ran her fingertip over the two central figures, she and Sully. Sully! And as they had so often during the last four years, tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks. How could it be four years? Sometimes it felt as if it was just yesterday and other times it seemed so long ago that memories blurred and ran into each other. Four long, sad years!

She’d never dreamt when he set out on that particular trip south for Welland Smith, that what she’d always dreaded would actually come to pass. For days after he was due home she’d waited, praying that something had simply arisen to delay him. But when the days turned into more than a week and there was no word from him, she knew something was seriously wrong. And then came the weeks, months of searching - every road, trail, stream and river between Colorado Springs and Santa Fe. So many of the townsfolk had joined her in her quest, even after most of them believed him to be d…. gone. Even Welland Smith himself had journeyed out from Washington to join the search. Matthew and Brian had stayed with her all through those long torturous days, until, after more than three months, they’d finally convinced her that it was no use. He was gone. No-one knew where … or when …. just that he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

Even now she felt guilty. The thought that they could have missed him, that he could’ve been laying out there somewhere hurt, dying, preyed constantly on her mind. For years she’d had nightmares where she’d see his broken body lying by the roadside and he’d call plaintively out to her but she didn’t hear him and rode on. Thankfully, the dreams were abating now. Maybe she was finally accepting that he was lost to her forever. She took a deep breath. No, she could never accept that. One day she’d discover what had happened to him. She was certain of it.

With her eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace she recalled those initial awkward, depressing months when she’d finally returned to town and tried to pick up her life and medical practice. In the main, the townspeople had been kind and supportive, especially those she and Sully had counted amongst their friends. There had also been a few surprises. Loren and Hank in particular, had, from the day she’d returned to the clinic, tried to make her days easier, quietly helping whenever and where ever they could. Dorothy and Cloud Dancing too, had been wonderful - helping with the children, offering a shoulder to cry on when she thought she couldn’t go on.

She recalled with embarrassment the numerous times she’d swung around with excitement expecting to see Sully, as someone pushed the clinic door open, and the expressions of pity on those faces when she couldn’t hide her disappointment. Over the years she’d schooled herself to take a deep breath before turning to the door so as not to elicit the same reaction. Of course, if she wasn’t concentrating it could still happen, as it had just the other day, much to Jake’s dismay.

She was also aware of the gossiping that had gone on over the years amongst the townspeople, her patients - the stories that Sully couldn’t cope and had just up and left - after all he’d done it once before hadn’t he? She swiped at the tears streaming down her face. Despite the scandal mongers, never once, in more than four years, had she ever doubted Sully. Not once! He’d told her she was his heartsong and although she may not have told him often enough, he was also hers.

And now she was alone. Yes there were the children, her wonderful, loving children who had given her so much during the past four years. Colleen and Andrew, who had returned to Colorado Springs from back east as soon as they heard the news and decided to stay and work with her in her practice. Matthew, who had been constantly at her side, supporting her, all the while continuing his law studies. Brian, who’d had to grow up in such a short space of time and was now a young man with a college degree and an occupation to which he was born. And her darling Katie, who had been too young to fully understand what had happened to her pa. Watching her was bittersweet to Michaela. As she’d grown older she’d become more and more like Sully. She had his wavy, honey coloured hair, so many of his mannerisms and, much to her ma’s delight, his humanity. Added to that, she loved the outdoors and all its creatures, large and small. She’d also become proficient at horse-riding and unless watched could be a little reckless when it came to adventures in the woods. She was indeed her mother’s pride and joy. How Michaela wished that Sully could see how beautiful their daughter had become. He would’ve been so proud.

She hugged the wedding photograph to her chest. Yes, she loved her children with all her heart, but she *longed* for Sully. She longed to be held by him, to feel his strong arms around her, his callused, loving hands on the nape of her neck, his muscled body solid against hers. She longed to have him beside her, advising her when she needed advice, challenging her when she was too stubborn, but all the while standing beside her, supporting her. A sob caught in her throat. People had advised her the pain would ease in time. Her mother, who’d journeyed out from Boston and spent many months with the family in that first year, had assured her that she would soon be able to cope, that she would soon be able to close her eyes and not see him, to speak of him without this pain which paralysed her. But she was still waiting. ‘Til death us do part’, the reverend had said, but even after death he was a part of her. He dwelled always in her heart, and memories of their relatively brief life together filled her.

Chapter 2

Michaela drove the wagon slowly through Colorado Springs towards the clinic. There had been many changes to the sleepy frontier town during the past few years. As she drew the wagon to a halt in front of the livery, she gazed proudly at the shopfront next to the bank which bore a brass shingle with the insignia of the scales of justice and underneath, the legend, Matthew Cooper, Attorney At Law. She waved to Stephen Monroe, the manager of the Second Bank of Denver which had taken over Preston’s old premises. For a bank manager, Stephen was a likeable fellow who’d taken to seeking out her company. She’d made it plain to him that she could only offer friendship, and surprisingly he seemed to have accepted her decision.

Katie clambered down from the wagon and quickly moved to the back to retrieve her bag which held her school books and a change of clothes. Michaela glanced through to Grace’s café which was now covered with a sturdy roof and walls and bore a stylish sign out front. She waved as Grace appeared and walked quickly towards them.

"Mornin’ Dr Mike ….. Katie darlin’," she remarked jovially. "Lovely mornin’ aint it?"

Michaela smiled. "Yes it is Grace," she replied. "I hope Katie didn’t ask if she could stay with you tonight …"

Katie groaned. "Oh ma …… I told ya I didn’t."

Grace chuckled. "*I* asked *her* ….. me an’ Ellen like her company while Robert E’s away."

"Have you heard from him?" inquired Michaela.

"Just a short note yesterday. He’s real busy. With all the new settlers comin’ into Colorado the Commission’s workin’ all the time. I don’ think he realised how much time it was gonna take when he accepted the job for the town," replied Grace. Then she suddenly smile proudly. "He’s good at it though …. had a good teacher."

Michaela smiled wanly, knowing immediately to whom Grace referred. She picked up the reins. "I’d better get to the clinic ….. we’re busy too these days," she said quietly. "Thanks Grace…… and Katie, don’t you be a nuisance …."

Katie gave another groan and then suddenly gave her ma a bright, forgiving smile.

Michaela flicked the reins and the wagon once again rumbled forward. Albert Levinson was sweeping out the mercantile as she passed. He was a great help to Loren whose limbs and back had been gradually stiffening with arthritis. He nodded a greeting and went back to his sweeping. She rounded the corner and pulled up in front of the clinic. She glanced across at the Gold Nugget. Sully wouldn’t recognise it now. Finally it was showing a profit, and just last year Hank had contractors add another storey. Inside was a curved staircase and a chandelier. She smiled wryly. The saloon had come a long way! Strangely, she was missing Hank. What would Sully have to say about that! The barkeep had been away for more than two weeks, travelling further south. He’d made contact with an investor who was interested in building a new hotel in one of the smaller frontier towns, utilising Hank’s expertise. She thought he was due home today or tomorrow. He, of all people, seemed to understand her pain. She never felt as if she had to make excuses when she was with him.

She jumped down from the wagon, picked up her black medical bag and entered the clinic.

***********************************

Startled from the patient record on which she was working, Michaela’s head flew up as the knocking was repeated. "Come in," she called, glancing up at the clinic clock.

Loren entered, smiling broadly. "Just headin’ over to Grace’s for some lunch," he said invitingly. "Wanna join me?"

Michaela smiled. "Thanks Loren …. but Stephen’s taking me to lunch today," she replied.

Loren’s eyebrows rose. "He is huh?" he said speculatively. "You two gettin’ serious?"

Michaela blushed. "Of course not," she replied immediately. "I … I …."

"Its alright Dr Mike …. only teasin’," Loren interjected, saving her from having to explain her and Stephen’s uncomplicated relationship. "Just wanna see ya happy is all," he said softly. "I’ll probably see ya over there then huh?" When Michaela nodded he doffed his hat and quietly left.

Michaela sighed. She knew he meant well but nobody seemed to understand. She stood, straightened her skirt and patted at her hair and then reddened self-consciously. She was acting like a schoolgirl, even though she firmly believed that she was incapable of having any sort of relationship with Stephen other than the easy one they now both enjoyed. Another sharp rap on the door signalled his arrival and she went to welcome him, a smile on her face. She pulled the door open and was startled to see Hank on the doorstep, his carpetbag still grasped firmly in his hand. "Hank!" she exclaimed. "Welcome home." She was taken aback to see that his face did not broaden into its customary almost mocking smile.

"Ah …. I need ta see ya Michaela," he said without preamble.

"Are you ill?!" she immediately exclaimed, stepping back so that he could enter the clinic before her.

He strode through the door, walked to the middle of the room and turned to regard her agitatedly. "Nah …. I aint sick …. but I gotta speak to ya …. in private …"

"What’s wrong Hank? You haven’t even been across to the hotel to dispose of your bag," asked Michaela anxiously. "Are you in trouble?"

"Nah … I aint ….," he replied impatiently. He looked around the room. "You got an appointment due? An’ where’re Colleen an’ Andrew?"

"No, no appointments ….. Stephen’s coming any minute to go to Grace’s with me for lunch ….. and I expect the others to arrive back about one …." she replied, puzzled by Hank’s unusual behaviour.

"Could ya maybe put Monroe off," Hank asked, an uneasy edge to his voice. "I really do need ta speak to ya …. without interruptions."

"I wish you’d tell me what this is about," rejoined Michaela, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. "But if its really necessary I’ll go and tell him I can’t make it. Alright?"

Hank nodded with relief. "I’ll take my bag over to the Nugget an’ meet ya back here in a coupla minutes."

Michaela nodded and without another word left the clinic and headed for the bank. Stephen was disappointed about lunch but understood that a doctor’s life never ran to the clock. As she returned and stepped up onto the clinic porch, Hank suddenly appeared from the direction of Grace’s. "I thought you were going over to the hotel ….," she accused.

"I did," he replied. "Then I took a chance to see someone I needed ta see," he added a little angrily. He turned the doorhandle and pushed the clinic door open. "Come on …. we need to talk." Michaela followed him into the clinic and was puzzled when he started looking around and then sighed frustratedly. "Aint there somewhere more comfortable to sit than each side of the desk?" he demanded. "An’ ya better lock the door ….. I don’ want anyone interruptin’."

Michaela’s back stiffened. "I object to being addressed that way," she said heatedly. "You barge in here ….. and demand that I cancel lunch and then you start ordering me around. This will be quite comfortable enough." She sat herself at her desk, folded her arms and eyed him angrily.

The rigidity suddenly went out of Hank. His shoulders sagged and he regarded her sheepishly. "Sorry Michaela," he said contritely. "Only its kinda important ….. I bin stewin’ on it all the way home …. an’ I guess I got a little agitated." Much to Michaela’s dismay he then walked across and locked the clinic door. He turned back to her. "I really *do* need to speak to ya in private."

He slumped into the chair opposite her and ran his hands through his long, curly hair. "Don’ where ta start," he murmured uneasily.

"From the beginning would help," advised Michaela with increasing interest.

Hank nodded and then his eyes met hers. "Ya know I bin down south of here …. talkin’ hotels with a fella called Burkhart?"

"Uh huh."

"Well …. we ended up in a little town called Paynesville …. ‘bout a hundred miles south west of Santa Fe. Still pretty rough …. but growin’ …. like we did a few years back …. That’s why Burkhart figured maybe its time ta build a new hotel there ….." Hank’s brow creased as if he was trying to gauge whether she was really listening. She nodded and gave him her full attention. He took a deep breath. "Well … last day there …. we was havin’ lunch in this dinin’ room attached to the town’s guesthouse ….. an’ ….. an …."

"And?" prompted Michaela.

"Well ….. I can’t be sure …. fact is, the further I got from that place the more doubtful I got …. but ….."

"But what Hank?" demanded Michaela.

"Well ….. he was sittin’ ‘bout two tables over ….. eatin’ lunch …. on his own …. an’ …."

Michaela’s heart was beginning to pound. "And what Hank," she reiterated, this time more sensitively, almost warily.

Hank’s brow creased again, as if he wished he’d never raised the subject. "It was Sully Michaela …. He looked kinda different ….. but I reckon it was him," he finally blurted out.

Michaela’s skin abruptly lost all its colour and she clutched at her heart. "No!" she exclaimed disbelievingly. "Not after all this time!" She was having trouble gaining her breath and her hands were clenching and unclenching. She grasped the edges of her desk and tried to breath normally. Hank was at a loss. He looked desperately around and then hurried to pour her a glass of water from the pitcher which stood beside the examination table. He held it out to her. She reached for it but her hands were shaking too much to grasp it. He hurried around to her side of the desk and squatted down beside her. "I’m sorry Michaela … I didn’ know what to do about it …. I never got a chance to speak to ‘im …. the stage was leavin’ …. Maybe it wasn’t him but it sure looked like him." He placed his arm around her shoulders as she began to shake. He held the glass to her lips. "Here …. drink some of this …." She did so, automatically, but still couldn’t control the shaking. "Maybe I shouldna said anything," he muttered under his breath.

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently. "I’d never forgiven you if you hadn’t!" Although her face was still ashen, her shaking started to subside and Hank could already see the wheels spinning. "What if it was him?" she mused. "After all this time …. Why would he be down there?"

Hank shrugged his shoulders. "I coulda bin wrong …." He stood and quickly moved to the door, unlocked it and beckoned to the young man waiting on the bench outside.

Matthew entered the clinic and upon seeing his mother in such distress moved to her side and wrapped his arms round her shoulders. "Ma?" he said worriedly. He looked accusingly at Hank. "What’re you bin sayin’ to her? Why’d ya ask me to come over here?"

Hank swallowed, but before he could reply Michaela said, with a new tinge of excitement in her voice, "Hank saw Sully Matthew."

"Hey … hey …. I said I *thought* I saw Sully …. Might notta been him," Hank objected. "Now don’ go gittin’ ya hopes up too much …."

"What did ya expect Hank?" demanded Matthew scathingly. "You know how hard its bin for her."

"Hey don’ start in on me Matthew …. I didn’ haveta say anythin’ ….. just felt it was the right thing to do," the barkeep responded cuttingly.

Matthew looked a little sheepish. "Yeah …. You’re right ….." He gave his ma a loving hug and then redirected his gaze to Hank. "What made ya think it was Sully?" he asked more soberly.

"Apart from the fact he was a dead ringer …. it was the way he sat …. an’ the way he mopped up his gravy with his bread …. I seen him do that a hundred times at Grace’s …"

"That’s hardly concrete evidence Hank," commented Matthew.

"Now don’ go puttin’ on that lawyer hat Matthew …. I known Sully for a lotta years an’ I reckon it was him ….," Hank insisted. "That’s why I worried ‘bout it all the long trip home."

"Alright …. supposing it was Sully …. where exactly did ya see him?" conceded Matthew.

"Place called Paynesville …. south west of Santa Fe …. near Mt Taylor," replied Hank.

Interrupting the discussion between the two men, Michaela suddenly asked soulfully, "Why hasn’t he come home?"

The two men exchanged worried glances. Finally Matthew replied reassuringly, "Don’ know ma ….. we don’ even know its really him …. He’s a lot further south than where he was goin’ for Welland Smith."

"Maybe he meant to be," muttered Hank under his breath.

"No!" exclaimed Michaela vehemently. "I won’t believe that …. ever!"

There was silence for a minute and then Hank suggested determinedly, "Well …. I reckon I oughta go back …. See if I can find him an’ find out for sure …"

"No, *I’m* going," Michaela suddenly decided, just as determinedly.

"You aint goin’ on your own ma ….. this fella coulda just bin travellin’ through on the way to somewhere else …. Findin’ him aint gonna be easy," Matthew warned. "Think I better go with ya."

"But what about your law practice Matthew? …. You can’t pack up and leave when you’re just starting to get established," retorted Michaela worriedly.

"All I’ve got on in the next week or so are a coupla of probate cases an’ they can wait," replied Matthew decisively. "I’m goin’ with ya."

"Still think I should go," advised Hank. "At least I know a little about the area an’ a couple of the folk who live around there. Reckon I’ll go with ya anyways."

"Are you sure Hank? You’ve only just arrived back," said Michaela, allowing him the opportunity to back out if he wanted to.

"No … I’m goin’ …. Jimmy can look after the Nugget for a little longer …. Matthew … you better go see Horace ….. find out when the next stage for Flagstaff leaves Santa Fe …. they don’ run too regular … an’ git him ta book us three seats on the next train south …."

Matthew nodded and headed out of the clinic at speed.

Michaela slumped back in her chair. She was so afraid to believe. Was it possible after all this time? Could Sully be alive and living down south? Something just wasn’t right. What would keep him away from his family?

"Well Michaela …. Ya got a lot of organisin’ to do if we’re gonna git away tomorrow or the day after?" smiled Hank, reassuringly. "Come on …. lets git some lunch an’ we’ll make plans."

He held out his hand to her and she took it gratefully. She squeezed it, whispered, "Thank-you" and allowed him to lead her out the clinic door.

*****************************

Joseph Williams placed the damp razor on top of the cupboard and with a ragged towel wiped away any soap residue from his face. He ran his hand over his cheeks and jaw and decided it was good enough. He eyed himself critically in the chipped mirror, and, as he’d done so many times during the last four years, ran his fingers lightly over the scar which ran across his forehead. He tugged at the wavy, honey-coloured hair above his brow, bringing it forward so it covered as much of the scar as possible. Before pulling on his shirt he also fingered the thin white scar on his left shoulder. Doc Evans had told him that a fine surgeon had done the stitching there, as well as on the much larger and deeper wound he’d at some time sustained on his left leg. He shook his head ruefully. Even after all this time it frustrated him to know that he had a past which was a mystery to him. He sighed. Doc had told him it was no use worrying about it, worrying only turned a man inwards. Doc had also said there was a lot to be grateful for, and if he was truthful, that was the case. He was alive wasn’t he?

He shrugged into his shirt, picked up the silver and black wristlet (one of the few remaining mementos of his unknown past) from the cupboard top, placed it around his wrist and set off for work.

Chapter 3

"Paynesville in ten minutes folks," called the stagecoach driver and Michaela’s heart began to pound. Throughout the tiring three day journey her emotions had seesawed almost in synchronisation with the ups and downs of the appalling road conditions. Now, as their stagecoach rapidly neared their destination, she alternated between terror and elation. She was terrified that Hank’s identification of Sully would prove to be incorrect or that they wouldn’t be able to find him, and elated that they were following up the only real lead they’d had to his whereabouts in more than four years. Of course, her mind told her, if it was indeed Sully Hank had seen, then the reasons for his life away from Colorado Springs would have to be explained, and she’d come to the realisation that whatever the reason, it was bound to be painful.

She glanced across at Hank sitting uncomfortably on the brocade stage seat opposite her. He was looking a little grey and often stretched his long legs, trying to ease the aches of the journey. He hadn’t been too bad on the train, as he’d been able to walk up and down the aisle, however the stagecoach offered no such possibilities and during the past couple of hours, since lunch really, she had begun to worry about him. After all, he’d spent six of the last seven days travelling on trains and stagecoaches.

She was terribly tired herself. They’d spent the afternoon and evening before catching the train to Santa Fe poring over maps acquired from Sheriff Miller’s office and the library, in order to acquaint themselves with the area to which they were travelling. Then certain people had to be informed of their quest. She and Matthew decided that only immediate friends and family should be told, and it had been obvious that each was worried about the journey and its possible consequences. Katie had not been told why her ma was going away from a while, just that something important had come up which must be attended to as quickly as possible. Colleen and Andrew were both concerned for her and only too ready to manage the clinic in her absence (she realised ashamedly that they’d been doing that in part ever since Sully’s disappearance). They had also been charged with the responsibility of informing Dorothy and Cloud Dancing of her whereabouts when they returned from the indian conference in Salt Lake.

She stared out into the gloom of a November twilight, musing on what the next few days, weeks, might hold. In the distance she could see flickering lights and realised that they were very near journey’s end, or was it beginning? The stagecoach slowed as it approached the outskirts of Paynesville. She noted that, unlike Colorado Springs, this town was built in a linear fashion, houses and businesses lining the one main road into town. She took a deep breath. They’d arrived!

*********************************

Michaela stepped onto the porch of the Paynesville guesthouse and surveyed the small town and its inhabitants as they went about their daily business this sunny November morning. Ever since Hank had first divulged his momentous information, she’d been telling herself not to build her hopes up too high, that the man the barkeep insisted he’d seen may not be Sully at all, or even if it was, he may not reside in this town. But despite all her good intentions, she was already feeling disappointed. Responses to her questions over breakfast had revealed nothing. No-one at the guesthouse knew of a Byron Sully. She’d ventured across the road to the mercantile and again heard the same response. She looked up to see Matthew striding towards her. As he neared he shook his head and her heart sank.

"Sheriff don’ know of him," he reported succinctly. "Telegraph operator neither. Sorry ma."

Michaela shrugged her shoulders. "Looks like we might need to go further afield. Outlying homesteads and such ….. What do you think?" she said softly.

"Think you’re probably right," the young attorney replied. He nodded as Hank approached. The barkeep had decided to stay in one of the rooms at the saloon, rather than the guesthouse the previous evening. He’d argued that he might learn something from one of the locals at the bar. Michaela regarded him hopefully. He too shook his head. "Not a sign Michaela," he informed her.

She struggled to conceal her disappointment from the others. "Outlying ranches …. properties?" she suggested.

"I reckon," he replied. "We’ll need horses …. I’ll rent ‘em at the livery." He indicated with a nod of his head a building and forge a little way down the long, wide, dusty, main street. "You an’ Matthew stay here …. I’ll be back in a minute." He stepped off the porch and headed purposefully down the street. Michaela shook her head. She’d never have believed a few years ago that Hank, of all people, would become her rock, would take charge without prompting, would care as he did for her welfare. He disappeared from sight into the large barn next to the forge.

Matthew suddenly coughed beside her, interrupting her train of thought. "Ah … ma …. thought I’d go back to the telegraph office …. send some wires home …. Let ‘em all know we’re alright …."

Michaela started guiltily. "Of course Matthew …. I should’ve thought of it. I’ll wait here for you." He nodded, and he too strode off down the street.

Alone once more on the porch, Michaela turned her mind back to watching the various townspeople as they walked and rode the long, dry street of Paynesville. Any one of them could hold the secret to her quest, but how was she to uncover it?

Becky Reed, the daughter of the guesthouse proprietor, appeared from the doorway and walked up to stand beside Michaela. She was carrying a small wooden stool which had one leg broken. "Pretty day, aint it?" she said politely. "Be gittin’ cold soon …. headin’ into winter. You stayin’ long?"

Michaela shrugged her shoulders. "I’m not sure …. This is much warmer for a late fall day than where I come from."

"It is!" exclaimed Becky. "Where *do* ya live?"

"Oh …. a little town ….. not too much different to this ….. Colorado Springs."

"You’re a long ways from home …..," the young woman murmured. She looked out across the street. "Well …. I better be gittin’ this fixed or ma’ll be wonderin’ where I got to ….. nice talkin’ to ya," she said, stepping off the porch and heading in the same direction to that taken earlier by Hank.

Michaela watched her with envy as she walked in a leisurely fashion down the street, her long, dark, curly hair bouncing against her back, her floral muslin swirling around her ankles in the breeze, her only worry being to have a stool fixed for the guesthouse. Oh to be a young girl in her twenties again …. Then she remembered why she, Matthew and Hank were here. When she was in her twenties she hadn’t met Sully, hadn’t fallen in love …. well not really fallen in love. She sighed.

As Becky neared the livery Michaela heard her call to someone. "Joe …. Joe …. are ya there?" There was an answering call and a man strode out from behind the livery buildings and Michaela’s world suddenly stood still. Her heart began to pound and her breath caught in her throat. There he was, walking towards her as he had so many times in the past, with his familiar, casual, rolling gait, his shy, yet sincere, smile. She couldn’t breathe. All colour abruptly faded from her face, all feeling disappeared from her limbs, and she grasped futilely at the porch post. Her mind suddenly spiralled into blackness and she collapsed ingloriously onto the bare boards.

Behind Becky, Joseph saw the stranger on the guesthouse porch suddenly sway, cling to the post, and then fall with a sickening thud. He stood just for a second in shock, and then broke into a run. Upon reaching her, he squatted down, quickly undid the top button of her blouse and pushed aside the silver chain she wore around her neck, to feel for a pulse. Relieved to find that there was one, rapid but strong, he shook her gently and said urgently, "Maam ….. maam …. are you alright?" The woman didn’t stir. He looked up to see Becky standing nervously beside him. She explained worriedly, "Lady came in with two fellas on last night’s stage…. She looked alright a coupla minutes ago."

"Musta bin the travellin’," Joseph suggested, as he slid his arms in under her and lifted her easily from the porch boards. He nodded across the road. "Run down an’ tell Doc I’m bringin’ someone in will ya?" he asked. Becky took off down the street at a brisk pace, followed closely by Joseph, his precious burden carried carefully in his arms.

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Michaela stirred and realised that she was laying on a table in a dimly lit room, a doctor’s surgery. An elderly man hovered over her. She peered up at him dazedly. His metal rimmed spectacles were perched on the very end of his nose and his grey, wiry hair was dishevelled and unfashionably long. He smiled at her as he realised she was waking. "Its alright young lady," he said softly. "You’ll be fine. Just fainted that’s all …" He placed his stethoscope to his ears and positioned the bell on her chest. "Ahh….," he murmured. "Calming down now."

Suddenly reality swept in on Michaela and her heart began to pound all over again. She struggled to sit up. "I’m s..sorry," she stammered. "I don’t remember ever having done that before." She reddened.

"That’s fine …. Becky said you came in on yesterday’s stage …. with a couple of gentlemen …. Perhaps the travelling was too much for you …," he said kindly. He passed her a glass of water. "Here drink this and take a few deep breaths."

She did as he suggested and then once again apologised. "I’m sorry … what must you think of me…." She slipped from the table to her feet and when no dizziness overcame her she gave him a shy, self-effacing smile. She held out her hand. "I’m Dr Michaela Quinn," she said.

"Ahhh …. *Doctor* Quinn …. from back east I’d suggest …though I believe I detect a little west in the accent ….."

"Colorado ….. via Boston," replied Michaela. "My home and practice are in Colorado Springs. Uh ….. I’d better be going …. Thankyou for your care …. What do I owe you?"

Doc Evans chuckled. "On the house Dr Quinn ….. I wish all my cases were as easy …. You better take things quietly for the next few days hmm? How long are you planning on staying?"

Thoughts of Sully flooding her mind, she replied, "I’m not sure." Her eyes dropped to the floor and her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "It all depends …."

"On?"

"On whether I find what I’m looking for," she replied softly, ambiguously.

The old doctor bit his tongue. He dearly wanted to probe, but the distressed woman’s demeanour precluded that …. at least for now. "I hope you do find whatever it is you’re looking for Dr Quinn," said the old doctor kindly. "I hope you do …."

Michaela’s eyes lifted to those of the older man who was regarding her with nothing but compassion. "Please call me Dr Mike," she abruptly asked. "All my friends do ….. and I hope I can visit with you again." She smiled. "Not as my doctor ….. just to talk ….. Would that be alright?"

"I’d enjoy it immensely," replied Doc earnestly. "Its isn’t often I have the opportunity to talk to a beautiful woman who is also a colleague. In fact I don’t ever remember such an occasion." He chuckled. "I’ll look forward to it."

Michaela moved towards the door. "So will I …. Doctor?"

"Its Doctor Evans but my friends just call me Doc." Michaela again smiled at him gratefully. As she placed her hand on the doorhandle, Doc suddenly spoke again. "Ah …. Dr Qu … Dr Mike …. Who is Sully?"

Michaela spun around to face him. "I beg your pardon?" she queried, stunned by the unexpected question.

"You were calling his name when you were coming around."

"Oh!" Michaela exclaimed embarrassedly, then she answered softly. "My husband …"

"I noticed the wedding band. Is he travelling with you?"

"No …. I …. I …." She couldn’t decide what to say. Suddenly she looked the kindly, elderly doctor in the eye and said quietly, "I lost him a few years back …."

"I’m sorry ….. should have kept my mouth shut …. Its a bad habit of mine ….. being inquisitive I mean …."

"Its alright ….. I should be used to it by now …. but I’m not ….." Michaela again rested her hand on the doorhandle, only to swivel back to Doc once more. "Who brought me here?" she asked suddenly.

Doc watched her carefully and then replied, "Joseph ….. Joseph Williams …. he saw you faint …… he was very worried about you ….. I had to shoo him out the door so I could examine you ….."

Michaela nodded, and then her eyes dropped to the floor, she swallowed and said quietly, "If you see him before I do …. please thank him for me …" She finally walked out the door, then paused momentarily to lean against it, trying desperately to regain some equilibrium.

Joseph was busily planing and sanding a table top for the saloon. He’d moved his work table out further from his workshop than usual, on the pretext of gaining some warmth on his back from the weak, fall sun. However, from here he had an excellent view of the surgery door. Doc hadn’t allowed him to stay. He sincerely hoped that the lady was going to be alright. He took a deep breath. He could still smell her. It was the scent of herbs or flowers from her long coppery hair which had trailed over his arms as he’d carried her, and the fresh smell of soap and maybe even a hint of perfume. He shook his head wryly. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t ever hold a place in the world of a sophisticated lady, especially when she learned a little more about him.

He paused in his sanding as the door opened and she walked out, closed the door behind her and then leant against it, her eyes shut. She looked genuinely upset about something. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious. He couldn’t imagine such a beautiful woman being sick. Suddenly he saw two men rush across the road from the guesthouse towards her. The youngest one put his arm around her shoulders and held her hand. He looked too old to be her son, yet there was something about the way he was holding her which led him to believe it to be the case. The taller, older man was watching her face anxiously, as the other two conversed in low tones. He wasn’t saying anything but he looked ready to catch her if she fainted again. He felt a sudden stab through his body of something akin to jealousy and again shook his head ruefully. This was crazy! He abruptly picked up the table top and his tools and headed back into his workshop.

********************************

"I saw him Matthew ….. I swear it …..," exclaimed Michaela for at least the tenth time. "His hair is shorter … and so looks darker …. and the buckskins are gone …. But it *was* him …." With a hint of tears in her eyes, she implored her son to believe her. She leant back as Becky brought coffee cups and a steaming pot of coffee to their table.

"Ma said ya should put plenty of sugar in it," the young woman advised. "An’ I’ll bring out some cake in a minute ….. ma says ya need somethin’ sweet after you’ve fainted." Before any of them could respond she headed back to the kitchen.

Matthew was still shaking his head, unwilling to believe, whether it be for himself or Michaela, only he could say.

"Alright Michaela …. Tell us again where ya saw him," asked Hank matter-of-factly.

"I was waiting for you on the porch here …. just as you said …. and he came walking out from behind the livery ….. Becky called him Joe …," explained Michaela. "When you saw him the other day …. did he look as I described?" She regarded the barkeep hopefully.

Hank sighed. "Yeah …. I’d say what you said fits …. shorter hair …. no buckskins …." He watched Michaela as she shakily raised her coffee cup to her lips. "Look …. we’ve gotta find the answer to this …. Let me go find him …. I’ll see what his story is …"

Michaela, for a moment, looked as if she was about to object, then her shoulders slumped. "You won’t go accusing him of anything? …. You’ll be fair and find out what’s been happening to him?"

Matthew regarded her in astonishment. "You’re gonna let *Hank* go find Sully?" he exclaimed. "Don’ *you* wanna go?"

Michaela swallowed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and said soberly, "Seeing him today like that Matthew was much more of a shock than I’d ever imagined. I *will* definitely see him and speak with him, but I need some time to prepare. Why don’t you go with Hank …. talk to him ….. find out what you can …. I’ll wait here …." A single tear escaped her eye and rolled unchecked down her cheek.

Both men watched anxiously as she strove to gain some control of her emotions. At last Matthew said compassionately, "Alright ma …. we’ll go ….. an’ we’ll take it easy with him …. You wait here." He nodded to Hank who stood and momentarily rested his hand on Michaela’s shoulder.

"You rest a little …. We’ll be back soon …."

Michaela waited until the men had left the guesthouse dining-room and then, with as much dignity as she could muster, stood, straightened her skirts and walked demurely through to the stairs leading to her room. She ran quickly up the steps, clumsily withdrew the key from her reticule, unlocked the room and entered, quickly locking the door behind her. She gulped in air and, as the tears began to tumble down her cheeks, threw herself onto the bed, sobs wracking her body. This was definitely *not* how she was supposed to feel upon finding Sully after all these years!

A Forever Love continued ....