Sully spied his quarry as soon as he re-entered the
guesthouse. She was carrying a bucket and mop and heading down the landing
towards Dorothy's room. She looked up as she heard his heavy footsteps and he
hurried towards her.
"Mr Sully ... you're back again!" she exclaimed.
"Uh huh ...," he replied. "Ahh ... Julia aint it?" She
nodded and so he continued, "Well ... I know how you've been real good to
Michaela an' Dorothy ..." He paused and she inclined her head questioningly.
"Well ... I was wonderin' if you could maybe do somethin' else for us?" he
posed.
She put down her bucket and regarded him thoughtfully.
"An' what's that?' she inquired at last.
"Well ... I got a friend ... He's ... he's injured ...
an' I wanna get him here so's Michaela can take a look at him ..."
"Yes?"
"Well .. I need some clothes for 'im you see ..."
"What happened to him? Where is he? And what happened to
the clothes he was wearing when he was injured?" queried Julia, beginning to
believe her imaginings might not be so ridiculous after all.
"He's back in the woods a bit ... It was a huntin'
accident an' his clothes are ... are covered with blood ..."
Julia frowned. "He must be badly injured. Perhaps you
should take Dr Mike out to him, rather than try to bring him here," she
challenged quietly.
"I don' wanna take Michaela away from Dorothy ... not
right now ... She knows about my friend ... an' that I'm gonna bring him here
..."
Julia eyed him warily. It might be the truth, and then
again it might not. At last she suggested, "Perhaps some of Jimmy's clothes, as
long as he isn't a big man ..."
Sully nodded gratefully. "We need trousers an' a shirt,
maybe a hat ..."
"A hat?" Julia questioned. "Surely his own ..."
Sully quickly shrugged. "Trousers an' shirt would be
great ... soon as you can ... I wanna get him here quick ..."
Julia nodded and headed towards the kitchen. Sully
wasn't fooled. He was aware the young woman suspected something. He just had to
trust that she would hold her tongue and continue to respect Michaela and her
work as much as she had. Only minutes later Julia returned holding an old pair
of trousers, a plaid shirt and on top was a battered old hat. Sully did not
comment but accepted them gratefully.
She watched as Sully rushed out the door, mounted his
horse and galloped out of town again. Life hadn't been this interesting in a
long time!
**************************
Michaela tiredly bent forward until she was leaning on
her elbows on Dorothy's bed. She took up her dear friend's limp hand and gently
stroked it with her thumb as she had done so many times these past few days. She
sighed, then reminisced softly, "Do you remember Dorothy ... a long time ago now
... when I was troubled about my feelings for Sully? I was so afraid ... And
then we talked before my wedding? ... I was embarrassed ... but you weren't at
all ... What you said to me ... it helped me so much ..." She paused, collecting
her thoughts. "But then you knew that," she mused softly. "When we talked again
a few weeks after Sully and I arrived back from our honeymoon ... you told me my
enjoyment of married life was a gift from God."
As usual there was no sound or gesture in reply, so she
continued, her voice low, "And much later .... when Sully was in hiding for all
those months ... and I wasn't sure I could go on ... you supported me ... and
Sully ..." She hesitated and swallowed deeply, "Without you ... I ..."
Her eyes welled with tears and she bit her lip, striving
for control. It just wasn't fair!
With a soft sob, she added, "And then when I lost the
baby ... if it hadn't been for you and Grace ..."
Tears now silently coursing down her pale face, she
peered longingly at the serene features of her comatose friend. As she had done
so many times before, she squeezed Dorothy's hand and then waited expectantly
for a response. When there was none, her head dropped onto her arms where they
rested on the bed and her eyes closed. She'd thought that there were no more
tears left to shed. But she was wrong. At last, exhausted by her weeping, she
fell into a restive sleep, her confused thoughts melding into bewildering and
stressful dreams.
When she woke with a start she had no way of knowing how
long she'd slept. She felt disoriented and her eyes were gritty and sore. She
peered at the shrouded window and realised the sun was still glinting through
the gap between window and blind. She slowly straightened her aching back and
leaned back a little in her chair. What had woken her?
She shook her head bemusedly and fixed her eyes on
Dorothy. Her friend's features were unchanged. She sighed and glanced down at
their hands still clasped. Then it hit her like a thunderbolt! Their hands were
clasped!! Dorothy's hand was no longer laying limply in her own. The fingers
were curled, the grip weak but apparent. Her heart began to beat wildly, and yet
the doctor part of her was already trying to rationalise the situation - she was
well aware that sometimes there were reflex actions that bore no relation to the
patient's actual condition.
***********************
Loren grumpily scrambled out of the train at Cheyenne,
his carpet bag clutched in his hand, his eyes bleary and his tie askew. He'd
woken only when the train whistle blew then discovered that they were nearly an
hour late getting in. Odds were on the stagecoach to Woodville having already
left. That meant a night in this town of which he knew nothing. As a porter
rushed passed, he grasped him by the sleeve, halting him in his tracks.
"Stagecoach ta Woodville?" he demanded.
The large man hesitated and then indicated with a nod to
the left. "Over there ... just about to leave ... aint another one for two days
..."
Loren's brow creased in concern, then he inhaled deeply
and, cursing under his breath, began to hurry along the platform towards the
waiting coach, his carpetbag thumping against his tired old legs. His mind again
whirled with thoughts of Dorothy and then the persistent feeling that this
whole, tiresome trip might well be in vain.
************************
As Sully silently tugged Michaela toward the doorway,
she protested under her breath, "But what if Dorothy needs me ... or her
condition worsens?"
"Cloud Dancin'll know ta call ya ..."
"Yes ... but ..." She looked back over her shoulder.
Cloud Dancing sat unmoving by Dorothy's bedside, her hand held tenderly in his.
He'd taken up that position as soon as Sully had smuggled him into the
guesthouse in the guise of an injured hunter. He'd said very little, except to
thank Michaela for her care of his severely injured wife.
Sully again urged her towards the door. He hissed
insistently, "Cloud Dancin' needs ta be with her right now ... an' you need ta
get some rest ..."
Her brow creased and for a fraction of a second it
seemed that her eyes would again well with tears. Then she sighed and followed
him obediently out onto the landing. Once there, she hesitated unsure where to
go. Sully took her hand and then pulled the adjacent door open. "This is our
room," he said quietly. She nodded and preceded him in.
This room was much like the one in which she had spent
almost a week except that there was no cot in the corner and the curtains were
open, admitting the weak, fall sunshine. Sully urged her towards the bed and she
propped herself on the edge. "Reckon you aint had much sleep since gettin'
here," he murmured rhetorically. He reached for the buttons on her blouse.
Her fingers immediately closed over his, stilling them.
"What if Dorothy needs me?" she asked urgently.
He shrugged then said wryly, "They've both seen ya in
your petticoat before ..." He did not continue with the buttons, but instead
sat down beside her. Taking her hand in his, he murmured, a touch of fear in his
voice, "Do ya think she will? Need ya I mean?"
Michaela bit her lip. "Truly ... I don't know," she
replied at last. "She's been like this for so long ...
"An' that aint good ..."
She nodded her head in agreement and her hand tightened
in his. Gazing down at their linked hands, she mused softly, "This morning ...."
When she paused he prompted, "This mornin'?"
She swallowed deeply. "Her hand moved," she stated. "Her
hand clasped mine."
He swivelled to face her. "That's good aint it? It's a
good sign?"
She struggled to control her whirling emotions. "Who's
to say," she managed at last.
"But you said she moved," he asserted.
"She did ... but anything may have prompted it ... It
might indicate she is returning to consciousness ...or it may have been a reflex
only ..."
"You don' know?"
She shook her head. "After all this time ... I'm not
sure about anything," she murmured wearily, then dropped her head against his
shoulder and sighed.
There was a long thoughtful silence until Michaela
mused, "Cloud Dancing is very quiet ..." When Sully made no comment, she added,
"What are we going to do Sully ... if Dorothy ....?"
Sully's grip on her hand tightened. "She's gotta make it
Michaela ... It can't happen to him again ..."
"Yes ... but ... what if...?"
"It aint gonna happen," he reiterated vehemently.
Again Michaela sighed. At last she said, "Does he know?
I mean ... does he know it was soldiers?"
"Yeah ... he knows ... I hadta tell him ..."
"And?"
Sully shrugged. "He was angry ... whatdya expect?" he
rejoined sullenly. When Michaela's only response was a further slumping of her
shoulders, he squeezed her hand contritely. Then he added, "When I met him out
on the trail he told me they thought a couple o' soldiers mighta seen her in the
Cheyenne camp ... Now we know they did ..."
"So that's why she was beaten? Because she was seen at a
Cheyenne camp? The soldiers wouldn't have known why she was there ..."
"They obviously didn' need to ... Seein' her there was
enough ta make her the enemy ..."
Michaela swallowed and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh
Sully," she muttered. "When will all this end?"
He dropped her hand so that he could wrap his arm
tenderly around her shoulders. "Not in our lifetimes I reckon," he replied
resignedly. "Not when folks aren't prepared to listen to each other ... Cloud
Dancin' was tellin' me the Cheyenne have been meetin' with Sittin' Bull of the
Sioux."
Michaela pulled back and swivelled to face him, her face
mirroring her shock and trepidation. "Why?" she demanded, afraid she already
knew the answer.
"The Sioux are goin' ta fight ... They aint gonna let
the railway, the miners, the settlers take their land on the old Bozeman trail
... They want the Cheyenne to join 'em ..."
"Two different tribes fighting together ... I always
thought ..."
"So did I ... but there are thousands of Sioux an' they
reckon they can beat the army ... The Cheyenne would add to the number of
warriors even though there aren't a great many compared to the Sioux..."
Michaela's face reflected her disbelief. "We know what
will happen Sully ... The government will just send more and more soldiers ..."
Sully nodded. "I know it ... But the indians aint gonna
back down ..."
Michaela frowned. The future of the Sioux and the
northern Cheyenne was almost too unbearable to contemplate. At last she said,
"Cloud Dancing must know what will happen ... he could tell them ..."
"Sittin' Bull an' Crazy Horse aint gonna listen to a
Cheyenne medicine man ... they figure they can win."
Michaela abruptly stood and began to pace. "We have to
do something Sully," she exhorted.
"An' whatdya reckon that might be?" he rejoined.
She stopped and faced him. "When?" she demanded.
He frowned. "When what?"
"When is this going to happen? Is the army moving in
now? Have the Sioux and the Cheyenne already joined forces?"
Sully again shrugged. "Sounded to me like the indian
tribes were talkin' is all ... Besides ... winter's closin' in ..."
Michaela gave him a puzzled look. "What's that got to do
with it?"
"Once the snows come ... there aint gonna be any fightin'
over the land ... the railroads'll stop sendin' in their surveyors, ground's too
hard for the miners ... an' settlers can't get their wagons through ... Nothin'
much'll happen til the spring I reckon ..."
Michaela considered his words carefully. At last she
stated, " We've got time then .."
"Time?"
"To do something ..."
He gave her a rueful smile. "Aint gonna be much we can
do Michaela," he rejoined resignedly. "Neither the Indians nor the army are
gonna listen to the likes of us ..."
"But we have to try ...," she exhorted.
He rose and came to stand close to her, face to face.
"Yeah ... I guess we have ta try ... Knew there was a reason why I married you
..." When she looked puzzled, he added, "You never let me give up ..."
"We can't Sully," she reiterated. "We just can't ...
There's too much at stake ..."
He pulled her into his arms. "I know it," he agreed,
lovingly kissing the top of her head.
She pulled back to look up into his eyes. "And Cloud
Dancing? Will he join with the Northern Cheyenne and the Sioux?"
Sully gulped. "Guess it depends on a few things ... If
Dorothy don' make it ..."
"Then he'll definitely join up with them."
"Uh huh."
"And if she recovers?'
He shrugged. "I dunno ... but I can't imagine him sittin'
by when things get bad ... I know him too well."
"Mmmm ... so do I," agreed Michaela. "Oh Sully ... what
an awful situation to contemplate ..."
He again drew her close. "Spring's a long way off
Michaela ...," he advised hopefully.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Not so long
Sully," she observed fearfully under her breath.
It was not yet daylight, but Julia had been out of bed
for more than an hour and had already swept the kitchen and prepared the
breakfasts. As she had the past several mornings, she approached the door to
Dorothy Jennings’ room with trepidation. The look of hope in Dr Mike’s eyes had
gradually diminished as the days passed and Mrs Jennings’ condition did not
improve. One morning she fully expected to discover the older woman had passed
away during the night. She felt sadness at the thought. Though she had not known
her well, a simple friendship had grown between them. As she had the past
several mornings, she transferred the breakfast tray to one hand, took a deep
breath and turned the door handle.
At first she observed nothing unusual. The room was very
dim, lit only by a single lamp beside the bed. The patient lay motionless and
the most obvious odour was the ointment Dr Mike regularly used on Mrs Jennings’
injuries. She advanced a few steps into the room.
And then it hit her with a force that took her breath
away. Something *was* different, so different it made her heart miss a beat. Her
first instinct was to drop the tray and call urgently for her father, but
something made her hesitate, compelled her to remain motionless as the dark,
long-haired stranger sitting by the bedside slowly turned in his chair to face
her. And then, in the dim lamplight she looked into his eyes. They were filled
with such pain, such utter weariness and dejection. She met those dark brown
eyes for only a few seconds but something in them cut her to her soul. She
swallowed deeply, his pain like a knife in her gut, then she slowly turned on
her heel and withdrew from the sombre, grim room.
Once outside she leant on the door momentarily, her
heart beating wildly. Then, regaining some form of composure, she reached into
the deep pocket of her apron and withdrew the master key. She turned, placed the
breakfast tray on the floor and then deliberately locked the door. She stood
staring at the locked door for a moment, her thoughts whirling, before placing
the key back in the deep pocket of her apron and returning to the kitchen.
*******************************
“I hate seein’ ya so quiet an’ sad,” murmured Sully as he gently removed
Michaela’s hairbrush from her hand and resumed the rhythmic brushing.
Michaela’s brow furrowed. “My best friend is lying
gravely ill in the next room and I can’t do anything about it,” she rejoined,
her eyes filling with tears. “What if she doesn’t recover Sully?” she murmured,
beginning to tremble. “Its been so long …”
“I know it,” he replied, placing the hairbrush onto the
bed and taking her into his arms.
“I feared Cloud Dancing would come to us during the
night to tell us she’d gone …,” she murmured.
“But he didn’ … that’s good news isn’t it?”
“She’s survived all these days, but hasn’t regained
consciousness …”
“But you said she’d gripped your hand …”
“I’m beginning to think that was just a reflex …
something more should have happened by now …” She spun around to face him.
“Sully, I’ve heard you say that everything happens for a purpose … but what
purpose could God have for letting this happen? At last Cloud Dancing had found
love … a reason to go on … and then Dorothy is so badly beaten by soldiers … Not
outlaws, nor a vengeful husband … not even dog soldiers … Soldiers are supposed
to keep the peace … not destroy it …” A single tear overflowed her brimming eyes
and silently ran down her pale cheek.
He brushed it away with his thumb and replied solemnly,
“You think I understand this any better ‘an you Michaela? Cos I don’t … We’ve
seen things like this before … an’ I guess we will again … but I don’t
understand it … any more an’ you …”
Michaela rested her head against his chest and
whispered, “Just hold me Sully … please …” As he pulled her close, she murmured,
“I keep thinking … what if it was you lying there … or one of the children …”
“But it aint Michaela,” he asserted softly against her
hair. “An’ we gotta help Cloud Dancin’ any way we can … He’s gonna need us …”
“I know … but …”
He lovingly kissed her cheek. “Together Michaela … we’ll
help him together …”
She nodded and slowly inhaled. Then closing her eyes,
and in her own way, she said a short but solemn prayer. At last she turned in
his arms. “Ready?” she asked. “Perhaps today … now that Cloud Dancing is here ..
we’ll see a difference in her …”
He gave her a rueful smile. “The healing power of love
huh?” he asked softly.
“I’d like to think so,” she rejoined, taking his hand
and then opening the door of their room.
She stepped out onto the landing only to halt so quickly
that Sully almost cannoned into her back. “Michaela?” he queried immediately,
peering at the door to Dorothy’s room. Seeing nothing amiss, he queried again,
“Michaela? What’s wrong?”
She spun to face him. “We forgot Julia!” she exclaimed
anxiously. “She always brings my breakfast … first thing …” He frowned in
puzzlement and then it suddenly dawned on him as he spied the breakfast tray on
the floor outside the door. “Cloud Dancin’!” he gasped. They both made for the
door at the same instant with Michaela grasping the door handle first. “Its
locked,” she exclaimed, after rattling it several times in frustration. She
spun around to face him. “What do we do now?” she inquired urgently.
“Do you think he’s still in there?” he muttered, testing
the door handle again to make sure it was indeed locked. With that he rattled
the door vigorously and demanded in a loud whisper, “Cloud Dancin’ … you in
there?”
Both held their breath for a moment, awaiting any noise
which might indicate the medicine man’s presence. At last there was a scratching
at the door and Cloud Dancing replied softly from behind it, “I am here still.”
“Who locked ya in?!” demanded Sully.
“I did,” replied a sombre voice from behind them.
Michaela and Sully spun around to see Julia, her expression solemn. She slowly
reached into her pocket and withdrew the key. “I thought it best,” she said, not
quite meeting their eyes. She handed the key to Michaela.
“You … you’ve told your father?” inquired Michaela
nervously.
Julia took a deep breath. “No,” she replied. “Not yet …”
“Please ..,” began Sully.
She shook her head. “I won’t tell him … unless something
goes wrong …,” she continued. “He wouldn’t understand … I’m not sure I do …”
“Cloud Dancing is …,” Michaela began to explain.
Again Julia shook her head. “I don’t want to know,” she
asserted. “This town is full of soldiers … all looking for men like that …” She
nodded towards the locked door. “If there is any trouble …,” she trailed off.
“We’ll be careful,” Michaela rejoined at once.
“I think it best if you keep the door locked at all
times,” Julia suggested, her eyes meeting Michaela’s for the first time. “My
father …”
“I know … and thank-you,” replied Michaela gratefully as
she took the young woman’s hand and shook it.
“Yeah thanks,” added Sully, not quite as trustingly.
Julia glanced again at the still locked door and then
shrugged her shoulders before heading off back down the landing.
************************
“Mama?” Jamie muttered, as he licked jelly from his lips.
“Yes sweetheart,” replied Anna, sipping her breakfast
coffee.
“What’s a Sweetheart Dance?”
She handed him a napkin to wipe his chin and then
replied, “It should be a lot of fun … Everyone takes their sweetheart and there
is music to dance to and Grace will provide fresh lemonade and apple cider …”
“What’s a sweetheart then?”
“Well … its someone a person likes very much … that they
like to spend time with … and dance with …”
“So are you going to the dance? … You haven’t got a
sweetheart …”
“No … I guess I haven’t … but Hank Lawson has asked me
to attend the dance with him …”
“So Mr Lawson is going to be your sweetheart?”
Next to the little boy his Aunt Lucille smirked and then
looked disapproving. However her expression turned to dismay which Anna replied,
“Well … its hard to say … but I thought I might go to the dance with him …”
“Anna!” the older woman exclaimed. “You can’t be
serious?”
Anna shrugged good-naturedly. “We are starting a new
life here Lucille,” she rejoined determinedly. “And I wish to attend the dance.”
“Well don’t go letting that man get the wrong idea is
all I can say,” she rejoined. “After all, he runs a saloon of all things!”
“I know … his occupation isn’t one with which I would
usually be associated … but there are things about the man you don’t know …”
Lucille’s lips thinned and she muttered under her
breath, “What would my brother think?”
“James isn’t here Lucille … I wish he were … but he
isn’t … I have to make a new life now … to further my career in medicine… and
Michaela Quinn has given me the opportunity to do it …”
“Yes well …I have my doubts about her exploits also …
There are rumours that she is in the indian territory to the north …”
“And you object to that?” queried Anna with derision.
“It wasn’t too long ago that the negroes in the south welcomed champions such as
Michaela …”
Lucille had the good grace to blush. “Yes … well …,” she
muttered.
There was a long silence in the room until a small voice
piped up to ask innocently, “So Aunt Lucille … Are *you* going to the
Sweetheart’s Dance?”
********************
“I think we have to start making plans Sully,” explained Michaela with
misgiving.
“Plans?” he replied, leaning on the porch railing of the
guesthouse and peering out into the street. The afternoon light was just
beginning to fade to dusk.
“We can’t stay here indefinitely …”
“Indefinitely? I thought Dorothy …”
“Its been so long now … Unless she regains consciousness
soon …” She paused and her eyes welled with tears. She pulled herself together
to murmur in a small voice, “She’ll starve to death …”
“So there’s been no change today?”
She shook her head, striving to control her emotions.
“She may already be irreparably harmed.”
“Whatdya mean irreparably?”
“Consider it Sully … She’s been lying there for days
without food … and only the little water we finally manage to trickle down her
throat … There is only so long ….” She paused and swallowed deeply.
Sully reached out and grasped her hand that lay on the
railing. “We gotta believe,” he muttered, striving to eradicate the doubt from
his tone.
“You know me Sully … I always try to maintain my belief
…”
“That’s one of the things I love about ya …”
She turned her hand to envelop his. “But … this time …
after so long …” Again she paused. “We have to start thinking about the future
…”
“We can’t just leave Dorothy an’ Cloud Dancin’ here …”
She sighed. “I know … that’s the dilemma … I could no
more leave them here than … Oh I don’t know what to do …” She moaned in despair.
“They’re family …”
“I know they’re family Sully … but we also have family
in Colorado Springs … Family that will be missing us … as I’m missing them … The
children …” Her voice faded and her eyes misted with tears.
“Then you go home … an’ I’ll stay here,” adjured Sully.
She turned to face him. “You know I can’t do that … I
can’t leave Dorothy without a doctor … I can’t leave and not know what is
happening … and I don’t just mean about Dorothy … I just feel so helpless …”
“That’s the frustration talkin’ … Nobody likes just
waitin’ …”
“I know I sound like I’m complaining Sully … I’m sorry.
It’s just that I can’t bear to think what …”
“Then don’t …” Sully interpolated. “Like I said … ya
gotta believe …”
Again Michaela sighed and leaned lovingly against her
husband’s shoulder. For a while there was silence between them as each
contemplated what both the immediate and distant future might bring. Around them
life in Woodville went on. Piano music could be heard emanating from the saloon
some way down the street, the sound of hammer on anvil echoed from the
blacksmith’s opposite and a couple of women hurried up the steps of the
mercantile to make last minute purchases before it closed for the evening.
At last Michaela straightened and remarked tiredly, “Its
nearly time for supper … I’d better go in and see how Cloud Dancing is doing …
and to make sure I’m there to take the supper tray from Julia …” They exchanged
knowing looks. Sully nodded in agreement and they both turned towards the front
door of the guest house only to be arrested by the sound of pounding hooves in
the distance. Only seconds later a rattling, dusty stagecoach rounded the last
bend and pulled to a hasty halt in the town square. As if putting off what they
might encounter inside, both Michaela and Sully hesitated and watched with
desultory interest as the dishevelled stagecoach passengers alighted. So it was
with some astonishment that they observed the identity of the last passenger as
he stumbled from the coach, almost falling to his knees.
Sully reacted first, leaping down the guesthouse steps
and running to the stagecoach. “Loren, you alright?” he asked with concern as he
grasped the old man’s arm and relieved him of his carpet bag.
Loren quickly pulled his arm free, striving to regain
some composure. “Sure I’m alright Sully,” he replied gruffly. “Made it this far
didn’ I?” Oblivious to the fact that Sully still clasped his carpet bag, he
attempted to smooth his jacket and straighten his tie by which time Michaela was
also at his side. She linked her arm with his, ostensibly to accompany him back
to the guesthouse, and led him across the street to the steps. At the bottom, he
grasped her arm and asked urgently, fearfully, “Dr Mike …. Dorothy? Is she … is
she?” He stopped and gulped, his eyes fixed firmly on hers.
Her brow creased as she sought the
right words with which to reply.
