Chapter 35

Adrian stood in the moonlight, peering up at the dark, anonymous windows of the Beauchamp house. He'd spent the last three frustrating days trying to discover Michaela's whereabouts, his sister having been reticent in providing the information. He'd fooled her though! This afternoon, when she'd been evasive as to her destination, he'd followed her here and caught a glimpse of she and Michaela walking in the gardens behind and to the side of the house. At last he knew where Michaela's friend of the luxurious carriage lived, and a few questions in the right places had revealed the man's name and business. He had to admit, he'd been a little overwhelmed at first by the wealth and influence of Michaela's acquaintance. He still couldn't believe that she and her decidedly bucolic husband knew such a man, let alone were good enough friends that he should invite them to share his home.

His teeth suddenly clenched and his fists balled at his sides. He still felt both angry and humiliated that the Chinaman servant had refused him admittance to the house this afternoon. Despite insisting that he must speak to Miriam and Michaela urgently, he had not been invited in. In fact, he'd had to stand like some tradesman on the doorstep while the master of the house was consulted. Then, when he'd been losing patience, the menial had returned and offered to take his card to the ladies, but would not allow him to cross the threshold. Who did he think he was talking to?! He'd tried again, insisting on speaking to Mr Beauchamp himself, but had again been refused admittance on the pretext that no strangers were permitted entry to the house. He'd been offered an appointment as an alternative to providing his card, but that was as far as the Chinaman would go. Of course he'd declined the appointment, and, considering it degrading to have to provide his card like some tradesman, he'd declined that offer also. He'd stood on that doorstep, as the heavy front door swung closed in his face and seethed. How dare anyone prevent him from seeing Michaela whenever he wished it!

He'd loitered by the ornate front gate for some time after that, considering his options. Finally, deciding he'd rather not be discovered in the vicinity of the Beauchamp house by Miriam, he'd frustratedly climbed into his hired buggy and headed back into town, arriving at her home about an hour before her.

Ah Miriam! Again his jaw clenched. It seemed that she was intent on keeping Michaela all to herself, but he had a few surprises for her! For the past three days, much as he'd done today, whenever Miriam had gone out without explicitly stating her destination, he'd followed her, and discovered some interesting, useful information in the process. He wondered how her arrogant husband, Robert, would react if he was to casually drop into the conversation the fact that Miriam was working in a free clinic downtown. He smiled gleefully to himself. Tonight's conversation with his sister had assuredly signalled her downfall. How dare she question him regarding his intentions where Michaela was concerned! He pondered that humiliating conversation. Miriam had had the temerity to suggest that his feelings for Michaela were not returned and that it would be best if he leave her friend alone completely! They'd had little contact in some fifteen years and she dared to intervene in a situation about which she knew nothing! He was willing to concede that Michaela might not yet be ready to admit her feelings for him, but they were there. He knew that as assuredly as he knew he would one day make her his. He abruptly cast thoughts of his sister aside. In the scheme of things she mattered little, very little, and if she persisted in trying to make trouble she'd ultimately pay the price!

Again he peered upwards at the windows. A couple of hours back he thought he'd seen movement at one of the upper windows at the side, near the front of the house, one that faced the sea, but he couldn't be certain. There were lamps burning in the front, ground floor rooms, but those upstairs were dark, revealing nothing about who or what was behind them. Actually, he wasn't sure why he was still standing here. The sea breeze was a little cool after the rather warm day, and the few whiskies he'd consumed before setting out for here had effected his equilibrium. He just knew he had a need to see her ... just one more time before undertaking that tiresome train journey back to Colorado Springs tomorrow.

Again he abruptly seethed with anger. That's what he's been trying to do this afternoon, to just see her one more time, when that Chinaman had stopped him. His eyes narrowed and glinted in the moonlight. Perhaps it had been Michaela's husband, Byron Sully, giving the orders, stopping him from seeing her. He'd noticed the look in the oaf's eyes when he'd come across them talking in the parlour at Miriam's the other day. Sully had tried to be civil, but his eyes had given him away. The man was always in the way, and always would be, until she realised her mistake in marrying him and recognised her corresponding affection for the only one who had always loved her!

He took a deep breath, making no effort at all to quell the anger and indignation that was welling up inside him. Feeling angry made him feel alive, gave him power. He abruptly picked up one of the large stones which bordered the drive, ran forward towards the house and hurled the stone with as much force as he could muster through the large, ornate window to the left of the front door. The resultant crash resounded triumphantly through the night air, but when small curls of flame began to rise above the level of the window, his eyes widened in dismay, and after standing for some seconds rooted to the ground in shock, he took off down the drive at speed, wrenching open the gate and jumping into his buggy to head for town before anyone spied who the perpetrator actually was.

*******************
Sully sat bolt upright in bed, it taking only a second to register in his consciousness that it had been the smashing of glass in the room below theirs that had woken him. He immediately jumped out of bed, reaching for his clothes.

Michaela too woke with a start, as the crash and then Sully's abrupt reaction registered with her also. "What was that?" she called fearfully, realising that Sully was struggling to pull on his buckskin trousers and moccasins in the dim light.

"Somethin' crashed downstairs ... you stay there an' look after William ... I'll go check," replied Sully, heading for the door with exigency. Before she could respond he was gone.

He took the curved stairs in a series of urgent bounds, arriving in the foyer within seconds. He immediately made for the room from which he deduced the sound had come. He thrust the door open and his heart pounded when he saw the flames creeping stealthily up the thick, velvet drapes by the broken window.

Without further thought, he ran across the room and began to tug at the heavy curtains, endeavouring to bring them down from their twenty foot high rod. The flames, growing higher and more fierce by the second, were starting to enjoy their feast, leaping merrily upward and, fuelled by spilled lamp oil and the summer breeze, were creeping sideways over the polished walnut table towards the fabric-covered wooden furniture. A final desperate tug brought the drapes crashing down to the floor, a burning section falling across his right shoulder as they fell. With his bare hands he laboured in the darkness and the smoke to fold the heavy material in on itself, smothering the flames. He was scarcely conscious of movement behind him as he continued his struggle to extinguish the blazing curtains. At last the flames were reduced to small tongues of fire he stamped out angrily with his leather clad feet, while beside him Mr Beauchamp and Yi endeavoured to contain the fire which had taken hold of the walnut side-table and was inching towards the floor. Dousing the flames with the water from several vases which had adorned the room, and then smothering it with another section of curtain, they managed to snuff it out, leaving the table smouldering and badly scarred.

Finally satisfied that the flames were extinguished and no longer likely to leap to life, Sully bent over, his hands resting gingerly on his knees, and took deep, calming breaths. His heart was still pounding, and now that the emergency was over, the stinging pain across his burnt shoulder and in his hands was beginning to make its presence felt.

"Sully?" muttered Mr Beauchamp, his breath coming in anxious gasps. "Are you alright?"

Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded and then gradually straightened up, pain searing through the flesh across his shoulder. "You?" he finally asked, his voice thin and croaky from the smoke.

The elderly man nodded and, by the moonlight streaming in through the shattered window, surveyed the damage to his elegant room. He swallowed deeply and said, his voice low and hurt, "Who would do such a thing?"

Sully, his expression pained, also surveyed the damage to the picture window, expensive curtains, polished wooden floor, oriental rug, and walnut side-table. He bent to pick up the large, jagged rock that had smashed the window and two of its wooden cross-stays. "Someone real angry," he muttered under his breath. He turned to face Mr Beauchamp. "You had anythin' like this happen before?" he asked guardedly.

The man, who seemed to have aged ten years since supper, shook his head. "No ... never," he replied dispiritedly. He suddenly slumped down into a large chair and rested his head back against the fine fabric. "Its always been so peaceful here," he murmured. "I can't think of anyone who would stoop to this ..."

Sully unconsciously regarded his blackened and blistering hands, barely visible in the dimly lit room. "I can," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr Beauchamp indignantly.

Sully frowned, finding it difficult to meet his host's eyes. "We turned someone away this afternoon ... someone who wanted ta git in here ... an' we wouldn' let him ...," he theorised quietly.

"You mean this acquaintance of Michaela's? The one who *annoys* her?" the elderly man asked, his tone portraying his shock. "He'd resort to this?"

Sully shrugged and immediately winced in pain. "Don' know ... but it seems a strange coincidence ... don' ya reckon ..."

A quiet, distressed voice from the doorway interrupted the two men's hypothesising. "You didn't tell me Adrian was here this afternoon," accused Michaela bleakly, her eyes suspiciously bright. Both men spun to see her standing silhouetted in the doorway, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. "You should have told me ..."

Sully took a couple of steps towards her, hiding his smarting hands behind his back as he did so. "You were with Miriam ... You knew we'd decided not ta let him in if he turned up ...," he rationalised quietly.

"You still should have mentioned it," she insisted quietly. Her brow creased as she fought to hold back her tears. "Do you *really* think him capable of this?" she asked, finally gazing around at the charred damage to the room.

"I dunno," he replied immediately. "You know him better 'an anyone ... Do *you*?"

She took a deep breath. "I don't know either ... I told you he's unpredictable ..."

"Have you known him ta be violent before ... when he don' git his way?" Sully persisted.

She swallowed. "Perhaps," she replied in a small voice.

"Perhaps?!" he exclaimed, his voice rising.

"I don't know Sully," she rejoined plaintively. "I suspected ... but I never knew ... for sure ..." She stepped into the room and then just stood there, obviously undecided about what to do or say.

Sully observed her distress and the anger that had been building in him abruptly dissipated. "The kids?" he asked. "They alright?"

She nodded mutely.

He took another step towards her. "They wake up ... with the commotion?"

She swallowed. "Brian did ... he smelled smoke ... so he picked up Katie and came looking for me ... I did the same with William ... When I found the fire was out down here I sent him back upstairs with the little ones," she replied dully. She finally stepped fully into the room, and as a silent tear rolled down her cheek, she murmured, "Oh God Sully ... this is my fault ..."

"No it aint Michaela," he said quietly. "We don' know who did it ... I was only guessin' ..."

Mr Beauchamp abruptly stood. "Sully's right Michaela ... We have no idea who actually did this ... and even if it was this man you talk about ... *he* did it ... not you ..."

"But if we hadn't been here ..."

"I have enjoyed your family's company more than I can say Michaela, Sully ... This damage can easily be rectified ... its not important," he assured her with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Sully opened his mouth to speak, but did not get the opportunity as Yi re-entered the room. "No person outside Mr Beauchamp," he reported. "But front gate open ..." When his boss nodded, he asked, "You want me fix boards on window?"

For a moment the elderly man stood peering out into the moonlit night. "No," he replied at last. "We're lucky the night is warm and dry ... I'll have someone come in to fix it tomorrow ..."

"I'd like ta help with that sir," offered Sully quietly. "An' with the table ... aint gonna be much good with the curtains though .." He gave a rueful smile. "If me an' Michaela *are* responsible in some way ... I'd like ta make it up to ya any way I can ..."

"As I've already said Sully ... I do not hold you ... or Michaela ... responsible at all ... but if you wish to oversee the repairs ... so be it ...," rejoined Mr Beauchamp, momentarily holding his fingers against his eyes.

"Are you alright sir?" asked Michaela immediately.

"My eyes are stinging a little from the smoke ... that's all," he replied tiredly. "Lack of sleep may be a factor also ..."

Back on familiar territory, Michaela stepped closer. "Make sure you rinse your eyes out with cool water before you go back to bed," she said with concern. "There may be some grit ... from the fire ..."

He nodded. "I'll do that," he said wearily. "I believe there's nothing more we can do here until morning ... I think I will retire to my bed ..."

"You want me stay here?" asked Yi, still obviously concerned about the broken window.

"No ... whoever did this will be long gone ... You go back to bed too Yi," Mr Beauchamp instructed. He turned to his guests. "Sully ... I want to thank you for your quick action ... if you hadn't got down here as quickly as you did, the damage could have been so much worse ... in fact even tragic ..."

Sully shrugged his shoulders self-consciously and then again winced with pain. After a deep breath, he said quietly, "Guess me an' Michaela oughta think o' headin' home in the next day or so ... neither of us could take it if somethin' else happened ..."

"Miriam said Adrian's going home on the morning train," interjected Michaela, her tone subdued.

"Can we be sure o' that?" muttered Sully wryly. "You said he's unpredictable ..."

"I guess not," she rejoined dejectedly. "Perhaps we should leave in the morning too ..."

Mr Beauchamp shook his head. "Your husband has already offered to oversee the repairs tomorrow ... Besides ... I'd have thought you'd want to avoid any chance of being on the same train with him all the way home ..."

Michaela involuntarily shuddered, yet added, "You've been so hospitable ... I ... we ..."

"I have enjoyed having you here," the older man interjected decisively. "We are all tired and a little overwrought ... things will not look nearly as bad in the morning ... in the daylight. Goodnight Michaela ... Sully ..." With that he assumed his usually dignified carriage and exited the room.

********************
Sully plunged his burnt and blistered hands into the china bowl of cool water on the dresser and didn't know whether to sigh or moan in pain. The water was at once soothing and excruciating. Behind him, he realised that Michaela was lighting the lamps. "No need for that," he said quietly.

"You'll need to wash up," she said, her tone subdued.

"William'll wake .."

"It won't take him long to go back to sleep if he does ..."

As she neared he braced himself for the inevitable exclamations when she saw his shoulder. He didn't have to see it to know that it was already blistering, the pain now so constant as to make him feel slightly nauseous. As expected, he heard her gasp and then, much to his surprise she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. He sighed with relief. His whole body, now reacting to the trauma of the past half hour or so, felt heavy with tiredness and his mind foggy.

As best he could, he washed away the soot from his hands and then examined his palms and fingers. The blisters were already tight and full, but not as big or angry as he'd expected. He turned slightly so that he could look at his shoulder in the dresser mirror, and took a deep breath. Perhaps his hands weren't quite as bad as he'd thought, but his shoulder was exactly the opposite. Not only were there several very large, angry blisters, but in a couple of places the skin had already broken, revealing weeping, red rawness beneath. He was at a loss as to what to do. Twisting to reach the damaged skin was excruciating, besides which the blistering on his fingers meant they weren't quite as sensitive to touch as was needed. He leant forward, his elbows on the dresser and took another deep, calming breath. His head flew up when he heard Michaela re-enter the room. Their eyes met for just a second, but it was enough for him to realise that she'd been weeping.

She walked across the room carrying a bowl covered with a cloth, and a pile of soft cloths. "Sit on the side of the bed," she said softly. Too tired to resist, or to ask what she intended to do, he did as she asked, his body threatening to crumple wearily. She sat behind him and he heard her wring out a cloth and then it was placed over the burnt skin. He gasped in shock, his whole body tensing at the assault, and he twisted round to see that the water in the bowl she'd carried contained several large pieces of ice.

"We need to cool it down Sully," she said softly, leaving the cloth only a few more seconds before removing it and repeating the treatment. Gradually, as some of the ferocity of the burn lessened, she left the damp, soothing cloth longer on the effected area. She did not speak, did not try to comfort, but after a time, her hand crept around his waist and she rested her cheek on the other shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered at last.

He grasped her hand as best he could and rejoined tiredly, "It aint your fault ..."

She pulled back, changed the cloth and then resumed her position up close against him. "It feels like it is," she murmured. He felt a tear roll down his back and then she added, "This is between Adrian and I ... but its effected you ... Mr Beauchamp ... Miriam .."

He took a deep breath. "Ya can't say that Michaela ... whatever effects you effects me ... you know that ... As for Mr Beauchamp an' Miriam ... they don' blame you for anythin' .."

She eased back off the bed and stood. "Perhaps they should," she rejoined dispiritedly, moving around to face him. She lifted his hands to examine them and tears once again welled in her eyes. She placed another cloth into the ice-water and then laid it over his left hand, repeating the action for the right.

He longed to reach out and draw her close, to hold her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. Instead, he sat uselessly on the side of the bed, covered in cold, damp cloths, watching her hurting.

She walked across and picked up her medical bag, rifled through it for the tin of ointment she sought and then came back to gently rub the medicated cream over the blisters on his hands and shoulder. Next she bound his hands loosely in clean white bandage. "If you're careful your hands should heal quickly," she said quietly. "You'll need to keep the skin clean ..." She tied the bandage off and stood. "I'm not going to bandage your shoulder though ... not yet anyway ... it needs the air on it ... If you wear one of your softest shirts over it tomorrow it should stay clean enough and yet still be able to breath." He nodded, looked down at his bandaged hands and heaved a sigh. "If you stand ... I'll help you with your trousers," she said quietly, none of her usual coquettishness in such a request. He did as she suggested, and once divested of his moccasins and trousers, painfully eased back against the pillows, laying on his left side.

Michaela walked quickly around the room, checking on William and then blowing out the lamps. When the room was once more only lit by the moon, she shucked off her robe and crawled tiredly into bed behind him. A little later she edged over and spooned herself into his back, her hand resting tenderly at his waist. He raised his arm slightly, drew hers further forward to tuck it under his and then settled to sleep. It wasn't long at all before she sensed his breathing deepen, but there would be little sleep for Michaela this night, as she tussled with the problem of what to do about Mr Adrian Tilson.

Chapter 36

Mrs Green shuffled up the hallway to the front door in response to insistent knocking, and pulled it open. Her face at once broke into a smile. "Mr Sully!" she exclaimed. "Come in ..."

Sully stepped across the threshold and then asked peremptorily, "I was wonderin' if Mr Tilson were in ..."

She stopped and turned to face him. "No .. no ... he's not ... I think he left on this mornin's train ...," she replied. "Wait here an' I'll get the missus ..." She went bustling off down the hallway again towards the rear of the house.

Much as Sully didn't really want to talk to Miriam right now, he needed to know whether Tilson had indeed left for Colorado Springs. There was an anger building inside him he wasn't sure he could control and having decided that the family, and especially Michaela, might well be in danger from this irrational man, he had to know where he was and, if he was still in San Francisco, have it out with him. The Cheyenne had taught him to always learn of the enemy's location, to eliminate any chance of a surprise attack, and so, without Michaela's knowledge, he'd decided to come here to her friend's home to gain such information. He hungered for the opportunity to confront Tilson, to see him squirm as he told him a few home truths about his non-existent place in Michaela's life. He clenched his fists at his side and took a couple of deep calming breaths.

Miriam came hurrying up the hall, wiping her hands on her apron. "Good morning Sully," she said with a smile. "Is Michaela with you?" She held out her hand to him and was surprised when he held up his bandaged hands apologetically. "What have you done?" she exclaimed with concern.

"Uh ... there was a little accident at the house last night ... aint nothin'," he rejoined self-consciously, his demeanour tense. "Michaela an' the kids are back there ... I ... I was wonderin' if I could speak with your brother ...," he added.

Miriam frowned. "Didn't Michaela tell you? ... He went back to Colorado Springs on this morning's train," she replied.

He bit his lip and then asked pointedly, "Ya saw him to the station?"

"Well no ... but Billy took him there," she rejoined. "Is something the matter Sully?"

"To be truthful ... I aint sure," he muttered warily. Deciding to be honest, he asked, a touch of accusation in his tone, "Did ya know he turned up at Mr Beauchamp's while you were there with Michaela yesterday?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No ... no .. I didn't," she replied. "He made no mention of it ... I wasn't aware he knew about your friend at all ... I certainly didn't tell him where I was going ..."

"Musta followed ya there .... He was real angry when Yi wouldn't let him in ..."

She took a deep breath. "Did he do something Sully? Is that why you want to speak with him?"

"Honestly ... I aint sure ...," he replied a little tersely. "I could be here on a wild-goose chase ... but somethin' tells me I aint ..."

Miriam indicated with her hand that he enter the parlour. "Perhaps you'd better tell me what's going on," she said with concern, as she sank into the wingback chair opposite him. When he remained silent, she prompted, "What exactly happened to your hands?"

He took a deep breath. "There was a fire ... round midnight," he replied shortly.

"A fire!? Was anyone hurt? Are Michaela and the children alright?" she exclaimed anxiously.

He held up his bandaged hand to silence her. "They're alright," he assured her. "We managed to git the fire out pretty quick ..."

"So your hands are burnt?"

"Uh huh ... Michaela says they won't take long ta heal though ..."

She nodded and then lowered her eyes to her own hands where they lay clenched in her lap. At last she said bleakly, "And you think Adrian had something to do with the fire ..."

"We don' really know ... only that it seems a strange coincidence ... specially when Mr Beauchamp aint had anythin' like this happen before ..."

"He's a wealthy and powerful man Sully," she said quietly. "Powerful men make enemies ..."

"That could be the case ... but it still seems a strange coincidence," he rejoined. He looked across into her eyes. "So Tilson was here last night?" he asked, a decided edge to his voice.

She immediately looked away. At last she said in a small voice, "He went out ..."

"When?"

She shrugged. "After supper ..."

"Did ya hear him come home?"

She shook her head. "He's inclined to stay out late ... I don't wait up for him ... or ask where's he's been ... He's always resented anyone doing that ...," she returned. "How did the fire start?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Someone threw a stone through a front window ... knocked over a lamp ... an' the curtains caught ...," he replied matter-of-factly.

She shook her head. "I sincerely hope it wasn't Adrian," she murmured, swallowing.

"Have ya ever known him ta be violent before?" he asked, coming straight to the point.

"No!" she replied adamantly, and then qualified her response, "Of course ... its been more than fifteen years since I moved out here ..."

"So ... when he was a kid?"

"He was one of those quiet boys ... almost timid ...," she mused. "He didn't have many friends ... but was devoted to his little dog ... a spaniel ... I remember the day the little thing died ... He carried it into the house, cradling it in his arms ... crying ... he was inconsolable ..."

"How'd it die?"

Her brow furrowed in thought. "I don't remember," she said quietly. "Perhaps it was run over by a carriage or something ...."

"Ya never saw him hurt it ... or maybe another kid?"

"No ... never ... He had a temper ... I was well aware of that ... I couldn't tell you the number of times I was in trouble with my parents after he told tales ... but I never saw him do anything violent ...," she returned. She suddenly blushed. "It feels awful to be discussing my brother like this," she said softly. "But I know he's been worrying Michaela ... she said as much yesterday ..."

"I gotta tell ya Miriam ... if I ever find out it was him threw that stone last night an' started the fire ....," confessed Sully. "I ... I ..."

She reached out to lay her hand over his bandaged one. "As I said ... I sincerely hope it wasn't ... I find it hard to believe he'd stoop so low," she said quietly. "But I can't blame you for being angry ... your family was in danger ..."

"Yeah ... they were ... we all were," he said, angrily. "Includin' our host .."

Again Miriam leant forward. "You must remember that you're only guessing it was Adrian," she said softly. "It may not have been ... he might be quite innocent ..."

Sully frowned and then conceded her words with a nod.

She sat back a little and then said, "So what are your plans now?"

"I offered ta help with the repairs at Mr Beauchamp's house ... it's the least I can do ... then we'll probably head home too ...," he said tensely.

Miriam nodded. "I'll try to come out and visit with Michaela this afternoon ... she must be feeling upset over what happened last night ..." She paused and then added, "I hate doing this ... but I'll check with Billy about taking my brother to the station this morning ... If I have any reason to think he might still be here in San Francisco ... I'll let you know this afternoon .. alright?"

Sully abruptly stood. "Thanks Miriam," he said gratefully. "I understand its real hard for ya ... but I want ya ta know Michaela's grateful for your friendship .. an' that ya believe in her ..."

Miriam also stood to face him. "We've been friends for a long time Sully ... she is very dear to me ... I told her yesterday I was worried about Adrian ... and what he was doing in Colorado Springs ..."

He backed towards the door. "I better be goin' ... I'm supposed ta be gittin' the things we need ta fix the window an' table ..." As Miriam pulled open the front door, he added quietly, "You're right ... Michaela *is* pretty upset ... she thinks its all her fault ... I'm sure she'd be glad ta see ya this afternoon ... oh ... an' I didn' tell her I was comin' here this mornin' ..."

Miriam nodded and then watched thoughtfully as he strode down the street, away from the house.

*********************
Sully, from his vantage point on a ladder at the parlour window, watched Michaela and Miriam as they strolled in the gardens to the side of the house, a vivacious Katie skipping alongside. To the accompaniment of hammering from Stephens, the carpenter hired to make the repairs, he pondered the current situation. He was worried about Michaela. It was unlike her to withdraw into a shell and yet that's what she appeared to be doing. She was usually the one who came out fighting when adversity struck. Admittedly though, he had seen it happen before - after Washita, and when she'd been shot by that madman seeking revenge on doctors. His brow creased. He never wanted to go through something like that again.

He changed position slightly, trying to ease the pain in his hands and shoulder as he supported the new pane of glass in place so the edging could be finished off by Stephens. Again he focussed on the two women. Michaela had been very quiet all day. Someone who didn't know her well would probably put her lethargy down to the broken and traumatic night, but he knew better. In the end he'd told her about seeking out Tilson this morning, if for nothing else than to gain a reaction from her. Just for a second the familiar fire had sparked in her eyes, but it had faded just as quickly as it had come. She'd asked dully whether he'd been there, had shown little or no reaction to the news that he hadn't, and then apparently lost interest. His jaw clenched. There had been times today when his anger at Tilson and the havoc he'd wreaked had threatened to boil over ....

He grimaced as the lifting of his arms to hold the new pane of glass caused the tender skin on his burnt shoulder to stretch, and pain seared through it once more. He momentarily closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again to observe the two women sit themselves on a wooden bench in the shade of one of the giant elms. Michaela was cradling William who had been a little restless himself this morning, perhaps reacting to some tension in his mother. At Miriam's request, Michaela passed him over and he watched as the two women cooed over the baby boy. While Miriam bounced him on her knee, the two women conversed and then Miriam reached out and took Michaela's hand comfortingly. Perhaps she was having some success in getting through to her friend, because he certainly hadn't each time he'd tried today.

"Pa ... let me do that ... reachin' up must be hurtin' ya hands an' shoulder," offered Brian worriedly from behind Sully.

Sully painfully twisted round to peer down at the boy who was standing at the foot of the ladder. "Didn' know you were back son," he said with a wan smile. "Did ya have a good mornin'?"

The boy's face broke into a wide smile. "It was great pa ... Mr Beauchamp showed me over a ship called 'Mistral' ... its loadin' up to sail to the Hawaiian Islands tomorra ..."

Sully nodded and asked, "Mr Beauchamp come back with ya?"

Brian shook his head. "Nah .. said he hadta meet with someone about one of his ships ... he'll be another coupla hours .." He decided to try again. "I can do that pa ... you're just supportin' it aint ya? Let me help ..."

Finally Sully nodded, and slowly, and more awkwardly than usual, descended the ladder. The young man immediately clambered up and assumed his father's former position. "This right pa?" he asked.

"Uh huh," replied Sully, peering up at him. While Stephens resumed his hammering, Sully mused, "The Mistral huh? Big ship?"

"Gigantic," exclaimed Brian excitedly. "You wouldn' believe what fits on one of them ships pa ... there's a kitchen ... called a galley on board ship ... an' eatin' quarters ... then there's the place where they all sleep ... in hammocks swingin' from huge wooden beams ... an' down below ... where all the cargo's stored ... its real cold an' damp an' smelly ... reckon there'd be rats an' things down there ..." He shuddered and then added, "I didn' stay down there very long ... I dunno how some o' the men stand it ..."

Sully smiled. "So you're not gonna run away ta sea son?"

Brian grinned. "Not yet anyways," he replied with a chuckle. "You ever bin on a ship pa?"

Sully rolled his eyes. "Was born on one," he replied quietly. "So's I don' remember anythin' about it .."

"Born on one!?" exclaimed Brian.

"Uh huh ... somewhere between London England ... an' New York ..."

"Do ya know the name o' the ship?"

"Nah ... ma never said ... an' I don' have any o' her papers ..."

Brian shook his head wonderingly and then nodded in relief when Stephens indicated that he'd finished the window. He carefully descended the ladder to stand next to Sully. "Must be kinda strange not knowin' somethin' like that," he mused.

Sully ruffled the boy's hair and then winced and flexed his blistered hand. "It aint so bad ... never was one for needin' ta know such things," he replied.

Brian nodded, conceding that point, before saying quietly, "Wouldn' mind makin' a trip on a big ship one day ... I wonder how it feels ta be out there in the middle o' the ocean ... no land in sight? I reckon it'd feel kinda weird ... like you were in another world ..."

Sully smiled at his thoughtful son. "Wouldn' surprise me ta see you head off ta England ... or maybe Australia one day," he rejoined quietly. "Ya got a sense of adventure in ya ... wantin' ta try new things ... see new things ..." Brian blushed self-consciously and shrugged his shoulders, prompting Sully to add, "That aint a bad thin' mind you ... better 'an bein' so wrapped up in your own world that ya miss out on what's goin' on around ya ..." He rested his arm across Brian's shoulders.

"So what are your plans for the rest o' the day huh?"

"Thought I'd help you," the boy rejoined immediately.

Sully nodded gratefully. "We got quite a bit o' work ta be done on this table ... an' then the cleanin' up," he detailed. "An' Brian ... I was wonderin' if ya could do somethin' else for me?"

"Course pa," he rejoined instantly. "Name it ..."

"I was wonderin' if after Miriam goes home ... you could look after the kids for a time ... while me an' ya ma go for a walk .... We need ta talk I reckon ..."

Brian looked up at him. "She's upset about what happened last night aint she?" he observed with concern. "I could tell this mornin' ... she was real quiet ..." Sully nodded and Brian went on, "I heard you an' ma talkin' last night ... on the way back to your room ... you really think Mr Tilson from the Chateau had somethin' ta do with it?"

Sully smiled wryly. "We don' know Brian ... but he's bin doin' some things lately might lead ya ta think it ..."

"Why would he do that pa?"

Sully shrugged. "I don' really know Brian ... 'cept he seems ta have this thing for your ma ... wants ta be near her ... watches her ..."

"That why he suddenly turned up here ... in San Francisco?"

"Probably ... we don' know anythin' for sure ..."

"But why would he try to hurt ma ... with the fire an' all ?"

"Reckon that mighta bin a mistake ... maybe was angry enough ta throw the rock ... but didn' know it was gonna knock over the lamp an' start a fire ..."

Brian nodded thoughtfully. He looked up into his father's worried face with concern. "So what happens now? ... I mean ... maybe he'll try an' do somethin' else ...," he suggested anxiously.

"We think he went home on the train this mornin' Brian," rejoined Sully.

There was a slight relaxing of the young man's features, before his brow once more furrowed worriedly. "But he'll be there when we git home ... What if he tries somethin' then?"

"We're gonna haveta deal with it then Brian ...," Sully assured him. "Truth is ... that's one o' the things I wanna talk to your ma about ... I don' want you worryin' yourself with it anyways ... As I said ... maybe he had nothin' ta do with this mess after all ..."

Brian failed to look convinced. "I don' want anythin' happenin' to ma ... or anyone," he said quietly.

Sully pulled him close. "I aint gonna let anythin' happen to any o' you," he affirmed quietly. "Everythin'll be just fine ..."

*******************
Sully grasped Michaela's hand tightly in his own as they carefully descended the rocky path down to the shore. The going was steep and in some places a little treacherous, so there was little said. Once on the wide, sandy beach, he drew her close and they ambled in silence along the hard-packed sand only recently revealed by the ebbing tide in the late afternoon sun. It had been a little cooler today, and there was a slight chill to the sea breeze, so Michaela pulled her shawl closer about herself as they walked. It was apparent she was lost in her thoughts, and Sully was finding it difficult to put into words what he wanted to say. At last he halted and, drawing her up the beach to the soft sand, he beckoned her to sit. As soon as she did so, he sat himself behind her, encircling her with his legs and drawing her back against his chest. He felt her take several deep breaths and then finally relax into his embrace.

For a long time they sat, gazing out over the wind-rippled water, their thoughts most likely on the same subject. At last Sully said quietly against her ear, "So what are we gonna do now Michaela?"

She swallowed and said softly, "I don't know ..."

"We gotta decide how we're gonna handle him when we git home," he advised calmly.

"Perhaps he wasn't the one who threw the rock through the window," she murmured hopefully.

"I guess we'll never know," he offered.

"Miriam said he definitely left on the morning train ... Billy carried his bags on and watched him find his seat," Michaela informed him.

"That's good ... at least he can't surprise us agin while we're here."

Michaela nodded and then swallowed. "Miriam told me something else ...," she said in a small voice.

"What's that?" asked Sully, tenderly caressing her arms, knowing by the tone of her voice that something else was worrying her.

She dropped her head back against his shoulder and answered softly, "Billy told her they left the house nearly an hour early ... Adrian asked him to drive by here ... they stopped at the gate and Adrian peered down towards the house for a few minutes ... then they left for the train station ..."

"So's he could check how much damage the fire did," finished Sully with disgust.

"We don't know that ...," rejoined Michaela wistfully. "If he did start the fire ..." She paused, took a deep breath, then went on, "Surely he'd have raised an alarm ... we could have all perished ..."

"Look Michaela ... there aint any understandin' the man ... All we know is he's wanted ta make a nuisance of himself since he arrived here ... an' maybe when he couldn' git his way he ...."

Michaela shuddered again. "I just feel like this is all my fault ... Somewhere ... sometime ... he's gained the impression that I have feelings for him ... Even after all these years .... he believes that .... I swear I've never led him on ...."

Sully gently kissed her temple. "I know that," he said assuredly, lovingly. "It aint like you to do that ... at least knowingly ... Fact is I'm startin' ta wonder if this fella's sane Michaela ... an' if he aint ... we gotta be on our guard ..."

"He wasn't too bad before we came away," she pondered.

"Seems ta me he's gittin' worse ... maybe buildin' up ta somethin' ..."

She turned startled eyes on him. "Like what?!" she exclaimed.

"I dunno yet," he replied. "But when we git home ... we gotta be real careful ... We're lucky we got so many family an' friends ...."

She turned so she could lay her cheek against his shoulder. "I couldn't stand it if someone got hurt because of me," she said softly.

"No-one's gonna git hurt .... Besides it wouldn' be cos o' you ... it'd be cos o' *him* ..."

"It doesn't feel that way ..."

"Well we gotta decide what we're gonna do ... Maybe we could write ta Senator Dinston ... tell him what his employee's doin' ...," suggested Sully.

Michaela peered up into his eyes. "And what *is* his employee doing?" she asked wryly.

"Startin' fires ..."

"We don't know that .."

"Turnin' up where he aint wanted ..."

"That's hardly a crime ..."

"Worryin' you ..."

"Neither's that ..."

Sully shook his head ruefully. "We got a problem then aint we?" he remarked dryly.

Michaela abruptly straightened in his embrace. "Yes ... and I'm going to deal with it," she said, suddenly decisive. "I'm tired of just letting him get away with this ... when we get home I'm going to talk to him ... tell him what I really think about his actions ..."

"You aint doin' that without me bein' there," rejoined Sully, equally determined.

"Perhaps in the next room?" she suggested. "Give me a chance to have it out with him once and for all ... please ..."

Looking dubious, Sully muttered. "Long as I'm close, real close ..."

She rested her head under his chin and tucked her hand inside his shirt against bare skin. "That's fine with me," she said softly. "I feel better now I've decided to act, rather than react to what he does ..."

"Yeah ... well ... I aint sure I do," returned Sully wryly. "But you're right ... we can't just leave things the way they are ... we'd be lookin' over our shoulders for who knows how long ... That aint the way I wanna live ... an' it aint the way my family should haveta live ..."

Michaela tilted her head up to kiss his chin. "I'm sorry," she said again, softly.

He hugged her tight. "Like I said before ... it aint your fault ... its *his* ... an' one way or another, he's gonna git what's comin to him ...," he rejoined, a touch of his earlier anger in his tone. "Aint no-one gonna spoil what we have ... what our family has ..."