"Ma'am ... ma'am," murmured Julia in a low tone as she
gently shook Michaela by the shoulder.
Michaela sat bolt upright with a start, disoriented. In
a split second she realised where she was. She leaned forward from her chair by
the bed and, in the dim light of the lamp, urgently checked her patient's vital
signs. No change. She sighed, stretched her arms high in the arm to ease her
cramped muscles, and then blearily peered up at Julia.
The younger woman frowned in sympathy. Then after a
suitable pause suggested, "Why don' you lie down for a bit ... I can watch Mrs
Jennings ..."
Michaela rubbed at her eyes and delved into her pocket
for her watch. "What time is it?" she mumbled.
"Little after five," rejoined Julia at once. "You've bin
up all night ... I can watch her while you sleep a little ..."
"But if she needs me," protested Michaela.
"Than I'll call you ... You'll only be a few feet away
..."
Michaela turned back to the bed. "Wake up Dorothy," she
whispered. "Please ..."
"You thought she'd be awake before now, didn' ya?"
whispered Julia.
Michaela nodded, her eyes still fixed on Dorothy's pale
and bruised face. "I'd hoped so," she murmured.
"But her fever's not so bad ... is it?" Julie queried
with hope.
"No .. not quite as high ..."
"So there's still a chance .... Isn't there?"
"Yes ... there's still a chance ... but the longer she's
unconscious the less chance there is she'll survive ..." Michaela stood and, as
she had done more than once before, she ran her fingers carefully, dextrously,
over the unconscious woman's skull. She was certain there was no skull fracture,
but she had to reassure herself once again. Satisfied for now, she gently peeled
back the blankets and checked the neatly stitched incision. No inflammation, no
infection.
At last Julia interrupted her pensive examination. "Go
on ma'am ... I can look after her ..."
"But you must have things to do," protested Michaela.
"Your father will be unhappy if you don't do your chores." She gave her new
friend a rueful smile remembering the angry confrontation, now more than thirty
hours before, when Mr Noble had discovered what had been going on in his
establishment.
Julia smiled. "He's calmed down some ... He usually does
... He knows we can keep it quiet ... an' Jimmy's real loyal ... he won't say
nothin'."
"Your father made you promise that looking after Dorothy
wouldn't interfere with your work ... remember," Michaela advised.
"I've already done some of my chores," Julia assured
her. "I figure I can stay here 'til around seven ... Does that help?"
Michaela sighed and grasped the woman's hand warmly. "Of
course it does," she said gratefully. "But you'll be sure to wake me if anything
happens ... anything at all ... alright?"
Julia nodded. "I promise," she said.
Michaela tiredly stood and stretched her aching limbs
then took the three steps to the small cot that had been set up in the opposite
corner of the room. She eased herself down, then stretched out with a sigh.
Before two minutes had passed she was sound asleep, exhaustion overriding her
fears for Dorothy's life.
Julia watched her for a moment then settled herself into
the chair Michaela had vacated. Her gaze turned to the comatose patient, and
while she silently prayed, she gently clasped Dorothy's inert hand in her own
and unconsciously rubbed the back of it with her thumb as if massaging life into
the seemingly lifeless form.
**********************
Sully reined in his horse, slid from its back and stooped to slake his thirst at
a swiftly running stream. He'd been riding for nearly two days and still hadn't
located the new Cheyenne encampment. In the back of his mind was awareness that
the further he rode west in his search the further he rode away from Michaela
who must be worried that he had not returned. He was sure he was on the right
track but the centuries old ways of the Cheyenne made it an extremely difficult
task to follow them. He was in a quandary. He knew he should return to Woodville
to at least tell Michaela what was happening but couldn't let go of the feeling
that he might meet up with the Cheyenne at any moment and the days of tracking
and riding would therefore not have been in vain.
Truth was, he was a little puzzled. The prospectors had
mentioned the Bozeman trail. He knew the Sioux had claimed that area.
Apparently, despite the efforts of the army and government, there were still a
large contingent of them. News of the closing of the Bozeman Trail, an old route
used by prospectors in the Great Plains area, so the Sioux could settle there by
treaty had even made it into the Colorado Territory newspapers. So why would the
Cheyenne be moving in that direction? Even given the plight of all the indian
tribes, there was no way the Sioux and Cheyenne would, or could, co-exist. How
he longed to meet up with Cloud Dancing right now. His brother would be able to
tell him what was happening and about the condition of his fellow Cheyenne. He
sighed and again peered up into the sky. He would give himself until nightfall.
If he hadn't come across fresh evidence of the Cheyenne by then he would have to
turn back. He took a deep, resolute breath and climbed once more into the saddle
to head off westward again.
"I still don' know if we should be plannin' the
Sweethearts Dance with so many people outta town," Grace repeated tiredly. A
large number of townspeople had been summoned to a meeting at the café just
before supper.
"Only a few folks missin' an' they'll be back soon,"
rejoined Loren dismissively. "The Town Council promised the young folk o' this
town we'd have the Sweethearts Dance earlier this year ... an' that's what we're
gonna do ..."
"Seems ta me there's more an' you on the Town Council
Loren," Grace retorted.
"Hank agrees with me ... so does Jake," Loren came back
quickly. "So the matter's settled ..." The two men sitting opposite him at the
largest table at the café nodded in affirmation.
"Yeah well some o' us aint gonna have our hearts in it,"
Grace muttered. "One o' the Town Councillors is away ... so's the editor of the
newspaper ... Seems to me we should wait til they git back ..."
"Give it up Grace," charged Hank. "If we gotta have a
Sweethearts Dance ... then lets plan it an' git it over with ..."
The Reverend gave him a wry smile. "Getting into the
spirit of things hey Hank?" he quipped.
The barkeep shrugged. "You know me Rev ... these town
things aint exactly my style ...," he returned.
Myra quietly humphed in reply. "That's why I always
wondered why you wanted to be on Town Council Hank," she muttered.
"More ta bein' on Town Council than arrangin' dances an'
such," he retorted with a grin.
She shook her head ruefully.
Sitting upright and banging the table with the palms of
his hands authoritatively, Jake announced, "That's settled then ... We already
got a date ... so whatdya wanna do first?"
"If its going to be a dance, it seems to me we need
music," suggested Anna.
"I'll get Horace ta wire Denver for that band we've used
before," Jake rejoined, jotting himself a note. "Next?"
"We're gonna need some ...," Loren began but was
arrested by a very serious Horace hastening his way.
The telegraph operator halted by Loren's chair, took a
deep breath and handed him a telegram. "Thought you'd wanna see this straight
away," he said. "It just come in ..."
Loren frowned and then turned his eyes to Horace's neat
script while everyone gathered at the table waited with bated breath. It was
obvious from Horace's expression that the telegram contained perhaps dire news.
When Loren's jaw clenched and his brow furrowed, their suspicions were
confirmed. "Loren?" queried Grace with concern.
The shopkeeper swallowed and then raised his eyes to his
friends. "Its Dorothy," he replied in a small voice.
"Dorothy?" exclaimed Jake. "What's happened?"
"She's ..," began Horace, then Loren cut him off. "She's
real sick ... musta caught what her aunt had," he said quickly. He pushed his
chair back and stood. "I better head up there ... see if I can help ...," he
began, then faltered. "But the mercantile ... gotta keep it open ... an' I don'
know how long I'll be away ..."
Everyone collectively frowned then sighed. At last Faith
tentatively suggested, "Perhaps I could help ..." All eyes suddenly turned to
her and she blushed, unconsciously raising her hand to the still ugly scar on
her face.
"You mean run the store while I'm away?" demanded Loren
gruffly.
She nodded, but slid down in her chair, uncomfortable
with the attention.
"That's a grand idea Loren," exclaimed the Reverend with
a smile. "And I could help her ..."
Despite his concern for Dorothy Loren humphed
derisively. In reply the Reverend stated positively, "I've been livin' in the
store long enough ta hear what goes on ... an' about the orderin' an' such ... I
*could* help ..."
Loren took a deep breath and his frown deepened.
"Dorothy's real sick Loren?" asked Grace quietly.
The old man's eyes returned to the crumpled telegram in
his hand and he nodded. "Might not make it ... it says ... ," he mumbled. "I
gotta go help her ... Don' like ta think o' her dyin' ... way out there like
that ... Not after what happened with Olive ..."
Grace and Robert E nodded in understanding.
"Then Faith and I *will* look after the store," asserted
the Reverend.
"Bad luck Michaela aint here ... she'd go with ya ... ta
help," suggested Hank.
"But she's ...," began Horace. Again Loren interrupted.
"There's a doctor lookin' after Dorothy," he asserted. Before Horace could say
any more, Loren grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him away. "Need you ta
book me a ticket up there Horace .. soon as ya can ..." He then turned back to
Faith. "I'd be obliged if you'd look after the store ... Could ya come by in a
little while ... an' I'll show ya what has ta be done?" When Faith nodded, he
turned back to the telegraph operator and they hastened away toward the station.
*************************
Brian's head shot up in surprise when he heard the horse ride into the homestead
yard. It was then he realised just how late it might be. The sun had disappeared
behind the mountains and the homestead was in darkness except for the light of
the lamp beside his chair. He bounded up guiltily and headed for the door. He
flung it open to see Matthew trudging up the steps. Their eyes met - Matthew's
accusing, Brian's rueful. "Where ya bin little brother?" Matthew questioned
tiredly. "Kathleen wouldn' start supper til you showed up ..."
"I ... I ... I'm sorry Matthew," Brian exclaimed
guiltily. "I ... I lost track o' time ..."
Matthew glanced around the dimly lit living room. "Not
doin' chores I reckon ..."
Brian hung his head. "I was readin'," he explained
ruefully.
"Should o' guessed ..."
"It was Mr Parrish's journals ... the ones ma an' pa
brought back from the mountains the other day ... They're real interestin'?"
"He was a deserter wasn' he?" queried Matthew as he
reached across to the hook behind the door and grasped Brian's hat and coat.
"Yeah ... he couldn' stand what was goin' on between the
army an' the indians ...," Brian elucidated as he shrugged into his coat.
"Seems a drastic measure ... runnin' away I mean,"
commented Matthew, starting down the homestead steps.
"Maybe he felt like there weren't no other choice ...,"
Brian suggested, following him. When there was no response from his brother he
halted in his tracks and challenged, "You think what he did was wrong?"
Matthew shrugged. "Don' know the circumstances I guess
... but if the army thinks desertin' is bad enough ta be hanged for ... then it
seems ta me ... it can't be right ..."
Brian swallowed and then asked falteringly, "What about
pa? .... He deserted ... You never said that was wrong ...."
In the act of placing his foot in the stirrup, Matthew
too faltered. He turned to face his brother, his brow furrowed, his thoughts
whirling. At last he managed, "Maybe that was different ..."
"Why?"
Matthew shrugged. "Sully was tricked ... into killin' a
man ..."
"An' Mr Parrish wasn't?"
"He knew what he was signin' up for ..."
"Did he? Pa always says folks back east aint got a clue
what's happenin' out here ..."
This time Matthew did haul himself up into his saddle.
"All I know is ... he signed up for somethin' an' then couldn' take it ..."
Brian, still on the ground, frowned. "Thought you'd
understand Matthew," he accused. "After pa an' all ... besides ... the same
thing happened to you ... didn' it?"
Matthew's eyes shot to his brother's. "Whatdya mean by
that?" he demanded.
"You signed up ta be sheriff didn' ya? Then found out
it wasn' what you expected ... not when you had to lock up indians when they
hadn' done anythin' ... or put pa in jail when you knew he couldna done what
they said ... You had ta make some hard choices ... just like Mr Parrish ..."
Matthew swallowed and Brian went on, "Mr Parrish had ta decide whether he could
live with himself if he continued ta be part o' the killin' ... If he deserted
he knew he couldn' ever go home again ... ever see his family again ... but if
he stayed in the army his life wouldn' be worth livin' anyway ... He made his
choice ... an' had ta live out the rest o' his days in hiding ..." He paused and
swallowed, then continued, "His journals tell the story from his point o' view
... the indian massacres .. an' then the livin' on his own ... his feelin's of
guilt ... Maybe you oughta take a look at 'em ..."
Matthew's brow furrowed in thought and then he nodded.
"Yeah ... maybe I oughta," he adjured.
Brian nodded in satisfaction and quickly mounted Taffy.
*************************
The recognition that there was someone or something sharing the dimly lit
clearing with him occurred unconsciously, instinctively. He froze for only a
fraction of a second before leaping to his feet, spinning around and at the same
time drawing his tomahawk from its sheath and raising it above his head, ready
to throw.
"There is no need to use that my brother," suggested a
quiet voice as Cloud Dancing stepped into the firelight. His eyes held a
distinctive twinkle.
"Cloud Dancin'!" exclaimed Sully, immediately lowering
his weapon. "I coulda killed ya ..."
"Ah yes ... but you would not ... without seeing who it
was."
Sully nodded in agreement and then hastened to enfold
his Cheyenne brother in his arms. "I've bin lookin' for ya for days ... but had
ta come back here in the end ... Michaela's waitin' for me in Woodville ..."
Cloud Dancing sat down on the log beside Sully and held
his hands out to the heat of the fire. "I too needed to return," he said
quietly. "I did not expect to see you here ... It was Dorothy I expected to see
..."
"She aint travellin' with ya?" queried Sully, puzzled.
Cloud Dancing shook his head. "She has been in Woodville
... We thought it safer there than on the trail ... Only a few days before we
moved west she was almost seen with us by some soldiers ... but we believe they
did not see her ... She decided to go back into town ... She is trying to
discover the army's plans ..."
Sully nodded his head at this familiar strategy. "Guess
the two ladies've met up then," he rejoined. "Michaela's gonna be angry with me
cos I've been gone for days ... that's why I turned back. Figured I'd ride into
town in the mornin' ..." He glanced across to his brother. "But you said you
expected to see Dorothy out here?" he queried.
Cloud Dancing nodded. "Yes ... she was to meet me here
tonight. Then, when she told me the army's plans we would decide whether she
would go back to town or join my people on the trail ..."
"Funny she aint here then," Sully remarked.
Cloud Dancing nodded again and then frowned. "I expected
her to be here ... She knows this place well ... It is the place where my people
have lived for many years ..."
"I know ... brings back good memories," Sully adjured.
"Maybe her an' Michaela got talkin' an' she got confused about the time ... or
the day?"
Cloud Dancing's brow furrowed. "She knows this is
important ... and she would not be away from me unless something happened ..."
"Maybe the army's planning somethin' tonight an' she's
tryin' ta find out what it is ..."
"Perhaps," rejoined the medicine man doubtfully. "If she
does not join us tonight then I will ride into town with you in the morning ..."
"Is that safe?" questioned Sully at once.
"It will be difficult," Cloud Dancing replied
truthfully. "There has been some trouble between dog soldiers and prospectors
... also men from the railroad ... The army does not stop to ask if you are a
dog soldier before they shoot ..."
"Then I'll find out what's happenin' in town ... then
ride back out here ta tell ya," said Sully at once.
Cloud Dancing heaved a tired sigh. "I will ride with you
to the edge of town ... but then I will stay hidden and wait ...," he agreed
resignedly.
There was a long silence in the clearing as both men
became lost in thoughts of their loved ones and what had once been. At last
Sully asked, "So all the Cheyenne've moved west?" Cloud Dancing nodded so Sully
continued, "Talked to some prospectors ... not the kind ta make trouble for you
.... They were talkin' about the Bozeman trail ... but that's Sioux country aint
it?"
"We are not journeying so far ... but Flying Eagle and
the other chiefs have met with Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse..."
"The chiefs of the Sioux!" exclaimed Sully in
astonishment.
"Yes ... they have a great many warriors ... They are
going to fight to keep their land ... They will not agree to move on as we have
been forced to do ..."
"But what's that got to do with the Cheyenne?"
"They have asked us to join them in the fight ..."
"Against the army! You know what's always happened
before ... The army's too strong ... too many men ... too many weapons ...
You'll all end up dead ..."
"There are a great many Sioux warriors ..."
Sully abruptly stood and began to pace up and down the
clearing, creating strange, agitated shadows against the fire's flames. "An'
what happens when more an' more soldiers arrive from back east? ... It aint
gonna work Cloud Dancin' ... it aint ever worked before an' it aint gonna work
this time!"
"Custer and his men have been attacking Sioux camps ...
They are most likely behind the trouble around here also," rejoined Cloud
Dancing quietly.
Sully halted in his tracks. "Custer's in these parts!"
he exclaimed in shock and revulsion.
The medicine man nodded. "There are many soldiers here
now ... but there are many more Sioux and Cheyenne ... You can see that we must
fight ..." The question was more rhetorical than anything.
Sully slumped down beside his dearest friend. "I feel
like I'm livin' in some kinda strange circle ... things just keep goin' round
an' round ... instead o' ever goin' forward ... an' the worst part is ... I know
what's gonna happen ... before it does ... cos o' what's happened before ..."
"This need not be so ..."
Sully turned pained eyes on his brother. "But we know it
will be," he rejoined sadly.
*******************
Michaela's bleary eyes focussed on the door handle as it turned and the door
slowly opened inward. She raised her eyebrows in surprise when the tray, visible
first, turned out to be held in the large, strong hands of Mr Noble, rather than
his daughter. She immediately clambered up and took the laden tray from him.
Instead of leaving immediately, his eyes fixed on the motionless patient and he
asked gruffly, "She any better?"
Michaela shook her head and ran her fingers tiredly
through her hair. "No ... but she's no worse," she murmured soulfully.
"She aint eaten in days," he said, a hint of concern in
his tone.
"I know ... and the longer she's like this, the more
likely it is that she won't regain consciousness." Despite her professional
tone, Michaela's eyes welled with tears.
Discomfited by her distress the owner of the guesthouse
backed toward the door. "Ah ... I better git back to work ... Julia'll look in
later ... Anythin' else you need?" His tone suggested that he hoped there was
nothing.
She shook her head and said quietly, "No ... thank-you
Mr Noble ... for the breakfast ...and your concern."
He shrugged his shoulders and quietly backed out the
door.
Michaela returned her gaze to her comatose patient. "Oh
Dorothy," she murmured softly. "What are we going to do? ... Its time you were
awake ... This isn't how its meant to be ..." Again her eyes welled with tears.
"Please wake up," she begged. When, as usual, there was no response, she sighed
and glanced to the breakfast tray. Knowing she should be keeping her strength up
and actually doing so were two entirely different things. She picked up a still
warm biscuit and broke a small piece off with her fingers. It crumbled in her
hand and a small piece fell to the floor. She didn't have the strength or
motivation to pick it up. She placed the crumbled biscuit back on the tray and
once again took up the limp hand of her gravely ill friend.
***********************
Hank, returning from the railroad station, halted by the buggy drawn up beside
the clinic and smiled up at its occupant. "You headin' out to the Chatueau?" he
asked nonchalantly.
Anna smiled down at him. "Yes," she replied. "I have
four appointments out there and then have to back here for another at eleven."
"Ever think maybe you're workin' too hard?" he queried
with a rueful smile.
She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "I promised
Michaela I would do everything I could and that's what I'm doing ..."
"Seems ta me she's spending an awful lot o' time away
from Colorado Springs these days ... goin' off on wild goose chases ... like her
lookin' for that hermit fella only to find he was dead anyways ... seems ta me
she should be lookin' after the livin' right here ..."
"That's why I'm here Hank."
"There's too much doctorin' work for one person now I
figure ... That's why she hired you in the first place ..."
"I daresay she'll be back soon ..."
"Didn' even tell us where she was goin'," he grumbled.
"Reckon I could guess though ... seein' as how Sully's with her an' all that
indian news has been in the newspaper ..."
"That's nobody's business but Michaela's Hank," Anna
admonished.
"It'd be everybody's business if we had an epidemic or
somethin' come through here ...," he defended. "She's neglectin' her duty to
this town ..."
"From what I've heard ... Michaela owes no-one a thing
Hank," Anna averred steadfastly. "And as I've already stated ... that's what she
hired me for ..."
"Alright ... alright," Hank rejoined with a grin. "I
know I aint gonna git anywhere tryin' ta argue about Michaela ... never do in
this town." When Anna responded with a wry grin, he grinned back and then
ventured, "Anyone ever tell you ... you look real becomin' when you get riled
up?"
She bit her lip and her colour deepened, but she replied
saucily, "All the time ..."
He chuckled out loud, then enquired nonchalantly, "This
Sweetheart's Dance ... I guess you'll be goin'?"
She unsuccessfully tried to hide her smile, then
shrugged. "That depends on whether I'm asked ..." she replied invitingly.
He swallowed. "Ah .. guess you wouldn' consider goin'
with me? ... Though I gotta warn ya ... I aint much for dancin' ..."
Anna chuckled. "Why would you want to go ... if you're
not going to dance?" she teased.
"Maybe it's the company I'd go for ..," he quipped. In
return, she gave him one of those smiles that took his breath away, prompting
him to ask again, "So would ya consider goin' with me?"
"I'd love to," she found herself saying. "Though I warn
you ... I do expect to dance ... at least once ..."
"We'll see," he returned with a grin. "Weren't you
headin' out to the Chateau?" he teased. "You're gonna be late."
She chuckled. "So I am," she rejoined, then flicked the
reins and the buggy took off with a lurch.
He watched her go until she and the buggy disappeared
around the corner, all thoughts of Loren and his desperate journey to Dorothy's
bedside now forgotten.
*************************
Julia eyed the stranger approaching the guesthouse front desk with suspicion.
Ever since the attack on Mrs Jennings her view of the world had changed some.
She could think of no earthly reason why anyone would want to harm such a nice
lady. As a rule she'd always believed in the goodness of people but her faith
had been severely shaken. If you couldn't trust soldiers, who could you trust?
But this man didn't look like a soldier. His dress set him apart from most men
she'd ever met. He wore tan buckskin breeches and jacket which were dirt smudged
and dusty as if he'd been travelling for many days. She had to admit he was a
handsome man with the clearest blue eyes she'd ever seen. "Can I help you sir,"
she asked, unconsciously straightening her skirt and tucking a loose wisp of
hair back behind her ear.
"I'm lookin' for Dr Michaela Quinn," he said in reply.
"Believe she's stayin' here ..."
Julie eyed the stranger even more warily. "I don't know
if the doctor is in sir ...," she replied. "Who can I say is lookin' for her?"
The man's eyes narrowed slightly but he replied
assuredly, "I'm her husband Sully ... She's expectin' me ..."
Julia's eyes lit up. "Mr Sully," she exclaimed. "She's
told me about you. She was expectin' you a few days' back."
"Got held up," he replied shortly. "Is she in her room?"
"Ah ... not exactly," Julia replied, remembering that
this man was also a friend of Mrs Jennings. "But I'll take you to her ... Down
the landing here ..."
She beckoned to him to follow her and set off.
Sully was concerned. During the night and the ride into
Woodville he'd had plenty of time to think about why Dorothy hadn't met up with
Cloud Dancing like they'd planned. And while he didn't know what, he was certain
that something must have happened here in Woodville. There could be no other
explanation. All the time he'd been trying to reassure Cloud Dancing that
everything would be alright, he'd had this nagging sensation that someone was in
trouble. He hastily tried to dispel the selfish thought that it mustn't be
Michaela. The reaction of the young woman at the desk had confirmed his
suspicions. Something was wrong. Lost in his thoughts, he almost cannoned into
Julia as she halted at a door at the end of the landing and knocked gently.
There was a shuffling of feet and then the door was slowly pulled open. He
craned his neck to see who was standing on the other side. The sight took his
breath away.
Her hair hung limply around her shoulders, there were
dark circles under her eyes and her skin was the colour of chalk. She stepped
out onto the landing, glanced up into his eyes with barely a hint of emotion,
and then walked right into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder and
wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.
His heart was pounding and he crushed her to his chest.
He was immediately aware of two things; she was trembling, and she had lost
weight. He knew her so well, so intimately, that it was immediately obvious.
Over the top of her head, his troubled, blue eyes caught those of the young lady
from the desk. She gave him a weak, reassuring smile, nodded and then turned on
her heel to go back down the landing.
He took a deep breath, lovingly kissed the top of
Michaela's head and then whispered contritely, "You've been sick .... I didn'
know ..." It was the only explanation he could arrive at for her appearance and
demeanour.
For a moment she said nothing, then, to his surprise,
shook her head. "No ... not me," she murmured, her voice muffled by his shirt
and weak as if from lack of use.
He attempted to step back a little to look into her
eyes. She reluctantly loosened her hold and, as their eyes met, the truth hit
him and took his breath away. "Its Dorothy then," he declared with foreboding.
She nodded and her eyes welled with tears.
"How bad?" he questioned solemnly, though he knew the
answer by her manner.
She gulped and then taking his hand, drew him into the
silent, dimly lit room.
There was a smell in the room; a smell he knew all too
well. It was one he had hoped never to smell again.
He tentatively approached the bed where a friend who had
come to mean a great deal to him, lay motionless. Dorothy's face was ashen and
yet, thankfully serene.
Memories suddenly flooded his mind; Dorothy laughing
good-naturedly as she taught him to dance, Dorothy defending him in front of
everyone when the army threatened to arrest him after the railroad camp was
blown up by dog soldiers, Dorothy standing so proudly next to Michaela on their
wedding day; Dorothy suggesting he woo Michaela after Katie was born, Dorothy
bringing him food and news from town when he was in hiding in the cave, Dorothy
riding off to join Cloud Dancing up here in the north, Dorothy standing so
proudly in the church as the Reverend joined she and Cloud Dancing as man and
wife. His eyes misted with unshed tears. They were not just for himself, or
Dorothy. This was a woman who had befriended Michaela and supported her almost
from the time she arrived in Colorado Springs; this was a woman who had come to
learn of the Cheyenne and their plight and who had come to love one of them -
his brother, Cloud Dancing. Could the medicine man survive the death of yet
another he had loved?
Sully bent over her, willing her to open her eyes. It
was then he noticed the fading shadows on her face - yellowing marks than ran
down her cheek. He leant closer. The bruising continued on down her neck. He
rounded on Michaela and demanded almost harshly, "She aint sick! She's bin hurt
... What happened to her?"
This was the moment Michaela had been dreading. She knew
him so well. She reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing hard. "She was
beaten Sully," she replied, her voice catching.
He inhaled deeply, holding the air in his lungs for a
long moment. Then he asked tonelessly, "Anyone see who did it?"
Now it was Michaela's turn to take a deep breath. At
last she admitted, her voice low, "Perhaps."
His brow creased and he asserted, "Perhaps?"
"Julia thought she saw someone ..."
"Julia?"
"The daughter of the guest house owner ... You just met
her ..."
He shook his head as if clearing it, then demanded
through clenched teeth, "Who'd she see?"
Michaela hesitated, afraid of his reaction.
"Michaela?" he urged.
Her brow creased and she dropped her eyes from his. "She
thought she saw two soldiers," she admitted at last, her voice low. When the
only reaction was silence she raised her eyes worriedly. When she saw the fury
in his expression she uttered a soft, yet urgent entreaty, "Please Sully ..."
His eyes left hers to rest on the comatose woman laying
on the small cot beside them and for a long moment there was silence in the
dimly lit room. Then his jaw clenched and he once again met Michaela's eyes. "I
gotta ..," he began.
She at once shook her head. "No," she stated adamantly.
"Someone's gotta ..."
"No," she said again. "We both know what will happen
..."
All at once his eyes became suspiciously bright. "Cloud
Dancin'," he said sombrely. "He's waitin' for me ... just outside town ... I
don' think I can tell 'im .."
Michaela quickly inhaled, and then the control she had
maintained ever since finding Dorothy this way abruptly broke, and she flung
herself into Sully's arms, her heart-wrenching sobs filling the air. He
automatically embraced her, fighting for control himself. For the moment his
mind was focussed on Cloud Dancing who was still waiting in the woods near town,
oblivious to his wife's condition.
***********************
"I can't find the vanilla," moaned Faith, as she delved
into the shelves under the counter in the mercantile.
"We're out," responded the Reverend at once. "I heard
Loren say he'd ordered it a couple of days ago."
Faith straightened, sighed, then muttered, "This job is
much harder than I imagined." She smiled apologetically at the elderly customer
at the counter. "It should be in tomorrow," she said. "Perhaps you could come
back?"
The woman shook her head ruefully. "Its my grandson's
birthday today, not tomorrow ... what am I gonna tell him? He's gotta come back
tomorrow for his birthday cake?"
Faith sighed again. "I'm sorry," she said. "Loren
ordered the vanilla ..."
Again the woman shook her head. "Seems to me it shoulda
bin ordered before it ran out," she said gruffly.
"I've heard tell it helps to increase the sugar in the
recipe ... hides the fact there's no vanilla," offered Faith helpfully.
This time it was the elderly woman who sighed. "Guess
that'll have to do then ... but it won't be the same," she rejoined. She picked
up her shopping basket from the counter, grimaced, turned on her heel and left
the store. For a short time there was silence and then the Reverend said
quietly, "You realise she didn' pay ya for the rest of her shopping don't you?"
Faith swung around to face him where he sat at the
table, his expression benign. "You could have told me," she scolded.
"I just did," he replied evenly.
She screwed up her nose, her eyes glittering. "Before
she left the store," she emphasised.
He chuckled. "You told me not to interfere," he
responded.
She sighed in exasperation. "I should never have offered
to look after the mercantile while Loren is away," she retorted. "I'm not cut
out to be a shopkeeper."
"You're doin' just fine," he assured her. "But I wish
you'd let me help ... I've learnt an awful lot bein' here with Loren these past
few years."
"I'm just beginning to realise that ...
"Just cos a man can't see ..."
"Doesn't mean he doesn't know what's going on,"
concluded Faith contritely. "I know ... I'm sorry ... I'd be pleased if you
would assist me when I need your assistance ..."
The Reverend smiled with satisfaction. He had made a
point and in the meantime established a way to spend more time with a woman who
was coming to mean a lot more to him than he could or ever would let on.
**********************
"So she was like this when you got here?" asked Sully in disbelief.
Michaela nodded and swallowed. "Julia found her in the
alley beside the guest house ... nearly two days before I arrived ... She was
unconscious then ... I ... I ... had to operate ... her spleen was ruptured ...
and her wrist is broken ..."
"Nothin' else?"
"Nothing else that I can see..."
"Then why aint she awake?"
Michaela's eyes welled with tears. "I don't know," she
replied plaintively. "I've examined her over and over ... I've sat here for
hours ... days ... trying to ascertain why she hasn't regained consciousness ...
and I still don't know why." Her voice caught on the last.
He reached across and grasped her hand reassuringly. "So
what do we do now?" he asked in dread.
She shrugged her shoulders. "There's not much we can do
... except wait ..."
"You've been doin' that for days ..."
She nodded and her eyes glinted suspiciously again.
"You know I gotta tell Cloud Dancin'... right away ..."
"Of course ... but its not safe for him here in town ...
the soldiers ...."
Sully took a deep, controlling breath and then shook his
head. "He aint gonna stay away from her ..."
She too took a deep breath and replied resignedly, "I
know ... but you'll have to find a way to get him in here without being seen
..."
************************
Loren again withdrew his pocket watch from his waistcoat and examined its face.
Then silently snorted with disgust. Only twenty minutes since he last looked!
Oblivious to the magnificent fall scenery rushing past his train carriage
window, he stared fixedly ahead. He was filled with a foreboding he had known
but few times in his life.
Over the years he'd come to know Dr Mike pretty well and
so he knew she wouldn't have sent that telegram about Dorothy unless truly
worried she wouldn't make it. He swallowed deeply and then his jaw clenched.
He'd known nothing good would come of Dorothy's matching up with that indian!
Fancy her traipsing all the way up north into uncivilised, indian territory,
just because she thought she was in love with the man. The woman oughta know
better. Years back he'd offered to marry her, and though he knew now it probably
wouldn't have worked, if she had, she wouldn't be lying on her deathbed in some
small godforsaken town today!
He took a deep breath and fought to still the trembling
in his hands. These thoughts had been whirling through his mind over and over,
ever since the telegram yesterday. And along with those was a distinct feeling
of inadequacy. What the heck was a man of his age doing sitting on a train to
nowhere and what was he going to do when he got to this Woodville place anyway?
Dr Mike would be looking after Dorothy, if, God willing, she was still alive.
Again he swallowed deeply and a quick prayer was sent heavenwards. Dorothy was
the only living relative he had left in this world and her passing would leave
him very much alone. Even her marriage to Cloud Dancing had done that, to a
degree. He missed talking things through with her, things he wouldn't normally
talk to Hank and Jake about. In the back of his mind he'd always thought that he
and Dorothy would be there for each other in their old age. She was someone he
could rely on for support and advice. Alright, there were times they couldn't
agree on things, but mostly they understood each other, much more than any of
his other friends.
And now she was lying on a bed somewhere a long way from
Colorado Springs, dying. And he was on his way to see what he could do. His
thoughts and feelings were so mixed and confused his heart was pounding way too
fast. He took some deep, deep breaths. There was still a day and a half of
travelling, by both train and stagecoach, before he arrived in this Woodville
place. He'd have to calm down before then or it would be his funeral Dr Mike
would be arranging. He frowned ruefully and again took out his pocket watch.
************************
Julia watched with surprise as Mr Sully galloped down the main street and headed
out of town. Dr Mike had so longed for his return and yet after less than an
hour he was gone again. All along she'd known there was something Dr Mike wasn't
telling her. Why would she travel all the way from the Colorado Territory to
visit with a friend who was also a visitor? And where had Mr Sully been until
now? Her eyes narrowed in speculation. His clothes suggested he was no ordinary
rancher or labourer, neither was he likely to be a professional man.
And why was Mrs Jennings beaten by soldiers of all
people? Sure, she, just like a lot of others in town, didn't like some of the
soldiers' ways, but to her knowledge no townsperson had ever been beaten by one.
She swept the front porch of the guesthouse in a desultory fashion. She liked Dr
Mike and she'd certainly taken to Mrs Jennings in the times she'd stayed here,
but there was something strange going on, something she didn't understand. She
again speculated on Mr Sully's mode of dress. Could such nice people be involved
in something outside the law? Or, she scarcely dared to imagine, could it be
something to do with the indians in these parts? There had been some trouble
with them lately. And she'd seen those beads and that pouch thing that hung
around Mr Sully's neck. Her heart suddenly beat with excitement. She and her
father could actually be harbouring some sort of fugitive in Mrs Jennings! She
abruptly giggled. It was all so staggering as to be ridiculous.
She shook her head clear of her absurd daydreams and
industriously set to work with her broom.
***********************
Sully slowed his horse and surreptitiously glanced behind him as he entered the
shelter of the woods. There was no reason to think he might have been followed,
but his instincts told him to check anyway. Of course there was another more
obvious reason for the slowing down. He had no idea how he was going to tell
Cloud Dancing about Dorothy. Michaela hadn't been able to give him anything
positive to say. Yet again it seemed his brother was going to lose a loved one
at the hands of soldiers. His heart and mind filled with rage. When would the
killing stop?! His horse, sensing its rider's mood, began to pull at the bit and
prance uncertainly. Sully reined him in and tried to relax his tense muscles.
Only a few hundred feet into the dense woods he brought
his horse to a halt and slid from its back. Immediately Cloud Dancing, his brow
furrowed with worry, stepped out into Sully's path. Their eyes met and all at
once Sully knew there was no need for words.
The furrows on Cloud Dancing's brow deepened and his jaw
clenched. "There is trouble," he murmured resignedly. "And Dorothy?" he queried
with foreboding.
Sully shook his head and the medicine man's head drooped
and he sank to his knees. Sully immediately dropped to the ground beside him and
grasped his brother's shoulder firmly. "She's still alive ... just ..."
Cloud Dancing raised his eyes in hope. "Dr Mike is with
her?"
Sully nodded. "But it don't look good," he
warned.
