The afternoon skies overhead were grey and heavy and a cold wind whistled through the thick trees, doing little to lift Cloud Dancing's spirits as he rode back towards his camp at Palmer Creek. Over his shoulder was a looped, leather thong, on the end of which dangled three, fresh trout. The fishing had been good today and initially the conversation between he and Sully companionable. However, all afternoon an increasingly intrusive and offensive noise had resounded throughout the woods, sinking their spirits and making them both all too well aware of their indeterminate futures. At last Sully, unable to ignore the constant, discordant echo of axe against tree, had made his excuses and left for town where there was to be a Town Council meeting. Cloud Dancing smiled wryly to himself. He was all too well aware of his brother's dislike for such gatherings, but it seemed any excuse would do. After Sully's departure, he had tried valiantly to find a place inside himself that would shut out the distressing noise, but he too had finally given up and mounted his horse to head back to camp.

Now, as he reached the stream which meandered in one direction back to his Palmer Creek home and in the other through the most easterly section of Preston Lodge's newly acquired land, he hesitated. He glanced up at the leaden sky and decided that the rain would probably hold off for a couple more hours. Curiosity won out. He would follow the stream to the site of the new lumber mill and see for himself what damage was being done and how far along they were with the new operation. He rode slowly, all the while aware of the ever-increasing, unfamiliar noises pervading the usually peaceful woods. After fifteen minutes of so, it wasn't only sound that offended his senses. Here and there were sections of forest where the trees had already been roughly cut, the jagged stumps the only indication of what had once been. They were being selective it seemed, at least at the beginning. He could just see it - the tallest, strongest, straightest would be taken, and the weak left to survive on their own, until they too were finally wanted. He drew his horse to a halt. Perhaps he'd already seen enough, but the sound of hammering up ahead changed his mind. He was too close now to leave without taking a look.

Approaching the new mill site with caution, Cloud Dancing slid from his horse and led it into a thicket where he tethered it to a branch, then continued on foot. At last, through a gap in the bushes, he could see the mill. His breath caught in his throat. A huge yard had been prepared by felling every tree some fifty yards back and up from the stream. To the right, the largest barn he had ever seen was being built, its walls competing with the tall trees, its roof only partly in place. Smaller buildings, most likely offices and living quarters for the workers, were in various stages of completion. Down near the edge of the stream a fully laden, long, wide wagon sat, obviously awaiting unloading. Its contents were covered in thick canvas, but something in the middle lifted the heavy covering some twenty feet into the air, making it resemble a giant, but crude tipi. Seven or eight men were working on the new buildings, the sounds of their hammers and saws and their shouts to one another disrupting what had once been a peaceful and balanced place.

A loud, tearing sound caused Cloud Dancing to peer worriedly to the left, behind the buildings, where he saw a team of mules slowly appear, their muscles straining with the effort of dragging two large, trimmed logs through the edge of the woods. Driven by a large, beefy man with a whip, they ever so slowly edged the logs down through the clearing to the growing, chocked pile already awaiting the completion of the mill. It was then that the medicine man's eyes opened wide in horror and his heart began to pound. Without thinking, he pushed through the bushes behind which he'd been standing and rushed towards the man driving the mule team. "Not there!" he yelled warningly. "You must not put them there!" The man stood stock still in shock as the indian ran towards him waving his arms. "You must not put them there!" insisted Cloud Dancing once more. When the worker was unresponsive, he took a deep breath and asked resolutely, "Where is the man in charge?"

"Right here behind ya ... now put ya hands up where I can see 'em an' turn around real slow," commanded a deep, menacing voice.

Cloud Dancing froze momentarily and then did as the voice demanded. He turned to see a large, ruddy-faced man whose hands were tightly gripping a rifle aimed squarely at his chest. The man's dark eyes were narrowed to slits and his brow creased in anger and suspicion. "What're ya doin' here injun?" he asked, his voice steely.

Cloud Dancing took a deep breath and then replied calmly, "I came to warn you ..."

The man gave a derisive laugh, displaying a row of yellow and crooked teeth. "What? ... One o' your spirits gonna magic us all away or somethin'?" he sneered. "I heard about the likes o' you ..."

The medicine man shook his head. "It will not be the spirits who will do that," he replied ambiguously. "It is dangerous for you to store this pile of logs here."

"Oh it is, is it?" mocked the man. "Well I bin workin' in the lumber business since I was twelve ... How long've you bin at it?..." He cocked his rifle. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn' shoot ya for trespassin' ..."

"You would shoot a man for trying to help you?" queried Cloud Dancing with disgust. "Is Mr Lodge here?"

The man's eyes narrowed impossibly further. "You know the boss?"

Cloud Dancing nodded. "From Colorado Springs ... I have friends there ..."

"Friends!? You?!"

"That's right ..." He peered up into the dark skies above. "Mr Lodge may be interested in what will happen when the heavy rain comes ..."

The man snorted with disgust. "Alright then ... You go tell Mr Lodge what ya wanna tell him ... makes no difference ta me ... He aint gonna pay you no more mind 'an me ... Now git outta here ... an' don' come back ..."

Cloud Dancing was torn. Despite the antagonism displayed by the man, he didn't want to see anyone get hurt. He tried one more time. "If you would listen ... the rain ..."

The man cut him off. "I said git outta here ... or I'll put a bullet in ya ... you hear?" He lifted his rifle once more.

Cloud Dancing raised his hands in surrender, his heart heavy. Why was the white man so afraid to listen? He dejectedly made his way back to the thicket where he'd tethered his horse, mounted and rode down to the edge of the stream. When he glanced back, the man's eyes and rifle were still fixed determinedly on him.

ACT 1

"Robert E ... you reckon you can git those plans an' costings done for the extensions to the schoolhouse by the next meetin'?" asked Jake, as chairman of the town council meeting.

"Sure I can," responded Robert E immediately.

"Good ... that's somethin' else we can cross off the agenda," replied Jake gratefully. As a number of people stood preparatory to leaving, he said loudly. "Now there's just one more thing ..." There was a communal groan and everyone sat down again. Jake stood and addressed the gathering. "As you all know, last week I attended a meetin' in Denver of the mayors from all the towns around here. There was a lot o' talk about the businesses ... especially mining companies ... movin' into the Territory an' the problems they've bin causin'. I guess you all heard about that cave-in near Rawson last month?" When a large percentage of the gathering nodded, he went on, "An' a couple o' months before that, a lot o' folk from Morrison got sick cos their drinkin' water had somethin' in it ... kinda like what happened here when Dr Mike found out there was ... What was it Dr Mike? In the water?"

"Mercury Jake," she replied immediately.

"Yeah ... mercury ... from that gold mine ...," he reiterated. "So someone suggested we should set up a sort o' Board ... ta make sure these minin' companies are doin' the right thing for the people involved ... the workers an' the people in the towns ... Seems there's a couple o' these Boards workin' already in other places and its made a difference."

"An' who's gonna be on this Board?" asked Loren sceptically. "*You* don' know much about minin' an' business ..."

"I'm gittin' ta that," rejoined Jake. "We decided ta put forward some names an' we'd discuss 'em at our next meetin' ... so I'm askin' for volunteers ..." His eyes roamed around the gathering. "Anyone?" he prompted.

"What would this person have to do Jake?" asked Michaela from beside him.

"He'd have ta meet up with the other Board members whenever a minin' company decided they wanted ta set up around here ... They'd have ta decide whether the business was genuine an' whether they were gonna be safe ... They'd have the authority to tell the company they couldn' set up if they weren't gonna follow the rules ..."

"So it's a very important position?" she affirmed.

"Uh huh ...," he agreed.

"I'd be interested Jake," called Preston Lodge from amongst the gathering.

The mayor frowned. "What do *you* know about minin' Preston?" he asked a touch scornfully.

The banker stood. "Not a lot ... I'll admit," he replied immediately. "But I *do* know about business ... I believe I'd be eminently suitable ..." He plastered on a wide smile and let his eyes roam over those present.

"Until ya saw somethin' in it for yourself," scoffed Hank from the end of the table. The banker's expression hardened.

"Seems ta me we oughta have someone who knows about minin'," mused Loren. "An' someone who aint gonna be in it for the money," he added, glaring at Preston.

"Only folk round here who've had real experience in minin' are Tom Plunkett from out on the Manitou Road but he's got that miners' consumption ... an' Sully," suggested Jake with a frown. "An' we *all* know what he thinks o' new businesses comin' ta town ..."

The banker sat down with disgust, while Michaela's eyes met those of her husband who was standing at the back of the church, his arms folded, a frown on his face. He shook his head at her quizzing look.

"He was the one went with Dr Mike an' found out about the mercury in the water," Loren offered.

The members of the town council directed their gaze to the man at the back of the church. "Whatdya say Sully?" queried Jake, almost certain he knew what the answer would be.

Sully didn't let him down. "Count me out ... I aint interested," he replied immediately. "You're right ... I don' like the minin' companies comin' in, tearin' up the land an' then leavin' it destroyed when they pack up an' go ... I don' want any part in it ..."

"There's a lot at stake Sully," said Michaela quietly.

He glared at her. "You're right ... too much at stake ... none o' you realise ... I said I aint interested ..."

"Well, that reaction was to be expected ... Seems I'm the only one willing to put in the time and effort," jeered Preston.

"Time an' effort aint the problem Preston," rejoined Sully, his tone cold.

There was a buzz of talk in the room which was silenced by Jake as he banged his gavel on the table top. "Alright then ... anyone else interested? ... I mean besides Preston? ..."

There was an expectant silence as everyone searched for a volunteer's hand. When none was forthcoming, Jake sighed in vexation. "Alright then," he said resignedly. "But think about it ... We want Colorado Springs represented on the Board, don' we? We don' want decisions bein' made *for* us, do we?" Again there was silence. "If anyone thinks o' someone ... or wants ta volunteer later ... just let me know." He again banged his gavel on the tabletop. "Meeting adjourned," he stated tiredly.

There was the usual shuffling of feet on the wooden floor and a buzz of conversation as people filed out of the church. Sully waited at the foot of the steps for Michaela who finally appeared beside Jake. The mayor tried one more time. "You really aint interested Sully?" he asked.

Preston, who had emerged only slightly ahead of them snorted. "Don't you realise Jake? If Sully was on that Board there'd never be any new businesses in the Colorado Springs area," he mocked.

Sully frowned and then unexpectedly smirked. "For once I agree with ya Preston," he returned. "That's how I'd like it."

Jake shook his head ruefully and, taking Teresa's hand, headed for the clinic. Sully waited for Michaela to fall into step beside him, and they headed in the same direction to where Sarah was minding Katie and Colin. Preston however, halted their progress by stepping in front of them. "Sully ... wait ... I want a word with you ... I wonder if you know anything about this?" he asked, his tone cutting. He waved a folded piece of paper in the mountain man's face.

Sully frowned. "Seein' as I don' know what it is Preston ..."

Preston quickly unfolded it. "It's a letter ... I received it this morning. ... from a Mr Franklin B Hough of New York State ... It seems Mr Hough is aware of my lumber mill and is pleased that I am doing so much to combat the ill effects of the felling of so many trees ...," he explained, irony in his tone. "He expresses a desire to visit here so he can report back to the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and to Congress ... He believes that such an enterprise in the Colorado wilderness could be put up as an ideal example of industry working alongside forest preservation ..."

Despite a distinct sparkle in his eyes, Sully shrugged. "Don' know what you're talkin' about Preston," he averred calmly, quickly glancing up at the sky as misty rain began to fall.

"You had nothing to do with Mr Hough hearing about my mill?" quizzed Preston, oblivious to the rain.

"I didn' say that ... I wrote to a couple o' people back east ... askin' some questions ... Maybe one of 'em mentioned it ..."

"And what about these conservation measures I'm taking? Did you mention them too?" demanded Preston, his tone becoming steely.

Sully raised his eyebrows. "Weren't aware you cared about the forests ... so why would I? ... How could I?"

Preston bad-temperedly crushed the letter in his hand. "The forests are out there to use as we see fit," he rejoined in a low tone. "And if I can make a profit from them ... all the better."

"So what are ya gonna do about this Mr Hough's visit huh?" asked Sully mildly, taking Michaela's umbrella from her and holding it over them both. "He's travellin' a long way ..."

"I shall wire him not to come," rejoined Preston instantly. "He is not welcome ..."

"So what's he gonna report ... to Congress ... an' that Association you mentioned?"

Preston shrugged. "I couldn't care less what he reports," he sneered. "The mill will be fully operational in just over a week ... I'm negotiating a contract with the railroad to supply timber supports and sleepers over the next two years, and the people of this town are welcoming the employment opportunities ... The opinion of some do-gooder from back east does not matter to me ..."

Again Sully shrugged. "That's your choice Preston ... but I gotta admit ... I'm kinda surprised ..."

The banker frowned. "Why's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"This Hough fella probably knows a lot o' people ... the circles he mixes in ... Just reckon once the name o' your mill got around it'd bring in more business ...," he suggested shrewdly. "But then what do I know huh?"

Preston's eyes narrowed. "You really think I'm going to fall for that Sully?" he sniggered. "I'm not a fool ... I can out-think you any day ... The mill *is* going ahead ... *my* way ... not yours ... or Mr Franklin B Hough's ..." He angrily tossed the crumpled letter at Sully's feet and strode off toward town.

Michaela contemplated Sully, disappointment written on her face. "It didn't work," she said, her tone low. She stooped to pick up the discarded letter.

He gave her a wry smile. "That aint the end of it ...," he rejoined. "Come on ... let's collect the kids an' head home ..." She nodded and they started out across the meadow, sheltered from the continuing light rain by Michaela's umbrella.

Running the last few steps to the clinic porch, both Sully and Michaela were surprised to discover Dorothy and Cloud Dancing waiting for them. The older couple immediately stood, their expressions concerned.

"Is something wrong ... You both look worried?" asked Michaela instantly.

"We need to talk ... inside ...," urged Cloud Dancing.

*******************
Preston, hunched over a shot of whisky in his quarters at the Chateau, cursed his luck for ever having met Byron Sully. Ever since his arrival in Colorado Springs, Sully seemed to have gone out of his way to obstruct his success. He'd never forgive the mountain man for making him look a fool when they'd gone out to capture McBride, though there was some satisfaction in knowing it was *his* bullet that had finally killed the dangerously eccentric loner.

Sully seemed to stay so aloof, almost as if he looked down on anyone trying to make a success of their life, and now, when he, Preston A Lodge III, at last looked like doing just that, the man had stepped in again. Despite Sully's denials, Preston knew he had to have had something to do with the letter from Hough. He hadn't admitted to Sully though, that he actually knew the man, and of his work. Despite his liberal bent, Hough was quite popular in society circles in New York and Boston, even attending a couple of evening gatherings at the Lodge home. Of course, that made the situation more difficult. After all, if he couldn't dissuade him from making the journey west .... Again he clenched his teeth, resentful of Sully and all the problems he caused. He took another swig of his whisky and slammed the now empty shot glass down on the table.

A sudden pounding on his door sent the shot glass skimming across the table and onto the floor. How he hated these late in the day problems that occasionally arose with one of the guests, especially when he begrudgingly resided at the Chateau in the capacity of manager, rather than owner! He stood, straightened his tie, shrugged into his suit jacket and pulled the door open.

As if he'd conjured him up from his reverie, Sully stood on the threshold, his hair dripping wet and his buckskin covered shoulders darkened by the rain. "I'm not interested in talking with you Sully," Preston said determinedly. His eyebrows rose when he spied Cloud Dancing in a similar state, standing behind the mountain man. "Two of you this time!" he exclaimed scathingly. "It must be my lucky day!"

Taking a deep, calming breath, Sully said quietly, "Me an' Cloud Dancin' need ta speak with ya ..."

"I said I'm not interested ... I know you'd both like nothing better than to see me give up on the lumber mill ... but nothing you can say ... or do ... will change my mind ..."

"We know that," replied Sully shortly. "But there's somethin' you should know ..."

"Something about the mill?" asked Preston mildly. When Sully nodded, he began to push the door closed. "I reiterate, nothing you have to say to me holds any interest."

"But somethin's gonna happen out there," expostulated Sully. "Especially if this rain keeps up ..."

"The rain may slow up completion of the mill Sully ... but that is to be expected with such an enterprise ... Now ... Good evening ..." And he quickly pushed the door closed on the two worried visitors.

Sully and Cloud Dancing were left standing in the hallway, at a total loss.

****************
"I just don' understand how you could even think I'd be interested in that job on the minin' board," protested Sully to Michaela, as they sat before the fire in their bedroom. It was late and he was watching her brush her hair in the firelight before going to bed. "You know how I feel about the big minin' companies ...," he added.

"I suppose that's why I *did* entertain the thought," returned Michaela quietly. "You'd have some say in what went on ..."

"But if I had my way there'd be no minin' at all ..."

Michaela shrugged. "We both know that's not going to happen ... This way, you could ensure they did the least damage ..."

He shook his head. "I couldn' be a part of it ... its bad enough havin' ta watch ... Like tryin' ta convince Preston there's gonna be trouble out at the mill when he won't even listen to me ..."

"As far as he's concerned, you're a bystander who wants to interfere ... In the mining job you'd have some authority ..."

"Yeah ... ta give the go ahead to destroy the land ... I just couldn' do it ..."

She swivelled to regard him. "Its your choice ... I just wanted you to realise there could be some benefits too ...," she said sincerely, then went back to brushing her hair.

"I don' see 'em," he responded stubbornly. "I don' wanna talk about it anymore, alright? Takin' that job would go against everythin' I believe in ..."

Michaela placed her brush on the dresser and again turned to face him. "I understand how you feel," she said softly. "We won't talk about it again ... tonight ..."

He shook his head. "Not ever ...," he muttered. "Besides ... we got more important things ta worry about ... Somehow I gotta git Preston ta listen ta me ..."

"Do you want me to go with you tomorrow ... he might ..."

Sully's eyes narrowed. "I'll manage," he said ominously. He thought for a moment and then mused, "I wouldn' worry so much if it was just his business could go bust ... but I don' wanna see anyone git hurt ..."

"You'll find some way to convince him," she assured him. She raised her eyes to the roof. "Of course ... if this light rain was to get any heavier ..."

"Then he'd find out for himself," concluded Sully. "Let's hope it don' come ta that ..." He stood and stretched, before tiredly lifting his shirt over his head. He took a deep breath. "Let's hope it don' come to that," he reiterated softly with grave misgiving.

ACT II

Squinting through the light rain which continued to fall, Bill Morris, the newly appointed foreman of the Lodge Creek Lumber Mill, watched with some disgust as the indian he'd shooed from the mill yard the day before, rode in again, this time accompanied by a half-caste and surprisingly, a white woman. His dark eyes narrowed and his expression hardened. He had no time for indians and what they represented. He suddenly regretted not pulling the trigger when he'd had the chance. Nobody would have blamed him for defending the mill against a crazy red man. He picked up his rifle once again and strode into the middle of the clearing. As soon as the riders stopped close by him, he sneered at the indian, "Thought I told you yesterday ta stay away from here .... You aint welcome ..." The half caste quickly slid from his horse and approached him, prompting him to immediately raise his rifle and add with intent, "Same goes for you." Behind, the indian assisted the white woman from her horse and they too approached him.

Taking a deep breath, Sully held out his hand. "I'm Sully ... this is Cloud Dancin' and Miss Dorothy Jennings, the editor of the Colorado Springs Gazette ... We need ta talk to ya about the mill ... Is Preston around?"

Morris eyed Sully's hand with disdain. "No he aint," he rejoined, maintaining his firm grip on the rifle. "Anyways ... I'm the boss here ... name's Bill Morris ... I'm mill foreman ..." He nodded toward Cloud Dancing. "Told him yesterday I weren't interested in what he had ta say ... Bringin' you two out here aint gonna change my mind ..."

Dorothy stepped forward and held out her hand to him. "I don't think we've met Mr Morris ... I wonder if you'd be interested in doing an interview for the Gazette? ... I like to let my readers know something about new arrivals in town ..."

The foreman regarded her sceptically, but instinctively took her proffered hand and shook it. "These two friends o' yours?" he asked derisively.

"Ah .. yes ... they're both well known in town," she rejoined mildly. "Now about that interview?"

He shook his head. "Aint interested. Aint got time for such things ... got a new mill ta finish ..."

Dorothy smiled. "I take it you're very experienced in the lumber business?" she asked quietly.

The man's chest puffed out. "Bin workin' in it all my life," he responded.

"In the Colorado Territory?"

"Uh huh ... bin up at the Bailey Mill north o' Denver for the last twelve years ..."

"So you'd be well aware of some of the problems ta do with water run-off in this area?" she asked with apparent surety.

He frowned. "Ah ... sure I am," he returned. "What're ya gittin' at?"

She turned to gaze at the pile of logs to the side of the mill clearing. The slight slope had been levelled out so that at one end the log pile was secured by a low, man-made bank and at the end closest to the stream by thick, shaped wedges set into the ground. "Maybe Cloud Dancin' or Sully could explain it better than me," she suggested.

His expression hardened. "Told him yesterday ..."

She interjected, "Cloud Dancing told me he's worried about what might happen out here ... If this rain gets heavier ..." She trailed off and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

The man swallowed and seeing his chance, Cloud Dancing said quietly, "Those logs are laying over a wash ..." When Morris remained silent, he went on, "When you began there were no trees or bushes over there ... were there?"

"One o' the reasons they picked this spot," replied the foreman with a frown. "Wasn' as much clearin' needin' ta be done here."

Cloud Dancing explained, "The clearing ... as you call it ... was caused by water. If the rain becomes heavier ... and continues over two or three days ... water will run down this slope here towards the stream ..."

"And you think its gonna move a load that heavy?" scoffed the foreman. "You're crazy ..."

"It will not be the water that will move the logs ..," adjured Cloud Dancing.

Again the man frowned. "What'll it be then? Them indian spirits?" he sneered.

Cloud Dancing shook his head and quickly grasped Sully's arm as he looked to angrily interject. He explained patiently, "The earth under those logs is soft ... It never has a chance to settle because several times each year the water washes over and through it as it makes for the stream ... The edges are unstable ... When the heavy rains come, water will dam up behind the logs and spread out even further ... Then the ground will soften even more ... The ground will move the logs, not the water ...."

"An' anyone in its path'll git hurt," added Dorothy, just as quietly and patiently. She peered up into the sky. "Looks ta me like this rain's set in ... who knows how long it'll last ... or how heavy it'll git ..."

Morris regarded them all questioningly. "How do I know this aint just a way o' slowin' us down?" he asked cynically.

"You don't," responded Sully immediately. "An' if ya ask Preston ... he'll probably tell ya that's what we're up to ... but we aint ... If ya don' move those logs onto solid ground ... an' soon ... they're gonna give way ..."

Morris at last lowered his rifle so that the barrel now pointed to the ground. "I'll have ta talk to Lodge," he said broodingly. "He aint gonna like it ... It'd take a while ... an' take some o' the men away from loggin' further in ..."

"Ya gotta convince him it'll save lives," said Sully earnestly.

The man shook his head. "I wish I could believe you ..."

"Do I look like a dishonest person Mr Morris?" asked Dorothy instantly. "I believe Sully and Cloud Dancing ... How do you think it'll look if somethin' does happen out here ... an' you knew it might, but did nothin' about it?"

The foreman's eyes narrowed. "I don' take kindly ta threats ma'am," he responded.

"Oh it wasn't a threat Mr Morris," said Dorothy at her most polite. "Just a warning ..."

"Like I said ... I'll have ta talk ta Mr Lodge," rejoined Morris defensively. "*He* can make the decision ..."

"An' if he says no?" asked Sully.

"He's the boss ... won't be my problem," the foreman answered, feeling better by the minute. "Now its time you all got outta here so's I can git back ta work ..."

****************
"Ah Michaela ... could I have a word with you please?" demanded Preston, as the doctor emerged from her clinic at the end of the day. He stepped up onto the clinic porch, taking off his hat, and giving it a shake to remove the raindrops clinging to it.

She slowly turned to face him, knowing full well what he would want to discuss. "Are you ill Preston?" she asked benignly.

"No ... I'm not ill," he rejoined, short-temperedly. "However I do wish to speak with you about one of my mill workers ..." She raised her eyebrows expectantly, so he continued, "I believe you treated Russell Sydes this afternoon?" She nodded and he frowned, before stating angrily, "*After* Dr Fulton had turned him away."

"He was *not* turned away," she rejoined in her most professional manner. "He was referred on to me ...," she explained.

"And why couldn't he be treated out at the Chateau as I requested?"

Michaela sighed. "Some weeks back I instructed John to refer any injured or ill patients from the mill to me here in town," she replied calmly.

His expression hardened. "And why was that?" he asked coldly.

She regarded him keenly and then decided to be frank. "The truth is Preston, that if Andrew had still been at the Chateau you would have expected him to provide a free medical service to the mill employees ... I was determined that would not happen with Dr Fulton ..."

He reddened with indignation. "You assume a lot Michaela," he rejoined, fury on his tone.

She raised one eyebrow. "Am I wrong?" she asked coolly. "John has not been employed to assist you in making a profit at the mill ... If there are employees requiring medical service I am more than happy to provide that service ... at the normal cost ..." She paused and then added mischievously, "Which reminds me that Mr Morris said you would pay for Mr Sydes treatment?"

Preston took a deep exasperated breath. "You're becoming as obstructive as your husband Michaela," he muttered, delving into his pocket for some coins. He dropped a couple into her open palm. "I trust that will suffice?"

She nodded and then said quietly, "Not obstructive Preston ... but perhaps ... as wise."

He eyed her coldly, no hint of his usual condescending smile. "Good-day Michaela," he said perfunctorily, and turned on his heel and strode away from the clinic.

****************
"Are you sure its safe?" asked Michaela worriedly, as she watched Sully sit an excited little Katie on the new rope and board swing attached to a branch of the old oak tree. After a day of light but persistent rain, the late afternoon skies had finally lightened a little and the family was taking full advantage of the opportunity to be outdoors.

He turned and gave her a wry look. "Ya saw me test it myself," he rejoined.

She swallowed. "I know ... but she's so little ..."

"I aint gonna let anythin' happen to her Michaela ... You know that ...," he assured her, moving to stand behind the little girl.

"Push papa," implored Katie. "Pease ..." Having seen her father on the swing only moments ago, she knew exactly what should happen, but just couldn't seem to get started.

Sully chuckled. "Gotta be patient Kates," he exhorted indulgently, giving the wooden seat a gentle push so the swinging motion began.

"Agin papa," she squealed elatedly.

"Gotta hold on tight ...," he warned.

She nodded and gripped the ropes more tightly. Again he pushed so the swinging movement became a little more pronounced. She giggled and kicked her legs out, calling, "Up ... more ... up ..."

"Not too high Sully," begged Michaela, torn between delighting in her daughter's happiness and worrying about her safety.

"You come on over an' stand in front," offered Sully with a smile. "Then ya can catch her if she lets go ...," he added playfully.

At that terrifying thought, Michaela hastily moved across to face the little girl as she delightedly swung back an' forth, now between her doting parents. After a while Michaela relaxed as Katie clung to the ropes, all the while giggling and calling out. "Look mama ... I's flyin'!" she'd exclaim. "Up papa, agin papa," she urged more than once. Her cheeks became rosy from the excitement and her fine blonde curls tossed carelessly in the cool breeze. Both Michaela and Sully joined in the fun and laughter, gently pushing their jubilant daughter on her new toy.

Brian, returning home from school via the Gazette office, stood and watched the scene for a moment before he was noticed. He smiled broadly at his little sister's laughter and his parents' obvious enjoyment. Michaela saw him first, waved and beckoned him over. He dropped his satchel on the porch step and headed across to the tree.

"Look Brian ... I's flyin'!" called Katie as he approached.

He chuckled and rejoined, "Ya sure are Kates ..." He turned to Sully. "Can I push pa?" he asked. "While you read this maybe?" he added, handing Sully a telegram. "Mr Bing asked me ta give it to ya."

Sully nodded and stepped back. "Not too high Brian ... an' makes sure she's hangin' on tight," he instructed, taking the paper from him. The young man nodded and moved behind the swing.

Sully hurriedly unfolded the telegram and began to read. From her position in front of Katie, Michaela watched him anxiously. She breathed a sigh of relief as a satisfied smile slowly appeared on his face and then he deliberately folded the paper and tucked it securely into his pant's pocket.

The fun at the swing continued for a while longer. Brian even sat on it himself with Katie on his knee, while Sully and Michaela pushed. At last, Michaela glanced up at the house and asked, "Brian ... supper must almost be ready ... would you take Katie inside and wash up? Sully and I will be with you in a minute ..."

Brian slid from the board seat, Katie in his arms. "Sure ma," he replied, stepping towards the house.

The toddler wriggled in his arms. "More," she whined. "More swing ... papa ... mama," she implored.

Brian jiggled her in his arms playfully. "We can play some more tomorra," he promised. "But I'm hungry ... aint you hungry too Kates?"

She stopped wriggling and regarded him seriously, as if weighing up the matter. She looked back at her parents and then to Brian. At last she nodded, wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck and allowed him to carry her up to the house.

Michaela and Sully watched on, a distinct sparkle of both amusement and love in their eyes. "She's kind o' strong willed aint she?" remarked Sully ruefully.

Michaela walked across to stand by him and hooked her arm through his. "Mmmm ...," she replied with a smile. "Like her pa."

His eyes met hers. "Reckon she takes as much after her ma," he said with a loving smile. "But Brian's a match for her ... at least for now ..."

She stood up on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. "You seemed pleased with yourself a while back," she hinted quietly.

"Katie was havin' a good time," he replied, choosing to ignore her gentle prompting.

She gave him a mock frown. "It wasn't just that," she suggested, very slowly running her hand down his side to his hip to where she could feel the folded paper in his pocket. "Whatever was in the telegram ..." She trailed off, stepping very close. "Made you *very* pleased with yourself ...," she finished, her hand creeping inside the waistband of his buckskins.

He bent a little and whispered against her ear. "Michaela Quinn ... are you flirtin' with me?"

"Who me?" she asked guilelessly, the sparkle in her eyes belying her tone.

"Aint no-one else here..." he rejoined with a chuckle. Another frown made him finally give in and withdraw the telegram from his pocket. "Franklin Hough's arrivin' here day after tomorra ... an' he's bringin' a friend o' Welland Smith's, name o' George Grinnell ... seems he works in publishin' an' is real interested in encouragin' people to look after the land ...," he paraphrased, with a satisfied smile.

Michaela bit her lip. "Poor Preston," she said with a giggle. "Not only Mr Hough ... but now someone who writes about preserving something he's about to destroy ..."

"He's got it comin' I reckon," rejoined Sully, never amused when Preston was the topic of the conversation.

"Well all I can say is that I hope Messieurs Hough and Grinnell are *very* persuasive," she said quietly. She glanced up at the house. "I suppose we better go in ... Brian and Katie will be wondering where we've gotten to ..."

He nodded and then looked back at the swing. "I was kinda hopin' you'd try that out," he suggested, his eyes sparkling.

"The swing!?" she exclaimed. "Me!?"

"Uh huh ... you're the only one who's missed out ..."

She shook her head. "I'm too old for playing on swings ..."

"Never too old Michaela," responded Sully immediately. "Bet you never played on 'em much when you were Katie's age neither."

She frowned. "Don't remember," she replied. "Perhaps on Boston Common ..."

Sully looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. "Well ... next time the sun's out ... you're gonna try out the swing on Sully Common ... alright?" he urged with a grin. "But by the look o' those clouds ... it won't be any time soon ..." He clasped her hand and they began to walk slowly towards the house. "Sure hope Morris's started movin' them logs ... If the rain's heavy ..."

"And lasts for a while," added Michaela.

"That ground'll give way," he finished. "An' look out anyone or anythin' in its way ..."

******************
In response to a light knock, Dorothy pulled the door of the Gazette office open to discover Cloud Dancing on her doorstep. She smiled widely and impulsively reached out to grasp his hand and draw him inside. "I wasn' expectin' ta see you agin today," she said softly, closing the door and then reciprocating his quick embrace.

He stepped back from her and his expression became serious. "I thought you should know ... I rode by the mill, to see how the work was progressing, with moving the log pile ... Nothing has been done," he informed her.

"Nothing?!" she exclaimed. "But Mr Morris said they'd start straight away ..."

"He said he would talk to Preston Lodge ..."

"You think *he* put a stop to it?" asked Dorothy dubiously. "Surely he aint that stupid ..."

Cloud Dancing's eyebrows rose cynically. "You know how he feels about Sully and I?" he said quietly.

"But to put the lives of his workers in danger!"

"He will not see it that way ... until it is too late ...." The medicine man's shoulders suddenly slumped. "There will be rain tonight," he said with foreboding.

"I noticed those dark clouds," Dorothy agreed. "We're gonna have ta try again first thing tomorrow ... to persuade 'em ta move those logs ..."

He nodded. "Somehow we have to make them understand," he avowed.

Both suddenly started as loud thunder rumbled overhead.

"At least there's no-one out there now ... Everyone will've finished work by this time," Dorothy reassured him. She took his hand in her own. "Will ya stay ta supper here with me?" she asked, as rain began to patter on the tin roof overhead. "Ya can't go home in this anyways ..."

He smiled. "I may have to ... later," he remarked ruefully.

"Yeah ... but not yet," she returned, leading him to a seat at the back of the office.

******************
A full whisky glass in his hand, Bill Morris stepped out onto the porch of the Gold Nugget saloon and regarded the heavy, dark clouds gathering overhead. Despite a long talk with Preston Lodge, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. What if the indian and half-caste were right and the boss was wrong? He shook himself. It weren't his responsibility. Lodge had said 'no' and that was the end of it. Of course, in the back of his mind lingered the fact that Lodge knew nothing about the land - that was obvious - but he sure had a deep-seated kind of hate for the indian and the man called Sully - that too was obvious. They'd discussed the indian's warning about the water run-off for a long time, but after listening to Lodge's arguments as to why the indian and half-caste wanted the mill to fail, he'd been more than willing to believe they were lying. Besides, it saved himself and the other men a whole lot of work they didn't need.

He tilted back his head and let the warming whisky slide down his throat. He hadn't been in town much since coming south to manage the new mill. The deadline set by the boss was tight and he and the others had been working long hours. But the rain today had meant a slowing down out at the mill and when it still hadn't eased by three, he'd sent everyone home and headed into town. He hadn't made up his mind about this place yet. It was sure a lot smaller than Denver and apart from Lodge and a couple of the fellas he worked with, he didn't know anyone. Still that suited him. Making a fresh start somewhere new was just what he'd been looking for.

He glanced about, trying to decide whether to order another drink. He wasn't really a drinking man. A couple of whiskies now and then didn't hurt though, and the barkeep, Hank, had made it obvious he was welcome to some of the other 'entertainment' the saloon had to offer. He smiled at the thought and made to step back inside.