Chapter 35

Dark, waterlogged clouds were building up behind the mountains as Michaela and Sully neared Matthew and Kathleen's homestead in the late afternoon. They had been riding for most of the day and were both tired and hungry. Much to Michaela's surprise, Sully halted his horse just prior to the final bend and slid from its back. He reached up his hand to her indicating that he would like her to do the same. Despite her puzzlement, she reined in and then dismounted from Flash. He at once drew her close and she instinctively melted into his embrace.

His arms held her close, protectively. "Bin an interestin' few days ... aint it?" he whispered against her ear. She nodded and he added, "Thank-you ..."

She peered up at him, her brow creased in puzzlement. "But its me who should be thanking you," she protested. "After all ... many of the people in town thought I was mad going up there to look for Deeg ... but you didn't ..."

He grinned. "Well not really," he teased lovingly.

She smirked. "Alright ... not really," she conceded. "So why would you be thanking me?"

He shrugged and took a small step back. "Just seemed the right thing to do," he remarked ambiguously.

She smiled and closed the small distance between them again. "You're welcome," she said softly, then stood on tiptoes to give him a quick, loving kiss. "Now can we go see the children?" she implored with a smile. "We seem to have been away from them for such a long time."

"Only bin three days ..."

"I know ... but it seems longer than that ... I miss them so ..."

"Me too," he admitted. "William's growin' so quick ... So's Katie ..."

"And I want to give Brian Deeg's journals to read ..."

Sully nodded and then grasped her hand. "Guess we learnt a lot these past few days ... at least I did ...," he remarked.

"So did I ... It made me think ..."

"Mmm ... me too ... Nothin's ever clear cut in a war ... is it?"

She shook her head and gave him a rueful smile. "No its not ... especially when the enemies are so different ... and uninformed about each other ...," she acknowledged. "Perhaps one day we'll  see peace ..."

"Aint gonna be any day soon," he adjured, a touch of bitterness in his tone.

"We can only try to help as we always have ..."

"Don' seem ta achieve much ..."

"Even a little is better than nothing at all ..."

"I know it ..." He gave her a wry smile. "You've told me often enough ..."

"As long as you believe me ..."

"I'm startin' to ... Worked out we can't do everythin' ... Wish we could though ..."

"I know ... Its hard watching what's going on and not being able to significantly alter the outcome ... but we can make some difference ... even if it is very small ..."

Sully nodded. "We gotta try," he averred soberly. "Come on ... let's go see our family ..." He reached for the reins of first his own horse, then Flash, then taking Michaela's hand in his they started towards the new homestead.

Brian was out the door and down the steps before they had even fully rounded the bend. "Ma ... pa ...," he called. "I saw ya from the window ..." Behind him Katie appeared and then carefully but hastily took the few steps to the ground, her face aglow. She rushed into her father's arms while Brian embraced his ma. "Did ya find him ma?" he asked at once. "That Deeg fella?"

"Yes ... we found him," she replied quietly, returning his hug. "But it was too late ... He was too ill ..."

Brian stepped back and peered into his mother's eyes with concern. "What happened? You couldn' help him?" he asked.

Michaela shook her head. "No," she replied slowly. "He was desperately ill ..."

Brian took a deep breath. "At least ya tried," he said reassuringly.

She nodded and then took his hand. "Now tell me what's been happening here ..."

As the four of them made their way to the house where Matthew, Kathleen and William were waiting patiently on the porch, Brian regaled them with his exciting news regarding his article on Red Fox appearing in the Denver Post.

******************
With a barely perceptible nod of his head, Matthew drew Sully away from the others so that they stood by a window through which one could see the rain clouds deepening in colour and density. Matthew immediately flipped the newspaper open to its full size and pointed to the article beneath Brian's.

Sully frowned and then began to read. After a few moments he raised anguished eyes to the younger man's. "When'd this come out?" he queried with dread.

"Day you headed up into the mountains ... Been in the Denver papers each day since ... I got those papers at my office in town ...," he replied sombrely.

Sully glanced across at Michaela, his eyes narrowing as he perceived her delight in being home with the children. He took a deep breath. "Sounds bad," he remarked quietly.

Matthew nodded. "Yeah ... it does ..." He too watched Michaela and Kathleen playing with the children.  "So what are ya gonna do?"

"Guess I'll ride inta town first thing tomorra ... see if there's been any word from Dorothy," Sully mused.

"An' if there aint?"

Sully swallowed deeply, his brow deeply furrowed, his eyes on tiny William sitting happily on his mother's lap.

"You'll wanna go up there," concluded Matthew.

"Gotta make sure they're safe ..."

"I know it ..."

"Gotta see if there's somethin' I can do ... There's bin too much blood spilled already ..."

Matthew nodded in sympathy. "Dr Mike aint gonna like it," he remarked with foreboding.

Sully heaved a sigh. "I don' wanna leave the family again either ... but its somethin' I gotta do ..."

The vehemence in his voice attracted Michaela's attention and her eyes flew to his face. She immediately placed William down by Katie's side and made her way across to them. "Sully?" she queried softly.

Holding his breath, he handed her the newspaper and indicated where she should read. For some moments there was tense silence amongst the three, then Michaela raised distressed eyes to his. "Oh Sully," she murmured. "Those wonderful people ... that beautiful place ..."

"It might not be as bad as it sounds," offered Matthew.

"If the army's gettin' involved ... its bad," rejoined Sully.

"I'm coming with you," said Michaela at once.

Sully's eyes opened wide in startled surprise. "Aint even said I'm goin'," he blustered.

She gazed into his eyes defiantly. "And you're not?" she challenged.

He swallowed. "We talked about this up on the mountain," he said quietly. "We thought *maybe* I'd go ... now I gotta go."

"I realise that," she conceded at once. "But I'm going with you ..."

"We didn' talk about that before ..."

"No ... we didn't ... We were unaware of the problems up there ..."

"So wouldn' it be better if I went up there an' found out what was happenin' before draggin' you into it?" he argued, his voice rising.

"You wouldn't be dragging me into," she threw back at him. "I want to go with you ..."

Sully took a deep calming breath before replying. It was then that they both realised there was complete silence in the room. They turned towards their family only to find all eyes fixed upon them. Michaela bit her lip and turned back to Sully. "We can talk about this later," she said quietly. "At home ..."

He nodded resignedly and strode across the room to pick up his baby son.

************************
"I *am* going with you," Michaela once again insisted as she followed Sully around the barn whilst he did his chores. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the pounding of soaking rain on the roof.

"Its too dangerous ... too much can go wrong," Sully repeated for the umpteenth time.

"That's never been a problem before," rejoined Michaela stubbornly.

Sully vigorously mucked out a stall. "I reckon I should go up there alone first," he said curtly. "See what's happenin'."

"And if medical assistance is needed?"

"You don' know what it can be like ..."

"Don't know?!!" she exclaimed. "I was with you at Washita remember? How can you say that!"

"Washita was different ..."

"Oh it was ... was it!" she rejoined, her form rigid with indignation. "Would you like some other examples?! Perhaps Black Kettle with a bullet in his neck, or the Cheyenne dying because of typhus infested blankets, or Black Moon and his consumption ... How dare you say I don't know what it can be like!!"

"An' maybe that's why I don' want you goin'," returned Sully obstinately.

Michaela swallowed and endeavoured to calm her tumultuous feelings. At last she said quietly but firmly, "Sully ... please turn and look at me ..."

For a long moment he continued with his work, his back to her. Then, when he realised she was standing her ground, he rested the end of the rake in the dirt and slowly turned to face her, his eyes defiant, stubborn.

"Now tell me what's really worrying you," she asked quietly, determinedly.

He shrugged and began to turn away again.

"Sully," she said sternly.

"I wanna see for myself what's happenin'," he rejoined sullenly.

"So do I ..."

He frowned and his jaw tightened. "When Black Moon an' his braves were fightin'  ... there were things they did ...," he muttered. "An' Red Fox ..."

Her brow creased.  "You're worried about what the Cheyenne might do?" she queried in astonishment. "Not the army ..."

"I'm worried about them too ...," he admitted sheepishly. "It's a war Michaela ... an' a war aint no fit place for a woman ..."

She clenched her teeth and then said just as stubbornly, "I know it's a war ... I've been involved in it ever since you brought Black Kettle to the homestead when he was shot ... I stood beside you when your family was massacred at Washita and after the uprising I negotiated the treaty that allowed what remained of the Palmer Creek indians to journey to the lands of the northern Cheyenne ... *This* woman *has* been involved and will not let you go off on your own ..." She paused and took a deep soulful breath. "I couldn't stand not knowing what was happening again Sully ... I couldn't sit here in Colorado Springs imagining all manner of things happening to you ... Cloud Dancing ... Dorothy ..."

"But you'd be with family ..."

"I want to be with you ... The family will be safe here ... all together ... I don't want you tackling this on your own ..."

"An' what if neither of us comes back huh? Can ya imagine our kids without a pa *or* ma?"

Her eyes were suddenly suspiciously bright. "No," she managed in a small voice. "But I also couldn't imagine you never returning and me not knowing what had happened ... I couldn't live through that ..."

His brow furrowed in concern.  At last he said warily, "I'd wanna leave as soon as possible ..."

"When?" she asked, her tone grim.

"Wanna go into town tomorra ... see if there's any news ... So maybe the day after ..."

She frowned in consternation, then swallowed deeply. "Alright," she resolved sombrely. "I can be ready by then ..."

For a very long moment Sully gazed into her wide, defiant, yet fearful eyes, then he nodded and abruptly turned his back to her to continue mucking out the last stall.

***********************
"Do you think they'll be alright?" asked Kathleen fearfully as she, Matthew, Katie and William watched Michaela and Sully ride off.

"Gotta hope so," rejoined Matthew quietly. "They've done this sort o' thing before ..."

"They have? ..."

"Uh huh ... When we found out Cloud Dancin's people were gonna be ambushed by the army before they reached the Fort ....."

"And everything turned out alright?" she queried, the imprint of horses' hooves in the drying mud of the yard now the only evidence of departing riders.

"Guess it depends on what ya mean by alright," Matthew replied, lost deep in thought.

She urged Katie back inside the house, then turned to face him, a drowsy William nestled in her arms. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well ... if ya mean did they get back here without gettin' hurt ... then I guess it came out alright ... But it was a terrible time ..."

"Oh?"

"They got to the banks of the Washita ta find most o' Cloud Dancin's people had been massacred, including his wife Snowbird. The only one they found alive was a baby, no more 'an six months old ... They brought him back here ..."

"What happened to him?"

"Grace an' Robert E looked after him 'til Cloud Dancin' could take him to the Tongue River Valley to live with the northern Cheyenne ..."

"It must have been terrible ..."

"It was ... Ma wasn't herself for weeks an' Sully kept it all inside ... It was only a couple o' months before their weddin' ... I was worried it mightn't happen ... they were so shook up by what they'd seen an' bin through ... Took 'em a long time ta get over it ... Guess that's why Sully didn' want Dr Mike goin' this time ..."

"But this time the papers haven't mentioned any massacres ... or battles ... just some troubles between prospectors and dog soldiers ..."

Matthew shook his head ruefully. "Newspapers don' ever mention the massacres unless they can make the army look good," he rejoined cynically. "Dr Mike an' Sully could be walkin' into anythin' up there ..."

Kathleen bit her lip in consternation and as if she could still see the riders, her eyes fixed on the road leading north from the homestead and she sent up a silent but heartfelt prayer.

***********************
Still seething with resentment, Michaela stepped up onto the porch of the only guesthouse in Woodville and pulled the front door open. She shook her head ruefully. She hadn't undertaken this long and arduous journey north-west to be cast aside by Sully just short of their destination. When he'd finally agreed to her travelling with him, she'd thought he'd understood, but instead he'd argued that it was best he ascertain what was happening in the indian territory before she accompanied him there. How dare he suggest that after all their years together she would be a problem, a liability! Each time she objected he'd argued that she should think of the children at home before again confronting the army without careful planning. She humphed to herself in disgust. This argument had been used more than once before, but then it had been by herself when *he* was entertaining something dangerous. And he had rejected it, wholeheartedly! How dare he now turn it back on her like that!

The thought of sitting alone, for who knew how long, in a guesthouse in a town she didn't know was abhorrent to her. If he wasn't back in two days she'd go after him, she swore she would.

She approached the front desk and rang the small, shiny bell imperiously. A pretty young woman with a welcoming smile appeared from a doorway down the landing and said brightly, "Howdy ma'am ... need a room?"

Michaela nodded, her expression grim, still too angry to be as sociable as she would normally be.

The young woman's eyebrows rode speculatively, but she quickly turned the book towards her new guest and indicated where she should sign which she did with a flourish. Again the woman's eyebrows rose but this time with disbelief. She quickly exchanged the key she had in her hand for another and indicated that Michaela should follow her down the landing. About three quarters of the way down her footsteps faltered and she turned to hesitantly face her new guest. "Ah .. ma'am," she began. "I ... well ... You signed the book *Doctor* Quinn?"

Michaela nodded. "That's right," she replied.

"You're a real doctor ... with medicines?" the woman queried incredulously.

Again Michaela nodded.

The young woman swallowed then posed in a low tone, "Um ... well ... I was wonderin' ..."

Michaela's eyes narrowed. "Are you ill?" she asked, her anger at Sully abruptly displaced by concern for a possible patient.

The woman immediately shook her head. "No ... it aint me ... I'm just fine ... but well ... there's this lady ... hurt pretty bad ... I've been doin' all I could for her ... but ... she needs a doctor ... an' we aint got one in Woodville ..."

Michaela's posture immediately straightened and she turned back the way they'd come. "Of course," she said at once. "You'll take me to her?"

"Ah .. ma'am?  Well ... she's ... she's right down here." She pointed further down the landing.

"Here in the guesthouse?" rejoined Michaela with surprise.

The woman nodded. "Uh huh ... Pa didn' want me helpin' her ... but she's a nice lady ... I couldn' just leave her ta die ... He don' know I've bin lookin' after her ..."

Michaela hastily brushed past the woman and then said curtly, "Which room?"

The now uncertain woman nodded towards the last door on the left. "There," she said, her tone subdued. Michaela held out her hand for the key. "It aint locked," the woman explained. "I've bin tryin' ta visit much as I could .. between chores ... Didn' know how else ta help her ..." As Michaela reached for the doorhandle, the woman added defensively, "I cleaned her up as best I could ..."

Michaela frowned and then turned her attention to the room and its mysterious occupant. She was beginning to have grave feelings about this new situation. She turned the handle and pushed the door open. Her eyes immediately went to the small bed on the opposite wall. On it lay a motionless and obviously mortally wounded woman. Her heart suddenly pounded and she was unable to stifle her gasp. "Dorothy!" she exclaimed in astonishment and dread before rushing across the room and dropping to her knees at her dear friend's bedside.

Chapter 36

Sully rode to the top of the rise and then reined in his horse. The scene below made his heart pound and his skin crawl.

***************************
"You know Mrs Jennings ma'am?!" queried the young woman, obviously bewildered.

Gently placing her hand on Dorothy's brow and then peering into her eyes, Michaela replied distractedly, "Yes ... of course ... She's a dear friend ... She's one of the reasons I'm here ..." She at last turned back to the woman who still stood hesitantly in the open doorway.  "How long has she been like this?" she asked, unable to mask the accusation in her tone.

The woman blushed but then returned, "Since the evenin' before last ... I found her ... in the alley ... Had Jimmy help me bring her inside ..."

Michaela's face softened momentarily and she said quietly, "Thank-you ... ah ...?"

"Julia," replied the woman at once. Then she shrugged. "Like I said ... I didn' know how ta help her ..."

Michaela turned back to gaze down at her critically wounded friend. "She's been unconscious the whole time?" she asked anxiously.

"Not always," Julia replied. "A couple o' times she opened her eyes an' I wondered if she was really seein' me ... but she aint done that today ..."

Observing Dorothy's badly swollen face, the clamminess of her skin and the impassivity of her features, Michaela ventured, "Do you know how this happened?"

"Guessed she'd been beaten," Julia replied in a low tone.

Michaela took a deep, horrified breath as her suspicions were substantiated, and again turned to face her. "You have no idea who did this?" she queried. The woman blushed and dropped her eyes to the floor.  "Julia ... please ... if you know something ....," Michaela implored.

"Pa don' want no trouble," Julia replied, discomfited.

"I can understand that ... but Dorothy is very ill ..."

Julia nodded and then muttered, "Saw a soldier runnin' away ... that's why pa didn' want me ta say anythin' ..." She swallowed then asked quietly, "Why would a soldier do that ta Mrs Jennings?"

Michaela frowned, turning her back to the curious young woman.   "I don't know," she said softly, her imagination running riot. "But she's very seriously ill now." Shaking herself, she assumed her most professional tone. "I'm going to need hot water ... more than one bowl ... and as many towels as you can find," she ordered. Then added more gently, "Please  ... if that's possible ..."

She heard the woman spin on her heel and hurry down the landing and then addressed her comatose friend in a whisper, "Oh Dorothy ... what have you got yourself involved in?" Her eyes welled with tears when there was no response.  She took a deep breath and drew back the bedcovers, frightened of what she might find. Her patient still wore a familiar blue gown though it was now torn and dirty. One sleeve was almost ripped completely away revealing an obviously broken and bruised arm. On the other side the skirt was torn from the waistband to reveal a soiled petticoat. Her boots had been removed but she still wore her torn black stockings. Michaela took a deep breath. She dearly hoped that her friend had endured a beating only and not something even more despicable.

***********************
Just a few months back he and Michaela had stood on this very same rise and watched the large contingent of Cheyenne below go about their daily life. Perhaps as many as three hundred indians of all ages had lived peacefully here in the valley between the woods and the mountains. How they had savoured their time here, drinking in the experiences so they would be able to tell their grandchildren of idyllic Cheyenne life. It had been summer and the family had joined in the various activities; eaten, slept and hunted with their Cheyenne family.

Now there was no sign of life at all. The meadow was completely bare. The only faint indication that there had been life in the valley was the flattened circles of ground where tipis had stood, and even some of those showed tinges of new green grass. It might have been as long as a week since indians had inhabited this place. But where had they gone and why? He grimaced. He could guess why.

He now almost regretted not riding into Woodville with Michaela before journeying out here. At least then he could have ascertained the number of soldiers in these parts and perhaps gleaned some information as to their intentions. But he had so desperately wanted to find Cloud Dancing, his Cheyenne family, to assure himself that they were all alright.

He knew Michaela was angry with him. Her disgust had been evident. He'd fought hard to hold his ground. He just couldn't bear the thought of leading her into great danger, from either the army or dog soldiers. The newspapers always had only part of the story and he'd wanted the whole story before his beloved wife became involved. Now of course he didn't have the whole story. In fact, he realised ruefully, she may well have more of the story than he. An empty meadow told him nothing except that an entire Cheyenne village had found it necessary to move on. He refused to even contemplate the thought that anything more dire had happened to them.

But what *had* happened to them? He gently nudged his horse in the ribs and set off down the hill towards the meadow. There would be tracks he could follow, though following Cheyenne was always much more difficult than following settlers or even outlaws. If the Cheyenne didn't want to be found then they generally weren't. There was little more than two hours remaining before night set in, but perhaps he could pick up some signs. He would have to utilise every skill Cloud Dancing had ever taught him.

For over an hour Sully rode the perimeter of the huge meadow, often dismounting from his horse to examine a broken twig, even a bent blade of grass. At last he thought he knew where to start. He was relieved to discover no sign of the army in his searching. At least, up until now, there appeared to have been no bloodshed.

He gazed up into a cloudy sky. Less than an hour until dark, then the trail would be impossible to follow. He gazed around, undecided as to his next course of action. A thin spiral of smoke wafting into the darkening sky in the distance caught his attention. He was certain it wouldn't be indians. Perhaps the army? His decision was made. He would visit with whomever had made camp in the woods and, with any luck, ascertain what had been going on in this area throughout the past few days, weeks.

***********************
When Julia, laden with a bowl of steaming water and clean cloths, returned to the small back room it was in time to see Dorothy's dress and undergarments being carefully cut away from her battered body with a pair of surgical scissors. Her stockings had been rolled down to reveal large angry bruises on her legs and her broken arm had been bound in clean white bandages. The younger woman walked quietly across the room and placed the bowl on top of the small dresser in the corner. "I've got more water on the stove ma'am," she said in a low tone. "An' I'll bring another bowl an' more towels now." When Michaela merely nodded in reply, she asked anxiously, "How's she doin'?"

Michaela shook her head. "Its not good," she replied worriedly. "She's been badly beaten ... She has a fever which means there's an infection somewhere ... and she hasn't shown any signs of consciousness."

Julie nodded in sympathy and was about to turn back towards the door when Michaela tenderly pulled back the cut garments to reveal the true extent of Dorothy's injuries. The revelation made them both gasp. Across her stomach and even more deeply at her side, extended a series of bruises which gave the impression of straining to burst open. They were so livid the blood seemed to be held back only by the thinnest layer of damaged and swelling skin. It didn't take a doctor to recognise the boot marks. She'd been kicked, repeatedly. As Michaela's shoulders sagged, Julia managed to mumble before rushing from the room, "I'll ... I'll go get that water."

Tears blurring her eyes, Michaela set about examining Dorothy's injuries. Apart from a cut on her hand and a scratch on her bruised cheek there were no open wounds where infection could have set in. That fact worried Michaela greatly. It meant that the fever was probably caused by internal bleeding. The worst haematoma was in the region of the spleen and she guessed that this organ had probably ruptured. She sat back on her heels for a moment. How she wished Sully was here with her right now. He would be able to assist as he had done so many times in the past. It was obvious the spleen would have to be removed and any internal bleeding stopped as soon as possible. She gazed around the small, meagre room. It was not going to be easy. Her brow furrowed and she whispered urgently, "My friend ... you waited for me to find you here ... now you have to fight ... I'm not going to lose you ... you hear?"

When Julia again returned to the room Michaela was standing and going through her medical bag which sat on the dresser beside the bowl of hot water. She spun around to face her new friend. "You said someone helped you bring Dorothy in from the alley?" she asked.

Julia nodded. "Yes ... Jimmy ... he does odd jobs ..."

"Is he around at the moment?"

"He's in the kitchen ... I just left him ..."

"Would there be a table somewhere we could use? A table large enough to lay Dorothy on?"

Julia frowned. "There's one in the kitchen," she replied guardedly. "But ... well ... pa wouldn' want it moved ... He don' even know I've bin lookin' after Mrs Jennings ..."

Michaela swallowed and then said quietly, "Dorothy is going to die unless I can operate to remove her spleen and stop the bleeding .... I can't do that on the bed ... or the floor ... please ... Take me to your father ... I'll explain it to him ..."

Julia eyed her warily. "You think you can save her?" she asked at last. "I thought you said it looks bad .."

"It does ... but there's a chance ... just a chance ... however, I need to operate now ... Please ... take me to your father ..."

Julia's eyes flew from Michaela to the unconscious Dorothy then back to Michaela. At last she said with new resolve, "Pa aint here right now ... I'll have Jimmy help us with the table ... You want it in here?"

"But your father," Michaela attempted.

Julia waved  her concerns aside. "I'll look after him ... long as you look after Mrs Jennings ... She's a nice lady ... She's been stayin' here on an' off for a while now ... I like her ..."

Michaela nodded. "Thank-you," she said sincerely. "But there's one more thing Julia .."

The young woman's eyebrow rose speculatively.

"How would you feel about assisting me with the operation?" Michaela asked. "Its difficult to do it on my own ..."

Julia swallowed. "You mean be here while you cut her open?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes," Michaela replied. "You would have to listen to what I say very carefully and then do exactly as I ask ... Can you do that?"

"I ... I aint sure," she rejoined uncertainly.

"There is no-one else."

Julia took a deep breath and then nodded resignedly, before saying, "I'll go get Jimmy an' the table ..."

"And we'll need some clean white sheets," instructed Michaela. When Julia hesitated, Michaela added, "I'll pay for anything that's ruined .."

Again Julia nodded and headed out the door, wondering what she'd got herself into.

*************************
He could hear the men well before he could actually see them. One had a loud, but friendly Scottish brogue that far eclipsed the other more muted voices. Occasionally the Scot would make a comment which would be followed by a gale of laughter from them all that echoed amongst the trees. Nevertheless Sully approached cautiously.

Finally, in the last vestiges of daylight, he spied them through a gap in the bushes. There were three of them sitting around a campfire, two with whisky bottles in hand, the other a tin cup. Their beards were bushy and their complexions nut brown as if they'd been in the outdoors for a long time and their faces and hands were smeared with dirt. Beside each lay a rifle at the ready. Sully regarded the men and their weapons ruefully. His eyes swept the clearing. Their tethered horses, bedrolls and various tools including picks and shovels were nearby and a steaming, lidded pot hung over the campfire. It was obvious they were prospectors. One of the articles in the Denver Post had mentioned trouble between prospectors and dog soldiers and Sully wondered what these three men had seen, or experienced. He backed away and silently retreated to where he had tethered his horse. He mounted and then slowly and with as much noise as he could possibly make, rode towards the men's camp.

When he entered the clearing he was confronted with three rifle barrels aimed steadily in his direction. He held up his hands and then casually dismounted. "I aint carryin' a gun," he said as he stood by his horse's flank.

"Who are ya stranger?" asked one of the men warily.

Taking one step forward, he replied, "Name's Sully ..."

"An' what are ya doin' in these parts Mr Sully?" asked another, his rifle never wavering in its aim.

"Saw your campfire ...," replied Sully at once. "I aint a prospector ... If that's what ya worried about ..."

"An' how'd ya know we were prospectors lad?" queried the Scot.

"Aint hard ta work out ... Those're prospectin' tools aint they?" returned Sully mildly.

"Aye .. that's what they are ... but ye still haven't answered our question ... what are ya doin' here this time o' day?"

Sully shrugged and replied benignly. "Wife's a doctor ... She's back in Woodville ... thought I'd take in some o' the scenery before we head back ta Colorado Springs in a few days ..."

"Colorado Springs? You're a long ways from home," commented the smallest of the men suspiciously.

"Why do I get the feelin' you're not tellin' us the whole truth Mr Sully?" queried the Scot. Despite his words he lowered his rifle so it pointed to the ground.

Again Sully shrugged. "Just takin' a look while I got the chance," he returned. "Aim on headin' further west tomorra ... see what's over that ridge ..."

One of the men, whose black eyebrows almost met in the middle and were complemented by a long black beard and moustache, scoffed derisively, "Like as not it'll be injuns you'll see ..."

"Or army," added the slightly built man, also lowering his rifle.

"Or maybe both," completed the Scot.

"Bin some trouble 'round here?" asked Sully mildly.

The Scot's eyes narrowed slightly at the loaded question. Nevertheless he indicated with his rifle that Sully should join them at the campfire, then replied, "There's been some lad ... Not that we've been involved in it ... thank the Lord ... Seems the indians don' like too many o' us diggin' up the land round here ..."

"There's bin a lot o' prospectin' goin' on?" asked Sully as the others took the Scot's lead and laid their rifles down.

The Scot shrugged. "If you're talkin' about folks like us ... aye ... but we're not the sort ta cause the trouble ... We steer clear o' the indians ... an' most o' the time they steer clear o' us ..."

"Who's causin' the trouble then?" asked Sully.

The Scot gave him a rueful look. "The railroad," he replied. "Bin so many surveyors through these parts they gotta have maps o' every inch o' this land by now ..."

Sully swallowed. He knew the lengths the government and railroad companies would go to progress the railway across the country. He nodded. "Saw the same thing happen in the Colorado Territory," he remarked. "Government seems ta think the railroad an' the indians can't occupy the same land ..."

"An' you think they can?" asked the dark haired man incredulously.

Sully shrugged. "Yes an' no," he replied. "Course, once the railroad comes through the game dries up ... No food for the indians means starvation unless they can move on or find somethin' ta replace the game ..."

"You saw this happen in Colorado eh?" queried the Scot with interest.

"Yep ... It didn' work out ... Army stirred up trouble ... Some o' the indians tried ta save their people an' their land ... lot o' killin' went on ..."

The Scot gazed out into the night, deep in thought. At last he said, "The valley you probably saw this afternoon ... only a mile or two away ... up to last week there were indians livin' there ... now they're gone ..."

"You saw 'em?" asked Sully with surprise.

"Not really ... Saw a couple huntin' near here ... but if ya look you can tell they were livin' there ... Lot of 'em too ..."

"An' now they're gone ...."

"Uh huh ... Heard some soldiers say they're headin' further west ... Towards the Sioux reservation on the Bozeman Trail."

Sully smiled wryly. "Sioux an' Cheyenne don' usually get along ..."

The Scot's eyebrows rose speculatively. "Who said the indians were Cheyenne?" he challenged, though his eyes were twinkling. 

"Got a friend told me," replied Sully non-committally.

"Maybe an indian friend?"

"What makes ya say that?"

The Scot chuckled openly. "Its not hard to see by that garb you're wearin' that you've known some indians in your time," he returned. "I'm right am I not?"

Sully gave a rueful smile. "Yeah ... Guess you are," he conceded. "Knew the Cheyenne in the Colorado Territory pretty well 'til they got wiped out ..."

"Good thing I say," mumbled the dark haired man.

"Heard say those braves ... the ones they call dog soldiers ...have caused a lot o' trouble ...," the Scot remarked.

"So has the army," rejoined Sully, his voice tinged with bitterness. "There's fault on both sides ... Ya can't blame a person for tryin' ta protect what's theirs ..."

"But it aint theirs," mumbled the shorter of the men.

Sully swallowed deeply. "Bin livin' on it for thousands o' years," he remarked, striving to keep his voice even.

"They're savages ...," the man retorted, refusing to meet Sully's eye.

"Reckon that depends on how ya look at it," rejoined Sully. "Some could say so's the army when they kill innocent women an' children in the name o' progress ..."

The Scot suddenly held up his hand. "Seems to me it's not got anythin' to do with us ... and we're not likely to agree ... so maybe it'd be best ta talk o' somethin' else ... hmmm?" He paused for a moment and then inquired with a smile, "You say your wife's a doctor ... unusual occupation for a woman wouldn't you say?"

********************
Michaela glanced across at Julia who stood beside her, her face pale, a fine sheen of perspiration on her brow. "Are you alright?" she asked, desperately hoping her inexperienced assistant was not going to faint.

Julia took a deep breath and nodded as she put the bowl containing Dorothy's damaged and bloody spleen aside and then handed Michaela a clean cloth. "Nearly finished?" she asked anxiously.

Michaela frowned, bent over her unconscious friend. "Still some work to do ... I have to ensure I've found all sources of the bleeding ... There was a lot of damage ... but it shouldn't take too much longer ... Please pass me another clamp."

For nearly an hour more the two women worked side by side tending to Dorothy's wounds. At last Michaela took a step back and declared with satisfaction, "There ... I've done as  much as I can do ..."

Julia sighed with relief, then asked, "Is she gonna be alright?"

Michaela bit her lip and then said, "Its up to Dorothy now ... She's very weak ... She hasn't eaten in days and she's lost a lot of blood ..."

"But she's gonna be alright," avowed Julia with more hope than certainty.

Michaela hesitated then raised her eyes to the heavens. "She could use our prayers," she said softly.

Continued .....

Home