Blood Ties Chapter 1, a dr. quinn medicine woman fanfic

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Blood Ties
BeckyH
Bs.AAA full 3/4 1/2 EE Light Dark
Chapter
1.1.Chapter
1 1
Author of 7 Stories
Next >
Rated: K+ - English - Romance/Drama - Reviews: 13 - Updated: 11-05-07 - Published: 08-18-07 Complete - id:3731485
Chapter One
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Michaela awoke in the early morning rays of light to her baby's soft grunts. Eliza was snuggled up
warmly against her mother's belly, where she had spent every night since her birth a week before.
In fact, Michaela only put her in her crib or cradle when she absolutely had to, preferring to have
the baby close to her as much as possible. The baby opened her eyes and looked around, smacking
her lips.
"Are you hungry?" Michaela whispered lovingly. "Ready for another feeding?" She reached up and
unbuttoned her nightgown, exposing her swollen breast. Eliza immediately turned her head toward
it, rooting eagerly. Michaela held the breast to the baby's lips and she latched on firmly. Nursing a
baby wasn't always an easy thing, but since the beginning Eliza had been as proficient at the whole
process as if she had done it for years. She suckled perfectly, getting her fill each time, and
Michaela hadn't experienced any pain or tenderness. If anything it was faintly pleasurable to feel
her milk come down when the baby suckled, and to have her relieve her full breasts.
Sully gradually woke up and touched his fingers to the baby's back, gently stroking her pink skin.
She wore nothing but a thick cloth diaper, the heat from her parents plenty to keep her warm
throughout the night.
"Morning," Michaela whispered, gazing at him lovingly.
He shifted a little closer and pressed his lips to hers, then edged down a bit to kiss the baby's head
a few times as she continued to suckle away eagerly at Michaela's breast.
"She only cried a couple times last night," he remarked hoarsely.
Michaela glanced up at him. "Yes, I think she's settling into a good routine."
"Ya get some sleep?" he asked, smoothing her hair from her brow.
"Yes, some."
The baby made a fist and dug it into the breast, as if trying to get even more milk into her.
"I wonder if she's gaining weight," Michaela remarked. "She's certainly eating well."
http://web.archive.org/web/20120430092657/http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3731485/1/Blood_Ties[11/19/2013 9:12:03 PM]
"I expect she is. Her arms and legs don't look so thin anymore." He grasped the baby's foot and
pressed his thumb to it in fascination. He had never seen a tinier foot. "Look at those toes. Look
how little," he murmured.
"Chubby cheeks," Michaela remarked, bowing her head and kissing the baby's brow.
"Yeah," he said with a soft chuckle.
She watched the baby nurse a moment longer and then met Sully's eyes. "Sully? I'm really missing
the clinic. I think I'd like to go back today."
"Sure you're up to that already?"
"Yes, I feel well. And the baby's thriving. I'll start off slow. Perhaps only go in for the morning."
"Sure, if that's what ya want," he replied. "I'll stay home with her, bring her out when it's time to
nurse."
She hesitated. "Oh. Well, I was thinking I could take her with me. We could set up the bassinette in
the front room."
"I don't mind watchin' her, Michaela. Gonna be hard to get much done with a baby in the room."
"I've managed it before." She gazed down at her. "I just want her with me, that's all."
He slowly shifted up in bed. "Yeah, sure. We'll get the bassinette out."
"Good. Thank you." She smoothed the baby's brow as she released her hold on the breast and
gazed up into her mother's eyes. "Was that good? You have a full tummy now?" Michaela crooned.
"Yes. Good girl."
"Here, I'll burp her, give her a diaper change," Sully offered. "You get dressed."
She shifted up and allowed Sully to lift Eliza from the mattress and lay her over his broad shoulder.
She grabbed a burping cloth off the pile on the nightstand and tucked it under the baby, then got of
bed and made her way across the room. Sully began patting the baby's back firmly as Michaela
washed her face and went about her morning routine.
"Bet it'll feel good to get back to the clinic after all those weeks on bed rest," he remarked.
"Oh, I can't wait," she breathed, walking to their wardrobe and taking out a rose-colored maternity
gown with a drawstring waist. She had already shed the majority of the weight she had gained
during the pregnancy, most of it coming off during the first few days after the birth when she
couldn't stomach a thing, but there was still a small swelling at her belly that made her regular
clothes too snug to wear just yet. She laid the gown across the bed and then took out petticoats, a
chemise and stockings. Then she slipped her nightgown over her head and put it aside.
Sully watched her undress for a moment, giving her a small smile of appreciation when she met his
eyes, then he gazed down at the baby and gave her head a gentle kiss. The baby grunted and let
out a tiny burp as she worked up the air in her stomach. She stared right up at Sully as if thinking
very deeply about something.
"There's somethin' about her eyes. She reminds me a little of…" Sully whispered.
Michaela tied the waist of her pantaloons and then slipped on her chemise. "Of who?"
He swallowed hard. "Nobody."
The baby suddenly coughed and made a little sputtering sound.
"Oh, I got ya. Your pa's got ya," Sully said, rubbing her back soothingly. Michaela quickly walked
back to the bed, eyeing the baby worriedly.
"What's wrong?" she demanded.
"Nothin's wrong," Sully said. "She just coughed is all."
"Oh, Sully, she's spat up a little!" Michaela said, grabbing the corner of the cloth and wiping the
baby's chin.
"She always spits up a little. Just calm down," he said evenly.
She sat down, resting her hands in her lap in defeat. "I'm sorry. I know she's fine. I need to try to
relax."
He patted her arm reassuringly. "It's all right. Havin' a new baby ain't exactly relaxin'."
"I just love her so much, and she's so helpless," she said, eyes welling with tears. "I never thought
I'd be able to have another baby. I just need to protect her from everything."
"She's nursin' good, sleepin' good, too. She's gettin' stronger every day. If ya ask me we couldn't
ask for anything better."
She smiled, reassured, and drew him into a hug, the baby tucked between them cozily.
Sully gave Michaela a hand down from the wagon and then passed her back the baby. He was
holding her medical bag, the sling for the baby and another large leather satchel in which she had
packed plenty of diaper cloths, powder, salve and other infant essentials. It seemed like now that
the baby was born whenever they went anywhere Sully always found himself dragging along
everything Michaela insisted the baby needed, but he was happy to do it. The children piled out of
the back with their schoolbooks and lunch tins.
"You have everything?" Michaela asked.
Byron scrambled over to her and grasped the baby's hand, kissing it several times. "Bye-bye, Eliza. I
gotta go to school now. Bye-bye. Bye."
Katie and Red Eagle joined him. Katie kissed Eliza's hair and Red Eagle rubbed her belly.
"Have fun at the clinic," Katie said. "You can help Mama with her patients." She kissed her baby
sister's cheek.
"Three of ya are gonna smother her with all those kisses," Sully said with a chuckle.
"She's just so soft," Katie said. "I like kissing her."
"Yeah, and she smells good," Byron added. "I don't know why!"
"Babies always smell good," Michaela replied, caressing his head. "Off to school with you before
you're late. Have a good day."
"Bye, Ma. Bye, Pa," Byron replied as the three of them scurried off toward the schoolhouse.
Michaela smiled at Sully as he unlocked the door. "They adore her."
"Just a little," he replied wryly, opening the door and guiding her inside. He helped her off with her
jacket and then she headed straight for the infant scale Andrew had put out for her on the
examination table.
"It's a special day, Eliza. We're going to find out for the first time how much you weigh," Michaela
said, kissing her forehead and lowering her into the weighing tray. The baby fussed and tossed her
head, suddenly letting out an angry cry, her face reddening.
"Oh. Hang on. Hang on," Sully said. He wanted to rub her belly reassuringly, but he didn't want to
interfere with getting an accurate measurement of her weight.
Michaela looked at the scale and smiled. "Oh, my goodness. Six pounds, two….no, three ounces."
"That's good, huh?" Sully said.
"That's very good," she said, reaching down and lifting Eliza's into her arms. "Oh, shh. Shh. That
wasn't so bad, was it? Shh, Mama's here."
Sully held out the leather sling Michaela liked to carry the baby in. "Here, why don't ya put her in
here while I bring down the bassinet from upstairs? Ya can free up your hands and get some work
done."
She nodded and turned toward him as he slipped it over her shoulders and helped her settle the
baby inside. The baby liked being tucked against Michaela's belly, her mother's scent and the
contours of her body familiar to her. She quieted and suckled on her fingers, peeking out curiously.
Sully smiled and reached in, tickling her cheek. "Hey, beautiful girl. Your pa's gonna go get your
crib, all right?" He headed upstairs and Michaela walked to her desk and pulled out her chair.
It felt so good to finally sit at her desk again. She had never been away from her clinic for so long
before. Bed rest had certainly been well worth it, the result their beautiful and perfect little girl. But
it hadn't been easy to be out of work, both emotionally and financially. Though she had a feeling it
might take some time to get her sea legs back, she was certainly ready to begin the process.
"Let's see what Dr. Cook's been up to while Mama's been gone," Michaela remarked, flipping
through the pile of medical charts Andrew had stacked neatly on her desk.
Just as she was opening one of the files to look through it someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she called.
Horace opened the door with a smile, carrying some telegrams. "Heard you were in town. Welcome
back, Dr. Mike."
"Thank you, Horace," she replied.
He stepped toward her desk and handed her the papers. "Couple telegrams came in for you."
"Oh. Thank you." She quickly skimmed them. More kind words of congratulations from family and
friends, this time from her Uncle Teddy, as well as her closest friend from medical school Miriam
Tilson in San Francisco. The outpouring of well wishes since the baby's birth had been both
overwhelming and heartwarming. She could truly feel how happy everyone was for them.
Horace gazed at the baby in the sling. "How's little Eliza doin' this morning?"
Michaela glanced down proudly. "Oh, just fine. I think she likes her mama's clinic."
"Sully around, Dr. Mike?" he asked. "Something I wanna ask him."
"I'm right here," Sully called as he walked down the last few steps with the bassinet, carrying it into
the room.
"Mornin', Sully. I was wonderin' if you're still looking for work around town."
He glanced at Eliza. If he had things his way he would stay home for a few weeks and help
Michaela take care of and adjust to the new baby. But if an opportunity for some good work nearby
came up he felt obligated to at least consider it. "Yeah, I still am."
"Good. I sure could use a few men like you. The railroad wants to expand the Colorado Springs
station. Put in a larger waiting room and a mail room out back. They're gonna send me some plans,
a grant to hire some construction workers to get the job done. And I'd really like it if you'd be
foreman. Railroad'll pay you twenty-five dollars for the job."
Sully nodded and Michaela looked at him expectantly.
"Thanks, Horace. Can I let ya know?" he replied.
"Sure thing."
"Where ya want this?" he asked, glancing at Michaela and nodding at the bassinet.
"Over near the stove where she'll be nice and warm," she instructed.
Horace walked to the door, then spun around. "Oh, I almost forgot. Thought you'd like to know.
Samantha's comin' out for a visit next week."
"Oh, what good news, Horace," Michaela replied with a grin. "I bet you're looking forward to that."
"I sure am. Myra's gonna bring her out, stay on with her."
Michaela beamed all the more. "Myra's visiting, too? Why, we haven't seen her in ages!"
"When they come out?" Sully asked, walking to Michaela's desk and resting his hand on her
shoulder.
"The tenth," he said, putting his hat back on. "I'll see you around town."
"Good day, Horace," Michaela replied as he walked out. She shifted toward Sully. "Isn't that
wonderful? Oh, I can't wait to catch up with her."
"Bet she feels the same," he replied, leaning down and giving her a kiss.
Sully galloped out toward the south end of the homestead property where he spotted Brian working
diligently at sawing some lumber. The foundation of his house was nearly complete, he had a good
beginning on the stone fireplace and he would soon be ready to raise the walls. Everything was on
course to be finished in time for his wedding in June.
"Hey, Pa," Brian called. "What're you doin' out here?"
"Your ma's back at work, baby's with her, kids are in school. Thought I'd ride out here and see if I
could lend a hand."
"Sure. I could use ya. Thanks."
Sully put on his work gloves and then grabbed the other end of the crosscut saw.
"Sorry I ain't been around very much," Brian said. "There's just so much to do."
"It's all right. Ya got a weddin' to get ready for."
They swiftly cut through the board and then Brian tossed it aside.
"Were you this busy before ya married Ma? I never realized how much there was to get done."
Sully nodded. "Sure I was. And a lot of times I was afraid I wasn't gonna finish everything. But it'll
all fall into place, you'll see. All your hard work's gonna be well worth it."
"That's the only part I'm sure of. She's worth it," Brian said with a wry smile, placing another board
across the sawhorse.
Sully chuckled and picked up the saw again as they got back to work.
Samantha Bing skipped down Hickory Street in the prosperous Lafayette Square neighborhood of St.
Louis, her wavy dark brown hair flying behind her and her schoolbooks tucked under her arm. She
opened the freshly painted white gate and raced up the walk of her aunt's Victorian house where
she and her mother had been living for most of her life.
"Bye, Samantha!" her group of girlfriends called as they continued on their way.
"Bye!" she called back. She slowed her pace as she spotted the painter her mother and aunt had
hired a few weeks back. He was high atop a ladder, putting the finishing touches on the awning of
their porch. "Afternoon, William!" she called cheerfully.
The old man waved at her, dabbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Why, good afternoon to
you, Sammy."
She giggled, covering her mouth. She could never get enough of the old man's rich accent. He
sounded so dignified and formal, yet was dressed like a peasant in tattered, old clothes. And she
loved how he called her Sammy. She ran up the porch and inside, slamming the screen door.
"Samantha? Wipe your boots, sweetheart," Myra called from the kitchen.
"Sorry, Mama," she replied, retreating back to the doormat and sliding her muddy boots on it.
"You're as forgetful as ever," Myra said, appearing in the doorway and holding out her arms with a
bright smile.
Samantha beamed and ran to her, giving her a big hug. "Can we get packed? Can we get packed?"
"Be patient! I'm fixing us a little supper and then we'll pack. In the meantime, go into the parlor and
start on all that homework your teachers gave you for the trip."
"But I have a whole three weeks to finish it," she protested.
"You're not going to get very much homework done in Colorado Springs if I know you, young lady!"
she said with a chuckle.
"Yes, Mama," she replied, retreating to the parlor with her schoolbooks.
William knocked on the screen door, wiping his face with a cloth. "Miss Myra?" he called softly.
Myra approached him and opened the door. "Would you like to come inside and have some
lemonade with us in the parlor, William?"
"Oh, no, no. I'm all covered in paint. I wanted to let you know I've finished. That paint should hold
up quite well for at least several years. I hope you'll be pleased." He opened the screen door and
stood on the doormat.
"I'm real pleased. Thank you, William. Let me just get you your money."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She walked to the desk near the front door and opened a drawer, taking out a billfold.
Meanwhile Samantha peeked over the top of her schoolbook from the chair in the parlor and crossed
her eyes at William. He chuckled at her and shook his head.
"Sam? Homework," Myra said sternly as she walked back to William.
Samantha raised the book again and heaved a sigh.
"We were so lucky to find you, William," Myra remarked. "My sister and I have had bad luck with
the handymen we've hired lately."
"Well, I was lucky to find you, too. I can't tell you how much I needed this job."
She smiled at him kindly and counted out several bills.
"You wouldn't happen to know of any other work that needs to be done around here, do you?" he
asked.
She glanced up, sighing. "No, I don't. But I'll let you know if I hear anything."
"Yes. Thank you."
She handed him the bills. "That's fifteen dollars, the price we agreed on. And three dollars more for
getting the job done so quick."
He clutched the money gratefully. "Thank you, Miss Myra. Thank you very much." He shook her
hand. "Any time you need anything else, you come to me."
"I promise," she replied, clasping his hand and then opening the screen door for him. She clutched
the doorframe and watched him walk down the porch, then suddenly her face lit up with an idea.
"William, wait!" she called.
He turned back around curiously.
"You wouldn't be interested in a job far from home, would you?" she asked.
"Well, that depends. How far?"
"Samantha's father in Colorado Springs is going to be expanding his telegraph office. He needs men
like you, hard workers to get the job done fast. In fact Sam and I are just about to go out there for
a visit. You could come with us."
"Colorado Springs," he repeated. "Never been there."
"It's pretty far," she replied. "But Horace is a good man to work for, he'll pay you a fair wage." She
bit her lip. "In fact, I'll even buy your train ticket."
"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that," he protested.
"The least I can do, after you did such a fine job on our house."
"Oh, please, William!" Samantha said, scurrying over to them holding her pencil and grabbing Myra's
hand. "Please come with us to Colorado Springs." She smiled up at him sweetly.
"Well, how can I say no to those big brown eyes," he replied, reaching his finger out and tapping
her freckled nose. "All right, Sammy. I'll come along with you."
"Excellent, Katie. All correct," Elizabeth said as she handed the little girl back her homework paper.
Red Eagle was just finishing up his last problem. Byron, however, was still stuck on his first row of
problems, and Michaela was sitting beside him trying to help him.
Katie smiled and tucked her homework into her arithmetic primer, then scurried over to Sully who
was cuddling with Eliza in a wingback chair.
"Now can I hold the baby?" she pleaded.
"Your homework done?" Sully asked.
"Yep. All done."
"Mine's done, too," Red Eagle said, quickly following Katie over. "I get to hold her next."
Sully stood and helped Katie into the chair, then laid Eliza in her arms. "There ya go. There's your
big sister, Eliza."
Katie kissed her head lovingly. "Hey, Eliza. Hey."
Sully smoothed Katie's hair. "Good job, Kates. You're holdin' her real good."
"I wanna hold the baby," Byron spoke up, putting his pencil down impatiently.
"You can hold her when you finish," Michaela said, tapping his paper with her finger. "If you have
four apples and you eat one, what fraction did you just eat?"
He heaved a sigh. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Well, what's the denominator?" she asked patiently. "Four apples and you ate one."
He pressed his pencil to his chin. "I don't know. Three?"
Michaela glanced at Elizabeth and tried her best to be patient. "No, four."
"So, two-fourths?" he replied absently.
"Now you're just guessing. Sweetheart, you have to focus."
"I wanna hold the baby," he replied. "I never get to."
"You hold her all the time. Now I want you to concentrate on your assignment and finish it. It's
almost time for bed."
"I hate fractions. I don't get 'em," he said, throwing down his pencil.
Michaela put her arm around him. "They're not so difficult. You're making this harder than it is."
"Maybe they're easy for you," he muttered.
"Well, you just have to try," she said helplessly.
"I am trying!" he said tearfully. "Mama, I'm trying real hard."
Michaela gently rubbed his back. Byron was right, he had been working very diligently on his
homework for most of the evening. But it seemed for all his hard work they had barely made any
progress. And now it was almost bedtime. He was going to be up at least another hour at this rate if
he was going to finish his assignment.
Michaela gave his head a gentle kiss. "I'll write your teacher a note. I'll let her know you did as
much of the assignment as you could."
"Thanks, Mama," he whispered, hugging her waist.
"All right. It's bedtime now for all of us," she said, giving Byron's head another kiss.
"Sully? Sully, can you take the baby?" Michaela whispered in the darkness. He opened his eyes
sleepily and she cuddled Eliza securely against his chest. He rubbed the baby's tiny back as he
watched Michaela head over to the vanity and take out a fresh nightgown from the middle drawer.
"Everything all right?" he whispered.
"I need to change. I need to change my nightgown," she murmured.
He propped himself up on one elbow, a little alarmed. There was a rather dark stain marking her
gown on the back, just below her hips. "That blood?"
She nodded and slipped the gown over her head. "It just…it happened so suddenly when I got up
after nursing her," she explained a little sheepishly, glancing down. "Oh. I think I passed some blood
clots."
"That normal?"
"Yes, it's all right. It's normal to see an increase in flow once you're up and around. I noticed it
became a little heavier when I went back to work."
He watched her fold some fresh rags and place them between her legs to soak up any more blood.
She always bled for a good several weeks after having a baby. It had frightened him after Katie was
born. He had never heard of anything like that before, not that he knew very much about the whole
process of having a baby in the first place, but she had assured him repeatedly it was just a part of
everything and that all women went through it after giving birth. Now he understood it was normal,
but it still concerned him from time to time.
Finally she finished changing and cleaning herself up and rejoined him at the bed.
"That's better," she murmured, getting back under the covers and crouching down to kiss Eliza. "I
love you," she whispered. "Sleep, my baby girl."
"Work makin' ya tired?" he asked, rubbing her arm.
She glanced up. "Some."
"Maybe ya should stay home tomorrow and relax. Put your feet up."
"That's impossible. I'm booked all day."
"What about the bleedin'?"
"It'll go away," she said dismissively. "It's only been eight days. That's not at all unusual."
He caressed her cheek. "Michaela, I'm just worried about ya. Losin' all this blood's gotta be takin' its
toll. Ya lost so much when she was born, too."
"If it gets any worse I'll stop working for a few days," she said reassuringly. "But I'm sure it's
nothing."
"Guess your patients missed ya," he remarked. "Happy to have ya back."
She smiled at him and cuddled up close. "As am I."
He perked up as he heard a door open downstairs, and someone trudge slowly up the staircase. It
had to be Brian. He had come home earlier for about ten minutes to eat a quick supper and then
rode right back out to his new homestead again, telling everyone he would be working very late.
Michaela followed Sully's gaze. "What time is it? It must be almost eleven."
He squinted at the clock on the mantle. "Try midnight."
"Poor thing. He's working so hard."
"Yeah, he sure is. We had a good talk earlier."
"Oh, about what?"
"I don't know. Just about his homestead, gettin' married."
"Sully, are you going to, um…are you going to have the talk with him at some point before the
wedding?"
"The talk? What talk?"
"You know. The marriage talk."
He chuckled. "Michaela, you want him to have that kinda talk be my guest."
"Sully, he doesn't want to hear it from me. You're his father, he's your son. I think it falls on your
shoulders. My mother talked to me before I married you."
"I ain't real fond of that talk your ma gave ya."
"Still, at least she was trying to help. At least I felt like she cared." She caressed his chest lovingly
and kissed his shoulder. "Besides, you could give him a good talk. Improve a bit on what Mother
told me."
"Guess it does fall on me, don't it," he murmured, tucking one hand beneath his head.
"I'll talk to our daughters when the time comes. But you're talking to our sons," she said.
"Is that how it works? Figures we got more boys than girls."
She giggled and cuddled up against him, closing her eyes. "Hm, funny how that worked out.
Goodnight."
"Night," he replied with a smile, gathering her into his arms.
Michaela walked into the store behind the children, her basket and a list in hand and the baby
dozing in the sling around her shoulders.
"Good afternoon, Loren. I need some coffee, some red beans and the children need some new
school tablets," she said, approaching the counter.
Loren put down his duster and took her list. "Help yourselves to that chewing gum there," he told
the children. "It's a new flavor."
"Thanks, Mr. Bray," Red Eagle said as the children scampered off toward the candy jars.
"Afternoon, Michaela, Loren," Dorothy said cheerfully as she entered the store with her reporter's
notebook around her neck and a small stub of a pencil in one hand. "I need a new pencil, Loren.
I've worn this one out."
"Get in line. I'm helpin' Dr. Mike," he said, climbing up onto a step ladder.
"Afternoon, Eliza Quinn Sully," Dorothy said, reaching into the sling and grasping the baby's hand.
"Oh, you're sleepy today."
Michaela smiled down at the baby, then glanced back up. "Oh, did you hear the good news? Myra
and Samantha are coming out here to visit Horace."
"Myra, too? Oh, how exciting!" Dorothy exclaimed.
"Good for Horace," Loren said grouchily.
"Loren, what's got you in such a bad mood?" Dorothy demanded.
"I'm not in a bad mood," he protested, stepping down from his ladder with a few cans. "I just
wanna know where all my customers are. I haven't had more than a dozen people in here all
afternoon."
"Oh, probably because everybody's over at the bank," Dorothy said.
"That's right," Michaela said. "I'd forgotten about that."
"Forgotten about what? What's going on at the bank?" he demanded.
"Don't you read the Gazette?" Dorothy replied. "Preston's installing the first telephone in Colorado
Springs today. I gotta get back there to report on it."
He opened a drawer, finding a pencil. "What in thunder? Where'd he get a fool idea like that?"
"Telephones are becoming popular in all the big cities, Loren," Michaela said. "It was only a matter
of time before they came here, too."
"Yeah, Gran'ma's got one in Boston," Byron remarked, approaching the counter and chomping on his
gum.
"She does, does she? Well, even Elizabeth can make a mistake. Sounds like a waste of money to
me," Loren said, walking toward the door and putting his hands on his hips.
"They do seem like more trouble than they're worth sometimes, according to Mother," Michaela
remarked.
"Loren, where you going?" Dorothy asked. "You just said it's a waste of money."
"I wanna see for myself this fool invention, all the money I'm savin' not gettin' one myself."
"Can we go watch, too, Mama?" Byron asked.
She grabbed his hand. "Certainly. Let's all go."
Michaela and the children followed Loren and Dorothy over to the bank nearby. A large crowd was
assembling on the porch, eagerly listening as Preston made his first phone call on a shiny wooden
box with a big black receiver mounted to the wall just inside his bank.
"That's it?" Loren demanded. "Looks like one big eyesore to me."
"We've already seen a telephone in Boston," Red Eagle remarked proudly. "We even talked on it."
"Yeah, I'm kinda not that excited about them anymore," Byron said with a shrug.
"Good, you shouldn't be," Loren said. "Nothin' to see here."
"Hey, Ma," Brian said, walking over to her with a pencil stuck behind his ear. "Come to watch the
show?"
"We were all curious," Michaela said with a smile. "Is it working?"
"We'll find out pretty soon," he replied, taking out his pencil and writing down something in his
notebook.
"First National Bank, please. Denver," Preston said loudly into the mouthpiece.
The crowd oohed and ahhed and Dorothy and Brian wrote furiously in their notebooks.
"Good afternoon. Preston A. Lodge the third speaking," he went on. "Is President Spangle available?
"
More impressed gasps from the crowd as Preston smiled at them smugly.
"Look at him. Don't he think he's special," Loren grumbled.
Red Eagle grabbed his hand and smiled up at him. "You're special, Mr. Bray."
"Aw," he muttered, tousling the little boy's hair.
"Yes, Mr. Spangle," Preston said. "Yes, yes, lovely to speak to you again, too, sir."
"Well, that's that," Loren said. "I've seen what I came to see."
"Why don't you get a telephone, Mr. Bray?" Katie suggested. "For your store."
"Nope, not me. I like peace and quiet myself. No loud boxes allowed in my mercantile."
"Oh, well, I was thinking we could borrow it to call Boston," Katie said. "Talk to the aunties."
"Silly. You can't call as far as the aunties, right Mama?" Byron said.
"No, not quite yet," Michaela admitted. "But sooner than we think. When I was your age everyone
said the telegraph wouldn't catch on. But telegraph wires were stretching clear across the country in
only a few years."
"Telephones aren't telegraphs," Loren said firmly. "This is all just a big fad, a way to swindle
everybody out of their money. Anybody with half a brain won't fall for it."
"I don't know, Loren. I have a feeling telephones are here to stay," Michaela said as they headed
back to the store.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," he replied, walking inside and heading briskly to his
counter.
Sully added a log to the dying fire in the sitting room. Elizabeth was in one chair working on her
needlepoint, her cane resting against the armrest, and Michaela was in the other, the baby tucked
up against a pillow as she nursed.
"You should have seen everyone, Mother," Michaela remarked. "Preston drew quite an impressive
crowd with that telephone of his."
"Sounds like it. I often wonder if the telephone is going to make the telegraph obsolete."
"Yes, so do I," she replied. "Still, at the moment telegrams are still a lot cheaper, more reliable. And
just as quick."
"I suppose. Speaking of which, when do you start work for Horace, Sully? Next week wasn't it?"
Elizabeth asked.
He glanced up. "I ain't even said yes yet, Elizabeth."
"I don't know what the problem is. I think you should take it," she remarked. "It sounds like a fine
job to me."
Michaela watched Sully curiously. She could tell there was something weighing on his mind. It
wasn't like him to turn down work unless he had a good reason.
"What is it, Sully?" she asked perceptively.
He got to his feet and folded his arms, leaning against the mantel. "It's the railroad."
"The railroad? What does that have to do with anything?" Elizabeth asked.
"I'd be workin' for 'em. They'd be payin' me. Horace said my pay comes from his supervisors in
Denver. Those supervisors are railroad men."
Michaela cleared her throat. She knew full well how Sully felt about the railroad and the negative
effects on the town, not to mention the Indians. It had always been hard for Sully to see the good
things the railroad had brought. It made it much easier to visit far-away places like Boston, and
shipments of medical supplies and other things they needed often arrived in only a few days or
weeks, when before it could take months. "Well, you're not exactly working for the railroad. You'd
be working for Horace."
"Yes, think of it as working for Horace," Elizabeth added.
He shook his head. "Still don't sit right."
"Oh, Sully. You're so picky sometimes," Elizabeth scolded as she made another stitch.
"Picky?" he blurted.
"Yes, picky. Horace needs your help. Surely there's nothing wrong with just helping your friend
expand his office a little so he's more comfortable while he's working."
"I guess. Guess we need the money, too." He sighed. "All right, I'll do it."
"It won't take too long," Michaela said reassuringly. "Knowing how efficiently you work you'll be
done in no time."
"Yes, picky and speedy," Elizabeth said with a soft chuckle.
Sully smiled a little and then stepped closer to Michaela to gaze at the baby. She had both her arms
strewn above her, and Michaela often had to move her hands away from her face so they wouldn't
interfere with her suckling.
"Look at the way she likes to nurse with her hands up by her head like that," Michaela said with a
soft chuckle.
"That's exactly how you used to nurse," Elizabeth remarked, glancing at the infant. "I'd try to pull
your arms down and you'd just raise them right back up again. Stubborn from the very start."
"Really? I did the same thing?" Michaela said with a smile.
"Michaela, would you like me to look after her tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked. "You can't be getting
very much done at the clinic if you have to tend to her all the time."
"No, that's all right," Michaela said, holding the baby a little closer.
"You don't intend to take her into the clinic with you every day, do you? I'm not sure how you're
going to manage."
Michaela glanced at her, swallowing hard. "I'm managing fine. I'd rather have her close by the way
she's nursing so frequently right now." The baby released her hold and turned away from the
breast, and Michaela laid her over her shoulder and patted her back.
"May not be a bad idea, Michaela," Sully spoke up. "Let your ma take over a little bit."
"Yes, that's what I'm here for," Elizabeth added.
She looked up at him a moment, patting Eliza's back firmly. "We're fine for now."
"Well, I don't know how you do it," Elizabeth remarked. "Martha always took over everything so I
could get my proper rest. I was absolutely done in after you were born. I'm tired just thinking about
it. I don't think I left my bed chambers for three weeks. Thank goodness Martha looked after you
and the older girls for me."
"Oh, she needs a fresh diaper," Michaela said, standing up abruptly. "Excuse me."
Elizabeth and Sully shared a glance and watched as Michaela headed toward the stairs, quickly
disappearing up them.
Samantha scampered down the train steps, dressed in a pretty light blue pinafore and hat, her hair
curled neatly.
"Samantha, be careful," Myra warned as she followed after her. "Don't trip!"
The little girl spotted Horace waiting for them outside his office. He burst into a smile and rushed
down the steps.
"Papa!" Samantha cried, bolting to him and wrapping her arms around him.
He lifted her off her feet, choking up and holding her close. "Samantha. Oh, how'd you get so big?"
She locked her hands together and closed her eyes. "I don't know. Papa."
Loren approached the train station. "Horace, where's the mail? I'm expectin' a package." He tapped
his shoulder. "Horace!"
"I'll get it later," he replied.
"Later!" he exclaimed. He rushed around the side of the train in desperate search of the mail bag as
the porters unloaded the luggage car.
Myra watched father and daughter reunite with a soft smile. Horace glanced at Myra with a little
nod.
"Thank you, Myra."
"You're looking good, Horace," she replied.
"So are you. Did you have a good trip?"
"Yes, just fine."
William awkwardly gathered together his suitcase and cleared his throat, stepping closer to them.
Myra turned to glance at him. "Oh, Horace, this is William. He was doing some painting on my
house and I thought he could help you expand the office. He's handy with things like that."
He glanced at the old man a little skeptically. "Well, Myra, honey, I already hired some men to do
that."
"Well, couldn't you hire one more? You won't find anybody better than William."
He sighed. He was too happy to see his daughter to care very much at the moment about who this
William person was and why Myra wanted him to hire him. "Sure. I could use one more."
"Thank you, sir," William said. "Let me get the rest of your luggage, Miss Myra."
"Oh, thank you, William," she replied.
"Myra!" Michaela called excitedly as she hurried across the tracks, one arm wrapped around Eliza
nestled in her sling.
Myra beamed and rushed over to her, embracing her tightly.
"Oh, Myra!" Michaela exclaimed. "We've missed you!"
"It's so good to be back, Dr. Mike!" she replied. She broke apart and looked in the sling. "Oh! Is this
the little one I've heard about?"
"This is Eliza," Michaela said proudly. "She's ten days old."
Loren rushed back around the tracks. "Horace? What about the mail?"
Everyone ignored Loren and just fussed over the baby.
"Oh, she's beautiful. Oh, congratulations." Myra reached in and tickled the baby's cheek. "She looks
sturdy, too! How much does she weigh?"
"Six pounds, four ounces as of this morning," Michaela said with a big smile.
"Who cares what she weighs?" Loren exclaimed. "Everybody always wants to know how much they
weigh!"
Michaela glanced up at him, a little confused. "What do you mean?"
"Huh?" Horace replied.
"Nobody ever wants to know whether they're healthy and have all the parts in the all the right
places. They just want to know exactly how much they weigh," Loren explained sourly, hands on his
hips.
Michaela chuckled and shook her head as she turned her attention to Myra's daughter. Samantha
looked up at the doctor shyly.
"And this must be Sam. Welcome to Colorado Springs," Michaela said, caressing her shoulder.
"You remember Dr. Mike, Samantha?" Myra prompted.
Samantha shyly shook her head, holding onto Horace's hand.
"That's all right. The important thing is I remember you," Michaela said, touching her freckled cheek.
"And you are even prettier than the last time I saw you."
She giggled and cuddled against Horace.
"How old are you now? Nine?" Michaela asked.
"Nine and a quarter," Samantha replied.
"Oh, nine and a quarter, I stand corrected," Michaela said with a chuckle. "My daughter Katie is just
a little younger than you. Would you like to come play with her sometime?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."
Michaela patted Myra's arm. "Sully and the children couldn't make it. They had baseball practice this
afternoon. But we want to invite you all to supper tonight."
"Baseball practice?" Myra repeated.
"It's a long story. We'll tell you over supper!" she replied.
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Mike," Myra said. "We'll come."
"Want to get some blackberry pie over at the café?" Horace asked, glancing at Samantha.
"Oh, yes, Papa!"
"Here's the luggage, Myra," William said as he rejoined the group carrying a heavy trunk.
"Oh, Dr. Mike, this is a friend of ours. William. This is that lady doctor I was telling you about."
"How do you do," William said, extending his hand and shaking with her.
"Good afternoon," Michaela replied, raising her eyebrows at his proper accent. He was a tall,
handsome old man with a full head of dark, thin gray hair. He had a strong, proud jaw and he was
very tan. His clothes were modest and a bit tattered, and Michaela detected a deep kindness and
sincerity in his hazel eyes. She liked him immediately.
Myra sighed. "Well, let's get your surrey, Horace, and bring our luggage over to the boarding
house."
"Aww, Mama, I wanna get some pie," Samantha protested.
"We will. As soon as we get the luggage!"
"Oh, I can do that, Myra. I'll get the luggage. I'll bring it over and get you settled in," William said,
putting his cap on.
"But you don't even know where the boarding house is," Myra replied.
"I'll show him," Michaela offered. "You two haven't seen Horace in a long time, Myra. You should
head over to the café and relax."
Horace nodded his consent and Myra relented, putting her arm around her daughter. "All right.
Thank you, William. And thank you, Dr. Mike."
"See you tonight," Michaela replied, waving as they walked down the podium.
"Tonight!" Myra replied, grabbing Samantha's other hand.
Michaela picked up a few light hat boxes and William lifted one of Myra's trunks.
"Well, it's just down the street," Michaela said with a smile, leading the way. "Have you known Myra
and Samantha a long time, Mister…?"
"Oh, just William, ma'am. I'm just a poor ole man living from job to job. No need for formalities. No,
I haven't known them long at'll. I was painting Miss Bing's house last week when she said Mr. Bing
might have some work for me. So here I am."
"Your accent, it's lovely. Were you born in England?"
"Yes. Hampshire. It be in the south, near the channel."
"I hear it's beautiful there. Lush and green. Did you move to America recently?"
"No. A long, long time ago."
"Well, this is it. I know it's not much but it's clean and warm," Michaela said as they approached the
boarding house. She placed the hat boxes on the bench outside. "I'd love to have you over for
supper with Myra and Horace tonight, William. You can tell us more about England."
"Oh, you're too kind. But I think I'd better let old friends catch up. I'd be a bother."
"No, not at all."
"Please, I insist. Don't worry about me."
"Well, all right then. Perhaps another time. I'm afraid I need to get back to my clinic. I have an
appointment. But I hope I'll see you soon, William."
"Same to you, ma'am," he replied, putting the trunk down and touching the brim of his cap. He
gave the sleepy baby a wave. "And to you, wee little one."
to be continued...
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Chapter Two
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Samantha chattered on endlessly about her school and her friends and her life in St. Louis, holding
Horace's hand the entire time as she sat with her parents in the café. Horace couldn't help being a
little distracted thinking about the stranger Myra had brought along, and more than once he looked
toward the direction of the boarding house and sighed a few times.
When Samantha stopped talking for a moment to take a few gulps of cider, Myra gave him a stern
gaze.
"What is it, Horace?" she demanded.
"Nothing," he protested.
"We just got here and you're already doing that look."
"What look?"
"You know the look I mean."
"Who is that man, Myra? That William fella?"
She sighed. "Oh, him. I told you, he's a handyman who did some work for us."
"He's from this far-off country called England," Samantha added.
"I don't like him," he said resolutely.
Myra gasped. "Horace, what's not to like? He's the sweetest old man. He's very kind to Samantha,
and he did such a good job on the house. I just know he'll work out."
"You've known him, what, a few weeks? And you got on a train with him and traveled all the way
out here with him, just you and Samantha? Myra, that was dangerous."
"Oh, no it wasn't!" she said with a chuckle.
"Why'd you promise him I would hire him?"
"I didn't promise. Oh, Horace. Just give him a chance. Like I said, he's the sweetest old man."
"What's his last name?" he demanded. "Maybe I could send some telegrams, find out about him.
Make sure he's not wanted."
"Wanted?" she said with a laugh. "Horace, you're completely overreacting."
"Just tryin' to protect you and Samantha. Didn't know there was anything wrong with that. Now
what's his last name?"
She hedged a bit, picking up her coffee cup. "Well, he, he goes by William."
"You don't even know his last name?" He shook his head. "This is just like you, Myra. Just like you."
"Stop!" Samantha suddenly pleaded. "Mama, Papa. Stop."
They both looked at her, surprised.
"Please don't fight," she said, shaking her head. "Please don't fight with Mama, Papa."
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry." Horace edged closer to her and put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. Your
papa's sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," Myra said. She reached out and rubbed the little girl's arm.
Myra and Horace were over, they had both known that for some time. There was no hope of ever
reconciling and giving marriage another try. But lately they had really been trying to get along better
for Samantha's sake. The little girl was happier when they were kind to each other and weren't
talking negatively about each other, and she did better in school and was a lot more easygoing. As
much as it was difficult to try to avoid bickering, it was worth the effort. But occasionally they would
forget themselves in her presence, and they both always felt very guilty afterward.
"We won't fight anymore," Horace vowed, kissing her head. "You want another piece of pie?"
She smiled, nodding.
"Now, I know you must remember Miss Grace's food!" Myra said.
Samantha giggled and climbed into Horace's lap, wrapping her arm around him.
Loren quietly opened the door of the bank and stepped inside. He crossed his arms and stared at
the telephone mounted to the wall a moment. Then he picked up the receiver and turned it in his
hands curiously.
Preston tapped him on the shoulder. "Loren? What can I do for you?"
"Ah!" Loren said, turning around with a start and dropping the receiver. "What're you doing, going
and sneaking up on an old man like that?"
"Sneaking up? I'm just trying to help a customer."
"Well, let me know you're coming next time."
"You like my telephone? A real wonder, isn't she?"
Loren put the receiver back. "Wonder? It's big and bulky and an eyesore."
"Progress, Loren. Societal improvements. Don't be afraid of it."
"Who's afraid of societal improvements? I'm not afraid of societal improvements."
"Why don't you get one for your store?" he suggested. "You could contact your suppliers in
neighboring towns much more quickly and efficiently."
"No, sir. The mercantile is never getting one of those things as long as I own it. I never had any
problems getting along without one before and I never will."
"Well, if you don't want to draw in more business that's up to you," Preston said, walking behind his
counter and opening a cash box.
"What do you mean? What's a telephone got to do with more business?"
He glanced up. "With a telephone you could special order anything a customer wanted right there
and then. Your mercantile would be the only place to go to buy anything you could possibly want."
He flipped through some bills. "A few years time and you could even expand, open up stores in
Manitou, Denver."
"Denver?" Loren said, eyes brightening a little.
He smiled. "Of course, Colorado Springs will always be where Bray's Mercantile first originated.
Where it was first made famous."
"Famous," he murmured.
"I could put you in touch with Bell Telephone Company in Denver. They'll come out within the week
to install it."
"We'll see," he murmured. "Let me think about it."
"Don't think too long, Loren, before someone else gets the same idea."
"Talk around town is that you're engaged, Brian," Myra said with a sweet smile. Horace, Myra and
Samantha and the entire Sully family was gathered around the dining room table eating rhubarb pie
from Grace's.
"Yes, ma'am," Brian replied. "The wedding's in June."
"Who's the lucky girl?"
"Sarah Sheehan."
"Sarah Sheehan? Sarah that young lady who used to take piano lessons, too?"
"That's her," he replied with a smile.
"Well, I don't believe it. Where did the time go?"
"I know. Imagine how I feel," Michaela said, giving Brian a soft smile as she cradled the baby in her
lap.
"I'm never getting married," Katie announced. "Boys are yucky."
"Oh, yeah? Well, I'm never gettin' married neither," Byron retorted. "Girls are yuckier."
"Yeah, me neither! Yuck!" Red Eagle added.
Samantha giggled and the rest of the children followed suit.
"All right, that's enough," Michaela said with a chuckle. "Why don't you run along and play outside
while there's still a little light left? Clear your plates please."
The children got up and headed to the kitchen with their plates and silverware and then ran out the
back door.
"Miss Grace's pie sure is a lot better than that train food," Myra said, taking another bite of it. "The
whole supper was delicious, Dr. Mike."
"Oh, train food. Don't remind me," Elizabeth remarked, shaking her head.
"Sully, let me ask you something," Horace spoke up, taking a sip of coffee. "Would you let Dr. Mike
and Katie get on a train all by themselves for two whole days with some handyman they just met?"
Sully took a bite of pie, glancing at Michaela and clearing his throat.
"Myra and Samantha just got on a train with some old man who was paintin' their house, paid for
his ticket and everything," Horace explained. "Who knows who he is?"
"Horace, do you have to bring this up all over again?" Myra spoke up with a sigh. "He's been
carrying on all day about this, Dr. Mike."
"I just want to know what Sully thinks, that's all, Myra," he replied.
Sully glanced at Michaela again. She was rubbing the baby's back and looked intently interested in
what he had to say.
"Well, I reckon it'd make me a little nervous," he admitted.
"Why?" Michaela asked.
Sully could see himself rapidly digging a hole he wasn't going to be able to climb out of. He was a
little irritated that Horace had put him on the spot like this. "I'd just want ya to be careful around
somebody ya don't really know, that's all I'm sayin'."
"You don't trust my judgment of character?" Michaela replied.
"See, that's exactly what this is about," Myra said impatiently. "Horace doesn't trust me. He never
has."
"I trust you," Horace said. "Most of the time."
"What do you have against William anyway?" she asked. "What was so wrong about offering a nice
old man a job?"
"Nothing," Horace said petulantly, taking another bite of pie.
"William gonna be workin' with us?" Sully asked, sipping his coffee again.
"That's right. Myra made me hire him."
"Horace. I didn't make you."
"What else was I supposed to do, Myra? You dragged him all the way out here promising him he
could work for me."
"He got experience with construction?" Sully asked curiously.
Horace glanced at him. "I guess so. Who really knows."
"Well, I think he's going to work out just fine," Michaela spoke up. "After all, Myra said he did a
wonderful job painting her house."
"Painting's a little different than construction work, Michaela," Sully pointed out.
"I don't know, he sounds fairly harmless to me," Elizabeth said. "He just needs a job like everyone
these days. I think everyone should leave this be."
Horace shook his head. "Don't seem right, givin' somebody who don't even live here a good job
when there's plenty of men around here who could use the money."
"Just because Samantha likes him, that's what this is about," Myra spoke up. "You're jealous she's so
fond of him."
"Myra!" he exclaimed.
Michaela met Sully's eyes. Horace and Myra's squabbling was really starting to make everyone
uncomfortable. "Um, does anyone want more coffee? I can put another pot on," Michaela said.
"I'll take some, Ma," Brian immediately spoke up.
"Yes, me, too," Elizabeth said helpfully.
She nodded at them gratefully. "Myra, could you help me?" she asked, nodding at the kitchen firmly.
"Please?"
"Sure, Dr. Mike," Myra replied, getting out of her seat.
"Do you like St. Louis?" Michaela asked as she sat on the porch, the baby resting over her shoulder.
The children were playing on the rope swing out by the oak tree, Sully, Brian and Horace pushing
them on it and all of them laughing and giggling. A beautiful spring sunset was stretching across the
mountains and turning the sky a brilliant red.
"Oh, we love it there," Myra remarked, taking a sip of coffee. "Samantha loves school and has lots
of friends." Her lips turned up into a little grin.
"Myra, have you…?" Michaela mirrored her smile. "You've met someone."
Myra nodded shyly.
"Who?" Michaela asked curiously.
"His name's John Madigan. He runs a steamboat company. Samantha goes to school with his son.
That's how we met. His wife passed on couple years ago."
"You're in love," Michaela said wryly.
Myra chuckled softly, stirring her coffee. "Yes, I s'pose I am."
"Is Samantha fond of him?" she asked.
"Oh, she likes him. He's good with her." She bit her lip. "We've been courting about a year, and last
month he proposed."
"Engaged!" she exclaimed. "Myra, congratulations!"
"Shh, shh," Myra replied, waving one hand. "I haven't told Horace yet."
"Oh," Michaela murmured.
Myra sighed. "I don't know, I been putting off telling him. I s'pose I'm afraid to."
"You'll have to tell him eventually."
"I'll tell him. But not yet. I don't want to spoil his visit with Samantha." She sighed again. "That's
part of the reason I came out here. I wanted to tell him in person. I figure I at least owe him that."
"Myra, are you two….are you doing all right? Forgive me for prying."
"No, that's all right. I guess we're as well as can be expected tryin' to share a daughter eighthundred miles apart from each other."
"It's nice that you could bring Sam out here for such a long visit."
"It's important to me that Horace is in her life. John's going to make a fine stepfather. But I still
think she should have her real pa around."
"Yes, I think so, too. Myra, if you'd ever like to send Sam out here in the future without you, Sully
and I would be happy to help Horace out. She could even spend the nights here with Katie."
"Oh, she'd love that. Thank you, Dr. Mike."
The baby made a little gurgling sound and clutched Michaela's blouse in her fists. Michaela kissed
her head lovingly. "Would you like that, Eliza? Would you like to have Sam over at our house?"
"What about you and Sully? How you two doing?" Myra asked. "I was just so sorry to hear about
Jack passing on, Dr. Mike."
She nodded solemnly. "It's been a tough year. But we're making it through." She kissed the baby
again. "And now that we have her…we've never been so blessed."
"She is about as sweet as she could be," Myra said, putting her coffee cup aside. "Could I hold her?
"
Michaela didn't know why she suddenly felt hesitant. Myra was a mother and there was no reason
she couldn't trust her with the infant. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, of course." She
carefully laid the baby in Myra's arms and sat close, nervously watching their every move.
"Oh, you're a tiny thing, aren't you, Eliza?" Myra said, gently rocking her. "Sometimes I miss this.
Sometimes I miss havin' a little baby to hold."
Eliza scrunched up her eyes and let out a little whimper.
Michaela clutched the baby's hand, her brow wrinkling a little.
"Who came up with her name?" Myra asked. "I just love it."
"I did," Michaela murmured, squeezing the baby's fingers worriedly. "I wanted to name her after my
mother."
The baby whimpered some more and tossed her fists. Myra kept rocking her and patting her back.
"Hush now, hush," Myra soothed.
"I'm sorry, I think she wants a feeding," Michaela said, abruptly reaching for the baby and lifting her
back in her arms. She hurried inside and shut the door, clutching Eliza tightly to her chest.
"It's wonderful that Samantha could come out here and spend some time with her father," Michaela
remarked as she laid Eliza on the end of the bed. "But it's too bad Horace and Myra don't seem to
be getting along."
Sully sat beside her and took off his boots. "Sounds like this William fella is comin' between 'em."
"When I met him I really liked him. I think there's some truth to what Myra's saying, that Horace is
a little jealous."
He grasped her bathrobe and leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. "I'd be jealous too my girls
started payin' attention to anybody other than me."
She smiled wryly as she slipped off the dirty diaper and grasped the baby's legs to wipe her off with
a damp cloth.
"May be some truth to what Horace's sayin', too," he remarked. "It's not such a bad thing to be
careful around folks before ya know 'em good."
"Myra's engaged," Michaela told him. "To a man she met in St. Louis."
"Is that right?"
"She hasn't told Horace yet."
"Best tell him soon before he finds out some other way. Better to hear it from her," he remarked as
he unbuttoned his shirt.
"Oh, no!" she suddenly exclaimed, looking down at the baby in a panic.
Sully glanced at the baby. "What?"
"She has a diaper rash. Oh, no. Oh, little sweetheart."
"That's all?"
"That's all? Look how red and inflamed it is. You changed her last, didn't you? Did you notice this?"
"I don't know. I can't remember." He slipped off his shirt and balled it up.
She walked to the vanity and opened her medical bag. "Sully, we really need to be more attentive
to things like this."
"She's all right. Babies get diaper rashes all the time, don't they?" He stroked the baby's head. She
was suckling her fingers and kicking her legs, content as ever. "She's happy. She's fine. Hey,
beautiful girl. What happened? Ya got a little diaper rash?"
Michaela returned to the bed with a tin of salve and dug her fingers inside, rubbing it liberally all
over the baby's bottom.
"Take it easy. She's gonna be slidin' all over the place," Sully remarked.
She regarded him impatiently and then patted a good amount of powder between Eliza's little legs
and pinned a clean diaper on her. Then she picked her up and cradled her lovingly.
"Oh, sweetheart. Are you all right? Does that feel better?"
"She's just fine, ain't ya?" Sully whispered, kissing the baby's head. "She's ready for bed."
Michaela edged down to the pillows and tucked the baby up to her chest. Sully got in beside her
and cuddled them close.
"See, she's fine," he whispered. "She's fallin' asleep."
Tears suddenly welled in Michaela's eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
"Michaela? What is it?" He caressed her cheek worriedly.
She shook her head. "I just feel like I've done something wrong."
"Ya ain't done nothin' wrong," he said immediately. "Things like that happen sometimes to babies."
"I'm just so afraid for her. I don't know why," she admitted. "I want to protect her from everything."
"I know. Me, too. But part of raisin' up kids means acceptin' things ain't always gonna go exactly the
way ya want. Ya do your best, that's all we can ask. You're a good ma, you're doin' a good job with
her, with all our kids."
She looked up at him tearfully. "You're a good pa, too."
He smiled and gave her brow a comforting kiss. "Get some sleep."
William led his horse down main street, one arm around Samantha as she sat up front and held onto
the saddle horn. With Myra busy catching up with old friends and Horace swamped at the post office
sorting through all the mail, he had offered to look after Samantha for a few hours. Myra had
immediately agreed, hugged him and thanked him profusely for his help. Horace just acted
aggravated, but he didn't protest. They would need someone who could help them out with
Samantha from time to time while she was visiting, and William was the most logical person to do it.
"How many kinds of sweet flowers grow in an English country garden?" William sang, his tenor
voice strong and full. "We'll tell you now of some that we know, those we miss you'll surely pardon."
"Daffodils, heart's ease and flox!" Samantha sang. "Meadowsweet and lady smocks."
"Gentian, puline and tall hollyhocks," he joined in. "Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, blue forget-menots. In an English country garden."
Samantha giggled and clapped her hands. "I love that song, Will." She looked toward the meadow
as a crowd of children were running out of the schoolhouse. "Oh, school's out! Can we go see Katie?
"
"Aye, of course." He squeezed the horse's belly with his thighs and sent him trotting into the
meadow.
"Katie!" Samantha called, waving.
Katie was on a swing and she leaped off as soon as she spotted her new friend.
"Hey, Samantha!" she called cheerfully.
Byron and Red Eagle followed quickly behind her with their books and lunch pails, eager to get a
look at the horse Samantha was up on.
William dismounted and then reached his arms up, lifting Samantha to the ground.
"So you're Katie," he said, giving the little girl's head a gentle pat. "I'm William."
She smiled up at him. "Are you her gran'pa?"
Samantha giggled, clutching his hand. "No, silly. He's just my friend from St. Louis. He paints."
"Oh."
"Hey, mister. Could I pet your stallion?" Byron spoke up.
"And who might you be?" William asked.
"We're the brothers," Red Eagle announced.
William chuckled. "Oh, I see. Well, good afternoon to you, the brothers. You may pet the stallion.
He's very gentle. He's from your blacksmith."
"Oh! Robert E.? He's got lots of good horses." Byron reached his hand up and stroked the stallion's
black nose. "Hey, horsey. Good horsey."
"Can you come over to my house and play?" Katie asked Samantha. "We can play dolls and go
down to the creek."
"I can ask my mama," Samantha said. "She'll say it's all right."
"Goodie," Katie said. "Wanna swing on the swings until my papa comes to pick me up?"
"Can I, Will?" Samantha asked.
"Go ahead," he replied.
The little girls ran off together, pigtails flying, and William gave the horse's shoulder a firm pat.
"She's a real beauty, isn't she, boys?"
"Yes, sir!" Red Eagle said. "You should race him!"
"He's not mine to race. I'm just renting him while I'm here."
"Samantha's so lucky. She gets to sit up on him. I wish I could," Byron said.
"Would you like to sit up on him?" William asked. "I don't mind."
"Oh, yes, mister! Please!" he exclaimed.
"Well, go on with you then," he replied, picking him up and placing him in the saddle. "There you
are! A handsome lad you are!"
Red Eagle gasped. "Look at you! Me next! My turn next!"
Byron grasped the reins. "Giddy-up! Giddy-up!"
William laughed and rubbed the horse's nose. "Nothing like a good horse beneath a man, what do
you say?"
"Byron!" Sully shouted as he headed toward them.
"Byron?" William murmured. "I once knew someone named Byron."
Sully walked briskly across the meadow and approached the horse, reaching up and lifting Byron off
the saddle. "Get down from there."
"Papa!" Byron cried. "No, Will was lettin' me sit up there."
He grabbed his shoulders. "What'd I tell ya about horses? What'd I tell ya?"
Byron bent his head guiltily. "I'm not allowed."
"Not unless ya got me with ya, or your ma," he said firmly.
Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Pa."
"It was my fault," William said. "I let the boy go up on him. I didn't realize."
Sully eyed him a moment. "You Myra's friend?"
"Yes, sir. William."
"William, I'd just as soon my kids stay away from horses if that's all right by you. Especially stallions.
They can be unpredictable sometimes."
"Of course. Certainly. I'm sorry."
"Katie!" Sully called. "Get your books. Come on."
Katie ran toward him, Samantha on her heels. "Papa, can Samantha come over and play?"
"Not today, Kates."
"But why?" she exclaimed. "Papa!"
"You got homework to do, baseball practice. We're busy today," he said.
She sighed. "Tomorrow?"
"We'll see. We'll ask your ma."
Katie glanced at her friend sorrowfully. "Goodbye, Samantha."
Samantha waved at her and held William's hand. "Goodbye."
"Does this hurt?" Michaela asked, pressing her fingers into the small of her patient's back.
"No," Loren said. He was lying face down on her examination table, his shirt off.
She moved her hand a little lower. "Here?"
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" he cried dramatically.
She quickly withdrew her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll get you something for that."
"Thanks," he muttered.
Sully threw open the door, walking inside. "Oh. Sorry, Loren."
"Sully, I have a patient," Michaela said, glancing back at him with surprise as she took down a tin of
salve from her cabinet.
"Oh, it's all right. It's only me," Loren spoke up.
"Can I talk to you?" he murmured, walking up to her.
"Now?" she replied incredulously.
"William put him up on a horse," he said, brow narrowed.
"William? Myra's friend? Put who on a horse?"
"Byron."
"Why would he do that? You're not making sense."
He sighed impatiently. "I come to pick up the kids from school and I see William with our kids, Byron
up on his horse. How many times we told the kids how dangerous horses are? How many times we
told 'em not to go near 'em without us? I think we oughta punish him. I think I should leave him
here with you and he'll miss his baseball practice today."
Loren slowly sat up on the examination table and eyed the couple worriedly as he put on his shirt.
"So being with his mother is a punishment now?" Michaela said.
Sully was getting irritated she wasn't taking this very seriously. He stepped closer to her. "It was a
stallion. He just got right up on him without any mind for everything we've taught him. He needs to
be punished."
"He was with an adult. You said William put him up there. William probably told him it was all right."
"If that's the case then maybe Horace was right. Maybe we can't trust this William fella."
"Because he let Byron sit up on a horse for one minute? Sully, he was just trying to be nice. I think
you need to calm down." She walked to Loren with the tin and handed it to him. "Rub some of this
on it. And apply lots of warm cloths. It should start feeling better by tomorrow."
"Thanks, Dr. Mike," he said, slowly getting down from the table and digging into his pocket for a
coin.
Sully folded his arms. "I'm leavin' him here with you and he can sit at your desk and do his
homework here. He's gotta learn you don't just go along with what a stranger says."
"Stranger? Sully, William's Myra's friend." She looked up at him resolutely. "No, we're not punishing
him. Not for this. You're not leaving him here."
Loren awkwardly put the coin on her desk. "Money's right there, Dr. Mike. See ya around, Sully."
"See ya," Sully said fleetingly, opening the door for him.
Michaela let out a big sigh as she went to the bassinet and lifted the baby out. "I need to nurse her
before my next patient. I'll see you at home."
"Michaela-"
She walked briskly to the door to the stairway and opened it, shutting it firmly behind her.
"I wish you lived in St. Louis," Samantha said sweetly as she cut into her pancakes. "You're the best
cook I ever met!"
Grace chuckled and refilled Myra's coffee cup.
"She's a little angel, Myra," Grace remarked.
"Oh, sometimes," Myra said, shooting her daughter a smile.
Grace headed back to her stove just as Hank rushed into the café, wearing a red string tie.
"Myra," he called, waving at her.
"Who's that, Mama?" Samantha asked.
"That's…an old friend," Myra said, smiling softly at him.
Hank burst into a huge grin. "I heard you were back in town. I've been real busy at the Gold
Nugget, haven't had a chance to find you yet."
"I've never seen you up this early before, Hank," Myra remarked, taking another sip of coffee.
"Never had a reason to get up this early before." He took a seat beside her and gave Samantha a
wink. "Hey, cutie. You sure got big."
Myra patted her daughter's hand. "Samantha, this is Hank. Can you say good morning?"
"Morning," she whispered.
"Mornin'. Are those blueberry pancakes?"
"Yes. I like the cook here."
"You like Colorado Springs?"
"Yes, sir. A lot."
Hank turned his attention back to Myra and gazed at her wistfully. "I always knew you'd come
back."
"It's just a visit, Hank," Myra replied.
"How long you gonna be here?"
"Not long. A few weeks," she explained.
"Maybe sometime the two of us, we could maybe have supper together."
"Hank," she protested with a slight roll of her eyes.
"What? You ain't married anymore."
"I just don't think that's a good idea, do you?"
"Well, Samantha can come, too. How's that? She can chaperone."
"What's that?" Samantha asked curiously, licking syrup off her fork.
"Never mind," Myra said.
"Just think about it," Hank said.
"So business is good at the saloon?" Myra replied.
"Never better," he replied proudly. "How's life in St. Louis?"
She rubbed Samantha's back. "We're very happy there."
"I hear they got a big river there, that true?" Hank asked, grinning at Samantha.
She grinned back softly. "Yes, sir. I road a steamboat on it once."
"You did? That musta been a good time."
"How's Zack doing these days, Hank?" Myra asked softly.
"Zack?"
"Your son. Zack."
"Oh. Well, last I heard he was still doin' just fine at that art school. Where's Horace?"
"Over at the telegraph office working. Why?"
"Just wondering."
"Hank! Hank!" someone called shrilly. A prostitute scurried into the café wrapped in a shawl against
the early morning chill. Her curls were falling and her rouge was smeared. "Hank, there you are.
We've been lookin' for you all over town. Old man Sanders just took off again without payin'!"
"I'll be there in a minute," Hank said.
"Hank, come on. This is the second time he's done this to me! He's gettin' away!"
"Sorry, Myra. Duty calls," Hank said, standing up. "I'll see you around town?"
"See you," Myra replied. She watched him follow the young prostitute back to the saloon and then
turned her attention back to her daughter. Samantha was bending her head and very slowly cutting
her pancakes. "Sam? Samantha? What's wrong, sweetheart?"
She sighed. "Sometimes I wish….I wish we lived here. With Papa."
"Oh, Samantha. But I thought you liked St. Louis. You have a nice school there and good friends."
"I know. But I like Colorado Springs better, Mama."
Myra edged closer to her and put her arm around her. "Well, we'll stay here awhile and have a good
visit with Papa, all right?"
"All right," she muttered as Myra kissed her hair.
"Remember try not to move out the pawns in front of the king once you've castled," Michaela
explained as she pointed to her corner of the chess board. "You want to keep your king safe."
Byron and Red Eagle listened attentively to the chess lesson, both of them strong admirers of their
mother's proficiency in the game.
Byron picked up his white knight and moved it to the center of the board. "Is this a good move,
Mama?"
"Michaela, look at this," Sully called from the sitting room. He was crouched on the floor beside
Katie, the baby between them on a blanket. "Watch how she kicks when I lift her up."
Michaela quickly got up and smiled as Sully raised her off the floor. Eliza kicked the air fiercely,
wiggling her legs and squirming. Elizabeth watched them from a nearby chair and chuckled.
"It looks like she wants to go swimming," Katie said with a giggle.
"Yeah, look at her!" Red Eagle added, getting up and joining them.
Sully chuckled as she kicked all the harder. "Ya wanna go for a swim, baby girl?"
"No swimming just yet," Michaela said. She crouched down and grasped the baby's foot, kissing her
toes. "I remember these little kicking feet. Yes I do," she crooned.
"Mama? Is this a good move?" Byron asked again.
She glanced back briefly. "Yes, that's good." She turned back around just as Eliza's lips curled up
briefly in what looked like a little grin. "Sully, did you see that! She smiled!"
"No, she didn't," he protested.
"Babies this little can't smile yet, Michaela," Elizabeth said.
"This baby can." She tickled the baby's chin. "Mama saw you smile. I saw that."
"Mama, it's your turn," Byron called. He waited a moment. "Mama? Your turn."
"I think your ma's right. Don't think she really smiled," Sully said.
"Yes she did," she protested. "Katie, you saw it, didn't you?"
Katie giggled and shook her head.
Byron watched them all gather around the baby and fuss over her, then he silently slid down from
his chair, leaving the chess board where it was, and headed upstairs.
William stepped into the telegraph office. He lightly tapped the bell on the counter.
Horace appeared from the back room, holding a few brown-wrapped packages.
"Good morning, Mr. Bing. Myra said I should stop by," William spoke up.
"Be with you in a minute," Horace said, returning to the back room. William took off his cap and
waited at the counter patiently. Finally Horace returned with a piece of paper and a clipboard.
"Paperwork from my superiors in Denver," Horace explained, handed it to him and finding a pencil
on his desk. "All the construction workers have to fill out this form so the government can pay you."
"Always paperwork," William said with a kind smile, taking the pencil. "I'll fill it out right away." He
licked the tip and quickly began writing down his information and checking boxes.
"Good morning, Horace," Michaela said as she stepped into the office holding a few envelopes, the
baby in her sling. "I have some letters to post." She glanced at the old man. "Oh, good morning,
William. I hope you're enjoying your visit."
He nodded at her and the baby. "Indeed I am. Good morning. And good morning to you, wee one."
Michaela reached in the sling and grasped the baby's fingers. "She smiled for the first time
yesterday. A real smile, not just air. At least, I think she smiled. My husband doesn't think so. We've
been arguing about this ever since it happened."
William chuckled. "A real smile did you make, is that right?"
"I just had to write everyone at home and tell them," Michaela said, putting her letters on the
counter.
"Where is home for you then?" William asked.
"Boston. I grew up there."
"Boston. Ah. I've been there."
"Oh, have you spent a lot of time back East?"
"A few years. I lived in New York for a time before heading West. But that was ages ago." He
handed Horace his paperwork. "Thank you, Mr. Bing. What time should I report on Monday?"
"Eight o'clock," he replied.
He put his cap on and tipped it at Michaela. "Ma'am." He exited the office and quickly crossed the
tracks.
Horace turned the clipboard toward him. "Let's see what his last name is. Probably James or
Younger or…" He stopped short. "Sully?"
"Sully?" Michaela repeated.
"Look at this, Dr. Mike." He turned it toward her.
Michaela glanced at the paperwork. "William Sully. Oh, what a coincidence. I wonder if we're
distantly related. Sully traces his roots to England, too."
"I'll be," he replied, reaching for his stamp. "Well, let me get these ready to go for you."
to be continued...
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Michaela added a cup of stock to the stew simmering on the stove. Elizabeth was sitting at the table
chopping some onions and Sully was at the other end of the table, the baby propped up in his lap.
"I wouldn't be at all surprised if you're related," Michaela said. "Perhaps distant cousins."
Sully didn't seem the least bit excited or even a little interested when Michaela told him that William
shared his last name. Michaela didn't understand his aloofness.
"Sully, don't you see? He could be family."
"Lots of people have that name," he remarked. "Common name."
"It's not that common," Elizabeth spoke up. "I've never met anyone else with that name."
"But, aren't you at all curious about your roots, about where your family came from?" Michaela
asked. She remembered her father had written out an extensive family tree of the Quinn line with
details all the way back to nobility in Ireland, and he had been working on the Weston line on
Elizabeth's side of the family as far back as he could go. Genealogy was important to him, and
someday she knew the children would appreciate being able to trace their roots like that. But on
Sully's side of the family, all she knew was that his mother's name was Katherine, and that his
father and brother had passed away and Katherine had followed soon after. It had always frustrated
Michaela a little that Sully had no interest in anything but the present.
He glanced up. "I got family. You and the kids, you're my family. I ain't never thought about any kin
I might have in England. Never really cared too much."
She sighed and turned back to the stove, stirring the stew.
Byron and Red Eagle rushed into the room. Byron was holding out a rattle.
"Here it is, Papa," Byron said.
"We found it in the trunk," Red Eagle added.
Sully smiled. "Shake it for her. See if she likes it."
Byron shook the rattle vigorously in front of Eliza. The baby looked at it curiously and sucked her
fingers.
"Here, hold it," Byron instructed. He grabbed her hand out of her mouth and pried open her fingers.
"Come on, Eliza. Hold it. Just hold it."
The baby suddenly screeched and kicked her legs, her face reddening. Sully rubbed her back to
calm her down and helped guide her fingers back into her mouth.
Michaela spun around. "What did you do? Byron, oh, please be gentle with her. Don't do whatever
you just did."
"What? I want her to hold the rattle."
"She can't hold it yet. She'll be able to when she gets a little older. Just, please be very careful with
the baby, all right? She's very little right now."
He frowned. "I am, Mama."
"She's all right, Michaela. No harm done," Sully spoke up.
She sighed, trying to calm herself. She didn't know why she was such a worrywart when it came to
the baby. Sully had pointed it out to her several times, and he was right, she really needed to make
an effort to relax. She rubbed Byron's back. "Perhaps you could shake the rattle gently for her, until
she's ready to hold it herself. Hm?"
He smiled softly and shook the rattle in front of the baby.
"Claudette hid all your rattles and toys when you were born and refused to tell us where they
were," Elizabeth remarked. "And Marjorie even tipped your cradle over once and you came tumbling
out. You took quite the spill."
Byron giggled, shaking the rattle.
"That explains a lot," Sully remarked with a teasing grin.
Michaela scowled at him. "That's not funny."
"I'd never tip you over, Eliza. Never, ever," Red Eagle said.
Michaela smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "You boys like your new sister?"
"I love 'er!" Red Eagle replied sweetly, leaning forward and kissing the baby's forehead.
Byron hesitated a moment. "Yeah," he finally murmured.
Michaela stroked Byron's hair and glanced at Sully. "I'd like to find out more about William. I want
to talk to him, Sully."
"Suit yourself," he replied, chuckling at the baby as she blew some bubbles between her pink lips
and waved her little arms.
Sully quietly opened the front door after hitching his horse and grabbed his belt off the table. He
slipped it on just as Michaela entered the room from the kitchen carrying a lunch satchel. Eliza was
resting over her shoulder, wrapped in a small quilt to keep out the morning chill.
"I didn't know you were up," he whispered. "It's early."
"The baby was awake anyway and I thought I could make you some breakfast for the road."
"Thanks," he replied, taking the satchel from her. He caressed Eliza's head. She was wide awake
and alert, as she usually was every morning at about five o'clock. If there was one thing the baby
had been over the first several days of her life, it was predictable. That's not to say her schedule
wasn't demanding. She cried for a feeding two or three times a night and routinely spit up and wet
her diaper after each and every meal, and she was up very early every morning eager to start the
day when Michaela and Sully might have liked to sleep a little longer. But at least they knew what
to expect from her. "Sure you're gonna be all right without me today?" he asked.
"I'll manage. I'll just take her to the clinic, hope that she sleeps so I can get a little work done."
"Why don't ya make it a short day, come home after lunch? Your ma can watch her and you can
take a nap yourself."
"I might just do that," she said, looking up at him with dark circles under her eyes.
He leaned down and kissed her. "How ya feelin'? Ya feel all right?"
"Tired," she admitted. "But happy. So very happy."
He smiled and gave her another gentle kiss. "I'll be back soon as I can."
"I know. Be careful."
He kissed the baby's soft cheek. "I'll see you tonight, baby girl. Listen to your ma."
Michaela waved the baby's tiny arm at Sully. "Bye-bye, Papa. Bye-bye. Good luck with your traps."
He opened the door, putting the lunch satchel over his shoulder. "I'll try an' bring home a couple
rabbits for supper. I can taste that stew already."
"Good morning, William," Michaela called as she made her way across the street, pushing Eliza in
the pram.
William closed the door of the boarding house and turned to face her with a smile. "Good morning."
"Have you had breakfast? Would you like to get some coffee and something to eat at the café?"
"Do they have tea?"
"Yes, I believe they do have tea."
"Yes, of course I'd love to dine with you."
She smiled and turned the pram around, leading the way. "Well, you won't believe what I've
discovered. We have the same last name. Horace mentioned it the other day when he was looking
at your paperwork."
"Your name is Sully? Oh, I thought it was Quinn."
"Well, yes, it is. I didn't change my name when I got married. But my children and my husband are
all Sullys."
"My goodness," he replied. "Imagine that."
Grace approached them and led them to a table. "Mornin', folks. Coffee?"
"Coffee for me, Grace. And William would like some tea," Michaela said, pushing the pram close to
her bench and sitting down across from William.
"Tea," Grace repeated, a little taken back. "Oh, all right. I'll put some water on."
William smiled at her kindly. "Thank you, ma'am." He looked across the table at Michaela. "Well, I've
never met another Sully before. Not in America anyway."
"Neither have we. I was thinking you and my husband might even be related somehow. His parents
were from England as well. They left for America before my husband was born."
"Who were his parents?" he asked curiously. "Where were they from?"
"Well, the truth is I don't know very much about them." She sighed softly. "Unfortunately he lost his
entire family when he was very young. He prefers not to speak of it. But his mother's name was
Katherine. We named our first child after her."
"Katherine?" he uttered. He swallowed hard. "What…what's your husband's name?"
"Oh, well, he goes by just Sully. But his first name is Byron. Have you ever heard of anyone named
Katherine Sully? She had two children. My husband Byron, and his older brother. I'm afraid I don't
even know his name."
"Byron Sully?" he repeated. The color drained from his face and he swallowed hard.
"William? What is it?" she questioned.
He slowly met her eyes. "Dr. Mike, I think your husband could be my son."
Her smile faded. "What? No, I'm afraid his father passed away some time ago. From what his
mother told him, it sounds to me like it was a heart attack. Sully was an infant when it happened."
He shook his head in disbelief. "After all this time. All this time. When is his birthday?"
"His birthday?"
"Was your husband born on December ninth? Eighteen thirty-five?"
Now the color drained from her face. "How did you know that?"
"Did he ever tell you the circumstances of his birth?"
"Circumstances?"
"Was he born on a ship? A ship bound for America?"
"Well, what will you have?" Grace said, approaching the table with a cheery smile and filled up a
mug with some steaming coffee for Michaela.
Michaela glanced up at her, still quite in shock. "Um, I'll just have some eggs and a biscuit, Grace."
"The same," William replied.
"Comin' right up. And your tea, too," Grace said, spinning back around.
"How did you know Sully was born on a ship?" Michaela whispered skeptically. "Who are you? Sully
said his father was dead."
"The truth is I don't know why he thinks that. His mother told him that? I'm not sure why she would
say that. But I was living in England when I met and married a girl named Katherine. We had our
first son right off, Kath and I. William the third. And she was with child when a massive drought
struck England and we got on a ship bound for New York."
Michaela was riveted. She leaned forward, nodding for him to continue.
"I didn't know the baby would be born before we arrived. Katherine told me he was to come on
Christmas. I thought for sure we would make it to American in time and be long settled in before he
ever made an appearance. But I suppose Byron thought otherwise. She delivered the baby a week
before we docked in New York. A big healthy baby boy he was. A fine son."
Michaela listened to his story in a near daze. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "William,
he thinks you're dead," she finally murmured hoarsely. "What on earth happened? Why weren't you
living with them all those years?"
He pressed one hand to his head. "That first year, that was tough. Our crops didn't fair well at all. I
told Katherine…I said I would look for work in Ohio. I was twenty years old, Michaela. I was a child.
I was frightened half to death. I thought they were going to take my home and put me in debtor's
prison and Katherine and the boys would starve. I was a coward and I ran. I'm still so very ashamed
of that time in my life." He took an unsteady breath. "When I sorted things out and returned several
years later, hoping to make amends, my family was gone. I found out Katherine and Will had died
and Byron was taken to an orphanage in the city. I went straight there. But they told me the boy
ran off."
"Yes, he did go to an orphanage," she affirmed. "It was awful there, he was terribly frightened. He
just had to run away or he thought he would die in there."
"I looked for that boy another ten years. I heard some rumors of a boy named Byron fitting his
description working this job or that. But I always seemed to be a few steps behind him. Eventually
folks said they stopped seeing him, and I lost hope. Made my way from job to job myself and
eventually ended up in St. Louis where I've been for thirty years now."
"I have to tell Sully right away. He has to know this."
"Where is he?" he asked.
"He's checking his traps. He said he'll probably be gone all day. But you could come for supper
tonight. We have to talk."
"I must sound like a crazy old man, laying this all on you."
She gently grasped his hand, gazing at him in a new light. She was sure the man in front of her was
her father-in-law. Her gut told her his kind eyes wouldn't lie. "No, I believe you, William. You know
too much."
"Supper tonight," he said. "I'll be there."
Byron crouched on the porch outside the clinic and held his top in his lap as he wound the string.
"You have to do it real tight so it spins fast," he instructed.
Red Eagle put his schoolbooks on the bench and got down beside him. "Let me show her, Byron."
"No, I'll do it," he said, biting his lip as he worked.
"Hurry up," Katie encouraged as she stood beside Samantha. "You're so slow."
"I'm not slow!" Byron protested. He stood up. "Now, you keep your arm real straight and let it go!"
He swung his arm and let the top fly onto the porch. It immediately capsized on its side and
wobbled back and forth. "Oh, no!" Byron exclaimed.
"It didn't work. You didn't do it right," Red Eagle said.
"Yes I did," he replied impatiently. "I did it just like Papa showed me."
"Let me show her. I'll do it," Red Eagle said, picking up the top.
"You're not so good at it either you know," Byron said, gazing at him skeptically.
"I'll get it to spin. You'll see," he replied resolutely as he wound the string.
Samantha giggled and sat on the bench. "I like playing with you. You're funny."
"Who, me?" Byron asked, pointing at his chest.
"Everybody. You make me laugh."
"I wish we could always play together," Katie said sadly. "I don't want you to go back to St. Louis."
"I don't either," Samantha replied with a small frown. "I want to stay here in Colorado."
"So stay here," Red Eagle said. "Move back here with your pa."
"I can't. My ma and pa aren't married anymore."
"Why?" Katie whispered.
"I don't know. They're just not married anymore. It's called a divorce."
"Hey, your ma and pa could get married again," Red Eagle spoke up pensively. "Then you could live
here!"
"Yeah!" Katie exclaimed.
Samantha shook her head solemnly. "When you get a divorce that means you hate each other. My
ma and pa don't want to live together."
"Oh," Red Eagle murmured.
"Maybe they could love each other again," Byron suggested.
"You think they could?" Samantha asked hopefully.
"Sure. We could help," Byron replied.
"How?"
He shrugged. "My pa does lots of things so Mama will love him. We'll just do what he does. Like pick
flowers."
"Yeah, and buy gifts and things," Red Eagle added.
"How will we buy my mama gifts?" Samantha asked.
"We'll figure out something," Byron said pensively. "I know we can."
"Your ma and pa are gonna fall in love, Samantha, you'll see," Katie said excitedly. "Then you can
live here forever!"
Samantha giggled. "Oh. Good."
Michaela opened the door, carrying the baby and her medical bag. "All right, I'm all finished," she
said quietly as she locked the door. "Let's head home."
Katie walked up to her. "Can Samantha sleep over tonight, Mama?"
Michaela headed to the wagon and tucked Eliza in her basket on the wagon floor. "Katie, it's a
school night."
"I know. We'll go to bed early, I promise."
"Tonight's not a good night anyway, sweetheart. We're having company for supper. Perhaps on
Friday she could spend the night if it's all right with her mother."
"But Friday's forever!" Katie cried.
Michaela glanced back at her and climbed up into the wagon, gathering the reins. "Katie, please,
Mama's very tired. Just say goodbye and get in the wagon. We'll invite Sam another time."
Katie hugged her new friend. "I guess I gotta go."
"That's all right. See you tomorrow, Katie."
"See ya, Sam," Byron said as he climbed up into the wagon with his top and schoolbooks. "I get the
front!"
Samantha waved at them and the children all waved back as Michaela headed the buckboard toward
home.
Michaela opened the front door and walked out onto the porch as soon as Sully came riding up, a
white-tailed rabbit tied to his saddle.
"Just one," he said, the disappointment in his voice evident. After a long day checking all his traps,
it was difficult to return home with not very much to show for it. He gazed at her a moment.
"Somethin' wrong? Baby all right? How's her diaper rash?"
"She's fine. She's with Mother. Sully, something incredible has happened," she said unsteadily,
stepping down the porch and holding her shawl around her shoulders.
He glanced at her in confusion and dismounted his horse. "What?"
"It's about William," she said. "I spoke to him today about his name. We need to sit down and
talk."
"What'd he say?" he asked coolly, grabbing the reins and leading his horse to the barn. "We related
somehow?"
Michaela followed him quickly. "Couldn't we go inside and sit down?"
"If this is so important just tell me right now."
"All right." She took a deep breath. "I think he's your father."
He let out his breath and smiled a little. "My pa's dead, Michaela. Died when I was a baby. You
know that." He pushed the barn door open and headed inside.
"I know. I know that's what you were told happened. But William and I had breakfast at the café
this morning and he explained everything. Sully, he knows everything about you. He says he left for
work when you were a baby and didn't come back until you had long since left for the docks. My
only guess is your mother told you he had died to spare you."
"He's just a crazy old man, Michaela," he said nonchalantly as he unbuckled his horse's saddle. "You
know when folks get up there in years, sometimes they say things that don't make sense."
"That's just it, it makes perfect sense. Everything he says corroborates everything you've ever told
me about your past. Sully he knows your birthday. And he knows you were born on a ship."
He hoisted the saddle onto the edge of the stall. "So he asked around, found out a few things about
me. What does that prove?"
"Who have you told about that, aside from me?" She reached up and touched her fingers to his
chin. "Your jaw. Your jaw is the same. And your nose. And your hands. William's hands look just like
yours and Byron's, too. Our son has his grandfather's hands. Sully, William is telling the truth."
He gently pulled her hand down, shaking his head. Then he grabbed the rawhide around the rabbit's
legs and pulled it forcefully to untie it.
"Why can't you believe this? Why won't you listen to me?" she said.
"Because I know you. You're so quick to give folks the benefit of the doubt. You don't wanna
consider this man's just senile."
"I know when a person is senile. I'm a doctor. And this man is not senile."
"Michaela, you're tired, got a lot of things on your mind. Ya just had a baby. I don't want ya around
somebody gettin' ya this worked up about somethin'. A lot more important things to think about
right now than some handyman from St. Louis with a big imagination. If he's gonna be botherin' ya
like this with these stories I don't want him to go near ya."
"I invited him for supper."
"Ya what?" he breathed.
"Sully, you have to talk to him. You have to at least give him a chance. At least hear him out."
"When's he comin'?" he demanded.
"Any minute now," she replied.
"Good. I'll get to the bottom of this right away."
He walked briskly toward the door and Michaela followed him. Just as she shut the door she spotted
William trotting up on his horse. He looked very tired and worn as he dismounted and tethered his
horse to the hitching post.
"William," Sully called as he approached him.
William regarded him in a new light, meeting his eyes and gazing into them in wonder. "Your eyes.
Those are Katherine's eyes."
Sully swallowed hard and laid the rabbit on the porch stairs. "Listen, you're upsettin' my wife tellin'
her the things ya have been, and I'm gonna have to ask ya to stop."
"I don't know what you mean," he replied, glancing at Michaela. Her face was drawn and worried
looking.
"You know what I'm talkin' about," Sully said a little more sternly.
"I'm afraid I can't stop."
Sully was becoming angrier by the second. "My growin' up years were painful enough without
somebody like you comin' in here makin' up all these lies. Who are you? Why you doin' this? Ya get
some kind of pleasure out of stirrin' things up like this?"
"I'm sorry it was so painful. But that's why I've been looking for you for so long. So I could make
amends."
"Sully, just listen to him," Michaela encouraged.
"Sully, your mother…Katherine was more than I ever deserved. You had the most loving, beautiful,
generous woman raising you. She was an angel."
"Get off my property," he spat. "Ya come near my family again I'm gonna see a judge about gettin'
a restrainin' order."
"Sully," Michaela protested, grabbing his arm.
"Go!" he ordered, pointing his finger at the horse.
"It was she who named you," he said desperately. "After her favorite poet. Lord Byron. That poem,
that poem she loved so much. It's haunted me ever since I found out of her drowning. 'And thou art
dead, as young and fair, as aught of mortal birth. And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon
returned to earth."
Sully glared at him with a mixture of furiousness and acceptance. He had never told anyone ever
about the poems Katherine read to him and his brother as they was growing up. 'And Thou Art
Dead, as Young and Fair' was her most favorite poem of all. It was heartrending, but Katherine
liked the sad poems. He supposed the depths of despair in Lord Byron's words made her feel a little
better about her own situation, her husband gone and all on her own struggling to make ends meet
and raise two young boys. Perhaps in comparison, real life didn't seem so bad.
Michaela knew Sully had a fondness for poetry, but he had never told her it was his mother who
had fostered that appreciation in him. And he had never, ever read this particular poem to Michaela
or ever mentioned it to anyone. It reminded him too much of losing his mother, a traumatic event in
his childhood that had left him deeply scarred, and one that he would just as soon never think
about again.
"How'd you know that?" Sully whispered hoarsely.
"Because," he replied. "Because your mother recited that same poem to me the day I married her."
Michaela looked up at Sully tearfully. She could see the corner of his mouth twitch and his brow
wrinkle in heartache. She held his arm securely, letting him know with her touch she was right there
with him.
"You run out on us?" Sully whispered.
"You see I-"
"You run out on us," he said resolutely. "Just took off when times got tough?"
"Let me explain, son, I-"
"I don't wanna hear it," Sully retorted, holding up one hand. "I don't care who ya are. I want nothin'
to do with ya." He turned around and walked back toward the barn.
"Sully!" Michaela called.
He ignored her and just kept walking briskly.
Michaela turned to William. He was discreetly rubbing away a tear that had fallen from his eyes.
"William, I'm so sorry," Michaela said. "Sully, he…he's always been so reluctant to talk about his
mother. Or anything about his childhood. This is very difficult for him."
"He has every right to be upset," he replied. "He's right, I ran out. I gave up."
"Give him some time. Let him process all this. He thought you were dead. We all did. Now in a
heartbeat everything's changed. We all need time."
He slowly nodded. "I should head back to town."
"No, I still want you to stay and eat with us."
"No, I should go back," he replied. "He needs me to go right now, and I want to respect that."
"We'll see you again soon," she replied hopefully, touching his arm.
"Aye," he replied quietly, grabbing the reins of his horse and mounting him.
Michaela was cuddled up with Eliza on her side of the bed, tenderly stroking the baby's back as she
dozed. Sully still wasn't home, and Michaela was very worried and desperately wanted to talk to
him. But walking away and going off by himself was how he always dealt with things that upset him.
He always returned shortly, and she had faith he would this time, too.
Eliza slowly began to wake up, blinking and tossing her head a bit. Michaela had quickly learned to
recognize the cues her baby made to show she was hungry, and respond to them before she began
crying in earnest. First she would look around, then smack her lips and sometimes chomp on her
fingers. After awhile she would whimper and fuss and rapidly start wailing if Michaela didn't react
quickly enough. Just as predicted, the baby brought her fingers into her mouth and suckled on
them, letting out a little snivel.
"Are you hungry? You want to rock in the rocking chair, close to the fire?" Michaela whispered. She
got out of bed and lifted the baby into her arms, carrying her to the rocker. Then she sat down and
unbuttoned her nightgown to expose her breast. The baby's nostrils flared almost as if she smelled
the scent of her mother's milk and she immediately turned toward the breast and latched on
vigorously.
"Oh, you were hungry," Michaela said with a soft chuckle, stroking her wispy dark hair. She glanced
at the clock. Eleven exactly. Sully had been missing for five hours now.
The baby had only been nursing a few minutes when Michaela thought she heard someone walking
quietly up the stairs. She sighed with relief when the doorknob turned and Sully opened the door,
entering the room. He looked just exhausted and his eyes were filled with heartache.
"I'm glad you're back," she whispered, gazing at him worriedly.
"I'm sorry," he said with a deep sigh. "Just needed some time to think."
"It's all right. I understand," she immediately replied.
He sat on the bed and took off his boots, piling them on the floor.
"William left just after you did," she explained. "He didn't stay."
He slowly nodded.
"Sully, we can't deny this. He's telling the truth." She bit her lip. "Sully, whatever his reasons were, I
know the idea that he wasn't there for you all your growing up years is hard to forgive. But he's
here now, and you have a chance to have a father for the first time in your life. And the children.
The children have a grandfather."
"The kids got Loren. They can go to him they feel like talkin' to a grandfather. Far as I'm concerned
he's a lot better man for them to look up to."
"I just think he needs to be given a chance to tell us his story, that's all."
"What about me? What about all those years he was off wherever he was, what happened to me
and my mother and my brother?"
"So tell me," she said. "Tell me about those years. Sully, I can't help you if you refuse to talk about
it."
"I ain't askin' for help."
"No, you're too stubborn for that," she replied intrepidly. She gazed at him. "Sully, your past is part
of who you are. Talking about it, sharing it with me might help you come to terms with it a little
easier. And it might help us understand how William fits into everything, to cope with him coming
into our lives."
He was quiet a long moment, folding his arms and staring into the flames of the fire. Just when
Michaela had given up hope he was ever going to talk about it, and she returned her attention to
the baby and rocked her rhythmically in the chair, Sully took a deep breath.
"I was about six years old when I started noticin' my family was different," he began. "It was just
me and my brother and our ma. And I started to really wonder about my pa."
"For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast," Katherine whispered
dynamically. She read poetry or storybooks to her sons every night. One cool October night she had
Byron snuggled up in her lap as usual and Will at her feet, leaning against her legs. "And the heart
must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the ni-"
"Mama?" Byron interrupted.
She glanced at him. "Yes, darling?"
"How come we don't have a father like the other kids?"
"You know the answer to that. You did have a father."
"I mean, I know I had a pa. Everybody does. But why isn't he here?"
"He died, dummy," Will spoke up.
Byron scowled at him. "I know! But how did he die?"
"Will, hush," Katherine scolded. She smoothed back her youngest son's hair. "His heart broke," she
explained patiently. "The year you were born was a bad year. There was some very bad weather
that took our crops."
"Oh." He thought a moment. "Can we visit his grave?"
She tensed. "No," she whispered.
"How come? I wanna see."
"Byron, shush up," Will scolded.
"Don't tell me to shush!" he exclaimed.
"Boys, enough. Both of you." She kissed Byron's head. "It's painful for your mother to visit his
grave. Do you understand?"
He sighed. He couldn't see what could be so bad about paying a visit to the cemetery. After all, lots
of people visited the little graveyard after church to lay flowers or light candles at their loved one's
resting places. But his mother was the love of his life, and whatever she said he obeyed. "Yes,
ma'am," he whispered.
"Now, let's finish the poem and go to sleep," she replied. "Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving, By the light of the moon."
The baby's suckling had slowed and she was falling asleep at the breast. Michaela continued to
stroke her hair, but her attention was all on Sully.
"What do you make of that?" Michaela whispered. "Do you think your mother just told you that to
protect you?"
"That's all I can figure," he replied. "Maybe she thought it'd be easier for me to accept that he'd
passed on, rather than that he'd run off." He gazed at the baby a moment. "Here, let me take her.
I'll burp her." He got up and lifted the baby from her lap, then found a cloth on the vanity and put it
over his shoulder.
Meanwhile Michaela got out of the rocking chair and opened her medical bag on the bureau, pulling
out a small tin and dipping her fingers into a pale yellow salve inside.
"What's that?" Sully asked curiously as he began patting the baby's back.
"A salve made from lanolin. She's suckling so hard she's starting to make me a little sore." She
reached her fingers discreetly inside her nightgown and grimaced slightly.
"You all right?"
"I'm fine. This'll help it feel better."
He kissed the baby's head. "What're ya doin', huh?" he whispered. "Ya got a real strong suckle?"
The baby let out a solid little burp and scrunched up her eyes.
"I'm glad she's feeding well," Michaela said. "I'm not complaining."
"She's feedin' a little too well. She's hurtin' her ma." He kissed her head again and sat in the rocking
chair, continuing to pat her back. Michaela smiled at father and daughter cuddled up together as
she buttoned up her nightgown.
"You adored your mother, didn't you?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," he murmured. "She was a special lady."
"It sounds like she loved you very much, too."
"That I know for sure. She told me all the time. She taught me you should tell folks how ya feel, not
be ashamed. She always said ya oughta say what's on your mind, 'cause ya never know what could
happen tomorrow."
She slowly nodded. She suspected there were a lot of wonderful qualities about Sully that had come
from Katherine, his ability to easily express his feelings for those around him he cared about the
most only one of them.
"She never gave you any indication your father might still be alive?" Michaela asked.
"No. But I had a lot of time to think today, and now I remember somethin' Will said to me once. My
brother."
"Your brother?"
"It was about a month before the accident happened. Before he passed away."
Katherine refilled Byron's glass of milk and caressed his head as he ate. "Good supper?"
Byron nodded eagerly and shoveled some more blackbird pot pie into his mouth.
Will picked at his food with his knife and fork. "Robert Duncan left for Fultonville today. To work
along the docks."
"Good Lord, so young." Katherine resumed her seat and took a sip of her tea.
"He's going to bring in good money, Mama. Good wages to support the family."
"No child so young should have to support the family." She picked up her knife and fork and slid a
bite of meat onto the back of the fork.
"They need lots of workers. They'll take a strong young man like me. Robert wants me to come
along."
"Strong young boy is what you are," she replied. "And we've had this discussion before. You're not
going." She took a bite and chewed slowly.
"How big is that canal anyway, Mama?" Byron spoke up curiously. "Does it stretch clear across the
country?"
She swallowed and smiled at him. "No, darling. Just across New York State to a lake called the Erie.
Still a long ways though."
"Oh, that's why it's called the Erie Canal!" he replied, taking another bite.
"I want to go, Mama," Will said firmly. "I'm going."
"You are not," she retorted. "You're going to stay here and finish your schooling. When you're
sixteen then you may take a job where you wish."
His cheeks reddened and he stood up. "You can't tell me what to do!" His voice cracked as he
spoke, as it had been apt to do recently.
"Yes, I certainly can. I'm your mother, lest you forget!"
"Mama, I could send my wages back to you and Byron. I could take care of us. I know I could take
care of us a lot better than Pa ever did anyway." He threw his napkin on the table furiously. "Do you
see us? We're eating blackbirds for supper! Damn it, Ma!"
She eyed him furiously. "Don't you dare take the Lord's name in vain ever again under my roof. And
don't insult your father's memory. You're twelve years old and you're still my son, and you're not
going anywhere!"
He groaned angrily and rushed outside, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could. Byron
gazed at the door for a moment, stunned. Then he turned his attention to his mother. She was
quietly dabbing at her tears with the corner of her apron.
He got up and walked to her side, giving her a comforting hug. "Shh."
"Oh," she murmured, hugging him tightly and kissing his head.
Byron slowly opened the barn door, sticking one hand in his pocket. Will was mucking out their
cow's stall furiously, face red.
"Mama's crying," Byron spoke up timidly.
"Good," he retorted, voice unsteady.
Will Sully had the kind heart of his mother, but he also had a temper. When he got good and angry
his tongue became sharp, and he had said hurtful things he later regretted on more than one
occasion.
"Good?" Byron echoed in disbelief. "Will, you made her cry!"
"I don't care. I hate her."
"What? Don't say that!"
"I do!" he shouted. "I hate her! Good for nothin'."
Byron eyed him lividly. An insult to his mother was an insult to him. "Don't say bad things about
Mama! Stop!"
"This is all her fault. Starting with the day she let Pa take off out West and leave us for good."
Byron stared back in utter confusion. "No she didn't. Pa died. His heart broke."
"Byron, you're so dumb. You're just so dumb." He raked harder and tossed some hay to the side.
"I am not!" he replied, stepping closer to him.
"She's just telling you that so's you won't cry like the baby you are. Pa took off when things got
bad, left Ma with the two of us. You don't remember, but I do. There is no grave in the graveyard.
Go on, see for yourself." He nudged their cow aside firmly. "Move, lazy ole cow. Move."
"It's not true!" Byron cried. "No! Liar!"
"It is true!" he retorted. "Ma's the one who lies. She's the liar!"
"No she's not!" He bolted toward him at full speed and pushed him as hard as he could, knocking
him to the ground. They scuffled furiously in the hay and dust, and Byron got off a good punch to
his older brother's mouth, drawing blood. William was a strong boy, but Byron could hold his own.
William had the upper hand, being a lot bigger, but Byron wasn't going to give in easily.
Katherine threw open the barn door. "Boys!"
The boys immediately stopped fighting, looking up at her.
"What's going on in here! Speak up!"
They slowly got to their feet and she marched up to them, brushing off Byron's hair of dust and
hay.
"We were just…we-" Byron stammered.
"We were fighting, ma'am," Will said. "I'm sorry."
"You're brothers," she said. "You must treat each other with respect."
Will pressed the back of his hand to his bloody lip.
"The three of us, we're all we have, don't you realize that?" she said tearfully. "We mustn't fight.
We must stay together, face our difficulties together."
"Yes, ma'am," Will whispered.
Byron wiped at a tear dripping down his cheek and looked up at his mother. He refused to believe
what Will had said, about their father abandoning them and his mother lying to him about it. It just
couldn't be true. He felt his chest tightening with fear. But why would his brother tell him such a
cruel thing if it weren't true? Either way, he would never tell his mother what Will said. Not ever. He
loved her too much to hold her to answer to such a thing.
"Yes, ma'am," Byron echoed bravely.
Katherine put her arms around them. "Come inside. We'll read some poems before bed."
to be continued...
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Chapter Four
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"I don't know, deep down I guess I always wondered if what Will said was true. If my pa wasn't
really dead," Sully whispered, clutching the baby tightly to his chest. "It weighed on my mind real
heavy after he told me that."
"Did you ever bring it up again?" Michaela asked.
"No. I thought about askin' Will a little more about it. But then…"
"But what?"
"I never got the chance," he whispered. "A month later he was killed."
Katherine knew she was right. Will was far too young to go off to work by himself and she believed
so strongly that education was important for her boys and that they should finish school. Even if
neither of them were the best student in their class and traditional book learning didn't come easy to
them, they were still bright boys and they would do better with some kind of educational foundation.
But she still felt guilty. She adored her sons, her life centered around them and their happiness, and
when Will stopped speaking to her after their horrible quarrel her heart nearly broke. She would cry
at night, and sometimes Byron would wake up and come sit on her bed, smooth away her tears and
hold her hand to comfort her.
Will still did all his chores, went to school every day and was obedient and helpful. And on market
day on Saturday morning, he drove Katherine and Byron into town as he always did.
"Get six of those potatoes, no eyes," Katherine instructed. Byron rushed to the crate of potatoes and
began looking through them. Meanwhile Will grabbed a burlap sack to fill with apples as Katherine
went to the vegetable stand.
Byron loved going to the market and helping his mother. She always treated him like he was very
grown up, letting him count the money to pay the various merchants and help fill up the wagon
with goods and supplies. And Saturdays spent with her and Will were always fun and relaxing.
Katherine was usually so happy on market days. She loved seeing what everyone was selling and
catching up with old friends. And after they had finished shopping, she would usually save a few
cents to buy the boys some fried apples or sometimes even a sugary scone sold at one of the
stands, and they would walk down to the Hudson together as they ate to watch the barges float by.
Byron always looked forward to this day together.
Katherine peeled back the stalk on an ear of corn and examined the lush yellow cornels. She added
it to her basket as they heard an auctioneer selling some horses and other livestock atop a podium
at one end of the market.
"Want to watch?" Katherine asked, squeezing Byron's shoulder.
He smiled and grabbed her hand, walking through the crowd to get a closer look at the horses. A
young man brought out a beautiful stallion across the podium so everyone could see. He was
cremello in color, with a coat and mane as white as a fresh-fallen snow.
"This handsome thoroughbred was born and raised on Jefferson Farms in Utica. Two years old,
good teeth," the auctioneer said. "Do I hear fifteen, who will give me fifteen?"
"He's got a flaw. Look at his ear," someone in the crowd spoke up.
Byron stood on tiptoe to see. "What's wrong with his ear, Mama?" he asked.
She shielded her eyes and peered closely. The horse's left ear was a bit mangled and tattered. It
was a fatal flaw to anyone looking to show the horse, but she didn't mind it and it shouldn't affect
the way he could run.
"Unfortunate run-in with a wolf when he was a foal. I assure you he races like the wind!" the
auctioneer said. "Ten, who will give me ten?"
"I'll give you five," someone shouted.
"Five, five do I hear seven, who will give me seven?"
Will wandered over to his mother and little brother, the sack of apples strung over his shoulder.
"Look, Will!" Byron said. "They have a lot of horses."
"They have some beauties," he remarked, eyeing the stallion in admiration.
"Do you fancy that horse, Will?" Katherine asked.
He glanced at her, swallowing hard. "Yes, ma'am," he whispered.
She smiled with relief, thrilled that she had spoken to him. She shot her hand in the air. "Seven!"
"Ma!" Byron exclaimed, bursting into a smile. "We're gonna buy the horse?"
"We're going to try," she replied, putting her arm around him.
"Seven, seven from the lovely fair-haired maiden right down here. Do I hear ten?"
"Ten!" somebody spoke up.
"Eleven!" Katherine immediately cried.
Will looked at her in disbelief. "Ma. Ma, you don't have to," he murmured.
She put her other arm around him. "Your thirteenth birthday is next week. You're a man now. It's
time you had your own horse to ride."
"Thank you, Ma," he said, drawing her into a gentle hug.
She hugged him back lovingly. "For you, Will. For my son."
"Eleven, do I hear twelve. Do I hear twelve? Eleven going once, eleven going twice. Sold to the lady
for eleven dollars. Congratulations, what a bargain!"
Byron leaped into the air. "He's ours! He's all ours!"
"He's your brother's," Katherine said, opening her purse. "It's his to care for and ride."
"Aww, Ma," Byron muttered.
"But you may have a turn from time to time if he sees fit, and I'm sure he will, won't you, William?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, beaming from ear to ear. "Our very own stallion. I can't believe it!"
Will led his new horse down to the river to drink, patting his white coat in admiration. If he wasn't in
school, eating or doing chores, he was with his horse, and Byron was always close behind. They
loved the stallion and Katherine was more than a little relieved to see her gift to Will had made
everyone so happy again.
"When can I get a turn?" Byron asked, trailing a few paces back. "Will?"
"Later. He needs to be watered first after that run," Will said as the horse dipped his head and
lapped up some river water.
Byron sighed impatiently and watched him drink a long moment. He wandered along the bank
absently, looking at the ground. "Look, Will. Tracks." He squatted down and pointed at the mud.
Will left his horse a moment and joined him.
"What's that, white-tailed deer?" Byron asked.
"Good guess. But see how big it is? That's a moose."
"Moose around these parts?" he questioned.
"I saw a couple of 'em with their calves last week, probably comin' down here lookin' to feed.
Lookin' for some new grass."
"Oh," Byron said. He gazed up at his brother in admiration. He always seemed so knowledgeable
about everything, and Byron often wondered why he needed school at all when he had his big
brother who taught him just about everything a body really needed to know, at least in Byron's
opinion. Between Will's knowledge of everything to do with the outdoors, and Katherine teaching
him a little of great literature and plenty of manners, Byron thought he was quite ready to make his
way in the world if he wanted to.
Will eyed Byron's upper lip. There was a small, fading scar where he had socked him a few weeks
before after their bad argument. "Golly. I really got ya good that time, didn't I?"
Byron smiled faintly. "That's all right. I got ya back."
Will gave his hair a playful tousle. He didn't have to say it, but Byron knew he cared about him.
Deeply. Whatever words they had exchanged were forgiven, and they were back to being brothers
again. Byron loved his older brother, looked up to him, and he adored it when Will let him tag along
even though Byron was younger and maybe Will might have wanted him to stay at home and not
bother him. But if he did he never said so.
"Boys!" Katherine called in the distance. "Boys, where are you? Supper!"
"Can I lead the stallion back to the barn? Please, Will? Please?" Byron asked.
"All right," Will said grudgingly. "You can lead him back. But be careful. Mind you don't choke up on
those reins too tight."
"Thanks!" Byron exclaimed, giving him a quick hug.
"You're welcome," Will replied with a soft smile.
"He rides like the wind, Ma," Will said excitedly as he poured some water into the basin on the table.
"Yeah, faster than the wind," Byron added.
She chuckled as she stooped beside their hearth and stirred the pot of stew. "Does he now?"
"You've never seen a finer horse!" Byron went on.
"Jumps logs, too," Will added. "Cleared a whole mess of logs just like that."
Byron reached for the knife and loaf of bread on the table.
"Byron Sully!" Katherine said, stopping him and grabbing his shirt tail. "Let me see your hands first,
young man."
Byron sighed and held them up morosely.
Katherine gasped. "Look at those fingernails. It looks like you've been digging in the dust! I want
you as presentable as if you were about to meet the queen when you sit at my supper table!"
"We don't got a queen in this country. That's your country," Byron said.
"Yeah, that's England, Ma," Will added wryly. "Sorry, you're in America now."
"Wash up, the both of you!" she retorted, slapping Will's chest playfully with her dishtowel. She
grabbed a stack of plates to dish up the stew.
He smiled and rolled up his sleeves, then grabbed the bar of lye soap. "Bet he could clear that
pasture fence easy."
"Yeah!" Byron added excitedly.
She gasped. "Don't you try, William. Don't you dare."
"But Ma, he was made for jumpin'. You see his hind legs?" He rubbed the soap down each of his
fingers vigorously.
"I see them. And I see you, too. You're not ready for that kind of jumping, do you understand? That
fence is far too high. You stay to jumping logs. William?"
He sighed. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured as he dried off with a towel.
" You never give me a chance, Will," Byron said, glancing up at his brother petulantly. "Ma said you
have to share."
Will was high atop his stallion, sitting tall in the saddle and trotting along the southern edge of the
property. He briefly glanced down at his brother.
" Don't you ever get bored of watchin' me ride? Don't you wanna go fishin' or somethin'?"
" Nope, don't want to. I wanna be with you," Byron said. He picked up a stick about half his size and
dragged it in the dirt.
" Tell you what. You keep a lookout for Ma. I'm gonna work on jumping the fence. Then I'll let you
have a turn."
Byron's mouth dropped. "Ma said you couldn't! It's too high!"
" You want a turn or don't you?"
Byron scowled. "Fine. I'll keep a lookout."
Will permitted a small smile. "You're all right for a little brother, ya know that?"
" Yeah, sure," Byron muttered, climbing up onto the fence and shielding his eyes from the sun.
Will galloped across the field, then slowed to a stop and turned the horse around. Byron looked
around the quiet field, then squinted at the cabin in the far distance. No sign of anyone, most
importantly their mother.
" All clear!" Byron shouted, raising one hand high.
Will gave the stallion a firm kick and he began galloping at full speed toward the fence. Byron
looked on, admiring the fine horse.
" Look at him go," he murmured.
Will neared the fence and urged the horse faster. But as the horse began to make a leap over the
fence, he suddenly became spooked, bucking halfway across the fence. William struggled to hang
on but couldn't, slipping down the horse's left side. His foot became caught in the stirrup and he
desperately tried to free it.
" Will!" Byron shouted.
Will falling spooked the stallion further, he whinnied fiercely and he suddenly took off in a gallop
along the fence. Byron jumped down from the fence in disbelief, face set in shock as Will yelled and
screeched, frantically trying to shake his foot free.
Will's struggling only made the stallion run faster, and within moments his struggling and yelling
stopped, and the horse dragged the child's lifeless body several hundred more yards along the fence
before his leg came free on its own.
Throat gone dry, Byron struggled to make a sound.
" Ma," he choked breathlessly. He took a deep breath, trying to find his voice. "Ma. Ma!"
He jogged toward the cabin as the stallion finally slowed down at the other end of the field. The
horse snorted and whinnied, bucking into the air a few times. Byron cupped his hands around his
mouth and with all his strength screamed for his mother. "Ma! Mama!"
Katherine appeared in the doorway, balancing a bowl on her hip.
" What are you carrying on about, child?" she called.
" Will!" he screamed back. "The stallion! He's dragged Will!"
Katherine dropped the bowl and gathered her skirts, opening the fence gate and running across the
field. Byron ran too, reaching his brother first. He stopped short a few yards away, too petrified to
go any farther.
Will's body was streaked with dirt and blood. His features were nearly unrecognizable, a massive
gash stretching from his scalp down across his face. Byron immediately knew he was dead.
" Will," he managed to choke out, shaking his head in disbelief.
" What's wrong? What's happened?" Katherine shouted, out of breath as she ran toward him.
Byron stood still in shock, remaining motionless as his mother brushed past him and took in the
horrifying sight of her oldest son.
A guttural scream came from deep within her chest. She fell to her knees beside his body. "Will! Oh,
Lord!" She gathered him in her arms and rocked him, blood soaking her blouse and skirts.
Byron shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry. I told him not to."
She looked up at him. "Byron! What happened? What happened?" she screamed.
" I don't know," he sobbed. "The fence. His foot got stuck. His foot. I don't know."
Katherine cupped his face in her hands. "Oh my God, Will. William. My baby boy. No. No!" She
looked up at the sky and let loose a series of primeval screams as only a mother could. "Lord God,
don't take my baby boy! God. Oh, God."
Frightened, Byron stepped back, bowing his head, his chest heaving as he cried.
Katherine wailed for half an hour over Will's body, stroking his hair and rocking him. Finally she
looked up at Byron, thoroughly drained.
"We have to get some help," she choked. "We must go to town."
Byron managed a nod. "The Reverend. He'll help us."
Katherine glanced up at the sky. A few buzzards had started to circle overhead. The smell of blood
and death was heavy in the air, and if they left Will there it was likely animals would find him within
minutes.
She stood. "Let's get him inside. Get his arm." She grabbed one of Will's arms.
"Ma," Byron protested softly.
"Byron, help me!" she said louder. "I'll not have those varmints come near your brother!"
Byron felt sick to his stomach and was petrified to touch the body, but he didn't know how he could
refuse to help. He gritted his teeth and grabbed Will's other arm. Will had been a maturing young
man and almost as tall as his mother. It was no easy feat to try to move him. They grunted and
heaved as they dragged his body across the field to the cabin.
Finally they got him inside and Katherine managed to hoist him onto her bed. She found a sheet
and covered him to his chest. Then she paused a moment, gazing at his mangled face. Byron
watched her fearfully. Her blouse and skirt was soaked with dirt and dark blood, her hair was
coming out of her braid in all directions, and her face was flushed and damp with tears. She always
had such grace and poise, her soft voice and English accent matching perfectly with her genteel
persona. Byron had never seen her lose control like this, and he was terribly frightened.
"Oh, my darling," she whispered tearfully. She kissed Will's cheek and smoothed his hair, then
covered his head with the sheet.
Byron swept the last bit of dirt out the front door with their broom and then closed the door, placing
the board across it to bolt it for the night. Katherine was lying in bed in her clothes, staring forward
blankly.
He walked to the shelf above her bed and selected a book of poems, holding it out to her.
"Maybe you could read to me," he suggested.
"Not tonight, all right, darling?" she whispered.
"All right," he whispered, putting the book back.
She patted his hand. "Your church clothes are clean, aren't they? I want you to wear a tie at the
ceremony tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am. They're clean."
"Oh, good."
He watched her for a moment. "Ma?"
"Yes?"
His lip trembled ever so slightly. "Mama, what's gonna happen to us?"
She looked into his big blue eyes. The truth was she was frightened. Petrified. Will had always taken
care of them as if he were the man of the house, despite his tender age. She depended on him to
help her work their small farm and take care of the family. And emotionally, he was her rock. She
loved both her sons deeply, but she and Will were as close as a mother and son could be. It was
Will who handed her handkerchiefs and wiped her tears when her husband left them. It was Will
who helped her keep the books and handle all their meager finances. Will too had helped her look
after Byron when she was feeling very overwhelmed by the responsibilities of two young sons. Even
though he had only been four years old at the time, Will seemed to understand how devastated she
was his father had taken off, and he stepped up and pitched in wherever he could. He had given
her hope that they would get through their troubles together. And it was Will who loved his mother
and brother so much he wanted desperately to go away to work on the docks so he could send
home every cent of his pay to help support them. He would have gone too, if only she had let him.
"We'll just, we'll take this one day at a time," Katherine said unsteadily. "Now, we must get some
sleep. Tomorrow we must bury your brother."
Tears welled in his eyes and he struggled to be brave. "Goodnight, Ma."
"Oh," she murmured emotively, holding out her arms.
He burst into quiet sobs and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Mama. I just wish he never got on that
horse."
"I know. I know," she said, rocking him.
"I shoulda stopped him," he cried. "I knew he was gonna jump that fence. I just shoulda stopped
him!"
"No, no." She caressed his face. "You listen to me. It was not your fault. You understand? Byron? It
was not your fault."
He sniffled. "Yes, ma'am."
"If anyone's to blame it's me. I bought him that horse," she whispered.
"No, Ma!" He shook his head. "No, it's not your fault either. It was just an accident. It was a real
bad accident," he said tearfully.
She held him close for a long moment and kissed his head.
"It was an accident," he whispered again.
She pulled back the covers. "Here, sleep with Mama tonight."
He nodded, immensely relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was go off to his own bed all by
himself, and have to look at Will's empty bed beside him all night.
She gathered him into her arms. "Mama still loves you, you know that don't you? I haven't forgotten
you."
He edged up and kissed her cheek, then cuddled up against her and fell into a much-needed sleep.
Katherine had a breakdown at Will's funeral. Just after the Reverend had given the benediction and
the small group of mourners began disbanding, she stepped toward the simple wooden coffin and
threw her arms around it desperately.
"You can't take my baby!" she cried over and over. "I won't let you put him down there!" Then she
started clawing at the coffin, trying to pry it open.
Byron watched in disbelief as first the Reverend, then a few of their friends tried to pull her away.
Katherine just grew more manic, screaming at them to bury her down there with him. Byron started
crying and finally someone found the town doctor and he came running over with his medical bag.
He poured some kind of liquid onto a cloth, held it over her nose and she fainted into his arms.
"There's a good girl," the doctor said, and two more men helped carry her to the doctor's little office
in town. Byron sat quietly outside on the bench for three hours until finally Katherine came out and
the Reverend's wife drove them home and stayed with them for five days. On the fifth day
Katherine started getting up and doing the chores and functioning more normally, and the
Reverend's wife deemed her fit enough to be left on her own to look after the farm, care for her
son, and go on with their lives.
"Supper tastes good," Byron remarked gently, slurping a small bite of stew.
Katherine glanced at her plate as if just noticing it. She dipped her spoon in but didn't eat.
Gradually, her eyes wandered to the rifle hanging above the mantel. Byron watched her with intense
concern.
" Could you read to me before bed?" Byron said, reaching his hand out and touching her arm. "Some
poems?"
She briefly looked at him. "Finish your supper."
" Yes, ma'am," he whispered obediently.
He ate the remainder of the meal in silence. When he had scraped the last bite of stew from his
plate and emptied his milk glass, he sat back.
He attempted a cheerful smile. "I'll clean up, Ma. I don't mind. I like to."
She barely nodded in acknowledgement, giving her full plate a small nudge in his direction.
Byron stacked their plates and carried them to the basin, placing them inside. As he turned back to
the table Katherine rose to her feet and strolled to the mantel. She looked up at the rifle for a long
moment. Byron froze, watching her worriedly. At last she reached up and lifted it down.
" Whatcha doing, Ma?" he spoke up, voice unsteady.
Katherine ran her hand down the smooth, shiny barrel, then clutched it to her chest and walked
slowly to the door.
" Ma?" Byron said more urgently. "Ma, what're you doing with the rifle? Ma!"
Katherine opened the door, ignoring him.
Suddenly, Byron rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. "Ma! Ma, what's the matter? Can't you
hear me? Ma!"
" Let go of me," she retorted, trying to shake him off.
Tears suddenly clouded his vision. "Ma! No, Ma!"
Angrily, she spun to face him and gripped his arm firmly. "Stay here and sit at the table. Is that
clear?"
Baffled, he looked up at her. "What're ya doing? What're ya gonna do with the rifle? You can't!"
" Sit there!" she shouted, pointing at the table. "Now!"
Chastened, he slowly backed up, tears flowing. "Don't do it, Ma," he choked. "Please. Please."
" Hush. Sit there," she said more gently. With that she walked out the door and shut it behind her.
Byron sunk into a chair, covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes tight shut. A
torturous minute passed until finally a single, thunderous gunshot broke the quiet night. Byron shook
with the sound, then began sobbing, too petrified to move.
A few moments later Katherine suddenly opened the door, without the rifle. Byron whipped his head
up, shocked to see her.
" Ma!"
Katherine broke down and rushed to him, gathering him in her arms and rocking him.
" Hush, Byron. Hush."
" You're all right!" he said in disbelief.
She kissed his head. "I shot the stallion."
He wiped his nose and hugged her tightly. "Oh."
" I had to shoot the stallion," she repeated in a whisper.
" Ma, we'll be all right. We're gonna be all right. I'll look after you now. I'll take care of you."
" Oh, child," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing his head against her shoulder.
Byron awoke at sunrise the next morning, letting out a little yawn. He gazed across the small room
of their cabin at his mother's bed. The covers were turned down and the sheets were wrinkled. He
got up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes. The fire had died in the hearth and the house was
strangely quiet. Katherine was nowhere to be found. Even after Will died, she still got up every
morning at the crack of dawn and made Byron breakfast, helped him comb his hair and took care of
him. It was strange she wasn't around.
"Ma?" he called hoarsely.
He got out of bed and found his trousers, stepping into them and pulling the suspenders over his
shoulders.
"Ma? Where are you?" he called again.
He walked across the room and opened the door, heading toward the barn.
"Ma, you in here?" he said, opening the door. The cow was stamping her foot, restless to be milked,
and the chickens were cackling loudly and bustling about ready to be fed.
He wrinkled his brow, heading out of the barn. He suddenly spotted a buggy driving down the little
road to their cabin. It wasn't often they received callers being this far from town, and especially not
at this time in the morning. Intrigued, he jogged back to the cabin to meet them. It was the
Reverend's buggy, he soon realized. The Reverend was driving and sitting next to him was a police
constable. The Reverend's wife was in the back. They pulled the buggy up to a stop in front of him.
"Reverend," he said, his brow wrinkling all the more. "Ma'am."
"Good morning, Byron," the Reverend's wife said kindly. Their faces were drawn and he could tell
that both the preacher and his wife had been crying.
"What's wrong?" the little boy demanded.
"Byron, this is Constable McGuire," the Reverend said. "We'd like to talk to you."
"Mornin', young man," the constable replied, his Irish accent thick.
"Come inside," the Reverend said, clutching his arm. "We'll sit at the table."
Byron gazed up at the adults skeptically. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He
felt it deep in his gut. "No. Just tell me. Tell me why you're here." He swallowed hard. "Where's my
ma? Do you know where she is? Where is she?"
"Let's sit inside, dear," the Reverend's wife said, grabbing his hand.
He snatched it away. "I said no!" he retorted.
The Reverend clutched his shoulder and removed his hat, slowly squatting to his level. "Boy, I'm
terribly sorry. Your mother….your mother's gone."
He looked up at him, blinking in disbelief. "Gone? What?"
"She's passed on, Byron," his wife said, clutching his other shoulder.
He shook his head, eyes welling with tears as they slipped down his cheeks. "No. No, you're lying."
"I wish we were," she replied. "Oh, you poor dear."
"How?" he shouted hoarsely. "How? She was just here! She read to me last night before bed!"
The Reverend looked at his wife helplessly. She was so overcome she couldn't speak anymore.
"She drowned, boy-o," the constable explained quietly. "In the Hudson. She be found by an ole
fisherman this mornin'."
"No, that couldn't be. Ma knows how to swim. She swims real good. She taught me." He kept
shaking his head. "No, where is she? Where is she?" He ran a few feet past them, looking around
the property desperately. "Ma! Mama!"
"I'm very sorry, Byron," the Reverend said, stepping toward him. "You must come with us now and
stay with my wife and me temporarily while we make arrangements for her burial."
He spun around, eyeing the three of them vehemently. "You're liars!" He turned around and bolted
across the property, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Byron!" the Reverend called.
"Let him alone, dear," his wife whispered, touching his arm. "Let's give him a moment to himself."
The constable nodded in agreement and the Reverend stepped back, allowing Byron to run off and
be by himself for a little awhile.
Byron raced all the way to the fence at the south end of the property. It was the fence that the
three of them had built together and helped maintain on the farm they had shared such joy and
good times on, where Katherine was single-handedly giving her two growing boys a loving, happy
childhood. That is until the day Will fell off his horse and everything changed.
"Mama, you can't do this," he sobbed, gasping for air as sweat and tears poured down his cheeks.
He kicked the fence post hard a few times. "You can't leave me all alone. No. No! Mama!" He fell to
his knees, wrapping his arms around them and rocking. "Don't do this, Mama. Please. Please." He
rested his head against the fencepost and wept there uncontrollably until the constable eventually
came out there to fetch him. He wrapped the exhausted child in a wool blanket and carried him
back to the buggy, placing him inside to go home with the Reverend.
The Reverend sat solemnly with his wife at the table in the firelight, both of them too distraught to
sleep. Katherine had been a loyal member of the little town church, bringing her two sons every
Sunday and tithing as much as she could manage. Over the years she had become close with both
of them, and her death was nothing short of shocking.
Byron pretended to be asleep on the little cot they had set up for him in the corner of the room, but
he too was far too upset to be able to settle down and get some much-needed rest.
"We'll have to bury her down by the old mill, in the pauper's graveyard," the Reverend spoke up at
last. He raised his coffee mug and took a small snip.
"John, no!" she protested.
"We have no choice, Melinda," he replied.
"But she was such a faithful member of the congregation, a good Christian woman. She should be
buried beside her son. I can't bear it to lay her to rest anywhere else."
"Don't you think that's what I want, too? But I'll lose my congregation if I allow it," he said, shaking
his head.
"Is that what you'll tell your maker when He calls you home?" she demanded.
"She killed herself," he retorted. "She simply cannot be buried in the church cemetery. I'm sorry."
She was quiet for a long moment, then folded her hands pensively. "What of the boy?"
"He's going to have to go to the orphanage. I'll write them in the morning."
"Oh, John. Couldn't we somehow….? He's such a precious little thing."
"Don't. We can't take him in. We have four of our own we can barely feed." He stood up abruptly
and put down his mug. "I'm going to bed."
"John, this isn't right," she whispered.
"I feel guilty enough. Please don't make it worse," he murmured as he walked off.
Byron stifled a sob and wiped at his tears. His mother was going to be buried beside thieves and
murderers, and shortly thereafter, he would be sent to the big city of New York to live the rest of his
childhood in an orphanage. He had never felt so frightened, so helpless, or so despondent in his life.
to be continued...
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Chapter Five
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Sully slowly looked up, eyes filled with pain. "It was suicide, Michaela. My ma couldn't go on without
Will. She killed herself."
Michaela got up from the rocking chair and walked to the bed, tears welling in her eyes.
"Oh, Sully," she whispered, reaching her hand up and rubbing his arm. "Oh."
He swallowed hard and a tear slipped down his cheek.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her chest, caressing his hair and kissing his
head. "I had no idea. I just had no idea."
He let her comfort him for a long moment. He had never been able to really grieve the loss of his
mother. He was immediately sent off to an orphanage and from there he ran away and worked on
the docks. Instead of facing the pain and heartache of what had happened, he tried to push it away
and not think about it. Ever since then when anyone asked about his mother or his growing up
years, he would brush them off and refuse to talk about it. He hadn't talked about it with Abigail,
and he had said little to Michaela up until today. He realized now that had been a mistake.
He clutched Michaela tighter and kissed the baby's head.
"I always told myself I was gonna do better by 'em if I had my own family someday," he whispered
unsteadily. "Just want our kids to be happy, have a good life. Want them to look back on their
childhood as happy times. Not as somethin' they wanna forget."
"You are. You're giving them a wonderful childhood." She kept stroking his hair. "You're a wonderful
father."
He clutched her hand and gave it an appreciative kiss, then pressed it to his cheek. "We should get
in bed. It's late."
She nodded and climbed under the covers. He handed her Eliza and helped her nestle the baby
against her breast, then he got in beside her and snuggled up close.
Sully watched the baby for a long moment, stroking her back. Her full, pink lips were parted slightly
as she slumbered contentedly. "She looks so peaceful when she sleeps," he whispered. "So
beautiful."
Michaela met his eyes, swallowing hard. "You don't want anything to do with William, do you?"
"Michaela, I know ya wanna see the good in folks. Ya just wanna help folks forgive the past and
move on. But I was ten years old and all on my own. If William was alive somewhere, you know
how badly I needed him right then? He coulda took me in, looked after me." He shook his head. "He
wasn't there. My brother died, he wasn't there. My mother died, he wasn't there. When I needed my
pa the most, he wasn't there."
"What happened to you, Sully? How did you survive it all by yourself?"
"Byron?" Georgie whispered in the moonlight. "Byron, what're ya doin'?"
"Nothin'," Byron whispered back as he meticulously packed his belongings into a pillowcase. He was
sitting on his cot in the large room where all the older boys slept at the orphanage. Aside from
Georgie, who was twelve and had been in the orphanage for two years because his parents were
destitute and couldn't take care of him, Byron had no friends there. He had spent seven days there,
and cried himself to sleep every night. He was tired of feeling cold and hungry and missing his
mother. It was time he take matters into his own hands.
"You ain't fixin' to run off, are ya?" Georgie asked. "Are you crazy?"
"I can't stay here, Georgie." He carefully placed his mother's book of poems inside the pillowcase.
"It ain't so bad, once ya get used to it. And who knows, maybe a family'll want ya. Take ya in."
"Nobody's gonna want me." He glanced up as a rat scurried across the back wall of the room and
disappeared behind a bureau.
"Where you think you're gonna go? What do you think you're gonna do, get a job? A little kid like
you?"
"I'm strong, and I can work hard. My brother said there's work along the Erie Canal. I'm gonna head
north along the Hudson until I come across it."
"Erie Canal? You realize that's all the way up near Troy? That's at least a hundred miles away,
maybe more!
"I'll manage."
He shook his head in disbelief. "You're really set on goin' through with this, ain't ya?"
"Yep."
Georgie reached under his pillow and came up with half a loaf of bread. "Here, take this. You're
gonna have to eat."
Byron nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Georgie."
"You be careful now. Don't let the boards creek on your way out. They'll whip you good they catch
you."
"You won't say anything, will you, Georgie?"
The older boy sighed. "No, I won't say anything. Now go on with ya. Get."
Byron found escaping from the orphanage one of the easiest things he ever had to do in his young
life. His brother had taught him how to walk softly in the woods to sneak up on prey with a
slingshot, and he simply tiptoed down the hallway, unlatched the front door and walked right
outside to the streets of Brooklyn without ever waking the orphanage director or any of the
headmasters. He wasn't all that worried he could be caught in the first place. He doubted if anyone
would ever really notice his absence anyway, let alone care that he was gone.
From there he headed down to the Hudson, and in the darkness climbed discreetly onto the back of
a freight barge ready to head north at daybreak. He road the barge all of the next two days
unnoticed until finally the captain came across him and dumped him off at the nearest port in Troy,
exactly where Byron wanted to end up.
Byron stood in line in front of a small table set up outside along the canal. A big, middle aged man
had several books open and was writing down the names of boys as they came forward.
"Next?" he shouted.
Byron stepped forward and put his pack at his feet.
"Name?" the man demanded.
"Byron Sully," he said timidly.
A group of boys standing off to the side suddenly snickered at him. He whipped around to face
them, giving them a fierce look.
"What're ya gonna do?" asked the tallest boy. He was handsome and tan, with a thick crop of sunbleached blond hair. "What're ya gonna do about it, huh, Byron?"
Byron scowled and crossed his arms.
"Spell it," the man instructed.
"B-y-r-o-n," he murmured. "S-u-l-l-y."
"How old are you?" the man asked.
Byron tried to stand as tall as he could and look a lot older than he was. "Twelve, sir."
"Twelve?" he repeated skeptically.
"Yes, sir," he said, trying to make his voice sound as big and strong as possible.
"Twelve!" the blond boy shouted, slapping his knee with laughter. "If you're twelve then I'm the
president of the United States!"
"I am! I am twelve!" Byron retorted desperately.
"Don't believe it, boss, don't believe it," the boy warned.
The boss just kept writing in his books. "Can you lead a mule down the docks, boy?"
Byron cleared his throat. "Do I have to ride it?"
"No, you just have to lead it."
"Yes, sir. I can lead it."
"Can you swim? Can't have my boys fallin' in and drownin' on me."
"Yes, sir. I swim real good."
"Good, you're hired then. It's a dollar a week, you'll share a room with the other boys. Be up at four
o'clock tomorrow." He handed him a bedroll. "Quarters are over there. Make yourself at home."
Byron took the bedroll and walked toward the little cabin nearby.
"Where ya goin', shorty?" the older boy shouted, walking up to him.
"No place," Byron retorted, walking right by him and heading inside the cabin.
"I'm Daniel," the boy said. "I run this cabin. All the boys come to me they got any problems, and I
sort it out."
"I don't need your help," he retorted, selected an empty bunk and throwing his roll up top.
Daniel threw his bedroll off the bunk. "Who says you get the top?"
Byron picked up his bedroll and put it on the lower bunk, unraveling it.
"What kind of name is Byron anyway?" Daniel asked with a laugh. "Byron, Byron. Sounds pretty
sissy to me."
"My name's not Byron," he said, sitting on his bunk. "It's….it's Sully. Yeah. Sully."
"Oh, well, sorry, Sully," Daniel said, shaking his head with amusement. "My mistake."
"Leave me alone," Byron said, lying down on his cot and hugging his blanket. "Just leave me alone."
"Where your folks?" Daniel asked curiously. "How come you're here all by yourself?"
Byron swallowed hard.
"Where are they?" Daniel said persistently.
"Passed on," Byron whispered, choking up.
Daniel's smile immediately fell and he suddenly felt guilty for giving the new-comer such a hard
time. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "Say, we all play cards every night by the fire. You can come
watch if you want."
"No thanks," he whispered.
"Suit yourself," Daniel replied, walking out of the cabin.
"Open the sluices!" Sully's boss shouted.
Sully scrambled to pull on the ropes that opened the sluice gates and let water drain into the lock.
"Hogees" was what everyone called the boys who worked along the canal, though Sully didn't know
why. He worked along lock numbers three, four and five in Waterford, leading the mules that pulled
the freight barges and passenger ships and opening and closing the locks so that the traffic could
make its way slowly uphill across the state. The entire process took about twenty minutes from
when a boat first approached the lock to when they sent it on its way. Daniel and the other big
boys would tow the boat into the lock with the mules and then untie the tow line. Then another boy
would close the downstream gate. Sully was in charge of the sluices that allowed water to flow in
and out of the lock. He would open them when his boss gave him the go ahead. Then they just had
to watch for almost fifteen long minutes as the lock filled with water and the boat rose. Then when
the water level reached the top they opened the upstream gates, retied the line to the boat and
towed it out.
It was hard work and long hours exposed to the elements, but Sully was good at it. He had a mind
for the mechanical aspects of the locks, which had impressed his boss. He understood perfectly how
it all worked, and had even suggested a few improvements to make the process go faster. His boss
liked him and treated him fairly, and Sully was proud of the money he earned each week for honest
work, and saved every cent in a small pouch under his mattress.
"Good job, Sully," his boss called.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
Daniel watched him irritably, where he was standing by the mule. He had always been the favorite
until Sully came along. Now his boss seemed to like Sully the best, and Daniel was fed up.
He walked over to him decisively.
"Hey, Byron. You pull the mule for awhile," Daniel ordered. "Come on, you never do."
Sully glanced at him and then turned his attention back to the lock, watching the water fill up.
"I said you pull the mule," Daniel said. "Are you deef?"
"I don't want to," Sully said firmly.
"You scared? You scared of a little ole mule?" He laughed and shook his head.
Sully glared at him. "I'm doin' the sluices."
Daniel pushed his shoulder. "Come on. Come on, Byron, you sissy." He pushed him again. "Byron.
Byron. Scared of a little ole mule, he is."
Sully suddenly whipped around, brow narrowed furiously, and raised his arms, growling and pushing
Daniel as hard as he could. Daniel was so thrown off guard he stumbled backward and fell straight
into the canal with a big splash. He came up sputtering out dirty water with the most comical look of
surprise on his face Sully had ever seen. The other boys laughed hysterically and his boss ran off to
find a rope to pull him out.
Sully glared down at him. "Don't call me a sissy. And don't call me Byron. It's Sully. You got it?"
Daniel blinked, mouth agape, as he treaded water. A newfound respect suddenly developed for the
younger boy. "Yeah, yeah, sure," he murmured.
"Good," Sully replied.
Daniel removed his stick from the fire and blew on the piece of venison on the end.
"Here ya go," he said, handing it to Sully.
Sully took the stick from him and blew on it again. "Thanks."
They were the last two boys left by the fire beneath the starry sky, the rest of the boys having
retired for the night. Ever since Sully had pushed Daniel into the canal, they had been best friends.
For three years they worked side by side on the docks. Daniel was older and taller, he was popular
and remarkably handsome, and his voice had deepened long ago, making him sound very grown
up. And the girls loved him. He had already kissed a girl and seemed to know everything there was
to know about them, and took pride in educating the younger boys in such matters. Sully on the
other hand was on the scrawny side, his ears stuck out, and he still had the high voice of a child.
He was getting impatient for it to change. It seemed he was the only worker there who still
sounded like a little boy. It occasionally cracked in a very embarrassing way, but that was all. Girls
had no interest in him, not that he was surprised. And to add insult to injury, he was shorter than
all the other boys. He was really nothing like Daniel. But for some reason the pair of them got along.
Daniel was a city boy from the booming capital of Albany who had made his own way after his
parents were killed in a wagon wreck. He helped to toughen Sully up, arm wrestling him and
showing him how to pull himself up on a big wooden bar the boys had set up in their cabin to make
his arm and back muscles strong. Sully in turn had taught Daniel things he learned growing up in
the rural countryside, like how to hunt, trap and track, and how to rely on the sun, the stars, and
other signs of nature to help guide you when you didn't have a compass or to tell you when bad
weather was coming.
"Daniel?" Sully asked, taking a bite of venison. "You gonna do this the rest of your life? Work the
docks?"
He chuckled. "Course not. I got plans. Big plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Well, someday when I'm old enough, saved up my money, I'm gonna head out West. Be a miner,
strike it rich."
"California?"
"No, not there."
"Not California? I hear tell everybody's findin' gold nuggets in this place called Sutter's Mill out by
San Frisco."
"No, see that's where I'm usin' my brains," he said, tapping his temple. "I figure while everybody
else is runnin' around on top of each other lookin' for gold dust like chickens with their heads cut
off, I'll be all my own. Say I'll go to maybe Utah, Nevada, Colorado. Bet you anything somebody's
gonna strike it rich there soon enough. May take me a little longer, but once I hit it I'll have it all to
myself."
"Oh, good thinkin'," Sully said in admiration. One thing Daniel was was clever. Sully thought that in
many ways, Daniel was a lot smarter than him. But Daniel couldn't read. His parents had never
made him go to school. Sully wasn't the best reader, but thanks to his mother insisting he get some
book learning, he could read better than most of the boys there. They always came to him when
they wanted to know what a sign said or what was in a newspaper they would find from time to
time. That's how they had found out about the gold rush, from Sully seeing it in an old newspaper
one day. Three of the boys had taken off right there and then for California.
"Problem is ya gotta be eighteen to stake a claim," Daniel said with a sigh. "Two years away."
"Oh." He thought a long moment, chewing pensively. "Maybe I'll go out West someday. I hear
there's not a lot of people out there."
Daniel eyed him curiously. "You don't like people, do you?"
Sully glanced at him. "Huh? I like people."
"Then how come you don't talk? You never talk to nobody except me."
"I don't got anything I want to say to them, that's all."
"You're crazy sometimes, Sully, you know that?"
"Yeah, well, you're tall."
Daniel laughed and threw another log on the fire. "You'll catch up. You'll see."
"Daniel? You think the two of us put our money together, we could run off out West together?
Strike it rich?"
Daniel stirred the fire with a stick. "That ain't a bad idea. After all, two heads are better than one."
"It's gonna be an even longer time before I'm eighteen."
"We could lie. You lied to get this job."
"I reckon that's true." He sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Daniel, you ever
miss your folks?"
"I don't know. Sometimes. But fact is there's nothin' I can do about it, so way I figure, I best find a
way to look after myself I wanna make it. Nobody else is gonna take care of me, that's for sure."
Sully nodded slowly and stuck his stick in the fire.
"I'm gonna turn in," Daniel said, standing up and brushing off his shirt. "Night, Sully."
"Night, Daniel," Sully murmured, hugging his knees and staring into the flames.
"About six months later, we come out West," Sully explained. "Worked the silver mines together for
awhile. Eventually we parted ways, he headed north to Nevada, and I ended up settlin' in Colorado.
And that's where I met Abigail and settled down."
Michaela grasped his hand and threaded her fingers with his. "I still don't know how you got
through all this, a boy as young as you were."
"Ya make do," he murmured. "Guess I just learned to live with things I couldn't change."
"Thank you for telling me this, Sully," she said. "For sharing this part of you with me. I understand
now why you never did before."
"Just hurts sometimes to bring it all up again," he admitted.
"I know. But sometimes we need to experience some of that hurt first to truly find healing. It's part
of the process."
He nodded and shifted forward, pressing his lips to hers. "We should get some sleep. G'night."
"Goodnight. I love you," she replied.
He pressed his forehead to hers. "Love ya, too."
Michaela awoke at dawn the next morning. She was as quiet as she could be while Sully slept and
she nursed Eliza, burped her, and changed her diaper, putting some more salve on the baby's diaper
rash. Then she tucked the baby beside Sully and walked to the basin, washed her face and got
dressed and ready for the day. Finally she picked up the baby again and sat in the rocking chair,
patiently waiting for Sully to rouse.
"Shouldn't of let me sleep so long," Sully murmured at last as he slowly opened his eyes and
regained his bearings.
"It's all right. You were tired," she replied. She gazed at him with a newfound love and respect. He
had been through such a tragic childhood, enduring such incredible loss and having to grow up so
fast. It had shaped the man he would become, the man she fell in love with. He had overcome it,
building a new life for himself and their family when most people would have given up, resigning
themselves to unhappiness.
"How's she doin' this mornin'?" he asked, slowly propping himself up in bed and gazing at their new
daughter.
She glanced down at the baby. "Fine. Her diaper rash looks a little better."
"That's good."
She looked back up. "Sully, what are we going to do about William?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he's here now, and it sounds to me like he wants to be in your life."
"Never said I wanted him in mine."
"So we're just going to shut the door on him? Never talk to him again?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Michaela, I haven't thought all this through."
She took a brave breath. "Sully, I think we should at least tell the children."
He immediately shook his head. "No. No, I don't wanna drag all of 'em into this, too."
"He's their grandfather."
"Only by blood."
"Regardless of how you feel about him, I think our children have a right to know they have a
grandfather. And to get to know him."
"I ain't sure they should get to know a man like that."
Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. "My father would have loved them. My sisters' children were his
pride and joy. I remember when Rebecca's first son Alexander was born, the tears in his eyes when
he announced to all of us he had a grandson. When he wasn't going on about medicine, it was his
grandchildren he was telling everyone about." The tears fell down her cheeks. "What I wouldn't give
for him to have known our children, to be part of their lives."
"Is this about your pa? Michaela, I'm sorry he's gone, that he never knew the kids. But fact is
there's nothin' we can do to replace him. If you want William around just 'cause you want the kids
to have a gran'pa...no, I don't want him around my family."
"What about what I want?" She shook her head. "Sully, please don't deny them this opportunity.
You don't have to welcome William with open arms. But don't deny the children the only chance
they're ever going to have to have a grandfather."
Sully felt that deep down Michaela only wanted William around because she missed her father. He
had confidence she would soon discover the man was nothing like Josef Quinn, and she would lose
interest in trying to foster any meaningful relationship with him. "All right," he murmured. "All right,
ya can tell the kids if that's what ya really think we should do. But I ain't gonna force this on them.
If they wanna see William, that's up to them. It's their decision."
"All right," she replied with a small nod. "We'll tell them tonight."
Byron peered around the side of the boarding house, surveying the area carefully. Then he motioned
for Red Eagle, Samantha and Katie.
"All clear," he whispered. "Come on!"
Katie held a bundle of colorful wildflowers behind her back. The children scurried inside the boarding
house and upstairs to Myra and Samantha's room. Samantha quickly found a glass and filled it with
some water from a pitcher.
"Put them in here," she instructed.
The girls arranged the flowers in the vase, then Samantha placed it carefully on the nightstand
beside her mother's bed.
"There," Red Eagle said. "Perfect."
Samantha beamed and squeezed Katie's hand.
"She'll know your pa loves her a lot, soon as she sees those flowers," Byron added with a big grin.
Michaela tenderly rocked the baby from side to side as she stood outside the Gazette with Dorothy.
"Well, most babies get it at some point," Dorothy remarked. "Tommy had an awful case of it when
he was about five months old. I was beside myself."
"What did you do?" Michaela asked, worriedly giving the baby's head a kiss.
"Just what you're doing. Lots of salve and changing his diaper a lot. Oh, and I used to let him,
well…air out. That was quite the sight when the town preacher came calling once, little Tommy
crawling all over the cabin without a stitch on!"
"I'm sure he'll love that you're telling me this," Michaela replied with a soft chuckle.
She smiled and rubbed the baby's belly. "Don't worry, Michaela. It'll be gone in no time."
Michaela held Eliza all the closer. "It's the least of my worries at the moment."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you met Myra's friend from St. Louis? William?"
"No I haven't yet. I heard she had somebody with her. He's gonna work for Horace, isn't he?"
"His name is William Sully."
"Oh, is he related to you?"
"He's Sully's father."
Dorothy pressed her hand to her heart. "What? Michaela, I thought Sully's parents were dead!"
"So did we. But William knows intimate details about Sully's past. He says the truth is he left for
work when Sully was an infant and never returned."
"Oh, my goodness. How remarkable. What does Sully think of all this?"
"He's shocked, upset. Angry. He feels that his father abandoned him when he needed him the
most."
"Oh, Michaela. What are you going to do?"
"We're not sure yet. He at least agrees the children should get to know him. We haven't told them
yet. We're going to talk to them tonight."
"Well, good luck."
"Dorothy, I'd appreciate it if you don't mention this in your Gazette. This is going to be difficult
enough for Sully without the entire town knowing about it."
"Oh, of course. I wouldn't dream of it."
"Thank you."
"Oh, why are the children at the boarding house?" Dorothy asked, shielding her eyes and looking
down the street.
Michaela turned and followed her gaze. The children were walking out onto the porch of the
boarding house, giggling and looking very pleased with themselves.
"They must have been playing inside. Samantha's staying there with Myra," Michaela explained.
"Sam and Katie have fast become best friends."
"Oh, that's sweet. Such a shame the two of them don't live here anymore."
"Yes, we all miss them," Michaela said. "We should head home. I'll see you later, Dorothy."
"Bye, Michaela."
Michaela stepped down from the porch and crossed the street toward the children. "What were you
playing in the boarding house?" she called.
"Nothing," Red Eagle blurted.
"I hope you weren't doing something you shouldn't," Michaela said skeptically. "You look a little
guilty to me."
"We were just playing, um…cowboys," Byron said, clearing his throat.
"Yeah, cowboys!" Samantha exclaimed.
"I see," she replied with a raise of her eyebrows. "Well, it's time we head home now. You have
homework to start."
"You have a good day?" Myra asked as she opened the boarding house door and held Samantha's
hand.
"Yeah. Real good," Samantha replied, glancing up at her.
"What did you play with Katie and Byron and Red Eagle?"
Samantha bit her lip and averted her eyes. "I don't know. Stuff."
"Oh. Stuff," Myra repeated with amusement. She unlocked the door to their room and lit a lamp
inside. "Oh, chilly in here."
Samantha hugged her shoulders as Myra quickly walked to the stove and lit a match, throwing it
inside.
"I have a good idea, Sam," Myra said. "What do you say we get in our nightclothes and we cozy up
in bed and read a book together? Would you like that?"
Samantha beamed. "Yes, Mama."
"Good. Go on," Myra instructed. Samantha hurried to her suitcase to find her night things and Myra
walked to her bed and pulled down the sheets, then found the long metal bed warmer leaning
beside the bed and placed it beside the stove, ready for some coals just as soon as they heated up.
She stopped short and gazed at the bouquet of flowers on the nightstand, noticing them for the first
time.
"Would you look at that," she breathed. "Where did those come from?"
"What?" Samantha asked innocently as she continued to sort through her suitcase.
Myra circled the bed and lightly touched her fingers to the petals. "These flowers. Do you know how
they got here?"
Samantha bit her lip. She hated to lie and she wasn't very good at it, but it was for a good cause.
"No, Mama. I don't."
"I wonder who they could be from," Myra murmured. "There's no note."
"Maybe from Papa," Samantha said quietly, clasping her hands behind her back.
Myra chuckled softly. "Oh, no. I don't think so. Your papa hasn't done something like this in ages."
"Oh," Samantha murmured with disappointment.
"Although…anything's possible," Myra admitted.
Samantha smiled again.
"Well, get your nightgown on," Myra said with a chuckle. "I want to cozy up with my sweetheart!"
Samantha beamed and hurried to change for bed.
Michaela dished up some more mashed potatoes onto Byron's plate and tucked his napkin securely
into his collar. Sully sat next to her, silently buttering a roll. He was never really a big talker at
supper. It was the children who did most of the chattering, with Michaela and Elizabeth responding
to them and encouraging them. But tonight he had been all the more quiet and brooding, quickly
eating his meal and not even looking at any of them. Michaela had Eliza tucked against her belly in
her sling, and the baby was dozing peacefully while the rest of the family ate their supper.
"Samantha says in St. Louis they have this big river and sometimes she and her mama take a
steamboat ride," Katie said enthusiastically, taking a gulp of milk.
"That's the Mississippi, dear," Elizabeth explained. "The longest river in America."
"I wish we could take a steamboat ride," Byron added. "Sam said the captain even let her pull the
whistle once!"
"They wouldn't let you pull the whistle," Red Eagle remarked. "You'd break it."
"I would not!" Byron protested. "Mama, I wouldn't break it!"
"You do break everything you touch, Byron," Katie remarked.
Michaela chuckled and pointed her fork at his plate. "Finish your vegetables. All of you. Those are
my special stewed carrots."
"Mama, can I ask you something about Samantha?" Katie spoke up.
Michaela cut into her chicken. "Of course."
Katie wrinkled her brow. "How come she and her ma don't live with her pa anymore? How come
they live so far away?"
Michaela cleared her throat and glanced at Sully for help, but he just looked away and didn't seem
to want to get involved in this particular conversation, or any conversation at the moment for that
matter.
"Katie, it's really not polite of us to inquire about matters like that," Elizabeth said, picking up her
napkin and dabbing at the corners of her mouth. "It's not our concern."
Katie rested her elbow on the table and sighed. "Seems like nothing's polite to talk about."
"It's all right to come to me with things that you're curious about, sweetheart," Michaela spoke up
reassuringly. "It's important that families are open with each other, can feel safe sharing things with
each other."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes discreetly and took a bit of her chicken. Michaela was certainly much more
forthright with her children than Elizabeth had ever been when she was raising her daughters. But
Michaela was their mother, and if she wanted to tell them everything then that was her prerogative,
and Elizabeth wasn't going to do anything more than let her know she disapproved.
Michaela rested her silverware across her plate. "I know you don't remember, but when you were a
baby, Samantha's ma and pa decided everyone would be happier if they got a divorce."
"What's a divorce?" Red Eagle asked.
"Sam told us. It's when the ma and the kids never see their pa ever again," Byron remarked.
"Well, unfortunately sometimes that's what happens," Michaela said, gently rubbing his back. "But
usually when a husband and wife decide their marriage isn't working out and they shouldn't live
together anymore, they make arrangements so that the children can see as much of both their
father and mother as possible."
Katie bent her head a little. "I feel sad about Samantha."
"Me, too," Red Eagle added.
"Yeah, me, too," Byron said.
"Well, you're right, divorce can be a very sad thing," Michaela said. "And I'm sure all of this has
been very hard on Samantha at times. But it's nice the three of you are so kind to her and have
made her feel at home even though she doesn't get to come out here too often."
"Maybe William could be like her pa in St. Louis," Byron suggested. "Or a gran'pa. Then she won't
miss her pa here so much."
Michaela glanced at Sully. She could see his jaw clench and his muscles tense at the mere mention
of the old man's name.
"Speaking of which, what do you think of him?" Michaela gently probed.
"William?" Katie said. "I don't know. He's nice."
"I like his voice. He talks funny," Byron said with a giggle.
"He's from England, that's why he talks like that," Red Eagle told him.
"I know that, silly," Byron protested.
Michaela casually cut a piece of chicken. "What would you think about inviting him over for supper
sometime? Or to a baseball game?"
"Oh, does he like baseball?" Byron replied. "Wonder if they have that where he's from."
"Well, I thought it just might be nice to get to know him a little better. To make him feel at home,
too."
Sully abruptly stood up and cleared his plate and coffee cup, heading to the kitchen.
Michaela watched him go, then took a deep breath. The children needed to know what was going
on, and all this hedging around was only delaying it. "Children, I need to tell you something
important. Can you listen carefully to Mama?"
Katie laid down her utensils. "What?"
"I recently found out William has the same last name as us," Michaela explained unsteadily. "His
name is William Sully."
"But your last name isn't Sully, Mama," Red Eagle pointed out. "It's Quinn."
Michaela glanced at him a moment. The children didn't seem to understand what she was trying to
tell them.
"Sweethearts, William's related to us," she went on. "He's your papa's father. He's your
grandfather."
to be continued...
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"William's our gran'pa?" Katie whispered. "Papa, Mama said your ma and pa died when you were
little."
Red Eagle ate another bite of mashed potatoes disinterestedly and Byron just looked confused. Sully
quietly reentering the room, head lowered.
"Far as I know they did, Kates," Sully whispered, caressing her hair.
"Then who's this man? Did he come back from the dead?"
Byron's face paled. "Is he a ghost?"
"Of course not. There's no such thing as ghosts," Elizabeth admonished.
"He's got a different version of what happened," Sully explained. "He claims he took off to look for
work, didn't come back until after I moved away."
"Then, he is our gran'pa," Katie replied.
"Oh, we got a gran'pa now?" Byron asked. "I always wanted one. It sounds fun."
"I always wished Mr. Bray could be our gran'pa," Red Eagle whispered.
Elizabeth smiled softly and took hold of his hand. "He can still be like a grandfather to you.
Nothing's going to change."
"Oh. Good," Red Eagle replied.
Michaela was surprised but pleased at how calmly the children were taking all of this. She supposed
they didn't really understand the implications of it all. After all, Sully had never really shared with
them all the tragedies of his childhood, and they had little idea what this all meant for him. They
simply knew that Sully's parents as well as Michaela's father had passed away long before they were
ever born, and that Elizabeth was their only grandparent still living. They never asked questions
about his past, and Sully didn't offer up anything. It was all still very painful for him, and the only
way he knew how to cope was to put it out of his mind.
"Well, we still need to talk to William a lot more about everything. There's a lot we don't know yet,"
Michaela said. "But for now, I'd like us to give him a chance. I'd like us to welcome him into our
home just like you welcomed Samantha. Can we do that?"
"Yes, Mama," Katie said.
The boys nodded agreeably.
"Can I have some pie?" Byron spoke up, quickly ready to move on to something else.
Michaela smiled and reached for the pecan pie. "Let's all have some."
Sully put his shirt away silently and then joined Michaela in bed. The baby was fussing a bit and
whimpering as Michaela lay on her side and offered her the breast. "What is it, sweet girl?" Sully
whispered, stroking her head. "Your diaper rash hurt?"
The baby parted her lips slightly, barely attaching herself to the breast and suckling hard. Michaela
grimaced in pain.
"No, sweetheart, you can't latch on like that. You're hurting Mama," she protested. She tickled the
baby's cheek vigorously. "Come on, open up your mouth. Open your mouth. Sully."
"Here, why don't ya sit up?" Sully said, grasping Michaela's arm and helping her sit up. Then he laid
Eliza in her arms. "There ya go, Eliza. Time to eat."
The change in position irritated the baby further and she fussed and lost all interest in nursing. She
cried and wiggled her legs, and Michaela laid her over her shoulder and rubbed her back.
"Sully, she has to nurse before we go to sleep. She hasn't nursed since suppertime."
"Guess she just don't want to. Shh. It's all right, Eliza. It's all right." He rubbed her back soothingly
and finally the baby calmed down a little. Michaela however just looked all the more distraught.
"Michaela, she won't starve," he said. "It's one feeding."
"I have to keep her on a schedule."
"She's fine. Let's just wait a few minutes, give her a break," he said sensibly. "Then ya can try
again."
She reluctantly nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Sully gave her head a soothing
kiss and then rubbed her thigh.
"I think it went well," she murmured. "I mean, telling the children about William. They didn't seem
upset."
He nodded slightly. "Yeah."
"Would you tell them about your past if they asked?"
"I don't know."
"They're your family, too, Sully. You may not realize it but they could support you in this, too."
"Just don't think they should know she killed herself," he whispered. "Don't want 'em to be
burdened with that."
"No, we don't need to tell them about that. At least not until they're much older. But I think they'd
like to know how wonderful their grandmother was. How brave she was coming to this country and
raising you and your brother by herself. And how brave you were to be on your own at such a
young age."
He turned his attention to the baby, clearly not interested in discussing it any more. "Let's see if
she'll eat now. Come on, sweet girl."
Michaela buttered some toast and cut it in half, then placed the slices on a plate. She put the plate
on the breakfast table where Elizabeth, Brian and the children were dressed for church and finishing
the last of the ham, eggs and pancakes.
"When will Eliza be able to eat stuff we eat, Mama?" Red Eagle asked. "I want her to taste some
syrup."
Michaela sat at the head of the table with the baby. "Not for awhile. At least several more months."
"It takes forever for babies to grow," Byron said impatiently. "When can I teach her baseball? We
need a good catcher."
"She'll be catching baseballs sooner than you think. I promise."
Sully opened the front door and walked toward the table. He was still in an old work shirt and
muddy boots.
"You'd better hurry. There's some eggs on the stove for you," Michaela said.
"Wagon's hitched and ready to go." He glanced at the baby, stopping short. "What is that?"
"What's what?" Michaela asked, following his gaze. Eliza was dressed in a frilly white gown and
wore matching booties and a bonnet with silk laces.
He raised his eyebrows, taking a seat. "What's the baby wearin'?"
"It's her church clothes," Elizabeth explained. "It's a gown I ordered for her ages ago. What's the
problem?"
"It's, uh, lacy." He glanced at Brian with a raise of his eyebrows. Byron giggled and shared a
disapproving glance with Red Eagle.
"What? You don't like it?" Michaela asked in surprise. "I think it's beautiful."
He cleared his throat. "She looks like a Boston baby, that's for sure," he said tactfully as he dished
up some ham onto his plate.
"Good," Elizabeth replied. "That's the idea."
"She's pretty," Katie remarked, touching her little sister's hand. "I like dressing her in pretty things."
Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, that's the only advantage of having all girls. I certainly had my share of fun
dressing them up."
Sully took a sip of coffee, glancing at Michaela. "Ya think ya could pack me a sandwich? I'm gonna
be out in the north field most of the day."
"North field? What about church?"
"I got things that need to be done around here before I start workin' for Horace tomorrow. I'm real
behind."
"Can I stay home from church, too? I want to help Papa," Red Eagle said. He reached up to pull off
his tie.
"If Red Eagle gets to stay I can stay, too," Byron added.
"No, Red Eagle's coming with us. Both of you are," Michaela said. "Keep your ties on."
"Aww," Red Eagle muttered.
"Now help clean up," Michaela instructed. "Clear everyone's plates."
The children got up and started clearing the table.
She looked at Sully and lowered her voice. "I know what you're doing. Sully, you can't avoid him
forever."
"Look, if you want the kids to get to know him I ain't gonna stop ya. But I don't wanna be
involved," he whispered back.
"Sully-"
He abruptly got up. "I'm gonna finish the chores. I'll see ya later, all right? Have a good picnic after
church."
"Bye, Papa," Katie called. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too," Michaela added plaintively.
Byron raced up to Samantha as the congregation disbanded down the church steps, Red Eagle and
Katie behind him.
"Well, did it work? The flowers," Byron said.
"I don't know. Not really," Samantha replied. She eyed her parents in the meadow. Horace was
talking to Jake, while Myra was several yards away chuckling over something with Dorothy. They
hadn't even sat together in church. Myra sat with Dorothy and Horace sat in the back with
Samantha. "I don't think so. They're still not in love."
Katie sighed. "This is harder than I thought."
"Maybe we could talk to our ma and pa. They love each other. They been married since before we
were born! They must know a lot about how it all works," Red Eagle said.
"We can't tell them our secret," Byron said resolutely.
"We don't have to tell them," he replied. "We'll just ask about love."
"Yeah," Katie said. "I'll ask my mama. She'll know."
"And we'll ask our pa," Byron said.
Samantha brightened a little. "I hope that helps."
Byron motioned with his hand. "Come on, let's go play before lunch."
William and Myra helped Michaela spread the blanket out on the grass. Then Michaela placed her
picnic basket on it and she and Myra began unpacking it. Elizabeth was holding the baby in her
wheelchair nearby.
"Children," Michaela called. "Time to eat."
Byron, Katie, Red Eagle and Samantha ceased chasing around in the meadow and joined them.
"Good morning, children," William said shyly. "It's good to see you."
Katie took his hand. "Mama says you're our gran'pa."
He looked down at her emotively. "Yes, wee one. It looks like it."
She gave him a gentle hug and Byron followed suit. Michaela smiled softly at their affection.
"I've always wanted grandchildren," he whispered, crouching down and holding them close.
"Good, now ya have 'em," Byron said.
Red Eagle looked away and took a seat on the corner of the blanket, picking up a plate.
"Will you play with us after lunch?" Byron asked.
He smoothed his hair. "Yes, yes of course I will."
"Goodie. Can we call you Gran'pa?"
He nodded, all the more emotional. "Yes, I suppose you should."
"Good. Thanks, Gran'pa."
Michaela handed William a plate and a roll of silverware. "Here you are," she said, smiling at him
softly.
"Thank you," he replied, his eyes welling with tears.
"I just can't believe he's his father," Myra remarked, pressing her hand to her heart. "After all these
years?"
"I know, I'm still quite in shock myself," Michaela admitted. They were sitting together on the picnic
blanket, the baby in Michaela's lap.
Loren and Elizabeth were walking nearby and William and Horace were playing horseshoes with
Samantha, Katie, Byron and Red Eagle in the meadow.
"I'm guessing Sully didn't take the news that well," Myra said.
"He's livid about all this, Myra," she said, shaking her head. "He wants nothing to do with him."
"He won't even talk to him?"
"I've tried. He at least agreed to allow the children to know about all this, to spend time with him. I
suppose I should be happy about that."
"Maybe he'll warm up," Myra suggested. "After he gets used to things."
"I hope so," Michaela replied. The baby began fussing and wiggling around. Michaela adjusted her
bonnet and lifted her up to kiss her. "Oh, what is it? What's the matter?"
Byron raced over to the blanket, holding William's hand and dragging him along. "Mama, did you
see that? Did you see? I got one!"
"Oh, did you?" she replied. "Good!"
"Gran'pa taught me how to throw it. You're supposed to take a real big swing, pull your arm back all
the way like this." He threw his arm behind him and tossed an imaginary horseshoe.
"He's got a real knack for it, this one does," William said, caressing his head.
Michaela smiled at him. "Thank you for teaching him, William."
"My pleasure."
Michaela glanced at Byron. "Sweetheart, could you tell everyone it's time to go? Your sister's getting
fussy."
"Again!" Byron grumbled. "Come on, Mama."
"Byron, please, just do what I ask."
"She always ruins everything," he muttered, spinning around and trudging back to the horseshoe
posts.
"Byron, that's not nice," Michaela called fleetingly.
"Is the wee one all right?" William asked, peering down at her.
Michaela rocked the baby worriedly. "I don't know. I think she's getting too much sun. I just want to
take her home."
"Maybe she just needs a feeding," Myra said. "Why don't you head over to the clinic? I'll stay here
with everybody."
"No, I really think we should go home," Michaela said insistently. "I'm sorry to cut things short but I
think it's best I take her home."
"I'll get the children," William offered. He paused, removing his hat. "Michaela? Thank you."
She smiled up at him softly. "You're welcome, William. We look forward to seeing you again."
"You're back early," Sully remarked as he worked at prying off a rotting fence board with the back of
his hammer.
Michaela walked toward him and rested her hands on the other side of the fence. "The baby was
fussy. I thought we should go home."
"She all right?"
"I think it's partly her diaper rash. I hated to spoil the children's fun but I just didn't want her in that
sun any longer. She's napping now inside."
"How was your picnic?"
"It went very well. William taught the children horseshoes."
He pried off the rest of the board and tossed it aside.
She gazed at him hopefully. "Do you think perhaps you could come back to the house now, spend
some time with us? Your new job starts tomorrow and you're going to be very busy for awhile. We
might not see very much of you."
"About that job. I'm thinkin' maybe it's a good idea I turn it down."
Her mouth dropped open. "Turn it down? But you've already committed to Horace. He's made you
foreman."
"I know that. I just think it ain't such a good idea me workin' for the railroad after all."
"Is this really about the railroad? Or is it about William?"
He sighed and dropped his hammer in his toolbox. "I'm sorry, Michaela. Just don't think I can go in
there every day and face him."
"Sully, you're two hard-working men who are going to do a very good job on this project. I don't
see why you can't do this for Horace together."
He climbed over the fence to her side and pulled off his work gloves.
"Besides," she went on. "It might be a good opportunity to get to know him."
"I told ya. I don't want to get to know him," he said impatiently.
"Sully, I know the prospect of working with him every day is a little overwhelming. But I think you
should at least try it before jumping to any conclusions. If you truly find you just can't work with
him, then you could step down."
He sighed. "Reckon we do need the money."
She gently rubbed his arm. "It'll help."
"Guess I don't got a choice here. I need to work. I need this job."
She stepped forward and drew him into a tight hug. "It's going to be all right. We'll sort all this out.
It's going to be fine."
He slowly rocked her, pressing her head against his shoulder and closing his eyes.
Elizabeth lifted Eliza out of the tub on the kitchen table and Michaela quickly wrapped her in a warm
towel.
"Oh, you're so fresh and clean," Michaela murmured lovingly, touching the baby's nose.
"I can help put her diaper on, Mama," Katie said.
"Oh, thank you, sweetheart. But I think I'm going to let her air out for a little while. Miss Dorothy
said that helped when her babies got diaper rash."
"No diaper? But what if she goes? She might go on you, Mama!" Byron said. He and Red Eagle were
playing a game of chess at the other end of the table.
Michaela smiled and unfolded a cloth on the table. "We'll put her on this. Just in case."
"Oh, good," he replied as he moved his rook backward.
Elizabeth laid the baby on the cloth and Michaela pressed her finger to the baby's chin. "I think
that's Sully's chin, Mother. Do you see that? And her grandfather's."
"I still say she's all you," Elizabeth replied as she folded the towel. "They all look like you."
"Nope. I look like Papa," Byron announced proudly.
Michaela chuckled. "Yes, you do."
"Mama, we were wondering," Katie spoke up as she grasped the baby's hand. "How does it work?
When you fall in love?"
She eyed the little girl curiously. "What do you mean?"
"Well, do you have to just buy gifts when you want somebody to love you? Or something else?"
"Oh. Well, that helps. Your papa gave me little gifts when we were courting."
"Like what?" Red Eagle asked.
"Well, like flowers. Or a turkey for supper."
"A turkey? How positively romantic," Elizabeth remarked dryly.
"What else did he do?" Katie asked.
"Nothing else," Elizabeth spoke up resolutely.
Michaela cleared her throat. "Well, we took walks, we spent time together. We got to know each
other better."
"But not too much. You don't want to know the other person too much," Elizabeth added. "Not until
you're properly married."
"What your grandmother means is that courting, that's just the first step," Michaela added.
"First step?" Byron echoed. "What's the second step?"
"There is no second step," Elizabeth said. "There's just one step."
"It's rather like baseball. First you go to first base and that's courting," Michaela explained
awkwardly.
"Oh. What's second base then?" Byron persisted.
"Second base? Well, second base is, well, it's-"
"Marriage," Elizabeth cut in.
"Baseball?" Red Eagle echoed, hopelessly confused.
Katie wrinkled her brow. "We already know about baseball. We just want to know how do you stay
in love?"
"Oh. Well, you have to give each other lots of room," Elizabeth spoke up. "That's how I managed to
stay married to your grandfather for forty-five years."
"What do you mean, room?" Red Eagle asked.
"Why are you wondering so much about this anyway?" Michaela asked.
"You said we could ask anything, Mama," Katie replied.
"See, it's all your fault, dear," Elizabeth said.
"So I did say that," Michaela murmured. "Well, let's see. The secret to a good marriage. Well,
you….you have to keep the mystery."
"Mystery?" Byron blurted.
Her cheeks warmed. "Yes, you….you have to keep him happy."
"How do you do that?" Katie asked.
"Why don't you ask your father about this? I'm sure he can answer your questions," she blurted.
She picked up the baby and headed upstairs.
Byron looked at his sister, heaving a disappointed sigh. "That didn't really help."
"Go ask Papa. Come on, I asked Mama," Katie replied.
Byron slid down from his chair. "Come on, Red Eagle. Let's ask Papa. He'll tell us. And he won't be
so confusing."
"Yeah, let's go," he said, following him to the door.
Red Eagle pushed open the barn door and walked inside, Byron following him.
"Papa," Byron called.
"Right here," Sully said. He was pouring some fresh water into a bucket in Flash's stall. "Gettin' late.
Ya best head to bed pretty soon."
"Can you tuck us in?" Red Eagle asked. "Tell us a story?"
"A Cheyenne story," Byron added.
"Yeah sure, in a minute all right?"
Byron walked over and clutched a post, looking up at Sully curiously.
Sully eyed him a moment. "Somethin' I can do for ya?" he asked with amusement.
"Papa, can we ask you something? It's about love."
"Love? What about it?"
"Well, how does it happen? What did Mama do so you would love her?"
He smiled softly. "She didn't do anything." He grabbed a rake and began spreading out some fresh
hay.
Red Eagle walked over. "What do you mean? She musta done something!"
"Nope. She just fell down in the mud. That's all."
Red Eagle and Byron shared skeptical glances.
"You mean if you want somebody to love you, you gotta fall down in the mud?" Byron demanded.
Sully chuckled. "No. I just mean it's somethin' that just happens. Not much ya can do to help it
along."
"Well, what if you wanted to help it along?" Red Eagle asked.
Sully eyed them a long moment. "There some pretty girl at school you got your eye on? That
McGuire girl's kinda pretty."
"Ew! No, not us!" Byron exclaimed.
"No, Papa. It's just a secret," Red Eagle said.
"Papa?" Byron whispered. "Sometimes people stop lovin' each other. Right?"
He kept raking. "Sometimes."
"But not you and Mama," Red Eagle added.
"Nope."
"Well, then what does Mama do to make you stay in love?" Byron demanded.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, why don't ya ask her that?"
"We tried. She won't say," Byron said.
He smiled to himself. "Ya just gotta keep on lettin' her know ya care. That's all. What's this about,
this secret of yours?"
"Nothing," Red Eagle said quickly.
He chuckled and put the rake aside, putting his arms around them. "Come on. Time for bed."
"Papa, you ever play horseshoes?" Byron asked.
"Yeah. I played that a lot as a boy."
"How come ya never taught me?"
"I don't know. Never thought of it. I can play with ya if that's what ya want."
"Can we invite Gran'pa over to play, too? He's really good. He taught us."
Sully gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll see, all right? Now let's head to bed."
Sully opened the bedroom door. Michaela was nearly asleep, the baby tucked beside her.
"Byron can't stop talkin' about William and those horseshoes," Sully said quietly.
Michaela watched him curiously as he took off his boots. "Are you all right with that?"
"I guess. Byron likes everybody. Wouldn't expect him to feel any different about William."
"I wish you could have been there," she said plaintively. "I invited him for supper tomorrow after
work. I was hoping you'll be willing to join us for that."
"I don't know. We'll see."
"Sully, the children are going to start noticing you're never around when he is."
"So let 'em notice."
She sighed as he took off his shirt and shifted back against the pillows, glancing at the baby. "Come
here, Eliza. Ya wanna sleep in your crib tonight?"
Before Michaela could protest Sully lifted the baby from the covers and tucked her carefully in her
crib near the fireplace. "Night-night. Night, sweet girl."
"Wait, I haven't nursed her yet," Michaela said fleetingly.
He returned to the bed. "You can nurse her when she wakes up." He leaned over her and gave her
face a few soft kisses.
"She needs another blanket. She's going to freeze in there," Michaela said.
"She's fine. She's right near the fire. Michaela, don't worry about her."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm trying."
"Try harder," he said wryly. He grasped her arm and kissed the back of her hand, her forearm and
then her shoulder. Then he got in bed and gathered her into his arms, kissing her lips.
"Sully," she murmured, pulling back uncomfortably. "I don't think we should just yet." He kept
kissing her neck disinterestedly. "Sully, no."
"That's all right. We don't gotta make love you ain't ready yet," he whispered. "I just thought maybe
we could kiss a little, hold each other. How's that sound?"
She looked very distraught, but she managed a little nod.
"What's wrong? I thought ya liked to just kiss and hold," he said teasingly.
"You can never just kiss and hold," she murmured. "It always leads to something else."
"I won't let it lead to anything, I promise," he said with a wry grin.
Michaela just looked more upset, and he caressed her cheek.
"Michaela, what is it?"
She glanced at the crib and tried to keep herself together. "Nothing. I'm fine."
He smiled with relief and resumed his kissing and caressing.
"Sully, couldn't we…" Michaela began, pulling back again. "Couldn't we just put the baby back in
bed with us? I want her next to me when she wants to nurse."
He suddenly looked a little impatient. "Michaela, we ain't had a moment to ourselves since she was
born."
"We can still spend some time with each other," she said fleetingly. "I just want her back in the
bed."
It suddenly dawned on him. "You don't wanna leave her in that crib, do ya?"
"It has nothing to do with that," she quickly admonished, getting out of bed and lifting Eliza out of
the crib.
"What do ya plan to do? She gonna sleep with us forever?"
"Of course not," she said, getting back in bed and tucking the baby beside her. "Just until she's not
nursing at all hours of the night."
"We gotta be careful. She sleeps with us enough she'll never wanna sleep in her crib by herself."
She grasped his shoulder and shifted up, tenderly kissing his cheek and then his lips. "See, we can
still do this," she said hopefully.
Sully responded halfheartedly, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. Finally he pulled back. "Michaela,
you know how much I love her. But it's hard for me to think about bein' with ya with the baby right
here between us. I think she should go in her crib so we can have a little time to ourselves at some
point."
She looked down guilty. "All right, I'll put her in there," she said softly. "But not tonight. Give me
just a little longer with her. A few more days."
"All right," he replied, giving her forehead a loving kiss.
Sully cradled Eliza against his chest as he and Michaela crossed the railroad tracks in front of the
steaming morning train. Passengers were disembarking and luggage was everywhere.
"Be good for your ma," Sully told the baby lovingly. "Papa's gotta work all day today, all right?" He
kissed her forehead. "I'll miss ya."
"We'll miss you, too," Michaela murmured. "Have a good first day."
"Big shipment just come in for you, Dr. Mike," Horace called as he sorted through a large pile of
boxes stacked on the platform.
"Oh, good. I've been waiting for that," Michaela replied. She crouched down and picked up one of
the boxes, then suddenly stumbled and quickly put it back down.
Sully immediately grabbed her arm. "Michaela, you all right? Too heavy?"
"No, I just, I…I was….I was dizzy," she admitted.
"Sit down," he said firmly.
"No, no, I'm all right now," she said dismissively. She smiled wryly. "Perhaps I'm not ready for lifting
boxes yet."
"Yeah, sounds like it," he replied, rubbing her arm. "I'll carry the shipment over. You take the baby."
He handed Eliza over to her and picked up one of the largest boxes.
"What about work?" she asked.
"Only take a minute," he replied. "Horace, I'll be right back."
"Sure thing, Sully," he replied. "Take your time."
"Want ya to take it easy," Sully remarked quietly as they headed toward the clinic. "Don't do too
much your first week back."
"You have no idea how behind I am," she replied with a sigh.
"So you're gonna be behind for awhile. You'll catch up eventually."
"I suppose that's nothing new," she admitted. "I've been behind since I was pregnant with her."
He smiled and paused to look at her pointedly. "No liftin' boxes, ya promise? Ask for help."
"No lifting boxes. I promise," she replied with a smile.
"And no overdoin' it," he added, giving her a soft kiss.
Sully unrolled the blueprints across Horace's desk and secured them with some vials of ink.
"Twelve by fourteen," Kirk said as he stood beside him next to two other workers. "That's a good
size."
"We'll lay the foundation these first couple days," Sully explained. "We should get to raisin' the walls
by next week."
William appeared in the doorway carrying a toolbox and a lunch satchel. "I'm not late am I?"
Sully glanced at him briefly.
Kirk approached him with a friendly smile. "No you ain't late. You must be William. Kirk Davis."
"Mr. Davis," he said, shaking his hand.
"Just Kirk. Pleased to know ya. And to have ya on the team."
William introduced himself to the other workers as Sully rolled up the blueprints.
"Let's get to work," Sully said.
"Sully, could I talk to you a moment first?" William asked.
"We best get started," Sully said, heading for the door.
"Day's just startin', Sully," Kirk said, picking up a hammer off the desk. "We'll give you two a couple
minutes."
Sully eyed Kirk impatiently as the young man quickly walked outside followed by the other workers
and shut the door.
William cleared his throat. "Sully, I just want you to know that if you don't want me to work here
then that's all right. I'll tell Mr. Bing I can't do it."
Sully tucked the blueprints under his arm. "I ain't gonna stop any man who needs a job from
workin'. Provided they work hard."
William dug into his pocket and pulled out a thick letter-sized envelope. "This is for you."
"What is it?" Sully asked skeptically.
"Please open it. Read it."
"I don't got time for this," Sully said, impatiently tucking the blueprints under his other arm. "We got
work to do."
"Please, Sully. I was up all night writing it. It's, well, an explanation. My reasons for leaving when
you were younger. It explains everything. It's just, my way of apologizing for the kind of father I
was."
Sully swallowed hard. "Look, you may be my pa by blood, but I don't see ya as my father and I
never will. I don't want your explanations, your apologies."
"Sully-"
"There's nothin' you can ever say to make up for what happened," Sully said firmly. "Now let's get
to work." He walked briskly outside.
William sighed and gazed at the envelope. Then he found Sully's toolbox resting on the counter. He
tucked the envelope deep inside and followed Sully outside.
To be continued…
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Chapter Seven
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Byron pressed his nose to the glass and peered inside at Loren's display of cameos. "There it is.
That's the one. It's just like Mama's."
"Oh, my mama would like that," Samantha said.
"Pretty," Katie added.
"Mr. Bray!" Byron called. "Mr. Bray!"
"What is it?" the old storekeeper demanded as he crossed the room carrying a crate of canned
goods.
"Can we see that one, Mr. Bray?" Byron asked. "Please?"
"What one? The cameo? What do you want with a cameo?" he asked, putting the crate down.
"Well, see it's for-" Katie began.
Red Eagle gave her a nudge. "Nothing. It's a surprise!"
Katie covered her mouth.
"A surprise, huh," Loren said skeptically, opening the display case and pulling out the exhibit. "Here
it is. Just try not to touch it and get it dirty."
"How much is it? The small one?" Byron asked.
"Five dollars."
"Five dollars!" he exclaimed. "We'll never have that much money!"
"Well, five dollars is the price and it's not goin' down anytime soon. Go on with you now. I'm pretty
busy today."
"Thanks, Mr. Bray," Red Eagle muttered as the children trudged outside.
"Five dollars!" Samantha breathed, resting against a post. "How we ever going to buy that?" She
sniffled. "This is never gonna work. My mama and papa are never gonna love each other again."
"Don't worry," Katie said. "We'll find a way."
"I guess we'll have to start with chores and save every penny," Red Eagle said. "Let's go ask Mama
if she has any chores for us."
"Come on, Sam," Katie said encouragingly, taking her hand. "We'll talk to my mama. She'll help."
The children headed over to the clinic and rang the bell.
"Come in," Michaela called.
The children trooped inside on a mission. Michaela looked up from a medical chart at her desk. The
baby was asleep right beside her in her bassinet.
"What can I do for you?" she asked with a smile.
"Mama, we want to do some chores," Red Eagle said.
"Chores? You don't have enough chores to do at home?" she asked wryly.
"Well, we want to make some money," Byron explained.
"I know what you meant," she replied. "What are you saving up for?"
"It's a secret," Katie said. "But it's something special."
"Extra special," Byron added.
"Oh, I see. Well, let me give it some thought. Perhaps you could help me clean out my cabinets
tomorrow." She wrote something more on the medical chart.
Byron stepped closer to the desk. "Mama, we kind of need chores right now. See, we don't have a
lot of time."
"What exactly are you children up to?"
"We can't tell you," Red Eagle said. "Sorry."
She glanced up again. "Oh. Well, I have an idea. Why don't you offer to wash people's windows?
You can borrow a bucket and I'll heat up some water for you."
"Good idea!" Byron exclaimed with a smile.
She chuckled and kept writing on the medical chart. "Just let me finish this and I'll get right to it."
Sully drove the wagon up to the homestead and jumped down. He put his toolbox on the porch and
then spotted Michaela in the garden. She waved and he headed over to her.
She was vigorously working up some damp soil with her hoe. The baby was sleeping in her pram
nearby.
"How was your first day?" she asked. She was wearing a sunhat and gardening gloves, and an old
apron. Despite her cheerful smile Sully thought she looked very worn and tired.
He walked down the row and kissed her. "Fine. What're ya doin'?"
"Just trying to salvage my garden after all that flooding we had."
"Thought we were gonna do this together."
"We are. But I wanted to get a head start. I need to get those new tomato seeds in as quickly as
possible or they won't bear fruit."
"Don't want ya workin' like this by yourself. Ya should ask Brian for help if I'm at work."
"Sully," she protested. "I'm fine. Besides, Brian doesn't have time to help out very much around here
anymore. He's busy with his own homestead."
He walked toward the pram and lifted out the baby, cradling her lovingly in his arms.
"Sully, don't wake her up," she protested with a soft smile.
"I won't," he whispered, lowering his head and kissing her little nose. "Hey, sweet girl."
"How was William?" she asked as she stepped down the row and hoed all the more vigorously.
He glanced up. "What do ya mean?"
"Well, what was it like working with him? Did you talk?"
"Didn't see much of anybody. Everybody was hard at work on what they were supposed to do. We
got a good team."
"What about at lunch? You didn't talk then?"
"I didn't take a lunch break," he said with a shrug.
"Sully, you have to eat!"
"I ate. I ate on the way over to the mercantile to pick up some tools we needed."
She shook her head in disapproval and squatted down to pull up some weeds.
"Michaela, what do ya want?" he suddenly asked. "Ain't exactly the place to have any long talks
with him even if I wanted to."
She glanced up, swallowing. "I suppose you're right."
He softened a little and stepped toward her. "Let's not talk about work. I just wanna wash up and
spend some time with you and the kids right now. Why don't ya come inside?"
"All right," she murmured, quickly standing up. She suddenly stumbled and Sully reacted
immediately, grabbing her arm.
"Easy. Michaela, what's wrong?"
She took a deep breath to rejuvenate herself. "It's just a little warm out here. I think I'd better get
out of the sun and get something cool to drink."
He put his arm around her worriedly. "How's that bleedin' you been havin'? It ain't gettin' worse, is
it?"
She shook her head. "No, it's the same."
He nodded. "All right. Come on, let's get ya inside."
She gave Eliza a kiss. "And she needs a feeding, too."
"Hey, how was your day?" he asked.
"Fine. The baby slept all afternoon."
He stopped and drew Michaela very close to him, giving her forehead a gentle kiss.
"Sully? What is it?" she asked.
"Nothin'. Just glad to be home," he murmured.
"Me, too," she replied, rubbing his arm.
Sully nudged Byron's arm, rousing him from a light sleep. "Byron? It's your turn. Ya fell asleep."
Byron straightened in the wingback chair and rubbed his eyes, studying the checkerboard again.
Michaela entered the room with the baby and pressed her hand to the little boy's forehead as he
moved a checker forward. "You don't feel ill, do you, sweetheart? You look exhausted."
"No. I just have sore arms."
"Me, too," Red Eagle said from his seat in front of the fire with a book. "I never knew the church
had so many windows." Katie sat beside him tiredly with her own book.
"Oh, you washed the Reverend's windows, too?" Michaela asked.
"My goodness you've been busy today," Elizabeth remarked from the other chair.
"Your turn again, son," Sully said.
He yawned. "I'm too tired to finish, Papa. Can we go to bed?"
"Yeah, I just want to sleep," Katie added.
"Sure. Head upstairs, we'll come tuck ya in."
"Night, Gran'ma," Katie said as she hugged Elizabeth.
"Goodnight, dear," Elizabeth said.
The boys hugged Elizabeth and then they all trudged upstairs.
"What's gotten into them?" Elizabeth asked curiously. "That's the first time they've ever asked to go
to bed."
"I don't know what they're up to. They've been doing chores all over town," Michaela said. "All they
told me is they're saving for something special."
"I wonder what it could be," Elizabeth replied.
"They didn't say anything to you, did they, Sully?" Michaela asked.
"Hm? No, they didn't."
"Perhaps I could ask around. Perhaps Loren or someone else knows what they're doing."
"Don't go pryin'. Just let 'em have their secret," Sully said wryly.
"I wasn't going to pry," she protested. "I was just going to ask around."
"It's a secret for a reason, Michaela."
"Well, I don't like secrets," she said impatiently.
"I'm not very fond of them myself," Elizabeth added.
Sully chuckled and held out his hand to Michaela. "Let's go tuck 'em in."
"If they're not asleep already," she replied with a smile.
Michaela finished wrapping up a thick ham sandwich in brown paper and then placed it in Sully's
lunch satchel. Then she found his canteen and uncorked it, filling it up to the brim from the pump.
The baby was awake and kicking her legs in her basket on the table, watching Michaela make
everyone's lunches and go about her morning routine. Michaela paused and walked to her, leaning
down and kissing her tiny cheeks.
"I love you. I love you, my baby girl," she said, smiling and smoothing her hair.
"Mama, could I have strawberries in my lunch?" Byron called, scurrying into the kitchen with Katie
and Red Eagle. "The ones we picked?"
"I think that could be arranged," she replied, returning to the counter. "I don't have any eggs yet.
You need to start your chores please."
Katie grabbed the egg basket off the kitchen table and the three of them ran outside, colliding into
Sully as he carried the milk bucket up the porch steps.
"Careful," he said, laughing and tossing Byron's hair.
Michaela carried Sully's lunch satchel and canteen to his tool box resting on the dining room table as
Sully came inside and shut the door.
"Mornin'," he said, pausing and giving her a kiss.
"Morning," she replied.
"Cow ain't givin' very much milk these days," he remarked, heading to the kitchen and placing the
bucket on the counter. "May be time she has another calf."
"Oh, you think so?" She tucked his lunch satchel in his toolbox and then paused as she spotted an
envelope on the bottom of the toolbox. She took it out curiously. It wasn't sealed, and she removed
the pages inside and opened them up. It was a lengthy letter with the salutation, "To my son, Byron
Sully."
Sully pumped some water into his hands and washed his face and neck. "Been a year since her last
calf. Kirk says Mr. Avery's got a couple good bulls he's willin' to breed for a fair price. I could go out
there and talk to him."
"Sully, what's this?" she called.
"What's what?" He dried himself off with a hand towel.
She walked into the kitchen. "This letter. Did William write you a letter?"
He stopped short. "Where'd you find that?"
"In your toolbox. Is this from William?"
He grabbed it from her. "Don't be openin' my private things. I told ya to stay out of this."
She swallowed hard, chastened. "I'm sorry."
He paused and put the letter on the table. "I'm sorry, Michaela."
She gently rubbed his arm. "When did he give it to you? Yesterday?"
"Yeah."
"What does it say?"
"I ain't read it."
"You haven't read it? Why on earth not?"
"He says it's some kind of apology. Well, I don't got any interest in what he's got to say, that's all,"
he replied, walking to the basket and reaching his hand in to rub Eliza's belly. "Hey, baby girl. How
ya doin' this mornin'?"
"Don't you think you at least owe him an opportunity to explain?"
"I don't owe that man a thing," he retorted.
She slowly picked up the letter again. "Sully, it looks to me like he's pouring his heart out on these
pages. I think we should at least read it."
"I told him and I'm tellin' you, there's nothin' he can say."
The children opened the front door and quietly walked inside with the basket of eggs. They stood
unnoticed while their parents quarreled.
"If you don't want to read it could I?" she asked.
He took the letter from her again. "No."
"Why?"
"Because. Because I don't want you to."
"But why?" she demanded.
He sighed. "Michaela, knowin' you it's gonna get ya all worked up, drag this out longer than it has
to. No, just forget he ever wrote it. None of your business in the first place."
"I didn't realize my husband and what he's going through were none of my business," she replied
tearfully. "My apologies."
He sighed deeply and folded his arms, turning away from her.
"I think you should read it, Sully. For both your sakes," she whispered.
He walked briskly to the kitchen stove and opened the damper. Then he tossed the letter inside,
slamming the damper shut after it. "I'll hitch the wagon," he muttered. He walked toward the door
and suddenly noticed the children watching him curiously. He gave Katie's shoulder a gentle squeeze
and then headed outside.
Loren opened the door to the Gazette, holding up the newspaper. "Dorothy, what's this all about?"
Dorothy looked up from her desk where she was composing a letter. "It's the Gazette."
"I know that. But could the headline be any bigger?" He pointed to the banner headline across the
front page that read, Banker Makes First Telephone Call in Colorado Springs.
"It's a big story, Loren," she said, turning back to her letter. "Of course I put a big headline on it."
He tucked the paper under his arm. "Well, just so you know Bell Telephone Company is coming out
here on Thursday to install my telephone in the mercantile."
"Your telephone? I thought you hated telephones. You said the mercantile's never going to get one."
"Changed my mind. Let everybody know to be at my place at four o'clock for the first call I make.
And be sure you're there early. No telling how big the crowd's gonna be."
She chuckled. "Loren, that's not news."
"What? Of course it is!"
"Colorado Springs already has telephones. It's not a novelty anymore. I'm afraid you're a little late."
"You mean you're not even going to come?" he exclaimed.
She sighed. "Well, I s'pose I could show up and write a little something. Or maybe send Brian over
to do it. But I don't know about the front page. We'll see what other news is happening next week."
He heaved a sigh. "Story of my life. I'm always old news."
"Oh, Loren. It's just a telephone. Besides, there's a lot more important things going on right now."
"Like what?" he demanded.
"Didn't you hear? That friend of Myra's that she brought to town, William? Michaela says he's Sully's
father."
"Oh, I heard that. Sounds like a senile old man to me."
"I don't think so. Michaela says he's telling the truth."
He put his hands in his pockets, nodding solemnly. "Well, at least he has a chance to know his
father now. The children can have a grandfather." He bowed his head.
"I s'pose that's true. I just can't imagine what Sully must be feeling."
"Well, it's none of our business."
"We could let them know we support them. That we're here if they need anything."
"I s'pose. I better get back to the store. I gotta clear out a space for the telephone."
"Good day, Loren."
"See you Tuesday," he replied.
"Afternoon, Dr. Mike," Kirk called as he pounded a nail into a board.
"You didn't take your lunch break yet, did you?" she called back as she crossed the railroad tracks
and walked up onto the telegraph office porch where the workers were gathered.
"No, we're just about to. Sully's just talkin' to Horace about somethin'."
She approached William, who was drinking from his canteen. "William, I thought you'd like to join us
for supper tonight," she said.
He hesitated. "Michaela, I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"The children would love to see you. They want to see their grandfather. Please join us?"
He peeked into the sling and gently rubbed the baby's hand. "Is that right? Well, all right. I suppose
I could. Thank you."
"Let me see this sweet pea," Kirk said, putting his hammer aside and walking to Michaela. "Hey,
Eliza. It's your Uncle Kirk. She's gettin' prettier every day, Dr. Mike." He reached into the sling and
lifted Eliza out.
Michaela watched him with a furrowed brow as he rocked her in his broad, tan arms. She had really
started to dread when other people held the baby. And it seemed like everyone wanted to, even
sometimes townsfolk she barely knew. Aside from family, namely her mother and Sully, she found
she just didn't trust anyone with the baby. It always made her nearly sick with worry when she was
separated from her. She was well aware it was irrational. No one was going to hurt her, and
certainly not their close friend Kirk. He had his own little girl at home and was perfectly capable of
holding a newborn safely and securely. But she just couldn't seem to help it. She stood as close as
she could to Kirk and kept her eyes on the infant the entire time.
She lasted about a minute before she couldn't stand it any longer. "I need to talk to Sully. Come
here, sweetheart." She reached for the baby and settled her back in the sling. Then she quickly
headed into the telegraph office where Sully and Horace were writing down some figures on a
tablet.
Sully glanced at her and gave her a small smile as he finished adding the figures.
"Looks good, Sully. I'll see to it the railroad gets those numbers," Horace said, walking to his
telegraph.
"Something wrong?" Sully asked, joining Michaela and rubbing her back.
"No. I just wanted to see you," she said shyly. "Can you come over to the clinic for your lunch
break?"
"Yeah. Sure," he replied, leading her outside. "We'll take half an hour for lunch," he told his
workers.
The men stopped what they were doing and headed for their lunch satchels and canteens as Sully
picked up his own satchel and walked with Michaela toward her clinic.
"How's your day goin'? How's the baby?" he asked.
"Just fine. I have a full schedule of appointments this afternoon. I was hoping you could pick up the
children from school," she said.
"Ya ain't overdoin' it, are ya? Maybe we should hold off on all these appointments."
"No, I'm not overdoing it," she replied. "I feel fine."
He gently put his hand on her back as they stepped up onto her porch. "Michaela, listen. I owe ya
an apology. I'm sorry about this mornin'. About the way I acted when ya showed me that letter."
She paused, gently cradling the baby under one arm. "You were taken off guard. It's
understandable."
"I'm angry at him, not you. I had no cause to take it out on you."
"You don't have to be angry, Sully," she replied. "It doesn't have to be this way." She paused,
dreading what she needed to tell him. "I invited him for supper again," she said quietly.
His brow wrinkled ever so slightly. "You didn't tell me you were gonna do that."
"You said he could get to know the children. I thought now would be a good opportunity to start."
He opened the door and guided her inside. "All right. If that's what you want."
"I was hoping it would be something you would want, too," she murmured. "That you might start
getting to know him, too."
"As my pa? You know how I feel about that."
"No, not yet," she replied. "I know you're not ready for that. But as a person first."
He nodded noncommittally and took a seat atop her desk, silently unpacking his lunch.
Michaela placed a platter of roast beef on the table as Elizabeth, Brian and the children took a seat.
"Sit next to me, Gran'pa," Byron instructed, holding the old man's hand and dragging him down to
the chair beside him.
"Let's join hands," Michaela said, holding her hands out to William and Red Eagle. "Katie, will you
say grace for us?"
Katie took Elizabeth and Brian's hands and bowed her head. "Lord, thank you for this good food and
for keeping everybody safe and for all your blessings. And thank you for sending William to us, so
we can have a gran'pa now. Amen."
Michaela glanced at William and gave him a soft smile. "Amen."
"Amen," he echoed.
"Pa workin' late tonight?" Brian spoke up quietly as he dished up some mashed potatoes onto his
plate.
Michaela glanced at the empty spot at one end of the table. Sully hadn't shown up for supper, not
that she was that shocked. The younger children hadn't seemed to make the connection yet, but
Brian had certainly noticed.
"He's still in town," she said quietly. "He's busy with this new project for Horace. Being foreman
comes with a lot of responsibilities."
"Papa works hard," Byron remarked.
"Tell us some more about England, William," Elizabeth said. "You know, my husband's side of the
family can be traced back to nobility in Ireland."
"Mother," Michaela scolded. "That was centuries ago."
"So? You don't happen to know any Quinns, do you?" Elizabeth went on.
He chuckled. "No, not that I remember. I wasn't a noble by any means. I was just a farmer. I grew
up in Hampshire, in a small town called Liphook."
"Liphook. I like that name," Byron said, taking a sip of milk.
"Is that where you met Sully's mother?" Elizabeth asked.
"Katherine?" he murmured. "Yes. She was from outside London. Her father bought the property next
to ours when she was sixteen and I was seventeen. We were married six months later."
Elizabeth cut her roast. "Oh, quite young to be getting married."
"Yes it was," he admitted.
"See, Ma? You think I'm young," Brian said with a smile.
"You are young," she replied.
"Almost twenty," he said. "Gran'pa was a lot younger than that when he was married."
"I'm just glad you put it off at least a few more months," Michaela said. "The longer the better."
"Your mother's right, son," William spoke up. "Katherine and I rushed into it. It probably would have
been better had we waited."
"You sayin' you regret it?" Brian asked, swallowing hard.
"No, no. Never," he replied. "But at seventeen, I knew nothing of the ways of the world. I was such
a dreamer back then. I didn't understand the responsibilities I would have, how difficult it would be.
Had I been a little older, perhaps….perhaps I would have done better by them. I just had stars in
my eyes."
"That's what he has," Michaela said, glancing at Brian. "Stars in his eyes."
"Ma," Brian protested.
William chuckled. "Don't worry, son. Just get everything in order before you marry, that's my only
advice."
"Yes, sir. I will."
"Did you and Sully marry young as well, Michaela?" William asked curiously.
"Heavens no," Elizabeth exclaimed. "Michaela was practically an old spinster."
Michaela glanced at her. "Mother. No I wasn't."
"I about fainted dead away when I heard you were finally engaged," she replied. "After more than
fifteen years of trying to find you a compatible suitor to no avail. I was convinced something was
wrong with you."
The children giggled and William chuckled softly.
"Nothing was wrong with me. I was just very busy with medical school and trying to start a
practice," Michaela explained defensively. "Marriage was the last thing on my mind for awhile."
"Oh, I see," William replied.
"She was toying with disaster if you ask me, putting it off like that," Elizabeth remarked
disapprovingly. "I thought I was never going to be a grandmother again."
"Mother, really," Michaela said.
"Mama was just waiting to find Papa," Katie said sweetly. "She hadn't found him yet."
Michaela smiled at her. "Yes, precisely. I moved to Colorado ten years ago and met Sully. We
married about two years later."
"And I finally got to be a grandmother again," Elizabeth said. "Thank goodness."
He smiled at Red Eagle kindly. "And this handsome one? I understand you adopted him not long
ago."
Michaela glanced at Red Eagle and patted his arm. "Yes, last summer."
Red Eagle stared at his plate and quietly ate his supper.
"Katherine loved children," William said whimsically. "She talked of adopting, too. Helping some of
the poor orphans in the city. As soon as we could afford it."
"Really?" Michaela murmured. "That was generous of her."
"I have a feeling you two would have gotten along splendidly," he murmured. He glanced at Red
Eagle. "Did you like Montana? I hear they have very good fishing up there."
Red Eagle glanced up at him, shrugging.
"Tell William about the fly fishing there, Red Eagle," Michaela said. "Everyone fishes with flies and
catches great big salmon. Red Eagle and his mother caught a fish half his size once, right
sweetheart?"
He shrugged again.
Michaela glanced at William helplessly. "He's shy," she murmured.
He smiled understandingly. "That's all right. I'm shy, too."
"Good supper, Ma," Brian spoke up helpfully.
"Yes, brilliant," William remarked.
Byron giggled. "Brilliant!"
"Thank you," Michaela said with a chuckle.
Michaela found William outside on the porch finishing his coffee. She walked to his side, carrying
Eliza over her shoulder.
"Beautiful sunset," she remarked.
"Yes."
"I'm so glad you could join us tonight, William," she replied. "I hope you enjoyed it."
"Oh, yes, of course. I very much like your mother. She's very…."
"Outspoken?" she said with a grin.
"No, I wasn't going to say that," he replied with a chuckle. "I was going to say spry."
She shook her head. "Yes, that's Mother."
"It must be nice to have her so close by. And I'm sure she appreciates your help."
"Yes, it's actually worked out quite well," she said. "Sully built her her own room off the back part of
the house so she has her own space when she needs it. And she's so helpful with the children. I can
really depend on her."
She took a seat on the bench and William followed her, gazing at the baby.
"Eliza. Would that be after your mother?"
Michaela smiled at the baby and rubbed her back. "Yes. I thought it was appropriate."
"Katie especially is so excited about this wee one. I think she is quite happy to have a sister."
"Yes, she is," Michaela said with a chuckle. "A boy would have been fine, too. But I must admit I
was really hoping for a girl this time myself." She shifted the baby to her other shoulder. "Though
sometimes I worry about the age difference. She's seven years younger than her closest sibling. I
don't want her feeling lonely."
"Yes, quite a big difference there," he remarked.
She took a brave breath and her lip quivered ever so slightly. "William, I thought you'd want to
know. Sully and I….we had another son before her. Jack."
"Jack?" he murmured, looking into her eyes.
"He…" She suddenly choked up. "He didn't make it. He passed away shortly after his first birthday.
From crib death."
"Oh, Michaela," he said breathlessly. "Oh, how terrible. I'm so sorry."
"It's been difficult. On both of us," she said.
"Is that why you're so protective of her?"
"Protective?"
"Well, I've just noticed you don't seem to want the baby to leave your side."
She kept rubbing Eliza's back. "I don't know. I suppose perhaps." She shrugged ever so slightly. "I
do like her to sleep with us. But I think Sully's getting a little impatient with me."
"Ah. Katherine preferred the boys sleep with us when they were small."
"Oh, really? Were you impatient about that?"
"I can't remember. I think I was a little. Sometimes," he admitted.
"I suppose it just makes me feel better. I can rest easier when I can feel her breathing next to me.
Maybe it's silly."
"You lost your son. Nothing silly about that. You should take your time." He patted her hand.
"Horrible things happen sometimes. Things that don't make any sense at all. But we must give
ourselves a second chance. I don't know where I would be without a second chance. I have to
believe we're all entitled to that."
"Yes," she whispered. "I believe so, too."
He stood. "I should head back. Thank you for everything."
"Thank you, William," she replied.
He kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Michaela."
"I don't like when Papa works late," Byron said as he cuddled up in his bed with Michaela and
clutched his stuffed puppy.
"I know. None of us do. But this is an important job working for Mr. Bing and he may be home late
a few times. I'll just have to you give you extra kisses for him." She smoothed his hair and kissed
his cheek, then held him all the closer. "Mm, I love snuggling with my boys. I look forward to this all
day."
"How 'bout this book, Mama?" Red Eagle said as he climbed into Byron's bed clutching a storybook.
Michaela shifted up and smiled. "Oh, The Silver Skates. I like this story."
The boys cuddled up with her and opened the book.
"'On a bright December morning long ago," Michaela began, "two thinly clad children were kneeling
upon the bank of a frozen canal in Holland. The sun had not yet appeared, but the gray sky was
parted near the horizon, and its edges shone crimson with the coming day.'"
The baby cried softly from downstairs where Elizabeth and Brian were watching her. Michaela
paused a moment to listen.
"Mama?" Byron said. "Come on, read. You didn't get to the good part yet."
She tried to focus on the book and not worry about the baby and why she was crying. "'Most of the
good Hollanders were enjoying a placid morning nap. Even Mynheer von Stoppelnoze, that worthy
old Dutchman, was still slumbering in beautiful repose.'"
"Stoppelnoze!" Byron cried with a giggle and Red Eagle laughed.
The baby's crying grew louder and Michaela stopped reading again to look toward the door.
"Michaela," Elizabeth called.
"Oh, dear. I'm going to have to go see what's wrong with your sister," she said, closing the book
and getting out of bed. "I'm sorry."
"Wait. But we didn't finish the story," Byron protested.
"It's past your bedtime anyway. School in the morning and you have a spelling test, don't you? Red
Eagle, get in your bed." She kissed his head. "Goodnight. I love you."
"Love you, too, Mama," he said, obediently climbing into his own twin bed.
Michaela cupped Byron's cheeks and kissed him. "I love you. Goodnight."
Byron just crossed his arms and stared forward.
Michaela paused a moment. "Byron? I love you," she said again. She glanced at him a little
disconcerted and then blew out their lamp and left the room.
Byron scowled and threw the book on the floor.
"Hey! Byron, don't throw books," Red Eagle scolded.
"Stupid baby," he muttered, punching his pillow and lying down.
"She's hungry I bet. She always is," Red Eagle said. "Don't worry."
Byron heaved a sigh and turned his back to Red Eagle, not replying.
It was about nine o'clock when Sully finally came home. Michaela was just finishing nursing the
baby and was rocking her to sleep in the rocking chair. He opened the bedroom door quietly and
walked into the room.
"Everything all right?" she whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered, pulling off his shirt. "How was supper?"
"It was very nice. We missed you."
"Kids asleep?"
"Yes, everyone's in bed. Sully, William said your mother was from outside London. And that they
married when she was about sixteen. Did you know that?"
"Guess I figured she musta been pretty young," he said, walking to the basin and pouring some
water inside.
"It sounds to me like they were no more than eighteen or nineteen when you were born. That's so
young to be leaving everything and getting on a ship to America all by themselves. And your mother
with child."
"My ma was a brave woman. She always was."
She rocked the baby some more and looked down at her. "I told him about Jack. About losing him."
"Ya did?"
"I don't know. I wanted to tell him. I thought he should know about his grandson."
He strolled to the rocking chair and lifted Eliza into his arms. "Ya ready to try sleepin' in your crib
tonight, sweet girl? What do ya say?"
"The question is, am I ready?" Michaela said softly, stroking the baby's head and kissing her cheek.
"Don't worry, we'll see plenty of her tonight. She'll be wantin' to nurse at two o'clock in the morning
if I know her."
"Yes, you're right." She kissed the baby again. "Night-night, sweetheart. Night-night."
Sully lowered her into the crib and covered her up warmly. "Sleep well, Eliza."
He turned to Michaela and grasped her hand, leading her to the bed. She took off her bathrobe and
laid it at the end of the bed, then cuddled up in bed with Sully, snuggling against his warm chest
and kissing him goodnight.
"I finally got ya to myself," he said wryly. "This is better."
She smiled fleetingly and tucked her head beneath his neck. She heaved a soft sigh, gently stroking
his chest with her fingers for a long moment. "Sully? Are you awake?"
"Hm? Yeah. What's wrong?"
"Byron wouldn't say I love you tonight."
"What do ya mean?"
"When I said goodnight to him. He wouldn't tell me he loved me. He always tells me that. We never
go to bed without saying that to each other." She couldn't suppress the hurt in her voice.
He gently stroked her hair. He knew how close Michaela was with their children and especially their
youngest son, and how important it was to her to maintain that closeness. He could tell how taken
aback she was by Byron's cavalierness.
"He's growin' up. Maybe feelin' like he don't always wanna say that."
"Do you think he's angry with me? I've been awfully busy with the new baby."
"Maybe. A little. Havin' a baby takes time for everybody in the family to adjust."
"I suppose."
He squeezed her arm. "Michaela, don't worry about it. He still loves his ma, even if he don't say it."
"I know. I just…I like hearing it. I suppose a mother never can hear it enough."
He smiled and held her closer. "Or a wife either. I love you."
She smiled up at him, then closed her eyes and tried to relax and fall asleep.
Sully awoke not long after Michaela got up. He shifted up a little and looked around the room,
finding her beside the crib, leaning over it and peering down inside as she rubbed the baby's belly
worriedly. He slowly got up and walked toward Michaela, touching her back.
"What's wrong?" He glanced in the crib. The baby was sleeping peacefully, her arms strewn above
her head.
"She just looks so small and lonely in there," she replied. "I feel like we've abandoned her."
"Michaela, she's fine. She's right close by. Come on, we gotta get some sleep. Got work in the
mornin'."
She glanced at him guiltily. She hadn't been able to sleep a wink, and she knew she was keeping
him awake with her restlessness. She decided she would at least try to go back to bed for his sake,
so he could get some rest. She nodded and they walked back to the bed. She took off her bathrobe
and put it aside, then climbed in with him.
He covered them up warmly and he drew her into his arms, kissing her head and closing his eyes
with a tired sigh.
Michaela couldn't shut her eyes. She kept listening for sounds from the baby. They were all so
reassuring, from the way she smacked her lips as she slept, to the little grunts and coos she would
make, to her heavy breathing.
"Michaela, go to sleep," Sully murmured at last, stroking her back.
"What time is it?"
He sighed. "I don't know. Late."
She shifted around and peered at the clock on the mantel. "Two o'clock. She needs another feeding.
I should feed her."
"She just had one. She'll wake up when she wants another."
"No, I need to keep her on a schedule." She sat up and he grabbed her arm, stopping her.
"Michaela, ya gotta relax," he said firmly. "You're gonna make yourself crazy watchin' her every
second."
"I can't help it," she replied, suddenly falling into tears. They slipped down her cheeks. "I'm sorry,
Sully. I'm sorry."
Taken aback, he rubbed her arm. "Oh. Shh. Shh. It's all right."
"I want to be able to just let her sleep in there and not worry about her. But I can't do it. I know
you and I can't have a healthy relationship with the baby in bed with us. You're right, we need time
to ourselves. But I just have to feel her next to me, I have to feel her breathing. I can't sleep a wink
with her in there."
He stroked her hair, desperate for her to feel better.
"Sully, please," she begged. "Just a little longer. Please, I need her next to me. I don't know what's
wrong with me. I just can't leave her alone in there. I can't leave her. Sully, I left our son alone in
that crib thinking he was safe and the next thing I knew he was dead."
"Michaela, that ain't gonna happen again," he said. "That don't happen very often, ya said so
yourself."
"What if it does?" she whispered tearfully.
He kissed her head and then got out of bed, reaching into the crib. He lifted the baby out, careful
not to wake her, and returned to the bed.
"Lie back," he whispered.
Michaela shifted down and leaned against her pillows and Sully tucked the baby alongside her chest.
Michaela let out a big sigh of relief and held the baby close. Sully got back in bed and ran his
fingers tenderly down the baby's back.
"I'm sorry, Sully," Michaela murmured.
He caressed her cheek. "It's all right. Maybe we just took this too quick is all. Maybe we need to
ease into it a little slower."
"Yes," she replied, suddenly feeling extremely tired. She closed her eyes a moment, thoroughly
drained.
"Get some sleep. We'll talk about it later," he whispered, giving her forehead a soft kiss.
Michaela climbed down from the wagon and hugged the children. "Have a good day at school. Good
luck on your spelling test."
"Bye, Mama," Katie called as the three of them raced off toward the schoolhouse.
Michaela unlocked the clinic and Sully followed her inside with the baby. She hung up her jacket and
then took the baby from him, kissing her cheek.
"Want me to come by for lunch again, eat with ya here?" Sully asked.
"Certainly. How's noon?"
"Sounds good."
She walked to her scale and unwrapped the baby from her blanket. "I think I'll weigh her again this
morning."
"Michaela, ya weigh her every day."
"No, I don't. Not every day." She smiled wryly and laid the baby in the weighing tray. "Every other
day perhaps." Her smile faded. "Six pounds, one ounce? Sully, she's lost three ounces." She spun
around to glance at him.
He approached her side. "She couldn't of. Ya sure?"
"See for yourself."
He glanced at the needle. "Maybe your scale's wrong."
"No, it can't be." Michaela lifted the baby out of the tray and held her close, trying to stay calm.
"Well, sometimes infants actually lose a little weight during the first week or so of life. It's normal.
I'm sure that's what it is."
He stroked the baby's head. "Yeah. Sounds like it. She'll be fine."
To be continued…
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Chapter Eight
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Brian hoisted up a small rock as he worked on the base of the chimney of his new house. He
spotted Sarah walking toward him carrying her basket.
"Hey," he called.
"Hey," she called back, scurrying over to him.
"I can't hug ya. I'm all covered in mortar and dust," he said with a chuckle.
She climbed over the base of the house and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "You'd better not try. You
missed lunch. I thought you were comin' to my place for my ma's fried chicken."
"I'm sorry, Sarah. I just got caught up workin' on the chimney, lost track of time."
"That's all right. I brought you the leftovers. How's that sound?"
"Sounds great," he replied. He picked up a trowel and used it to push in some mortar in between
the cracks of the rocks.
She carried her basket over to a makeshift table Brian had made with a slap of plywood resting
across two sawhorses. "All the weddin' invitations are in the mail. Mama and I were up until
midnight last night finishing them."
"How many we end up sendin' out?"
"Twenty-five," she replied. "I know it's more than we planned on, but I keep thinking of people we
forgot."
"Twenty-five's all right," he replied. "It'll still be a small weddin' just like we wanted."
She took out a plate, a napkin and silverware.
He dried his hands off on a rag. "Oh, Sarah? I wrote a letter to Ethan the other day. My real pa."
She eyed him curiously for a moment as he picked up his canteen and uncorked it.
"I wanted to invite him and his wife Lillian to the weddin'," he added, taking a swig from his
canteen. "So make the guest list twenty-seven."
She didn't reply as she laid a fork and knife atop the napkin.
"Why ya bein' so quiet?" he asked, wiping his mouth. "Somethin' wrong with that?"
"You sure that was a good idea?" she murmured. "Writin' him?"
He shrugged. "He's my real pa. Thought he should know I'm gettin' married, that I want him there."
"Oh, Brian, you really want him at the weddin'? After everything he's done to you?"
He averted his eyes. "That was a long time ago."
She stepped toward him. "He hurts you Brian. He's never stopped."
"You don't know Ethan at all," he said firmly. "You never even met him."
"Well, I heard enough about him to know. I don't want him ruining your wedding day."
"He ain't gonna ruin it, Sarah," he said impatiently. "He's my real pa. He's got a right to be here."
"Why do you insist on keeping ties with him, drawing it out? Don't you think it's time you moved on?
Matthew and Colleen don't talk to him, do they?"
"Don't make it right," he murmured, walking toward her. "He's still our father."
"Oh, Brian. You're the kindest, most forgiving person I ever met. It's one of the reasons I fell in love
with you. But in this case I think you're only hurting yourself."
"Sarah-"
"Brian, you've tried and tried with that man! And every time he's let you down! He's….he's awful to
you! Why can't you see that?"
"You don't know what you're talkin' about, Sarah, all right?" he replied impatiently. "Just, let this be
between me and my pa. Let me take care of it."
"Thought Sully was your pa," she whispered.
"I said leave this to me," he replied.
She turned around and tearfully finished unpacking the rest of the basket.
Sighing, Brian came up behind her and tenderly rubbed her back. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He
gave her head a soft kiss. "I just, I gotta try one more time. I just wanna give him one more
chance."
She wiped away her tears and spun around. "Have a seat. Go on and eat."
"Look at my spelling test, Mama!" Red Eagle cried as he raced down the school steps. Michaela took
the paper from him and smiled.
"All correct," she said proudly, hugging him. "A plus!"
He reached into her sling and grabbed the baby's hand. "Hey, Eliza. Wake up and see my spelling
test." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I miss you when I'm at school."
Michaela smiled and held him close. She was so thrilled that at least Katie and Red Eagle had easily
welcomed the new baby into their lives. For the most part they had been very patient about how
much time and energy Eliza required of her very tired parents. It was taking Byron longer to adjust,
but she had faith that eventually he would come around. "I think she misses you, too."
Katie and Byron came out of the schoolhouse with their books and lunch pails.
"Hey, Mama," Byron called, jogging down the steps.
"And how did you two do on your spelling tests?" she asked, grabbing Katie's hand and heading
back toward town.
"A plus," Katie said.
"Byron? How did you do?" she prompted.
He shrugged. "I messed up. I forgot how to spell some of them."
"Could I see it?" she asked quietly.
He handed her his paper. Michaela quickly scanned it. He had missed almost half the words. That
had to be disappointing, given how much she knew he had studied for it all week. "Well, the
important thing is you tried your best," she said, giving him a reassuring hug.
"Miss Teresa gave me this. She wants you to come see her." He dug into his pocket and gave her a
crumpled piece of paper.
"A note?" Michaela asked. She quickly opened the paper. Teresa Slicker wanted to meet with her
and Sully the following week. Michaela couldn't fathom what she wanted to discuss, and she had
never liked the teacher's habit of communicating everything through vague notes she gave to the
children to deliver. But it was no use arguing the point with her. "All right. Tell your teacher we'll
come," she said, putting her arm around the little boy's shoulders.
"Dr. Mike!" Loren called, jogging toward the bridge and motioning for her to follow.
She increased her pace. "Loren, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he said impatiently. "Just get over to the store. I'm about to install Colorado
Springs' second telephone, remember?"
"I'm sorry, Loren. I have an appointment at quarter past that I need to prepare f-" she began.
"They're gonna have to wait. Just get over here," he interrupted firmly, spinning around and
heading toward the saloon to round up more people.
Michaela raised her eyebrows and glanced at the children, who were giggling. "Very well then. Let's
go see the second telephone."
She led the children to the store where a young man wearing a toolbelt was examining some wires
attached to a large telephone very similar to Preston's mounted to the wall. The children ran off to
look at the toys on the shelves and Michaela began browsing the canned goods. Only a few other
customers were in the store shopping, none of them very interested in the telephone.
"Loren, I'm in the middle of a shave!" Jake protested, drying his hands on a towel as Loren dragged
him into the store.
Loren grinned widely, gesturing at the big box. "Well, what do you think?"
"It's a telephone," Jake said disinterestedly.
Loren cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting down the street. "Dorothy! Dorothy, you're late!
Hurry up!"
Dorothy came out of her Gazette with her notebook and pencil. She walked calmly down the street
and entered the store.
"Afternoon, Michaela," she said cheerfully, coming to her side. "Did you hear? Mrs. Morgan's boy
just got engaged to Lucille Parker. The wedding's in July."
"Oh, how wonderful. It sounds like this is going to be a very busy summer for the Reverend."
"Dorothy. Telephone's over here!" Loren said, hands on his hips.
"I'm coming, Loren," Dorothy said, shaking her head and walking to the counter.
"Byron, Red Eagle. Katie!" Loren called. "Get over here. Come watch."
"Yeah. After I get this yo-yo," Byron called back as he struggled to untangle the string on a wooden
yo-yo.
"Oh, no. Look what you did," Katie scolded, squatting down to help him.
Red Eagle raced over and grabbed Loren's hand. "I like your telephone, Mr. Bray," he said sweetly.
He tousled his hair. "At least somebody does."
The telephone worker connected the last wire and put his wire cutters in his toolbox. Then he
picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear, turning the crank on the side. "Bell Telephone
Company. Testing the line," he shouted into the mouthpiece. "Yes. Thank you." He spun around.
"You're all set, Mr. Bray."
"That's it?" he replied.
"That's it. We'll send you the bill." He gathered his tools and walked out of the store.
Loren just stared at the telephone in fascination and smiled widely. "Look at that. What a wonder."
"Well? Aren't you going to ring somebody?" Dorothy asked.
He glanced at her. "Ring somebody? Well, I…I don't know anybody to ring."
Dorothy shared a glance with Michaela and they both chuckled.
"Loren, you bought a telephone and now you don't know anyone to ring?" Michaela asked.
He glared at her grouchily. "I'll ring my suppliers when I need more stock. I don't need anything
right now. If that's all right with you."
"I gotta finish that shave," Jake replied.
"I need to get back to the Gazette. Afternoon, Loren," Dorothy said, following Jake outside.
"And I have a patient to see," Michaela said. "Come on, children."
"Wait," he said weakly.
"Don't worry, Mr. Bray," Red Eagle said, squeezing his hand. "Maybe somebody will ring you
instead."
"Who's gonna ring an old man like me?" he muttered.
"I would all the time. I mean, if I had a telephone," he said.
He smiled at him weakly. "Go on with you. See ya later."
"Bye, Mr. Bray," Katie said, quickly hugging him.
"See ya, Mr. Bray!" Byron shouted, scurrying out the door after Michaela.
Michaela rocked Eliza in front of the fire and stroked her cheek and she nursed. Sully was already in
bed after a long day, leaning against the pillows and watching his wife and new daughter lovingly.
"I'm afraid his telephone didn't garner quite the reaction he may have hoped for," she remarked.
"Don't see what all the fuss is about in the first place. Far as I'm concerned it's just another thing to
interrupt our peace and quiet out here."
"Don't be so cynical, Sully," she scolded wryly. "Besides, I may even get one for the clinic
eventually."
"Michaela, you don't need a telephone. Who would ya ring? None of your patients have 'em."
"But they might. Someday."
"Wouldn't count on it. Waste of money."
The baby suddenly released her hold on the breast and turned her head away disinterestedly.
"Finished already, sweetheart?" Michaela murmured with concern. "That wasn't very long."
Byron suddenly thrust open the door. "Papa, Mama-"
Michaela flinched and covered herself with Eliza's blanket. "Byron, I'm nursing your baby sister. You
need to knock."
"Oh. It's just there's this fly in our room buzzin' around. We can't sleep."
"And this was such an emergency you couldn't knock?" she replied
"You know you're supposed to knock when our door is closed," Sully said, sitting up straighter. "I
want ya to apologize right now."
"But Papa!" he exclaimed.
Sully narrowed his brow. "Byron, you tell your ma you're sorry."
"No! I never asked for a baby sister!" he retorted.
"Byron, I ain't askin' ya again. You apologize right now," Sully said firmly, getting out of bed and
looking down at him.
"Fine! Sorry!" he retorted, spinning around, grabbing the doorknob and slamming the door hard
behind him.
"Byron!" Michaela called.
Sully immediately got out of bed, shaking his head.
"Oh, Sully. This isn't getting any better," she said dejectedly. "I thought things would improve if we
just gave him time."
He folded his arms pensively. "I think maybe he got used to bein' the youngest. Used to the both of
us givin' him all our attention. Maybe he's just startin' to realize how much the new baby needs us
right now."
"Sully, I didn't tell you. Teresa wants to meet with us next week. About him."
"Why?"
"I have no idea. But he failed his spelling test today. He studied all week for that. Do you suppose
he's so upset about the new baby it's affecting his schoolwork?"
"I think he was strugglin' with spellin' before Eliza was ever born."
She swallowed hard. "Sometimes I feel like I've let him down. I sit with him and study with him all
the time. So does Mother and Brian for that matter. And I know he's trying. And yet he's still
bringing home failing marks."
"Ya ain't let him down," he said. "We're doin' the best we can with him. That's all we can ask." He
sighed. "I better talk to him."
"No, let me talk to him," she said, standing up and handing him the baby. "Can you burp her?"
"Yeah," he murmured, taking the baby from her and sitting in the rocking chair.
Michaela opened the door and walked down the hallway to the boys' room, buttoning up her
nightgown as she went. Byron was in bed with arms crossed and a slight scowl on his face. Red
Eagle watched him sleepily but wasn't saying anything.
"Where's this fly?" Michaela asked, taking a seat beside Byron.
"He flew out the door," he muttered.
"Oh. Good." She reached up to stroke back his hair. "Sweetheart, it's not that Papa and I don't want
you to come to us if there's a problem. Of course we do. But Mama needs a little privacy when I'm
feeding your sister. That's a private thing. You just need to knock next time, all right? Do you
understand?"
"Fine," he muttered.
She paused a long moment. "Byron, are you upset Eliza's a girl? She can still play baseball you
know. When she's older."
"I didn't want a brother either. I wish you never had a baby."
"Byron, don't say that!" Red Eagle protested.
"It's true," he retorted.
"Byron, I don't think you really mean that," Michaela said.
"Yes, I do," he said vehemently
"All right. We're all a little upset right now. I think we should get a good night's sleep and we'll feel
better in the morning." She gave his back a gentle pat and got up. "Goodnight, boys."
"Night, Mama," Red Eagle whispered as she shut the door.
"I never been back East myself," Kirk remarked as he and Sully leaned against the fence. "I hear tell
it's a bustlin' place."
"Pretty quiet when I was a boy," Sully remarked. "We lived in the countryside."
"Hudson River valley, right? I saw a postcard once. Beautiful."
Sully watched as Mr. Avery led a bull into the pen and unhooked the rope on its bridle. Sully's cow
was at the other end, chewing on some grass. The bull flared his nostrils and stuck out his tongue
as Mr. Avery took a seat up on the fence.
"Looks like he's interested," Kirk remarked. "So you remember your pa at all?"
Sully sighed. He didn't want to talk about his father or his childhood period, but Kirk seemed
oblivious to that. "No," he said shortly.
The bull approached the cow and sniffed her. "Your ma ever talk about him?"
"Nope," he replied. The bull made an attempt to mount her. Bessie seemed receptive to him and
didn't try to get away.
"Oh, there he goes. Good," Kirk remarked. "Ya know, Mr. Avery said this bull's sired about twohundred calves around these parts. I think ya got a good shot here."
"Hope so," Sully said. "She ain't givin' much milk anymore."
Kirk picked up a length of stiff grass and chewed on the end. "Wonder why he left. Ya ask him?"
"I don't much care why he left," Sully retorted.
"I'm just sayin', Sully, maybe he had a reason."
"What reason could their be to walk out on your wife, your two young sons, Kirk? A man don't walk
out on his family. No matter how bad things get, ya don't take the coward's way out."
"Sully, I just-"
"I know you're tryin' to help, but ya don't understand. Ya don't understand what he did to my ma."
"He's an old man, Sully. Whoever he was when you were a boy, he ain't him anymore."
Mr. Avery led the cow out of the fence and walked over to Sully. "Looks like it was successful. Bring
her back in a few days, I wanna give it a try at least a few more times for insurance. Then I'll come
by your place next month and see if she's pregnant."
"Thanks. How much I owe ya?" Sully said.
"Nothin' yet. Ya pay when we're sure she's pregnant. Six dollars."
Sully shook his hand. "Thank you, sir." He clicked his tongue and pulled the rope on the cow. "Come
on, girl."
"See ya tomorrow," Kirk said.
Sully nodded. "See ya tomorrow."
"Ya see that bottle there?" Sully said as he carefully added another bucket of hot water to the tub.
"Can you pour some of that in the water? That's lavender oil. It'll make the water smell real pretty."
Byron grabbed the small glass bottle off the chair and uncorked it, taking a whiff. "It smells girly."
"Mama's a girl, ain't she?"
"Oh, yeah," he said with a giggle. He dumped a good amount of the oil into the water.
Sully chuckled, taking the bottle from him. "Not too much, not too much."
"How come girls like takin' baths, Papa?" Red Eagle asked, resting one hand on the edge of the tub.
"I don't know. Guess it feels nice."
He scratched his nose. "Oh. Sounds boring."
Sully smiled at him and walked into the sitting room, the boys behind him. He found Michaela
dozing in the wingback chair with the baby and Elizabeth in the other chair with Katie in her lap,
reading a storybook. Sully carefully lifted the baby off her lap and rested her over his shoulder.
"Michaela," he whispered. "Michaela."
She opened her eyes. "Hm?"
"How'd ya like a nice warm bath before bed?" he said. "Wash your hair?"
"What about the baby?" she asked worriedly.
"We'll watch her. We got her."
"I'll play with her, Mama," Red Eagle said. "I'll be gentle."
"You don't mind?"
"We'll all play with her, Mama," Katie offered, putting her book aside.
"Yes, we'll look after her, Michaela," Elizabeth added.
"In that case a bath sounds lovely right now." She stood.
Sully nodded toward the kitchen. "We put up the tub for ya, got a towel and some soap."
She kissed him, then kissed the baby. "Thank you, Sully. Thank you to all of you."
He smiled at her and then grabbed a blanket out of the cradle and laid it on the floor, placing the
baby atop it and rubbing her belly.
"What do ya say, Eliza? Ya gonna be good for your pa while Mama takes a bath?"
"I'll get her toys," Byron said, racing toward the cradle and pulling out her rattle and a doll.
"You can't wet your diaper until Mama's done," Red Eagle instructed, squatting down beside Sully.
"Otherwise we're gonna have to change it!"
Sully chuckled and stroked her hair. "Good girl. You're such a pretty girl."
Sully and the children kept the baby occupied and happy for about five minutes until she began to
whimper and fuss. Then she began tossing her head in earnest and wailing quite forcefully,
smacking her lips.
"Uh-oh. Don't cry. Don't cry," Byron said, shaking the rattle in front of her. "Look at the rattle. I'll
hold it for you because you're too little just yet to hold it."
The baby just cried harder, her face reddening. Sully picked her up and walked her in front of the
fireplace, rubbing her back and trying to calm her down.
"Oh, dear. I think she misses Michaela," Elizabeth remarked.
"Sully!" Michaela called urgently.
"She's fine," he called back. "We got her."
He paced in front of the fireplace a few more times, desperately patting her back. "Shh. Shh, Eliza.
It's all right." The baby beat her head against his chest, puckering her lips in earnest.
Red Eagle giggled. "What's she doing? She thinks you're Mama."
"I think she wants to eat, Papa," Katie told him.
"Shh, Mama's gonna feed ya. Just as soon as she takes her bath," Sully soothed.
"Sully!" Michaela called again.
He sighed and carried the baby into the kitchen, walking behind the screens. Michaela was sitting up
tensely in the soapy water, holding a bar of soap. Her hair was damp and soaked with suds.
"What's wrong with her? Does she want to nurse?" she asked frantically.
"She's fine. She's just rootin' around. Just finish your bath."
She heaved a sigh. "I can't stand to hear her crying like that, Sully."
"Michaela, she'll be all right for five more minutes. She's all right."
Eliza banged her head against Sully's chest again, grunting in earnest.
She shook her head. "Oh, look at her. I can't do this to her." She abruptly got out of the tub and
grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her waist and then sitting in the chair.
Sully laid the baby in her arms and Eliza screamed some more and was so upset she couldn't even
find her way to the breast.
"Shh, Mama's here. Mama's here," Michaela soothed, guiding the nipple into the baby's mouth.
"There you are. There's Mama." Eliza quieted instantly and began suckling. Michaela smoothed away
the baby tears and stroked her head. "Shh, there you are. Is that better? I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Mama won't do that again. I'm sorry."
Sully gazed at the baby and put his finger in her little fist. "Ya couldn't wait just a little longer to let
your mama finish her bath?"
"I'm sorry, Sully," Michaela said. "When she cries she breaks my heart. I can't listen to it. I can't
stand it."
"Baby's cry sometimes."
"I know. But I can't stand the way she cries. She sounds like a wounded little kitten."
"Sounds like every other baby to me. It wouldn't hurt to wait five minutes. Ya coulda finished."
"I can't have a relaxing bath anyway with her carrying on. I'll finish. After she's done nursing."
Michaela awoke to a very uncomfortable, sticky dampness between her legs. She shifted up and
hoisted up her nightgown. She had soaked through the rags she had placed beneath her before she
went to bed and was lying in a puddle of dark blood.
"Oh, no," she murmured.
She made her way out of bed and grabbed a towel, desperately pressing it between her legs. She
removed it and glanced at it, swallowing hard, then put the towel aside and unbuttoned her
nightgown, slipping it over her head. Then she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and couldn't
help being a little alarmed. Blood had dried all down the inside of her legs during the night and
continued to drip onto her thighs.
Sully shifted in bed and opened his eyes, squinting at her. "Michaela, what're ya doin'?"
She shook her head uncomfortably and grabbed the towel again.
Sully immediately got out of bed and joined her, touching her back.
"I'm all right," she whispered.
"You're bleedin'!" he breathed.
"I'm sorry. I ruined the sheets."
"Here, let me help ya. Let me help," he said, grabbing another cloth and soaking it in the basin.
Then he squatted down and wiped it down one of her legs. He suddenly shifted and quickly pressed
the cloth between her legs. "Oh."
"What?"
"Blood clot. Pretty big. Something's wrong." He cringed, panicking all the more. "Ya just passed
another, Michaela. I gotta get ya some help."
She glanced at the cloth, swallowing hard. "No, it's good to be passing them. It needs to come out."
"This ain't right," he insisted. "I gotta get Andrew."
"It's just the remains of the uterine lining from the pregnancy. As long as I'm not showing any signs
of infection we don't need to worry. I don't have a fever, I'm not in any pain." She gave his cheek a
gentle caress. "Sully, this is what has to happen. It's not the most pleasant of things to go through,
but I promise you nothing is wrong."
He got to his feet and gave her a gentle hug. "Ya sure? Ya feel all right?"
"I'm fine. I'm just sorry I made such a mess," she murmured shyly.
"Don't worry about it. We'll take care of it. Let me heat some water for ya."
"It's the middle of the night."
"I don't mind." He grasped her arm and laid a fresh towel on the chair and helped her sit. "You wait
here."
She squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
He kissed her fingers. "Just take it easy, all right? I'll be right back."
The children gathered outside Jake's barbershop, holding their schoolbooks and lunch tins. Jake was
running his razor blade down a customer's chin. He rinsed it in a nearby bowl of water and glanced
at them curiously.
"Uh, need a haircut?" he asked.
"No, Mr. Slicker. We need a bathtub," Katie said.
"You don't look dirty to me," he replied, running the blade down again.
"Not for us. For my mama," Samantha explained.
He raised an eyebrow. "She's not dirty either."
"No, see, mamas like having baths," Byron explained. "It's boring to us but it feels nice to them."
Jake was slightly amused as he rinsed the blade again. "Oh, really? How do you know this?"
"Our pa. He knows everything about women," he replied.
"Oh. Maybe I should take lessons from him," Jake said.
"So how much is it?" Red Eagle asked. "The bath."
Jake rinsed the blade skeptically. "Too expensive for you. Ten cents."
Byron dug into his pocket, coming up with a coin and holding it out. "Here you go."
Jake examined the coin skeptically. "How'd you come up with ten cents?"
Byron shrugged.
"Oh, Mr. Slicker?" Red Eagle said. "Don't tell Samantha's ma we were the ones that got the bath for
her."
"Why?" he replied.
"It's a secret. She's at the café. Thanks!" Samantha said. The children scurried out, leaving Jake
standing there clutching the coin.
Jake found Myra chatting with Grace in her outdoor kitchen.
"Myra," he called.
"Hey, Jake," she replied.
"Your bath's waiting."
Confusion spread across her face. "Bath? What bath?"
"In my barbershop. Somebody paid for it for ya."
"Somebody? Who?"
"Sorry, I'm not allowed to say."
"Not allowed to say?"
He folded his arms impatiently. "Myra, are you gonna take your bath or not? The water's getting
cold."
"Go on, Myra. You might as well," Grace encouraged as she stirred something on her stove.
"Well, all right. I guess I should. You sure you can't tell me who did this for me, Jake? I just can't
imagine who."
"Somebody who must care an awful lot about you," he replied with a soft smile. "Come on, let's go."
"Hey, Mama!" Byron shouted as he opened the clinic door. Red Eagle, Katie and Samantha filed
behind him.
Michaela was dozing at her desk, her head resting across her arms. She awoke with a start and
straightened.
"Oh, sorry. Is it nap time, Mama?" Red Eagle asked.
She blinked away sleep and tried to refocus on the medical chart in front of her. "No, it's work time.
How was school? Did you just get out? How are you, Sam?"
"Hey, Dr. Mike," she said.
"Can Samantha stay and play?" Katie asked, putting her schoolbooks on Michaela's desk.
She glanced at the clock. "Yes, for a little bit. Do you want to scrub my floor? I'll pay you five cents
each if you do a good job."
"Yes, Mama. Please," Katie said with a smile.
Michaela glanced down a moment. She really wasn't too worried about the increase in blood flow
over the past few days. It was still within the normal amount and she wasn't experiencing any signs
of infection or any other concerning symptoms. But she still needed to keep a close monitor on it,
just in case it did get any worse. She got up and caressed Byron's head.
"Could you watch the baby a moment, sweethearts? I'll be right back and start heating some water
for you."
"Sure, Mama," Red Eagle said.
Michaela opened a drawer in her cabinet and took out several clean white rags and then headed to
the front recovery room and closed the door.
"I wish I had a little sister. She's so teeny," Samantha said, approaching the bassinette and peering
inside. Eliza was cooing contentedly and wiggling her legs.
"Yeah, she's fun. I mean, sometimes," Byron said. He put his schoolbooks and lunch tin next to Red
Eagle's and reached into the bassinette, lifting her out and holding her to her chest. "Hey, Eliza. It's
Byron. Can you say Byron? Say Byron."
"She can't talk yet, silly," Katie said.
"How do you know? Maybe she can if she tries," Byron replied intrepidly.
"Your ma lets you hold her?" Samantha asked, impressed.
"Sure. You just have to remember to hold her head good," Byron replied, cupping his hand around
the baby's head.
"Why?" Samantha asked.
"I don't know. I think babies like you to hold their heads," he explained.
"My turn next," Red Eagle spoke up, holding out his arms.
"Not yet. I'm still havin' my turn," Byron said, stepping away from him.
"You always hog her, Byron," Red Eagle protested.
"No I don't," he protested. "You hog her. Besides, we should let Sam hold her next. She's the
guest."
Samantha stepped back shyly. "I don't want to hold her. I'm scared."
"Don't be scared. It's easy," Byron said. He rocked the baby back and forth. "See, you just do this
and she goes right to sleep." He glanced up as Michaela opened the door and stepped back into the
room. "Mama, Samantha's afraid to hold the baby. Can you help her?"
"Byron, what are you doing?" she exclaimed, rushing to his side and taking the baby from him.
to be continued...
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Byron looked up at his mother, chastened. "Nothin'. I was holdin' the baby. Ma, you said I could
whenever I want."
"You said we could, Mama," Katie added in a whisper.
"Why were you standing up like that?" Michaela demanded. "No, you mustn't do that!"
"But you said I could!" he replied.
"I meant when you're sitting down," she replied, pressing Eliza against her shoulder. "When you're
sitting down and when I put her in your lap for you. I never want you to pick the baby up by
yourself and walk around with her like this. You're not ready for that."
"But I'm not a little kid, Mama," he protested. "I won't drop her, I promise."
"You'll do as I say or you won't hold her at all," she retorted. "That goes for all of you, do you
understand?"
"Fine," Byron muttered.
She swallowed hard and gently rocked the baby. "Do you want to sit at my desk and hold her now?
That would be all right."
"No, not anymore," he murmured. He glanced at the older children. "Come on. Let's go to the
meadow and play."
Michaela came down the stairs and entered the dining room, cradling the baby in the sling and
holding a notebook and pencil. Elizabeth and the children were setting the table for supper and a
big pot of stew was in the center.
"She didn't want to nurse for some reason," Michaela remarked, glancing at Elizabeth. "I'm going to
start keeping track of when she's eating and for how long."
"Why?" Elizabeth asked. "Do you think something could be wrong?"
She scribbled down a few numbers on the notebook and then put it aside. "I don't know. She's just
been a little unpredictable lately. Sometimes I'm not sure she's getting enough."
"Parents always worry their baby isn't getting enough. I know I did. But she'll let you know if she's
not."
Michaela glanced down at the baby and rocked her. "I suppose."
Brian opened the door and walked inside, taking off his hat.
"Brian!" Katie shouted, running to him and giving him a hug.
"Hey, Kate," he replied.
"Brian? I thought you were eating at Sarah's again tonight," Michaela said.
"Change in plans," he replied. "Mind if I eat supper with the family tonight?"
"Mind? Of course not."
"I'll get you a plate!" Katie said, scurrying off to the kitchen.
"Why aren't you eating at Sarah's?" Elizabeth asked. "She's not ill, is she?"
"Nope," he replied, unbuttoning his jacket and hanging it up.
"Well, then why?" Elizabeth demanded.
"Mother," Michaela scolded.
"It's all right, Ma," Brian said as Katie set down a plate and laid out an extra napkin and silverware.
"Truth is we sorta had a fight the other day."
"Oh? What about?" Michaela asked.
He walked to the table and grabbed a roll out of the basket. "Nothing too important. I don't really
wanna talk about it right now if that's all right."
Michaela gave his arm a gentle pat. "Sit down. We're about to eat."
Sully opened the door just as Michaela took off the lid from the pot of stew and began dishing up
everyone's plates.
"Sorry I'm late," Sully said. "Brian, didn't know you were comin'."
"Hey, Pa," he replied.
The children ran to him and hugged him. Sully picked up Byron and threw him into the air playfully.
"You're not late. You're just in time," Michaela replied as she handed Elizabeth her plate.
He spun Byron upside down and then put him on his feet as the little boy screeched with delight.
Then he gave Michaela a kiss. "Smells great." He crouched down and kissed the baby. "Hey, baby
girl. Hey. Pa's home."
"Red Eagle, ask the blessing please," Michaela said as everyone sat down and joined hands.
He bowed his head. "Bless this food and our family. And please help Eliza eat more milk because
Mama thinks she's not eating enough and she needs to eat more. Amen."
"Amen," Michaela said. "Thank you, sweetheart. That was thoughtful of you."
"Baby still losin' weight?" Sully spoke up as he picked up his fork.
"She hasn't lost any since yesterday," Michaela told him. "But she's not gaining either."
He dug into his stew. "Babies lose a little the first week or two. Ya said so yourself."
"Yes, I'm hoping that's all this is," she replied as she took a sip of coffee.
"How was everybody's day?" Sully asked.
"Pretty good," Katie said. "We already finished our homework."
"Good," Sully replied. "Maybe after supper we can throw the baseball a little, how's that sound?"
"Mine was good except for the part where Mama yelled at me," Byron spoke up.
Sully glanced at Michaela curiously.
"Byron. Sweetheart, I didn't yell," Michaela said.
"Yes you did," he muttered.
"What happened?" Sully asked.
"I was just holding the baby, Papa. I wasn't doing anything wrong," Byron said, stirring his stew
impatiently.
"I just left the room for a moment and he took her out of her bassinette all by himself and was
standing up with her," Michaela said disapprovingly. "He's too young to carry her around like that,
Sully. They all are." She glanced down at Eliza protectively. "What if he tripped?"
"Ma, I won't trip," Byron protested. "Everybody else gets to walk around with Eliza. How come I
can't? Papa, tell Mama."
"Hey, you listen to your ma," Sully spoke up firmly. "She wants you to sit down when you hold the
baby then that's what you're gonna do. Byron?"
"Yes, sir," he whispered.
"What?" Sully replied.
"Yes, sir," he replied a little louder.
"I'm sorry if I yelled," Michaela spoke up. "I was just surprised to see you doing that."
Byron glanced at her and took a bite of stew.
"Byron? Ya got somethin' ya wanna say?" Sully prompted.
He sighed and swallowed his food. "I'm sorry I picked Eliza up all by myself," he whispered. "Next
time I'll sit down."
"Apology accepted," Michaela said with a soft smile.
"How was your day, Sully?" Elizabeth asked.
He ate another bite of stew. "Fine."
"Everything going all right with William?" she asked.
He glanced at her impatiently. "Everything's fine."
"He told ya anything about his past?" Brian asked. "Wonder what he's been up to all these years."
Sully drank down a sip of coffee. "We don't much talk."
Michaela sensed the subject of William was really making Sully angry. "Um, children, you have a
baseball game this week don't you?"
"Hey, can Gran'pa come to our baseball game?" Byron asked, reaching for the basket of rolls.
"Yes! Gran'pa!" Katie exclaimed. "Papa, can you ask Gran'pa to come when you see him at work?"
"You want him at your baseball game you can ask him yourself," he said.
Katie glanced at him curiously. "Oh. All right."
"I'll ask him for you," Michaela spoke up helpfully. "Next time I see him." She tried to catch Sully's
eyes but he was focused on eating his stew and ignoring her. "I'm sure he'll love to come," she
added softly.
"Oh, Dr. Mike, I just got some more of that new soap Elizabeth likes," Loren said from the counter
as Michaela walked into the store carrying the baby.
"Oh. All right. I'll let her know," she replied quietly.
"What can I get you today?" he asked, putting down his clipboard and pencil. "You have a list?"
"Actually, Loren, I didn't come to shop," she said. "I was hoping you might have a few minutes to
talk."
"Talk? Sure, Dr. Mike. About what?"
She circled the counter. "I take it you've heard about Sully's father."
"William? Yeah, I heard."
"I'm afraid Sully wants nothing to do with him. He'd be happy if he went back to St. Louis on the
next train."
"Well, guess he's got his reasons."
"You've known Sully longer than almost anyone. Certainly a lot longer than me. I was wondering,
has he ever talked about his past before? Perhaps he mentioned something to Abigail?"
"Sully and I weren't exactly havin' a lotta long talks when he was involved with my daughter," he
said grimly.
"Oh. Of course," she murmured.
"We didn't know much. I didn't even know his parents were from England until William came to
town. Maude said his mother drowned herself. Abigail told her. That's all we knew of his past. Fact
is, that was the only time I ever saw Abigail unsure about marrying him."
"Abigail was unsure?" she replied with surprise.
"Well, not for long. She was just a little upset she didn't know more of where he came from. Came
home cryin' to Maude one night a few weeks before the weddin'. I guess Sully got angry with her
when she asked him about it. But she got over it."
"Oh," Michaela said. "Loren, it's just, I want to help Sully have a relationship with his father. He's
never had that. But I don't know how to help him forgive him for walking out."
"I don't think it was the walkin' out, Dr. Mike. At least not directly."
"What do you mean?"
"When somebody dies, ya always wanna find somebody to blame. I know I did. Guess I thought it
would help me feel better, tellin' myself it was somebody else's fault."
It suddenly dawned on her. "You're saying he blames his father for his mother's death? But William
was gone nearly ten years before that happened. How could it be his fault?"
"I'm willin' to guess Sully don't see it that way. Maybe he thinks if his pa was around, she never
woulda done it."
"You may be right, Loren," she said, rubbing the baby's back pensively.
"I blamed Sully when my daughter died. But like they say, time heals. I eventually saw what a fool I
was. I realized it was just a bad accident. Sully's mother, her killin' herself wasn't anybody else's
fault either. Just a question of when Sully's gonna see that."
"If he ever does," she murmured.
Suddenly Loren's telephone buzzed loudly. He shook with surprise. "Look at that! That's the first call
somebody's made to me!"
"Aren't you going to answer it?" Michaela spoke up helpfully.
"Oh, right," he said, rushing over to the phone and picking up the receiver. "Bray's Mercantile. Loren
Bray speaking," he shouted excitedly. He paused a long moment and his face fell. "No, Bray's
Mercantile. Colorado Springs. Right. No, that's all right. No harm done. Goodbye." He hung up the
receiver and returned to the counter.
"Well? Who was it?" Michaela asked with a smile. "Anyone important?"
"Nobody. They meant to ring somebody else," he grumbled.
"Oh," she said, trying to suppress her amusement. "Well, I should be heading back."
"Right. See you later, Dr. Mike."
"Loren, thank you," she said.
He smiled softly. "You're welcome."
Dorothy wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, stepped down from the Gazette and headed
toward the meadow. The saloon was bustling as it usually was around nine o'clock at night, but the
rest of the town was quiet and peaceful.
She watched curiously as a man leaned against the bridge and wrapped his hand around his ankle.
He tried to walk on it and stumbled, catching himself on the rail of the bridge.
Dorothy increased her pace a little, approaching him. "Sir? Is something wrong?" she called.
He glanced up with embarrassment. "No, ma'am. Nothing. I just stepped into a gopher hole back
there, twisted my ankle a bit."
"You're William, aren't you? We haven't formally met. I'm Dorothy Jennings."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jennings. What's a lovely lady like you doing out here all by herself at
this time of night?"
She smiled shyly. "I usually take a long walk after supper. I love the cool night air."
"Well, so do I. That's what I was doing. Or at least trying to do!"
She chuckled softly. "Well, I could drive you out to Michaela's. I think she should look at it. What if
it's broken?"
"Oh, no, no it's nothing like that. I won't require a doctor. I'll just put my feet up tonight. I'll be
better in the morning."
"At least let me help you back to the boarding house then," she replied. "We'll take it slow."
He put his arm around her shoulders. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Michaela told me who you are. What a surprise it must have all been to finally find your son."
"You could say that. Have you known Sully long?"
She nodded. "Oh, yes. He was married to my niece years ago. My sister's daughter Abigail."
"Oh, I didn't know Sully was married before."
"You didn't? Oh. Maybe you should ask him about that then."
"There's not much Sully's telling me at the moment," he admitted.
"Oh," she murmured. "Well, she…she passed away in childbirth. During the war. She and the baby
both."
"Oh," he whispered, swallowing hard. "That's dreadful."
"Sully left town soon after that, didn't return for years. He took it all real hard."
"Any man would."
"Of course, I was busy helping my sister get through what had happened, her husband Loren, too.
And I still had young'uns of my own in the house. I'm afraid I wasn't a very good friend to him at
the time."
"I'm sure that's not true," he replied. "After all, what can anyone do in such a situation? I'm sure
you all did your best."
She smiled softly as they reached the boarding house and she helped him onto the porch. "Can you
make it inside?"
"Yes, certainly." He grasped her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, ma'am. You've been too kind."
Her cheeks blushed faintly. It had been quite awhile since a man had caught her interest. And
William was a particularly handsome man, she had to admit. "You're very welcome," she replied.
Sully roused when Michaela woke up at about three in the morning. He watched her quietly get out
of bed and step into her slippers and button up her robe. She looked a little uncomfortable and
there was a trace of sweat across her brow.
"You all right?" he whispered.
"Outhouse," she whispered back.
Sully rubbed the sleeping baby's back and waited up for Michaela to return. About ten minutes later
when she still wasn't back, he got out of bed, tucked a few pillows around the baby just in case she
managed to move, and then padded downstairs.
He found Michaela standing at the kitchen sink nearly gulping down a tall glass of water.
"What's wrong?" he asked, approaching her and putting his arm around her.
She finished off the glass and sighed. "Nothing. I just have to be careful to stay hydrated."
"Ya losin' more blood? It gettin' worse?"
"No, it's not any worse. It's just continuing for a little longer than I planned for." She brought her
hand to her belly and gently massaged it. "I'm a little crampy. I've been passing more clots."
"What do ya wanna do? Ya wanna sit in the outhouse again?" he asked.
She nodded. "I think I should."
She put the glass down and headed off to the outhouse. Sully followed right behind her and walked
into the outhouse with her, crouching down with her and rubbing her belly.
"Sully, go back to bed," she told him.
"No, I'm gonna stay with ya in case it gets worse," he said as he continued to massage her
stomach. "Does this hurt?"
"No. You can press harder. It'll help encourage it to contract and pass the clots." She guided his
hand down lower. "Press right here."
He felt her forehead with his other hand and then her cheek. "Ya don't seem feverish. That's good,
right?"
"Yes, there's no sign of infection at all. Heavy bleeding is more common in women the more children
they have. Sometimes it takes a little longer for the uterus to get back to normal."
"What if it don't stop?"
"It will. Eventually."
"It could get worse, Michaela."
She swallowed. "Well, if it does I may have to talk to Andrew about doing a dilation and curettage.
But I doubt it's going to come to that."
He paled slightly. "What's that?"
"Put me to sleep and scrape the inside of the uterus of any remaining tissue with a special
instrument. It's actually a fairly routine procedure. I've done it dozens of times on women."
"Sounds like that's what ya need. I better bring Andrew out in the morning."
"No, he'll want to do it right away. There's always a risk of infection with any kind of procedure like
that. I'd rather not if I don't have to. I'd rather wait and see for now."
"I think we've waited long enough, Michaela."
"Sully, I'll be in bed three days, perhaps even more if I have that done," she protested, shaking her
head. "I can't go through that again. I can't be incapacitated like that again. I just got back on my
feet and now you want me back in bed."
"So you're just gonna let yourself bleed to death," he replied impatiently.
"Of course not. Don't exaggerate." She placed her hand atop his and pressed it downward all the
harder. "We'll just keep massaging tonight, see what happens."
Sully wasn't very comfortable being conservative, but Michaela seemed adamant she didn't need a
doctor and everything would sort itself out on its own. He kept massaging her belly and stayed right
with her until she decided she had passed everything she could tonight and they went back to bed.
William limped over to the frame of the building with his hammer and a tin of nails. Kirk watched
him with concern.
"You're really nursin' that ankle, William," Kirk remarked as he measured the length of a board and
made a mark with his pencil.
William braced a nail and pounded it in. "That? Oh, it's nothing. I just walked on it wrong."
"You oughta have Dr. Mike take a look."
"No, that's not necessary," he said with a chuckle.
Sully walked over with a bucket of water and a ladle, placing it in front of the men. "Gettin' warm
out. Wanna be sure everybody's gettin' enough water. Everybody take five minutes."
Kirk hopped down and took off his hat. "William hurt himself, Sully. Twisted his ankle."
Sully glanced at the old man curiously. "Ya hurt yourself on the job?"
"No. I was just walking in the meadow the other night. It was dark."
Kirk dipped the ladle in and took a big swig of water. "Ya oughta let him go over to the clinic, get it
checked out by Dr. Mike."
"Kirk. I told you it was nothing," William scolded. "I've put up with injuries a lot worse than this over
the years."
"Injured man shouldn't be workin'," Sully said. "You go over and have Dr. Mike take a look. She says
you're all right to work then ya can come back."
"Well, if you insist," he replied.
"Let me help you, Will," Kirk said, stepping toward him.
"No, no, I can manage," he said, brushing him off. "I may be old enough to be your grandfather,
young man, but that doesn't mean I can't keep up with you spring chickens like the best of them."
Kirk chuckled and put his hat back on. "Well, if you say so." He watched as William hobbled slowly
down the street. "Sure a stubborn old timer," he remarked. "But a good worker. A real good worker,
wouldn't ya say, Sully?"
"I guess," Sully muttered, dipping the ladle in the bucket and taking a long drink.
William rang the clinic bell.
He opened the door to find Michaela emptying out her medicine cabinet and wiping down all the
bottles. Her hair was tied back with a kerchief and her face was bathed in sweat.
"Oh, William. Good morning."
He held onto the doorframe for support. "What are you so hard at work at?"
"The baby's sleeping so I thought I could finish some spring cleaning. What can I do for you?"
He hobbled inside. "I seem to have walked wrong on my ankle."
She put down the bottle she was holding and approached him, putting her arm around his waist to
steady him. "Here, can you make it to the table?"
"You work too hard," he remarked, slowly hobbling to the examination table and hopping up. "You
should take it easy. After all, you just had a baby."
"You sound like Sully," she murmured. "Take off your boot and sock."
"That's because he's right."
She sighed and walked to her medicine cabinet to gather some gauze, a pair of scissors and a
basin. It was true she was pushing herself these first several days back at the clinic. She didn't
know who she was trying to impress. Perhaps only herself. She wanted to prove to herself that
motherhood would never slow her down, that her clinic wouldn't suffer just because there was a
new baby in the house. The truth was it was far too late for that. She had already missed who knew
how many weeks, probably even months of work during her pregnancy from all the morning
sickness and bed rest. Of course Andrew was always ready and available to take over whenever she
needed, but she felt like she had relied on him more than ever during this particular pregnancy, and
now that the baby was born she wanted to make up for everything she had missed. As a result she
was nearly dead on her feet, though not about to admit that to anyone.
Michaela returned to the examination table and gently flexed his foot back and forth.
"Well, it's not broken. It appears to be just a slight sprain. I'll wrap it up for you and then get you
some ice. It should be feeling better in a few days."
"Thank you," he replied.
She cut off a length of gauze and began wrapping his ankle. She blinked quickly and struggled to
stay lucid on her feet.
"Michaela, what's wrong?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing. Is this too tight?"
"Michaela, perhaps you should sit down," he said, eyeing her worriedly. "My ankle can wait."
"No, I'm all right," she protested.
He slid down from the table and grasped her arm. "Please, you're pale as a ghost. You're
frightening me. Have a seat."
"Perhaps I should sit down," she murmured.
He lead her to the desk. Before they reached her chair she suddenly stumbled and fell forward.
William caught her just before she hit the floor and held her up beneath her arms. He got down on
his knees and laid her on the floor, turning her to her back. Her eyes were rolled back and sweat
dripped down her forehead.
He patted her cheek firmly. "Michaela? Michaela?"
Her eyelids fluttered and then she opened them, looking up at him in confusion. She raised her
head off the floorboards, trying to get up. He pushed her gently back down.
"No, no, don't move. Don't move. Stay where you are. I'll get Sully."
"What happened?" Michaela asked groggily as Sully helped her sit up.
"Sounds like ya fainted," Sully said, squatting beside her and holding her hand. "What's wrong? Ya
feel sick?"
She pressed one hand to her brow. "No, just a little light-headed."
William brought over a glass of water and handed it to Sully. "Here you are, Michaela. Drink some of
this."
Sully held the glass for her while she took a few sips of the cool water.
"How ya feel now? Better?" Sully asked worriedly.
She nodded. "I think I'm probably still quite anemic. I should try to increase the iron in my diet.
And rest a bit more. Try to take it easy."
"Sounds like what I been sayin' all along," Sully replied. He sighed pensively. "I ain't gonna be able
to get away until lunchtime. I could drive ya home then, that all right?"
"No, I don't need to go home," she protested. "I have half a dozen appointments this afternoon. I'll
just take a nap upstairs. I'll be fine."
"Cancel those appointments. You're goin' home to rest," he replied resolutely.
"Sully's right," William spoke up. "You need to rest at home. At least for the day. I'll drive her back
right now if you'd like, Sully."
Sully gave him a brief glance. "I'll take care of this."
"You said you can't take me home until lunchtime," Michaela said. "Besides, William can't work
today anyway with that unstable ankle."
"I might as well make myself useful and drive Michaela and the baby home," William said.
Sully sighed deeply. He didn't like the idea of William interfering in their private lives, but it was
more important to him that Michaela get back to the homestead as soon as possible where she
could have a long rest. "All right, fine. Take our wagon," Sully murmured. He wrapped his arm
securely around Michaela's waist and helped her slowly to her feet. "Easy now," he whispered. "Real
easy. How ya feel?"
"Better," Michaela said, rubbing his arm reassuringly. "I won't do that again, I promise."
He smiled softly and gave her a gentle kiss. "Good, ya better not."
"I'll just bring the wagon around," William murmured, heading out the door.
Sully gave her a hug, caressing her head. "Told ya you were workin' too hard."
"Sully, don't be angry."
"I ain't angry," he replied. "Ya didn't mean it."
"Not that. At William driving me home. He cares about us, Sully. All of us."
"He thinks doin' this is gonna get him on my good side, it ain't," he muttered.
"Sully. That's not what he's doing. He's just being a good father-in-law, helping out his daughter-inlaw."
"That how you see him? Your father-in-law?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes," she admitted. "At least, I'm beginning to."
"Fine. Good," he replied, breaking apart and heading for the door.
"Sully, please," she protested. "There's nothing wrong with trying to get to know him a little better."
"Ya always wanted your pa back," he replied, grabbing the doorframe. "Guess William is as close as
you're gonna get. I'm happy for ya."
"Sully, please don't be like this." She sighed. "If this is going to upset you this much then I won't go
home with him. Not if it means we're just going to fight about it endlessly afterward."
"Do what ya want," he replied, heading outside and walking back down the street.
William glanced at Michaela as he headed the wagon down the narrow road toward the homestead.
She wrapped one hand around his upper arm and glanced down at the baby in the basket at her
feet.
"Feeling better, Michaela?" he asked.
She smiled reassuringly. "Much better, thank you. Thank you for driving me home."
"My pleasure." He slapped the reins again. "I met your friend the other night. Dorothy."
"Oh, Dorothy. Yes, she's a close friend of ours."
He scratched his cheek. "She…she told me a bit about Sully. About his marriage to her young niece
and what happened."
"Oh, Dorothy told you about Abigail?" she replied curiously.
"Yes, Abigail. Lovely name."
"I never met her. But she was a lovely girl from what I've been told," Michaela replied. She glanced
at him. "William, Sully's been through a lot of tragedies. More than any one person should have to
bear."
"Yes, I see that now," he murmured.
"I think it would be wonderful for him to have his father in his life, believe me I do. But
unfortunately I don't know how realistic it is he's ever going to be all that receptive to this. He's
afraid, William. Afraid of facing all that pain again."
"Yes, I see that now, too," he replied, swallowing hard. "Can't blame him, I reckon."
She squeezed his arm. "The children have been asking about you. They have a baseball game
Saturday in the meadow. We'd love it if you'd join us."
He hesitated as he gazed out at the road.
"William, come to their baseball game. Come see your grandchildren."
He smiled at her softly. "All right, Michaela. I will."
Her smile suddenly fell and she hunched over, clutched her stomach with one hand and groaned.
He glanced at her, alarmed. "Michaela?"
She struggled to regain her composure, then suddenly doubled over all the more. "William," she
choked.
He pulled back on the reins, stopping the wagon, and touched her back. "What is it? Are you in
pain?"
"I think you should…you should take me to Dr. Cook's. He's at the Château. It's, um, the south
road." She closed her eyes and held the arm of the wagon seat tightly.
"Yes, yes. I know the Château. Yes, just hold on. I'll have you there as quick as we can." He slapped
the reins hard. "G'up! Hee-ya!"
William climbed down from the wagon and held his arms up for Michaela.
She shook her head tearfully, her arms wrapped around her belly. "I don't think I can." She was
nearly panicking now, so frightened by the intense abdominal pain she was breathing quickly and
sweating.
"I have you, lassie," he vowed. "Place your hands on my shoulders and we'll take it slow." She
nervously grabbed onto his shoulders and he lifted her gently to the ground. "There we are," he
said. "Now, do you think you can try to walk?"
She panted all the harder and held onto his shirt tightly.
He squeezed her shoulder and looked at her sternly. "Michaela? Michaela, take some slow breaths.
It's going to be fine."
She tried to keep calm and trust him that it would be all right. William led her slowly to the clinic
door and knocked on it as hard as he could.
"Doctor!" he called. "Doctor, we need your help!"
Andrew opened the door, a medical journal tucked under his arm. "What can I do for…Michaela!
What's wrong?"
She doubled over again, nearly collapsing. William swept her up into his arms. "She fainted this
morning. And now she's having pain," he explained.
Andrew quickly put the medical journal aside and opened the door wider. "Bring her inside. On the
table."
William carried her in and laid her on the table while Andrew grabbed his stethoscope and followed
him over. Michaela groaned as Andrew expertly felt her belly with both hands.
"Michaela? Can you talk to me? The postpartum bleeding, has it increased?" Andrew asked.
"Try to answer the doctor," William spoke up. "He's going to help."
"It's been a little heavier the past few days. A lot heavier last night," she replied breathlessly. "I
keep passing blood clots. Large ones." She swallowed hard. "Andrew, I shouldn't be bleeding like
this. I think I need a dilation and curettage. Oh, my God. Oh, God."
"All right. All right. Let's see what's happening first." He walked to his cabinet and opened it up.
"Your placenta was very fragmented when you gave birth. It's possible there's still a small portion
that's remained inside."
"What if we can't stop the bleeding?" she said fearfully.
"It'll stop. It'll stop," William whispered. "Take some deep breaths for me. There's a good girl."
Andrew walked back to his cabinet and found his stirrups. "Are you having trouble breathing?"
"No," she murmured tearfully. "The pain's just so overwhelming. It came on so suddenly."
"All right. Try to slow your breathing if you can. We don't want you hyperventilating."
"Slow and steady," William instructed.
"William, is it? Why don't you wait outside?" Andrew said. "I'm just going to do a quick exam and
then we'll decide what to do."
"Take good care of her," he said. "That's my daughter-in-law."
"Yes. I will," Andrew replied.
to be continued...
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"I'm sorry, Michaela. I don't see any other choice at this point," Andrew said as he dried his hands
off on a towel.
Michaela clutched her belly and continued to pant as she looked up at him. The pain was as intense
as ever and despite how much she wished it hadn't come to this, being put under and having the
dilation and curettage procedure done seemed more and more necessary as each minute passed.
"Why don't I give you a dose of chloral hydrate?" he suggested as he walked to his medicine
cabinet. "It'll help relax you."
She managed a nod as he stirred some medicine into a glass and brought it over to her. She drank
it down quickly and then laid back.
"Then do I have your permission for this?" he asked.
"Yes," she said hoarsely. "Go ahead."
"It's going to work, Michaela," he said, patting her hand reassuringly. "You'll start feeling better very
soon."
Andrew walked out of his office and shut the door. William was waiting anxiously on the bench
outside, the baby in her basket beside him.
"I'm going to need to operate. Where's Sully?"
He stood up. "Still in town."
"We'll send one of Preston's employees to get him. In the meantime I'm going to go ahead and
start. Michaela's given me permission."
"Is it serious, doctor?"
"Well, it could be if she doesn't have this done right away."
"William?" Michaela called from inside.
William anxiously took a step forward and looked inside. "Could I see her before you begin?"
He nodded. "Quickly."
He tentatively walked into the office. Michaela was on her back in a hospital gown, her legs
strapped into stirrups and a tray of a variety of frightening instruments beside her. He tried not to
show how anxious he was about the whole thing as she reached her hand up to hold his.
"William, tell Sully it's going to be fine. It's a routine procedure."
"Yes, of course it's going to be fine. Of course," he replied unsteadily.
"The baby. You'll watch her for me? Reassure her?"
"Yes, she's just outside. She's asleep."
She squeezed his hand. "Tell Sully I'll be all right."
"Yes, I'll tell him. Hush now. Don't talk." He smoothed her hair and gave her brow a gentle kiss. "I'll
be waiting just outside, all right? I'll be just outside."
Sully galloped at full speed up to the Château clinic. He dismounted and ran up to William who was
holding the baby.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
"Still in surgery," William replied.
Sully tore off his gloves and paced restlessly. "I knew somethin' was wrong. I knew this was gonna
happen," he muttered.
"Michaela says not to worry. That it's routine."
He approached him and smoothed the baby's hair. "How's Eliza? How's she doin'?"
"She's fine. She's been sleeping the entire time."
"Mama's gonna be all right, sweet girl," Sully whispered, kissing her head. "She'll be all right." He
took the baby from William and rubbed her back. "Dorothy's gonna pick up the kids from school,
bring 'em out. Her ma, too."
"Oh, good."
Andrew opened the door, drying his hands on a towel. He glanced at Sully. "You're here. Good."
"How is she?"
"She's doing well. I'm sorry, I had to go ahead with the dilation and curettage without you. Michaela
gave her consent."
"It's all right. Do what ya need to do. Did it help?"
"Yes, it looks like it. There was a significant amount of tissue that I removed. You should start
noticing an improvement in the bleeding right away. I gave her some morphine. She can keep
taking it as needed until the pain subsides."
"What about infection? Michaela was worried this kinda thing was gonna cause an infection."
"Well, I took all the precautions I could. Just watch her carefully for the next few days. But I think
infection's unlikely. She'll be back on her feet in no time. In fact she could probably go home tonight
if she continues like this." Andrew clutched his arm. "Sully, I know this isn't what she would have
liked to see happen, but given the circumstances this is what she needed. There was just no
avoiding it."
"Yeah, I know. Thank you, Andrew."
"You're welcome. Would you like to see her?"
"Yeah, sure." He handed the baby back to William and followed Andrew inside.
Michaela was closing her eyes tiredly and resting on Andrew's examination table. Her legs were still
in stirrups and there was a basin with some bloody cloths on the table beside her that Sully tried not
to look at. She was covered by a thin sheet and there was a trace of sweat across her brow.
He crouched over her and clutched her hand, giving it a gentle kiss. Michaela immediately opened
her eyes.
"Hey. You're awake already," he said with relief. "Ya have a good sleep?"
"Wonderful," she muttered as Andrew began quietly gathering up his instruments and cleaning up
from the procedure.
He smiled softly and gave her hand another kiss. "Ya look good."
"I didn't want that done," she said hoarsely.
"Yeah, I know. Andrew said it just wasn't somethin' that could be helped. How ya feel?"
She grimaced. "Like I was just kicked in the stomach."
"Andrew's got ya on morphine, all right? You'll start feelin' better soon. Says ya can even come
home today."
"I'm sorry about all this, Sully." She sighed. "I just can't seem to get my body to cooperate."
"Shh, wasn't your fault," he whispered. For a brief moment he felt the same sense of doubt about
having another baby that he had often experienced throughout Michaela's difficult pregnancy.
Especially when she was in labor, crying out so fiercely and working so hard at times he didn't even
recognize her, he had many moments where he outright wished they had never gotten pregnant.
Even now that the baby was here, Michaela was still not fully recovered. It was difficult to watch
her go through all of this and not be able to do much for her. And he felt responsible, given how
much he had pressed her to have another baby after losing Jack. He had a feeling she never would
have even considered it had he not brought it up.
Michaela suddenly burst into a big smile as she looked past him. He turned around to see what she
was looking at. William was standing in the doorway cradling the sleepy baby.
"Oh, there she is. There's our little angel," Michaela whispered.
William smiled softly and carried her over. "This wee one wanted to give her mother a kiss." He
lowered the baby to Michaela's level.
"Mama's here, sweetheart," Michaela whispered, puckering her lips and kissing her little cheek.
"Mama's here. Don't worry. Don't worry. Grandpa has you. Grandpa will take good care of you."
"All right, time for you to get your rest," William said. "We'll wait outside."
She gave the baby one last kiss and then watched as William left the room.
Michaela seemed to nearly know what Sully was thinking. She squeezed his hand. "Sully, I'm so glad
we did this. I'm so glad we had her," she whispered reassuringly. "She's so beautiful. She makes me
so happy."
He felt a little better and wrapped his arm around her. "Yeah, me, too. Both of ya make me happy."
Sully helped Michaela carefully into bed and covered her up with the quilt from the end of their bed.
He laid Eliza beside her and Michaela held the baby close, leaned back against her pillows and
closed her eyes tiredly. It had taken quite some time to get her home, given how slowly and
gingerly she had to walk, and Sully wondered if she should have spent the night at Andrew's clinic
after all. But he knew she would recover a lot quicker if she were in the comfort of their own home.
Katie and Byron tucked the quilt securely around her and Red Eagle carefully poured a glass of
water, placing it on the nightstand.
"Want a storybook, Mama?" Katie asked. "I'll read to you. Mama? Mommy?"
"Not right now, sweetheart," she whispered hoarsely.
"How about a warm cloth for your belly?" Sully suggested. "That might feel good."
Michaela was too exhausted to answer. She kept her eyes closed and just held onto a portion of the
quilt.
"Come on, kids," Sully murmured. "Let's let Mama sleep."
"Why's Mama acting like that?" Byron asked as they filed into the hallway.
"It's all right. She's just real tired," Sully explained, leading them downstairs.
"Why did she get sick?" Katie asked worriedly.
He smoothed her hair. "Sometimes when ya have a baby ya get a tummy ache after. But Dr. Cook
made it better and now she just needs to rest and she'll be good as new. Can we be real quiet for
Mama the next couple days and let her sleep?"
"Don't worry. We'll be quiet, Pa," Red Eagle said.
Sully walked into the kitchen where Brian was wiping down the counters and Elizabeth was filling
the tea kettle at the pump.
"How's she doing?" Elizabeth asked as she placed the kettle on the stove.
"Asleep."
"Poor thing. I suppose she would rather sleep than have this cup of tea."
"Yeah, probably. I already talked to Horace. He says I can have tomorrow off."
"That's a good idea, Pa," Brian said. "I think Ma could use ya."
"And I'll be here all day as well," Elizabeth said. "We'll look after her together."
"I gotta pick up some supplies for my homestead tomorrow mornin', but I'll come by in the
afternoon and help out," Brian offered.
"What about baseball practice, Papa?" Red Eagle asked.
Sully folded his arms. "I'm gonna have to cancel practice, son. I'm sorry."
"Cancel it!" Byron exclaimed in disgust. "No, you can't! Papa, we have a game on Saturday!"
"We'll be fine," he said, squeezing his shoulder. "We can do without one practice."
He stomped his foot. "It's no fair. This is all the baby's fault!"
"Byron, don't be ridiculous," Elizabeth scolded. "It's no one's fault, and certainly not your sister's."
He crossed his arms sourly. "Yes it is. All 'cause of her Mama's tummy hurts. Papa, you can't stay
home! No!"
"Hey, maybe you should go on up to your room until ya can calm down," Sully said.
"No. I don't have to," he replied.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Elizabeth said. "Byron, don't talk back to your father."
"I'm not talkin' back," he retorted.
Sully pointed at the stairs. "You go upstairs right now and go to bed. You keep this up and you
won't go to your game on Saturday at all."
Byron scowled and ran up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door.
Elizabeth shook her head. "My goodness, he reminds me of Michaela at that age! That attitude is
identical."
"He's gonna have to learn we all have to work together and compromise, especially now," Sully
replied.
"Precisely," Elizabeth replied.
"Maybe we could have the baseball practice on another day," Red Eagle spoke up quietly. "When
Mama's feeling better."
Sully smiled softly. "Yeah, that's a good idea. You two wanna play some checkers before bed?"
"Yes, Papa," Katie said, grabbing his hand.
"Yeah, let's go," Red Eagle added.
Michaela was still sleeping soundly when Sully woke up at his usual early hour. The baby was
nestled in her arms sound asleep as well. Sully turned down the covers, carefully held Michaela's left
leg back and shifted up her nightgown with his other hand. The towel she was resting on was only a
little damp with some light blood. It was not nearly as bright red as before and there were no sign
of any blood clots. He reached across her for the bottle of carbolic acid and a cloth, dampened the
cloth liberally and then gently washed between her legs.
Michaela quickly roused at the coolness of the carbolic acid. She groaned softly. "Sully, what are you
doing?" she muttered.
He glanced up and wet the cloth again. "Andrew said we gotta check on the bleedin' real often and
wash ya. Looks a lot better. Thought I would let ya sleep."
She glanced down, mortified. "Sully, for God's sake," she replied, quickly shifting her nightgown
back down.
"What's wrong?"
"I can take care of this myself. Please, I'd prefer I do this from now on."
"Michaela, I don't mind," he replied. "I want to help."
She sighed. "Just give me a little dignity please. Now I know how my mother feels sometimes."
He shook his head in confusion. "Michaela, you're my wife."
"Well, wife or not I don't want you to see me like this, is that all right?"
"All right," he replied quietly. He handed her the cloth. "I'm sorry. Here, you can do it."
Her eyes welled with tears and she lowered her head and kissed the baby's cheek. "I'm sorry, Sully.
I just feel so out of control right now."
"You're gonna start feelin' a lot better real soon," he said reassuringly. "You just need to get lots of
rest, all right?"
"I'm so glad you're here supporting me," she murmured.
"Where else would I be?" he replied with a tender smile. He held her close and kissed her head.
"Why don't you go back to sleep? It's still early."
She gave him a soft kiss and closed her eyes tiredly. "Thank you, Sully. For everything."
William cantered up to the homestead where Sully was outside chopping wood at the stump. He
dismounted and limped over to him, holding a small bundle of wildflowers.
"Sully, good morning," he said as he approached him.
"Mornin'," Sully said, bringing his axe down hard on the log.
"How is she this morning?" he asked. "How's Michaela?"
"Doin' better."
"I brought her some flowers," he said. "I was hoping she would be up to visitors."
"She's not," he replied. "She's asleep."
"Oh," he murmured awkwardly. "Well, I'll come by another time." He glanced at the flowers. "Oh,
could you give these to her? Send her my best."
"Yeah, sure," Sully replied, stepping forward and taking the bouquet for him.
William got back on his horse and silently rode out to the road.
Sully quietly placed the vase of flowers on the nightstand. Michaela awoke from her nap and slowly
smiled at him.
"Oh, did you pick those?" she murmured. "They're beautiful."
"Ain't from me. William brought 'em by."
She glanced down at the baby sleeping beside her and lifted her into her arms. "William's here? I'd
like to see him. Thank him."
"He left. Told him you weren't up to visitors."
She sat up a little more in bed, disconcerted. "Yes I am. I can have visitors. Especially William."
He sat beside her. "Just think we better keep things quiet right now, all right?"
She sighed, rubbing the baby's back. "How's his ankle at least? Feeling better? I thought I told him
to stay off his feet."
"His ankle?" he murmured. "I didn't ask."
"Sully, you could have at least asked how he's doing," she scolded.
"Sorry, I'm a little too worried about you right now to think about his ankle," he said a little
impatiently.
"Were you rude to him?" she asked astutely. "You were, weren't you? Sully, after the way he was
there for me yesterday. Thank goodness he was. I don't know what I would have done without him.
We owe him a debt of gratitude."
"Shoulda been me takin' care of ya. Never shoulda let ya go home with him."
She gently touched his hand. "Is that what's bothering you? Sully, we didn't know this was going to
happen. And you came as soon as you could. You have no reason to feel guilty."
He stood. "From now on, I can take care of our family. We don't need his help."
"Sully, don't be stubborn," she replied.
"This ain't about bein' stubborn," he retorted. "I don't want him interferin' with you, our family,
that's all. Way I see it this is none of his concern. He's done enough." With that he walked out of
the room and shut the door.
Elizabeth leaned on her cane and walked into the sitting room where Michaela was just finishing the
last bit of broth in a bowl. She was in her nightgown and bathrobe and had her feet up on the
footstool, and the baby was asleep in her lap.
"Good, you ate all of that broth," Elizabeth remarked.
"Yes. It was good. Thank you."
Elizabeth picked up the tray and put it aside, then took a seat beside Michaela.
"Well, this rest will do you good. I think lots of rest in the beginning helps you recover more quickly.
It may seem counterintuitive but you'll actually be back on your feet faster."
"Thank you for trying to see the positive," Michaela said. "I'm having a difficult time."
"Of course I see the positive. I'm basically a positive person," Elizabeth remarked as she picked up a
reader resting on the table. "Whose is this? One of the children's?"
"That's Byron's. Oh, no, he forgot it. Teresa's not going to be happy." She heaved a sigh. "Sully told
me about last night. I don't know what to do with him."
"Byron? Clearly he's just feeling a little jealous, that's all."
"I know. I feel so terrible," she replied.
"Oh, don't. It's normal. Your sisters were all very jealous of you when you were born of course.
Though fortunately Byron doesn't seem quite as murderous as Marjorie and Claudette were."
"Murderous?" Michaela echoed with a soft chuckle. "They wanted to kill me?"
"No." She paused a moment. "At least, I don't think so."
"What did you do to help them not feel that way?" Michaela asked curiously.
"There wasn't a lot I could do. I just tried to give them as much attention as I could, let them know
they weren't being replaced. And they got over it, in time. Well, some of them at least."
Michaela stroked the baby's arm pensively. "Perhaps he could study with me tonight. Just he and I.
Give him some individual attention."
"Oh, Michaela, you're not up to that already," Elizabeth said. "No, Dr. Cook said you need to rest."
"I can do a little studying with him. That's not too arduous. Besides, he could come up to my
bedroom. That way I could still rest in bed."
"Well, if you think it will help. Yes, perhaps that's a good idea."
"Good. Tonight then."
Byron cuddled up with Michaela and clutched his arithmetic primer. He closed his eyes and
concentrated deeply. "Seven times four is twenty-eight. Seven times five is…thirty-five."
"Good," Michaela said.
"Seven times six is…" He opened his eyes and looked at the baby curled up asleep in Michaela's lap.
He reached out to rub her hand.
"Byron, focus," she said gently. "Seven times six."
"Thirty-six?" he guessed.
"That's six times six," she said, heaving a soft sigh. "Seven times six is forty-two."
"Oh. Forty-two. Seven times seven is…" He closed his eyes again. "I can't remember, Mama. I
forgot."
"Perhaps if you wrote them down, that would help you commit them to memory."
"I'll get my tablet," he said.
"Not tonight. It's getting late. You need to get to bed. You have baseball in the morning."
"But the test is Monday," he said. He looked up at her apprehensively. "What if I can't remember all
of them for the test?"
"Well, you'll just do your best," she said, putting her arm around him. "The important thing is you're
trying hard."
Sully opened the door with a cup of tea.
"I am trying, Mama," Byron whispered. "I wish I was smart like Katie. And you."
"Shh, of course you're smart," she admonished. "Just because you have to work a bit harder at
some things doesn't make you any less smart." She drew him into a comforting hug. It seemed no
matter what they tried Byron just couldn't get his multiplication tables straight. She felt helpless and
very frustrated. And she had no idea how he was going to get through his upcoming test when he
was still struggling to master the basics of multiplication. She thought about asking Teresa if he
could take the test at a later date, but she didn't want Byron to feel he was being singled out.
"I let those dandelion leaves steep awhile," Sully said quietly as he handed Michaela the teacup.
"Good. They're supposed to be very good for postpartum women," she replied.
"What's that mean, Mama?" Byron asked.
She smoothed his hair and took a sip of the bitter tea. "Well, it means I just had a baby."
"Oh. You better rest a lot. Havin' a baby was pretty hard," Byron remarked.
"I think ya best listen to your son," Sully said wryly.
Byron giggled. "Yeah, you have to listen to me now, Mama. Papa said."
"Oh, really? All right, off to bed with you," she replied, leaning forward and kissing his lips. "I love
you."
"I love you. Night," he replied, grabbing his book and heading out the door.
Michaela smiled at Sully and he grabbed her hand.
"See, I told ya he never stopped lovin' ya," he said.
She smiled wider as he shut the door. "I want to make a real effort to spend time with him
individually. I think it'll help him adjust to the baby."
"Didn't sound like studyin' was goin' too good," he murmured.
Her face fell and she shook her head. "I'm beginning to wonder if Claudette was right. She said we
should get him a tutor. Do you think perhaps Sarah might want to do it? She always did so well in
school."
"Michaela, I wish we could. But we'd never be able to pay her what she deserves. Wouldn't be fair
to her."
"I suppose you're right."
He sat on the bed. "You're doin' fine with him. He listens to ya, likes workin' with his mama. Ya
work good together."
"When we don't lose our patience with each other, I suppose. I'm afraid I would have made a lousy
teacher."
"But you'd be the prettiest teacher I ever met, that's for sure," he said, giving her a soft kiss. "Don't
know how I'd ever learn my lessons with you in the classroom."
She smiled at him wryly, then she glanced down at the baby. "She hasn't nursed in hours. Do you
think I should wake her up?"
He smoothed Eliza's hair pensively. "I don't know. Seems like she should sleep if she's tired, right?"
"She was on such a good schedule. Now suddenly she's as unpredictable as ever."
"She still not eatin' so good?" he asked.
"She certainly doesn't seem nearly as interested in nursing as she used to be. I don't know what to
make of it."
"She's fine. She'll wake up when she gets hungry enough," he said.
She reluctantly nodded. "You'd better get some sleep. You've got some coaching to do tomorrow."
"And you got some cheerin'," he replied, giving her another kiss and then sitting down to pull off his
boots.
"Ball two!" Loren shouted. Byron stepped back from the plate and took a practice swing. Elizabeth
and William clapped their hands and Dorothy wrote in her notebook.
"Well done, Byron," Elizabeth called.
"Wait for your pitch," Sully said from his team bench, holding a clipboard.
Elizabeth smiled at William. "I'm so glad you could join us, William. What do you think of baseball so
far?"
"It seems like a fun game," he said with a smile. "It reminds me of cricket."
"Cricket?" Dorothy questioned.
"It's a game I played in England as a boy. Though we never set up formal teams like these. I wish
we had. I would have loved something like this when I was their age. England has their own cricket
team and they travel all over the world."
"Cricket," Dorothy said. "Maybe you could tell me more about that sometime. I could write an article
for the Gazette."
Byron connected with the ball, sending a high pop fly to center field, and raced off to first base as
the crowd cheered. Michaela walked back toward the field and rejoined the spectators, taking a seat
between her mother and William. She carried the baby in her sling and gazed down at her
worriedly.
"Oh, Michaela. Byron's on first base," Dorothy said cheerfully.
"What's wrong, Michaela?" Elizabeth asked. "Are you feeling all right?"
"It's not me. It's the baby. I couldn't get her to nurse very long," she said quietly. "She only took
down a little."
"That's strange," Elizabeth replied. "She's always ravenous."
"Eliza all right?" William murmured.
Michaela lifted the baby out of the sling and rested her over her shoulder. "I'm not sure. She hasn't
been feeding very well lately."
"Oh, maybe it's just a little catarrh going around," Dorothy said sensibly. "My little ones were always
coming down with something."
"I'm sure that's all it is," she replied just as the last boy up to bat struck out and the game ended.
"Five to four," Elizabeth said. "We lost."
Sully jogged over to the spectators, the children behind him.
"Close one," Sully remarked.
"Did you see my hit, Mama?" Byron asked.
"Oh. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I missed it."
"Don't worry, Byron. I saw it. And so did William," Elizabeth told him.
"Oh, goodie. You saw it, Gran'pa?" Byron asked, grabbing his hand.
William took off his baseball cap and turned it backwards. "Every bit of it, son. You were a wonder."
"Thanks."
"She's not feeding well at all, Sully," Michaela whispered, turning the baby toward him. "She's acting
so strange."
"Think she's losin' more weight?" he asked worriedly.
"She is," she replied. "I just weighed her again. She lost another two ounces."
"Maybe she just needs to settle down at home," he suggested. "Then she'll nurse a little better."
"Yes, let's head home," she replied.
Michaela laid Eliza in her cradle in the sitting room and rubbed her belly worriedly. The baby seemed
a lot more interested in sleeping than nursing. She glanced at the clock, quickly calculating how long
it had been since her last feeding. Almost five hours, which seemed like a very long stretch of time
for an infant so young.
"Michaela, she's fine," Elizabeth spoke up from dining room table where she was working on sewing
a button on Brian's vest for his wedding.
"Why isn't she eating as much?" Michaela asked softly as she joined everyone at the table.
"Babies habits change just like that," Elizabeth said. "No cause for worry."
Michaela rested her hand on Katie's shoulder. She was reading a book and the boys were playing
checkers with Sully.
"It's past everyone's bedtime," she murmured.
"We're not done with our checker game," Byron protested, clutching a checker piece.
"We'll finish it tomorrow," Sully said. "You go on up. We'll come tuck ya in."
"Kiss your sister goodnight. Tell her you hope she gets better," Michaela instructed. She grabbed the
empty coffee cups on the table as the children headed over to the cradle. "Sweethearts?"
"Yes, Mama?" Katie replied.
"Let's all say an extra prayer for her tonight, all right? Ask God to please help her start eating and
gaining weight again."
"All right. We will," Red Eagle whispered.
Michaela brought the cups to the kitchen and Sully followed with the empty bowl of popcorn.
The children filed over to the cradle. Katie crouched down first, kissing the baby's head and cheeks.
"Get better. Get better, baby sister," she whispered.
"Get better soon," Red Eagle said, squatting beside her and kissing the baby's cheek. "I love you.
Get better, baby Eliza. We'll say a prayer. A big one."
Byron just looked in the cradle a moment solemnly, then spun around and headed upstairs.
Red Eagle and Katie quickly followed after him.
"You didn't kiss the baby," Red Eagle said in disbelief as they headed up.
"I don't have to if I don't want to," Byron replied.
"Mama said to kiss her and tell her to get better," Katie added. "You didn't do what Mama said."
"I don't have to. And I don't have to say a prayer neither," he muttered as he reached his door.
Katie's mouth dropped open. "Byron! I'm telling Mama!" she exclaimed.
"She won't care. She just cares about Eliza." He opened his door and headed to the dresser to get
his nightshift.
"Don't you….don't you like the baby?" Katie murmured.
"Nope," he said. "Hate her."
"Byron, you can't say that! It's mean!" Red Eagle protested.
He unbuttoned his shirt. "Go ahead and tell. See if Mama listens. She's too busy with Eliza."
Katie swallowed hard, then shared a glance with Red Eagle and silently headed for her bedroom.
Michaela pressed her stethoscope to Eliza's chest. She had the baby stripped down to her diaper
and was examining her on the vanity. Sully was washing up at the basin and getting ready for bed.
He dried his chest with a towel and joined her at the vanity.
"Her heart sound all right?"
"Yes, just fine." She put her stethoscope aside and then pressed her hands to the baby's abdomen,
gently pushing down and carefully feeling her tiny organs for anything out of the ordinary. She
straightened and sighed. "I can't find a thing wrong. Aside from the weight she's been losing she
seems like a perfectly healthy infant to me. This doesn't make sense."
"Maybe it's her diaper rash," Sully suggested. "If she ain't feelin' good that might explain why she
don't have much of an appetite these days."
"I suppose that could be. We have that meeting with Teresa tomorrow about Byron. Do you think
we should cancel?"
"Teresa Slicker won't appreciate that."
She slipped the baby's nightshift over her head and threaded her little arms through the sleeves.
"You're probably right. Perhaps I could leave her here with Mother. It would only be for a few
hours. I'd prefer her with me, but I don't care to drag her into town and back when she's not
feeling well."
He smoothed the baby's shift down over her back. "I think that's a good idea. She should stay here
with your ma where she can rest." He lifted her off the vanity and cuddled her against his chest. "I'll
rock her to sleep. You get changed."
Michaela kissed the baby's head. "Get well soon, Eliza. I'm sorry you don't feel well."
"Come on, let's go rock in the chair," Sully whispered lovingly. "You gotta get a good night's sleep
so ya can start feelin' better, all right?"
Michaela watched the baby worriedly for a moment as Sully sat in the rocker with her, then turned
to the mirror and began unbuttoning her blouse.
to be continued...
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Sully opened the schoolhouse door and guided Michaela inside. Teresa was grading papers at her
desk and looked up as they walked down the aisle.
"Sully, Dr. Quinn, thank you for coming," Teresa said. "Please, have a seat."
They sat on the bench in the front row and looked up at her expectantly.
Teresa put her pen aside and folded her hands on her desk. "I called this meeting today because
I'm very concerned about Byron."
"I know he's still struggling with his arithmetic," Michaela said. "We're trying to help him improve."
"It's not just arithmetic. He's not doing very well in reading, writing or spelling. We're coming to the
end of the term where I am forced to make important decisions."
"Decisions?" Sully echoed.
"Yes. Byron has been trying very hard. I am very impressed by his effort. But unfortunately I'm just
not sure that he is ready for the third grade."
"What are you saying? You're saying he should be held back?" Michaela asked. "No. No, I assure
you that's not necessary."
Teresa opened her ledger and got up, handing it to them. "As you can see, he has been struggling
the entire term."
Michaela and Sully looked at the row of grades beside Byron's name. He had a few B's in his best
subjects, but everything else was cluttered with C's, D's and even some failing marks. Michaela
knew school was harder for Byron than it was for the other children, but she hadn't realized he had
collected this many poor marks this term. She glanced at Sully with surprise.
Teresa folded her hands in front of her. "I will not keep a student back without the permission of his
parents. But as his teacher I don't think he's ready for the next grade. I strongly recommend he
repeat the material next term."
"Well, he just, he's having a little trouble adjusting to the new baby," Michaela explained fleetingly.
"That's all this is."
Teresa glanced at the ledger. "Perhaps, but this problem has been going on for some time. He has
always been struggling."
Michaela shook her head desperately. "Mrs. Slicker, you can't do this to him. He's going to be
devastated if Red Eagle moves on without him. No, I forbid this."
"Michaela, maybe we should at least talk about this," Sully said quietly. "Holdin' him back might be
the best thing for him."
"No. No, I'll work with him all summer. I'll study with him all day if I have to. Anything so he can
move on with his brother."
"As I said, the final decision is up to you," Teresa said.
"When do ya need to know by?" Sully asked.
"Next week when I distribute report cards," she replied. "Dr. Quinn, I know this may seem like very
bad news right now. But when I've held a student back in the past it's always been the right thing.
Sometimes some students just need an extra year to catch up. They always do fine after that."
"The decision's been made, Mrs. Slicker," Michaela replied, standing up. "He's moving on at the end
of the term." She spun around and headed toward the door and Sully followed after her quietly.
"It's his teacher," Michaela remarked as Sully headed the wagon toward home.
"Michaela, it ain't the teacher," Sully said.
"Yes it is. She's always singled him out. She's always been hard on him."
"Why's it always Teresa's fault? Why ya always blame her?"
"Because it is her fault. She's wanted to fail him since he started school."
He slapped the reins. "Maybe she's got her reasons. Ya ask me I don't think she would be doin' this
she didn't think this was the best thing for him."
She sighed and suddenly her eyes welled with tears. "Oh, Sully, I want to do what's best for him.
Perhaps this is the right thing for him. But how will we ever tell him Katie and Red Eagle get to
move on to the next grade and he has to repeat a grade?"
He put his arm around her, swallowing hard. "I don't know."
"This is going to break his heart," she said, swiping at her tears.
He gave her head a gentle kiss. "Let's think on it a few days, before we make any big decisions, all
right?"
She nodded and held his hand.
Michaela heard the baby crying as soon as Sully pulled the wagon up to the porch.
"Oh, no," she said, quickly climbing down and hurrying inside.
Elizabeth was sitting at the table rocking Eliza. The infant was screaming distraughtly, her face
bright red. Red Eagle was covering his ears, Katie was holding out her doll for the baby to look at
and Byron was shaking a rattle.
"What happened?" Michaela said, tearing off her jacket and dropping it on the table.
Elizabeth glanced up. She was looking rather distressed after a very long morning. Even having
raised five rather willful children hadn't prepared her for this. "I have no idea. She just started
crying shortly after you left and hasn't stopped since. I've never seen anything like this. Poor thing's
got to be exhausted."
"She's been crying this whole time?" Michaela said. She reached for the baby and settled her in her
arms. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. Did you miss Mama?" She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and
offered the baby her breast. Eliza latched on and quieted instantly.
Red Eagle uncovered his ears, sighing with relief. "She was loud, Mama. Whoa. We didn't know what
to do."
"I'm sorry about that. Thank you for trying to help her."
Sully came in just as Eliza lost her hold and fussed again, tossing her head. She let out a decisive,
rather frightening yelp.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Michaela said desperately. "Here, you need to have some more. You'll
feel better." She had to nearly force the baby to her breast and hold her head there firmly for Eliza
to stay latched on for more than a few seconds.
"She all right?" Sully asked, hanging up their jackets.
"Apparently she had a rough morning," Michaela said.
"Really rough!" Byron remarked. "What'd the teacher say about me, Mama?"
Michaela met his eyes, swallowing hard. "Um, well, she…we'll talk about it later, all right,
sweetheart?"
He nodded agreeably. "All right. Good girl, Eliza. Eat so you don't cry anymore."
Brian walked toward the church, holding a telegram with a pleased smile.
"Brian!" Sarah called, standing impatiently at the base of the stairs. "We're late! Hurry!"
He quickened his pace a little. "Sorry. A telegram just came from Ethan." He handed it to her. "He's
comin'. He's comin' out for the weddin'."
She gave it a glance and handed it back. "That's nice."
"Couldn't ya at least try to be happy for me, just a little?" he asked.
"I am. Very happy. I suppose we'll have to just hope he doesn't ruin everything."
"Sarah, come on," he said impatiently. "Why do ya have to do that?"
"You know exactly how I feel about inviting him, Brian," she said firmly. "And I'm not going to
apologize for how I feel. He's not going to be my father-in-law. Sully is."
"I never said he had to be your father-in-law. When did I say that? I didn't say that."
"You're implying it," she replied, spinning around and heading up the stairs.
"You tellin' me I can't see my own pa?" he said, following her up the stairs.
"No. I'm telling you I strongly disagree. We've kept the Reverend waiting long enough. Come on."
"I could think of a lot of other things I could be doin' out at our new homestead while we're havin'
these marriage sessions."
"Brian, you know we have to go. All couples go. The Reverend won't marry us otherwise."
"Just seems like a waste of time," he muttered, trudging up the stairs.
"If you're such an expert on marriage then why don't you run the sessions? We'll just tell the
Reverend we don't need him anymore."
A little smile escaped his lips and he chuckled softly, opening the door for her. "No, I'm no expert."
She grinned despite herself. "Good, then let's get started."
"Hold him back! No, absolutely not!" Elizabeth exclaimed, putting the Gazette aside and looking up
at Michaela in shock. "You can't be considering this."
"Well, no, not really," Michaela murmured.
"Thought we said we're gonna at least think about it," Sully spoke up.
"She's out to get him, Sully," Elizabeth said. "Always has been."
Sully was pacing with the baby near the hearth. Eliza had continued to fuss all day and had never
really settled down. She screamed if she wasn't being held. Michaela, Elizabeth and Sully had been
rocking her and walking the rooms with her for hours to try to settle her.
"I think it's just easier to blame it on his teacher," he murmured. "Then we don't have to take any
blame."
"What?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Oh, this is our fault now?"
"I ain't sayin' that. But maybe we been overlookin' his troubles in school hopin' they would just get
better on their own."
"The only thing we've overlooked is how incompetent that teacher is," she retorted. "I should fire
her for this."
"School board is in charge of the teacher, not you, Elizabeth," Sully said.
"Well, good thing my daughter is on the school board!" she said. "The point is this is all that
Mexican's fault. She doesn't know what she's doing. We expect her to teach him the English
language when she hasn't even mastered it herself?"
"Mother, she speaks perfect English," Michaela protested softly.
"I thought you were on my side!" Elizabeth cried.
"Well, I am. I think," she murmured.
"If she's such a bad teacher how do you explain how Red Eagle and Katie do so good in school?"
Sully asked.
She paused. "I don't know. Luck," she muttered. "Why are you defending her anyway, Sully? Since
when do you prefer Mrs. Slicker over your own family?"
"Don't be silly. Course not."
"Well, let's not make any rash decisions," Michaela spoke up diplomatically. "I think Sully's right that
we should at least think on this a few days."
"You two can think on it. I already know how I feel," she replied intrepidly, picking up the Gazette
again and shaking it hard to straighten it.
Eliza let out a little snivel and rapidly started crying.
"Michaela," Sully called. "Think she wants to nurse."
"I just tried, Sully. She wasn't hungry," she said. She joined him at the hearth and took the baby
from him. "Oh, sweetheart, what is it?"
The baby whimpered restlessly and tossed her head.
"Perhaps a warm bath would settle her down," Elizabeth said. "That always helped you when you
were a baby and were fussy."
Michaela nodded and kissed the baby's head.
"I'll heat some water," Sully said, squeezing Michaela's shoulder and heading to the kitchen.
Michaela rocked anxiously in the rocking chair and held the baby against her breast, desperately
trying to get her to latch on. The baby had fed for about a minute and then started crying, refusing
to latch on again. She hadn't settled down for a good long feeding in three days, and now Michaela
was really getting worried.
"Come on, sweetheart," she coaxed, tickling the baby's cheek to get her to open her mouth. "Come
on, aren't you hungry?"
Sully entered the room after finishing the chores for the night.
"Sully, now she won't eat at all," she said frantically.
Sully walked to her side and felt the baby's head. "She sick? She doesn't feel warm."
"She spits up everything. But I took her temperature. No fever. And no other symptoms. She sighed
and again tried to guide the baby's lips to her breast, but Eliza would have none of it. "Nursing was
going so well up until now. I don't understand this."
"Some babies have trouble with it, right?" he replied.
She sighed and nodded. Katie and Jack had nursed just fine when they were infants, but Byron was
a different story. At first he didn't even seem all that interested in the breast, and when he finally
started feeding he wouldn't latch on properly, refusing to open his mouth very wide and causing
Michaela a great deal of pain. And his poor suckling resulted in him taking in a lot of air, which
made him terribly irritable after every feeding. It took time and patience to get him nursing
properly. But he had never had the same kind of dramatic weight loss that was happening to Eliza.
He somehow managed to get enough milk into him to grow, and he eventually caught on to the
process a little better.
"Sully, I think we should try bottle feeding her," she said unsteadily. "At least with a bottle I would
be able to monitor exactly how much she's eating. I couldn't begin to guess how much breast milk
she's kept down over the past few days. All I know is it hasn't been very much."
"Ya wanna give her infant food?"
"There could be something wrong with my milk. She's losing far too much weight."
He wrinkled his brow. "You sure it's that? Nothin' wrong with your milk before."
"Perhaps she's developed some kind of allergy to it. I don't know what to think, what to do. I
suppose I could try expressing some milk and putting it in a bottle. But she might not want it that
way either."
"Let's try both. I'll ride out to Loren's and get some infant food and some bottles for her first thing
tomorrow mornin'."
Tears welled in her eyes and she cuddled the baby close. "I never intended to wean her so soon. I
wanted to breastfeed for several more months. I feel so terrible."
"It'll be all right. Lots of babies do fine on the bottle. Sides, this way I can help ya feed her." He
gave her temple a reassuring kiss. "I can get up for those two o'clock feedings now and you can
sleep. Bet that sounds good."
She was too distraught to be amused. She got up and paced in front of the fireplace, rubbing the
baby's back. "Oh, sweetheart. Mama and Papa are going to make it better, all right? Whatever this
is."
Michaela glanced at the clock again as she rocked anxiously with the baby. Sully stood by and
watched, growing increasingly more worried as every hour passed. Eliza had been crying all night,
her little eyes moist with tears and her face flushed. She was so distraught she had developed the
hiccups, and her whole body wracked violently with them. Sully and Michaela were exhausted trying
to comfort her, but neither wanted to even think about resting until they knew the baby was all
right.
"Maybe ya should try nursin' her again," Sully said.
"I've tried, Sully," she protested hoarsely.
Eliza hiccupped again forcefully and screamed all the harder.
"Shh, shh," Michaela soothed, rubbing her back. "Oh, my darling."
"Just try again, Michaela. Please," he said helplessly.
Michaela reached her hand up and unbuttoned her nightgown, guiding the baby to her breast. But
the baby wanted nothing to do with it, and just kept crying and hiccupping and tossing her head.
"I told you," Michaela said. "She doesn't want it."
"Come on, sweet girl. Pretty girl. Ya gotta eat," Sully whispered. He squatted down and held her
head gently between his hands, trying to keep her from moving. "Put your breast to her mouth. I'll
keep her still," he instructed.
Michaela reached her hand up skeptically and tried to guide her nipple between the baby's lips, but
Eliza didn't want it and just kept crying. "Sully, this won't work. We can't force it on her," she
protested.
"Michaela, we gotta do somethin'. How long can she go without food?" he asked anxiously.
Seeing Sully suddenly so panicked was making Michaela very distraught. She had been relatively
calm and optimistic about Eliza's failing health until Sully lost it. Now she was desperate for the baby
to get better and absolutely sick with worry, just as he was. "I don't know. It's never a good thing
for a baby to not be eating like this."
He got up and crossed the room, grabbing a shirt out of the drawer and buttoning it up.
"Where are you going?" Michaela asked.
"Gonna go get Loren and get some of that infant food right now." He found his boots and quickly
pulled them on.
"Sully, don't wake him up."
"What else can we do? By the time I get to town it'll be close to morning anyway."
She glanced down at the baby and nodded. "All right. Tell him I'm sorry. And thank him for me."
He leaned down and kissed her reassuringly ."I'll be back soon as I can."
"What in tarnation?" Loren exclaimed as he walked down the stairs in his nightshift and bathrobe.
Sully pounded hard on his door again.
"Loren, open the door!" he shouted.
"I'm openin' it, I'm openin' it," he grumbled. He unlocked the door and threw it open. "Sully, you're
gonna wake half the town with all this racket. It's four in the mornin'!"
"Loren, sorry to wake ya up. We need some infant food."
"Now?" he blurted with a scowl. "This couldn't wait until mornin'?"
"The baby's sick. She won't eat. Michaela wants to try infant food."
His expression changed to deep concern. "What's wrong with her?"
"We ain't sure," he murmured, swallowing. "All we know is she hasn't eaten in three days."
"Well, sure, Sully. Sure. I'll get it for you right away. Come on in." He guided him inside and shut
the door, then gave his shoulder a reassuring pat and went off to his shelves to find the infant food.
"Finish up," Sully said as he put a pile of breakfast dishes in the sink. "We're gonna be late."
Elizabeth wiped Byron's mouth with his napkin and smoothed down his hair. "Go get your
schoolbooks and say goodbye to your mother."
"Mama's not comin' with us?" Red Eagle asked, heading to the coat rack.
"She's goin' into the clinic later today," Sully explained.
Katie walked into the sitting room and found Michaela in the wingback chair, tiredly bottle feeding
the baby.
"Bye, Mama," she said. She paused, gazing at the two of them astutely. "Why does Eliza have a
bottle now? What's wrong with her?"
Michaela glanced up. "Nothing," she murmured. "We're just going to try a bottle for a little bit."
"Bye, Mama," Byron called, picking up his lunch pail.
"Bye, baby sister," Red Eagle added.
"Have a good day," Michaela called back.
Katie stroked the baby's head. "Can I feed her? I know how to hold the bottle."
Michaela glanced up. "Next time, all right, sweetheart? You need to get to school. Kiss your sister
goodbye."
Katie crouched down and kissed her head. "Bye-bye."
"Get in the wagon. I'll be right there," Sully said, grabbing his jacket and walking toward Michaela
as Elizabeth joined them. "How's she doin'?"
"She's eating a little," Michaela said. "About three ounces so far."
"She'll eat that whole thing, you'll see," he said. "I'll send Brian back with the wagon so ya can drive
it to work, all right?"
She nodded.
He leaned down and kissed her. "See ya soon."
"Have a good day," she replied, shifting the baby up over her shoulder and patting her back as Sully
headed out the door.
"Well, she looks good this morning," Elizabeth said. "I think it must have been just a little upset
tummy."
"I feel like I'm confusing her," Michaela said guiltily. "Switching her to the bottle so suddenly like
this."
"She doesn't look confused to me. I think she likes her bottle."
"I suppose," Michaela murmured. "What do you think, sweetheart? You want to try a little more?"
Suddenly the baby grunted and spit up onto the burping cloth.
Michaela rubbed her back helplessly. "Oh, no. Oh, little baby."
The baby suddenly started crying, then seconds later spit up a lot more.
Elizabeth quickly grabbed another cloth to help. "Oh, dear. My goodness, Miss Eliza. You're not
feeling very well, are you?"
The baby cried harder, her face reddening, as Elizabeth tried to dry her off with the cloth.
"You've got some of it on your blouse, Michaela," she said. "I'll start a bath for her. You go up and
change."
"Mother, what's wrong with her?" Michaela asked, tearfully passing the baby to her and standing
up.
"She has an upset tummy, that's all."
"Why is she losing weight?" She shook her head. "I examined her thoroughly the other day. I can't
find anything."
"Perhaps you should talk to Dr. Cook. Get a second opinion," Elizabeth suggested.
She nodded. "Yes, I think you're right. We should talk to him."
"Go change, dear," Elizabeth instructed. "I have her."
Michaela pulled the wagon up to the telegraph office and climbed down, lifting the baby out of the
basket on the floor. She carried her around the back where she found Sully and Kirk measuring a
board on a sawhorse and William up on a ladder nailing a board.
"Sully," she called urgently.
Sully put the tape measure aside and walked toward her. "What's wrong? How's she doin'?"
"Not well at all," Michaela said, rubbing the baby's back. "She can't keep down any of the infant
food. She spat up everything. And she doesn't want my milk in a bottle either."
Sully stroked the baby's head. She was making soft little noises of discontent, balling up her fist
against her cheek.
"Mother thinks we should take her to see Andrew," Michaela went on. "See what he thinks."
"That ain't a bad idea."
"And we could examine my milk as well," she added. "His stethoscope is a lot more powerful than
mine."
"Let me talk to Horace, see if he'll let me off right now."
She nodded and shifted the baby to her other shoulder as Sully walked inside the telegraph office.
William climbed down from the ladder. "Still not feeding too well?" he asked.
Michaela shook her head and rocked the baby soothingly. The baby let out a tiny whimper and
tossed her head.
"There, there, Eliza," William murmured. "It'll be all right."
"Take all the time you need, Sully," Horace said as he stepped out of the telegraph office. "We can
hold off things here until you get back."
"Thanks, Horace. Appreciate this." He shook with him and then he approached his workers. "We're
gonna call it a day for now. I'll make up the pay you're missin' to ya."
"No need for that, Sully," Kirk immediately said, dropping his hammer in his toolbox. "Just go get the
baby checked out and don't worry about a thing."
"Yes, no need for that," William added.
"Let us know how you make out," Kirk added.
"Thanks," Sully replied gratefully, putting his arm around Michaela and heading back to the wagon.
Andrew listened to Eliza's chest with his stethoscope, leaning over the examination table in the
center of his clinic. Michaela and Sully were waiting impatiently close by, watching his every move.
"What happens when you feed her the infant food?" Andrew asked.
"She doesn't like it. She spits up most of it," Michaela said.
"Seems like she's always spittin' up," Sully said nervously.
"Almost after every feeding," Michaela added. "Some babies do that. I never thought anything of it
before."
Andrew tenderly pushed on her belly, feeling for anything out of the ordinary. The baby was
stripped down to her diaper and calmly suckling her fingers, enduring the examination patiently.
"Does she sleep a lot? Is she lethargic?"
Michaela shrugged. "I don't know. She's a baby. She sleeps a lot."
He straightened. "Failure to thrive can mean so many things. Something wrong with the liver, or a
gastrointestinal problem. Or some kind of infection."
"What about leukemia?" Michaela whispered fearfully.
Sully put his arm around her, face falling.
"Michaela, that's very rare in infants," Andrew said dismissively.
"Oh, my God," she said, eyes welling with tears.
Sully gripped her tightly. "She's gonna be all right," he murmured helplessly.
Andrew stepped toward them. "Michaela, Sully, I don't think we should panic just yet. It's just too
soon to tell right now."
"What do you think we should do?" Michaela asked.
"I'd go back to nursing her first. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with your milk that we
can tell. And at least she seems to be keeping it down better than the infant food."
"All right," she said, reaching out and stroking the baby's head.
"Then what?" Sully asked.
"Well, I'd say at this point you need to take her to a specialist. A pediatrician. What about
Dr. Patterson in Denver? He's the best pediatrician around."
Michaela glanced at Sully for approval. He immediately nodded his consent. A pediatrician was sure
to be expensive, and it was going to be difficult to pay for it, but he didn't care. The important thing
was they find out what was wrong with their child. Everything else they could worry about later.
"We'll take the next train out of here in the mornin'," he said. "We'll take her to Denver."
Michaela picked up the baby and held her close. "Thank you Andrew."
"I didn't do much. Let me know as soon as you know anything more."
"Who's gonna stay with us?" Red Eagle asked curiously as the family gathered around the dining
room table.
"Your gran'ma. And Brian," Sully said sensibly, leaning against the table with his arm around Byron.
"Don't worry, kids," Brian said reassuringly. "We'll be fine."
"But what about when you're at the Gazette, or building your house?" Red Eagle questioned.
"Then you'll be home with me," Elizabeth said, rubbing his back. "We'll be just fine."
Michaela was sitting at the head of the table rubbing the baby's back. "I'm hoping we won't be gone
too long. The doctor's going to take a look at her, perhaps give her some medicine, and we can
come right home."
"But I thought you were the doctor," Red Eagle said.
"This is a special doctor called a pediatrician who knows a lot about babies. More than Mama does,"
Michaela explained. "I'm sure he's seen this very same thing many times before and will know
exactly what it is." She glanced at Katie. The little girl was bowing her head and struggling with all
her might to hold back tears. "Oh, Katie. Sweetheart, come here."
Katie scurried to her and hugged her tightly.
"Shh. It's going to be all right," Michaela said.
"I just don't want her to die," she choked. "I don't want her to die like my brother did."
"She's gonna be fine, Kates," Sully said unsteadily, stroking her hair.
"I know this is frightening," Michaela said. "Mama's frightened, too. But we're doing everything we
can taking her to Denver and making sure she sees the best doctor around. Hm?"
Katie nodded slowly.
"I need you to be a brave girl. You'll be good for Grandma and be patient while we're gone, won't
you?"
"Yes, Mama," she said, rubbing away her tears.
"Good girl."
Someone knocked on the door and Sully opened it.
"Sully," William said, removing his hat. "I just…I was worried about the wee one. I wanted to see
how she was doing."
"William, come in," Michaela said.
"Gran'pa," Byron called, running to his side. "Eliza's sick. She's gotta go see a pee-trician."
"We're taking her to Denver on tomorrow's train," Michaela said. "We think another doctor should
see her."
"I want Gran'pa to stay with us," Katie spoke up firmly. "I want him to sleep over while you're in
Denver."
"Oh, child, I couldn't, I-" William replied.
"Please?" she said, hugging his waist tightly. "I'm scared. I want you to stay with us, help Gran'ma
take care of us."
Michaela glanced at Elizabeth questioningly.
"I think that's a good idea," Elizabeth remarked. "Having a man around to watch the homestead
when Brian's not here."
"I'd be happy to stay," William said, gently patting Katie's back. "But only if it's all right with your
parents."
Michaela looked at Sully and he gave her a small nod. As much as he resented William for
everything that happened when he was a boy, the truth was it would make everyone feel better if
someone as strong and capable as William was staying with the children and looking after the
homestead.
"Thank you, William," Michaela said. "It would be wonderful if you could stay."
Katie hugged William tighter.
"All right then," he replied quietly, picking up Katie and tenderly patting her back.
"Here's a list of groceries we need," Michaela said, handing a piece of paper to Brian. "Ask Mr. Bray
to put it on our account."
"Sure, Ma."
"Sarah can come over for supper if you'd like. As long as your grandmother or grandfather is home."
"Thanks."
Sully was beside her tenderly cradling the baby. Eliza had been sleeping all evening and wasn't
interested in eating at all. The younger children quietly watched Michaela worry and fuss over all her
lists.
"Oh, and Mr. Avery's coming by tomorrow to check on the cow in the morning. Make sure someone
is home," Michaela said.
"I'll be home," Elizabeth said. "Don't worry. Now it's getting late and everyone needs to get to bed.
Especially you two. You have a big day tomorrow."
"Mama and Papa are going to be leaving very early tomorrow while you're still asleep so we can
catch our train," Michaela explained unsteadily. "Say goodbye to your sister tonight, all right?"
Katie and Red Eagle walked over and gently kissed her and smoothed her hair.
"Don't worry, Eliza. Don't worry," Red Eagle murmured.
Katie choked up again and gave her another kiss.
"You're my brave girl, remember?" Michaela whispered.
Katie nodded and took a deep breath to keep herself together.
Byron tentatively approached and studied the baby carefully. "The pee-trician. The special baby
doctor. He's going to make her better, Mama? Right?" he whispered.
"Of course he will," Elizabeth said. "We have nothing to worry about."
Byron gave Eliza a soft kiss on her cheek, gazed at her a moment longer, and then headed upstairs
after Katie and Red Eagle. He lingered in the stairwell unnoticed.
Michaela took the baby from Sully and rubbed her back. Her eyes welled with tears. "That could be
the last time they see her."
"Hush, don't be silly," Elizabeth said.
The tears slipped down her cheeks. "No. She's going to die. I feel it. A mother knows."
"Ma, she'll be all right," Brian spoke up reassuringly.
She rocked the baby as Sully held her close. "Michaela, we gotta have hope. We gotta trust that
doctor is gonna know what to do," he said.
"Oh, God, we can't lose her, Sully," she whimpered. "We can't."
"We're not gonna," he said tearfully as Elizabeth got up to hold Michaela, and Brian rubbed her
back. "We're not gonna."
Byron stared forward, stunned, as he listened to the adults comfort each other. He shook his head
and swallowed hard. "Eliza," he whispered. "I didn't mean it. Please don't die. Please."
"You said she's back on breast milk?" Dr. Patterson asked as he ran his hands carefully down the
baby's left leg and then her right.
"Yes," Michaela replied. "Just since yesterday."
"Let's take her off it again. I think I'd like to put her on a feeding tube for a little while."
"Feeding tube? But we examined my milk in Colorado Springs. It seemed fine." Michaela said. The
idea of any tubes attached to her little one was more than she could bear. She felt Sully's hand on
her back reassuringly.
"I don't want to rule anything out just yet," the doctor replied. "May I take a look inside your mouth,
Eliza? Would that be all right?" He gently pried open the baby's lips and peered inside. Then he held
her little hands out in front of him and stretched out her fingers, scrutinizing them closely.
"You're being such a brave girl," Michaela said soothingly, reaching her hand out to caress the
baby's head. "Just a little longer."
The doctor selected a sharp lancet from his tray of instruments and grabbed the baby's leg.
"Wait. What's that?" Sully asked.
"I'm just going to prick her foot so we can get a sample of her blood." He quickly scraped the sole
of her foot with the sharp tool and the baby wailed in response.
"Oh. Shh. Shh," Michaela said, tears welling in her eyes as she stroked her head. "I'm sorry. Oh.
Oh."
"Just one moment here, Eliza," the doctor said, gripping her foot firmly and collecting a few drops of
blood in a thin beaker. "There we are, my dear. All done."
"All done. All done," Michaela echoed tearfully. She stooped and kissed the baby's flushed forehead.
The baby just continued to cry distraughtly, balling up her hands in fists. "Shh, angel. Mama's here.
It's all over. It's over." Michaela kissed her head several times and the baby slowly calmed down a
bit under her mother's loving touch.
Dr. Patterson cleaned her foot off with some cotton and then opened a medical chart, making
copious notes.
"Ya got any idea what it is?" Sully asked.
"I'm not sure yet. Though I think I should prepare you. I've seen similar symptoms in infants before.
Sometimes it can be an indication of…" He paused, taking a deep breath and lowering the chart.
"Of what?" Michaela demanded.
"Here, let's take a seat," he said, walking to the bench nearby. "Please."
Michaela and Sully reluctantly sat on the bench and the doctor pulled over a chair to sit in front of
them.
"I know this is not what you were hoping to hear," he said, "but I'm afraid I have a strong suspicion
it could be Mongolism."
Michaela stared at him in shock, then looked at the baby.
"What's that?" Sully demanded fearfully. Whatever it was he could tell by the look of sheer
devastation on Michaela's face it was very serious.
He put the chart aside. "Well, it's…it's a form of mental impairment children are born with. There
could be something wrong with her brain. She may have been born with some kind of intellectual
disorder," he said gently. "We tend to see a lot more instances of this in older mothers. The
pregnancy, was it normal?"
Michaela tried to gather her thoughts. "I don't know. What do you mean?"
"She had some bad mornin' sickness," Sully spoke up helpfully. "Ended up on bed rest the last
couple weeks."
"I had toxemia," Michaela added softly.
"I see." He wrote down the information on his chart. "You weren't ill otherwise? Tuberculosis?"
"Tuberculosis? No, of course not," Michaela replied.
He wrote down a few more notes. "How many weeks gestation were you when you delivered?"
Michaela couldn't think straight. She looked at Sully helplessly.
"Thirty-six?" he said. "Maybe thirty-seven."
"Almost thirty-seven," she echoed hoarsely.
"Hmm. Also seen more often in premature infants. And did the baby breathe right away when she
was born? Her vitals were good?"
"Yes, right away," Michaela said, tears slipping down her cheeks. "She was fine. She was perfect."
"She looked real good. Breathed right away," Sully murmured.
"It's just, babies who don't feed very well, who are on the small side like this….have you noticed the
way she tends to stick out her tongue? That can sometimes be a sign. Or it could be just something
she does."
"Her tongue?" Michaela choked, still in shock.
"Of course, she's not showing all the symptoms. Her appendages look proportionate, and her face
seems normal. But these things are very hard to diagnose in newborns." He cleared his throat. "I
have a medical textbook that might explain all this a little easier for you. If you'd like I'll find it for
you."
Michaela was so stunned she couldn't even speak. She had prepared herself for bad news, but she
had never considered that her baby might not be completely normal cognitively. She suddenly
began going over every moment of the newborn's short life thus far, racking her brain for clues that
there might be something wrong. Perhaps her heart rate had dipped during the delivery, perhaps
during the contractions when Michaela was far too caught up in the pain to be able to put a
stethoscope in her ears and listen to what the baby was doing. If the heartbeat dropped enough
times she supposed it could be sufficient to have done permanent damage. She suddenly felt sorely
inadequate for not monitoring the baby better. The pain had been so intense and it was a struggle
to focus on anything but getting through it. But she could have told Sully to listen to her belly
during a contraction and count the beats.
"Perhaps something did happen when she was born," she said unsteadily.
"Michaela, we did the best we could," Sully said reassuringly.
"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Dr. Patterson said. "I want to keep her here at least overnight
while we examine her samples and monitor how she's eating. We'll talk again in the morning." He
closed the chart. "I know this is a lot to take in at once. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes. Can we stay with her?" Michaela replied.
"There's not much you can do here. I think you'll be more comfortable in a hotel."
"We wanna stay with her," Sully said, squeezing Michaela's shoulder.
"As you wish. I'll just go get a nastrogastric tube and start her on some infant food. And then we'll
move her to another room for the night."
to be continued...
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Chapter Twelve
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"Hey, Mr. Bray," Brian said as he walked inside the store holding Sarah's hand. "Ma sent me with a
list of groceries we need."
Katie, Byron and Red Eagle followed behind him, all three of them much more solemn than they
usually were.
"How all of you doing?" Loren asked, taking the list from him. "I heard about little Eliza."
"We're all right," Brian replied, squeezing Katie's shoulder. "We're just waitin' on word from Ma and
Pa."
"Well, you youn'uns go help yourselves to the candy," Loren said. "You can have whatever ya want."
"Thanks, Mr. Bray," Byron said as he and Katie walked to the jars.
Red Eagle followed close behind Loren as he gathered a sack of coffee, some flour and some apples
and packed them in a barrel.
Loren spun around to get some potatoes in the crates outside and nearly tripped over the little boy.
"Red Eagle, stop chasing me!" he exclaimed. "What's wrong?"
"Mr. Bray," he began unsteadily. Tears suddenly welled in his eyes. "Mr. Bray, could I stay with you?
Could I stay in your store until my ma and pa get back? I could help you out, do chores. I won't get
in the way."
"Aw, you don't wanna stay with me. Don't you want to be at home?" He walked outside and
gathered several potatoes and put them in a sack.
He shook his head, grabbing the old storekeeper's vest. "No, I want to be with you." He walked
back inside and hurried up to Brian. "Please, Brian? Could I stay with Mr. Bray?"
Brian hesitated, a little confused. Red Eagle usually preferred to be wherever the other children
were. It was strange he would want to leave them and be on his own. "Sure that's what ya really
want, Red Eagle? The rest of us are goin' back to the homestead."
"Yes. Please. Please, Brian."
Sarah gently stroked his hair. "Don't you want to come home with us, maybe toss around the
baseball this afternoon?"
"No, I want to help out around here," he replied resolutely.
Loren put the potatoes in the crate and took out his ledger.
"Well, I guess if you really want to," Brian said. "But only if it's all right with Mr. Bray."
"Oh, course it's all right," Loren murmured, gently putting his arm around the little boy. "You can
stay with me long as your folks are gone."
Red Eagle hugged him tightly. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Bray. Thank you."
Dorothy poked her head into the store. "Here's this week's Gazette, Loren," she called. "I'm putting
it outside."
Loren rushed outside, Red Eagle on his tails, as Dorothy placed a stack of newspapers in the box
outside the door and secured them with a horseshoe.
"My story in here?" Loren asked excitedly, taking out one of the papers. He frantically searched the
front page.
"What story?" Dorothy asked blankly.
"You know. About my telephone."
"Oh, that! Yes, it's in there. Somewhere. Afternoon, Loren." She headed back down the street.
Red Eagle looked up at Loren in anticipation.
Loren finally found it on the bottom of page three in small print. He burst into a big smile. "Here it
is! Here it is!"
"Read it, Mr. Bray!" Red Eagle breathed.
"'Loren Bray, owner of the mercantile,'" he began proudly. He winked at Red Eagle. "That's me."
Red Eagle giggled.
"'Loren Bray, owner of the mercantile, installed the second telephone in Colorado Springs on
Tuesday," he read. "By all accounts this innovative machine is going to He trailed off, his smile
fading.
"Read the rest of it," Red Eagle encouraged.
"That is the rest of it," Loren muttered, lowering the paper.
"Oh," Red Eagle murmured. "Well, it was a good story anyway."
Loren put the newspaper back in the box. "At least she wrote somethin'."
Red Eagle tugged on his sleeve. "Could I have that newspaper?"
"Why?"
"I'm going to cut out your article and save it."
Loren felt a little better. He handed the paper to him. "Here, on the house."
Michaela stretched out the baby's fingers on the stiff mattress and studied them closely. Then she
ran her fingers carefully across the baby's ear. The baby was dozing on her belly in the middle of a
hospital metal crib, a tiny tube running into her left nostril. Eliza had always been perfect and
beautiful in her mother's eyes. Now Michaela wondered if her unconditional love for the baby had
caused her to overlook some clear signs of something wrong.
"How's she doin'?" Sully asked as he entered the room with a few limp pillows and a blanket a
nurse had kindly found for them.
"Sleeping," Michaela replied. She gently opened the baby's mouth and looked inside. "We tend to
see short fingers and small ears in infants with mongolism. And they have slanted eyes and larger
tongues."
"I never noticed anything different about her."
"I didn't either. But I wasn't looking for these symptoms before."
"What do ya think? Think that's what this is?"
She sighed. "I'm afraid I just can't say for certain. Dr. Patterson's right, it's too soon to tell. We
won't know for sure until she's at least a year old."
He nodded and pulled over the two hospital chairs in the room close to the bed. "Why don't ya sit
down, try an' get a little sleep?" he suggested, unfolding the blanket.
She reluctantly backed up and took a seat in the chair, removing the pins from her hair and letting it
fall down across her back. She hugged one of the pillows as Sully draped the blanket across her lap
and then walked to the small window in the room and drew the shades.
"When I was doing my residency in an asylum in Boston, I treated some ill children in there with
Mongolism," Michaela murmured, gazing at the baby.
Sully slowly turned around to face her.
"Their families had just abandoned them to live a childhood behind bars," she went on unsteadily. "I
can still hear their little wails."
"Michaela, listen to me," Sully said. "This is our child no matter what. If there's somethin' wrong
with her, we'll face it, and we'll get through it. But no matter what she's stayin' with us. She ain't
goin' anywhere. We're never gonna send her away to be looked after by strangers. I promise."
"Sully," she replied, tears falling down her face.
He quickly walked to her side and sat beside her, drawing her into his arms. "Shh."
"He said….he said this happens more often in older mothers," she stammered. "I'm responsible for
this."
"No. Michaela, we did everything we could to have a healthy baby. Ya took good care of yourself.
Lot better care than some younger mothers would."
"I knew this could happen. I knew the risks. I shouldn't be having a child at my age. What was I
thinking? What were we thinking?"
"Havin' a baby always comes with some risks. But we decided we weren't young enough to be
parents we never woulda had our family. Can't imagine what our lives would be like without those
kids of ours."
She rested her head against his shoulder, a little reassured. "Certainly a lot less entertaining."
He chuckled softly. "Yeah."
She sniffled, glancing at the baby. "I just want her to be perfect."
He swallowed hard. "She is. She's still perfect."
"Oh, Sully, what are we going to do if she's…?"
"We'll love her. And we'll take care of her. Nothin's gonna change. But we gotta take this one step at
a time. Let's find out for sure what's wrong first." He rubbed her back soothingly. "Here, rest your
head in my lap. Try to get a little sleep."
She edged down a little with her pillow, lying in his lap and holding his hand as she closed her eyes
after a very exhausting day.
Red Eagle sat on the porch steps of the store and lifted a little stray kitten into his lap. He pet its
downy orange coat and rested his head against a post.
"Red Eagle? There you are," Loren said, walking outside carrying a clipboard. "What do you say you
help me do some inventory? You can make sure I don't miscount."
Red Eagle sighed and shrugged ever so slightly.
"Red Eagle?" Loren said, stepping closer to him. He knelt down to the little boy's level. "You know,
everything's gonna be all right with little Eliza. Your ma and pa are gonna see to it she gets the best
care possible."
"I know," he murmured.
"Somethin' else on your mind?" he probed.
"You ever have a gran'pa, Mr. Bray?"
"Yeah, I did. When I was a little boy your age. He passed on when I was about fifteen."
"Was he nice?"
"Well, sure. He used to take me fishing."
"I never had one before. A Gran'pa."
"Well, you're lucky. You have one now. Now let's get to that inventory."
"Mr. Bray, I don't want a gran'pa," Red Eagle suddenly blurted, shifting to look at him. "At least, not
William. I don't like him. I want him to go away. Back to St. Louis."
"Oh, Red Eagle. Why don't you like him?"
"I don't know. I just don't know him."
Loren put his arm around him. "Well, we didn't know each other when you first moved here, did
we? But that didn't mean we couldn't be friends."
"That's different. You're nice. You know about baseball and fishing. And all kinds of things."
"William's nice, too," Loren told him. "You'll find things you have in common if you just give each
other a chance."
Red Eagle shook his head, placing the kitten beside him and giving Loren a big hug.
Loren gently patted his back. "Aw, Red Eagle. We're still gonna be friends. Nothing's gonna change."
"Mama says we need to spend time with William now. That he's our gran'pa now."
He rubbed his back. "Well, your ma's right. But, you know, you can have more than one gran'pa.
Lots of folks do."
He wiped away a tear. "Really?"
"Sure. I'll be your gran'pa from Colorado Springs. And William can be your gran'pa from St. Louis.
How's that sound?"
Red Eagle hugged him again, reassured.
"Important thing is you give him a chance. He's been waitin' an awful long time to meet all of you.
If I had grandchildren that didn't want to see me just because they didn't know me, that'd make me
pretty sad."
"I guess I can give it a try."
"Good boy." He rose to his feet and gave Red Eagle a hand up. "Hey, what do you say next time
your brother and sister come into town, I'll let you use my telephone."
"Really? You'd let us?" he breathed.
"You can call your ma and pa at the hospital and talk to them. Would you like that?"
"Oh, yes Mr. Bray. Thank you."
"Now, will you help an old man look after his store? I could use a youn'un like you right now."
Red Eagle squeezed his hand and grinned. "Sure, Mr. Bray."
"Michaela?" Sully said, gently grasping her shoulder and rousing her from sleep.
She blinked up at him and then immediately checked on the baby. Eliza was sound asleep just like
she had last left her.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nurse says there's somebody on the telephone for us."
"Who?" she asked curiously.
A nurse stepped into the room. "A Mr. Loren Bray."
"Loren? Why would Loren be calling us?" Michaela asked.
"Let's go find out," Sully said, grasping her hand as they followed the nurse down the hallway. She
led them into a small room where there was a switchboard and a telephone, and a young woman
connecting all the calls.
"They're on the line," the operator told them.
Michaela tentatively picked up the receiver and pressed it to her ear.
"Loren?" she said. "Loren, what's wrong?"
"Dr. Mike. Nothing's wrong. The little ones just wanted to talk to you."
"Mama?" Byron said.
"Byron?" she replied.
"Mama! Mama!" he exclaimed.
She glanced at Sully with relief. "Oh. Oh. How are you, sweetheart?"
"Good."
"Are you having a good time with Grandpa and Grandma?"
"Yeah. Gran'pa's playin' baseball with me. I'm teaching him. He's pretty good."
"Oh, good. Are Katie and Red Eagle there?"
"Hey, Mama," Red Eagle spoke up.
"Sweetheart," she replied, tears falling down her cheeks. "It's so good to hear all of you. I'm so
sorry we can't come home yet."
Sully rubbed her back and held her close. Even he couldn't help getting choked up. There was
something very emotional about hearing their children's little voices when they were so far away.
"Mama?" Katie said. "Is Eliza all right?"
Michaela glanced at Sully helplessly.
"What's wrong with her? Katie asked.
Michaela desperately tried to keep her voice steady. "Well, she…they're just not sure yet. They're
doing some tests to find out." Michaela could hear Katie quietly sniveling on the other end.
"Katie? Sweetheart, don't cry. She's going to be all right."
"I just want you to come home," she implored. "I miss you."
"I know, darling. I know. I miss you. Remember what we talked about? About being a brave girl?
Being patient?"
She sniffled. "Yes, Mama."
"Gran'ma wants to talk to you, Mama," Red Eagle spoke up.
"Oh, all right. I love you. I love all of you."
"Love you, Mama," Byron said. "Come home soon."
"We're trying," she replied fleetingly.
"Michaela?" Elizabeth said.
Michaela suddenly lost it. "Mother," she choked. Sully put her arm around her in support.
"Oh, Michaela," Elizabeth replied, struggling to remain stoic.
"Mother, they think she's…she might not be normal," she said tearfully. "Something could be terribly
wrong."
Elizabeth took a brave breath.
"Mother, she could have been born with cognitive problems. Our baby might not be…" Michaela
went on.
"Michaela, listen to me," she said resolutely. "Michaela?
"Yes," she choked.
"They haven't completed the tests yet. They're not finished yet."
"No, they're still trying to sort this all out," she admitted.
"They don't know yet. They just don't know. No use working yourself up like this until we know for
sure, all right?"
She dabbed at her tears with her handkerchief. "Yes. Yes you're right."
"Of course I'm right. You must stay strong. Eliza needs you to be strong." She paused. "Sully?"
"Yeah, I'm here," he said unsteadily, leaning forward a little to speak into the mouthpiece. He
sniffled. "Elizabeth. Thanks for everything you're doin' back home, takin' care of the kids."
"Everything's fine at home. Don't worry. Stay as long as you need to. William and Loren and I have
everything under control."
"Thank you," he replied.
"We're probably costing Loren a fortune," Michaela said as she dabbed at her nose. "We should say
goodbye."
"Yes. Let us know the minute there's any news," Elizabeth said. "Everyone here is thinking about
you. Give the little dear a kiss for me."
"I will," Michaela said. "I love you, Mother."
There was a long pause and finally Elizabeth gave a soft sigh. "I love you, sweetheart. Take care.
We can't wait until you come home."
"Goodbye," Michaela murmured, slowly lowering the receiver.
Byron turned over restlessly in bed as a strong wind blew the branches of the trees against his
window. He looked at Red Eagle's empty bed. He missed the little boy and his room felt very lonely
without him. When he couldn't sleep before, he and Red Eagle would talk and tell each other jokes
until they got tired. But now that Red Eagle was at Mr. Bray's, Byron was without his best friend and
confidant.
He got out of bed and walked to the window, gazing outside tearfully. He looked up at the crescent
moon.
"I'm sorry that I didn't say a prayer when Mama asked me to," he whispered tearfully. "I'm sorry I
didn't pray for my baby sister." He took a shaky breath. "My sister can't die, too. You can't take her,
too. Please, God. I didn't mean it, I promise." He sniffled and a few tears slipped down his cheeks.
"I'll say a hundred prayers. Just don't let her die."
William opened the barn door. "Byron? Are you in here? Breakfast is ready."
He found the little boy sitting on the edge of Flash's stall gently combing her coat with a brush.
"Byron?" He approached him and clutched a post. The little boy looked very downtrodden and on
the verge of tears.
"Gotta brush Mama's horse while she's gone," Byron whispered. "Keep her coat shiny."
"I see. You're doing a fine job."
"Thanks." His lip trembled and he swallowed hard.
William studied him carefully. "Byron, what is it, son?"
"Mama sounded so sad when we talked to her. I think Eliza's really sick."
William gently smoothed his hair. "Well, they don't know quite yet what's wrong with her. They must
do some more tests. We'll find out soon."
He rested the brush on the side of the stall. Tears welled in his eyes and he shook his head. "I
didn't mean it, Gran'pa. I didn't mean it."
"Oh, oh. What do you mean? You didn't mean what?"
He sniffled. "I didn't mean to get mad at her. I got mad at her sometimes when Mama always had
to take care of her. I didn't like her. I didn't even say a prayer for her when she was sick. I was
really bad. I said I….I hated her."
"Oh, Byron, that's all right. You mustn't think you had anything to do with her illness."
"I love her. I like havin' a baby sister. I didn't mean it."
"Of course not. Oh, shh, of course not. Of course you love her." He put his arm around him. "My
mother had another baby too when I was about your age. My brother James. I was very jealous for
some time. I liked being the only little boy around and I didn't care for how much attention he got
from my parents."
He sniffled again. "Really? You got kinda mad sometimes, too?"
"Oh, yes, very mad. The point is all older brothers and sisters sometimes feel that way about a new
baby. But the baby won't always require so much of your parents attention. This part of it won't last
long. Very shortly she'll be old enough to walk and talk and you can play with her and teach her all
sorts of things. You have so much to look forward to."
"But what if she dies? Jack died."
He lifted him off the stall and held him close. "I know. But it's like your mother said, they're doing
everything they can for her so that doesn't happen." He gave him a gentle kiss. "Are you hungry?
Think you can try a little porridge?"
"Porridge? What's that?"
"Oh, it's…well, it's what you call oatmeal."
"Oh! Yeah, all right," he said. "I like porridge."
He chuckled. "Come on, son."
Michaela roused herself from sleep as a nurse came into the room early in the morning with a tray
of medical supplies. The nurse immediately inserted a thermometer into the baby's rectum and
opened her pocket watch.
"Is that necessary?" Michaela murmured, stepping up to the bed and stroking the baby's head. "She
doesn't feel warm."
"Routine," the nurse replied simply, removing the thermometer and gazing at it in the light. Then
she wrote down the reading on a medical chart.
Sully awoke and joined Michaela at the bed. He knelt down and kissed the baby's head as the nurse
took out a stethoscope and listened to the infant's heart.
"Hey, sweet girl," he whispered. "Ya have a good sleep?"
Eliza seemed a little wary of everything the nurse was doing to her. She lifted up her legs to kick
the air and let out a little whimper.
"Hmm," the nurse replied, raising her eyebrows curiously.
"What?" Michaela replied.
"Oftentimes when infants aren't gaining weight it's due to some kind of heart defect. But I can't
detect any murmur whatsoever." She removed the stethoscope.
"No, I've never heard anything," Michaela said.
The nurse felt the baby's diaper. "Not damp. She may be dehydrated."
"Oh. No, I don't think so. I changed her about half an hour ago," Michaela explained.
The nurse suddenly looked very annoyed. "You should call us in to do that. We need to monitor
how often she's soiling her diaper."
"I'm sorry," Michaela said helplessly. She was very overwhelmed by the hospital staff taking
complete control over the baby. She couldn't even nurse her because Dr. Patterson had insisted on
a feeding tube for her. And now she was being scolded for changing her own daughter's diaper. She
glanced at Sully despondently and he rubbed her back.
The nurse grabbed a lancet and held the baby's foot.
"Are you taking more blood?" Michaela asked. "But the doctor just took some last night."
"The results were inconclusive. We're going to need another sample," she explained, pricking the
baby's foot with the lancet. The baby screamed and tossed her head as Michaela stroked her tiny
chest and whispered to her.
"Hang on. It's all right, Eliza," Sully said, his own voice hoarse with emotion. It was difficult for him
too to watch their tiny child have to endure all of this.
The nurse suddenly exited as quickly as she had come in, shutting the door after her. As soon as
she was gone Michaela immediately picked up the baby and held her close.
"Shh, shh," she soothed. "It's over now. Oh, sweetheart. Oh, poor baby."
Eliza just continued to cry, tiny tears slipping down her flushed cheeks.
"It's all right. It's all right," Sully said. "Don't cry."
"She won't stop," Michaela said, shaking her head.
"Maybe if we laid her back down, rubbed her belly. She usually likes that," Sully suggested.
Michaela laid her on the crib mattress and lifted up her little shift, rubbing her belly in a circle and
talking softly to her while Sully stroked her hair.
"It's all over," Michaela whispered. "We won't let them do that to you again, all right? Mama's
here." She stopped short, brow suddenly wrinkling.
"What?" Sully asked curiously.
Michaela pressed down gently on the infant's belly with both hands. Eliza just kept crying,
completely inconsolable at this point. She pushed gently all around her navel and then felt the
baby's forehead.
"Sully, she has a hernia," she finally said, glancing at him. "I feel it."
"Hernia? Like what Loren had?"
"Yes, similar. I can feel a small portion of her intestine pressing through the abdominal wall, just
here."
"Ya sure? Why didn't Dr. Patterson feel it? Or Andrew?"
"Sometimes you can't feel it unless the baby's crying. When she's crying she causes the intestine to
push through. When she's calm it probably recedes back and is undetectable. I don't remember she
was crying when any of us examined her before. That's why no one ever felt it."
"What do we do? Surgery?"
"Yes, it's a simple operation. It doesn't feel too large." She let out a great sigh of relief. "Oh, Sully.
It's a hernia. It's easily correctable."
He smiled and drew her into a hug, tears welling in his eyes. "I'll get the doctor," he said, pulling
back and squeezing her shoulder.
Michaela nodded and picked up the baby, kissing her reassuringly. "Oh, sweetheart. Everything's
going to be fine. You're going to be feeling a lot better very soon."
"Thank you, Horace," Dorothy said as she stepped out of the telegraph office with a copy of the
Denver Post that had just arrived. She paused as she heard some loud hammering from up on the
roof. Intrigued, she circled the building until she saw William crouched on the roof, a few nails
between his lips. He pulled one out and pounded it hard into a shingle.
"William!" she called up cheerfully, shielding her eyes.
He looked down and removed the nails from his lips. "Oh, Mrs. Jennings. Good morning."
"Mornin'. I thought the project was on hold until Sully and Michaela get back from Denver," she said.
"Well, it is. But I thought it might help if I put a few shingles up in the meantime. Our deadline for
finishing remains the same. Sadly I don't think the railroad cares a bit that little Eliza is sick." He
made his way to the ladder and climbed down, walking over to her.
"Any word?" Dorothy asked. "About the baby I mean."
"We don't know much. They're still doing tests." He walked to her and grasped her hand, giving it a
kiss. "It's lovely to see you."
She shyly smiled. "Well, you….you must be so worried. I know I am."
"Yes. But we're all trying to stay optimistic," he said.
Dorothy reached for her handkerchief tucked beneath her blouse sleeve and brought it up to his
cheek, dabbing at it.
William flinched. "What?"
She smiled wryly. "Just a little smudge of dirt here. Hold still."
"Blimey. Well, please get it then. I have to look presentable when the ladies come calling." He
winked at her and she smiled back.
"There you are," she said, folding the handkerchief. "Good as new."
He cleared his throat. "Perhaps when they return home, when things have settled down, perhaps
you might…?"
"Might what?" she prompted, her cheeks flushing faintly.
"Well, I do enjoy a nice evening walk after supper. And I know you do as well. Perhaps we could
make a habit of walking together. That is, unless you don't prefer company."
"Yes, I'd like some company," she replied, pleased. "Especially if it's you."
He smiled softly. "Good."
"Well, I…I should get back to the Gazette," she replied a little hoarsely. "Good day, William."
He touched the brim of his hat. "Good day, Mrs. Jennings."
"Yes, I feel it now," Dr. Patterson said as he pressed down on the baby's abdomen. A nurse looked
on, ready to fetch anything the doctor needed. "Ah, yes. Most definitely. Umbilical hernia, about two
centimeters. Intestine is protruding but doesn't appear strangulated. She was probably born with it."
"It explains everything. The poor appetite, lethargy, irritability," Michaela said as she gently stroked
Eliza's hair.
"Yes, this is actually good news," he replied, glancing at the nurse. "Prepare operating theater two
for surgery please."
"Yes, doctor," she replied.
"I'll need you to go to the waiting room now," Dr. Patterson said, glancing at Michaela and Sully.
"We'll operate immediately. I'm hoping there's no damage to her intestine, that I'll simply need to
push it back and close the defect. Otherwise I'll have to remove a portion of her intestine, and that
may take a little longer."
"I'd like to watch," Michaela said. "I'll stay out of the way."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. No family in the operating theater."
"But-"
"She's in good hands, Michaela," Sully said reassuringly. "Let's wait in the waitin' room."
She nodded and sighed, then knelt down and kissed the baby's head. "I'll see you soon, sweetheart.
You'll be back to Mama very soon, I promise. I love you."
"I'll let you know as soon as we're finished," Dr. Patterson said.
The children filed into Jake's barbershop where he was trimming Hank's hair. Red Eagle was
carrying a bucket of sudsy water.
"If you want a bath again you're gonna have to wait until I'm done here," Jake said.
"That's all right. We don't want a bath. We're doing chores around town," Red Eagle said.
"I got some chores I could give you," Hank said.
"Mama says her only rule is we're not allowed to work in the saloon," Katie spoke up.
"That's her only rule, huh? Figures," he replied. "Well, lucky for you your ma's not home. Why don't
ya head on over to my place after my haircut?"
"She'll find out. She always does. We'll get in trouble," Red Eagle explained.
"Yeah. I already get in trouble enough as it is," Byron added.
Hank chuckled to himself and took a puff of his cigar.
"How about we wash your windows, Mr. Slicker?" Samantha suggested.
"Again? Thought you just washed 'em the other week."
"They're dirty again," Byron remarked.
"Well, how much to wash them?" Jake asked.
"A quarter," Samantha said.
He snipped at a lock of Hank's hair. "Make it a nickel and you got yourself a deal."
"Five cents!" Red Eagle cried. "For all that work?"
"Take it or leave it," he replied.
He glanced at the other children and they reluctantly nodded. "Guess we'll take it," he muttered,
putting the bucket on the floor and taking out the cloth inside.
"One dollar, fourteen cents!" Red Eagle cried. "That's all?"
Byron squatted down in front of their change in the dust. The children were gathered in the ally
alongside Loren's store where no one would see them.
"That's all," Byron muttered.
"We're never gonna have enough money to buy my mama anything good," Samantha said. "We'll be
doing chores until we're a hundred!"
"Maybe even two hundred!" Katie added.
"My arms are gonna fall off first," Red Eagle said.
"We gotta raise our prices," Byron said. "Make money faster."
"But nobody's gonna pay us more," Katie protested. "They always wanna pay us less!"
Red Eagle looked down the street. "We just gotta ask the right people."
"Right people?" Samantha murmured.
"You mean rich people," Byron said.
"Yeah," Red Eagle replied pensively. "Rich people."
Byron marched up to Preston's bank carrying a bucket of warm water and opened the door, the rest
of the children behind him. He found Preston talking on his telephone and taking notes in a
portfolio.
"Afternoon, Mr. Lodge," Byron said.
"Just a minute. I'm on the telephone," he replied impatiently, not even looking at them.
"Oh, sorry."
"Yes, Arthur. I heard. Through the roof. Astounding. Yes, I'll speak with you tomorrow." He hung up
the receiver and wrote some more in his notebook.
"Mr. Lodge?" Byron spoke up.
He glanced down. "Oh, it's you again. What can I do for you? I take it you're not here to open an
account."
Byron held up the bucket. "We're washin' windows all over town. Want yours washed?"
"I see. Well, I just had them washed. Come back another time." He walked behind his counter.
"I see a smudge right there," Red Eagle said, pointing at one of the panes. "Whoever washed them
didn't do a very good job."
Preston glanced at the smudge disapprovingly. "Hm. All right. How much to wash all of them?"
"A dollar," Katie said.
"A dollar!" He chuckled. "Inflation hasn't gone up that much!"
"What's that?" Samantha asked.
"A dollar. Do you know how much candy you could buy with a dollar?" Preston muttered.
"We'll do a really good job," Byron said. "It'll be the best windows you ever saw. Worth every
penny."
"Worth every penny. Well, it better be at that price. All right, fine, fine. A dollar it is. If you promise
to wash them inside and out. And don't drip water everywhere."
"Yes, sir!" Byron exclaimed.
"Thank you!" Red Eagle added as they all rushed outside.
Michaela glanced at the clock in the waiting room restlessly. "What could be taking so long?"
"Hasn't been that long," Sully said. "Couple hours. Sides, he said it might take time."
She stood up and paced back and forth. "Oh, Sully. She's so little to be undergoing surgery like
this."
"She's gonna be fine. She's a tough girl. Just like her ma."
She smiled at him faintly and resumed her seat. Sully put his arm around her and held her close.
"Ya hungry? Want somethin' to eat?" he murmured.
"I couldn't eat now," she whispered.
"What about some hot coffee?" he suggested. "We could walk down to the hospital kitchen and buy
some."
She shrugged reluctantly.
"Come on, it'll take our minds off this for a few minutes."
She nodded and they got to their feet, arms still around each other as they headed down the white
hospital hallway.
"Kirk, I plum near sliced my hand open on your razor again," Faye said as she patted her face dry
with a towel. "Please, honey, don't just leave it out like that."
"I'm sorry, honey. I forgot." He climbed out of bed, found his straight razor and closed it securely
shut. Then he opened the night stand's small door and placed it inside.
Faye silently climbed into bed, smoothing the covers. Kirk got in beside her, studying her for a long
moment.
"Honey? You ain't mad, are ya?" he whispered.
She looked at him strangely and swallowed hard. There was something weighing on her mind, had
been for several days now. But what, Kirk had no idea.
"Honey?" he prompted. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she murmured. "It's nothing." Her lips curled up into a wry smile. "I can't wait until Sully
gets back from Denver and you can go back to work. Me and Danielle are tired of havin' you
underfoot around here all day long."
He chuckled. "Come 'ere." He gathered her in his arms and kissed her lovingly, stroking her back.
"One good thing about Sully bein' gone, gave us plenty of time to work on havin' another baby.
We'll have it done in two shakes of a lamb's tail."
"Kirk!" she scolded firmly. "You make it sound like just another construction project!"
He smiled. "This construction project's a lot more fun than anything I ever done, that's for sure."
"Oh, you," she scolded, chuckling and pressing her lips back to his.
to be continued...
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Chapter Thirteen
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Dr. Patterson opened the door and entered the waiting room, drying his hands on a towel.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sully?"
Michaela and Sully stood up together, holding hands.
"Everything went just fine," he said with a soft smile. "I repaired the hernia and she's very stable."
"Oh, thank God," Michaela breathed, turning to Sully and hugging him tightly. "Oh, she's all right."
"She's all right," Sully repeated emotively.
The doctor smiled kindly. "I'd like to keep her here a few days, give her a chance to start gaining
weight again. Then if everything goes as planned you can take her home on Friday."
"Could I nurse her?" Michaela asked hopefully.
"Yes, I think you could try it. As long as she's awake and up to it."
Michaela smiled with relief and Sully squeezed her hand.
"You can see her now if you'd like," he said with a smile. "Not that I have to even ask."
Sully squeezed her hand all the tighter and they followed the doctor to the recovery room.
"Are you hungry?" Michaela murmured, gently stroking the baby's cheek. Eliza was snuggled up at
her mother's breast, tiredly opening and closing her eyes. "Think you can stay awake to try a little
more?"
"She looks so sleepy," Sully said, squeezing the baby's fingers.
"She's still groggy from the anesthetic," Michaela explained. She tickled her cheek to stimulate her
and the baby latched onto the breast and suckled for a long moment.
"There she goes. Oh, good girl," Sully whispered. "Ya need lots of your ma's milk to get your
strength back, all right?
"Oh, I'm so happy I can still nurse her," Michaela said. "I wasn't ready to give this up so soon."
"Don't think she was either," Sully said with a soft chuckle.
"We should wire everyone at home. Let them know she's all right."
"Yeah. They'll be glad to hear it."
She kissed the baby's head lovingly. "Friday can't come soon enough."
William added a log to the fire and then wrapped himself in a quilt and resumed his seat in the
wingback chair, gazing into the crackling flames. He turned as he heard soft footsteps heading down
the stairs.
"Byron, son, is that you?" he called.
"I can't sleep, Gran'pa," he replied, walking to his side in his nightshift.
"Oh," he replied, a little out of his element. "What does your mother do when you can't sleep?"
"Lets me sit up on her lap and tells me a story," he replied resolutely. "Can you tell me a story,
Gran'pa?"
"I suppose I could try," he murmured, giving him a hand up. Byron crawled up into his lap and
cuddled up under the blanket.
"Your lap is really big," Byron remarked.
He chuckled softly. "Now, let's see, a story. Once there was a young man named Will who was a
farmer in the south of England. One day as he was toiling in the fields he met a beautiful maiden
who for some reason was fond of him, too."
"What was her name?" Byron interrupted.
He paused. "Katherine," he whispered. "Her name was Katherine."
"Oh, that's Katie's name."
"Yes, indeed. And she had hair the color of little Katie's hair, too. Well, as you would expect they fell
in love and married and had a beautiful son. It was then that they heard about a far away place
called America where they were giving land away for free. Or close to it."
"America? You mean here?" Byron asked.
"Yes, but not Colorado. In a place called New York. Close to Boston where your mother is from."
"Oh. I've been to Boston once."
"Have you now? Then you must have taken a train through New York to get there."
"Keep telling the story. It's good so far," he encouraged.
He smoothed back his hair. "Well, the couple didn't have very much money. And in the old days you
had to get on a crowded ship for weeks and weeks just to get to America. But the couple so wanted
to come to this land that they were willing to do it. And would you believe that on that long voyage,
a second son came along?"
"Whoa. On the ship?" Byron asked.
"Yes, precisely. They finally arrived in America with their two sons and started their farm." He
paused a moment, lowering his eyes.
"Then what? What happens?" Byron spoke up.
"They…they lived happily ever after," he replied, giving his head a gentle pat.
"Oh. Good story, Gran'pa," he replied.
He gave his head a gentle kiss. "Try to close your eyes. It's very late."
Byron rested his head against the old man's shoulder. Then he raised his head. "Gran'pa?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad I have a gran'pa now."
"I'm glad I have a grandson," he whispered back.
William wheeled Elizabeth up to the table at the café. They had just taken the children to school,
Brian had gone off to his new homestead to work and it looked as if it were just going to be the
two of them for the day while they waited impatiently for news about Eliza.
"You know, if I couldn't live in Boston I think I would have liked to live in St. Louis," Elizabeth
remarked. "With that beautiful river and all the shopping and restaurants I hear they have."
"Yes, it's a lovely town," he remarked. "The people are very kind. I've never been without work."
Grace came over with her coffee pot and two mugs. "Just coffee today, folks?" She smiled at
William. "Oh, you want tea, don't you?"
He smiled at her kindly. "Thank you, ma'am. If it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"No, course not," she said, patting his shoulder. She filled Elizabeth's cup and then went off to her
stove.
"Is that what you've been doing the whole time there? Just working?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
"Well, yes. And I did remarry some time ago. She was a nursemaid for a family I did some roof
work for."
"Oh. William, do you have other children?" she asked.
"No. No, we weren't blessed," he said. "I suppose we never really….really thought seriously of
having children. We were both working so hard to make ends meet." He bent his head. "Deep down
I didn't feel right about having children. I'd already destroyed the first family I had. I was afraid
what I would do with another."
She swallowed hard, struck by the pain in his eyes. "What of your wife? Is she still in St. Louis?"
"Well, she's passed on, Mrs. Quinn. About ten years ago. Bella was only about fifty when she
became ill. Cancer. It was very quick. I've been alone ever since."
"I'm very sorry."
"And what of your background? Did you grow up in Boston?"
She took a sip of coffee. "Yes. My parents passed away when I was a little girl. I spent most of my
growing up years living with my aunt and cousins. When I was eighteen I was presented with a
handful of suitors, and I somehow managed to pick out Josef. Or he picked me. I can't remember."
"Michaela's father?"
"Yes. Josef Quinn. He was a doctor, a recent Harvard graduate. He worked at the hospital nearby
right up until his death."
"Oh, I see. That's how Michaela ended up practicing medicine."
"Michaela's the last of five girls. Josef kept wanting me to give him a son, but I couldn't perform. So
he settled for her. He was intent on carrying on the family tradition from the moment she was
born." She chuckled. "I must admit at times I thought I had married a lunatic. I was rather opposed
to this whole thing for much of her life. But now I realize he was right. Michaela wouldn't be
Michaela unless she was a doctor. I'm very proud of her."
"I can see that. And I can see how much you love her, and her children. It's very beautiful, a
mother's love."
She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, well."
"Mrs. Quinn," Horace called as he rushed into the café, holding Samantha's hand. He handed her a
telegram. "This just came in. I brought it over straight away."
"Good morning, Sammy," William said, touching her freckled nose.
She giggled. "Hey, Will."
"Thank you, Horace," Elizabeth said as she unfolded the telegram.
William waved at Samantha as she followed Horace back to the telegraph office. He turned his
attention to Elizabeth. Tears were streaming down her face and she was pressing the telegram to
her heart.
"Elizabeth!" He felt his throat go dry with fear at the thought of what the telegram said. Perhaps
their worst fears had come true and little Eliza hadn't been able to hang on anymore. She was such
a tiny thing and he had always wondered how much more of this she was going to be able to
endure. "Elizabeth, is she….?"
She opened her eyes, sniffling. "No, no. She's fine. She's going to be fine. They'll be home by the
end of the week."
He quickly got up and put his arms around her, holding her reassuringly.
"She's going to be fine, William," Elizabeth said. "Oh, thank the Lord."
"Oh, that's so good to hear," he said. "There, there. It's time to be happy now."
"William, losing Jack, their son, it was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to them. It
was so hard on them, on all of us. Michaela and Sully just don't deserve to go through that again
and I so feared that's what was happening."
"There, there. That's not what's happening. She is going to be all better now."
She smiled with relief and held him close. "Our granddaughter's going to be fine," she echoed.
"Yes," he said, tears welling in his eyes. "Our granddaughter."
Sully rejoined Michaela at their seat and handed her a wrapped sandwich.
"Turkey. It's all they had," he said.
"I'm not hungry," she murmured as she gazed out the train window. The train was making its way
through a dim tunnel blasted into the mountain ridge on its way south to Colorado Springs.
"Michaela, ya gotta eat somethin'. It's a long train ride."
"I will a little later. I promise."
He sat down with his sandwich and unwrapped it, glancing at the baby and rubbing her head.
"How's she doin'?"
"Just fine. Sleeping."
"She's a tired thing," he remarked.
"I know. But it's normal after going through surgery like that. The important thing is she's eating
now, gaining weight again."
He patted her knee. "Hey, cheer up. Everything's gonna be fine now."
"I know. It's not her. It's just, I've been thinking. Now that we're going home there's still something
else we've yet to deal with."
He paused a moment, slowly chewing. "Byron?" he murmured.
She nodded. "We have an important decision to make. Teresa wants to know as soon as possible."
"How ya feelin' about it?"
"Truthfully, I don't know. At first I thought it was a terrible idea. But now I'm wondering if you're
right, if it might be good for him."
"It's just hard to watch him struggle with his schoolwork all the time when it comes so easy to the
other kids," he said. "If we hold him back school might be a little easier on him, he won't get so
frustrated all the time. He might start likin' school a little more."
"Or he might end up hating it. This could just end up making him feel more frustrated than ever if
he thinks he's not capable of keeping up with the other children."
"That's true, and we gotta be careful about that. But fact is, I think it woulda helped me I got held
back when I was his age. School was always real hard for me. But in those days they didn't hold ya
back. If you didn't understand somethin' the first time you were never gonna learn it. When my ma
died and I ran off, I was happy to never go to school again."
"I don't want that to happen to him. I don't want him to never learn something important just
because we want him to move on with everyone else."
"Each child's different. Our kids have taught me that. For some reason Byron learns a little different.
I think we gotta do some things that may be tough to help him cope with that."
She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder tiredly.
"Here, why don't ya take a little nap?" he suggested, putting his arm around her. "We'll be home
soon."
Katie and Red Eagle ran up to their parents as they disembarked from the train. Michaela was
holding the baby in her sling and Sully carried their luggage.
"Mama! Papa!" the children both cried.
Michaela held out her arms with a big smile and crouched to embrace them, and Sully put down the
luggage to hug them.
"Eliza's all better?" Katie asked, gazing at the baby and rubbing her arm.
"All better," Michaela said.
Red Eagle kissed the baby and Katie followed suit.
"Where's Byron?" Michaela asked, smoothing back Katie's hair lovingly. She searched the crowded
depot until she saw Byron several yards away, holding William and Elizabeth's hands. Michaela burst
into a smile and held out her arms. He beamed and broke away from his grandparents, running to
her.
Michaela held him tightly. "Oh, I missed you. My sweetheart."
He buried his head beneath her neck. "I'm sorry, Mama. I'm really sorry."
"Sorry for what?" she replied in confusion.
"I'm sorry I was mean to the baby. I said bad things. I didn't mean to."
She gazed at him tearfully. "Oh, sweetheart. I know you didn't. I'm sorry, too. Mama hasn't been
very attentive to much else since Eliza was born. But from now on things are going to be different."
Byron pushed back the baby's bonnet to kiss her forehead. "I'm glad you're better now, baby sister.
I love you."
Michaela shared a pleased glance with Sully.
"Let's go home," he said with a smile.
"Look, Mama. Gran'pa made us this while you were gone," Byron said eagerly as they all filed into
the dining room. He held up a long wooden paddle excitedly as Sully carried in their luggage.
"What is it?" she asked wryly as she rubbed the baby's back. "Is that for doing my laundry?"
"No, Mama!" he said with a giggle. "It's a cricket bat to play cricket. Cricket's like baseball only
better."
"Well, that's a little editorializing on my part," William spoke up.
"And it's good for getting your sister," Byron said, giving Katie's bottom a gentle pat with the bat.
Katie screeched and then giggled and Red Eagle laughed. "Hey, don't!"
William smiled and took the bat from him. "Byron, now I didn't make it for that."
"It sounds like you all had a good time with Grandpa," Michaela remarked, rubbing Byron's back.
"I'm glad."
"I'm starving," Byron said. "Can we have supper?"
"I'll get it started right away if you'll help me," Michaela said. "William, I hope you'll stay and eat
with us."
"Michaela," Sully spoke up, clearing his throat as he hung up his jacket. "Maybe we better, uh, keep
things quiet tonight. We just got back."
"Sully," she scolded softly.
William glanced at his son awkwardly. "No, no, I couldn't stay. I have to be getting back."
"But, William-"
"No, Sully's right. You just got home and you deserve some peace and quiet and time with your
children."
Michaela reluctantly nodded. "Children, thank your grandfather for being so kind and staying with
you all this time."
Katie and Byron ran to him and hugged him tightly.
"I don't want you to go, Gran'pa," Byron said. "I want you to sleep over again."
"Now, now. I'll see you again soon. Goodnight."
Katie kissed his cheek. "Bye, Gran'pa."
"Oh, sweet Katie," he murmured. He straightened and waved at Red Eagle. "Goodbye, son."
Red Eagle reluctantly gave him a little wave.
"Let me see you out, William," Michaela said, following him to the door. She shut it after them.
"William, I'm so sorry. After everything you did for us the least we can do is give you supper."
"No, it's all right. Truly."
She stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, William. You've made this whole ordeal a
lot easier on Sully and I. We never had to worry about anything here."
"I'm just glad she's better. Whatever I could do to help." He stepped down, then turned back
around. "Oh, while you were away I moved her crib right up next to your bed. I hope you don't
mind."
"Moved her crib? Why?" she asked, perplexed.
"Well, you said you have trouble letting her sleep in there. I thought it would help if you had her
right close to you. Perhaps you could slowly move the crib back as you get more comfortable with
the idea."
She reluctantly nodded. "All right. I suppose we could try that."
"Goodnight," he replied, putting his hat back on.
"Goodnight, William," she replied softly as he mounted his horse and galloped out to the road.
"There you are, sweetheart," Michaela whispered as she lowered Eliza into the crib and covered her
up warmly. "How's this? You like your crib?"
Sully opened the door and walked across the room, washing up at the basin. "I should go into town
early tomorrow, try to get an early start. I'm gonna have to work pretty hard to get that new
addition done in time."
"That's fine. It was so kind of Horace to be so understanding about all this."
"He's a good man." He patted his chest dry and turned around. "You move her crib there? Why's it
next to the bed?"
"It was William's idea. He thought it might help me. With getting used to having her in there."
Even Sully had to admit that sounded like a good idea. "Oh. Yeah."
She climbed under the covers and drew them around her. "It would have been nice if he could have
stayed for supper. William."
He approached the crib and reached down into it, smiling at Eliza as she slept. He rubbed her belly.
"She's lookin' so much better. Look, even her cheeks look real chubby again."
"I don't remember the other children being this chubby, were they? She's so sweet with those big
rosy cheeks."
"Yeah, she's sure a sweet thing." He leaned forward and kissed Michaela. "You and me made a real
good baby, Mama. I think we're just gettin' better at this."
She smiled at him lovingly and patted his place beside her. He slipped off his boots and then
climbed under the covers.
"Think you're gonna be all right without her in the bed tonight?" he asked, gathering her in his
arms.
"I think so. She's right next to me. As long as I can hear her breathing I'm all right."
"You get a good sleep," he said, kissing her head. "We had a long week."
Michaela awoke first the next morning, surprised to see Sully asleep beside her. They were both
early risers, but he was usually up before her, no matter how early she tried to get up. She glanced
at the clock. No wonder, it was only quarter past four. Even Sully was usually still asleep at this
hour. She raised her head and looked in the crib beside the bed. The baby was just fine, sleeping
soundly beneath a white crocheted blanket Elizabeth had knitted for Katie years ago.
Michaela sighed and tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Finally she sat up in bed and rested her
hands in her lap.
"You were pretty restless last night," Sully whispered.
Michaela glanced at him. "I'm sorry. Was I keeping you awake?"
"It's all right." He rubbed her thigh sleepily and then kissed it. Michaela gently ran her fingers
through his sleep-tossed hair for a long moment.
"Sully?" she whispered.
"Hm?"
"I don't want him to struggle in school like this for his entire childhood," she said unsteadily. "It's
not fair to him."
He slowly shifted up to her level. "Byron?"
"It's not as if we haven't tried other ways first. We've all been trying very hard to help him learn.
He's going to be upset, there's no avoiding that. But the more I think about it the more I think
Teresa's right."
"We'll help him through it. But if we're gonna do this, I think it's better to do it now than later when
he's older."
"Then you think we should hold him back?"
"Yeah, I do. I think Teresa put a lot of thought into it, wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't think
it was a good idea."
She swallowed hard. "I'll tell Teresa today."
Michaela hugged Katie and the boys outside the schoolhouse.
"Have a good day," Michaela said quietly.
"Bye, Mama," they all called as they headed over to the seesaws with their schoolmates.
Michaela looked up at the schoolhouse door. She cradled the baby in her sling and headed up the
stairs and inside.
Teresa was distributing some corrected papers on the desks. She stopped what she was doing.
"Good morning, Dr. Quinn."
"Good morning." Michaela saw no reason not to get straight to the point. "My husband and I
discussed it, and we've decided Byron should repeat the second grade."
Teresa looked momentarily surprised, then she nodded. "Yes. Good."
Michaela cleared her throat awkwardly. "Thank you," she murmured, not knowing what else to say.
She headed back down the aisle.
"Dr. Quinn," Teresa called suddenly.
Michaela paused and turned back around.
"You made the right decision," Teresa said.
"I hope so," Michaela replied quietly.
Sully unloaded his toolbox from the back of his wagon and Kirk and William took out some crates
filled with boxes of nails, hinges and other supplies. Sully circled the post office's new addition,
surveying what they had done so far.
"Who put those shingles up there?" he suddenly demanded, walking quickly up to the men.
"What shingles?" Kirk asked.
"What do ya mean?" another worker asked.
Sully pointed at the roof. "Somebody's already put up all the shingles on the south side. One of you
do that when I was in Denver?"
William removed his cap. "Well, that was me, Sully. I thought I should make myself useful. The
children were in school and I had nothing else to do."
"I'm foreman, ya don't take the liberty of workin' ahead without my permission," Sully said sternly.
Kirk climbed up the ladder a few steps. "Looks good, Sully. That's fine work. That'll put us ahead
half a day."
"Point is ya shouldn'ta done it," Sully retorted.
William swallowed. "I'm sorry. I thought I was helping."
"Ya try somethin' like that again and you're fired," Sully murmured, brushing past him and heading
back to his wagon.
He spotted Matthew waiting for him nearby holding his hat. He awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Uh, sorry, Sully, this a bad time?"
"No. Somethin' wrong, Matthew?"
"Dr. Mike's not at the clinic. I needed to talk to her."
"She's comin' in later today. Gonna work on her garden this mornin'."
"Oh. That best man's suit Gran'ma ordered for me, it just come in. Problem is the trousers are too
long. I was hopin' two of 'em could fix it in time for the weddin'."
"I'll make sure she gets 'em. Where are they?"
"In my office," he said.
They walked down the street for the jail.
"William not workin' out?" Matthew said tentatively.
Sully glanced at him. "Just don't think he understands how I like to run things."
"What'd he do?"
"Matthew, if you're gonna tell me I ain't given him a fair chance, I get enough of that from your ma
and everybody else."
Matthew unlocked the door. "Wasn't gonna tell ya that. Fact is, I think ya got every right to be
angry."
"It's not angry. Just…" He crossed his arms. "Disappointed, I guess. Wish things had been different."
"I understand."
"Ya do?" he murmured.
"You know what my own pa did to me, my little brother and sister. Father like that don't deserve to
be in our lives. I'd be happy I never hear from Ethan again."
"He ever came crawlin' back, would ya give him a chance?" Sully asked curiously.
"No, I don't think so. Not now. Too late for that." He picked up the trousers off his desk. "Sully, it's
up to you if you want William around. Don't let anybody make ya feel like you ain't bein' fair. You
gotta do what's right for you."
"Thanks, Matthew. I appreciate that."
Matthew handed him the trousers. "Guess it was a little easier on me than most lettin' my real pa
go."
"How's that?"
"I had you and Dr. Mike to look up to instead. You been my folks since my ma passed on. I'm glad
you were here for me. All three of us. Wasn't for you, I woulda been on my own."
Sully glanced at the trousers. "I'll make sure they get these."
"Tell 'em thank you for me."
"I will."
"Hey, honey," Kirk said as he walked inside the cabin and hung up his hat. Faye was stirring a pot
of stew on the stove, wearing an apron. The baby was in her highchair playing with a rag doll.
"Oh, sweetheart, you're a mess," Faye remarked. "Take off that shirt and wash up."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, walking across the room to the table and filling up the basin with water
from a pitcher.
"How was your day?" she asked as she added salt to the stew.
"Pretty good. Pay day today. Tomorrow we can pay off Mr. Bray at the mercantile and get our
groceries." He slipped off his shirt and washed his chest and neck. "Honey? That sound good?"
"Yes, fine," she said quietly. "Kirk? How's Mr. Sully gettin' along? I mean, I keep thinkin' how hard it
must be on the both of them. I feel so bad for them."
"Ya might say he and Sully ain't exactly two peas in a pod." He walked to the highchair and picked
up the baby, tossing her into the air. "Hey, darlin'! How ya doin'?"
"Pa!" Danielle replied. She giggled and babbled something incomprehensible, touching one hand to
his five o'clock shadow and screeching.
"Kirk?" Faye whispered. "What're we gonna do when this job is over? Where will you work next?"
He eyed her curiously, putting the baby on his hip. "Well, I don't know, honey. We'll figure it out.
We always do."
"You were lucky to get this job. Lot of men in town would like to be in your shoes. I just worry
eventually the jobs are gonna run out."
"No, a man with carpentry know-how is always gonna be somebody folks need. Don't you worry
yourself." He walked over to her and gave her a sweet kiss. "What ya got cookin'?"
"Rabbit stew." She heaved a sigh. "Kirk, you sure we should have another baby just now? I mean,
maybe now ain't a good time."
He rubbed her back. "What're ya talkin' about? Honey, what's wrong? We been tryin'. Thought ya
wanted another."
"I do. I do. It's just, what if we can't provide for it? Dr. Mike says Sully's pa, he up and left when
times got tough. Never came back."
"That what's been botherin' ya?" he murmured. "Faye, you know that would never happen to us."
"William's a good man. Got a good soul. I can tell. But even he left when things got to be too
much."
"Honey, he was just a kid when that happened."
"We're young, too, don't forget. My pa nearly disowned me for marryin' so young. I wasn't a day
shy over sixteen. Same age as Sully's ma when she got married."
"Well, we were in love. What were we supposed to do?" he replied, giving her another kiss. "And
I'm still in love. Listen to me, we are stickin' together through good times and bad. I'm never gonna
leave ya, that's a promise."
"Oh, Kirk. I know. I'm sorry." She hugged him tightly. "I'd never leave you either. Not that I have
much else place to go!"
He chuckled. "Then I guess you could say we're stuck in this."
She laughed and kissed Danielle's cheek. "Well, that's a good kind of stuck."
"You bet it is," he replied, holding her all the closer.
Loren slid each coin aside with his finger as he counted the children's large pile of coins. They
watched the storekeeper intently, leaning on his counter.
"Sorry it's mostly pennies and nickels," Samantha spoke up. The children were covered in dust after
cleaning out Dorothy's attic at the Gazette all afternoon. She had generously paid them fifty cents
for the job, which gave them enough to buy the cameo they wanted. Or so they hoped.
"Shh, don't make me lose count," he replied. "Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three. That's four dollars,
sixty-three cents."
The children's faces fell. They had been hard at work all over town for two weeks only to come up
short.
"But I thought it was five," Byron protested. "I counted twice."
"You counted all wrong, Byron," Red Eagle said with a sigh. "I told you I should do it."
"I'm sorry," he said with a little frown. He bent his head guiltily. "Sometimes I mix up the coins."
"Guess we're gonna have to do more chores," Red Eagle muttered. "Come on, Samantha, Katie."
Loren grumbled and folded his arms. "You really want that cameo, do you?"
"Yes, Mr. Bray," Katie said. "The one in your case."
He opened his case and took out the cameo. "Well, it just so happens I'm running a sale today on
cameos."
"You are?" Byron exclaimed. "How much?"
"Well, this one here is four dollars sixty-three cents."
"That's exactly what we have!" Samantha exclaimed.
"So it is," he muttered.
"We'll take it! Can you wrap it up, too?" Katie asked.
"Oh, all right. I'll wrap it up, too," he replied impatiently, shaking his head and tearing off a piece of
brown paper from the roll.
Byron quickly circled the counter and hugged Loren's waist tightly.
Loren paused and gave his dusty hair a gentle pat. "Well, I've seen you around town workin' hard.
You deserve it. Now give me some space to wrap this up."
Myra rubbed her arms of the chilly night air and found her room key in her purse. She opened the
door to the room and walked inside, heading to her trunk and opening it up. She found her shawl,
as well as a cape for Samantha, and draped the garments over her shoulder. Then she closed her
trunk.
She was just about to leave when she spotted a small, suspicious package on the bed. Raising her
eyebrows, she grabbed the little package and turned it over in her hands.
"What's this?" she murmured allowed. She pulled back the string to reveal a small leather box. Then
she opened it up, uncovering a simple but beautiful cameo.
"Oh my Lord," she whispered, pressing her hand to her heart. She looked up in confusion. "Oh, no,"
she said. "Hank."
Michaela walked into the dining room where the children were gathered at the table playing
jackstraws. They had a pile of colorful thin sticks sprawled in front of them and Red Eagle was
working at slowly removing a red stick without jostling the others.
"All right. It's bedtime," Michaela said as she walked into the room with Sully.
"Five more minutes?" Katie asked sweetly.
"No," Michaela replied. "Good try though."
She giggled and gathered the sticks, putting them back in the canister and sealing the top.
"I'll come up and tuck you in, we'll read from our chapter book," Michaela said.
"Don't forget to say goodnight to your gran'ma in her room," Sully added.
The children headed off but Michaela grasped Byron's sleeve, holding him back.
"Byron, could you stay down here a moment please?" Michaela said.
He lingered back as the other children went off to Elizabeth's room.
Michaela pulled out a chair for him. "Let's sit," she said. "Your papa and I have something we need
to talk to you about."
He looked at her a little apprehensively and sat down.
Michaela took a seat beside him and caressed his shoulder. "First of all I want to tell you how proud
we are of you. You've been working hard in school lately and studying a great deal and you've never
given up."
He swung his legs and smiled. "Thanks, Mama. I'm getting better at arithmetic."
"Yes, you are." She took a deep breath, glancing at Sully. This was turning out to be even harder
than she thought. "Byron, we've been talking with your teacher and she feels that…well, we all feel
that it would be a good idea if you got a little extra help on your second grade lessons before going
on to the third grade ones."
His smile slowly faded. "But…I'm almost done with the second grade lessons. I'm gonna be in the
third grade next term."
"I know. I know that's what we planned," Michaela said unsteadily. "But we've come to believe it
would be better if you keep doing second grade lessons next year."
She could see Byron's face rapidly falling as he digested it all. He shook his head. "You mean, I
have to do second grade again?"
Sully clutched his shoulder. "This is gonna help ya understand your lessons better, son. So when ya
do go on to third grade it's gonna be a lot easier for ya."
He kept shaking his head. "I knew I was dumb!"
"No, sweetheart. No," Michaela admonished. "You are a very smart little boy. There's all different
kinds of ways to learn. Learning from books is just one way. And it's harder for some children than
for others. It does not mean you are dumb."
He burst into tears, folding his arms on the table and burying his head against them. "I am. I'm too
stupid for third grade. I'm not smart like everybody else. I'm never gonna be any good at school. I'll
be in the second grade forever."
"That's not true. Sweetheart, monkey, don't cry. Come here," Michaela said. She drew him into a
hug and looked at Sully helplessly.
Sully rubbed his back, swallowing hard. "It's all right. Shh."
"Mama, please don't make me," he begged. "Please don't keep me back. I'll study harder. I'll do
homework all day long."
"I know this hurts," Michaela said as she let a few tears of her own slip down her cheeks. "I know
this isn't what you would prefer. But Papa and I and your teacher have to think about all the years
you have left in school, and what we can do to help you do well and succeed. Keeping you back a
year is something we decided to do after a lot of careful thought." She cupped his cheeks in her
hands and smoothed his tears. "Oh, sweetheart."
Another wave of tears hit and he hugged her tighter. Michaela let him cry and just kept holding him
and rocking him while Sully stood by and rubbed his back.
To be continued…
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Chapter Fourteen
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"He's asleep," Michaela said as she shut the bedroom door. Sully was in bed, the baby dozing across
his chest as he gently stroked her back.
"Good," he whispered.
Michaela climbed in beside him. "That was difficult."
He gazed at the baby and kept stroking her back.
"I hope we're doing the right thing," she said with a sigh. "I don't want him going through his
childhood thinking he's not smart enough. Is this the right thing?" She paused and touched his arm.
"Sully?"
"Hm?"
"Sully, what's wrong?" she probed.
He glanced at her a moment. "I don't know. I just been thinkin'. He gets it from me."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Book learnin'. I was never real good at it myself. He gets it from me."
"Don't be silly," she admonished.
"Michaela, your whole family's got brains. Ya know how bright ya always been. Ya were top of your
class in medical school. I'm glad Katie takes after you. I hope Eliza does, too. But Byron's more like
me and we both know it."
She gently clutched his hand. "Yes, he is like you. He's caring and sensitive and patient. And loving,
so very loving. He has the most beautiful heart." She squeezed his hand. "I think he just has skills
that are difficult to see in a classroom. You for instance, you're a gifted craftsman. You can build
anything. A wheelchair, furniture, even houses. And you have an ear for languages. You pick up new
words just like that. Sully, it's all right if traditional learning isn't where his strengths are. He'll hone
in on his strengths just like you have."
He gazed at her appreciatively. "Too bad school ain't about buildin' things. Me and Byron both
woulda done real well."
She smiled. "We should get some sleep. It's late."
He got out of bed and put the baby in her crib, which was now moved about three feet from the
bed. He tucked a blanket over her and smoothed her hair.
"He's gonna be all right, Michaela," he said reassuringly. "I know it's tough to take at first but it's
like ya said. This is gonna help him succeed."
She cuddled against him as he got back in bed. "I hope so."
"Don't you want eggs, sweetheart?" Michaela asked as she watched Byron pick at his breakfast. She
refilled Sully's coffee cup and then Elizabeth's, the baby over her shoulder.
He glanced up and shrugged.
She circled the table and came up behind him, rubbing his back. "What about pancakes? I know you
love Mama's pancakes. I can make you some right now."
He shook his head.
"Come on, Byron. You eat your breakfast," Sully spoke up gently. He didn't really like to see
Michaela baby their son and encourage him to sulk, but even he couldn't help feeling terrible about
how hard the little boy had taken the news that he was being held back in school. He had been
dragging his feet ever since he found out.
Byron tentatively took a bite of eggs and Michaela stooped and kissed his cheek a few times. "What
about coming to the clinic today with Mama and be my special helper? I could really use you."
"I guess," he whispered.
"Can I help, too?" Katie asked hopefully.
"Yes, you all can," Michaela said as she resumed her seat.
"Hey, what do ya say we practice hurlin' this afternoon?" Sully spoke up. "All of us. Soon as I get
done with fixin' that fence."
"Oh, that sounds like fun," Michaela said helpfully.
"Yeah. I'll put the bases out front for ya, before I go into the Gazette," Brian offered.
Someone knocked on the door and Brian got up to answer it. William was standing on the porch
holding a fishing reel.
"Oh, mornin', Gran'pa," Brian said. "Come on in."
He walked into the room and smiled tentatively.
"Gran'pa!" Katie called sweetly.
"William, would you like some breakfast?" Michaela asked.
"No thank you. I was wondering…I was thinking perhaps I could take the children fishing this
morning?"
Michaela glanced at Sully and he gave her a small nod of approval.
"Well, what do you say, children?" Michaela asked with a smile.
Katie got up and ran to him, giving him a hug. "I'll go, Gran'pa!"
"What about you, Red Eagle?" William asked.
"No, I wanna help Mama at the clinic," Red Eagle said.
William held Katie's hand and walked to the table. "Byron? Are you coming?"
He ate another bite of eggs and shrugged.
"Sweetheart, why don't you go?" Michaela said. "You love to fish."
"Yes, you should go, Byron," Elizabeth added. "Fresh air will do you all some good."
He heaved a sigh.
"Go on," Michaela encouraged. "Go get your fishing poles in the barn and I'll make you all some
sandwiches."
"All right," he muttered, sliding down from his chair and scurrying outside.
"Is something wrong?" William asked as he watched Byron take off.
"He has to do second grade again," Katie explained softly. "He's sad."
"It doesn't mean he's dumb," Red Eagle spoke up defensively. "He just learns different."
"Yes, that's right, sweetheart," Michaela said.
"Yes, I never thought he was dumb," William replied. "Of course it doesn't mean that."
"His teacher thinks the best thing to do is to hold him back a year," Michaela said as she got up and
cleared some dishes. "But I'm afraid he's very upset at the moment."
"Oh. That's understandable."
"Well, it's all his teacher's fault of course," Elizabeth said. "She simply can't handle a child who
breaks the mold."
"Mother," Michaela scolded. She walked to William and gently patted his arm. "He could use a little
cheering up."
"I'll do my best," he said with a soft smile.
"Eww!" Katie said as she held up a worm and quickly dropped it into the bait bucket. "Gran'pa, I just
found another!"
"Good girl," he called. "Keep digging. We'll need lots more big fat worms."
Katie picked up her trowel and delved around in the sticky mud as she squatted near the creek bed.
Byron was sitting on a fallen log, his face drawn, as he held his pole and stared into the water.
"Move your pole just a bit more, Byron," William instructed as he took a seat beside him and
dropped his line into the water. "We want the fish to see the bait."
Byron moved the pole up and down and heaved another sigh.
William eyed him a long moment. "You know, son, when I was your age we didn't have schools. At
least not in the small town I was from."
"Liphook?" Byron whispered.
"Yes, Liphook in Hampshire. You remember."
"You're lucky," he muttered.
"My mother taught me to read," he explained. "And my sums and a little history. But I was not very
fond of any of that. I would much rather be in the fields with my father. That's what I was good at."
"I wish I could just help Papa, too. I hate school."
"Do you know what I do when I read something? I mix up the letters. Ds look like Bs to me and I
never could master which way the S should go. And my spelling, I just can't spell worth a lick."
Byron looked up at him curiously. "Really? You're not so good at learning either?"
"Afraid not. But the important thing is that I always tried my best at things I'm not very good at.
And in the meantime, I sought out what I was good at. Like carpentry, painting, fixing things." He
gave his shoulder a playful squeeze. "Cricket."
Byron smiled a little, reassured. "I guess I'm pretty good at baseball. And I'm good at building
things. Even Papa said. And I can paint, too!" He sighed and swallowed hard. "But I guess I'm
always gonna be dumb in school."
"I know that's how it feels at the moment. But when something is difficult, we mustn't give up and
feel sorry for ourselves. We must see it as a challenge, as something to overcome. When you go
back to school, I want you to work as hard as you can. And the work will seem a bit easier, won't it,
now that you've seen it before? Why, I bet you'll be the smartest boy of all the children in the
second grade."
"I guess maybe. I guess I could try."
"Good. I'm proud of you."
His line moved and Byron brightened. "I think I got one!"
"Oh, yes you do!" William exclaimed, standing up. "Hurry, pull it in!"
Byron got to his feet and tugged hard on the line, groaning with the effort. "Katie, look! Gran'pa, it's
a big one!"
"Look at it!" Katie squealed.
William grabbed the line and helped him to drag the fish out of the water. "Yes, it is! A big trout!
Four pounds at least!"
Byron hauled the fish to shore and screeched. "Look what I caught! Look!"
"Well done," William praised. "A good supper that will make!"
Byron held it up in admiration. "Thanks, Gran'pa."
"No, it wasn't me. You caught that all by yourself. You're a fine fisherman."
Byron hugged him tightly. "Yeah."
Dorothy and William strolled across the meadow back to town. Dorothy was lightly holding onto his
arm.
"Well, Tommy didn't really take to school either," Dorothy remarked. "It was always hard as parents
to know what to do. Eventually he found something he was real good at, being a soldier in the
army. He fought in the war. We were all so proud."
"Tommy, is that your son you mean?"
"Oh, yes. Tom. But he's all grown up now."
"I didn't know you had children."
She smiled faintly. "Yes, three of them. Two girls and a boy."
"Where are they?" he asked curiously.
She swallowed hard. "Oh, moved away. You know how children are."
"Yes," he murmured. "Do they have red hair, too?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
She blushed faintly. "Two of them did. Tommy and Elly. As for my oldest girl, she has brown hair
like her father."
He chuckled, shaking his head.
"What?" she asked.
"Tommy and Elly. They don't sound very grown up to me."
She smiled. "Oh, I keep forgetting myself. They hate when I call them by their nicknames. 'It's just
Tom now, Ma,' he always tells me."
"Here, take my jacket," he said, slipping off his wool coat and placing it over her shoulders.
"Oh, I'm fine," she protested.
"Please, there's a chill in the air."
They locked eyes and for a moment Dorothy thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he
politely took her hand and squeezed it.
"Come, the café is still open," he murmured. "Let's warm up with some hot tea."
Dorothy knocked on the clinic door, clutching her shawl around her shoulders and a handkerchief in
one hand.
Michaela opened the door. "Oh, good afternoon, Dorothy," she said cheerfully.
"Afternoon, Michaela," she said. She glanced at the bassinette where Eliza was sleeping. "How's the
baby doing?"
Michaela followed her gaze and burst into a proud smile. "Much better. She's gaining weight a
pound a day it seems like."
"That's good to hear."
Michaela eyed her curiously. "Is there something I can do for you or did you just come by to visit?"
"Oh. No. Well, I mean, I got this little cough for a couple days now." She raised her handkerchief to
her mouth and coughed dryly in demonstration.
"Oh? Come in and let's take a look." She guided her to the examination table and helped her up,
then found a tongue depressor and peered down her throat. Then she took out her stethoscope and
listened to her lungs pensively.
"It's not serious is it?" Dorothy asked.
Michaela put her stethoscope aside. "No, I don't think so. Let me just give you some medicine. That
should help." She walked to her cabinet in search of some cough syrup. "Ah, here it is." She
returned to the examination table. "Take this mornings and evenings until it clears up."
"Thank you, Michaela. What's that come to?"
"Ten cents for the medicine."
Dorothy opened her purse and handed her a coin.
Michaela walked to her desk and put the coin in her moneybox in the drawer. She looked up to find
Dorothy still sitting on the table, looking very troubled.
"Dorothy? Is something else wrong?"
"No," she blurted. She sighed. "Michaela, Sully's father and I, we've been taking these walks at
night."
Michaela looked at her in confusion. "Walks? At night?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"What for? Just to walk."
Michaela slowly smiled. "Oh, that sort of walk."
"And I think he's…he's grown fond of me," she stammered.
"Oh, really? I had no idea."
Dorothy looked at her apprehensively. "What do you think? I mean, is it all right?"
She shrugged. "I think it's fine. I adore William. I think it's nice you've become friends."
She got down from the table. "Michaela, the truth is I sometimes feel like I failed at my family, too."
"Dorothy, that's ridiculous. You can't blame yourself for the problems Marcus had."
"Not just Marcus. I feel like I let down Tommy and the girls, too. I haven't seen any of them in
ages."
"Well, children grow up and become very busy with their own things," Michaela said helplessly.
"Point is I understand William. I'm not sayin' he hasn't made some mistakes in his past. But we
understand each other."
"I'm glad. William needs friends right now," Michaela said.
"I have to get back to the Gazette. Thank you, Michaela."
She smiled. "Certainly."
"I didn't know they'd been walking together, did you?" Michaela asked as Sully drove her and the
children home.
"No," Sully replied quietly.
She smiled. "Dorothy's so shy about the whole thing. I was always coming to her for advice about
such matters. I can't believe now she's coming to me."
Sully gave the reins a light slap and looked out at the road solemnly.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothin'," he muttered.
"Is something wrong at work?" she pressed.
"No," he replied.
"Then what?"
He sighed. Michaela never could let him get away with not telling her everything that was on his
mind when she decided she wanted to know. "Just don't know about William courtin' Dorothy, that's
all."
"What's wrong with it?" she demanded. "I think they make a nice couple. Besides, they're not really
courting. They just enjoy walking together."
"She sure she know what she's gettin' into?" he replied.
"Oh, for heaven's sake." She shook her head. "Sully, why do you have so resentful about
everything? They're just going for walks."
"We don't know him," he said firmly. "We know nothin' about him except that he took off on my ma
and her two little boys. He abandoned us."
"Shh," she scolded, glancing back at the children. They were riding quietly holding their schoolbooks,
and she wasn't sure if they were listening to their conversation.
"Dorothy wants to get involved with a man like that, she can if she wants. Just wouldn't be
surprised if he did the same to her."
"I think that's unfair and spiteful," she immediately replied. "I've never known you to be like this."
"I never known you to be like this," he retorted.
If the children weren't listening before they were now. All three of them stared at Michaela and Sully
curiously.
"Like what?" Michaela exclaimed.
"Not caring what I been through, what he put me through," he said, swallowing hard.
"That's absurd. Of course I care. Sully, please don't tell me I don't care about you and how you
feel."
"You seem a lot more interested in two of 'em gettin' together."
She sighed impatiently. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you would have any objection to it. Next time I'll
ask you first."
He gave the reins a hard slap and the horse whinnied. "Just forget I ever said anything."
"Good, I will," she replied. She gazed at him angrily for a moment, then looked back at the children.
The boys were staring at her disconcertedly and Katie especially seemed very taken aback by their
quarrel. "Children, um, what did you do in school today?" she asked softly.
Sully silently dried the last few cups and handed them to Elizabeth to put away.
"I'm real tired," he spoke at last. "I think I'll head on to bed. Gotta be up early again tomorrow."
Michaela glanced at him worriedly. They had barely spoken all evening. But now wasn't the time to
try to patch things up in front of Elizabeth and the children. "All right. Sleep well," Michaela said.
He put his towel aside, hugged the children in the dining room and then headed upstairs.
Elizabeth stacked the cups and listened for the bedroom door to shut. As soon as she heard it she
looked square at Michaela crossly.
"All right, what on earth is going on between you two?" Elizabeth demanded.
"Nothing. What are you talking about?" Michaela said innocently as she drained the sink of sudsy
water.
"Oh, spare me," Elizabeth said. "I know something is going on. Now tell me."
"Mama," Byron called.
"We had a little disagreement if you must know," Michaela said. "But nothing serious. Now if you
don't mind I'd like to spend some time with the children. I haven't seen them all day." She walked
into the dining room where the children were gathered around the chess board.
"We set it all up," Byron said. "We're ready for our lesson."
"Good, let's begin, shall we?" Michaela said with a smile as she took a seat. "Red Eagle, why don't
you show me a good opening move."
Red Eagle absently moved one of the middle pawns to the center of the board.
"Very good," she said. "Now I'm going to do the same thing with my pawn." She moved it out.
"Now, what would you do next?"
Red Eagle stared at the board, resting his head on his hand.
"I know what I would do," Byron spoke up.
"Shh, it's his turn," Katie scolded.
Michaela put her arm around Byron. "You help Mama plan her next move."
"Go, Red Eagle," Byron said. "It's your turn."
"I don't know. I guess this one," he said, moving the last pawn on the far right of the board out.
Michaela glanced at him with surprise. Red Eagle was never so careless as to touch his outside
pawns in the beginning of the game. Clearly he wasn't paying attention.
"Are you sure?" she murmured.
"That's not really a good move," Byron said. "A better one is your knight. Right, Mama?"
"Yes, I think so," she said. "I'll move my knight next."
"Mama, what does abandoned mean?" Red Eagle asked suddenly.
She started and slowly put her knight in the center of the board. "Oh. Where did you hear that?"
she asked casually.
"Papa said Gran'pa abandoned him," he replied.
"It means he left," Katie whispered.
"Well, we…we don't know exactly what happened," Michaela stammered.
"Why would you leave your kids?" Byron asked. "Was Papa bad?"
"No, of course not," Michaela said. "Of course not. Papas sometimes leave for lots of reasons.
Grandpa said…well, he had to go away to work because the crops he was raising didn't do very
well."
"Papa sometimes has to go away to work," Katie remarked astutely. "Would he leave?"
"Would Papa leave us?" Byron whispered.
She kissed his head. "No," she replied. "No, never."
"How do you know?" Katie asked.
Michaela wasn't sure how to answer. After quarreling with Sully that afternoon, nothing out of her
mouth was sounding very convincing. "Well, I just know. I know."
The children didn't seem very reassured, but they dropped the subject for now.
"Can I do a different move?" Red Eagle asked. "I want to move my knight instead."
Michaela nodded with relief. "Yes, good. Go ahead."
Myra opened the swinging doors of the Gold Nugget and walked inside, finding Hank at the bar
smoking a cigar and nursing a whiskey. A few men were playing cards and a young prostitute was
refilling their shot glasses.
"Hank," she called.
"Myra." He perked up. "You wouldn't be interested in filling in tonight, would ya? One of my best
girls is sick."
"Please don't joke right now, Hank. We need to talk."
"Who said I was jokin'?"
She put the cameo on the counter. "Hank, this is all real flattering. But I need to tell you something
important." She took a deep breath. "I'm engaged, Hank. I'm engaged to a wonderful man back in
St. Louis and I'm very happy and can't wait until our wedding in the fall."
He raised his glass. "Congratulations. Can't say as I'm all that surprised. I knew you'd win
somebody's heart again sooner rather than later."
"The flowers have to stop, Hank," she said. "And the chocolates. And the gifts. And I hope Loren'll
give you back your money on this cameo."
She pushed it toward him. Hank picked it up and held it to the light, brushing it off with his thumb.
"That's pretty. Good choice." He put it back on the counter.
She heaved a sigh. "Hank, you're…you're making me feel…I don't know. Confused. And I don't
appreciate it. So if you could please stop I'd be real grateful." She gazed up at him nostalgically.
"Truth is, guess a part of me is always gonna feel something special for you. We been through a lot
together. But you know as well as me we could never make it work. It's time now I moved on. From
you, Horace, everything. And you should move on, too." She pushed the cameo toward him again.
"So please just take it back and we'll forget this ever happened."
He took a sip of whiskey. "Myra, I didn't get you that cameo. I never seen it before in my life. I
don't know what you're talkin' about."
"You don't?" she blurted. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Unless I'm drunker than I think I am."
"You mean you never sent the flowers either? Or the chocolates?"
"Nope." He took a puff of his cigar.
"Hank, why did you let me carry on like this then? Why didn't you stop me?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. It was kinda nice hearin' ya talk."
"Then who coulda sent them?" she asked, shaking her head. "No, it couldn't have been Horace."
"Sounds like you got yourself a secret admirer. I could try to track him down for ya if ya want."
"No thank you, Hank," she said. "I can handle this myself." She picked up the cameo. "I'll see you
around town."
"Myra," he called as she headed toward the door. "Stop by anytime. It was good talkin' to ya."
She paused and gave him a soft smile, then pushed opened the swinging doors and walked out.
Sully opened the front door and hung up his jacket. He found Michaela in the kitchen, cleaning up.
The baby was dozing in the sling around her shoulders.
"Sorry I'm so late," he said, walking into the kitchen. "We wanted to finish up the roof today."
"That's fine," she replied, heading to the stove. "Are you hungry? I can warm you up some
leftovers."
"I'm all right. We got supper at Grace's." He walked to the basin and filled it with water from the
pitcher. Then he took off his shirt and balled it up, rubbing water on his sweaty chest and sighing
tiredly. "Kids in bed?"
"Yes, for awhile now." She gazed at him a long moment. "Sully, I'm sorry we fought," she said at
last.
"I'm sorry, Michaela," he said at the same time.
They shared a soft smile and he stepped forward and hugged her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
"Me, too." She pulled back and looked into his eyes wryly. "Wash up. You smell like work."
He gave her cheek a soft, playful kiss, and then headed back to the basin.
Michaela finished wiping down the counters as she watched him clean up. He was so tan and
muscular, his strong, firm chest and back glistening with water as he washed away another hard
day's worth of sweat and dust. She suddenly felt her heart flutter and her breath catch. She had
certainly not expected to feel ready for any kind of romance so soon. She had always found new
motherhood exhausting. It took her quite awhile after giving birth to be interested in anything other
than caring for the baby, and Sully clearly wasn't expecting anything anytime soon. But tonight she
suddenly found herself wanting to be near him and feel his touch. Just as she was trying to decide
how to let Sully know what was on her mind without completely embarrassing herself, he spun
around and walked toward her, reaching into the sling and lifting the baby out.
"Hey, baby girl. Ya have a good day?" He held her against him and the baby made a few soft
sounds of content and opened her eyes briefly as she settled against her father's warm chest.
"She just had a good feeding," Michaela said.
"Good, she's got a nice full belly," he said with a smile. "Maybe she'll sleep awhile tonight."
She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, that would be good. Um, are you tired? Perhaps we should
go to bed now."
He smiled down at the baby. "You go on up. Think I just wanna hold her awhile. Feel like I ain't
seen her in days." He held the baby over his head and brought her down to kiss her forehead. "Mm,
I missed ya, Eliza girl."
"All right, I'll just go on up," she said, untying her apron and heading for the stairs.
"I'll be there in a minute," he replied, gently rocking the baby.
"Don't be long," she added softly.
Sully met her eyes, hearing something faintly amorous in her voice. He watched her head upstairs,
certain that he was misinterpreting her. After all, they were both so tired with a new baby in the
house that usually they just wanted to sleep when they went to bed. He paced with the baby in
front of the fire for a few minutes, relishing the quiet moment with her, and then he headed upstairs
to the bedroom.
He stopped short in the doorway. Michaela was standing in front of her long mirror, tying the last
few laces of the expensive lingerie Elizabeth had given her as a wedding present. He couldn't
remember the last time he had seen it. It was impractical to say the least, very rich and elaborate,
and he knew Michaela sometimes felt a little silly in it. But he always thought the garment was
beautiful and truly loved when Michaela wore pretty lingerie, and so occasionally, though very
rarely, she would put aside her shyness and get it out for him. She slowly turned to face him, lips
set in a soft grin.
"Now that I have my body back somewhat, I thought I could wear this again," she whispered. "It
still fits."
"Yeah, it does." He swallowed hard. "I'll just, uh, I'll put her in her bed. Her crib." He quickly tucked
the baby in the crib and covered her.
Michaela came up behind him and wrapped one arm around his waist, kissing his shoulder and
boldly flickering her tongue against his skin.
"You're so strong," she whispered, running her hand up his firm bicep.
He slowly turned around and she directed her attention to his chest and planted some more kisses
across it.
"Michaela, maybe ya shouldn't get my hopes up," he protested softly.
"Why not?" She glanced up at him with a soft smile and kissed his chest again.
"Ya sure you're up to this? Ya ain't tired?" he asked.
"I'm not tired. I had a long nap today. Mother looked after the baby for me." She wrapped her arms
around his back and stood on tiptoe to kiss his neck and down his jaw.
"Hey," he whispered, gently smoothing back her hair.
She pulled back and looked up at him inquisitively.
"Ya look beautiful. I like ya in this," he whispered, fingering the lace.
She smiled and pressed her lips to his in an ardent kiss as he swept her off her feet and carried her
to the bed. He kissed her lips as he unlaced her pantaloons and slid them down her thighs.
"Sully, wait," she whispered. "Let me dim the lamp."
"No, don't dim it," he protested softly.
"No, I can't relax with the lamp on. It's too bright."
"It ain't that bright. Sides, I can't see ya without it."
"I know. That's all right." She reached for the lamp and turned it down
He sighed a little impatiently. Michaela hadn't cared whether the lamp was shining in ages. Not since
they were first married and she was so misinformed she thought making love was best done under
the covers, late at night in total darkness. He had quickly broken her of that habit. He didn't mind
turning the lights off sometimes. But he liked making love bathed in full light, too, when he could
clearly see Michaela's body and watch the expressions of pleasure across her face and know for
certain whether she was enjoying herself.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, sensing his disappointment.
He gave her a soft kiss. "It's all right. Just don't be mad if my aim's a little off."
"Sully," she scolded, but he could tell she was reassured by him making light of it.
He smiled at her lovingly, then began tenderly kissing and suckling and stroking her most intimate
places. He felt her fingers running through his hair and drawing him all the closer as she sighed with
pleasure and whispered a few soft, encouraging words. Pleased with himself, he stroked her belly
and continued his ministrations. He hadn't realized how much he had missed their physical
relationship until now, and he was pleasantly surprised that Michaela seemed ready for all this so
soon. He found her hand and held it firmly in his as they both became more and more aroused by
their closeness.
Michaela suddenly felt anxious when Sully started to work at stripping off the tight-fitting bodice of
the lingerie. He slipped it over her head and then eagerly kissed her breasts while he stroked her
back. She held onto his shoulders and tried to relax and enjoy it. She had wanted to make love, felt
ready again, but was consumed by a variety of fears she couldn't even explain. Foremost she was
terribly self-conscious about her body. She worried Sully might be bothered by her thickened waist
and the row of stretch marks along her abdomen that had appeared during this pregnancy and
didn't seem to want to fade. And as much as Sully seemed to appreciate the way her breasts had
swelled, they too had developed some stretch marks, and she found them awkward and at the
moment had trouble seeing them as anything more than mere instruments to feed the baby.
Certainly not something anyone should find all that appealing. Perhaps Sully was missing the more
girlish figure she used to have when they first married, before her pregnancies.
Sully paused a moment and gazed into her eyes. "You all right?" he whispered, panting softly.
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Hm-hm."
He resumed kissing her, planting wet kisses on her neck and down her arms. She knew he would
just as soon hurry this part of the process along, but he was taking his time for her sake, so she
would feel as ready as he was. Only she couldn't seem to bring herself there no matter how hard
she tried.
"Don't be so nervous," Sully murmured, sensing her thoughts.
"I'm not nervous," she protested.
He cuddled up across her and held her face in his hands. "Yes ya are." He gave her cheeks a few
more soft kisses.
"It's just, Sully, don't you think I'm-"
"Perfect? Yeah," he replied with a smile. He ran his hand down to caress her belly. "You're
beautiful."
She felt reassured by his tender, sincere gaze. She smiled softly in reply and caressed his hair,
deciding that her fears were unfounded. Sully loved her and she would get her body back soon
enough.
"Ya ready?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
"Ya sure? Cause we can kiss an' hold some more. I don't mind."
"No, I'm ready," she replied. "Very ready."
"Good," he said with a pleased smile.
She had prepared herself for it to be different, but she hadn't expected pain. She winced and cried
out, and Sully mistook that for sounds of pleasure. He closed his eyes and moved his hips rapidly,
sighing himself.
"Sully," she protested softly.
"What?" he whispered.
She bit her lip bravely and gripped his shoulders. "Nothing. Go slower, all right?"
He kissed the tip of her nose and then her lips. "Yeah, sure. We'll go slow." He moved more slowly
but very deeply, and the pain didn't go away like Michaela hoped. If anything it was getting worse.
It suddenly felt sharp, and she panicked.
"Sully. Stop. Don't. Stop, stop!"
"What's wrong?" he murmured
"I don't know. Just stop!" she cried, pushing on his chest. "It hurts!"
He immediately withdrew and caressed her face. "What happened? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You all
right?"
She looked down in a panic, eyes welling with tears. "Oh, that hurt. It felt like something tore. Am I
bleeding?"
He glanced down and soothingly stroked her thigh. "No, you're all right. You ain't bleedin'." She
burst into tears and he immediately drew her into his arms. "Michaela, I'm sorry. Did I hurt ya? I'm
sorry."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sully. I can't. It was just unbearable," she stammered.
"That's all right. That's all right. Think maybe we took this a little too soon? What's it been, three
weeks?"
She rubbed at her tears with the back of her hand. "Three and a half."
"We'll just wait a little longer, try again," he said reassuringly. "It'll be all right."
"Maybe it was too soon," she murmured. "But I felt so ready."
"Your body's just been through an awful lot havin' a baby," he replied. "Makes sense it's gonna take
some time."
She was so touched by how understanding he was. He didn't make her feel like he was annoyed or
even the least bit impatient with her for abruptly cutting short everything. He just wanted her to feel
better. He gave her another tight hug and kissed her hair. "I'm sorry that didn't feel good. Didn't
mean to hurt ya."
"I'm sorry," she whispered back.
"Shh, it's all right," he replied, lovingly stroking her hair. "Here, let's just hold each other, huh? That
don't hurt, does it?"
She smiled softly and gave his lips a gentle peck. "Thank you."
He caressed her cheek. "You're welcome."
to be continued...
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Chapter Fifteen
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Sully took his bank draft from Horace, thanked him and then headed down the street for Preston's.
He didn't prefer that Preston be the one to give him his cash for his hard work all week, but the
railroad didn't pay in cash. Horace was required to give the men a bank draft that they could take to
any bank.
"I'm closing up, Sully," Preston said as he turned the dial on his safe. "Bank hours."
Sully approached the counter and put the draft on the counter. "Was hopin' you could cash this for
me first."
"Oh. I suppose," he said grudgingly. He walked to his counter and took the draft, then opened his
safe and counted out several bills and a few coins. "So, I hear your father's in town. I never knew
you had relatives."
Sully eyed him impatiently. "Well, I do."
"Why did he leave in the first place?"
Sully narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the counter. "How'd you know about that?"
Preston blinked. "Word travels fast." He put the money on the counter and slid it forward. "Here
you are," he said. "You can count it."
"I trust ya," Sully said, putting the money in his jacket pocket.
Preston grabbed his briefcase and walked out to the waiting room. "What was it, another woman?
It's always another woman. Men never leave unless there's another woman."
"Why don't you just stay out of this, Preston," Sully replied.
Preston chuckled. "So there was someone else. Your mother couldn't keep him in line, could she?"
Sully impulsively grabbed his collar and shoved him hard against the door.
Preston grabbed Sully's arms and dropped his briefcase. "Sully, wait," he stammered.
"Ya ever say anything else about my ma you'll pay," Sully said vehemently. He shook him. "You
understand?"
Preston managed a nod.
Sully released him, then grabbed the door and opened it, shutting it firmly behind him.
Michaela was locking up the clinic, the baby in her sling and her medical bag in hand, when Preston
walked over swiftly, rubbing his neck.
"Oh, good afternoon, Preston," she said as she put her keys in her purse.
"Michaela." He eyed her severely.
She cleared her throat. "Is something wrong? Are you ill?"
"Yes, something's wrong. Tell your husband if he ever does that again I'm pressing charges for
assault. I'll see him thrown in jail."
Her face fell. "What on earth are you talking about? What happened?"
"You can ask him that," he retorted. He spun around and headed back to his bank.
"Oh, that pattern's just awful, Brian," Sarah said as they leaned over the store counter and browsed
a catalogue. "How can you like that?"
"They all look the same to me," he replied, flipping a page. "I think we should just pick one."
"Just pick one! Oh, Brian. Pretty dishware is what makes your house a home. This is a very
important decision that could affect us the rest of our lives."
He raised his eyebrows. "If you say so. I care a lot more about the food on my plate than what the
plate looks like myself."
Loren chuckled quietly and continued stacking some cans on a nearby shelf.
She pouted. "Now you're making fun of me. And I don't appreciate it."
"I'm sorry. I'm not makin' fun," he said, touching her back and giving her a kiss. "You pick out
whatever dishes you think are gonna be best. I'll leave it up to you."
She beamed. "Oh, Brian. Really?"
"Whatever ya want," he said, rubbing her back.
"Let's see," Sarah said, smiling as she flipped through the catalogue. "I like the Wedgwood like your
ma's. Simple. Traditional. But I don't know, that rose pattern is pretty, too."
Loren approached the counter. "If you two spend this long on just orderin' dishes you're never
gonna have that house ready in time for your weddin'."
"Sorry, Mr. Bray. We'll take the Wedgewood," Sarah said, pointing at the catalogue. "Can you order
it for us?"
He pulled the catalogue toward him. "Sure thing. It'll take a couple weeks though."
"That's all right. We have time. Thank you." She grasped Brian's hand and they headed out the door
and walked to his wagon. Just then William opened the boarding house door.
"Oh, there's Gran'pa," Brian said. He waved at him and William waved back.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Sully," Sarah said. She approached him and clutched his shoulders, giving his
cheek a kiss.
"Oh, my," he said with a smile. "Good afternoon, lassie. And you should call me William. Or
Grandpa. After all, you're marrying my grandson."
She smiled back. "Grandpa. I'd like that."
"How are the wedding plans coming along?" William asked.
"There's sure a lot to do," Brian said. "Sorry, we can't really talk. We gotta head over to talk to the
Reverend. Again."
"Now don't sulk, Brian," Sarah said. "You know the marriage counseling is a good thing. It's helping
us."
"Yes, you should go, son," William said. "I wish they had that sort of thing when I was your age."
"Yeah, I guess it's a good idea," Brian said as he lifted Sarah into the wagon. "We'll see ya later,
Gran'pa." He climbed up and gathered the reins, giving them a slap. "G'up."
Sarah glanced back at William a moment. "Brian, we never really invited your gran'pa to the
wedding. We should send him an invitation. Even if he can't come, he should be invited."
"Yeah, he should," he said. He hesitated a moment. "Don't know how my pa's gonna feel about that
though."
"Oh, right," she murmured. "Well, let's ask your pa then. Tonight."
"All right. Sure." He smiled at her and gave her a playful kiss. "Come on. Let's head over there and
get this over with."
"It was nothin'," Sully said as he washed up after doing the chores.
"He'll have you arrested and thrown in jail was nothing?" Michaela retorted as she took down a
stack of plates for supper. "What did you say to him to make him react like that?"
"Wasn't what I said. It was what he said."
"Then what did he say?"
The children listened to the conversation attentively from the dining room where they were finishing
their homework with Elizabeth's help.
"Children, do your reading," Elizabeth instructed. She was rocking the baby gently as Eliza dozed.
"Just don't worry about it, all right?" Sully replied as he dried himself off with a towel.
"No, we're not letting this go just like that. I want to know what happened. Did you make some sort
of threat? Sully, how could you do that?"
He folded his arms. "So because he and Claudette got something' goin' on between them now we
gotta be nice to him after the way he tried to foreclose on our homestead?"
"Claudette has nothing to do with it. And those problems with our loan were ages ago. I just don't
think we should go around threatening people, Preston or not."
He slammed the towel down on the counter. "He was talkin' about my ma, is that what ya wanna
know? Implied she wasn't all she could be in a wife."
She quieted a moment. "Oh," she murmured at last. She opened the drawer and took out some
silverware. "Well, you could have at least politely asked him to stop."
"Polite and Preston don't mix," he replied.
Brian opened the door, holding Sarah's hand. "Hey, everybody," he said cheerfully as he hung up his
hat.
The children didn't jump up to greet him as they usually did. Red Eagle gave Sarah a little wave and
Byron and Katie just looked at them solemnly.
"Brian, Sarah," Michaela said hoarsely as she stepped toward them. "Oh. What are you doing here?"
Brian blinked. "You said I should bring Sarah over for supper, remember?"
"Oh. Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, I forgot."
"Is this a bad night?" Sarah spoke up awkwardly. "We can go get somethin' at the café instead."
"No, of course not," Michaela said. "I'll just put out two more plates."
Sully walked silently past Michaela and headed outside, not saying a word to anyone. She watched
him go, then sighed and walked back to the stove to check on the roast in the oven.
"It's called a groom's cake," Sarah explained as she finished eating her pie. "Everybody down South
does it."
"I get a cake just for me?" Brian asked skeptically.
"Oh, yes, I've heard about that tradition," Elizabeth remarked. "I think it's rather sweet, don't you,
Michaela?"
"Yes, I like that. That's lovely."
"Sweet? Lovely?" Brian blurted, glancing at Sully.
"He don't really need that, does he?" Sully spoke up helpfully, taking a sip of coffee. "They'll be
plenty of cake to go around."
"I think the more cake the better," Byron spoke up, and everyone laughed. He drank the last of his
milk. "What? We're gonna need lots of cake."
Michaela patted his hand. "Yes, you're probably right, sweetheart. It's getting late. You should head
up to bed. All of you."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied as Katie and Red Eagle got up and cleared their plates.
"Goodnight," Sarah said.
"Night, Sarah," Katie said.
"Night, everybody," Red Eagle added.
"Brush your teeth. I'll tuck you in in a minute," Michaela said.
"Have you finished your guest list yet?" Elizabeth asked, stirring her coffee.
"Yep, invitations went in the mail awhile back," Brian said. He cleared his throat and Sarah grasped
his hand, giving him an encouraging nod. "Uh, Pa, me and Sarah been thinkin'."
Sully glanced up curiously. "'Bout what?"
"We thought we'd like to invite William to the weddin'. Add him to the guest list."
Sully avoided his eyes and took a sip of coffee. "William'll be back in St. Louis by then, Brian."
"Just the same we thought it'd be nice we give him an invitation, let him know we want him there,"
he replied.
"He's such a kind old man," Sarah added.
"Well, I think that's very thoughtful of the two of you," Elizabeth said. "I think it's only right he be
invited."
"It's nice you want to include him," Michaela added softly.
Sully glanced at Michaela impatiently.
"But, only if it's all right with you," Brian said, looking at Sully nervously.
"If you're askin' my permission I ain't givin' it," Sully said firmly.
"Sully, they ought to invite him," Elizabeth scolded. "He is his grandfather."
"And I ain't gonna have him spoilin' my son's weddin'," Sully replied.
"Spoiling it for Brian, or for you?" Elizabeth demanded.
Brian cleared his throat. "Well, I just thought maybe the two of you could put aside your differences
for the day. Thought maybe this could work."
"Differences? That what you call this?" He stood up.
"I don't think he's asking a lot, Sully," Michaela spoke up. "He's right, it's just for one day."
"You got a right to invite who ya want to your weddin'. But I ain't gonna approve of it," Sully said,
heading swiftly for the door and heading outside.
Elizabeth heaved a sigh. "Honestly."
Sarah rested her hands in her lap timidly. "I'm sorry, Dr. Mike. I didn't know."
"No, it's all right. You were doing the right thing."
Brian patted her back. "Let me drive ya home, Sarah."
Sarah stood and Brian helped her with her shawl.
"Thanks for supper, Dr. Mike." She leaned forward and kissed Michaela's cheek. "Goodnight."
Michaela squeezed her arm. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Drive carefully."
Michaela kissed Red Eagle and held him close. "Big hug," she whispered unsteadily.
The children seemed to realize she was upset about something, and had been especially
affectionate when she came up and tucked them in, as if trying to cheer her up.
"Hug me again. Hug me," Byron called, holding out his arms.
Michaela got up and sat on his bed, holding Byron just as close. "I love you, monkey. Sweet
dreams."
"I love you. I want Papa to tuck us in, too."
"Yeah, I want Papa," Red Eagle added.
"No, just Mama tonight."
"No, Papa, too," Byron insisted. "Papa, too."
"Byron, no," she said more firmly. "Go to sleep, boys." She got up and blew out their lamp, then
headed to Katie's room.
The little girl was curled up on her side, clutching her stuffed bear.
"You didn't get our book out. Don't you want to read a chapter together?" Michaela asked, sitting on
the bed.
"No, not tonight," Katie whispered.
Michaela crouched down and kissed her forehead. "All right. Sweet dreams."
"Mama?" Katie whispered. She looked up at her hesitantly. She wanted to ask if what had happened
to Samantha's mother and father could ever happen to her own parents, but was too afraid of the
answer.
"Yes?" Michaela prompted.
Katie bit her lip, quickly scrambling to come up with something else to ask. "Could you braid my hair
tomorrow morning?"
Michaela eyed her skeptically for a moment. "Yes, of course." She hugged the little girl tightly. "I
love you. So much."
"I love you, Mommy," Katie whispered, quickly wiping away a small tear that had fallen down her
cheek.
"It's Brian's wedding and I think Sully has no right to do this to him," Michaela said impatiently as
she handed Elizabeth a dish to dry.
"Well, I hate to see it all drawn out like this," Elizabeth admitted.
"Sully's had to forgive a lot of people in his life. He's always found a way to make peace before. I
don't know why he won't now."
She stacked the dish on the counter. "It's just not that simple. He blames William for his mother's
death. It's obvious. What he needs to realize is that his mother wasn't perfect either. We'll never
really know if William could have made a difference in what happened to her. Ultimately she made
the choice to end her life, and unfortunately those left behind must live with that."
Michaela wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "If this were Father, if he made a mistake that caused us
to suffer and then later asked for forgiveness, we would give him that. We would welcome him
back."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"What? What do you mean?"
"As much as you adored your Father, there were a few times when he did disappoint. He was only
human, Michaela."
"Father never disappointed me, Mother. He was everything a child could ask for in a parent."
"That's not how you felt one spring day when he told us he was leaving for Europe."
"Europe?"
"Yes, and as I recall you vowed never to forgive him, and meant it."
"Those poor, poor people," Michaela remarked as she cut into her beef tenderloin. "Can you
imagine, Father? Everything you've ever worked for gone."
"Yes, it's terrible," he replied.
"Well, I don't know what we're supposed to do about it," Claudette remarked. "Just let them all
come here? I should think not."
"They let our grandparents immigrate here. Why, we wouldn't even be in Boston otherwise,"
Michaela replied. "I don't see why we shouldn't allow in everyone in Ireland who wishes to come."
"Oh, Michaela, you're so daft, so stupid! It'd be a logistical nightmare!" Marjorie exclaimed, rolling
her eyes.
"Daft! Stupid!" Michaela exclaimed. "You take that back, Marjorie Quinn!"
Rebecca and Maureen had married and moved away some time ago, but Claudette and Marjorie
weren't quite old enough to be married just yet, though both of them were courting eligible young
men who lived near Beacon Hill who more than exceeded their mother's expectations. But age had
not matured them much in Michaela's eyes. At times she couldn't wait for her red-headed sisters to
move out. They still tortured her at every opportunity, and tonight was no exception.
"I don't have to take anything back if I don't want to," Marjorie retorted.
"Yes you do!" Michaela replied. "Father, Mother, make her take that back!"
"Michaela, lower your voice," Elizabeth said automatically. "There's no use quarrelling over this.
Immigration is up to the politicians, not fourteen-year-old young ladies."
"Why must we talk of such unpleasantness at the supper table?" Claudette demanded. "I'm losing
my appetite."
"Get your elbow off the table, Michaela," Elizabeth scolded, pointing her fork at her. "And stop
swinging your legs."
"Uh, she's such a tomboy," Marjorie griped.
Michaela removed her elbow from the lacy tablecloth and stilled her legs. Elizabeth had a sixth
sense about manners. Somehow she always knew when Michaela was in violation of some rule of
etiquette or another, whether she was watching her or not. At fourteen, Michaela was starting to
look more like a woman and less like a little girl. Her voice was sounding much more mature, she
had grown taller and thinner, and she was starting to develop breasts and a few curves. Her first
monthly had just recently started as well. But she continued to make Elizabeth positively batty
oftentimes, refusing to wear a corset, insisting on tagging along with Josef on all his house calls and
to the hospital for his rounds, and still preferring to romp outside with the boys of Beacon Hill rather
than sit by the fire and do needlepoint, drink tea and take piano lessons. Her boyish habits were
really starting to worry Elizabeth, and she was forever correcting her youngest daughter.
"What do you think of all this, Father?" Michaela asked more quietly. "Should we allow all of Ireland
to come to America?"
Josef rang the little bell beside his plate and Martha came scurrying in from the kitchen. "Some
brandy, Martha. Please," he said.
"Father?" Michaela pressed.
"I'm not certain, Mike. But I have an announcement to make."
"Oh?" Elizabeth replied.
He patted his lips with his napkin and nervously put it back in his lap. "I've been corresponding
lately with Dr. Auguste Nélaton. Or rather, he's been corresponding with me. He's a celebrated
surgeon in Paris who works at St. Louis hospital in the city. He's been experimenting with a variety
of new techniques."
"What sort of techniques?" Michaela asked inquisitively.
"Well, he has many brilliant ideas for repairing damaged arteries and veins. He's saved many lives.
And he's looking for someone to assist him. He'd prefer an American."
"Oh, how exciting," Michaela replied. "I wonder who will apply? Think how much one could learn
from someone like him!"
"As a matter of fact I applied myself. And today I received his letter of acceptance," Josef replied
bluntly. Martha brought the brandy and filled a glass, and Josef took a swift swig.
Elizabeth and the girls stared at him in shock.
"Josef! You applied? Why on earth would you do that?" Elizabeth demanded suddenly.
"Elizabeth, it's a wonderful opportunity," he replied. "I could hone my skills, become even better at
my craft."
"Paris! Oh, think of the shopping there!" Claudette gasped.
"You're not coming, Claudette," Josef said. "None of you are. I'm not going to drag my family all the
way to Paris. It's just a one-year residency. I'll try to come home for a few weeks during the
Christmas holiday."
"Just a year? What about your practice?" Michaela demanded. "All your patients. Father, they need
you!"
Elizabeth resumed eating her meal. She had expressed her disapproval, and that was all she would
do. Ultimately whatever Josef did was his decision.
"My patients will be waiting for me when I get back. And using what I learn from Dr. Nélaton I could
help them all the better."
Michaela shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks. "But what about….what about me? Father,
you're teaching me so much about medicine. I'm learning new things every day. What will I do
without you?"
"I'll make arrangements for you to study under one of my colleagues, Mike," Josef said desperately.
"No one will want her studying under them," Marjorie pointed out cuttingly.
"Marjorie," Elizabeth scolded gently.
"Well, it's true," she replied. "She's still not a boy, though it's hard to tell these days."
"Father, don't do this," Michaela pleaded. "Please, you can't." Anger suddenly flickered in her eyes
and she stood up. "How could you be so selfish? How could you just abandon Mother and your
daughters and all your patients for some famous surgeon a thousand miles away! I hate you for
this!" She spun around and stormed up to her room.
"Michaela!" Elizabeth called firmly. "Michaela, come back down here and apologize this instant! How
dare you speak to your father that way!"
"Elizabeth," Josef said, holding up one hand to stop her. "It's all right. I deserved it." He finished the
rest of his brandy, then abruptly stood up. "I need my pipe," he muttered.
Josef rapped lightly on Michaela's door.
"Go away," Michaela said, her face buried in her pillow as she sobbed into it.
"Mike? It's your papa. Please let me come in and speak with you." He paused a moment. "Martha
made you some tea with honey. I know how you like that." He slowly opened the door, holding a
tea cup.
"Oh, Mike," he murmured, walking to her bedside and putting the cup on the nightstand. "Oh, I
never intended you'd be so upset."
She sat up and threw her arms around him, sobbing onto his shoulder. "Oh, Papa," she cried. "What
will I do without you for an entire year?"
"A year must seem like such a long time to someone as young as you," he admitted, patting her
back. "I supposed I'd forgotten that." He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at her tears.
"It's forever," Michaela whimpered. "I feel like I'm never going to see you again."
"Nonsense. I'll come home before you know it with lots of new ideas and techniques to share with
you. Doesn't that sound lovely? Why, I'll even send you the books I'll be studying over there. Don't
tell your mother."
She slowly pulled back, gazing into his sad blue eyes. "Father? Are you and Mother…is there
something wrong?"
He sighed. "You're as shrewd as ever, my Mike," he whispered.
She sniffled. "Then there is something wrong."
Michaela was well aware her parents had had a rocky marriage in recent years. She had always felt
for certain that they cared for each other, but she knew how much Elizabeth hated the way Josef
encouraged their youngest daughter's love of science and medicine, allowing her to study alongside
him when Elizabeth would have preferred she be learning how to be a respectable lady who could
find a good husband the family could be proud of. It all seemed so pointless, she had heard
Elizabeth tell him on many occasions, for Michaela was destined to court, marry, and have children
like her older sisters and every other young woman of Beacon Hill. She couldn't possibly work
alongside her father once she was married. No husband would ever allow it, it was as simple as
that. What was he thinking filling her head with formulas and anatomy diagrams and other such
nonsense?
Josef would always counter that times were changing, that Mike had a brilliant mind, and more
importantly, a deep passion for her work, and that it was an absolute sin to let it go to waste, and
that perhaps she was destined for an unconventional life and that there was nothing wrong with
that. And so the argument would go on and on in an endless circle. Michaela often heard them
quarrelling long into the night about matters pertaining to her.
"It's nothing you need to be concerned about, all right, Mike?" he said.
"Is it about me? You've had a falling out over me again?"
"Mike, please. Don't burden yourself. You take such responsibility for everything."
She narrowed her eyes. "So you're just going to leave us and run away across the ocean? Sounds
awfully cowardly to me."
"Bite your tongue, young lady," he said firmly. "You may be my medical student, and a very capable
one at that, but you're still my daughter."
She softened a little. "I'm sorry, Father."
He sat on her bed, gently taking her hand. "Let me explain something to you. You've been lucky in
that you see your parents all the time. Some families, the fathers have to go far away to work and
hardly ever see their children. Well, now I must do the same. But the good news is we know exactly
when I'm coming back. So now I need you to be a brave girl, all right? Can you give me a little
smile?"
She still thought he was running away from his troubles, but she kept quiet this time. She sighed
and grinned ever so slightly.
"Good girl." He kissed her forehead. "It's very late. Drink your tea, get into your nightclothes and go
to bed, all right? I'll send Harrison up to build you a nice fire for the night."
"Goodnight, Father," she murmured.
"Goodnight, Mike," he replied.
"My God, that child is perceptive," Josef remarked as he entered the master bedroom and walked to
the fire, grabbing a poker and stirring the logs.
Elizabeth was sitting up in bed with a book, her hair in a long braid down her back and the covers
tucked neatly up to her waist. "I hope she's finally stopped sobbing. She sounds positively pathetic
when she does that."
"Yes, she's gone to bed."
"She's so dramatic and emotional at times. At least in one way she's all girl."
"Takes after her mother," he replied softly.
"Me? Emotional? I should think not," she said. Elizabeth prided herself on always keeping her
composure, on not letting her guard down no matter how upsetting the situation might be.
Truthfully she had no idea where Michaela had learned to be so weepy. Oftentimes, Elizabeth
wondered if Michaela was even her daughter at all, they were so very different. She paused.
"Though perhaps I am a bit dramatic when I want to be."
He chuckled softly and walked behind the screens to change into his nightclothes.
"Mike thinks my going away has to do with her. Because of you and I, our differences of opinion
when it comes to her."
"Does it?" Elizabeth murmured.
"I think we'll still have our differences when I return," he replied softly. "Though I think this time
apart may serve us well."
"Josef, all I'm saying is she's just gotten out of hand. It was fine when she was younger, but she's
practically a woman now. You do realize all our friends think she's, well, peculiar. Different. They
don't hesitate to tell me so every chance they get. It's become so humiliating."
He laid his trousers over the screens. "She is peculiar, Elizabeth. But in a wonderful way."
"In your opinion."
"She's just intelligent, Elizabeth, that's all. The most intelligent child I've ever met. She only seems
strange to others because they're afraid of her."
She chuckled, flipping a page in her book. "You mean afraid for her."
He walked to the bed in his nightshift and got under the covers beside her. "You haven't said much
about this, dear. What do you think of Paris?"
"I hear the food there is exquisite," she replied.
"Elizabeth," he scolded gently.
She closed her book. "All right, I don't want you to go. Is that what you want to hear? I too think
you're running. As much as we may disagree when it comes to Michaela, you're her father and a
father ought to be in his daughter's life. I think you're putting your pride and your career ahead of
us." She took a deep breath. "I think if a man intends to leave his wife, he ought to do so
straightforwardly, and not make excuses like this."
"Elizabeth, I'm not leaving you. I would never leave," he admonished.
"Well, that's what it feels like to me. And more importantly to Michaela."
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he murmured. "I never intended…"
She put her book aside. "I'm very tired. I really can't draw this out any longer. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Elizabeth," he whispered, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Goodnight, dear."
Michaela rested her head against one hand and leaned over a cardiology textbook of her father's. As
much as she had positively pined for Josef since he left for Paris a month ago, her desire to study
and educate herself as much as possible in preparation for medical school had not abated. If
anything her love for all things medicine was only strengthening as the lonely weeks passed.
Elizabeth knocked on her open door. "Michaela? Won't you join me for tea in the parlor? Your sisters
are all gone for the afternoon."
"I'm busy, Mother," she murmured.
"Surely you can stop just for a moment for some tea. Even your father would say so."
"I suppose. After I finish this chapter," she replied, turning a page.
"I heard from him today. Your father," Elizabeth remarked.
Michaela brightened and looked up at her. "You did? Why didn't you tell me? What did he say?"
"Well, he had some important news. He's leaving early. He's coming home on the next passenger
vessel bound for Boston. He'll be here in two weeks."
She put her pen down. "I don't understand. He's not supposed to return until next summer. What
about the residency?"
"He's quitting the residency. He apologized again and again for ever leaving." She cleared her throat
and stepped closer to her. "If you'd like, I'll allow you to drive with Harrison down to the harbor and
greet his ship when it arrives. If you promise to stay away from all the questionable characters down
there."
Michaela's smile faded and she sulked a bit. "No."
"No?"
"I meant what I said. I'll never forgive him for what he did." She folded her arms crossly.
Elizabeth sighed. "Michaela, I know it's hard to believe, but your father is just a man. A man capable
of making mistakes just like the rest of us. Don't be too hard on him, dear." She grasped her
daughter's shoulder and gave her head a feather-light kiss. "Come downstairs. I miss your company
when you lock yourself in your room with your books like this all the time."
Michaela smiled softly. As often as Elizabeth made her so angry she could scream, she still longed
for her love and affection and approval. To hear that her mother missed her made her feel better.
"All right, Mother. Let's have some tea."
Michaela sunk into a chair at the kitchen table. "I'd completely forgotten about that, Mother."
"Well, you were always able to look on the bright side. To forget the hard times easily."
She gazed out the window pensively for a moment. "Mother, could you stay here and watch the
baby? I need to find Sully."
"Certainly," she replied. "Take as long as you need."
to be continued...
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Chapter Sixteen
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As the sun set, Michaela rode out to the ridge overlooking the canyon, hoping Sully would be there.
The beautiful lookout was one of their favorite places, and she knew he often came out to the quiet
spot to think. She was relieved when she spotted Sully's horse Buck tethered to a tree.
Sully turned with his arms folded and walked toward her. "How'd you find me out here?"
"I just had a feeling this is where you would be." She dismounted Flash and tethered her beside
Buck. "It feels so good to be back on a horse again. I can't tell you how much I missed riding."
"I think Flash is glad to have ya back, too. Don't think she really liked me."
Michaela patted Flash's shoulder and then approached Sully. "I don't mean to intrude. If you want
to be alone that's all right with me. But I was talking to Mother tonight and she reminded me of
something I want to share with you."
"What's that?"
"Well, when I was a child my father did something that hurt me deeply. Hurt all of us really."
"Your pa? What could he have done?"
"He accepted a year-long residency in Paris and left us all for Europe. He and Mother weren't
exactly getting along at the time and I always suspected that was partly why he left. I felt like he
had given up on her, our family, that he was leaving us. Me."
He stepped closer to her, intrigued. "You never told me about this before."
"Honestly, I'd forgotten about it. It was so painful and so I suppose I chose not to remember.
Father felt so guilty he returned after only a few months. But it took me a long time before I was
ready to have him back in my life." She folded her hands. "When we're young, our parents are
supposed to be the most perfect people in the world. When they don't live up to that, it's difficult to
accept. I suppose it was at that moment I realized my father wasn't the saint I thought he was, and
it was hard to bear." She reached out and gently squeezed his arm. "I know it's not the same as
what you're going through. I know it can't even compare. But I want you to know I understand how
it feels to be hurt and betrayed like this. And how hard it is to forgive."
He drew her into his arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry, Michaela. I'm sorry about all of this."
"Shh, it's all right," she murmured. "It's all right."
"Michaela, I just keep thinking', maybe my ma wouldn't of done it had he been there. Maybe she
never woulda killed herself. I don't wanna blame other folks for it but I do. I blame him."
"I know, I know," she whispered reassuringly. "It's all right. Shh."
"I lost my ma," he whispered back. "I was ten years old and she was gone for good. I lost my
childhood."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "I know. It was terribly unfair. I'm so sorry that happened to you."
She caressed his face in her hands. "No child should have to go through what you did. You were so
brave."
He hugged her again, rocking her for a long moment. "This is gonna take time. We gotta give this
time."
"I know. I'll try to be more patient. We all will."
"Meantime, I ain't gonna begrudge the kids a chance to know their gran'pa. Brian wants him at the
weddin' he should invite him. And the kids should spend as much time as they want with him."
"I think that's a good first step," she replied.
He put his arm around her. "I could use some hot coffee right about now. What do ya say we head
home?"
She smiled as they headed to their horses. "Let's go home."
Sully gazed up at the ceiling as he tenderly held Michaela's hand in his. Michaela had initiated their
romance when they returned home from the mountain lookout. She led him upstairs and they
undressed each other in front of the firelight. He kissed her and caressed her even longer than they
usually did in the hopes that it would help her. But when he finally slipped himself gently between
her legs she panicked and told him it hurt and they had to stop.
He wasn't sure what to say to her to reassure her. He could tell she was feeling guilty, responsible,
was blaming herself for everything when he knew it was something she just couldn't seem to help.
He didn't know how to convince her that he wasn't angry, that he loved her and was going to be
patient and understanding for as long as it took.
Suddenly she let out a soft sob and tears fell down her cheeks. Sully quickly shifted to look at her
and caressed her cheek. "Oh, shh, it's all right," he murmured.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sully. I tried, I really did."
"Course ya did. I know ya did."
She sniffled and wiped away her tears. "Let's just, I want us to try again. I'll just bear it." She
caressed his chest. "Let's try again. I promise I won't say anything."
He gazed at her sympathetically. "Michaela, you don't have to do that. I don't want us to do this it
hurts ya. I'd never want ya doin' somethin' that hurts." He drew her into a warm hug. "Shh, it's all
right. I'm sorry it hurts. Just sleep, all right? It's late."
She shifted back and pressed her lips to his for a long moment. "I love you. I love you so much."
"I love ya, too," he whispered, holding her all the closer.
"Just think ya should see a doctor. What if somethin's wrong?" Sully said as he leaned against the
counter and watched Michaela wash the breakfast dishes.
"How are we going to afford it? We just spent all of our money on hospital bills in Denver. Not to
mention we still owe Andrew for my dilation and curettage."
"I'm workin' now, I got good money comin' in. We can pay for it." He grabbed a dishtowel and ran
it inside a coffee cup.
"Sully, this is all so private. I can't picture discussing all the details of this with Andrew."
"Ya don't have to tell him everything. Just tell him you're havin' some pain. Maybe he injured ya
when he did the surgery. He should take a look."
She put her dishcloth aside and dried her hands. "Couldn't you come with me? I don't want to go
alone."
"I gotta work today."
"You could take a few hours off, couldn't you? Please?"
He rubbed her back. "I can't, Michaela. You'll be all right. You're makin' this out to be a lot more
than it is. Why don't ya ask Dorothy to go with ya?"
She shook her head.
He sighed. "All right, maybe in a couple weeks when we're finishin' up, maybe I could take some
time off then."
"A few weeks? What about in the meantime?"
He stacked the cup on a shelf. "Guess we're gonna have to be patient. I'll go hitch the wagon, we'll
head into town."
She dried her hands off on her apron. "All right. All right, I'll go. Today."
He rubbed her arm, smiling softly. "Good."
"What on earth are you two talking about? Is there something wrong?" Elizabeth demanded, slowly
entering the room with her cane.
Sully cleared his throat. "No, nothin'. Let me get to that wagon." He quickly headed out the back
door, leaving Michaela alone with her mother.
"Mother, I wish you wouldn't spy all the time," Michaela said, shaking her head.
"I wasn't spying. I don't spy. Never. I simply overheard," Elizabeth felt her forehead. "Michaela,
you're so pale. Are you ill?"
"No, not exactly."
"Well, then what is it? Tell me. What's this about seeing Dr. Cook?"
"Mother, I think in this particular instance you'd rather not hear about this."
"Nonsense, of course I do. If my daughter's ill I have a right to know."
"I'm not ill. I just…Sully and I, we…" Her face reddened. "Ever since the baby's born I've been, I've
been having some pain. I mean when we, when we-"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Elizabeth muttered.
"I told you you'd rather not hear this."
"Well, it's too late now. Of course you're having pain. Everyone does. You're supposed to have
pain."
"I'm not supposed to, Mother. I didn't even have stitches."
"Well, you're just going to have to bear it. Sometimes the wifely duty isn't pleasant and we just
have to be brave."
"That's not how Sully feels. He doesn't think we should try again until I'm examined by a doctor."
"What do you expect Andrew to do about it? He can't do anything. It's a waste of time. No, I'm
afraid you're just going to have to live with it."
"I appreciate your optimism," Michaela said
"Well, I don't know what to say. You brought it up."
"You made me tell you," Michaela protested. "And I'm sorry I did."
"Michaela, I'm sorry. Forgive me, I just…I don't know how to respond."
"You managed."
She gave her arm a gentle pat. "If you really insist on seeing Dr. Cook would you like me to come
with you? I could stay with the baby while you're in his office."
"Truthfully, that would help a lot. If you don't mind. Unfortunately Sully can't get away from work at
the moment."
"Good. We'll go this morning then," Elizabeth said. "Don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing."
"I hope you're right," Michaela murmured.
Michaela watched nervously as Andrew laid out his instruments on a tray. He fumbled and nearly
dropped a pair of forceps, but he quickly recovered and placed them back on the tray. He had her
legs in stirrups and had covered them modestly with a white sheet.
"Do you have pain at any other time?" Andrew asked uncomfortably. "It's only when you, um, you-?
"
"Yes, it's only then," Michaela said, just as embarrassed. "No other time."
He tentatively lifted up the sheet. "I'm just going to feel inside. I'll be as gentle as I can."
She nodded and breathed slowly as he began the examination. She was relieved that it didn't hurt,
but also perplexed. It was unbearably painful when Sully touched her in the same area. It didn't
make sense that it didn't bother her to have a doctor take a look.
"I'm wondering if it's an injury from the birth," Michaela remarked.
"I know for certain you had no significant tearing, at least that I could tell," Andrew remarked.
"Though I suppose it's possible your cervix was injured during the dilation and curettage. I'm going
to use the speculum, all right?"
"Yes, do what you need to do," she said with a stiff nod.
"What about the postpartum bleeding?" he asked. "Has it stopped?"
She gripped her pillow and winced as he inserted the cold speculum, then closed her eyes and tried
to be patient as he continued his examination. "Almost. It's just a little spotting right now."
At last he straightened, perplexed. "Cervix looks normal. Everything looks normal. I'm sorry,
Michaela., I don't know why you would be having discomfort. Maybe you should see an obstetrician.
They would, um, I assume they would have more experience with this." He removed the speculum
and put it aside.
"I'm sure he'll tell me the same thing."
He drew the sheet down over her knees. "The only thing I can recommend at this point is to give it
some time." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you're feeling a little overwhelmed by everything you've
been through. Your baby's birth was traumatic. I would think it's normal to feel different after going
through something like that."
"I feel fine about her birth. I can't even remember most of it," Michaela said. "I know it's not that."
"Well, then just give it time. Wait for the bleeding to stop completely. It takes time to heal after
having a baby. It's best to be patient."
"Be patient," she echoed uncertainly.
He patted her hand. "I'll leave you to get dressed."
Horace sorted through the mail and put it in the mail slots. Samantha was on a stool happily
stamping some letters at his counter. He stopped short and gazed at the return address on an
envelope. He turned it over skeptically.
"How's this, Papa? I'm finished," Samantha announced.
"That's real good, honey," he replied fleetingly. "Can you wait here a minute? Watch my telegraph?"
"Sure, Papa," she said obediently, putting the stamp aside and jumping down from her stool. "Papa,
can we go to the meadow and play on the swings? Can you take me?"
"Yeah, we can do that. Later, all right?" He walked outside and found Myra sweeping the steps of
the railway station.
"Myra," he called, approaching her with the letter. "Myra, you know somebody named John
Madigan?"
She snapped her head up. "John Madigan? Oh….did he write?"
He looked at the envelope. "John Madigan, Vice President. Anchor Line Steamboat Company. Who is
he? Why would he be writing you?"
Her cheeks flushed. "Well, he's a friend. A good friend."
He eyed her skeptically. "Just a friend."
She rested her hands on top of her broom. "Oh, Horace, I was gonna tell you. I promise I was. I
was just waitin' for the right time."
He lowered the letter. "Tell me what, Myra?"
She took a deep. "Well, truth is we're…we're engaged."
He stared back at her in shock.
"Horace, I know this comes as a surprise. It was sudden for me, too."
"Myra, I didn't even know you were courting again!" he exclaimed. "How long's this been going on?
Why didn't you tell me?"
"Maybe because I thought you'd act like this, looking at me like I'm making some big mistake."
"Vice president of a steamboat company? How'd he end up courting you?"
"Thank you, Horace. That makes me feel real good," she murmured, handing him the broom and
quickly walking down the station steps.
"Myra. Myra, honey. Come back," he called. "Myra, I didn't mean it that way. I just, I'd like to know
a little more about him."
She spun around, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't really know why you need to know anything
more."
He stepped toward her. "I have a right to know anything I want about this man if he's going to be
takin' part in my daughter's life. Is he good with her?"
"Of course he's good with her. He has a son Samantha's age. Do you think I would marry someone
who didn't just adore Samantha?"
He folded his arms skeptically. "Where are you going to live? Are you moving?"
"Yes. He has a house a few miles away. Sam's going to have her own bedroom on the second
floor."
"What about school? I don't want her to have to go to a new school."
"She's not going to a new school. She'll be at the same school she's always been at. Now could I
have my letter please?" She held out her hand.
Horace reluctantly handed it over. "Well, guess I should say congratulations."
"Don't say that. I know you don't mean it," she replied. She turned around and hurried down the
street for the boarding house.
Samantha shyly appeared in the doorway, watching her mother take off.
"Papa?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"
He quickly rejoined her. "Nothing's wrong, honey. Nothing at all. You wanna go swing now?"
She nodded and he lifted her into his arms, giving her a loving hug.
Michaela picked at her potatoes with her fork, pushing them around on her plate. She was seated in
the café across from Elizabeth, desperately trying to work up an appetite. The baby was in her pram
beside them.
"Well, at least there's nothing wrong," Elizabeth remarked awkwardly. "Not physically that is."
"I'm not imagining this, Mother," Michaela replied.
"No, no, I'm not saying that." She cleared her throat. "Well, I think you just need to … relax. Just
focus on the task at hand instead of everything else that's happening. Perhaps you could make the
two of you a special supper. A good meal always calmed your father down after a long day's work.
He was quite the changed man once it was time for bed."
"Mother," she said, glancing up with embarrassment.
"Well, it's true."
"You've never breathed a word about you and Father before. At least not about that."
"Well, it was never relevant before." She sighed. "Oh, Michaela, stop giving me that look. I'm just
trying to help."
"You're embarrassing me," she replied. "Not that I expected anything less."
"Why don't you ask Myra to look after the children tomorrow evening? I'll go along and bring the
baby. You can have some time alone."
"I don't know," she replied, taking a small bite of her potatoes.
"Michaela, whatever the trouble is, you're not going to solve it with a houseful of children to look
after. You two need some time alone."
She glanced in the pram at Eliza, who was fast asleep after a good feeding. "I'm not ready to leave
the baby yet."
"It's just for a few hours. Not too long. She'll be fine. You both will."
"You'd really look after her for me?" Michaela murmured. "I suppose it would be nice to cook
something special, have the house to ourselves."
"See?" She glanced up as Myra came into the café and waved to Grace. "There's Myra now. You can
talk to her."
"Mother, I don't know," Michaela said.
Elizabeth flagged her down. "Myra!" she called.
Myra's usual smile was gone, but she scurried over. "Afternoon, Mrs. Quinn. Dr. Mike." She tickled
the baby's cheek. "Eliza."
"Afternoon, Myra. How's your visit going?" Michaela asked.
Myra raised her eyebrows. "Well, it's been…interesting."
"Is something wrong?" Michaela asked.
"Well, truth is, Horace is still hangin' onto the idea that we might get back together," she breathed.
"Oh," Michaela murmured.
"He keeps sending me flowers and gifts and things like that. I don't know what to do."
"Oh, dear. Have you talked to him?" Michaela asked.
"Well, not exactly. At least he knows about my fiancé now. Only, I didn't get to tell him the way I'd
hope."
"Oh, Myra. I'm sorry," Michaela said.
"I suppose there's no easy way to give him such news," Elizabeth remarked. "Won't you join us for
some coffee? Sit down, Myra."
Myra took a seat. "Samantha doesn't have any complaints at least. She just loves your daughter.
She's all she talks about!"
"Katie loves her," Michaela replied with a smile.
Elizabeth nodded in Myra's direction impatiently.
"All right, Mother. All right," Michaela said, shaking her head. "Myra, I wanted to ask you a favor."
"Oh, sure, Dr. Mike. Anything."
"I was hoping you could watch the children tomorrow night. The baby, too. Mother said she'll come
along and help you with her. Not too long, just for the evening."
"Well, sure. I can do that," Myra said. "But what for?"
She took a sip of coffee. "Well, I, I thought…that is, my mother thought it might be beneficial if
Sully and I, we have an evening to ourselves."
"Oh, an evening to yourselves is always good," Myra said with a twinkle in her eye.
"She and Sully have a slight problem," Elizabeth added.
"Mother," Michaela scolded softly.
"Oh," Myra stammered. "Everything all right, Dr. Mike?"
"Yes, we're fine," she said quickly.
"It's a little….bedroom problem," Elizabeth further explained.
Myra coughed and Michaela turned bright red.
"Mother, really!" Michaela exclaimed.
"What? It can happen to anyone. Even you two."
"We just, we need a little privacy," Michaela explained helplessly.
"You can count on me," Myra said, patting her hand. "I'll look after the children as long as you
need."
She sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Myra. I appreciate this."
Sully opened the front door to a multitude of pleasant aromas. He put his toolbox beside the door
and hung up his jacket, glancing at the dining room table. He was surprised to see the good candles
and lace tablecloth out, and the table set for just two. He suddenly noticed how quiet the house
was, save for someone chopping in the kitchen.
"Welcome home," Michaela called softly.
He walked into the kitchen. Michaela was wearing an apron and her cheeks were flushed. "Smells
good," he said.
She added a handful of chopped zucchini into a pan heating on the stove to sauté.
"Where is everybody?" he asked, grabbing a piece of raw zucchini off the cutting board and popping
it into his mouth.
"Myra's watching them this evening. Mother's helping."
"Baby, too?"
"The baby, too," she replied, picking up a long wooden spoon. "I thought it would be nice if you and
I had supper together."
"That sounds real nice," he replied, walking to the basin and pouring water inside. "Let me just
clean up." He lathered up his hands and rubbed the bar of soap down each of his fingers, trying to
wash away some of the dirt and grime from the day. "There some special occasion?"
She casually stirred the zucchini in the pan, holding the handle with a towel. "Well, I just thought it
might help if we have some time alone. I mean with…with the trouble we've been having. I've been
having."
He cleared his throat, rinsing his hands in the basin. "Oh. Yeah. Good."
"I went to see Andrew today," she murmured.
"Good, ya did? What'd he think?" He dried his hands off with a towel.
"Well, he doesn't think I have any injuries from the birth."
"That's good, right?"
"I suppose so."
"What's he say it is? Why's this happening?"
"He doesn't know. He probably thinks it's all in my head. He said we should just be patient."
He walked toward her and rubbed her arm. "I know it ain't in your head. The pain's real to ya, I
know it is. I'm sorry you're goin' through this."
She stepped into his embrace and hugged him. "Thank you, Sully. Thank you for being so
supportive, so understanding."
"Just want ya to feel better," he replied softly.
"Sully, what if … what if it doesn't get better?"
He took a deep breath, pulling back and clutching her shoulders. "Well, we'll face that when the
time comes."
She pulled back to gaze into his eyes. "Sully, emotionally you complete me in every way possible. I
love you so deeply I could never put it into words."
He smiled and caressed her cheek.
"But we've built a beautiful marriage on more than that," she murmured, swallowing hard. "Our
physical relationship, it's special to me. Very special."
"Special to me too," he whispered.
"Before I married you, I didn't realize how powerful it would be. I didn't realize how much I would
…. I would desire you. It's as if you and I, we were made to join together."
"We were," he replied softly.
She looked down, blinking away tears. "I just, it frightens me what we had might not be there
anymore. It could be changing for good."
"I know this is scary," he whispered. "But we're gonna face this together."
"But would you still be happy married to me if making love wasn't very good anymore?"
"Michaela, that ain't the reason I married ya. I married ya because you're my partner in everything I
do. I want you by my side the rest of my life."
"But you were happy it was so good," she whispered shyly.
"Sure, course I was. Makin' love's always been real good." He gently tickled her cheek. "You were a
real fast learner."
"Sully," she protested softly.
"Michaela, what I'm tryin' to tell ya is it's just one part of our marriage. Course I'd miss it, but it
don't mean I feel any different about ya. We can still support each other and find other ways to
show each other we care about each other. Michaela, I love you and I'm gonna make things work
between us no matter what happens."
Tears welled in her eyes and she hugged him again.
"Let's not worry too much just yet," he said reassuringly. "Andrew's right, we gotta be patient. I
think we'll figure this out if we just give it some time."
She nodded and sighed as he rocked her. Suddenly he looked up, sniffing the air.
"What's that smell?" he asked. "I think somethin's burnin'."
"The Cornish hens!" she exclaimed, spinning around and grabbing a towel off the counter.
"Cornish hens?" he repeated.
She opened the oven door and dark smoked bellowed out. Sully grabbed another towel and fanned
it away as she coughed and pulled out a roasting pan.
"What are those?" Sully asked, gazing distrustfully at two small birds charred and smoking. "They
look like baby chicks."
"They're not baby chicks," she protested. "Cornish hens are a delicacy. We have them in Boston all
the time."
"Still look like chicks to me," he said skeptically.
"Well, they've very burned chicks then," she said dismally, dropping the towel on the counter.
"That's all right, I wasn't that hungry anyway. Hey, you know somethin' that I don't think is ever
gonna change?"
"What?" she murmured.
"Your cookin'."
She chuckled and put her arm around him, giving him a soft kiss.
"Wanna go over to the meadow and play cricket, Sam?" Byron asked. "Our gran'pa taught us."
"Come on, Sam. Come play," Katie encouraged.
Samantha was sitting on the porch of the boarding house, arms wrapped around her legs dejectedly.
"What's wrong?" Katie asked.
"Nothing. It's just…it's not working."
"What's not working?" Red Eagle asked.
"All the flowers and things. I don't think it's working. My mama and papa still hate each other. They
still fight."
Katie crouched beside her and patted her arm. "My mama and papa fight too, sometimes."
"Don't worry. We just gotta keep trying," Byron said.
"Sometimes it takes a long time," Red Eagle explained helpfully. "It took Brian a real long time to
marry his friend Sarah. They're still not married!"
"That's different," she muttered.
"Hey, I know! I got it!" Byron exclaimed.
"What?" Samantha asked.
"They need time to themselves. Just like our ma and pa. They always wanna be alone and have
supper. Your folks could have supper at the café."
"Yeah. A special supper," Katie added.
"Good idea!" Red Eagle said. "What about Friday?"
Samantha looked up at them hopefully. "Think that'll work?"
"Yeah, it'll work. Come on," Byron said as he spun around and jogged toward the telegraph office.
"Hey, Mr. Bing," Byron said as the children walked into the telegraph office.
"Oh, hey, kids," Horace replied as he stamped some letters. "What are you up to?"
Byron nudged Samantha in the arm.
"Papa?" she murmured.
"Yeah? What is it, honey?" he replied, crouching down and picking up a package.
"Well, see, Mama wants to meet you at the café."
"She does?" he replied with confusion. "Why?"
"She wants to have supper with you," Byron spoke up.
"Now?" he blurted.
"Tomorrow. At six. She told us to tell you," Red Eagle added. He reached his hand behind his back
and crossed his fingers.
"She did?" He paused a long moment, brow wrinkled. "Oh, well, all right. I'll be there."
"Yea!" Samantha exclaimed. "I mean, I'll tell her. Gotta go. Bye, Papa."
"Bye, Mr. Bing," Katie said.
The children quickly ran out and Horace watched them go with raised eyebrows. "Oh. Bye," he
called.
"I don't know about this," Katie murmured as they headed to the café. "Aren't we telling a lie?"
"I feel bad about lying," Samantha added.
"It's not really lying," Byron said. "Well, maybe sorta."
"Just tell her your papa wants to have supper," Red Eagle said. "That's not lying."
"Yeah, that's not lying. He does," Byron spoke up.
"You sure?" Samantha asked.
"We're sure," Byron said resolutely.
"All right," she said with a sigh as they headed into the café and spotted Myra drinking coffee with
Elizabeth.
"Children, there you are," Elizabeth called. Eliza was cradled in her lap and Elizabeth was dabbing at
her tiny nose with a handkerchief. "You missed it. Your sister just made the sweetest face when she
sneezed."
"She stuck out her tongue and wrinkled up her nose," Myra added.
"She always makes funny faces," Byron said, crouching down and kissing her. "Hey, Eliza. Hey. Did
you make a funny face again?"
"What are you children doing?" Myra asked curiously.
"Nothing," Byron blurted.
"Nothing," Red Eagle added.
Samantha clutched Myra's arm. "Papa wants me to tell you something, Mama," she began.
"He does? What?" she asked.
"He wants to meet you here at the café for supper tomorrow."
"At six. Don't be late," Red Eagle said.
"Wear your prettiest dress," Byron added. "And put some perfume on like my mama does."
Myra chuckled. "Why would Horace want to meet me for supper? What's the occasion?" She glanced
at Elizabeth with raised eyebrows.
Katie shrugged innocently. "We don't know. Maybe he thinks you're special."
"Yeah, special," Byron added.
Myra smiled shyly. "Well, all right. Tell him I'll see him then."
Samantha beamed and hugged her.
Michaela shifted uncomfortably again as Sully laid beside her and kissed her deeply. He was running
his hand up and down her thigh and had been fully aroused for some time. But as usual he put her
needs first and was being incredibly patient while he gave every inch of her body his doting
attention.
He rubbed her arm and she shivered under his touch. "Michaela, you're shakin'."
"I'm sorry. I'm thinking too hard about this."
"Don't think," he said.
"That's not in my nature," she replied with a little twinkle in her eyes.
He gently kissed her lips. "We'll take it real easy all right?" he whispered. "Real slow and gentle. Ya
don't gotta think. Just leave it to me."
She nodded and held onto his back as he kissed and suckled at her neck while stroking her bottom
sensually with both hands. Finally he shifted to lie across her and glanced down. She instinctively
wanted to draw her legs together and protect herself, but she forced herself to stay calm and keep
everything relaxed.
"Don't hold your breath," he instructed tenderly. "Keep breathin'."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, slowly letting out her breath. "Wait. Wait, not yet."
He paused a moment, watching her face while she took a few deep breaths.
"All right," she whispered. "All right."
"I'm just gonna do this real, real easy. All right?"
She nodded and kept breathing in and out as he slowly lowered himself into her. Suddenly her
breath caught and she cringed.
He squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. "Michaela, it hurt?"
She nodded vehemently, clutching his shoulder.
"Ya want me to stop? Tell me what ya want."
"No, let's keep trying," she instructed breathlessly. "Keep trying."
He carefully shifted to slip himself even deeper inside her, watching her intently.
She groaned softly. "All right. All right, it hurts. Let's stop." She suddenly panicked. "Sully, it hurts, it
hurts. Stop. Stop, stop."
He immediately withdrew. "All right, all right. We're stoppin'. It's over."
"Oh, it hurts so much," she murmured tearfully, closing her eyes. "I can't."
He caressed her cheek sympathetically. "What's it feel like? I don't know why this is happening. I'm
sorry."
"Shh, it's all right. Shh. We just need to give it a little more time."
"We've given it weeks. It still doesn't feel any better."
"Ya sure ya don't got some kind of injury when ya had the baby? Maybe somethin' deep inside?"
"I don't think so. Neither does Andrew." Her lip trembled. "I just don't know what's wrong. I'm
sorry, Sully."
"Shh, don't be sorry. It's gonna be all right. Hey, ya wanna just kiss some?"
She sniffled. "Are you sure?"
"Course I am. I love kissin' ya," he said with a soft smile.
"This isn't exactly what I had in mind for our special evening," she murmured.
"It's all right. I still had a good time," he replied. He caressed her cheek. "Come 'ere."
She cuddled up close to him, pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arms tightly around his back.
to be continued...
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Blood Ties
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17.Chapter
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Chapter Seventeen
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"Time to go," Michaela said as she locked the clinic door, her jacket over one arm and the baby in
the other.
Red Eagle bounced a large rubber ball to Samantha on the porch. "Can we stay in town, Ma?" he
asked. "Please?"
She spun around. "Oh, I don't know about that, sweetheart. It's getting late and you have
homework, don't you?"
"Not a lot," Katie said, catching the ball and bouncing it back to Samantha. "Besides, it's Friday. We
have two days to do it."
"How are you going to get home?" Michaela asked skeptically.
"We'll walk," Byron said, standing up on her bench to be eye level with her. "It's not far. We've done
it before."
"But all by yourself? You've never done that before."
"No, Ma, we won't be by ourselves," Byron said with a giggle. "They'll be three of us!"
"Please, Mama?" Katie implored. "We want to stay in town and play with Samantha. We'll be real
good."
"We'll be good, Dr. Mike," Samantha added. "All of us."
Michaela thought it over a moment as she shifted the baby to her other shoulder. The children
weren't so little and helpless anymore, as much as she missed those days. Katie was almost nine
years old, and all of them were becoming more independent. When Brian was that age he was
walking to and from town on his own and to friends' houses without any trouble. She supposed it
was time she allow the children a little more freedom, even if she hated to let go of them.
"All right, you can stay in town," she replied. "But I want you to be home by six o'clock, before it
gets dark. That means you need to start walking home well before then. Do you understand?"
"Six o'clock! We promise!" Katie replied.
"Thanks, Mama!" Red Eagle cried.
She smiled and gave him a hug. "Behave," she said wryly.
"We will!" Byron shouted, jumping down from the bench as she climbed up into the wagon. "See ya,
Mama."
She chuckled and waved at them. "See you."
"Hey, Miss Grace," Byron called as the children filed into the café.
Grace closed a pot of stew and put her towel aside, giving him a hug. "You children are in town late
today. Where's your ma and pa?"
"They're at home. We're here all by ourselves," Red Eagle said.
"Yeah. We're big kids now," Byron added proudly. He eyed a pie sitting on the table doused with
cinnamon and waiting to be put into the oven. "Can we have an apple slice?
"Oh, I s'pose," she said with a chuckle. "Just one."
The four children each grabbed an apple slice and Grace chuckled and picked up a pot of coffee.
"Well, you wanna help me tend to my customers?"
"Yeah, could we?" Katie replied.
Grace handed Samantha and Katie a few mugs. "Follow me."
"You'd be surprised, you can use just about any type of log as long as it's straight," Kirk said as he
dug into his stew at a table for two in the center of the café. Danielle was eating some crackers in
the highchair next to him and Faye was across from him. He took another large bite of stew.
"Conifers are the best though, durable but not too heavy."
Faye picked at her stew and heaved a sigh.
"You know. Conifers, honey. Pine, fir, spruce," he said.
"I know what conifers are," she muttered.
"Sapwood, now that's something you oughta stay away from. Gets infected too easily with fungus.
You'd have to tear down the whole building." He paused a long moment and watched Faye stare at
her plate dejectedly. "Faye? What's wrong?"
"Kirk, I can't listen to you prattle on like this all the time about construction work. It puts me to
sleep."
"Prattle on. Honey, you never said I was prattlin' on before."
"Well, I'm sayin' it now."
"Sorry. Just stop me next time I'm borin' ya this much. I'll keep my mouth shut," he muttered.
She sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean that. I just…I don't feel good. I feel funny. Hot."
"Oh. Honey, I'm sorry. You wanna move to a table in the shade?"
"No, you just finish up and let's head home."
"Yeah, sure thing," he said as he shoveled stew a little more quickly into his mouth.
"Kirk, Faye!" Byron called, jogging over to them with Red Eagle. "Want some dessert?"
Faye smiled faintly. "Hey, pumpkin. Where's your ma?"
"Home. We're big kids now. We're helping out Miss Grace."
"Afraid we're gonna pass on dessert today," Kirk said as he scraped up the last of his stew. "We're
headin' home in a minute."
"And I suppose that's my fault," Faye said grumpily.
Kirk eyed her in confusion. "No, honey. No, I didn't say that."
"If you want dessert I'll wait," she replied, crossing her arms petulantly. "Don't worry about me. I'll
just sit here and feel funny while you enjoy your pie. Take your time."
"Honey, no, that's all right," he said desperately. "I don't want dessert. I hate dessert."
Byron's face suddenly lit up. He nudged Red Eagle. "I got an idea!" he whispered.
"What?" Red Eagle whispered back.
"Kirk, you play the fiddle, right?" Byron asked.
"Well, course I do. Why?"
"Samantha's ma and pa are gonna have supper here tonight," Byron explained. "A special supper. All
alone."
"Yeah. They're gettin' married again," Red Eagle explained.
"They are?" Faye blurted.
"They are?" Kirk echoed. "I didn't know that."
"Yep, they're falling in love," Byron explained. "And Samantha's gonna move back to Colorado
Springs."
Danielle pointed at the boys happily. "Ba!" she shouted.
Faye shared a perplexed look with her husband. "Married? Well, that's good news, isn't it, honey?"
She picked up a napkin and wiped the baby's hands and face.
"Yeah, sure. That's great news."
"Maybe you could play them pretty music," Byron said. "To make them fall in love more. You know,
when they eat supper."
Kirk smiled. "You want me to play music while they eat? What is this, the big city?"
"Yeah. All the restaurants we went to in Boston had fiddles," Red Eagle said. "And they played lots
of pretty music for us."
Byron wrinkled his brow. "Mama calls it … ro …. ro-ma …. what's it called when you fall in love?"
"Romantic?" Faye said with a wry smile. She stood and lifted the baby out of her high chair.
"Yeah, that's it! Romantic!" he exclaimed.
"Well, I reckon I could. I'd have to run home and get my fiddle," Kirk said. "And take Faye home
first. She's feelin' poorly."
"I said I'm feelin' funny, not poorly," Faye retorted.
"Oh. Well, what's the difference, honey?" he said. "What time's this special supper, kids?"
"Six o'clock," Byron said.
"I'll be there. And my fiddle, too!"
"Six weeks old, I can't believe it," Michaela said as she lifted Eliza out of her cradle.
Eliza waved her arms and gurgled, staring up at Michaela contentedly.
"She's a talkative baby. I love those little sounds she makes," Elizabeth said with a chuckle.
"I love these little toes," Michaela said, kissing the baby's foot. "Yes, Mama does."
The baby gurgled and grunted more vigorously in response.
Sully opened the door and put his toolbox on the table. "House is awful quiet. Where are the kids?"
Michaela turned to face him. "Still in town. I told them they could stay for a little while and play with
Samantha."
He walked to her and picked up the baby. "Hey, sweet girl. How was your day?"
"Aren't you at all surprised?" Michaela said.
He smoothed the baby's hair. "About what?"
"I mean, that I let them stay in town by themselves."
He shrugged. "They're old enough."
"You think so?" she said hesitantly. "Now I'm not so sure."
"Oh, of course they're old enough," Elizabeth said dismissively. "I let you skip around all over
Beacon Hill at that age with David and Jimmy."
"Who's this Jimmy?" Sully asked skeptically. "Another of your many beaus?"
Elizabeth laughed. "Don't worry, Sully. Not at all."
She chuckled. "No, believe me. He was practically born a clown."
"Oh, good," he replied. He cuddled the baby close. "Papa doesn't like to hear about all of Mama's
beaus."
"Don't worry. There weren't very many," Elizabeth said. "Not compared to your sisters and all the
gentlemen always knocking on the door for them. I'm afraid you were not very popular."
"Mother, that's not true. I had some callers," Michaela said defensively.
"Well, if you count you and your father's patients you had lots of people calling then," she said.
Sully chuckled and kissed her. "I better start the chores. Supper ready soon?"
"Yes, half an hour," Michaela replied, taking the baby back from him. "The children should be home
just in time."
Dorothy clutched a few bundles of flowers as she and William strolled into the little graveyard next
to the church.
"The railroad inspector comes next week," William explained. "As soon as he approves the building
we all get paid."
"And then what will do you?" Dorothy asked quietly.
"Miss Myra and Samantha are leaving shortly after. I'll be going home with them."
"You could stay on longer, William," she said. "I for one don't want to see you go so soon."
He sighed. "Well, I think it's probably better I leave. It's what Sully prefers."
They reached Abigail and Hanna's markers and Dorothy laid one of the bundle of flowers down.
"Abigail was always a happy young girl. But I remember when she met Sully, she lit up like never
before. Oh, and when she found out they had a baby on the way? The two of them both were just
as thrilled as they could be."
"Hanna," William whispered, gently touching his fingers to the cross. He looked up solemnly. "And
my grandson? Where is he?"
Dorothy led him a few yards away to Jack's marker. She put the other bundle of flowers down.
"So much sadness," William whispered. "I never wished to add to the burdens that Sully already
carries."
Dorothy put her arm around him reassuringly. "It's getting dark. Let's head back."
"What if he doesn't come?" Samantha asked as the children hid behind some bushes just outside the
café and watched the table where Myra was sitting. She was sipping some coffee and watching the
entrance impatiently.
"He'll come," Red Eagle said reassuringly. "He said he would."
"There he is!" Katie suddenly screeched as Horace walked into the café.
"Shh!" Byron scolded.
She covered her mouth. "Sorry."
"He came!" Samantha whispered. "Papa!"
Horace spotted Myra and approached her, removing his hat and placing it on the table.
"Evening, Horace," she said with a soft smile.
He pulled out a chair. "Sorry I'm late. Important telegram just came in from the railroad and I had
to take it down."
"That's fine. I ordered the special for us. Roast turkey. That all right?"
"Sure, sure." He rested his hands on the table and cleared his throat. "Well …. how are things?"
"Good. How are things with you?" she replied awkwardly.
"Fine." He paused. "It's been real good to spend time with Sam. She's sure growin' up fast."
"Oh, I know. I can't believe it."
Grace carried over two steaming plates. "Here we go, folks," she said. "Enjoy."
"Thank you, Grace," Myra said as she put her napkin in her lap.
Horace picked up his knife and fork and cut his turkey. They ate in awkward silence for a long
moment until Myra put down her utensils and looked up at him.
"Horace? I'm sorry I didn't tell you about John sooner. That was a big mistake."
He slowed his chewing.
She sighed. "It's just, .things had only just started getting better between you and me. We were
gettin' along so well and I know how happy that makes Samantha when we don't fight. I didn't want
to spoil it all by telling you I was engaged."
"That's not it. Myra, I want you to move on. I think we both should. I want you to get married again
if that's what you want."
"You do?" she murmured.
"I guess I'm just…I'm worried about Samantha."
"Horace, I promise you John's going to take good care of us. He and Sam get along real well."
"That's just it. I'm afraid she …. "
"What?" she prompted.
"Afraid she might forget about me once she gets a new pa. Maybe she won't want to visit her real
pa anymore."
She rested her hands in her lap. "Oh, Horace. Do you know how much our little girl loves you? She
talks about you all the time. And every night she says goodnight to you and blows you a kiss. No
one can replace you in her eyes. I'm only sorry I haven't brought her out here to visit more often."
"I want to be in her life, Myra. I want to do more for her. She's the best thing that ever happened
to me and I want to do all I can to see to it she knows that."
"You know, Dr. Mike said she'd help out if I wanted to send Sam out here on her own. Maybe she
could spend the summer here next year. She'll be a big girl by then. Ten years old. Old enough to
ride a train by herself."
"The whole summer? Myra that'd be … that'd be perfect."
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Good, let's plan on it."
"Myra, I appreciate you inviting me out like this. I think it's good we have time alone to talk about
these things from time to time."
"Me invite you? I didn't invite you. You invited me, Horace."
"No, I didn't. The children said you wanted to meet me here."
"No, Horace. The children said you wanted to meet me!" She stopped short. "Wait a minute. You
don't think they … ?"
"What?"
"I think the children arranged this supper, Horace."
"But why?"
"I have no idea. Horace, was that you givin' me all those flowers and chocolates? And that bath?"
"Bath?" he blurted. "Chocolates?"
Kirk walked over with his violin. "Care for some music, folks?" He raised his violin under his chin and
began playing a slow ballad.
Horace and Myra exchanged puzzled glances.
"Where are the children anyway?" Myra asked.
"I don't know. I thought Samantha was with you."
"Horace, why would you think she was with me if I'm here at the café with you?"
"It's working!" Samantha whispered. "Look, it's working. They're holding hands! They're talking!"
"We did it!" Byron cried. "They're in love again!"
"They're in love!" Red Eagle breathed.
William came up behind the children, Dorothy on his arm, and tapped Samantha on the shoulder.
"Children, what are you doing?" he asked curiously.
"Gran'pa, Miss Dorothy," Byron choked, spinning around guiltily. "What're you doin' here?"
"We were taking an evening walk and we saw the bushes moving," William explained.
"Are you hiding from someone?" Dorothy asked.
"No. Nobody," Samantha blurted.
William glanced inside the café and spotted Horace and Myra enjoying their meal. "Oh, you're not
having supper with your parents?"
"No. Miss Grace already fed all of us," Samantha explained.
"It's late and it's getting cold. I think you should head home now, don't you?"
"What time is it?" Katie asked.
He glanced up at the sky. "Oh, I'd say about quarter past seven."
"Seven!" Katie exclaimed. "Oh, no!"
"We're in trouble," Red Eagle said. "Big trouble. We were supposed to be home at six."
William grabbed Byron's hand. "I'll drive you home, how's that?"
"And I'll walk you over to the boarding house, Samantha," Dorothy offered.
"Yes, you run along with Miss Dorothy," William said.
"All right, Will. See you later."
"Bye, Sam," Katie said as she watched Dorothy and her friend head down the street.
"Thanks, Gran'pa," Byron said, giving him a little hug.
"Oh, of course," he replied, smoothing his hair lovingly.
Michaela glanced at the clock again and paced worriedly in front of the fireplace. Sully was leaning
against the dining room table and Elizabeth was holding the baby in one of the chairs. The plates
were set around the table and supper was dished out, cold and uneaten.
"I never should have let them stay in town alone," Michaela said restlessly. "I knew this was a bad
idea. What was I thinking?"
"Yes, what were you thinking anyway? I told you so," Elizabeth said.
"Probably just lost track of time. You know how kids are," Sully said reassuringly.
She looked out the window. "Sully, now it's dark. They could lose their way on the walk home."
"Oh, dear," Elizabeth murmured. "Sully, maybe you should go look for them. I think it's been long
enough."
Sully hadn't been worried until both the women became so distressed. He was beginning to wonder
if they were right and something might have happened to the children. "I'll saddle the horses," he
said, walking toward the door and grabbing his jacket. Just as he opened the door William pulled up
with the children.
Michaela raced to the door when she heard the wagon, Elizabeth following her.
"Oh, they aren't leaving their rooms for a year," Michaela said angrily. "Byron, Katie, Red Eagle!"
she shouted, clamoring down the porch steps and hurrying toward the back of the wagon. "Are you
all right? Where were you? What happened? I was worried sick!" she exclaimed, giving them a hand
down from the back of the wagon..
Sully walked briskly up to William, narrowing his eyes angrily. "What were you doin' with the kids?
Where'd you take 'em?"
"Sully, wait, let me explain-" he began, climbing down from the wagon.
"We didn't know where they were for more than two hours!" Sully retorted. He grabbed his collar
angrily. "You stay away from 'em!"
"Papa! No!" Byron cried. "It wasn't him!"
"He just brought us home, Papa!" Katie said. "It was our fault we were late!"
"I was just helping them get home, Sully," William said quietly. "I wasn't with them until just now."
Sully slowly released his hold, realizing his error. He backed up and looked at the children,
swallowing hard. "Where were ya?" he asked quietly.
Katie bent her head guiltily and let out a quiet sob. "Please, Papa. We're sorry."
"We were just in town," Red Eagle said helplessly.
"Doing what?" Michaela demanded. "I told you to be home by six! Do you realize what time it is?
It's half past eight!"
Byron bent his head. "We didn't have a watch."
"No excuse, young man," Michaela replied. "You should have asked someone for the time." She
pointed at the door. "Get inside immediately. Go up to your rooms."
The children trudged inside past Elizabeth.
"Thank God they're all right," Michaela said, letting out a sigh. She grasped William's hand. "Thank
you for bringing them home. Thank you so much, William."
"Don't be too hard on them. They were hanging their heads the whole drive here," he replied,
squeezing her hand and climbing back up onto the seat. He grabbed the reins and gave them a
slap, heading out toward the road.
"That was kind of him to do that," Michaela murmured, glancing at Sully.
Sully didn't reply. He nodded toward the door. "We're gonna need to punish 'em."
"Yes, I know," she replied.
"Come on, let's get it over with," he replied, putting his arm around her.
The children were in their nightclothes and lined up in the dining room in front of the adults, all of
them looking terribly guilty.
"I just don't understand what you could have possibly been doing all this time," Michaela said. "Or
where your heads were."
"You scared your ma, all of us," Sully added. "We thought somethin' happened to ya."
"Did you stop and think for a moment about how we would feel when you didn't come home?"
Elizabeth demanded.
Katie reached her hand up and swiped away a small tear.
"Don't you have anything to say for yourselves?" Michaela demanded.
"It's a secret," Byron said very quietly.
"What?" Michaela replied.
"It's a secret, Mama," he said a little louder.
"Well, I've about had it with all this secrecy. I want it to stop." She folded her arms crossly. "No
friends for the rest of the week. No baseball and no going into town except for school and church."
"No friends?" Red Eagle murmured. "Not even Samantha?"
"Not even Samantha. I want you to come straight home from school and do your homework and
your chores. And when you're done with that you can sit in your rooms quietly. Do you understand?
"
They nodded solemnly.
"And you're gonna apologize to your ma," Sully added. "Right now."
Red Eagle sniffled. "I'm sorry, Ma."
"Sorry," Byron echoed sadly. "Sorry, Ma."
Katie frowned. "I'm sorry, Mommy."
Michaela sighed and stepped close to them, drawing them into a gentle hug. "All right. The
important thing is you're home safe and sound. Go up to bed and go to sleep."
Sully drew Michaela to his bare chest and tenderly stroked her back. She was curled up against him,
silently pondering the events of the past few hours.
"Michaela, we did the right thing," he said at last.
"I know. It's just I hate punishing them. They looked so heartbroken."
"Only way they're gonna learn."
"Perhaps I overreacted in the heat of the moment. Perhaps two or three days of punishment would
be better."
"No ya don't. Don't give in just cause they gave ya some sad faces."
She chuckled softly. "Those sad faces are my undoing."
He squeezed her shoulder and kissed her brow. "Yeah, me too sometimes."
"I wish I knew what they've been up to all this time. It's all so mysterious."
"I'm startin' to wonder too," he admitted.
"You? You who never meddles in anyone's business, ever?" she said teasingly. "You said let them
have their secret. Just leave them be. Remember?"
"Well, I didn't know it was gonna go on this long," he said defensively.
She giggled and shifted up to kiss him. "Mm. We should get some sleep. I love you."
"I love you." He caressed her cheek. "Hey, ya know somethin'? You're a good ma. You're a real
good ma, Michaela."
She smiled softly. "You know something? We make a good team."
He gave her another soft kiss and drew her all the closer, closing his eyes.
Sarah walked through the open doorframe of their new house and smiled as she spotted Brian
seated on a stool writing something with a pencil.
"Look at you hard at work," she said teasingly. "I thought you were sanding the floors today."
He chuckled. "I'm takin' a break if that's all right with you."
She came to his side and gave him a sweet kiss. "I can't believe how good it's comin' along. It's
almost ready for moving in day."
"Yeah, I guess it is," he replied, glancing up at the ceiling. Their little house was going to be a
wonderful start for them. It had a large kitchen, a sitting room with a cozy hearth and a little
bedroom in the back. He could always add on when they had children, but they both wanted to wait
at least a few years for that. And by that time maybe they could afford a bigger piece of land and
he could build a larger house. But for now what he had built was going to suit all their current
needs nicely.
She gave him another soft kiss. "To think you're making this all by yourself. I'm marrying a very
talented man."
He smiled at her appreciatively and went back to his letter.
She rubbed his back, glancing at the paper. "What's that?"
He glanced up hesitantly. "Just writin' back to my pa. Ethan. Lettin' him know I'm lookin' forward to
seein' him."
She stepped back. "Oh."
He sighed, dreading what he had to tell her. "Sarah, I been thinkin'. I'm gonna ask him if he'll be a
groomsman."
"What? We have groomsmen. Stephen and Kirk."
"Yeah, I know. But I thought three won't be too many."
"I don't believe this. I just don't believe it," she muttered, shaking her head. "No, this'll never work.
I don't want him to be a groomsman."
"Sarah, I didn't tell you who your bridesmaids could be. I thought this was my decision."
"Why, is there somebody you object to?"
He stood, putting the letter on the stool. "No, and even if I did I wouldn't say anythin'. You got a
right to have who ya want up there. I'm just wonderin' when this became your weddin' and not our
weddin'."
She looked up at him angrily. "Brian, I've had about all of this I can take. You know full well I didn't
want him at the wedding in the first place, let alone in the wedding party. This isn't just about me.
You know how many other people this is gonna upset? What about Matthew? Is he even gonna
wanna be your best man if Mr. Cooper shows up?"
He hesitated. "Course he will."
"I thought he hated him. And what about your ma and pa, after the way he tried to take you and
Colleen away from them? How they gonna feel? And your little brothers and sisters, when I think of
the kind of example that man is settin' for them it makes me ill."
"This is our day, not theirs," he said. "They're just gonna have to get used to it."
"Brian, don't you see? He doesn't care about us. I know he doesn't. He cares about his business in
San Francisco and making money. He's a selfish man who's done nothin' but let you down your
whole life, and he don't deserve to stand up with you on your weddin' day."
"It's my decision, all right?" he said angrily, pointing his finger at his chest. "I'm makin' this
decision!"
She swallowed hard. "Maybe everybody was right. We ain't ready to get married yet."
"What?" he breathed.
"You do this, and the wedding's off," she whispered.
He stared back at her in shock. "Sarah," he murmured, shaking his head.
Tears welled in her eyes. "I mean it, Brian." She walked out decisively and quickly climbed up into
her buggy.
Brian jogged after her. "Sarah, wait!" he called desperately.
She ignored him and slapped the reins.
to be continued...
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Chapter Eighteen
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"Hold your arms out, sweetheart," Michaela instructed. "Let me measure." Byron was standing on
one of the dining room table chairs wearing a new suit vest and white starched shirt that had
several pins in it. Michaela had her sewing basket on the table, a pattern and a notebook and
pencil. She stretched her tape measure down one of his arms and then wrote down the
measurement. Elizabeth was working on the hem of Katie's flower girl dress at the other end of the
table.
Byron waved his arms like a soaring bird and made a whooshing sound. Sully walked into the room
from the kitchen and chuckled at his antics.
"You a hawk?" he asked teasingly.
"No. Eagle," he replied.
Sully tickled his chest, sending him into fits of giggles. "You're a ticklish eagle then!"
"Sully, stop. I'm trying to do this," Michaela scolded. "Byron, stand still or you're going to stick
yourself."
"Sorry, Ma," Sully said, giving Michaela's cheek a sweet kiss and walking to the sitting room where
he picked up the Gazette.
She eyed him wryly and then measured Byron's leg. "My goodness, young man. We're going to have
to let these trousers down before the wedding. You've grown half an inch!"
He sighed. "Are we almost done? This is boring."
"All right, all right. We're done," she replied. "Assuming your other leg is the same length as this
one."
He looked down. "Yeah, I think so. Don't worry." Michaela helped him off with the vest and shirt
and then he jumped down, grabbing his old shirt off the table.
Suddenly Brian opened the door and silently hung up his hat and jacket.
"Brian," Sully said.
"Brian, you're home!" Katie called.
"Brian, there you are," Michaela said. "Perfect timing. We can put the final touches on your suit
tonight. We were just measuring the boys' ring bearer suits."
"I appreciate what you're doin', Ma, but I ain't gonna be needin' that suit."
She lowered her tape measure. "What are you talking about?"
He swallowed hard. "The wedding's off," he murmured.
"What?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "No, it can't be off. All my plans!"
"Oh, sweetheart. What happened?" Michaela asked.
"Nothin'. We just ain't ready to be married yet, that's all. I'm real sorry about all the work you been
puttin' into the ceremony." He sighed. "I'm gonna head up to bed. I'm real tired."
"Of course. Do you want me to make you some tea?" Michaela replied.
"No, that's all right. Night, everybody."
"Night, son," Sully called softly.
Michaela watched him head upstairs, then sunk into a chair. "What was that about?"
"Oh, I'm sure it's just a little misunderstanding," Elizabeth said. "They'll change their minds."
Sully joined them at the table. "I don't know. He looked awful upset."
"Well, they have to change their minds," Elizabeth said. "I've already ordered their wedding
present!"
"Sully, why don't you go up and talk to him," Michaela said worriedly.
He rested his hand on her shoulder. "Let's let him rest tonight, give him some time. We'll talk to him
when he's ready."
"His light's still on," Michaela said restlessly as she entered the bedroom and shut the door.
"So?" Sully replied. He was leaning over the bed and had Eliza on her back, and was tenderly but
firmly massaging her legs from her thighs down to her little toes. The baby stared back up at him
intensely and cooed and gurgled.
"So, he's still up. Perhaps you should talk to him. Please?"
"It's late, Michaela. Let's leave him be tonight. He needs to sleep on this."
"I suppose." She approached the bed. "Look how much she's enjoying that. She looks so relaxed
and peaceful."
He ran his hand slowly down the baby's back, gently pushing on her tiny muscles. "Yeah, I think it
feels real good to her. She's been starin' at me this whole time."
"I'm not surprised. Your massages always feel good to her ma," she whispered lovingly.
"Why don't ya lie down, take off your nightgown," he suggested softly. "I'll rub your back next."
She shyly sat down and slipped out of her bathrobe as he picked up the baby, kissed her cheek a
few times and placed her in her crib for the night. He watched as she unbuttoned her nightgown
and slipped it over her head.
"Here, get on your belly," he instructed as he picked up the bottle of lavender oil and rubbed some
of it onto his palms. Then he pressed his hands to Michaela's shoulders and squeezed and kneaded
them deeply.
"Mmm, that's good," she murmured, closing her eyes.
"You all right lyin' on your stomach?" he asked. "Your breasts hurt?"
"No, I'm fine," she said, smiling up at him softly. He had always been so in tune with her every
need, and his doting attention was especially helpful now that they had a new baby in the house.
No matter how hectic things got with caring for Eliza, he always made time to take care of Michaela
and make sure she was comfortable.
"I wouldn't worry too much," he remarked. "Sometimes a man just needs a little time by himself to
think things out when it comes to settlin' down with the woman he loves."
"Is that what you did before we were married?" she asked.
"Sure. I took a lotta time to myself before I married ya."
"Oh. I didn't realize you had such doubts," she replied, opening her eyes and glancing at him.
He smiled and leaned down to kiss her shoulder. "Course not. But it was good for me to do some
thinkin', prepare myself for bein' a good husband, buildin' a good marriage with ya." He climbed
onto the bed and straddled her waist, massaging her all the deeper.
"Mm, that feels good," she murmured.
"Not too hard, is it?" he replied.
"No, just perfect." She sighed blissfully. "Then you think this'll pass? They'll still get married?"
He ran his hands down her spine and working his fingers into her lower back muscles. "There was a
time when hearin' the weddin' was off woulda been the best news for you."
"I know I wasn't too fond of the idea of them getting married at first," Michaela admitted. "But I've
come to realize they've grown into a very mature young couple. They put off their entire wedding
because I was on bed rest. And they went to marriage counseling with the Reverend. It sounds like
they were doing everything possible to succeed at this and I've been very impressed." She sighed
softly. "He loves her, Sully. They're meant to be together."
He leaned down and moved her hair off her neck to kiss her. "Yeah, I know. And if it's meant to be,
sooner or later they'll end up together. Just like you and me." He kissed one shoulder, then the
other. Then he slid his hand down her back to caress her backside.
She shifted a little uncomfortably and glanced up at him. "Sully?"
He edged down across her and gave her lips a few wet kisses. "Shh, just relax."
She swallowed hard as he planted soft kisses on the back of her neck. A massage in the past surely
would have led to making love, and she worried that was what was happening now. Sully never had
been very good at keeping things from escalating once he started kissing and touching her like this.
"Sully, I know, it's just I think we should give this some more time," she protested softly. "We
should wait awhile before we try again."
He ran his fingers down her arm and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Yeah, I know. We'll
give it time."
She sighed with relief. "Thank you," she whispered.
He rested his weight across her back and gave her ear some gentle, restrained kisses. "Ya know,
sometimes I just like feelin' your skin, feelin' ya pressed up to me. Every inch of ya is so soft."
"You're not so soft," she whispered back wryly. "All I can feel is all that chest hair against my back."
"You like my chest hair," he said suggestively.
"Yes, I do," she admitted with a shy giggle.
He chuckled softly and gave her ear a soft, playful nip with his lips, then shifted over to lie beside
her. "Michaela, don't worry about Brian," he said reassuringly, caressing her cheek. "They'll work it
out."
"I hope so," she replied. "Or we're going to have one very heartbroken young man on our hands."
"What was your quarrel about?" Elizabeth demanded as the family gathered at the breakfast table.
Brian poured himself a cup of coffee. "Never said we had a quarrel."
"Was it about your house? She doesn't like it?" Elizabeth probed.
"No," Brian replied. "She likes it just fine."
"Good, she'd better. You did a wonderful job on it."
"Mother, leave him be," Michaela scolded gently as she dished up some oatmeal into bowls and
handed them to the children.
"Josef and I used to quarrel like cats and dogs. Especially about the wedding," Elizabeth went on.
"We were both Irish. It's to be expected. It didn't mean we weren't meant to be married."
"I ain't Irish," Brian murmured.
"Am I Irish, Gran'ma?" Byron spoke up.
"Yes, of course," Elizabeth said. "You're half Irish and half English. Quite a combination."
"Oh," he replied pensively. "What about American?"
"You're that, too, sweetheart," Michaela said, putting a bowl of oatmeal in front of him.
"Where's Irish? I mean Ireland?" Red Eagle spoke up, stirring his oatmeal. "I wanna go there
someday."
"Ireland is next to England," Michaela explained.
"It is about the wedding!" Elizabeth exclaimed suddenly. "She doesn't like my plans! I knew it! I
knew she was just pretending to like everything in front of me when really she's hated it all along."
"Huh?" Brian replied blankly.
"Brian, are you never getting married ever?" Katie spoke up curiously. "I really wanted to be the
flower girl. What about the dress Mama made for me?"
"Sorry, Kate," Brian whispered. "I'm sorry we had to disappoint everybody."
"Sweetheart, don't worry about us," Michaela said. "Just sort this all out and don't worry about
anything else."
"Nothin' to sort out, Ma," he replied. "It's over." He abruptly stood up and grabbed his jacket off the
coat rack, heading outside.
"Mother, you didn't have to badger him like that," Michaela scolded.
"Badger him! I did no such thing!"
"Ya did ask him a lot of questions," Sully admitted, taking a sip of coffee.
"Well, if I didn't no one would," she protested. "I can't believe you two! You're just going to stand
by and let this happen!"
Michaela walked to the door and took down her shawl.
"Michaela," Sully called in caution.
"I'll be right back," she said, opening the door and shutting it behind her.
Brian was untying Taffy from the hitching post and securing the rope to her saddle.
"Brian," Michaela called.
He shook his head. "Ma, I'm sorry, I just…I can't talk about this right now." He had to work as hard
as he could to keep a straight face in front of her and not let on how upset he was.
"I know. That's all right. You don't have to talk about it," she replied. "I just wanted you to know
Sully and I are here for you. We'll support you in whatever you decide to do."
He nodded appreciatively.
She gave his arm a gentle pat. "Have a good day at the Gazette."
He mounted his horse and she turned and headed back up the stairs.
"Ma, wait," he called.
She turned back around.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"Brian, just…don't let something you've worked so hard to build slip away so easily."
"Wasn't my decision," he murmured, swallowing hard. "It was hers." He turned Taffy toward the
road and galloped off.
Samantha arranged a bundle of baby's breath in a vase on the vanity and then laid a folded piece of
paper against the vase.
"Samantha, are you in here?" Myra called, opening the door. "Sam?"
Samantha spun around guiltily, putting her hands behind her back.
"There you are. Ready for lunch?" She eyed the flowers. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Samantha whispered.
Myra walked over to her, eyeing the flowers and picking up the paper. She unfolded it to reveal her
daughter's distinct handwriting
Her face fell. "'Will you marry me? Love, Horace," she read aloud. She lowered the note. "Did you
write this, sweetheart?"
Samantha bowed her head, swallowing hard.
"Oh, Sam," Myra murmured. "So it was you all this time." She sighed. "You got the cameo, too?
And the bath? How did you afford all that?"
She shrugged. "Katie and her brothers helped me do chores around town. We saved up."
"So that's what that was all about!" She rubbed her back. "Sam, I thought you liked John. He's
going to be your new step-father."
She shrugged. "I like him. I just … I wish you could marry Papa instead."
Myra swallowed hard and drew her into a loving hug.
"I'm sorry, Mama," Samantha said tearfully.
"Oh, Sam. I should be the one sayin' sorry," she murmured. "I'm afraid your ma hasn't done a very
good job copin' with everything that's happened between your pa and me. And sometimes I forget
you're goin' through this, too." She hugged her tighter. "Come on, sit down. We'll have a talk."
Myra rang the bell outside the clinic, holding Samantha's hand.
"Wait here, Samantha? All right?" Myra said, guiding her to the bench.
"Yes, Mama," she whispered.
Myra opened the door and shut it behind her. Michaela looked up from some medical charts on her
desk and put down her pen.
"Good afternoon, Myra. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm all right. This a good time to talk?"
"Certainly. Is something wrong?"
"Well, not exactly." She approached her desk and handed Michaela the cameo. "A secret admirer
gave me this the other week."
"Secret admirer? What do you mean?"
"And every day I've found flowers or chocolates by my bed. Somebody even paid for me to have a
bath at Jake's." She chuckled softly. "Funny thing is, first I thought it was Hank. I thought he still
wasn't over us. When he swore he had nothin' to do with it, then I thought it had to be Horace. But
then he said it wasn't him either." She smiled. "Dr. Mike, the children got that for me. And the
flowers and everything else. Katie and Byron, Red Eagle. And Samantha."
Michaela glanced at the cameo again. "The children got this for you? How?" Her mouth dropped
open. "Their chores. That's what all those chores they've been doing are for."
"I'm afraid so."
"I don't believe it," she murmured. "But why?"
"I just had a big talk with Samantha. Seems, well, they wanted Horace and me to get back
together. Get married again."
She swallowed hard. "Oh."
"They thought if the two of us got married, we'd move back to Colorado Springs."
"Oh, Myra. I had no idea that's what they were doing." She handed her back the cameo. "How's
Samantha? Is she all right?"
"She's fine. We had a long talk. I'll talk to the rest of the children, too, if you want, Dr. Mike. After
all, they did all this for me and Horace."
She sighed and rested her hands in her lap. "No, that's all right. I'll talk to them."
"They sure are sweet," she murmured. "I feel just awful about this."
"No, don't," she said, rising to her feet.
"I thought gettin' a divorce would solve everything," Myra said, shaking her head. "I thought, just as
soon as we signed those papers it would all be over with. Now it seems like this is going to go on
forever."
Michaela stepped toward her and gently hugged her. "I know it's difficult at first, but things are
going to improve."
"Oh, Dr. Mike. I can't thank you and your family enough for supporting us through this. A lot of folks
we used to know, well, they don't want to have much to do with us anymore. Lot of folks don't
want to have anything to do with somebody who's been divorced. This whole thing has been real
hard on Samantha."
"I know. But I think she's doing remarkably well. She's such a wonderful little girl. I must admit I
have to agree with the children. I wish you could stay in Colorado Springs, too."
"Oh, sometimes I do, too," Myra murmured, hugging her a little tighter.
Michaela pulled the wagon up to the porch and climbed down. She lifted the baby out of her basket
and walked up the porch stairs, opening the door.
The children were gathered at the table with Elizabeth, diligently working on their homework.
"Hey, Mama," Byron called.
"How was school?" she asked.
"Good," he replied.
"Good," Katie echoed.
"Mother, could you take the baby?" Michaela asked, approaching her.
"Certainly. Come here, little sweetheart," Elizabeth said as Michaela laid the baby in her arms.
"Children? Let's sit outside on the porch. I need to talk to you," Michaela said.
"Are we in trouble? Not again," Byron said as they put aside their schoolwork and got up.
She smiled softly and guided them all outside. "No. No, not at all."
"Oh, good."
Michaela took a seat on the porch and gathered the children close. "Samantha's mother came to see
me today. She told me about the cameo and the flowers and everything else you've been doing."
"Oh, no! You told our secret!" Byron cried, glaring at his brother and sister.
"No I didn't!" Red Eagle exclaimed.
"Me neither!" Katie added.
"Sweethearts, Myra asked Horace about the gifts and it was then she realized they weren't from
him. Then she caught Samantha putting a note beside her bed."
"Oh," Byron murmured. "Whoops."
"So this is what you've been doing all these weeks," Michaela said, putting her arm around them.
"Trying to get Horace and Myra back together."
Katie's eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry, Mama. We just wanted to help Samantha."
"Don't be sorry. I think it's very kind of you to want to help like that."
"We thought maybe if her ma and pa fall in love again, Samantha could stay here," Byron explained,
clutching Michaela's arm.
"Yeah, they could get married again," Red Eagle said. "And then Samantha wouldn't be so sad."
"Oh, my darlings," Michaela murmured, rubbing Red Eagle's back.
"But I guess we just didn't do enough," Byron added.
"Sweetheart, I know it's difficult to understand, but Samantha's mother and father are probably not
going to get married again. Their divorce was a long time ago and they've both moved on with their
lives."
"But it's not fair, Mama," Katie protested. "Samantha never gets to be with her pa. She has to get
on a train two days just to see him."
"I know. I know that seems terribly unfair. Sometimes things like that just can't be avoided when a
mother and father don't live together anymore. But Samantha's parents have tried very hard to give
her as normal and happy a life as possible under the circumstances."
"Just wish we coulda fixed it," Byron whispered, resting his head against Michaela's shoulder.
"I know. But their problems are not your fault. You're not responsible for fixing them. And neither is
Samantha. Only Horace and Myra can do that." She rubbed Katie's back. "Do you know the one
thing that doesn't change when a couple gets divorced?"
"What?" Katie whispered, gently swiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek.
"How much they love their children. Samantha's parents love her very much. Even though they don't
live together, they still love her as much as a mother and father could possibly love their child.
Nothing could ever change that." She kissed Byron's head. "And nothing could ever change how
much I love you either. I'm so proud of you for how hard you've been working just to help a friend.
I only wished you had come to me first."
Byron giggled softly. "I guess I'm glad we don't have to wash anymore windows."
Katie grinned. "Yeah. My arms hurt."
"Mine, too," Red Eagle added.
Michaela smiled. "I bet they do. Samantha just needs friends right now. Just be her friend, all right?
"
The children hugged her tightly and Michaela hugged back, rocking them lovingly.
"Can't believe that's what they were doin'," Sully remarked as he and Michaela snuggled up on the
settee in front of the sitting room fire. Eliza was tucked up warmly against Michaela's belly, nursing
vigorously at her breast.
"I know, neither can I." She sighed and stroked the baby's head. "Now I really feel guilty about
punishing them."
"Still don't excuse the way they disappeared like that not tellin' us where they were all that time."
"Their hearts were in the right place at least."
"Punishment's over end of the week. They'll survive it."
"I just can't imagine how they got the idea for all of that. Wouldn't they rather be playing baseball
or checkers or chess instead of all those chores they were doing?"
"Cause they're like their ma. Just want folks to be happy. They thought Myra and Horace gettin'
back together would make Samantha and everybody happy."
"I suppose. It is unfortunate what happened between the two of them. Remember how in love they
were?"
He kissed her forehead. "I think they still love each other. Bein' married just didn't work out.
Sometimes no matter how much ya might care for somebody, gettin' married is just somethin' that
ain't the best idea. Gotta think about more than just bein' in love. A marriage is about more than
that."
"I'm glad you didn't feel that way about me," she replied. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't
want to get married."
"I didn't for awhile, remember? Just wasn't ready yet. I needed some time. Bein' in love and wantin'
to get married are two different things."
She looked up at him teasingly. "So when did you first think you wanted to marry me?"
"I don't know. Guess I really started to think about it once we came back from Boston after your ma
took sick. Just wasn't sure folks as different as you and me could make it work."
"I'd say we managed to make it work quite nicely, wouldn't you?"
He glanced at the baby and caressed Michaela's cheek. "I'd say so, Mrs. Sully."
She smiled and kissed him, and then he drew a quilt around them and held her all the closer as
they gazed at the flames.
Loren looked through Sarah's egg basket and counted them up. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen," he said.
He looked at Sarah impatiently. "Why don't you just make it an even twelve and be easy on me?"
She blinked. "But they didn't lay twelve, Mr. Bray. They laid thirteen."
"Hm, so they did," he muttered, opening his cash box just as his telephone rang.
"Oh, look. Somebody's ringing you," Sarah said excitedly.
"Don't worry. Probably not for me anyway," Loren said, walking to his phone impatiently. He picked
up the receiver. "Bray's Mercantile. Loren Bray speaking," he said dryly. He hung up a moment later.
"See, what'd I tell you? Operators must have the lines mixed up. They keep ringin' me when they
mean to ring somebody else."
Sarah chuckled quietly to herself just as Brian walked into the store carrying an empty crate and a
list.
"Ma sent me to pick up the groceries, Mr. Bray," he said. He stopped when he saw Sarah.
"Oh. Hey, Sarah," Brian said awkwardly.
She swallowed hard. "Hey," she whispered.
Loren eyed the couple worriedly as he counted out Sarah's coins. "Here ya go."
"Thank you, Mr. Bray," she whispered. "Bye, Brian."
"Bye," he murmured, staring at her as she walked quietly out of the store and climbed up into her
buggy.
"You're a fool, boy," Loren said.
"Who me?" Brian asked blankly.
"Yeah, you. You're just gonna let a nice girl like that slip through your fingers?" he demanded.
Brian looked at him impatiently. "Here's my ma's list."
"You keep this up and you're still gonna be livin' with your ma when you're my age," he replied.
"No I won't," Brian said defensively.
"We'll see," he replied, grabbing the list and heading off to his shelves.
Teresa held up her attendance roster and a pencil as she stood behind her desk. "Jed Smith?"
"Here."
"Katie Sully?"
"Here," Katie replied.
Red Eagle and Byron shared mischievous glances.
"Byron Sully?" Teresa said.
"Present," Byron replied playfully. The rest of the children giggled and Teresa lowered her folder and
gazed at him for a moment. But she seemed to decide against reprimanding him and simply tapped
her ruler gently on her desk. "Class, please. Danny Walters?" she finally said.
"Here," he replied.
She closed her attendance book. "Very good. Now, as you know we start our new term today. And
with a new term comes new seats and new partners."
Red Eagle and Byron looked at each other anxiously.
"New partners?" Red Eagle whispered.
Teresa immediately began rearranging everyone, moving some students back and others forward.
Katie looked thrilled with her new partner, Allison Garrison, one of her best friends.
"Byron, your new partner is Oliver. Please move up one row," Teresa instructed.
"But," the little boy murmured.
Teresa tapped the desk. "Byron, sit here."
Byron knew there was no use arguing with the teacher. She was very firm and rarely changed her
mind about anything. He gave Red Eagle a helpless look and gathered his slate and books, trudging
up to the next row and collapsing on the bench.
"Hey! I'm Oliver!" the eager little second-grader said, looking up at Byron in awe. He was at least
three inches shorter than Byron, a horrible baseball player on Mr. Lodge's team who usually sat on
the bench most of the time, and he was clearly thrilled to have an older boy as his partner.
"I know," Byron murmured.
"I'm glad we're partners. You're a real good hurler," Oliver said enthusiastically. "Could you teach
me sometime? I'm left-handed, you know. Just like you. Could you teach me?"
Byron sighed. "I guess." He wasn't going to cry in school in front of all the children. Instead he
folded his arms on his desk and rested his chin on them, barely paying attention the rest of the day.
Michaela was waiting for the children outside school when they came out. Her smile faded when
Byron bolted to her, threw his arms around her waist and began sobbing, letting go all of the tears
he had been bottling up all day.
"What on earth? What happened?" she asked smoothing his hair.
"Mama, Miss Teresa, she made me sit with the little kids," he explained.
"He has to sit with Oliver," Red Eagle explained sadly. Katie nodded.
"He's only six," Byron cried. "He can't even play baseball."
Michaela took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his cheeks. "All right, shh, don't cry," she
soothed. "I'll talk to your teacher right now. Wait here."
She ascended the steps where Teresa was erasing the blackboards.
"Mrs. Slicker, my son is outside very upset," she began impatiently. "He says you moved his seat?"
Teresa turned around calmly, holding the eraser. "All the children received new seat assignments
today, yes. I always give new seats at the beginning of the term."
"Well, why can't he sit with Red Eagle?" she demanded, stepping closer.
"Because they are working on different lessons now," she replied simply.
"No, I want them to sit together," she retorted. "I want you to move him back to his old seat."
Now Teresa was getting angry. She stepped closer to her. "Dr. Quinn, you gave me permission to
hold him back. It will be much more beneficial to him to sit with the younger students as he will be
doing lessons with them now. You don't agree?" She folded her hands. "Give him time to get used
to it. I think he will like his new partner. I thought very carefully about it. Good day." She spun
around and continued wiping down the boards.
Michaela stared at her lividly, and then turned around, walking briskly out of the classroom and
shutting the door firmly behind her.
Michaela paced in the barn furiously. "I can't believe that woman. I trusted her that she was going
to handle this delicately. Then the first thing she does is separate him from Red Eagle?"
"We probably shoulda prepared him that was gonna happen," Sully murmured as he unsaddled his
horse.
"Byron works so well with Red Eagle. They both work well together. I never thought holding him
back meant they couldn't sit together anymore. Byron doesn't even get along with Oliver. They're
nearly two years apart in age."
"Aint such a bad thing Byron learns how to work with a different child. He's always had trouble
makin' new friends."
"I didn't realize this was supposed to be a lesson in making friends. I thought our main concern was
his happiness at school. And right now he's miserable again."
"We knew there was gonna be drawbacks to holdin' him back," Sully said as he hoisted the saddle
off and put it over the side of the stall. "There were bad things about lettin' him go on to the next
grade, too, Michaela."
"I didn't know he was going to come home to me crying his eyes out," she replied. "I should have
known she wasn't going to go out of her way to make this any easier on him. I think we should tell
Teresa we changed our minds. She should promote him to the next grade and we'll forget this ever
happened."
Sully came to her and clutched her shoulders. "Michaela, I know this is hard. But it's only his first
day. First days are always tough. I still think we should stick this out."
"I can't stick this out for very long," she protested. "Not when he's this upset."
"Let's at least give it a week," he suggested. "Things'll get better for him, you'll see."
"One week, Sully. If things don't improve, I'm telling Teresa we're not going to do this anymore."
"Come on, let's go inside. I'm starvin' and I can smell that supper cookin' from here."
She sighed and put her arm around him and they headed to the house.
Sully carried in a bucket of milk into the kitchen and placed it on the table. Then he walked to
Michaela and lifted the baby out of her sling.
"Mornin', beautiful," he whispered, kissing her tiny cheek.
"She's gaining weight," Michaela remarked with a proud smile as she added some strips of bacon to
a warm pan.
"Sure is. She's a real good grower."
Michaela listened to Brian chop wood outside. She left the stove for a moment to look out the
window. "Sully, he hasn't seen her in five days. All he does is eat, sleep and work at the Gazette."
"Yeah, I know," he replied, joining her at the window.
"Sully, he's positively heartsick."
"We can't force 'em to talk, Michaela. They'll work this out in their own time."
"I'm going to go see the Reverend this morning. Find out what he thinks." She returned to the stove
to check on the bacon.
"Michaela, don't meddle," he said in caution.
"Meddling? This isn't meddling. I'm just talking to the Reverend. That's allowed."
He glanced outside again. Brian truly was very upset about everything, he had to admit. "Guess it
can't hurt to at least see what he has to say," he replied. He raised the baby above his head and
then brought her down to kiss her forehead. "You ain't ever gettin' married, ya understand, Eliza
girl? All this is just too hard on your ma and pa."
Michaela chuckled and put her arm around him, grasping the baby's bare foot and kissing her toes.
"Yes, Sarah told me," the Reverend said as he laid some Bibles on the benches.
"I just can't believe it. I don't know what to do," Michaela said as she stood in the aisle and rubbed
the baby's back restlessly.
"Well, Dr. Mike, I know this is hard to hear but there really isn't much you can do. Sometimes when
parents get involved in a couple's disagreements they can end up making it worse."
"But they called the whole wedding off," she protested.
"Believe it or not lots of couples think about callin' the weddin' off. Getting married's a big step and
it's normal to feel uncertain sometimes."
"Not normal for this couple. They're so in love."
He put down another Bible and approached her, swinging his cane along the floor. "That I know for
sure. And that's why I'm not too worried. I think they just need a little time. Give them some time. I
don't think this wedding is off for good by any means."
"You're sure?" she whispered.
He smiled. "I been marryin' couples for twenty years. I'm sure."
Sully, Kirk, William and the rest of the workers waited patiently on the station steps as a railroad
building inspector surveyed their work. He was holding a clipboard and making lots of checkmarks
as Horace followed him.
Sully had no doubt the building would pass inspection. He knew they had done a fine job on it. But
there was something about being in the presence of a railroad man that made him feel very uneasy.
The inspector climbed a ladder to examine the roof and then finally climbed back down and signed
several of the papers.
"Meets regulations. Looks good, Mr. Bing. You're authorized to pay each worker a bonus."
"Bonus?" Horace replied. "Supervisors didn't mention that."
"All railroad workers get a bonus if the work is up to standard the first time. Twenty-five percent."
"Well, yes, sir. I will. They sure deserve it."
The inspector tore off the bottom half of the paper and handed it to him. "Have a good day, Mr.
Bing."
"Goodbye, sir," he replied. Horace walked over to Sully and the workers and shook Sully's hand.
"Passed inspection. Thank you, Sully."
Sully nodded and gathered his toolbox and lunch satchel.
"I'll have your bank drafts in the morning," Horace told them. "Railroad's gonna pay ya a twenty-five
percent bonus."
Kirk whistled. "Twenty-five percent? Never knew the railroad to be that kind-hearted."
"Neither did I," Horace said quietly.
"Thanks for the job, Mr. Bing," Kirk said.
"Let's head over to the saloon. We deserve a drink," one of the workers said. "Ya comin', Sully?"
"No thanks," he said.
"William?" Kirk asked. "You're comin', ain't ya?"
"No, you boys go on," he said.
"Your loss," he replied as they headed down the steps.
"Honey!" Faye called as she walked toward him with her egg basket and Danielle on her hip.
"Honey, where ya goin'?"
"Uh, no place. No place, honey," he replied, clearing his throat. "Uh, so Mr. Bray buy your eggs?"
The other workers laughed at him and went on ahead to the saloon.
"Yes. Came to thirty cents."
He took the baby from her. "Thought you were gonna buy some new fabric with the egg money."
"I was. But I don't feel like it now."
He glanced at her in confusion. "Don't feel like it? Honey, you been goin' on for days about how
badly you need that fabric for those curtains. Now ya don't feel like it?"
"Have I? Well, I changed my mind. I wanna go home. Could you take me home?"
He glanced toward the saloon.
"Oh. Is everybody celebratin' over there?" she asked. "You can go if you want, sweetheart. I know
how hard you worked."
He put his arm around her. "No. No, I'll take ya home. I'd rather be with you."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," he replied, giving her a kiss. "Let's go home."
"There goes one young couple who's got everything going for them," William remarked quietly as he
packed up his tools.
Sully glanced at Kirk and Faye and then headed over to his wagon.
William followed him. "Sully, I'm grateful for this job. I owe it to you."
"Ya can thank Horace for the job. Wasn't me."
"No, but if you had told me you didn't want me here, I would have stepped down. You let me stay.
Thank you."
"You're welcome," Sully said quietly.
He took out his handkerchief and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll be going back to St. Louis with
Miss Myra end of the week."
Sully wasn't sure how to respond. He knew William desperately wanted to be a part of his life, but
he couldn't help feeling relieved that he would be heading home soon. "Kids are gonna miss ya," he
murmured. "You should write 'em."
He swallowed hard. "Yes. I will. All the time." He looked into his eyes pointedly. "Took me twentyfive years, but I found you. If nothing more ever comes of it, you should know I can rest easy
knowing that you're all right, that you're living a happy life."
Sully quietly put his tools in the back of the wagon. He didn't know how to respond to that either.
He was never particularly pleased to have his father in his life, yet he knew deep down how much
William loved him and cared for him. But he couldn't find it in himself to return those feelings even
if he wanted to.
"Have a safe trip," Sully finally murmured as he climbed into his wagon and slapped the reins,
leaving William standing there somberly.
Michaela took a sip of coffee and rested her hands on the table dejectedly. The baby was asleep in
the sling around her shoulders after a good feeding.
"Afternoon, Michaela," William called as he walked into the café.
She looked up solemnly. "Good afternoon."
"May I join you?" he asked.
She nodded.
"How are the children? Still being punished?"
"Yes, they're at home. Mother's put them to work polishing the silverware."
He smiled softly. "That's what my mother had me do when I misbehaved." He paused. "Is
something the matter? You look very blue."
"Oh, William. I'm afraid Brian and Sarah have called off their wedding."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. Brian doesn't want to discuss it. They had some kind of argument earlier this week
and they just called it off." She took another sip of coffee.
"Oh, no. That's terrible. I'm sorry to hear that."
"The Reverend said all couples go through that and we should just give them time."
"Of course. Yes, just give them some time."
"It's not just them. Byron hates school ever since we held him back. His teacher won't let him sit
with Red Eagle."
"Oh, dear," he said. "Well, you should give him time to adjust."
She looked up at him with a soft smile. "That's what Sully said, too." She sighed and tried to
compose himself. "I'm sorry, William. My manners. How have you been doing?"
"Well, just fine. I wanted to let you know, I…Miss Myra's going to be leaving at the end of the week.
And I'm afraid I must go with her."
"Oh, William, I wish you could stay longer," she murmured. "The children are only just getting to
know you."
"I think we both know this is for the best," he replied.
"What happens now? Will you visit again? Can we visit you?"
"Yes, I'd love to visit," he replied. "But…I just don't think it's a good idea I stay here any longer.
Sully's very angry with me and I need to respect that."
"I'm sorry at the way this turned out," Michaela said, reaching across the table and taking his hand.
"I wish it had been different."
"Well, I wish I hadn't made the mistakes I did when I was a young man. I lost my son for good the
moment I walked out on my family."
She squeezed his hand tearfully. "But you haven't lost your grandchildren. We should make the
most of the rest of your visit. The children's punishment is over tomorrow. Why don't we all go
down to the creek and have a nice picnic lunch together?"
"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I'd like that."
"You can bring your … what was it called?"
"My cricket bat?"
She smiled. "Yes. Your cricket bat."
"Well, I can't wait," he replied.
"I wish you would reconsider," Michaela said as she rinsed a plate under the pump. "Sully, it's just a
picnic."
"I don't know why ya gotta keep pushin' this," he said tightly as he carried a stack of plates to the
counter. Byron followed behind him with his plate and cup and put them on the counter.
"I'm not pushing," she protested. She passed Byron back his glass. "Finish your milk, sweetheart."
Byron drank down the last gulp of milk in his glass and then handed it to her.
"Michaela, just take the kids. But I told you I ain't goin'," Sully said. He grabbed a clean plate from
her and quickly dried it off with a towel. She eyed him with disappointment and then turned her
attention back to the dishes.
He glanced at her impatiently. "Ya gonna sulk the rest of the night?" he muttered.
"I don't sulk," she retorted. "That's you."
Katie slowly walked into the room, carrying her plate. She put it on the table and silently watched
her parents quarrel.
"I think you should be glad I let the kids see him at all," he said tightly.
"Yes, how generous of you to allow them to see their own grandfather," she replied derisively.
He slammed the towel on the counter. "Michaela, I ain't gonna do this all night. I ain't goin' and
there's nothin' more to it."
"Don't get a divorce," Katie choked out.
Michaela turned to face her, shocked. "What?"
"Please don't get a divorce," she replied, bursting into tears. "I don't wanna move far away. I don't
wanna never see Papa again."
to be continued...
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"Kates, we ain't gettin' a divorce," Sully spoke up.
"Oh, Katie," Michaela murmured, quickly drying her hands on a towel and coming to the little girl's
side. She wrapped her arms around her and rocked her. "Shh, don't cry. Hush."
"You fight all the time," Katie whimpered, hugging Michaela's waist. "Please don't fight anymore."
"Yeah, you always fight," Byron whispered.
"Yeah," Red Eagle echoed.
"Come here. Sit down," Michaela said, pulling out a chair and drawing Katie into her lap. She
stroked her hair and glanced at Sully. "Just because Papa and I have a disagreement about
something doesn't mean we don't want to be married anymore. Some days being married is easy.
And some days it's a little harder. It's just like school. Some lessons are more difficult than others.
But we always try and do our best. Do you understand?"
Katie thought a moment. "Yeah. I think so."
Sully joined them and rubbed her back. "I'm sorry, Kates."
"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry we fought," Michaela said, kissing her head. "We'll try not to do that
anymore."
"You promise?" she replied.
Sully squatted down and smoothed away her tears. "Ya know, before you were born, when I
married your ma, I made a promise to her and everybody else I'd love her no matter what. That I
was gonna be the best husband I could the rest of my days. I'm keepin' my promise." He grasped
Michaela's hand and gave it a gentle kiss.
Michaela smiled at him appreciatively. Then she reached out and rubbed Byron's arm. "Divorce just
isn't something your papa and I would ever consider. That doesn't mean I fault other couples for
choosing to get divorced. What happened to Samantha's mother and father has been difficult on
everyone, but divorce was something they decided was the best thing to do after a lot of careful
thought. For some people that's what's right for them. But we've worked hard to build this family,
and no matter what we'll always love each other and keep our family together."
"You worked extra hard so Eliza could be part of the family, right, Mama?" Byron spoke up.
She smiled. "Yes, I did." She kissed Katie's head. "Each one of you is so precious to your pa and
me. You're such a part of our hearts. Papa and I are in this for good."
Katie smiled softly, reassured.
"For good," Sully echoed resolutely.
Michaela silently brushed her hair in front of the vanity as Sully unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on
the back of a chair. Then he opened a drawer and looked inside.
"Michaela, ya gonna do some laundry tomorrow?" he asked.
"I just did laundry two days ago," she replied.
"Oh. I can't find any shirts," he said, pushing aside a few things in the drawer.
"Oh," she replied, putting her brush on the vanity and getting up. "Well, I'll do some shirts for you
then in the morning." She walked to the crib and rubbed Eliza's belly.
He eyed her a moment, clearing his throat. "No, that's all right. I'll wear this one again."
"No, I don't mind. Come to think of it I don't think I washed any of your shirts when I last did it."
She smoothed the baby's hair and then headed to the bed.
"All right. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied softly. She drew down the covers and got into bed.
He got in bed beside her, leaned over her and gave her lips the gentlest of kisses. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she said hoarsely. She reached for the lamp and turned it down and then cuddled up
on her side.
Sully shifted over to her and touched her back, then drew her into his arms and held her to his
chest for a long moment. "Michaela?" he whispered.
"Hm?" she replied.
"You asleep? I'm sorry Katie got so upset. I'm sorry we fought in front of her."
She turned to face him. "Oh, Sully. I'm sorry, too," she said. "If you don't want to go you don't have
to and I shouldn't have pressed you about it so. I promised you I would be patient, and I wasn't
tonight."
"Michaela, I got my reasons why I don't wanna get to know him. And you know what those are. But
it's more important to me the kids are happy, that they see that you and me support each other and
we're a family that works together no matter what we have to face."
"What are you saying?"
"I'll go on that picnic tomorrow. It's a family picnic, and we're all a family."
"Oh, Sully. Thank you." She clutched his shoulder and kissed him.
"Hey, I meant what I told the kids, you know that don't ya? I'm keepin' my promise I made to ya on
our weddin' day."
"I made you a promise, too, you know," she replied. "And I'm keeping it."
"Even if we're miserable, can't stand each other anymore?" he asked wryly. "Even if ya don't wanna
do my laundry anymore?"
"Even then," she said with a soft chuckle. "Oh, Sully. You bring me so much happiness every day. I
could never be miserable with you. I'm only miserable without you."
"That's good, 'cause I'm miserable without ya, too," he replied lovingly.
"Here's your bank draft, Sully," Horace said as he handed a slip of paper across the counter.
Sully looked at the note, confused. "Thought the railroad was payin' twenty-five percent. You sure
this is right, Horace?"
He handed him another envelope. "They're payin' your bonus in stock. Here ya go."
Sully opened the envelope and pulled out a few Union Pacific Railway stock certificates. They were
already made out in his name and had the date and the signature of a man named Jay Gould.
"Stock?" Sully murmured. He handed the envelope back. "I'd just as soon have it in cash."
"Sorry, Sully. The railroad said this is how I have to pay you."
Sully narrowed his brow. "They never said anything about stock. If this is how they're gonna pay
me I don't want it. I'd rather tear 'em up."
"Afraid tearin' 'em up don't change the fact that you're the owner. You'll have to sell 'em back to the
railroad if you don't want to keep 'em. Or sell to somebody else." He picked up a few letters and
sorted through them. "Now might be a good time to invest anyway, Sully. Mr. Gould just merged the
Denver Pacific and a couple other railroads under the Union Pacific. Railroad's doin' real good right
now."
"Men like him are doin' good," he murmured.
"Sorry I can't pay ya the way ya want," Horace said.
"That's all right. Wasn't your fault. Thanks, Horace." He walked down the street and headed to the
clinic. Michaela was just coming out of the clinic with a picnic basket, the baby over her shoulder.
"I got two pies from Grace's. The way the children eat I think we'll need more than one," she said
with a smile. "I'll just get William and we'll pick up the children and head out to the creek."
He nodded silently, still clutching the stocks and bank note.
She paused. "Sully, what's wrong?"
He handed her the stocks.
"What's this?" she asked. "Union Pacific Railroad?"
"It's my bonus."
"They paid you in stock? I didn't know they were going to do that."
"I didn't know either."
"Oh, well, we've never invested in stock before," she said. "I don't even know how it all works. Does
this mean we own a portion of the railroad?"
"That's what it means."
"What are we going to do with them?"
"We ain't keepin' 'em, that's for sure."
She handed him back the stocks. "Can we sell them?"
"I hope so. Guess I'll have to talk to Preston."
"Let's not worry about it right now," she said, putting her arm around him reassuringly. "Let's just
enjoy our picnic."
He kissed her head and they walked to the wagon.
"Here you are, William," Michaela said as she passed him a second piece of pie.
"Thank you, Michaela," he replied. Byron climbed into his lap on the picnic blanket and took a sip of
lemonade.
"Do you like it?" Michaela asked.
"It's wonderful. You're a talented baker," William said.
She smiled wryly. "It's not mine. It's Grace's."
"It's never Mama's pie, silly," Byron remarked. "She can't cook."
"Byron, I can cook," Michaela protested. "I'm just not very good at pies."
He raised his eyebrows and ate another bite. "What? Papa said."
"Yeah, you did say that, Pa," Red Eagle added. "That Mama can't cook."
"Hey, no I didn't," Sully immediately spoke up. "I just said you're…"
"I'm what?" Michaela demanded, eyeing him critically.
"Better at some things than others," he replied carefully, leaning forward and giving her a reassuring
kiss.
"She must be cooking something you like. You're getting taller by the minute," William said as he
patted Byron's back. "That reminds me. When I was a boy I had a sheepdog. He loved tarts and
scones and pies. He would swipe them right off the table with his paw and I'd hear my mother
screaming."
Byron giggled. "Was he a smart dog?"
"Oh, yes. He knew lots of tricks."
"What was his name?" Katie asked.
"George. After the king of England. King George."
"What's a king do?" Byron asked.
He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "Well, I'm not sure. It's a bit like the president here. He
runs the country."
"Is King George a good king?" Katie asked.
"Well, not everyone thought so. But he's not king anymore. After he died there was a king with my
name. King William. And now there's a queen called Queen Victoria. And she's a very good queen."
"Mama, in England they have a queen," Katie said excitedly. "A lady runs the whole country."
"Yes, I've heard," she replied with a smile.
"I didn't even know girls were allowed," Katie said.
"It'd be nice if we had a woman president of our country someday," Michaela remarked.
"Don't get any ideas," Sully remarked wryly. "Ya know how I feel about politics."
"I didn't mean me," she replied with a soft laugh. "But someone."
"I think a lady would do a real good job," Sully said. "If she's anything like you."
"Women make very good politicians," William remarked. "They truly care about their people. That
makes for a good leader."
Michaela smiled at him and rested the baby over her shoulder.
"I'm done," Byron announced, standing up. "Mama, can I go show Gran'pa the waterfall?"
"Certainly. But stay with him. Don't wander too far."
"Yes, ma'am." He grabbed William's hand, dragging him to his feet. "Come on, Gran'pa. Come on.
I'll show you my favorite spot."
"Yes, of course." He put his plate down and squeezed his hand. "Where is it?"
"Down this path, follow me," he instructed as they took off down a narrow trail. "You like Colorado,
Gran'pa?"
"Yes, I do."
He spotted a long, bare stick on the ground and lighted up with excitement. "Here's a good walking
stick!" He grabbed it and handed it to him. "Here, use this."
William clutched the stick firmly in his hand. "This is a good walking stick. Thank you."
"You're welcome!" he exclaimed as they continued their hike.
William watched him with a smile. He reminded him so much of his first wife, especially when they
met when she was sixteen and her parents bought the farm for sale next to his parents' property.
She was the most loving, sweetest person he had ever known. And she was spirited just like Byron.
She got excited about everything, from a change in the weather to a trip into town to a new poem
she was reading.
"You remind me of your grandmother," he spoke up softly.
"Gran'ma? Really? Mama says I look like Papa."
He sighed. Byron thought he was talking about Elizabeth. He didn't understand that he also had a
grandmother on his father's side of the family, albeit one who had passed away decades before he
was even born. But William was sure Katherine would have adored him with all her heart. She would
have adored all her grandchildren.
"The creek's just up there. Come on, Gran'pa!" Byron encouraged. He let go of his hand and ran
ahead at full speed.
"Wait for me," he said with a chuckle. "I'm an old man."
Byron made his way down the bank, arms flailing. He stopped short and burst into a smile. Two
little black bear cubs, probably no more than six weeks old, were playing along the banks, wrestling
with each other and lightly nipping each other. He watched them with amusement for a moment,
then suddenly his smile faded. He remembered his father warning him countless times about bear
cubs. Where there were bear cubs, there was sure to be a mother. And a mother bear was always
extremely protective of her young, to the point where she could be very dangerous. Sully had
always told him to walk away slowly and quietly if he came across such a situation. Just as Byron
was turning to walk back up the bank and warn William of his findings, the cubs' mother came
charging out of the trees at full speed toward him.
Byron shouted and scrambled to get up the bank, but the bear quickly caught him and pushed him
to the ground.
"Gran'pa!" Byron cried in horror. He screamed in sheer agony as the bear batted his back with her
large paw. Then she growled and grabbed his leg with her teeth, dragging him a few feet down the
bank. Byron screeched again piercingly.
"Get away from him! Get away!" William screamed, waving his walking stick and running down the
bank. "Get away!" He ran straight up to the bear, screaming and shouting at her and hitting her
face with the stick with all his might. Startled, the bear immediately let go of Byron's leg and jogged
down the bank for her cubs.
"Gran'pa! Gran'pa!" Byron shrieked, clutching his leg.
William fell to his knees, face pale in shock. Blood oozed and sputtered from Byron's leg. There was
no doubt he was severely injured. "Come on, boy," he said, lifting him into his arms.
Byron clutched William's neck and cried hysterically.
"Hush, I'll take you to your mother. You'll be all right," William said, patting his back and racing back
up the bank.
William ran back toward the picnic area, Byron cradled in his arms. The little boy was crying
despairingly and clutching his wounded leg.
"Michaela!" William shouted.
"Oh, my God!" Michaela cried, rising to her feet and running toward him. "What happened? Oh, my
God, Byron!"
Sully followed quickly behind. His heart sank and his whole chest tightened with fear at the
horrifying sight of his bloody and wounded son.
"Byron!" Katie cried as she and Red Eagle stood up and followed.
"A bear," William panted. "A bear attacked him. He ran into her cubs at the river."
Byron whimpered and clutched Michaela's arm. "Mama."
"Lay him on the blanket," Michaela said, quickly returning to their picnic blanket and pushing aside
the basket and a few plates.
Sully grabbed Michaela's medical bag out of the back of the wagon and opened it for her. Katie
started crying and Red Eagle held her hand to comfort her.
"Help him, Mama," Katie pleaded.
Michaela took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. She couldn't panic. Her son needed her to keep
control and draw on all her medical knowledge to save his life. She grabbed a pair of bandage
scissors out of her bag and cut open his pant leg. His leg was covered in blood and he had two
severe puncture wounds. "I'm going to need to put him to sleep to suture him. He's going to need
several dozen stitches," she said, probing his leg carefully. "It tore into the muscle." She grabbed a
few napkins and wrapped them around his wounds. "Hold those there, Sully. Put as much pressure
on it as you can."
Byron sobbed and looked up at his mother and father tearfully.
"I know, sweetheart. Mama's going to make you all better. Can you turn on your side?" Michaela
asked.
Sully helped him roll carefully to the left so Michaela could examine his back. "Come on, son. Turn
on your side. Good boy," he murmured.
Michaela cut open his shirt. There was a row of bloody scratches down his back where the bear had
clawed him, but they were much shallower than his leg wound.
"Michaela, tell me how to help," William spoke up.
Michaela gathered some more napkins and pressed them to his back. "Hold these here," she
instructed. "Press it down firmly."
William got down on his knees and pressed the napkins against his back. Meanwhile Michaela cut off
a length of bandage and wrapped it around Byron's thigh, pulling it as tight as it would go. Byron
moaned in response and tried to push Michaela's hands away.
"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry." She glanced at Sully. "It's a tourniquet."
"Ya gonna stitch him up here?" Sully asked, panting.
"I'm going to need to put him under. It's going to take several hours to stitch everything. I think we
should move him to the clinic."
He nodded and kept smoothing back Byron's hair. "We're gonna go on a little ride, son."
"No," he whimpered.
Michaela dug into her medical bag and found a bottle of morphine and a syringe. Byron watched
her in horror.
"No shot, Mama! No shot!" he cried.
"I have to, my darling," she said as she filled up the syringe. "It's a long ride back to town and
Mama wants you to be comfortable."
"No shot!" he begged. "Please!"
"Be a brave boy, Byron," William said. "This will just be a wee pinch and you'll feel better, all right?"
Byron sniffled. "All right, Gran'pa," he murmured.
"All right. There's a brave boy," he replied.
Michaela thrust the needle into his thigh and he screeched and writhed in protest.
"Hold him, Sully!" Michaela cried.
Sully grabbed his arms firmly and held him down. "Hang on. Hang on," he said, eyes welling with
tears. "You're doin' so good. Hang on."
"Byron," Katie whimpered, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Byron."
"Let's get him into the wagon. Lift him up carefully," Michaela instructed.
"You get his arms," William said. "I'll lift under his legs."
Sully slowly stood up and lifted Byron under the arms and William supported his legs. They walked
the few steps to the wagon, Sully unlatched the back and pulled it down and they gently laid him in
the back.
Michaela grabbed the picnic blanket and lifted it up, dumping all the dishes and silverware and cups
onto the ground. Then she hurried to the wagon and climbed up beside Byron, covering him warmly
with the blanket and crouching down beside his head.
Sully and William lifted the children into the back with Michaela, and Sully grabbed the basket with
the baby in it and climbed up on the seat, placing the basket on the floor.
"Mama's here," Michaela said, lifting the little boy's head into her lap and holding his face between
her hands. "Mama's here. You're all right, aren't you, sweetheart?"
"Yeah," he said tearfully.
"Ya ready?" Sully asked, looking back as he gathered the reins.
She nodded. "Not too fast. We don't want to jostle him too much."
He nodded and gave the reins a big slap. "G'up. G'up!"
Sully leaned over the examination table and watched Byron's chest slowly move up and down. The
little boy wore nothing but the tattered remains of his long underwear, the pant leg and the back of
the garment having been cut open with Michaela's bandage scissors when she first examined him.
"More chloroform," Michaela instructed as she worked on repairing his leg. She had been silently
counting the stitches as she put them in. This one was the twenty-seventh, and she still had a lot
more to go. Her apron and sleeve protectors were soaked with blood, and there was a little streak
of blood across her brow where she had dabbed away the perspiration with the back of her hand.
Sully grabbed the cloth and doused it with chloroform and held it over his mouth. "Here ya go, son.
You hang on."
Andrew suddenly opened the door, stepping into the room urgently.
"I just heard," he said, shutting the door on the crowd of people outside and walking to the table.
"Oh, Andrew, I'm so glad you're here," Michaela said gratefully.
"How are his vitals?" he asked, grasping the little boy's wrist and feeling his pulse.
"Blood pressure's low, but he's stable."
"Puncture wound?" he asked, watching as she continued to stitch his leg.
"It tore deep into the gastrocnemius muscle. I've been trying to repair it for an hour."
He gazed at her pointedly. "Michaela, was there any chance that bear was rabid?"
"I don't know," she said unsteadily.
"She had a couple cubs," Sully explained. "Sounds like she was just protectin' her young. Byron
musta took her by surprise."
He nodded. "Tell me what you'd like me to do."
"It's going to be awhile before I'm done with his leg. Could you start stitching up his back? He has
some lacerations across his shoulder. There's some fine suturing thread in my cabinet."
Andrew immediately walked to her basin and washed his hands thoroughly, then walked to her
cabinet, gathering the supplies he would need into a basin.
"He's lost so much blood," Michaela said fearfully.
"We'll give him some of mine," Sully said resolutely. "Just as soon as ya finish up here."
"Blood transfusions can be risky," Andrew remarked as he joined them at the operating table. "You
might make it worse."
"I done it more than a couple times," Sully said. "It's always worked."
"For some reason no one's ever had an adverse reaction to Sully's blood," Michaela explained.
Andrew wiped away some of the blood from the little boy's back as he examined his scratches.
"Well, in that case I think you should do it."
Sully tucked his arm under his head and watched his blood flow down a long rubber tube and into
his little boy's arm. Michaela stood by Byron and gently bathed his face with a cloth. He was still
unconscious from the chloroform and lots of morphine. Andrew was nearby silently cleaning up the
instruments from the surgery and discreetly folding up blood-soaked sheets and aprons and sleeve
protectors and placing them in the stove. At last Michaela turned to Sully and grasped the
tourniquet strapped to his upper arm, turning it to loosen it.
"No, give him a little more," Sully whispered.
"You've given him more than a pint already," she protested. "Sully, it's not going to help him if
you're incapacitated, too."
"I feel fine. Ya can give him a little more."
She reluctantly nodded and tightened the tourniquet. They watched the blood flow for a few more
minutes and then Michaela clamped the tube near Byron's arm. "All right. No more."
He gazed at her as she slowly removed the needle from Byron's arm, cleaned the area with some
iodine and wrapped it in a tight bandage. "He all right?" Sully asked, raising his head to look at him.
"Don't get up. Lie still. I'll get you something to eat in a moment."
He let his head fall back and tried to stay still as Michaela loosened the tourniquet, removed the
needle from his vein and tied a similar bandage around his arm. Then she filled a glass from a
pitcher of water and handed it to him.
"Drink all of that down if you can."
He drank the whole glass and then slowly sat up as Michaela found a tin of crackers and handed
him a few to eat.
"Are you dizzy at all? Light headed?" she asked, rubbing his arm.
He ate one of the crackers. "No, I feel all right. Just worried about him right now."
Michaela put her stethoscope in her ears and listened to Byron's heart again. It was faster than she
would have liked, but steady.
Andrew approached them. "There's a lot of people waiting for word outside," he spoke up. "Would
you like me to speak to them?"
Michaela put her stethoscope around her neck and took a brave breath. "No, I think I should do it.
They should hear this from me."
Andrew gently touched his hand to Byron's head. "I'll stay with him. I'll call you if anything
changes."
"Let me come with ya," Sully said, slowly sliding down from the table.
Michaela grasped his arm to steady him and they made their way slowly to the door. Michaela
opened it. She was overwhelmed by all the townsfolk waiting outside. The Reverend was right up
front, holding his Bible and walking stick. Elizabeth and William were sitting on the bench and
Dorothy was standing right next to them cradling the baby. Matthew had his arm around Katie and
Loren was rubbing Red Eagle's back. Brian was also standing with the children, his hand on Red
Eagle's shoulder. Grace and Robert E. were standing nearby, Grace clutching the cross around her
neck. Horace and Myra and Samantha were also on the edges of the crowd. Faye and Kirk were
waiting beside Jake and Teresa, who was holding a rosary. Preston had wandered over from his
bank to wait for word, too. Even Hank had made his way over from the saloon with a few of his
girls.
"He made it through the surgery," Michaela said.
The crowd let out sighs of relief.
"Thank the good Lord," Grace whispered.
"He's stable for now. But he's lost a lot of blood," she explained. "We gave him some of Sully's and
he's resting now. Now we just have to wait."
Katie got up from the bench and ran to Michaela, hugging her tightly and bursting into tears.
"Shh. Shh," Michaela soothed, stroking her hair helplessly. "He's going to be all right. He'll be all
right."
"I've organized a prayer meeting," the Reverend spoke up. "We're going to head over to the church
right now."
"We appreciate that, Reverend," Michaela replied, holding Katie tightly as the townsfolk slowly
disbanded and made their way to the church.
Elizabeth and William lingered behind with the children and Brian.
"I want to see him," Katie pleaded. "Please, Mama?"
Michaela glanced at Sully. Byron looked very battered and weak right now. She had a feeling it
might not be a good idea the children visit just yet.
"Maybe in the morning, all right?" she whispered. "He's sleeping now. He needs to rest."
"All right," Katie whispered.
William slowly got to his feet, clutching his hat. "Sully, Michaela, I can't tell you how sorry I am."
"No. William, you saved his life," Michaela replied. "You warded off that bear from doing further
damage."
"Saved his life?" Sully blurted. "Michaela, it's his fault Byron even got hurt!"
"Sully, how can you say that?" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"Everybody knows ya don't walk up to a creek bed this time of year in bear country without checkin'
first. Harder for 'em to hear ya comin' and move out of the way."
"Sully, it was an accident," Michaela protested.
"It was careless," he retorted, taking a step toward William. "From now on I want ya to stay away
from my kids, my family."
"But … Gran'pa," Red Eagle spoke up quietly. "He saved Byron."
William glanced at the little boy with surprise. He had never called him Grandpa before. But he
didn't have time to be moved what with Sully staring him down so lividly. He reached his hand up to
touch Sully's shoulder.
"Son, I know you're-"
"I ain't your son!" Sully retorted. He pushed him off roughly and William staggered back.
"Hey, take it easy!" Brian shouted, quickly standing up and moving between the men to prevent any
more contact.
"Sully, please don't do this now," Michaela pleaded.
"I mean it. I want him out of our lives," he retorted. He stumbled a bit, suddenly feeling very dizzy.
"Sully, stop. You just lost a lot of blood," Michaela said, holding onto his arm securely. "You need to
come inside, sit down."
Brian took his other arm. "Come on, Pa. Lie down inside."
He reluctantly nodded and allowed Michaela and Brian to lead him back into the clinic. He was livid
with William, but at the moment, his son needed him more.
The sun was just coming up as Michaela examined Byron's injured leg. Her stitchwork appeared to
be taking well. The wound was no longer bleeding and his leg was looking a lot better. She carefully
cleaned the wound with her carbolic acid and some cotton.
Sully was sitting on the bed, Byron's head in his lap. Sully held a glass and gave him little sips of
water every so often and kept bathing his face with a cloth. He was coming in and out of
consciousness, whimpering and sniveling when he was awake but still unable to speak. Andrew was
dozing in a rocking chair near the bed, his stethoscope around his neck.
Michaela wrapped the wound in fresh bandages and suddenly noticed Byron's hospital gown was
damp. "Oh. Sully, he just urinated."
Sully glanced down worriedly and kept bathing his face.
"It's actually a good sign," she spoke up reassuringly. "Everything's still functioning normally. I'll get
him a fresh gown." She walked to the cabinet nearby and found another child's gown. She unfolded
it and returned to the bed.
"Let's sit him up. Gently," she instructed, helping Sully lift Byron from the pillows and then
unbuttoning his gown and carefully slipping it over his head.
"Hang on, son," Sully whispered. "Mama's gonna get ya dry in just a minute here."
Byron moaned a little as Michaela dried his thighs with a cloth and then slipped the new gown over
his head.
Sully buttoned it up for him and then laid him back against the pillow. Byron suddenly began
whimpering in earnest and tossing his head in distress.
"Shh, shh," Michaela whispered, leaning over him and caressing his face. "Mama's here. Mama's
here."
"Mama," he suddenly choked out.
Tears fell down her cheeks. "Yes. Mama's here, my darling. Mama and Papa are right with you."
"We ain't leavin'," Sully vowed, smoothing back his hair.
"Hurts," he cried.
"Oh. I know. We'll get you some more medicine, all right?" She quickly grabbed the syringe and
bottle of morphine, filling the syringe with a generous douse of the drug, pulling up his gown and
injecting it into his uninjured leg. Byron screeched at the pain of the injection and them whimpered
some more and closed his eyes.
Andrew slowly roused and made his way to the bed.
"Try to sleep, my baby boy," Michaela soothed, giving his lips a gentle kiss. "Sleep."
Andrew took out his stethoscope and listened to the child's heart. Then he felt his pulse at his neck.
"Blood pressure's dangerously low," he remarked.
Michaela grasped his wrist tearfully and felt his pulse. Andrew was right, his pulse was very weak
and he was cool to the touch, hallmark signs of low blood pressure.
"What he needs is more blood," Andrew said, folding his arms.
"I'll give him some more of mine," Sully immediately volunteered.
"No, we can't give him anymore of yours, Sully," Michaela said, shaking her head. "The body can
only safely tolerate giving about a pint."
"We need to find someone else who can," Andrew said.
"I'll do it," Michaela said resolutely. "I'm his mother, chances are our blood is similar."
"Michaela, you lost a great deal of blood yourself after Eliza was born," Andrew replied. "It takes
months to replenish such a significant loss. You could become very anemic if you gave him blood
right now."
"Andrew's right," Sully spoke up. "Sides, ya don't wanna be feelin' weak when he needs ya right
now.
She nodded in agreement. As much as she wanted to help her son any way she could, she wasn't
the best person to be giving him blood right now. She thought a moment, then looked up resolutely.
"William."
"William?" Andrew replied.
"We could ask William to give him some," she said. "He's elderly, but he's strong and healthy. He
could do it."
"No," Sully said firmly. "No, he ain't goin' near him."
"Sully, we know very little about why some blood causes a reaction in patients and some doesn't,"
Michaela said. "But for whatever reason thus far everyone's been able to tolerate your blood. That
particular composition may run in families. He's your father. His blood may be similar to yours."
Andrew nodded. "I agree. I think we should ask him."
"What if it don't work?" Sully demanded. "He could kill him! Michaela, no."
"He's not going to make it without it! I'm not going to let our child die because you're angry at your
father," she retorted. "Sully, I know you're angry, and I know you have every right to be. But
William's our best chance right now. We have to do this!"
He turned his head away lividly, staring out the window and not replying. He tenderly clasped
Byron's hand in his and squeezed it.
Michaela swallowed hard. "Stay with him. I'll see if I can find William. If he hasn't left already."
to be continued...
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Michaela rapped on the door to William's room at the boarding house, still in her apron and her hair
disheveled and tied back with a piece of rawhide.
"Come in," William called softly.
Michaela opened the door. He was standing beside his bed, slowly packing his belongings into his
satchel. He turned to glance at her, face drawn.
"The boy's passed on," he whispered stoically.
"No, he … he made it through the night," she replied.
He let out a great sigh of relief.
"William, I know this has been difficult for both you and Sully, and I know how hard you've been
trying to make amends. You need to give this time."
"Sully has the final say here. If he doesn't want me in his life then I have to go."
"You know I don't agree with him. You know I want you to be part of our family. If you truly feel
you need to go then that's up to you. But before you go I need to ask an important favor of you."
He gazed at her in confusion. "What's that?"
"Byron needs more blood. Sully gave him some of his and it certainly helped, but he needs more.
Dr. Cook and I are thinking perhaps you and Sully have similar blood, that your blood won't react
with his."
He stepped forward, intrigued. "What do I have to do?"
She folded her hands in front of her. "I would insert a needle into a vein in your arm and withdraw
about a pint. It's not without risks. You may feel weak and lightheaded for a few days afterward,
and sometimes some people feel ill and may faint."
"Of course I'll do it. Michaela, of course I'll do it."
"Oh, thank you, William," she replied tearfully, stepping toward him and touching his arm. "Thank
you."
"Take me to the boy. Let's do it right now."
"Squeeze your fist hard," Michaela instructed as she stood over William's cot with a needle and
examined the veins in his left arm. She tapped the best vein with her middle finger, then took the
needle and slowly inserted it. William stared at the ceiling, not uttering a sound. Blood flowed down
into the rubber tube all the way to the clamp Michaela had placed at the other end. "Now just make
a fist every five seconds or so," she instructed as she turned to Byron. Andrew had cleaned his arm
with iodine and laid it out on the covers. Michaela carefully inserted the needle, tied it secure with a
small bandage, and then unclamped the tube and watched as the blood flowed into Byron's arm.
Sully was standing nearby at the window, staring out it solemnly and refusing to look at William.
"How long does this take?" William asked curiously.
"Ten or fifteen minutes," she replied. "Depending on how quickly your blood flows."
He looked up at her pointedly. "Will this work, Michaela?"
"I hope so," she whispered. "All I know is you're the best chance we have."
Michaela felt Byron's pulse as Sully dozed in a chair beside the bed. It was about noon, and outside
the rest of the town was going about their normal routines. But inside everyone's focus was on the
little boy in the upstairs recovery room clinging to life.
Suddenly Byron parted his lips, letting out a quiet moan as if trying to speak.
Michaela knelt down beside him and smoothed his hair. "Sweetheart? It's Mama. Can you open your
eyes?" Just as she was reaching for her stethoscope to listen to his heart again, Byron suddenly
turned his head toward her and gave a little cry.
"Byron?" she said, studying him intently. "Byron, Mama's here. Wake up." She glanced at Sully.
"Sully, I think he's coming around."
Sully opened his eyes and leaned forward, clutching the little boy's arm. "Byron? Son, can ya open
your eyes?"
Byron slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Michaela with relief.
"Oh, there's my baby boy," Michaela said tearfully, holding his hand. "There you are." She kissed his
cheek. "Oh, I love you."
He was so groggy from the morphine he could barely speak, but he kept looking at her and blinking.
"Squeeze my hand," Michaela instructed. "Can you squeeze Mama's hand?"
Byron squeezed her hand hard.
"Good boy," she said tearfully. "Good boy." She smoothed his hair and sniffled. "You have so many
people praying for you and waiting for word about you. So many people who care about you. Your
pa gave you some of his blood to help you. And so did William. Everyone wants you to get better so
much."
"Gran'pa," he choked out.
"Oh," she murmured. "Oh, well, I think he's still downstairs. Do you want to see him?"
He nodded tiredly, closing his eyes.
"I'll get him for you," she said, moving to stand up.
"No," he immediately whimpered. "Stay. Mama, stay."
"I'll get him. I'll get him for ya, son," Sully said, patting his arm. "Just hang on."
Sully found William sitting on one of the cots downstairs, hands folded in front of him.
"Ya feel all right?" Sully asked quietly. "Ya ain't dizzy?"
"I'm fine. How's the boy?"
"He's awake. He just woke up, started talkin'."
"He did? Oh, thank God."
"He wants ya to come up," Sully added. "He's askin' for ya."
William slowly got to his feet.
"Listen, I wanna thank ya for what ya did," Sully said. "Givin' him blood. He wouldn't of made it
without it."
"He's my grandson, Sully," William replied. "I had no choice."
"I know he is. I know he's your grandson. And I want him to have a grandfather. All of 'em. I want
you in their lives."
William looked at him, perplexed. "Sully, are you sure?"
"I never had grandparents. I never had anybody growin' up once my ma passed on. I want things to
be different for 'em. Elizabeth, Michaela's ma, she's been the best thing for 'em. This is their chance
to have a gran'pa, too, and from now on I wanna support that."
"You don't know how badly I want to be in their lives, Sully. They're just…they're wonderful. All of
them. Thank you."
Sully folded his arms and took a deep breath. "Maybe ya couldn't save my ma. But ya saved my
son. And I'm grateful." He held out his hand and they tentatively shook. "Go on up. He's waitin'."
"Yes. Right away," William said tearfully, swallowing hard and heading up the stairs.
"Look, Byron, it's Grandpa," Michaela said as William slowly entered the room.
Byron opened his eyes again and looked toward William.
"How you feeling, son?" he whispered, approaching the bed and crouching beside him.
"Not good," he said hoarsely.
He smoothed his hair. "Shh. Rest now. You're going to be fine."
William stepped out onto the clinic porch tiredly and took a seat on the bench. He glanced at the
bandage Michaela had tied around his elbow where he had given blood. Then he untied it and
waded it up in his hand with a sigh.
Dorothy spotted him as she headed down the street carrying a pile of copies of her Gazette to put
outside Loren's store.
"William? How's Byron doing?" she called as she approached him.
He nodded. "Michaela's changing his bandages. No sign of infection. It looks like he's going to pull
through."
"Good." She handed him the Gazette. "Thought you might like a copy."
He looked at the banner headline in disbelief. Hero saves local boy from bear attack, it read.
"Dorothy, I'm not a hero," he protested.
"Yes you are. According to everyone I've talked to. A reporter has an obligation to print the truth.
And that's what I did."
He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face behind his hands. "Why do I make such a
mess of everything I've ever been given? First Sully's mother and our sons, now I can't even
manage to look after my own grandchildren properly."
Dorothy patted his back. "Oh, William. We've all walked along that creek a hundred times without
giving a thought that there could be bears down there. It was an accident."
"Well, it was no accident when I walked out on Sully and his mother and brother," he muttered.
"William, I know all you want is for Sully to forgive you for that," she whispered.
"Oh, Dorothy. More than anything," he whispered back.
"Well, then you have got to forgive yourself first. You've got to understand it was a mistake that a
very young man made. You've grown up since then. William, it's all right to forgive yourself."
He turned toward her tearfully and she drew him into a warm, comforting hug.
Brian leaned against Michaela's cabinet in the main room of the clinic. Katie and Red Eagle were
silently playing a slow game of checkers on one of the cots and Elizabeth was sitting at Michaela's
desk solemnly cradling the baby.
Michaela opened the door carrying a basin and an empty bottle of morphine and walked into the
room. Her hair was a mess and she looked utterly drained.
"How is he?" Elizabeth immediately asked.
She joined her at the desk and Brian stepped toward them.
"His pulse is steady and his blood pressure's climbing," she said, swallowing hard. "He's just in a lot
of pain." Her eyes welled with tears. "I have to keep him so drugged at the moment that he can't
stay awake."
"Well, sweetheart, that's all right," Elizabeth said. "Sleep is what he needs to do right now to heal."
"Yes, you're right," she said, raising her hand and swiping at her tears.
Brian touched her back. "Ma, ya gotta keep your strength up. Let me head over to the café and
bring everybody over somethin' to eat."
She nodded. "Thank you, Brian."
"I'll be right back," he replied, grabbing his hat off the rack and heading outside.
"Brian!" Sarah shouted as she scurried over from the store carrying her basket.
Brian stopped short. He hadn't seen Sarah in a week. They both had been avoiding each other. She
didn't come into town when she knew he would be working at the Gazette, and he hadn't made any
effort to go near her place. Byron was first on his mind at the moment, but the heartache he had
been going through at the idea of losing Sarah for good had not abated.
"Brian! Brian! I just heard. Mr. Bray just told me." She burst into tears and dropped her basket on
the bench, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Brian!"
"Oh, Sarah," he murmured. It felt so good to have her in his arms again, and to have her
supporting him through something like this.
"He's gonna be all right. Please tell me he's gonna be all right," she cried.
He stroked her hair. "He's hanging on. Pa and my gran'pa gave him some blood."
"Oh, Brian, I'm so sorry," she went on tearfully. "I'm so sorry about our fight. It seems so silly now."
"No, no it ain't silly," he replied. "You were right."
"No I wasn't. I was being petty. I just I…" She pulled back and gazed into his eyes, caressing his
chest with one hand. "Brian, I love you so much. The idea of you ever gettin' hurt by somebody, I
don't know, it just scared me. I didn't know what to do. I panicked."
"I know you just said those things cause you were tryin' to protect me," he said, caressing her
cheek. "I'd wanna protect you from somebody I thought wasn't good for ya, too."
"You invite who you want. It's your wedding, too," she said. "Important thing is my future brotherin-law makes it through this. That's what matters."
"Future brother-in-law? This mean you still want to go through with the weddin'?" he asked
hopefully.
"Go through with it?" she echoed with a chuckle. "You make it sound like it's somethin' I should be
dreadin'!"
"Well, maybe ya should," he said softly. "After all, I'm gonna be your husband."
She hugged him again, kissing him. "Oh, Brian. Of course I want to marry you. I never stopped
wanting to marry you. I've wanted to marry you since the day we met."
He rocked her lovingly. "No you didn't. When we met I told ya I was ten and you said you were
eleven and then ya stuck your nose in the air and walked off."
She chuckled. "Oh, right. Well, maybe I wasn't quite in love just then."
"But ya are now?" he murmured.
"Oh, yes," she replied, hugging him all the tighter.
He put his arm around her. "Come on, let's head over to the café. Ya can help me bring over supper
for everybody."
Sully bathed Byron's face with a wet cloth and held his hand. The little boy was softly moaning and
looked to be in a great deal of discomfort, even though Michaela had just given him another
injection of morphine not half an hour ago.
William walked into the room carrying a basin. "Here's some fresh water," he said, placing it on the
nightstand.
"My leg, my leg," Byron moaned. "Mama, my leg."
"Shh," Sully soothed, dipping the cloth into the water. "Just try an' relax."
He writhed and whimpered, tears falling down his cheeks. "Mommy, help."
"I got ya," he whispered. "Shh, it's all right. Try not to move. Try to lie still. Your ma's comin'.
Mama's comin'."
He moaned despairingly and Sully shared a helpless glance with William. They had been trying to
comfort Byron all night, and they were both exhausted. And neither of them was sure how much
longer they could watch the little boy suffer like this.
William walked to the doorway. "Michaela! Michaela, hurry!" he called down the hall.
Michaela entered the room with a steaming teacup and a pillow under her arm.
"Michaela, hurry," William said frantically. "Please, do something."
"Mommy! Mommy!" Byron called desperately.
"Drink this tea, sweetheart," Michaela said. "Papa's going to help you drink it."
"I can't," he muttered. "No, yucky."
Sully took the teacup from Michaela and held it to his lips. "Come on. Just gotta take a few sips."
Michaela turned down the covers and placed the pillow beside his leg. "I'm just going to elevate
your leg a little, my darling. Mommy's going to put it on the pillow."
"I don't want to. I don't want a pillow!" he protested.
"It'll help it feel better," she replied reassuringly. "It won't hurt so much."
"No! No!" He screamed despairingly as Michaela carefully lifted his leg onto the soft pillow.
William paled considerably and paced near the door, nearly sick with worry. Sully gritted his teeth
and his eyes welled with tears. Even he had to turn his head away a moment to keep himself
together.
Michaela rubbed Byron's uninjured leg. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. We're all done. All done. You
just rest now."
He moaned again and Sully tried to give him some more tea. He immediately spit it out and turned
his head away.
Sully finally had to get up and walk into the hallway a moment to get some air. Michaela laid a cloth
across Byron's forehead and then followed Sully, William behind her.
Sully was pacing the hallway restlessly. "He's hurtin' so bad. Why ain't the medicine workin'?"
"You have to give him more, Michaela," William added, clutching the doorframe.
"I've given him as much as I dare. Unfortunately these first few days are going to be uncomfortable
for him." She walked to Sully and stopped him in his tracks, rubbed his arm reassuringly. "It's
actually a good thing he's feeling pain, as difficult as it is to watch. It means there wasn't any
substantial nerve damage." She squeezed his arm. "You've been up with him all night. You both
have. Why don't you take a break, go downstairs and make us some coffee?"
"No, I ain't leavin' him," Sully vowed.
"Neither am I," William added.
"Sully, William, he's all right. I'll stay with him. It's all right to take a break for a little while. He
needs us to take care of ourselves, too. Besides, I really could use that coffee."
Sully let out a deep sigh. "All right. I'll make some coffee."
"You call us the second you need anything," William added.
"I will," she replied.
Sully headed downstairs and William followed him. Sully headed to the stove and opened the
damper, adding a few more logs to the weak fire. Then he placed the coffee pot over the front
burner. Finally he stepped back and leaned against Michaela's desk, staring blankly forward.
William tentatively raised his arm and rested it on Michaela's cabinet. "You know what I was thinking
the other day? "
Sully slowly met his eyes.
William smiled softly. "He's so full of life, has so much soul. He's such a happy little boy. I was
thinking he reminds me of your mother."
Sully swallowed hard. He had often thought the same thing. In fact he saw a little of Katherine in all
of the children. Katie had inherited her grandmother's beautiful pale, thin blond hair and her pure,
gentle heart. Byron certainly had some of her spirit. And even at just a month old, there was
something about Eliza's eyes that reminded him of his mother, especially when she would stare up
at him resolutely as if thinking very hard. Katherine had had that same intense look about her when
she was contemplating something.
Sully took a deep breath. It was so very rare he ever talked about his mother or even thought about
her. She was all he had and losing her at such a young age had been so painful he had always been
afraid to face it. But suddenly thinking about the way the children were like her was reminding him
of the good times he had shared with her. Of all the happy times. And he felt a newfound curiosity
for who she was and where she had come from, this brave, bold woman who had done such a
wonderful job loving him, raising him and shaping him into the man he would become.
"I remember her eyes. Clear, bright blue, like the Hudson River on a hot summer day," Sully
remarked softly.
William gazed at him with surprise. "Yes. Yes, they were."
"I always wondered, what was the name of the ship?"
"The ship?" he echoed.
Sully swallowed hard. "The ship I was born on. Ma, she couldn't remember the name."
He thought a long moment. "Well, let me see. It was called the Brig Emilie. Yes."
"The Brig Emilie," he echoed softly.
"She was a sound ship. She'd made many voyages between Liverpool and America. She saw us
through a few bad storms."
Sully was silent awhile, then folded his arm. "How'd ya come to leave so late in the fall?"
He shook his head with a soft smile. "That was my fault. We should have waited until spring but I
thought we could make it. I was a young man, ignorant to the ways of the world. And very foolish.
That's how you came to be born on the Brig Emilie. Because your pa liked to take chances."
"She never actually said it. But growin' up I always felt like Ma didn't really wanna be here. She
missed home. She missed England."
He sighed. "Yes, I knew that. Deep down I knew that. She never wanted to leave in the first place.
It was to her credit she stuck by my side despite how homesick she was."
"Why'd ya come to America?" he asked. "Were things bad in England?"
He slowly took a seat. "I still remember the exact day I met your mother. July thirty-first, eighteen
thirty-one."
William Sully raised his shovel and struck it down hard into the dark soil, loosening it. His mother
was raking up some leaves and other rubbish beside him, sweating under the warm summer sun as
she toiled on her beloved garden. Nearby his little brother James was tending to some cabbage
plants with a hoe. At just twelve and small for his age, James was too young yet to handle the
horses and heavy farm equipment or do much hard physical labor. William and his father shouldered
the responsibility of the bulk of the chores and farm work. But his mother and brother pitched in too
as much as possible. The entire family worked very hard every day to make a successful farm and
turn a profit come harvest time, or at least break even.
He dug up some more soil and then looked out at the road, spotting a woman and her young
daughter walking down the road toward their cottage.
"Visitors, Mother," he announced.
She stopped working and shielded her eyes. "Oh, that must be the new neighbors come to call."
She waved. "Good morrow to you!"
"Good morrow!" the woman called back as they approached.
William gazed at her daughter, a bit tongue tied. She was a little younger than him, perhaps about
sixteen, with the most beautiful, long blond hair he had ever seen. She had blue eyes that nearly
sparkled as she smiled, and her skin was rosy and soft and perfectly clear.
The older woman approached the garden fence and smiled kindly. "I'm Mary. This is my daughter
Katherine. My husband has purchased the property to the south."
William's mother put her rake aside and removed her gardening gloves. "Aye, I believe he and my
husband have already met. Corinna Sully. My son William and my son James."
"William. James," Mary replied.
"How do you do," William replied politely.
"How do you do," James echoed.
Katherine lingered shyly outside the garden, clutching a fence post, as Mary walked into the garden
to talk with Corinna. Soon the ladies were laughing and arranging to have tea together later in the
day. William leaned on his shovel and gazed at Katherine. She gave him a little smile and he
coughed and pretended he hadn't been staring at her.
Suddenly their old sheepdog came tearing out of the barn toward them, barking furiously. He ran up
to Katherine and barked up at her urgently. Unlike other girls William had known, Katherine didn't
seem afraid. She just seemed to think it was funny. James laughed but William abandoned his
shovel and marched up to the dog.
"George! George! Manners! This is our guest!" He pointed his finger at him.
Katherine let loose the most endearing giggle. "George? Is that after the King then?"
"The King?" He paused. "Oh, yes, miss. Indeed."
She smiled again and gazed at him shyly.
"William! Will!" Corinna called. "Take him away! Ghastly beast. Tie him up!"
"Yes, Mother!" he replied, scrambling outside the garden and clapping his hands at the dog. "Come.
Stop being a nuisance." He glanced at Katherine. "I'm sorry, miss."
"Oh, he's fine. He's just doing his duty. Don't you fancy dogs?" she asked.
"I don't mind them. Horses I fancy the most."
She smiled softly. "Me, too. Would you like to come by our cottage sometime and see our horses?
We have two new foals."
He had never known a girl to be so bold as to ask a boy to come calling at her house. He was so
taken aback it took him a moment to find his voice. "Oh. Aye, I would. Thank you."
"Good," she replied.
"Good," he stammered, quickly walking away with his dog.
"There you are," Katherine said with a smile as she fed the new colt an apple. "You like that?" She
stroked his pink nose through the fence.
William spotted Katherine at the fence and approached her, removing his hat and clearing his throat.
"Miss?" he spoke up.
Katherine spun around, clutching her heart with surprise. William was standing in front of her, his
hair neatly combed and his cheeks smooth after a recent shave.
"I'm William," he said nervously. "From the other day? We met in my mother's garden."
"I remember. Do you always sneak up on girls like that?"
"No. No, miss. Never," he blurted. "Your father said I could find you out here and I-I…that is, I…."
She giggled softly. "You can put your hat back on. I'm a peasant, not royalty."
"My mother says all women should be treated as queens."
"Does she now? I like your mother."
He was so struck by her beauty he forgot everything he planned to say and suddenly felt very
foolish and awkward. "Is that the, um, is that the foal? The colt?"
"Yes, one of them. The other's a filly," she replied, taking a step up onto the lower fence rail. The
colt found his mother and raised his head beneath her belly to nurse. "Aren't horses magnificent? I
could watch them all day long."
He stared at her, completely mesmerized. "Yes. Yes they are."
"His father's a stallion at some stables outside London, where we used to live. He's the most
beautiful sire you've ever seen. His coat looks like chocolate."
He dabbed at his brow with the back of his hand. "Well, I must be getting back. I'm to help my
father in the fields today."
Her face fell slightly. "Oh, all right. Mind that hot sun. Don't get burned."
"I won't. Good day." He turned around and walked a few steps, then suddenly spun around.
Katherine was climbing up onto the fence to sit on the post as she continued to admire the horses.
"Katherine?" he blurted hoarsely.
She glanced at him. "Oh, you're still here?"
He stepped closer to the fence. "Could I…that is, may I. May I call on you again? Miss Katherine."
She brightened a little and gazed back at him. "Yes. You may."
"Thank you," he replied, letting out a sigh of relief. He put his hat back on and quickly headed out
toward the road.
She smiled with amusement. "You're welcome, William!" she called.
William spotted one of Katherine's little sisters first, racing among all the large, starched white
sheets hanging to dry on the lines just outside their cottage.
"Will!" the little girl cried, her blonde curls tousled and her cheeks flushed as she skipped about.
"Good morrow, lassie," he replied. "Where's Katherine?"
"Katie!" she cried. "Katie! It's William!" She disappeared back into the sheets again.
Katherine appeared a moment later, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back with a kerchief.
Laundry day was always hard work, and she was the oldest and the only child old enough to be
capable of much help to her mother. She had three little sisters and a baby brother, but they were
all much younger than her and still required a lot of attention and care.
She immediately beamed when she saw William. "How was your trip?" she asked.
"Lovely, lovely," he said. "I, uh, I saw the land I'd like."
"Is it a fine piece of land?"
"Is is fine indeed." He couldn't hold it back any longer. "The bank master has approved my
mortgage. I can purchase it."
"Oh, William!" She forgot herself and threw her arms around him. "Then that means we can marry
now!"
He gazed at her with all the love in the world. They had only been courting a few months, but they
both had known right away they wanted to get married. He bought her a simple engagement ring,
though the most expensive he could manage to afford, and he proposed to her out in the fields near
the horses she loved so much. She had readily accepted of course, and ran straight home to gush
to her mothers and sisters. And then he had gone around to nearby towns, looking to buy a piece
of land suitable for farming where they could start their lives together. He found the land he was
looking for in Alresford, a town nearby, and his father had helped him to fill out all the paperwork
and obtain a sufficient mortgage. He was so thrilled everything was falling into place he just had to
give Katherine a kiss.
He caressed her cheek and bent his head, but she stopped him, pressing her hands to his lips.
"No, we mustn't. Mother's just inside," she protested.
"Just one, just one," he whispered, drawing her to him and pressing his lips to hers lovingly. "Oh,
how I missed you."
She eyed him wryly. "I knew you would try to steal a kiss."
"I'll steal another," he said playfully, drawing her back to him and kissing her again.
She giggled. "Stop. My mother. My sisters!"
He moved back slightly and held her hand. "I want us to get married right now. I mean, as soon as
possible."
"You should talk to my father you know. You haven't."
He gulped slightly. "Your father?"
"Yes. Ask him for my hand properly."
"Oh. Ask him for your hand?"
She giggled. "You're an echo, William."
He took his hat off nervously. "What do I say? How do I do it?"
"I don't know. You're the one who wants to marry me. You'll think of something."
She spun around and disappeared back among the sheets. William stood there a little taken aback
for a moment. He loved how bold and self-assured Katherine was. If there was something on her
mind she was honest with him about it. She didn't hedge around. He had never known such a
strong woman. And yet she was so feminine, so beautiful and loving. He was absolutely dreading
having to ask her father such a thing and petrified he might tell them no, but he was far too in love
to let his nerves stop him. He would ask her father properly, as she put it, and as soon as possible.
Katherine sat shyly at the table in the main room of the cottage with her mother. Mercifully, her
mother had sent her little brother and sisters outside to play so there would be a little quiet in the
house. Her father was standing beside the hearth puffing on his pipe as William nervously stood
before him, cap in his hands, and asked for Katherine's hand.
William had known from the day he first met her he wanted to marry her. He absolutely adored
everything about her, from her beautiful laugh to her lively, carefree personality to her sensitivity
and big, gentle heart. Her father had educated her himself, and she could read quite well. She read
to him from all her favorite poetry books and novels and he soon found he appreciated the beautiful
prose, too. She often talked about teaching the children they hoped to be blessed with to love the
great English authors and poets as well.
William's parents approved of the match. He was going to be a farmer, and Katherine was a
farmer's daughter. She knew what it took to run a farm and she would likely make a good wife for
him. Katherine's parents had reservations about how young they were, but they too soon recognized
how well-suited they were for each other.
"Where is this property you purchased did you say?" Katherine's father asked sternly.
"Alresford, sir."
"Good town. Along the river. Not too far."
"Yes, sir."
He puffed on his pipe for a long moment. "When you've built my daughter a proper place to live on
that land, you may have her hand."
William looked at him flabbergasted for a moment. He supposed he was expecting a bit more of a
fight from Katherine's father. Suddenly her father burst into laughter at the look on the young man's
face.
"You can marry her, son! Yes, I'm giving you her hand!" he told him.
He glanced at Katherine, who was beaming. Her mother clasped her arm and smiled as well.
"Yes!" he echoed. He grabbed her father's hand in both of his, shaking it vigorously. "I mean, thank
you, sir. Thank you!"
"God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, bless, preserve, and keep you," the minister
recited. Katherine and William stood before the old man patiently. Katherine wore a beautiful
headdress of wildflowers and greenery her mother and sisters had sewn for her, and her best
Sunday dress. He wore a new shirt and suit coat, a gift from his father. The ceremony took place at
Katherine's house, as was customary. Their parents and siblings and a few friends were in
attendance, sitting on the benches lined up nearby.
"The Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you," the minister continued, holding up one hand,
"and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that
in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."
"Amen," the crowd echoed and everyone clapped.
William turned toward Katherine and gazed at her lovingly. She burst into a smile and tears of joy
welled in her eyes. Many people, their mothers included, frowned upon kissing at the end of a
wedding. It was far too improper, especially in front of all their family and friends and the town
minister as well. But as a compromise, he grasped her left hand and kissed her fingers where he
had placed her wedding ring.
"Mrs. Sully," he whispered adoringly.
William gave Katherine a shy glance and tenderly found her hand beneath the covers. They were
resting silently in the cool night air, neither quite sure what the proper thing was to say. He
contemplated saying nothing and just going to sleep, but that didn't seem right either.
Finally he cleared his throat. "Kath? Are you all right?"
She shifted a bit to look at him. "Yes. And you?"
"Was it … I mean was I … " He cleared his throat again. "Were you pleased?"
She silenced him with a soft kiss to his flushed lips. "Most pleased."
"Oh, good," he murmured, feeling a little better. He snuggled her closer. "Our house is lovely."
"We still have a lot to do. Do you suppose you might build us a bookshelf?" She pointed toward
their small hearth, bathed in shadows. "We could put it just there, above the mantle."
"A bookshelf? That's a strange request."
"Yes, to put our books. It's not strange."
"Oh, well, I don't have any books."
She glanced at him in disbelief. "Don't have any books? Not even poetry?"
"I never did read very much poetry. I've read a few plays. Shakespeare. But those are my mother's
books."
"Oh, I fancy Shakespeare. He wrote some nice sonnets. But Lord Byron's my favorite."
"Lord Byron?" he murmured. "Is he English?"
Now she looked all but flabbergasted. "You've never heard of him!"
"No, I haven't."
"Then I'll have to introduce you." She gazed up at the ceiling blissfully. "And thou art dead, as
young and fair, As aught of mortal birth. And form so soft, and charms so rare, too soon return'd to
Earth."
He swallowed, not quite sure what to say. "Oh. Well, it's um…it's sad."
"That's not the point, William," she said a little impatiently. "Just listen to the prose. Listen to what
he does with the English language."
"I fear I've married a scholar," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And I'm just a farmer."
"Scholar, no," she admonished with a chuckle. "But Lord Byron, he speaks to my heart. He'll speak
to yours, you'll see. You have to get used to him."
He caressed her cheek and gave her a slow, soft kiss. "My heart's quite busy at the moment."
She smiled and shyly wrapped one arm around his strong muscles.
"Do you suppose we might have, we might have made a baby?" he asked.
She shyly bit her lip. "I don't know. Perhaps. That would be nice. I'll say a prayer tonight."
"It would be nice if we had some sons. For the farm."
"I'd like sons, too. Lord willing. But, could I have my bookshelf first? Please? I have a great deal of
books I'd like to bring from home."
He chuckled. "Yes, I'll make you your bookshelf. Whatever you desire, my Katherine. You're going
to have everything."
Katherine laid her three-year-old son in her bed and covered him warmly. Her husband didn't like
the baby in bed with them and he was always making her put him in his crib, but tonight she was
so angry with William she didn't care. He had gone off to the town pub and had been missing for
five hours now.
"Goodnight, Will, darling," she whispered, smoothing the baby's hair.
Katherine had become pregnant on their wedding night just as they had hoped, and nine months
later delivered a big healthy boy they named William Sully the third, and called him Will for short.
William was thrilled she had borne a son, and the baby was the joy of their lives when nothing else
around them was going as planned. Their first year it rained so much the corn and wheat and
watercress were all meager crops and at harvest time they barely broke even. When the baby
turned one, the frosts came early and destroyed almost everything. When Will turned two, a severe
drought swept across England and the greater part of Western Europe, and people began heading
for America in droves. William wanted to follow them and told Katherine as much, but she cried for
a week about how much she would miss her mother and father and brother and sisters and
England's beautiful countryside. He felt so terrible he promised her they would stay on and try it
again the next year.
When little Will was almost three, Katherine realized she was with child again. When she told
William they would be welcoming another baby the following Christmas, he panicked and took off to
drown his troubles in liquor at the town pub all night when he was never really a drinking man.
William suddenly barged inside, staggering and red-faced.
"William!" she cried, rushing to him.
He haphazardly pulled off his wrap. "Kath. I'm home, Kath," he slurred.
"Good Lord, look at yourself," she scolded.
He wrapped his arm around her and tried to plant a big kiss on her lips. "Come here. Come here."
He kissed her roughly.
"Stop it!" she cried, pushing on his chest. "William, don't. You're drunk!"
"You're right. We shouldn't. This is how we got in this predicament in the first place."
She looked up at him crossly. "Go to bed. We'll talk when you're sober."
"I'm sober," he protested. "Or bloody nearly there."
"Oh, for God sake. Come along," she said, grabbing his arm and leading him to their bed. She
moved the baby aside and then helped William into bed. He gazed at her adoringly as she unlaced
his muddy boots.
"Katherine, we're nineteen years old," he said.
"You're nineteen. I'm eighteen," she corrected.
"We're about to have another child to provide for, and we're at least eighty pounds in debt, not to
mention the mortgage."
She softened a little and gently caressed his thigh. "William, darling, we'll see us through this
together."
"How?" he whispered. "Kath, there's nothing for us here."
"You promised me. One more year," she said. "Have a go at one more crop. William? You
promised."
"Aye, that I did," he replied.
"It'll be a good crop this year then. Everyone says it's going to be a good year. Don't fret, William.
It's going to be a good year, I just know it."
William ran the tips of his fingers across the cornstalks. They were dry and wilting, struggling to
make it through another long, sweltering English summer. He took off his cap and brushed off the
dust, heaving a sigh.
"William!" Katherine called as she made her way down one of the corn rows, carrying a bucket and
a ladle and their toddler on her hip.
"You shouldn't be lifting him in your condition," he replied, taking their little boy from her and
patting his back.
"Nonsense, I feel fine."
"Pa!" Will cried with a giggle. "Cown! Get it!"
"Yes. Go play, Will," he instructed, putting him on his feet.
Will screamed and ran down one of the rows, holding his hands out like a souring bird.
William eyed a cornstalk that was limp and dried up. "Dead," he whispered, trying to yank it up
furiously.
"Darling, take some water, take a sip," she pleaded, dipping the ladle into the bucket. "You're going
to faint dead away out here."
He ignored her and yanked harder on the cornstalk, growling. "God damn it!"
"William! Stop!" she cried, grabbing his arm.
He backed up, panting, and looked at her. She was terrified. He put his arm around her, kissing her
head.
"Shh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kath."
She hugged him tightly. "William, darling, we'll find a way. God will provide."
He held her close, glancing at her growing belly. She had such faith that things were going to be
fine, but with the drought continuing like this for another year now, he didn't see how.
to be continued...
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Chapter Twenty-one
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"Katherine, a letter from Thomas!" William cried, rushing inside their cottage waving the thick piece
of paper.
"Thomas?" she replied. She was rocking little Will in the rocking chair in front of the hearth, trying
to get him to fall asleep.
"Thomas. My cousin Thomas who moved to Virginia last spring."
"Oh. That Thomas."
"They're selling land, Kath! They're selling land in a place called New York practically for nothing!"
he exclaimed.
"Hush, I'm trying to get the baby to sleep," she scolded.
"Pa! Papa!" Will cried, turning his head to look at him and grabbing Katherine's blouse sleeve.
"Oh, William, now he's wide awake again." She smoothed back his light brown locks. "Hush. Go to
sleep, love."
"It's no matter. He should hear this, too," William replied.
"When was that letter posted?" she asked distrustfully.
He glanced at the date up top. "August."
"Three months! What if they've run out of land?"
"Oh, Katherine, they don't run out of land in America! We have no concept of how vast it is there.
Kath, just listen. 'I have heard there is to be a sale of land along the river Hudson in New York
State. The land is put at two pennies to an acre."
"How much is that in America? Is it the same as to'pence?"
"Well, I don't know. The point is it's not very much." He looked at the letter again. "'The Hudson
Valley is a land rich and fertile, and suitable for growing corn, wheat, root vegetables, and keeping
cattle. The woods are abundant with spruce, maple, and oak.'" He glanced up. "Katherine, this is
our chance. We must go!"
"What of the new child?" she asked. "You mean for us to get on a ship across the Atlantic right this
moment?"
"The child will be born on American soil. But we must leave right now."
Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, William. It's truly come to this?"
William held her hand guiltily. He knew how much she didn't want to leave. She loved the lush,
rolling hills of Hampshire, and she always had a skeptical view of how wonderful everyone claimed
America was. She was an intelligent young woman and not easily taken in. And she was so close to
her family. She was very young when she had their first child, and unsure of herself at first. Her
mother and sisters had been so supportive and were nearly raising him with her. But in New York
there would be no one around to help with Will and the new baby, and they wouldn't know a soul.
When she said goodbye to her family in England and got on a boat to America, it was very likely
she would never see them again. He knew how much she was giving up. But the fact was he was
the husband, and he must make the decision. She knew that, and he knew if he told her they had
to go, she would comply.
"I know this is difficult, leaving your family behind," he whispered. "I'm very sorry."
She nodded in acknowledgment. She knew he wasn't just saying that. He truly did mean it.
"We must go, Katherine," he said resolutely. "We must be ready the day after tomorrow and travel
to Liverpool to board the passenger ship."
"All right, William," she replied unsteadily. "We must go."
"My dear, brave Katherine," he replied, drawing her into his arms and rocking her lovingly.
Seagulls circled overhead as dozens of Englishman and Irishman lined up on the docks at Liverpool
with their families and meager luggage.
Katherine sat on the only suitcase they owned and rested as she waited for her husband to tend to
the tickets and sign the manifest. She looked up at the large sailing ship, its deck crowded with
young, filthy sailors, then she gazed at the vast, gray Irish Sea, and felt an overwhelming wave of
fear hit her once more. She wanted to stay where they were, give their farm another try next year,
but William insisted a better life awaited them in just a few weeks time. Or months. He had never
given her a direct answer as to how long it actually took to sail to America, and she had given up
pressing the matter. She gently placed her hand atop her belly. Their lives would soon be changing
again anyway, with the baby coming. She decided having a baby born on American soil, their new
child a real American, was a nice thought, and she fixated on that and tried not to look at the
intimidating ship.
" I'm back, darling," William called as he approached her, their son on his hip and tickets in his hand.
"Can you hold Will for a minute?"
She nodded tiredly and reached her arms up to settle the three-year-old in her lap. "Did you help
Papa get the tickets?" she asked, stroking his soft brown hair.
He nodded and sucked on his fingers. "Mama, hungry."
"Darling, don't suck on your hands, love. They're dirty," she scolded gently, pulling his fingers from
his mouth.
" We'll be eating better than the King once we get to America," William said as he examined their
tickets.
" He's hungry, William," Katherine said. "We've got to get him something to eat."
" He's going to have to eat when we get on the ship. I spent the last of it on these tickets. We need
everything else to buy our land."
" I suppose we have no choice but to go now," she murmured.
He took the little boy from her and helped her to her feet. "Get up, darling. Are you doing all right?
The line's moving."
" What do they have to eat on ships?" she asked hesitantly.
He picked up their suitcase. "I don't know. I don't expect it would be any different than what we
have to eat here."
" The baby's kicking me. I believe he means to tell me he doesn't want to go," she remarked.
" Well, his mother's going, so I suppose that means he's got to go, too," he replied, gently putting
his arm around her.
" Will it be better in America, William?" she asked, looking up at him and searching his deep hazel
eyes. "Truly?"
He gave her brow a discreet kiss. "Katherine, we're going to start a whole new life there. We're
starting over. And I promise it's going to be better. I don't want to see England again. All I can say
to this place is fair thee well."
She glanced at the land one last time, then focused on the ship. "Fair thee well," she repeated
quietly.
William carried his young son up to the deck of the ship. The little boy was whimpering and restless
after spending most of the day in the dark gallows, and William wanted to try to give him a little
fresh air and sunshine, as well as give Katherine a break so she could get some rest.
The crew was bustling about the deck going about their daily routines. One man was climbing up
the mast to the lookout post, while others were pulling and tying a variety of ropes as they worked
the sails. Still others were mopping the deck and polishing the rails. Several other passengers were
walking the decks to get fresh air, or to do some laundry with a bucket and some lye soap, or to
just walk around and stretch their legs. One poor young man was retching over the side of the ship.
The rough weather and huge waves had not been kind to passengers prone to seasickness.
The three-year-old whined and rubbed his eyes with his fists. "Pa, too bwight, too bwight," he cried.
William tried to shield his eyes from the brightness of day. "Don't worry. Your eyes will adjust."
The child just whimpered some more and wiggled around. "I want Mama. I want Mama. Mama.
Mama."
"Mama needs a little quiet right now, wee one. Come look. Let's see if we see the mermaids. Come."
He carried him over to the rail and pointed at the dark, salty water. "There. Look just there." He
drew in his breath. "Oh, did you see her? You see the mermaid swimming past?"
Will hiccupped and searched the water. "Mew-maid?"
"Yes, there she is. Look!"
"Look!" the little boy cried, pointing at the water. He burst into a grin. "You see da mew-maid? I
see! Papa!"
William chuckled and patted his back. "Good lad."
A crew member suddenly rang the bell furiously and crewman began scrambling around the ship,
quickly taking down the sails. William noticed some ominous dark clouds up ahead and saw a bolt of
lightning strike several miles away.
"All passengers below deck!" a crew member shouted. "Storm's brewing! Take cover below!"
"Come on, Will. We have to go inside now," William said, rubbing his back as he headed for the
steep staircase at the bow of the ship.
"Stowm comin' den?" Will asked.
"Yes, a storm's coming then."
"Papa, the mew-maid be all wight in the storm?" he asked worriedly.
He kissed his head. "Yes, of course."
The stench below was much more noticeable after getting some fresh air for awhile. William nearly
cringed as he made his way through the crowded steerage to their little cot where Katherine was
dozing.
"William? What's the matter?" she whispered as she slowly sat up and clutched her belly.
"Looks like we could be in for a rather fierce storm," he said. "They want us to stay below.
"Mama!" Will cried, stretching his arms in her direction.
"Come here, darling," she said, settling him in her lap. "Come here. There, there."
Passengers were talking worriedly among themselves and they could hear the crew scampering
above deck to prepare. They closed the portholes and secured the hatch, enclosing the steerage in
near total darkness. A few women cried out fearfully and several children began weeping.
"William, what's happening?" Katherine asked nervously.
"I don't know, darling," he said, putting his arm around her tightly. "They're just buckling down the
ship I reckon."
In a matter of minutes the ship began lurching violently and waves began crashing hard onto the
deck. Salty, freezing cold water leaked between the floorboards and spilled down into steerage.
William scrambled to cover them with one of their blankets. "Here, darling. Here. Don't get wet."
Katherine clung to him like a frightened child, her eyes wide with fear. But she tried with all her
might not to let their little boy know anything was wrong. The little boy held onto her arm as tight
as he could and buried his face against her chest, quietly whimpering.
Suddenly the ship rode a very large wave and seemed nearly airborne for a moment. Passengers
screamed and several started praying. Finally the ship crashed back down into the water with a
thunderous splash.
"William!" Katherine cried in the darkness.
"I have you. It's all right," he said unsteadily. "Think about something else. Think about the
Christmas holiday in America, in our new home. How lovely that will be."
She sniffled and closed her eyes. "Lord, please just get us to America safely. See us through this
storm."
"There there," Katherine soothed. "There there." She sat beside Will and tenderly cleaned his
scraped knee with her handkerchief and a little brandy another Englishwoman had loaned them.
She and William had let the little boy wander a bit on the ship floor and stretch his legs, and not ten
minutes later he tripped over a latrine bucket someone had left out and landed hard on his knee. He
screamed and cried and ran back to his mother. Katherine felt terribly guilty about the whole affair,
but they couldn't keep Will cooped up on their cot the entire voyage either. Regardless, clearly the
ship was not safe for young children, and she really wished they had waited until the baby was born
and their children were much older before making such a dangerous voyage. If William had any
regrets, too, he wasn't showing it.
"He's fine," he said. "Don't worry, Kath. It's just a scrape."
Katherine tied the kerchief around the child's knee and then gave his knee a gentle kiss. "There,
that kiss can heal anything, aye?"
"Aye," Will choked, hugging her arm.
"You feel better now, darling?" she whispered, wrapping her arm around him and rocking him. "Yes,
you feel better."
"Feel better," he echoed tearfully.
Katherine guided him down to the cot and stroked his hair. "There, you rest. Close your eyes."
"It's suppertime," William said. "Let me bring him something to eat."
"Yes, I think that'll help," she replied.
William got up and went up on deck where a crew member from the kitchen was distributing rations
of salt bacon, peas and hard tack. Meanwhile Katherine stayed with Will and stroked his hair and
hummed to him to comfort him.
"You want a little sip of water, Will, my darling?" she asked. "Mama will get you some water."
He hiccupped. "Water."
"Stay here," she instructed. She hoisted herself up off the cot and supported her belly with one
hand as she made her way to the small bucket of fresh water in the corner of the hull.
"Where do ya think you're goin', lassie?" a man suddenly growled, grabbing her arm. His Scottish
accent was heavy and slurred and barely discernable.
Katherine screeched and tried to shake him off. Another man stood up to block her path. They were
both wearing traditional kilts and were very big and muscular.
"Why don't ya come join us t'night?" one of them asked. "Teach us how the English prefer it."
The other man reached up to stroke back her hair.
"Don't touch me," she said sternly. "Let me pass."
"How 'bout a kiss first?" one of them said with a laugh. "One kiss for a hardworking lad."
"No!" she cried. She glanced around desperately for help. None of the other passengers seemed to
notice the predicament she was in, or if they did, they didn't care.
"Come on. Come on, lassie. Back here," the other one said. He grabbed her arm and pulled.
"No! No!" Katherine cried.
He dragged her to a shadowy portion of the ship between two cots and grabbed at her dress
bodice.
Katherine slapped him fiercely. "No! William!"
"Lively one, this is!" the man replied, grabbing her wrists tightly. "Hold her down, Hamish."
"Let go of her!" William growled. He charged the two men and punched one of them hard in the
mouth.
He clutched his lip. "Hold on there, Englishman. Keep your britches on. Just wanted to pay our
respects to the lady."
"You stay away from her!" William grabbed Katherine and pulled her away. "Come on, darling. Let's
go."
Katherine put her arm around his waist. "Oh, William."
"Oh, Kath, I'm so sorry." He kissed her head. "Oh, darling."
"We'll be there soon, won't we, William?" she whispered.
"Yes, we'll be there soon," he vowed.
The ship was lurching uncomfortably as another storm raged outside. William gripped the post of
their nailed-down cot for balance and held Katherine's hair back with his other hand.
She was hunched over, holding a small basin beneath her chin and breathing deeply as she tried to
regain control of her queasy stomach. Mercifully, her frightening gagging finally seemed to be over,
at least for the night.
He leaned forward and gave her cheek a soft kiss. "Want to get under the covers now?"
She nodded and passed him the basin to take care of. He returned moments later as she was
pulling the covers up to her chin and cuddling against their sleeping little boy. He sat beside her and
stroked her hair soothingly.
Katherine had been terribly seasick since the day they departed, barely able to stomach more than
a few bites of her meals. William had taken to going to the kitchen quarters in the evening and
asking the cook for some broth. The cook was kind, giving him a spoon and a bowl with some broth
every night, and Katherine could usually manage to keep that down. Tonight, however, another
storm had sprung up, rocking the ship relentlessly. She soon lost the broth along with everything
else. He was worried about how spindly her arms and legs were becoming, and how thin her face
had grown, but more than that he was worried about her spirits. She was miserable, and he felt
helpless.
Gradually, he slipped off his shoes and reclined beside her, gathering her to his chest as a huge
bang of thunder sounded outside and a flash of lightening lit the steerage for a brief moment.
Amazingly, most of the passengers were sleeping through it. Those who were awake were seasick,
and he suspected listening to them all night certainly wasn't helping Katherine gain control of her
own stomach.
Sickness was going around, and half a dozen had succumbed to it already. The coughing was
endless. People seemed to cough until they couldn't cough anymore and finally died. However, little
Will remained as resilient as ever, William felt fine, and aside from her stomach, Katherine and the
baby seemed to be doing all right physically. At least she wasn't coughing.
" Katherine, you're trembling," he said, stroking her shaking back.
" It frightens me, the way this ship rocks," she whispered. "I think it's going to tip over."
" No, that's not possible," he said, kissing her hair reassuringly.
" How much longer, William?"
" Not much longer," he replied.
He should have known traveling in November the storms would be bad. He hadn't counted on
Katherine being this sick, however. He felt terrible watching her, and he worried constantly about
their unborn child, what effect its mother's ill health might have on it. He liked the nights, when he
could gather Katherine and Will in his arms and dream of better things to come.
" Where do you think we are?" she asked.
" Closer to America than England." He didn't know if that was true, but he said it anyway.
She awkwardly turned to her back so she could look at him. "Tell me about America again."
" Aye, America. America's where there's so much land they give it away for pennies. Everyone has as
much land as they want. And the soil, it's the richest soil you ever held between your hands. And it's
clean there, and warm, and it doesn't rain like it does at home. And there's lots of food. People are
fat there, they have so much food."
" Don't talk about food," she said. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he knew she was teasing.
He smiled softly. "Sorry."
She sighed. "I wish we had a lamp. I'd like to read."
" We only brought two books," he remarked.
" Still, I'd like to read Lord Byron. I don't notice all this rocking when I read his poems."
" It's lucky you can read at all. I've wondered about the children. I don't know about schools in
America," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know if they've had time to set them up."
" That's all right. I'll teach our children if there is no school. I want them to be able to read Byron,
too."
" We'll read in the morning," he told her. "Close your eyes. You need to sleep."
" You're worried," she said, gently taking his hand.
He sighed. She was good at making him be honest. "I just think perhaps we started out too late. I'd
just like to get there as soon as we can."
She wasn't quite sure when their baby would come and he certainly wasn't either, but she was
starting to look like she had just before Will was born, her clothes stretched to the limit and her
walk slow and awkward. The baby didn't seem to care his mother wasn't eating much. Her belly
kept right on getting bigger as he kept on growing inside her. William was beginning to worry it
might happen on the ship, but he would never dare trouble Katherine with that possibility. It would
only make her even more anxious. He wanted their baby born in America, where nothing could
happen to it, like it could in England or on the horrific ship that was taking them away from there.
" It is a bit cold, even for November," she admitted.
That wasn't what he meant, but he nodded in reply and drew her even closer. "Are you warm now?
"
" Oh, yes, I'm warm now. I don't like going out on deck with that wind, but the smell down here is
so hard to manage sometimes."
" You smell beautiful to me," he whispered lovingly.
She smiled shyly and squeezed his hand.
" Soon, Katherine," he went on. "We'll be there soon."
" Here you are, son," William whispered, sitting on the edge of their cot and holding out a small
teacup.
His little boy sat up in bed and took it from him, taking a small sip.
" Good? Nice and warm?" William asked.
" Good," the little boy said, running his hand across his pink lips.
" Under the covers with you," he instructed, taking the cup from him.
" Mama," he whimpered plaintively.
" Mama's all right," he said. "She'll be back to us soon, Will. Go to sleep."
He glanced across the room just as Katherine let loose a powerful growl. He seemed to be the only
one up and worried about her. Everyone else had gone about their normal routines and went to bed
when it got dark, as if nothing were happening.
That morning, Katherine had gotten up to use the little bucket tucked under their bed that was their
latrine, and just like that, her water had broken. Some of it went into the bucket and most of it
went on the floor. She burst into petrified tears and William had sprung out of bed, frantically
clutching her arm and holding out a towel while she stood there and sobbed.
He didn't know what to do until a curious girl no more than fifteen had happened to pass near them
and walked over. From there, word had quickly reached the rest of the ship that the young woman
with child needed help, and William had willingly handed Katherine over to the girl and two
Irishwomen who had come over and acted like they knew what they were doing. Another woman
had strung up some sheets in the corner of the hull, and from behind the sheets Katherine had been
carrying on all day long and now well into the evening.
He tucked Will under the covers and gave him a gentle kiss. Then, tentatively, he approached the
little corner of the ship, where Katherine's cries had suddenly died down to whimpers. She had done
that the whole time. She cried and screamed for minutes at a time, then would suddenly grow silent
for a long moment before starting up again with her screams. He didn't know what it all meant,
whether it was supposed to happen this way, and was so worried and confused he felt like crying,
and he hardly ever cried.
" Everything all right?" he called softly, nervously wringing his hands.
One of the Irishwomen pulled back the blanket, eyeing him angrily. "What're ya doin' here? Git back
away!"
He blinked a few times. "I…is she all right? Why's it taking so long?" He tried to remember how
long it took her with Will, but couldn't. It must have been at least a few hours. He didn't know. He
had gone into town with his brother James and his cousin Milton, became sufficiently intoxicated at
the pub, and when he sobered up and came back the midwife presented him with Will.
" Of course she be a'right. It takes time is all," the woman said impatiently. "Git back away."
" Yes, ma'am," he murmured, stepping back and returning to the cot.
Katherine focused all her strength into bearing down, pulling back her legs for leverage and holding
her breath.
"Harder," one of the Irishwomen encouraged. "Harder, child."
"I can't any harder!" she protested. She fell back against her pillow and gasped for air. "I'm sorry
I'm doing this so wrong."
"You're doin' nothin' wrong, child. It's a stubborn one is all," the women said as she bathed her face
with a cloth.
Both the women were midwives in their hometowns in Ireland, they had told Katherine, with a
wealth of experience between them. When she had first gone into labor, she had prayed with all her
might that somehow God would see her through it. And then just like that the Irishwomen had
appeared, like two angels out of the darkness who were going to help her bring her second child
into the world without event. As arduous as the labor was turning out to be, she felt safe with them
beside her.
"Please don't touch me there," she suddenly cried. "No, that's painful."
"We have to, dearie. Let's see where this wee little one be now," the older of the two women said
as she examined Katherine's progress with her skilled hands. "Katherine, child, we've got to git it
born now, a'right? It doesn't prefer to be inside any longer."
"I think he must be big," Katherine muttered. "My other son was big, too."
"Oh, ye be havin' a bo' now, are ye?" she asked wryly.
She nodded. "It's what William wants. Sons. We're going to have a farm in America. I promised him
sons for the farm."
"Good. Let's see if ye can make good on that."
"Pressure. On her womb," the other woman suggested.
"Aye, do it," she replied.
The women laid her arms across the top of Katherine's belly and pushed downward. Katherine
screeched and writhed, grabbing her arm. It felt like all of a hundred pounds of bricks and she was
suddenly very angry and all the more determined to get her child born so it would be over with.
"It's not pleasant, lassie. It won't be long now," she vowed, pressing down all the harder
"Should I bear down? What should I do?" Katherine blurted frantically.
"Yes, yes, bear down. All your might, all your might," the older women instructed. "Let's get him
'ere. Quickly now, child. We must get him 'ere quickly."
William sat beside Will and absently stroked the little boy's hair as he slept. He couldn't lie down
himself and certainly couldn't sleep. Not with Katherine so miserable. He winced at every cry she
made and listened anxiously when she stopped crying. Occasionally, Katherine would cry out his
name, but the Irishwomen wouldn't let him come near, and he had to sit where he was, helpless to
do anything for her.
Finally, as dawn was breaking and the other passengers were gradually rousing, Katherine's crying
stopped and didn't start up again.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, William got up and approached the sheets.
Katherine looked up in disbelief as the older midwife held her glistening new baby by its ankles and
slapped its bottom.
"What are you doing? You're hurting it," Katherine said desperately, her brow wrinkled. The baby let
out a big cry and Katherine burst into a smile. "Oh, praise the Lord," she murmured. "Oh, sweet
baby." She watched tearfully as the midwife tied off the cord and cut it. "Oh, look. You're a boy.
You're a boy."
"Fine baby bo'," the midwife said. "Keep 'im warm, child. It's very drafty in 'ere. Keep 'im to your
breast." She laid the baby across Katherine's chest and then covered him with a quilt.
"Oh, I can't believe you were just inside me," Katherine whispered, weakly smoothing the new
baby's soft light hair. "Oh, you are big. I knew you were."
"A good size he is," the younger midwife remarked. "Good girl. A lesser woman couldn't 'ave done
that."
"I just had a baby. I just had a boy," Katherine said in disbelief. "Oh, another boy. It's another boy."
"Your husband will be most proud," she replied.
"Am I the first woman to bring forth a child on a ship?" she asked.
"Oh, no, lassie. I'm sure that's not so," the older women said.
"Oh." Katherine gave the baby a soft kiss. "I'm sorry. You were supposed to be an American. I don't
know what you are now. I'm afraid you're not anything more than just half American." She grimaced
as both midwives moved down between her legs to examine her. She had torn, and quite badly, she
suspected. She had felt the baby's head nearly splitting her in two when it came out. But however
bad the injury was the midwives were doing their best to pretend everything was fine.
One of the midwives raised a bloody hand up to massage her belly while the other discreetly
crossed herself, and Katherine suddenly felt very weak and nauseous.
"I can't hold him. I can't hold him," she spoke up hoarsely. "Please, take him."
The younger midwife picked the baby up and cradled him warmly. "There, there, boy-o."
" Everything be all right?" William suddenly asked from behind the sheets. "Katherine? Kath?"
After a long moment, the Irishwoman emerged from the sheets, a bundle of blankets in her arms.
William got a quick glimpse at Katherine, and swallowed hard. She was under the covers, head tilted
to one side and eyes closed. He had never seen her look so pale. He thought her lips even looked
blue. The other Irishwoman was holding a towel between Katherine's legs and looking worried.
" He's a bi' boy. A fine boy. Strong," the woman with the blankets said as she approached him.
William glanced at the baby. He was pink and plump beneath the blankets, and had a small amount
of fluffy light hair. He let out the tiniest cry, scrunching up one fist.
" Lad, ye know how t' hold 'im?"
" I don't know. I think so," he said nervously.
" Then hold 'im. I'm needed in there." She laid the bundle in his arms and disappeared behind the
sheets.
William stood silently, gazing at the baby for a long moment. He looked a lot like Will when he was
born. He didn't know what to make of him. He just kept hoping he wouldn't cry until Katherine was
awake and doing better and could tend to him. He wouldn't know what to do if he cried.
" So you're a boy after all. Your mother was right," he whispered at last. "That will be good, when
we get to America. You can help me. We'll work the farm, you and your big brother and me. We're
going to have lots of land there. In America they give away land for nothing."
He carefully crossed the room to the hatch, letting some of the morning sun warm the new infant's
face. He was a cute little thing, William was proud to admit. He had hair like Katherine's, ears like
hers, too, he thought, but he decided the infant had his nose and chin.
Suddenly, the little boy sniveled and opened his mouth wide, letting out a decisive cry.
William drew him back from the window and cuddled him lovingly. "Oh, don't cry. We'll be there
soon. We're going to be there soon."
" Well, I see you've done a'right with him," the Irishwoman said as she approached William, drying
her hands with a towel.
William was sitting on the bed, Will beside him. Will was eyeing his new sibling uncertainly, blue
eyes wide as he watched it whimper and move its fists.
"Baby," Will said.
" You're a bi' brother," the Irishwoman said, tapping Will's nose. "What d' ya think of that, wee lad?"
" He's pwetty little," Will remarked quietly.
" Oh, they tend to be," she replied.
He pointed his finger at the baby's wispy hair. "Baby. We keep him, Pa? We take him to Mer-ca?"
William chuckled softly. "Of course he's coming to America. That's your little brother, Will."
"Oh. He's mine," he replied. "Will's baby."
William chuckled and kissed the three-year-old's head. "Aye. He's all of ours."
" She be wantin' to see 'im now," the Irishwoman said. "An' you."
He stood up eagerly. "Stay here on the bed, Will, all right? I'll be back."
" All wight, Pa," he whispered.
He carefully carried the infant across the hull to the sheets and the Irishwoman pulled them back
for him, finally letting him go inside.
" Katherine?"
She was under several blankets, resting quietly. A bit of the color had returned to her face, but she
still looked frighteningly weak.
She gradually opened her eyes. "William? Is that the baby you're holding?"
He wasn't sure what else he would be holding. "Yes, this be him. It's a boy. Want to hold him?" He
crouched beside the bed.
" I can't," she whispered. "Put him up next to my face, so I can feel him."
He tentatively shifted the baby up to press his cheek to hers. "Here you are. You feel him?"
" Yes, that's perfect," she murmured. She puckered her lips over so slightly, pressing them to the
baby's, then closed her eyes and rested.
He tenderly smoothed her hair from her forehead. "It's a boy, Kath. You gave us another son.
You're wonderful. Another boy. It's a boy."
She was so tired she could barely manage a soft little smile at his excitement.
" That was hard, wasn't it?" he said, caressing her cheek.
" I'm sorry I took so long. You must have been fretting."
He shifted closer to her, eyes welling with tears. "I'm just glad you're fine. And him."
" He's fine. As for me I can't even move, I'm so tired. I've never been so tired," she said.
" You rest," he instructed, stroking her hair. "You'll be up and about soon. Katherine, we never
talked about names. I didn't think he'd come just yet. We've already used my name on Will. Want
me to look through the Bible? There's names to be had in there. John, or David perhaps?
Katherine?"
" Let's call him Byron then."
He raised his eyebrows. "Byron? Wherever did you ….. oh, Lord Byron?"
" That's all I've read as I've been carrying him. He liked hearing the poems. He was always kicking
me as I read. I fancy the name, don't you?"
He hesitated. He wasn't sure he did, it had a funny sound to it, but Katherine was so taken with the
name, and she was so beautiful, curled up with their infant. He decided that after going through all
she had to bring the poor thing into the world, she could name him whatever she liked. "Byron
Sully. Yes. I, uh, I fancy it. Anything you want, darling," he said. Although he wasn't sure their new
son would like it as he grew older.
She pressed a kiss to the baby's cheek. "Oh, William. Could he be any more perfect?"
He chuckled softly. "You're not even looking at him."
" I know. I'm too tired to open my eyes. But I can tell."
" Well, I believe he is perfect." He leaned forward and gave her lips a soft kiss. "Well done, Mrs.
Sully. Well done."
Sully opened the door to the recovery room and walked quietly inside. Michaela was dozing in a
chair beside the bed, Byron's hand clasped in hers as he slept soundly. He was relieved the little boy
had finally been able to relax and settle down. At least when he was sleeping he wouldn't be feeling
any pain.
He pulled a chair beside Michaela and she stirred, blinking up at him.
"What time is it?" she asked hoarsely.
"Must be about five. Sun's just comin' up," he said. "How is he?"
"Better. He's been asleep awhile. Where's William?"
"Fell asleep on the cot downstairs. Thought I'd let him get some rest."
She rested her hand in his lap and held his as they both watched Byron a long moment. Finally Sully
rested his elbows on his knees and stared forward pensively.
"It was called the Brig Emilie," he murmured.
"What?" she murmured, glancing at him curiously.
"The ship I was born on. It was called the Brig Emilie."
"Oh, Sully. William told you?" she asked.
"Yeah. He remembers. Says I was born about five days before they docked in New York. Ship was
almost two weeks late, held up by a couple storms. Hadn't been for those storms I woulda been
born on American soil."
"Oh, Sully," she murmured.
"I wanted to ask him about it. I wanted to find out what he knew."
"I think that's wonderful you talked about this," she said reassuringly. "Our past, it's who we are.
It's important to know where we came from."
"I think he really loved my ma. At least at first," he said quietly. "They tried to make it in England,
but their crops were ruined three years in a row. He heard about a land sale in New York and
decided to bring her and my brother out here."
"I can't imagine your mother, how young she was to leave everything behind. And then to have to
give birth on that long voyage. She must have had so much courage."
"Yeah. Sounds like it." He sighed. "I know I don't like to talk about her much. It ain't cause I didn't
love her."
"Of course you did. It was very painful the way things turned out. If you didn't love her you
wouldn't have gone through such heartache."
"Michaela, I only remember her as a child remembers. Now that I'm a man, hearin' about what she
was like, how brave she was, what she sacrificed. She never told me those things. She never talked
about herself. It was always about me and my brother. That's just how she was, selfless. Now I
think I never really knew her at all."
She rubbed his arm. "Perhaps hearing her story will help you find peace. Will give you closure about
everything."
He nodded ever so slightly and put his arm around her, drawing her close as they continued to
watch their little boy sleep.
to be continued...
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Blood Ties
BeckyH
Author of 7 Stories
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22.Chapter
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Chapter Twenty-two
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"No fever. That's a good sign," Andrew remarked as he felt Byron's forehead.
Michaela fed the weak little boy another spoonful of broth. "Appetite's improving, too," she
remarked. "How does your leg feel, sweetheart? Better?"
He managed a nod and took another sip of broth.
"Thought ya might be up to a few visitors," Sully said quietly.
Michaela glanced at the doorway where Brian and the other children were lingering eagerly.
"What do you think?" Michaela asked. "Do you want some visitors? Do you want to sit up?"
"Here, we'll help you sit up, Byron," Andrew offered, grasping his arm.
"No. Lie down," he protested weakly.
Michaela smoothed his hair. "All right. You don't have to sit up if you don't want to."
"Byron," Katie choked as she stepped into the room. She walked to his bed and grabbed his hand.
"Byron, I was so scared."
Byron looked at his siblings with relief but was too tired to show much emotion.
"Here, Byron. I brought your baseball glove," Red Eagle said, tenderly laying the worn leather glove
beside him.
Byron clutched it weakly with one hand as Michaela fed him a little more broth.
"You're famous," Red Eagle murmured. "Miss Dorothy wrote a story about you in the paper. About
how Gran'pa fought off the bear."
He blinked tiredly and then closed his eyes.
"You just keep gettin' better," Brian spoke up, stepping forward him and clutching his arm. "I need
ya to carry the ring at my weddin'."
Michaela eyed him curiously. "Your wedding? I thought it was … "
He smiled. "Not anymore. We worked things out."
She smiled back. "Oh, Brian. That's good news. You hear that, sweetheart? Your brother's getting
married and he needs a ring bearer. You have to get better so you can help him out."
"I like Sarah," he whispered.
Brian smiled softly and patted his hand. "I like her, too."
"Want some candy from Mr. Bray's?" Katie spoke up. "Or a toy? Byron? You want some gumdrops?"
Byron was so exhausted he couldn't speak anymore. He just closed his eyes and allowed Michaela to
feed him the broth.
"What's wrong? Why won't he talk?" Katie asked, glancing at Michaela worriedly.
"It's all right, sweetheart. He's just very sleepy right now. He'll want to talk more when he gets his
strength back."
Sully stepped forward and drew Katie against him. "Don't worry, sweet girl. He just needs to know
we're here right now."
"I'm here, Byron," she whispered. "We're here."
"We're all here," Michaela added, smoothing his hair. "You just rest."
Michaela took the tea kettle off her stove and poured another cup of willow bark tea for Byron.
Mercifully he was resting very peacefully, although she wanted to be right there ready with more
medicine for him when he woke up.
Someone rang the bell as Michaela put the teakettle back. "Come in," she called.
Teresa opened the door and stepped inside. She looked even more solemn than usual and there
was an intense worry in her eyes Michaela had never seen before.
"Oh, Mrs. Slicker," Michaela murmured with surprise. She added a few spoonfuls of honey to the
cup to try to sweeten the tea's bitter taste and make it easier for Byron to get down.
"I apologize for disturbing you."
"No, not at all."
"Byron. Is he all right?" she asked hoarsely. "How is he?"
She sighed. "It's been a rough few days. But he's not feeling as much pain anymore."
"His leg. Will he keep his leg?" she whispered forlornly.
"I think so. I'm watching him carefully for signs of infection. So far he's healing well."
Teresa held out a large, colorful blue card. "The class made this for him. Can he have visitors?"
"I'm afraid not just yet," Michaela said. "But perhaps in a day or two? But, I could give him the card
if you'd like. It's lovely."
"Oh. Yes." Teresa stepped toward her and handed her the card. "Dr. Quinn, I've been thinking. If …
when he gets better and can return to school, I want to advance him with the other students. He
can move on to the third grade."
"What do you mean? But I thought we already decided he would repeat second grade."
"That is true. But I could work with him separately. I could tutor him. Perhaps he could stay after
school two or three days a week and study with me. I'll do my best to make sure he gets through."
Michaela put the teacup on her desk. "Mrs. Slicker, thank you for that. But Sully and I talked about
this at length. I know I wasn't exactly receptive to holding him back at first, but I've come to believe
that you were right, that repeating second grade is the best thing for him. We know there's going to
be drawbacks. But Sully and I at least think we should try this for awhile."
"Oh. If you're certain."
"Yes, we've made the decision. But, about the tutoring? Do you think you still might be able to help
him a little after school from time to time? I know how much he loves you. He works so well with
you."
She smiled softly. "Yes of course. We'll start as soon as he comes back to school." She paused a
long moment. "And, he should sit with his brother. They work very well together. I'll move his seat
back to where he was."
Michaela swallowed hard. She and Teresa had often butted heads, and it seemed it was very rare
that they ever agreed on anything. Michaela had always felt that Teresa was silently judging her,
and the teacher had certainly made it quite clear she didn't agree with Michaela's decision to
continue working after having children. But despite their differences, Michaela knew deep down that
the town had done a great service for the children when they hired her as teacher, and she was
glad she had stayed on for so long.
"I know I probably haven't told you as much as I should how much I appreciate you," Michaela said
softly. "Sully and I both. The children are so happy at school. Even Byron. It's not a place they ever
don't want to go to. I know that has to do largely with you. Thank you."
"Well, your children make it easy for me, Dr. Quinn. It is a pleasure to have them in my class," she
said evenly. She headed for the door, then turned around. "Please let me know when he may see
visitors. I would like to see him."
"I will," Michaela replied.
"In the meantime, I will keep praying."
Michaela nodded tearfully. "Thank you."
Byron clutched William's arm and gazed at the book in his lap.
"'It's just the life for me,' said Tom," William read as he turned a page. "'You don't have to get up,
mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a
pirate don't have to do anything, Joe."
"I wanna be a pirate," Byron spoke up softly.
William smiled at him. "So did I when I was your age."
Michaela entered the room with a small tray of medical supplies and felt Byron's forehead.
"What are you reading?" Michaela asked.
"Tom Sawyer. We found it on your bookshelf," William explained.
"It's a really good book, Mama," Byron remarked. "You should read it."
"I have," she replied as she placed the tray at the end of the bed and turned down the covers.
"You have? What happens?" Byron asked.
"I'm not going to tell you," she replied wryly.
"Aww," he protested.
"He's looking stronger," William remarked.
She nodded and patted the little boy's arm. "It's time to change your bandages, sweetheart."
"No," Byron whimpered. "No."
"William, you …. you might want to wait outside," Michaela said.
"No, I'll stay," he replied. "Don't you worry, Byron. I'll stay with you, all right?"
"I'll try to be gentle," Michaela murmured as she cut down the length of the bandages and removed
them, exposing his wound to air.
"Hurts," Byron said hoarsely, glancing down.
"Don't look at it, sweetheart," Michaela said. "Don't look."
"Shh, don't look," William soothed. "Close your eyes, son. Don't look."
Michaela examined the stitches carefully and determined they were taking well and then began
gently patting down the wound with a cloth and some carbolic acid.
"No! It hurts, it hurts," Byron cried.
"I'm almost done. We're almost done," she said helplessly.
"Mama, please don't do that anymore. It hurts so bad."
"Do you want some more morphine? That'll help it not hurt so much."
"No," he bemoaned. "No more shots!"
"Sweetheart, you need to have the shot or it's going to keep hurting, do you understand? Let me
get you some morphine."
Byron suddenly began crying. "I don't want anymore shots. I don't want you touching my leg. I
wanna go home. Please, I wanna go home."
William glanced at Michaela. She was struggling with all her might to be brave and keep it together
while she finished tending to the little boy's injuries. He smoothed back Byron's hair and gave his
forehead a soft kiss. "Byron, son, close your eyes. Close your eyes."
Byron reluctantly closed his eyes and William smoothed away some of his tears. "Now think of your
most favorite thing in the world. What's that?"
"Baseball," Byron choked.
"Baseball. Yes. Imagine you're stepping up to the plate and hitting that ball all the way out of the
meadow. Can you see that?"
Byron hiccupped and got control of his tears. "Yeah. I hit a home run."
"Of course you did. You're one fine baseball player."
"See if you can get him to drink this," Michaela whispered as she handed William a glass filled a few
inches with a cloudy liquid.
"What is it?" he asked, raising Byron's head off the pillow.
"It's morphine in powder form. It's not quite as effective as an injection, but at least it's something."
"Drink this. Drink it down, son," he instructed, guiding some of the liquid into the child's mouth.
"Very good. Well done."
"Byron, this is going to help you relax and take a nice nap, all right?" Michaela whispered, stooping
and kissing his cheek. "Close your eyes. I love you. Sleep, my darling."
She straightened and William got up, putting his arm around her shoulders reassuringly. "He is one
tough young man, Michaela. He's going to make it through this just fine. He is so strong."
"He gets that from your side of the family," she replied tearfully.
"Oh, no, that's from his mother, too," he said.
"It's just so hard to see him in pain," she choked. "I'm hurting him."
"No, you're helping him. You're helping him," he replied reassuringly. "Here, you sit down. You must
be exhausted. Rest awhile with him while he sleeps."
He guided her to his chair and she leaned forward and wrapped her arm lovingly around Byron and
crouched down to kiss the back of his hand.
"Thank you, William," she whispered.
"Shh, rest," he replied, giving her back a gentle pat.
As the sun set Michaela cantered up to Brian's new homestead, relieved to find him standing in front
of his workbench sawing a board.
He glanced up and took a swig from his canteen. "Hey, Ma. Byron doin' all right?" he called.
"Yes, he's fine. He's resting. Sully and William are with him."
He put aside his canteen. "Good."
"I thought you were going to join us in town for supper. Are you all right?" she asked as she
dismounted and tethered the reins to a nearby tree branch.
"Sorry, Ma. I lost track of time," he replied. He was sweaty from work and looked very tired.
"Are you hungry? I brought you some biscuits."
"No thanks. That's all right."
She surveyed his homestead in admiration. It was simple but beautiful, with two large front windows
and flowerboxes, and a large front porch.
"It's really coming along," she said. "It's going to be wonderful when it's finished."
He kept sawing, intently focused on his work.
"Brian, is something wrong?"
He straightened and stopped working a moment. He had always been able to talk to his mother
about anything on his mind, and even now that he was a grown man he felt safe to tell her
anything. "Got a letter from Ethan today," he murmured. "It's there. You can read it."
Michaela cleared her throat and found the piece of paper on his bench. "Dear Brian," she read aloud
quietly. "I regret to inform you circumstances have changed and I must travel back East on very
important business pertaining to my shipping fleet throughout the summer. Thus I will be unable to
attend your wedding. Congratulations, may you find every happiness together. Your father, Ethan
Cooper."
Michaela watched him as he sawed all the harder at the board. She had always tried very hard not
to insult Brian's father in front of him, to be as diplomatic as possible and support him in
maintaining a relationship with him, however small. But privately she deeply resented Ethan for
manipulating Brian the way he did, constantly filling him with false promises and then backing out.
Brian was a kind-hearted young man and a wonderful son whom she and Sully were so deeply
proud of. Ethan had no idea what he had given up.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, not knowing what else to say.
"It's all right. Guess I never really believed he would come anyway. Guess Sarah was right. He don't
care."
"It sounds like business is booming. He sounds very busy."
He finished sawing the board and tossed it aside. "Yep."
"It's getting late. What do you say you ride back to the clinic with me and I heat you up some
leftover stew and make a fresh pot of coffee? Hm? I know you love my coffee."
He smiled softly and took off his work gloves. "All right. Let's head out."
"I regret to inform you?" Michaela said impatiently as she paced in front of the clinic stove. "It
sounds like he's turning down a business proposition rather than writing to his own son."
"The man's insensitive, always has been," Elizabeth remarked from the desk chair where she was
holding the baby. "This is nothing new."
"Insensitive? That's putting it mildly, Mother. I can't believe he's not coming. I can't believe he
would do this to Brian."
"Brian's gonna have to learn eventually no matter how hard he tries, Ethan's always gonna be
Ethan," Sully remarked, leaning against her examination table. "He's never gonna change."
"I feel so terrible about this," she said, shaking her head. "On the one hand I think he should try to
keep contact with him. He is his real father. On the other hand, this relationship has been nothing
but painful for Brian lately."
"Maybe it's time he cut ties," Sully replied. "But that's Brian's decision."
"Sometime I wish he would," she murmured.
"Don't worry, Michaela. We'll give him a nice wedding without Ethan," Elizabeth said. "He won't even
notice his absence. He'll have the family he has now supporting him. We don't need Ethan around."
"That's right," Sully said. "We're his family now. We're all he needs."
"Sully, his face today," she murmured. "I could barely look at him he looked so devastated. He'd
been cast aside, rejected for bigger and better things."
He approached her and caressed his shoulder. "He'll get through it. He's gonna be all right."
She sighed and put her arm around his waist, holding him close as he rubbed her back reassuringly.
Sully wrapped his arm firmly around Byron's waist and helped him stand up. Byron whimpered and
glanced up at his mother warily.
"You're doing fine, sweetheart. Just don't put weight on it. Just balance on your other leg," Michaela
instructed as she placed a small crutch beneath his arm. "Lean on this."
"This is tough," he whispered.
"Does it hurt?" Sully asked.
"A little," he admitted.
"You're doing wonderful. You're recovering so quickly," Michaela said, caressing his cheek. "You'll be
better in no time."
"How long until I can play baseball?" he asked breathlessly.
"Not long," Michaela said, giving his forehead a kiss. "Not long at all the way you're going."
Elizabeth walked into the room leaning on her cane. "Michaela, Sully, we have to get to the train
station right away." She stopped short. "Oh, look at him!" she exclaimed.
"Hey, Gran'ma," Byron replied tiredly.
She walked over to him and hugged him. "How do you feel, dear?"
"I got a cane just like you, Gran'ma," he replied with a soft smile.
She held him close. "Oh, yes you do!" She glanced at Sully. "I need you at the train station right
away."
"Why?" Sully asked.
"Brian's wedding present. It's arriving right now!"
"Can I come, too?" Byron asked. "Please, Mama? I wanna see the present."
Michaela smoothed his hair. "I think you could. If we take it slow."
"What exactly ya get him?" Sully asked.
"You'll see," Elizabeth replied wryly.
"It's supposed to be on this train," Elizabeth said as Sully carried Byron across the tracks and
Michaela followed with the baby.
Several railroad workers were gathered in the luggage car, setting up a ramp and several ropes to
lower down a very large wooden crate.
"There it is! That must be it!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Oh, wonderful."
Sully cocked his head to the side and looked at the lettering on the crate. "Steinway and Sons.
Queens County, New York."
"New York?" Michaela echoed in disbelief.
They all watched as the men slowly heaved the crate down the ramp to the ground.
"What is it?" Sully asked. "Looks about as heavy as a piano."
"It is a piano," Elizabeth replied.
He looked at her. "Elizabeth, you shipped a piano all the way out to Colorado Springs? How much
did that cost ya to do that?"
"None of your business." She opened her purse and handed a dollar bill to one of the workers.
"Well done. Thank you."
"Sure, ma'am, sure," one of them muttered as he hobbled away clutching his back.
Sully stared at the large box. "Why didn't ya just order one from Denver? Piano's a piano."
"No it's not. Steinway makes the best pianos in the world, everyone knows that. I'm not going to
give my grandson and his new wife just any old piano. They should have the best. It's a beautiful
upright made of cherry wood I selected myself from their catalogue."
"Jiminy, look at that," Kirk remarked with a whistle as he walked down the steps. "What's that,
Sully, a piano?"
Loren took a few letters from Horace and wandered over to watch as he sorted through his mail.
"How'd ya guess?" Sully murmured.
"Morning, Kirk," Michaela said.
"Mornin', Dr. Mike," he said, putting his arm around her with a smile. "How's everybody?"
"We're fine. Where's Faye? I haven't seen her in town in a few days."
"Faye? Oh, she's been feelin' poorly lately. Some kind of catarrh."
"Oh, that's too bad. Do you want me to ride out and check on her?"
"Nah, no need for that. Sure it'll pass real soon."
"Well, let me know if it doesn't improve."
"I will."
"How exactly ya plan on gettin' this piano to Brian's place?" Sully asked skeptically.
Elizabeth smiled up at him sweetly.
Sully shook his head. "Oh, no. Elizabeth, I got work to do, haulin' a piano out there's gonna take all
mornin'."
"Well, we can't just leave it sitting here," she protested.
"Who's gonna be able to lift it even if they wanted to steal it?" he replied.
Michaela giggled and rubbed Sully's arm. "Think of it as helping Brian. This is his wedding present."
"Well, I can't do this all on my own," Sully replied. He glanced at Loren.
Loren shook his head as he opened another letter. "Don't look at me. Remember what happened
last time I lifted a piano?"
"I could help ya, Sully," Kirk offered. "I'll just round up some men. We'll get the job done in two
shakes of a lamb's tail."
"Oh, you're just a dear, young man. Thank you," Elizabeth said.
"Sure, ma'am," he replied as he took off down the street.
"Sully, I wish you were more like Kirk. Positive. Accommodating," Elizabeth remarked.
"Accommodatin'," he muttered. He carefully put Byron on his feet. "All right, let me get some rope."
He squeezed Michaela's shoulder. "Looks like I'm gonna be awhile. See ya later?"
She smiled. "See you later."
Sully walked gingerly into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Michaela was reading in bed
and Byron was cuddled up beside her, asleep in the middle of the bed, his bandaged leg propped up
on a pillow.
"What's wrong?" Michaela asked as he walked carefully to the vanity and slowly unbuttoned his
shirt.
"Think I strained my back liftin' that piano," he muttered.
"Oh, dear." She put her book aside and walked over to him, helping him off with his shirt. Then she
ran her hands down his back. "Where is it?
"Ahh," he murmured and she pressed her hand against his muscles. "Yeah, that's it."
She carefully rubbed his muscles with her fingers. "Does this help?"
"Yeah, that's better."
"Well, it's going to be a busy next several days. I'm afraid this is just the beginning. I hope you
remembered my sisters arrive the day after tomorrow."
"How could I forget?" he muttered.
"Sully," she scolded. "It is a long trip. Give them a little credit."
"Just a card woulda been fine," he replied.
She pushed on his back and he winced. "Bite your tongue."
He chuckled softly and turned to face her, giving her a kiss. "I'm just foolin'. I'm glad they're comin'
out."
"Even Claudette?" she asked skeptically.
He hedged a bit. "She's growin' on me. A little."
She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "Can you believe it? Brian's getting married."
"Hard to believe," he replied.
She bit her lip thoughtfully. "He hasn't said anything more about Ethan to you, has he? I'm worried
about him. I think he's taking what happened very hard."
"He's been pretty quiet since he heard from him."
"I don't want this to put a damper on his special day."
"I know. I'll talk to him, see how he's doin'," Sully said.
"Oh, you will? Oh, good," she replied, hugging him again gratefully.
Sully cantered up to Brian's homestead late in the afternoon. Brian was out front unloading a few
essentials he had just picked up from the mercantile from the back of his wagon, including several
lanterns and kerosene, a washboard and a small wooden tub for doing laundry, and some more
lumber and thin rope to build a clothesline with.
"Need a hand?" Sully called as he dismounted.
"Sure, Pa. Thanks," Brian replied.
Sully grabbed the tub and Brian picked up the last few crates and they hauled them inside.
The interior of the modest homestead was fully decorated with furniture, a few paintings and a
crocheted sampler that said "Home Sweet Home." In the corner of the room was Elizabeth's
wedding gift of the Steinway piano, tied up firmly with a large canvas and rope not to be opened
until they were married.
"Looks good," Sully remarked. "Ya can be real proud of yourself."
Brian pulled out a few tin cups from one of the crates. "I just did the buildin'. Sarah's the one who
did most of the decoratin'."
"A woman's touch. Every house needs it."
"Yeah," he said with a smile.
"Ready for the big day?" Sully asked.
"I think so. We done just about everything on our list. All that's left is to hope for good weather for
the reception."
Sully folded his arms. "Your ma, she, uh, she told me about Ethan."
"Turns out somethin' came up," Brian said softly.
"You all right? Know that musta been hard to hear."
"I'm all right, Pa. I'm not stupid. I know Ethan don't have much interest in me. In any of us. He
don't wanna be in my life. He only writes me when he's got some big business deal he wants to
brag to everybody about. He never asks about me."
"Son-"
"No, it's all right. I had a lot of time to get used to how things are gonna be with him. And I'm all
right with it now. Guess I finally realized I can't keep holdin' my breath hopin' he'll change."
"Sure you're all right?" Sully asked, squeezing his shoulder.
Brian nodded resolutely. "Yeah, I'm sure." He breathed a sigh. "You're lucky."
"Lucky?"
"Your pa wants to be in your life. He cares about ya like I always wanted Ethan to care about me."
Sully was taken aback. He had never considered that William showing up in town had been lucky.
He always saw him as someone he wanted away from him and his family as soon as possible. But
when he thought about Ethan's rather cavalier attitude toward Brian, and in comparison how loving
and caring and considerate William was toward both Sully and the children, Sully saw him in a
slightly different light.
"I gotta go pick up Sarah. We got one last counseling session with the Reverend," Brian said,
heading toward the door and grabbing his hat off the rack. "See ya later, Pa. Thanks for the help."
"Yeah. Sure," Sully murmured.
Sully walked up to the boarding house where William was opening the door and carrying a trunk out
to the porch.
"William," he called.
William looked up and brightened.
"You ain't leavin', are ya?" Sully murmured.
William paused a long moment. "Well, this is Myra's trunk. I was just helping her bring it down. The
train leaves in an hour."
"You oughta stay on for Brian's weddin'. It's next week. I know how much he wants his gran'pa
there."
He nodded. "And I want to be there. I'd love to stay. And I want to be here for Byron as he
recovers."
"So does he," Sully said with a soft smile. He cleared his throat. "Michaela invited ya for supper,
right?"
"Yes. Yes she did."
"You're comin'?"
"I'll be there," he said.
"Good," Sully replied.
"I wish you could stay longer," Michaela said as she hugged Myra in front of the steaming outbound
train.
"So do we. And we just hate to leave when Byron's still at the clinic. But Samantha's gotta get back
to school."
"He'll be fine. Thanks to Sully and William," she said.
"Good luck with William," Myra added. "I'm glad he's gonna stay on here a little longer. I think he
should."
"I'm glad, too," Michaela replied. She turned around. Katie and Samantha were hugging each other
tearfully.
"Come on, Sam, sweetheart," Myra said. "Train's about to leave."
Horace gave Samantha one last hug and then gently clasped Myra's hand. "Did you really mean it?
About sendin' Sam out here next summer?"
"Course I mean it, Horace," she replied. "I'll write to you and we'll make plans."
"I can't wait, Papa," Samantha said.
"Neither can I, honey," he replied, tapping her nose lovingly.
Michaela joined Horace and held Katie's hand as they all waved to Myra and Samantha. The train
rolled out of the station, headed back to St. Louis without William on board.
Sully walked into the bank holding an envelope. Preston looked at him nervously from the counter,
as if worried he might attack him again.
"What can I do for you?" Preston asked coolly.
Sully slid the envelope across the counter. "I wanna sell ya these."
Preston opened the envelope, flipping through the papers. "Union Pacific Railroad stock? How did
you come to own this?"
"The railroad paid us in stock."
"I see. Well, I'm not interested."
"Why not?" Sully demanded.
He walked to his safe and turned the dial. "I put my hard-earned money in the railroad before and
it almost ruined me. It's far too risky of an investment. They'll be through the roof one day and
bottom out the next. Besides, I think the railroad is manipulating the market at the expense of
honest investors like myself. I want nothing to do with them."
"How am I gonna get rid of these?" Sully asked.
"I don't know. Go to Denver."
"Go to Denver," he muttered.
"Or perhaps telegraph the railroad, try to sell them back." He opened up the safe and took out a
few stacks of bills. "I can't help you, Sully. Now I'm afraid I have some business to attend to. Good
day."
Claudette turned over her steak with her knife and fork, grimacing in disgust. She and Rebecca were
seated in the dining car at a table for two as the train chugged across the vast Mississippi river.
"I said medium. Look at this. It's charred to a crisp!" Claudette bemoaned.
Rebecca glanced at her sister's plate. "Mine is just fine." She cut into it and took a bite.
"Good, I'm happy for you. Oh, this is just inedible." She waved her hand at a busboy. "Excuse me!
Excuse me, young man! Over here."
The busboy made his way over, carrying a few empty glasses. "Yes, ma'am?"
"My steak," she said, pushing it toward him.
"What's wrong?"
"What does it look like? It's practically hard as a brick. I ordered medium. Please send it back and
get me another cooked correctly."
He cleared his throat, then picked up her plate. "Yes, ma'am. So sorry."
Claudette took a sip of water with a flustered sigh. "We pay good money for first class tickets, I
would expect the food would be first class, too."
"Mine tastes quite good," Rebecca said as she continued to cut her meat.
"Yes, you told me," Claudette retorted. "Even Michaela's cooking is better than the slop on this
train."
Rebecca slowly lowered her knife and fork. "Claudette, speaking of Michaela."
"What about her?" Claudette replied disinterestedly as she buttered a roll daintily.
"Well, as I understand it, Mother said that last time you came for a visit, the two of you, well, you
and Michaela weren't exactly getting on swimmingly."
"That wasn't my fault," Claudette replied firmly. "Michaela started it."
"Well, regardless, I think it might serve everyone well if you just make an effort to be nice to her.
Sully, too. Behave yourself."
"Behave myself! I'm not five years old, Rebecca, for heaven's sake. And why does everyone pick on
me as if this is all my doing? Michaela and Sully are as much to blame as anyone."
"No, I'm not saying that. It's just, they have the new baby and their son's about to get married.
They don't need anything else to worry about. I'm only saying that all of us, we should all make an
effort to get along and help Brian's wedding to run as smooth as possible."
"Well, of course. Of course I want it to run smoothly."
"Then you will?"
"Will what?"
"Behave," Rebecca said.
Claudette rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'll behave, whatever that means. If it makes you happy."
Rebecca smiled at her. "Good, then it's going to be such a wonderful visit. I can't wait."
Michaela finished sponging down Byron's chest and then she patted it dry with a towel. Then Sully
helped him slip on his nightshift and button it up. He was lying on Michaela's side of the bed, a few
storybooks and some toys beside him. They were all grateful he was well enough to be home, but
he was going to need to stay in bed for at least a few more days.
"Is that better, sweetheart?" Michaela said, stooping and kissing his head. "Nice and clean?"
"Yeah," he whispered tiredly.
"How does your leg feel?"
He grimaced. "Kinda hurts."
"Achy hurt or sharp hurt?"
"Umm, achy."
"All right. I'll go downstairs and get you some medicine, all right?" She squeezed Sully's shoulder
and then headed into the hallway.
"Ya gotta get a good night sleep," Sully said. "Your aunties are comin' tomorrow mornin'."
"I like Aunt Claudie. I like the aunties," he whispered.
"Yeah, I know ya do," he said with a soft chuckle. He took a seat on the bed and placed his arm
underneath Byron's head. "Ya close your eyes, all right? Your pa's got ya."
"We're lucky Mama's a doctor, right, Papa?" he said. "She takes good care of me."
"Yeah, we're real lucky. She's a real good doctor."
"Was your mama a doctor, too?" he asked curiously.
Sully was a little taken off guard. The children so rarely inquired about his past. He sensed they had
learned not to ask, given how standoffish he had always been about it. But William showing up in
town had forced him to examine and talk about the events of his childhood more than he ever
would have imagined. And in a strange way, it was almost cathartic.
"No, she wasn't a doctor. Some mamas don't go to work. My mama stayed home with my brother
and me. But she worked real hard lookin' after the house and barn and the small farm we had."
"Oh. Was she pretty?"
He smiled softly. "Yeah, she was. Prettiest lady I ever met, next to your ma. She had real pretty
light hair, just like Katie's."
"How did she die?"
"Well, she … she drowned, son."
"How? She didn't know how to swim?"
He fought tears. "Nope. She didn't." Michaela appeared in the doorway, holding a basin with a bottle
of morphine, and lingered there, not wanted to interrupt their conversation.
"Were ya sad?"
Sully couldn't hold back tears any longer and one slipped down his cheek. "Yeah. It was a real sad
thing when she passed on."
Byron glanced at him worriedly. "Papa?"
"It's all right, son. I'm just still a little sad sometimes when I think about it. I just, I really missed her
for a long time."
"Oh. It's all right, Papa. You miss your mama." He wrapped his arm around him and snuggled up
close.
"Yeah," he whispered emotively. He kissed his head. "You know what makes me feel better? Seein'
how much you and your sisters are like her."
"I am?"
"Yep. You especially. It's like a part of her is still here."
Michaela quietly entered the room and put the basin on the night table.
Byron looked up at her. "Mama, Papa's mama died a real long time ago. She couldn't swim. It was
really sad."
Michaela put her arm around Sully reassuringly. "Yes, you're right, sweetheart. But talking about it,
sharing how we feel about it with others, that helps make it feel better."
"Yeah," he said, closing his eyes tiredly.
Michaela kissed Sully's forehead and stroked his hair. "You all right?"
He sniffled. "Yeah, I'm all right."
She kissed him reassuringly again. "I love you," she whispered.
He reached his hand up and clutched her arm. "Love ya, too."
to be continued...
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Chapter Twenty-three
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"There they are," Michaela said as she wheeled Elizabeth toward the passengers. Sully followed
behind them, carrying the baby.
"Mother! Michaela!" Rebecca called, waving at them and rushing forward, Claudette behind her.
Elizabeth held out her arms. "My girls!"
"Mother, you look wonderful! What a change!" Rebecca exclaimed, embracing her tightly.
"Thank you, dear. Claudette, I'm so thrilled you both could come. How was your trip?"
Claudette hugged her and kissed her cheek. "Excruciating. We were delayed hours in Nebraska or
Iowa or some such irrelevant state by some kind of fierce hail storm."
"Oh. Well, at least you made your connecting train," Michaela remarked.
"By mere minutes. Huffing and puffing all the way." She kissed her sister's cheek. "Michaela."
"It's good to see you again," she replied with a smile.
Rebecca hugged her. "We're thrilled to be here." She turned to Sully as he held out the baby for
them to see. Rebecca caressed the baby's rosy cheek. "Oh, Michaela! She is absolutely gorgeous!
Mother's right. She looks exactly like you at this age. Oh, little Eliza. It's Auntie Rebecca, yes."
"Did I really look just like her?" Michaela asked, stroking Eliza's hair proudly.
"Oh, yes," Claudette remarked, eyeing the baby critically. "Look, Rebecca. She has the Quinn
forehead. And she's obscenely chubby just like you were, Michaela. She's all our side of the family.
I'm sorry, Sully, she doesn't look a thing like you."
"That's all right, as long as her personality is more like my side," Sully replied.
Claudette eyed him irritably a moment and then chuckled. "Oh. Yes, quite."
"Chubby?" Michaela said incredulously. "I was obscenely chubby?"
Elizabeth averted her eyes diplomatically.
Sully smiled wryly at Michaela and then passed her the baby. "Go with Mama, Eliza girl. Let me help
your aunties get their luggage." He walked off toward the luggage car.
"I must say I do like her name," Claudette remarked. "Very fitting. Well done, Michaela. Vastly
better than the other children's names. Much more dignified, not so country bumpkin sounding."
"She's my little namesake," Elizabeth remarked proudly.
"Well, where's the groom and bride to be?" Rebecca asked. "Busy with the wedding plans I
presume."
"Yes, they're over at the church right now talking with the Reverend and finalizing everything,"
Michaela explained.
"And where's Byron?" Claudette asked. "He's still doing all right, isn't he?"
Michaela nodded. "He's fine. He's at the clinic resting. His grandfather's with him."
"Let's go over and see the poor dear right now," Claudette said resolutely.
"Yes, we want to see him first thing, Michaela," Rebecca added.
Sully nodded. "I'll load your luggage, drive ya over to the hotel after."
"Is um, is Preston … I mean, Mr. Lodge. He still owns it?" Claudette spoke up, clearing her throat.
"Yes, of course," Michaela said.
"Oh," Claudette remarked coolly. "Well, good."
"Let's see if he's awake," Michaela said as she opened the recovery room door.
Byron was in bed reading a storybook and William sat beside him in a chair.
Claudette took one look at his heavily bandaged leg and gasped dramatically. "Oh, poor baby!"
"Aunties!" Byron cried excitedly, putting his book down. William stood up and moved aside.
Claudette rushed to him and Rebecca followed behind.
"Oh, you poor, poor thing," Claudette bemoaned, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. "Oh! How
could this have happened?"
Michaela shared a surprised glance with Rebecca.
Byron hugged her tightly. "Auntie, I missed you. I missed you."
"How are you feeling, dear?" Rebecca asked, leaning down and giving him a hug.
"Hey, Auntie. Good."
"He's recovering very nicely," Michaela said, smoothing back his hair. "He can walk already, with the
help of a crutch."
"I hope they find and put down the horrible vicious beast that did this to him," Claudette announced
resolutely. "Oh, how dreadful!"
"No, don't kill her, don't kill her," Byron protested. "She had babies. She has to take care of them."
"Oh, dear," Claudette murmured. "Well, the important thing is you're all right."
Michaela clutched William's arm. "William, I'd like you to meet my sisters. Two of them at least."
Rebecca turned to him and beamed her usual friendly smile, shaking his hand. "Rebecca. So nice to
meet you."
"Rebecca," he replied shyly.
"And this is Claudette. This is William. This is Sully's father," Michaela said encouragingly.
Claudette eyed his worn shirt and trousers, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm, well, I see the family
resemblance," she remarked. She held out her hand. "Miss Claudette Q. Atkins of Beacon Hill."
He kissed her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Claudette Q. Atkins of Beacon Hill."
She removed her hand awkwardly. "Yes, well."
"Are you older or younger?" William asked curiously.
"Younger," Claudette remarked resolutely. "Rebecca's the old one."
Rebecca smiled wryly. "Claudette's one of the middle children."
"You mean the forgotten children," Claudette remarked dryly.
William laughed and put his arm around Byron. "Well, I personally like middle children. Just like this
one."
"Yeah," Byron remarked. "I'm in the middle, right, Mama?"
"Exactly in the middle," she replied with a smile.
"Well, dear, give your auntie another kiss and we must get to the hotel to freshen up," Claudette
remarked, bending down and kissing Byron's cheeks again. "We'll see you soon."
"All right. See you later, Auntie. Mr. Lodge is gonna be so happy you're here."
Claudette reddened and quickly averted her eyes.
"Almost as happy as this little boy," Michaela remarked, grasping Byron's hand lovingly.
Sully grabbed a large trunk out of the back of the wagon and headed up the porch stairs as a
bellhop helped Rebecca and Claudette down.
"Sully, what are you doing here?" Preston asked from the front desk.
"Ya didn't know? Michaela's sisters are in town for the weddin'. They're gonna need two rooms." He
put the trunk down on the floor.
"Claudette?" he blurted.
"Claudette," he said with amusement.
Preston put down his pen and tapped the bell on the desk fiercely. Two bellhops came scurrying
over.
"Go prepare the presidential suite immediately. Put out some flowers. Flowers and chocolates. And
champagne. Yes, champagne. And bathrobes for the hot springs."
"Yes, sir," they replied simultaneously.
Preston smoothed his hair and brushed off his vest frantically. Then he walked in front of his desk
and put his hands behind his back, smiling widely as the sisters entered the hotel. Sully headed back
outside to help the bellhops with the rest of the luggage.
"Welcome, ladies," Preston said, gazing into Claudette's eyes. "Welcome back to the Château and
Health Resort."
"Mr. Lodge," Claudette said, smiling softly at him.
He grasped her hand and kissed it. "Welcome. I'm having them prepare the same room you stayed
in last time. It'll just be a minute." He glanced at Rebecca. "And the adjoining room for you,
ma'am."
"Oh, good. It was a lovely suite," Claudette said.
"So, you're, you're here for the wedding?" he asked awkwardly. "I didn't realize."
"Well, he's too young, everyone thinks so," Claudette remarked, pulling off her gloves. "But he is our
nephew, and I suppose we ought to be here. Besides, it's a good chance to visit with Mother again."
"I hear his fiancée is just darling," Rebecca remarked. "Even Mother just raves about her."
"I presume you'll be dining with us tonight?" he asked. "We're serving filet mignon."
"Yes," Claudette said firmly.
"No, we're not. Claudette, Michaela's making a turkey tonight," Rebecca protested.
Claudette glanced at her with irritation. "Oh, yes. That's right. I forgot."
"Oh, well, another time," Preston said.
"If you don't mind we'd just like to freshen up here and then we'll be spending the evening at our
sister's," Rebecca said with a smile.
"Yes," he murmured with disappointment. "Well, let me just get you checked in."
Claudette sat in awkward silence with her tea, William beside her. Rebecca was busy looking
through Byron's tablet of drawings in front of the sitting room fireplace and was no help at all in
making conversation with the old man. Byron had his feet up on the settee and was covered in a
warm quilt.
"Well, you, uh, Mrs. Quinn says the family is from Ireland then," William finally said uncomfortably.
Claudette cleared her throat. "Yes. Don't the English hate the Irish?"
"I think it's the other way around," he replied with a soft smile.
"Well, the English are just jealous no doubt. After all, Ireland has more stable local governments,
better school systems and I daresay a lot better food. At least that's what my grandmother always
said."
"I like America," he replied. "This is my home now."
"You have a very nice name. I have a son named William," she said.
"You do now? Well, then. And is he at home?"
"Yes, he's studying at Harvard. Top of his class. Harvard, that's a university in Boston. The very best
university in all of the United States."
"I've heard of it once or twice," he replied wryly.
"The turkey needs another few minutes," Michaela said as she walked into the sitting room carrying
the baby over her shoulder. Elizabeth followed her and Red Eagle and Katie were right behind.
"Good, then we have time for presents!" Claudette announced.
"Presents?" Michaela echoed.
"Children, go open your auntie's trunk there," Claudette instructed.
"It was all her idea," Rebecca explained. "She sent Martha running all over town last week buying all
that nonsense."
Katie and Red Eagle scurried over to the trunk and lifted the lid, revealing a multitude of beautifully
wrapped packages.
"It's not nonsense, Rebecca," Claudette protested. "Aunties are supposed to shower their new nieces
with gifts, or didn't you know?"
"This can't be all for Eliza," Michaela protested, pulling out a few presents in disbelief. "Claudette,
you shouldn't have."
"Yes I should. Well, don't just stand there mouth agape like you're hoping to catch a fly. Open
them," Claudette ordered.
Michaela raised her eyebrows and handed a few of the presents to the children. "Help Mama see
what's inside."
They all tore into the presents, revealing baby outfit after baby outfit from Boston's finest specialty
clothing shops, lots of bonnets and booties, and a rattle, a rag doll and a set of colorful rubber rings
that the baby could teeth on when she got a little older.
"Oh, how exquisite," Elizabeth remarked, admiring one of the shifts. "Where did Martha ever find all
this?"
"Most are from a new dressmaking shop over in Cambridge," Claudette said. "The owner is from
Prague and knows all the latest styles over there."
"Well, suffice it to say Eliza's going to be the most fashionable baby in all of Colorado Springs,"
Rebecca remarked wryly.
Michaela chuckled. "I should say so."
Red Eagle finished unwrapping the last present. "More clothes," he said, tossing another shift aside
disinterestedly. "Auntie, you must really like Eliza."
"Claudette, these are wonderful, but I couldn't possibly accept all of it," Michaela finally said. "It's
too much."
"Oh, nonsense. No it's not. If you were living in Boston I would have bought you twice this. Only
because I had to haul them out here did I restrain myself."
"Just accept them, Michaela, for my sake," Rebecca said. "Otherwise if you don't I'll have to listen to
her carry on for days about how ungrateful you are."
"She is the last of this generation of grandchildren, Michaela," Elizabeth remarked. "It's our last
chance to really spoil a new baby for awhile."
Michaela chuckled softly and approached Claudette, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Claudette. I love
all of it." She tickled the baby's cheek. "And so does she."
"You're welcome," Claudette said, beaming up at her. "Oh, and Rebecca and I got something for you
older children, too. I know I certainly felt brushed under the rug when my little sisters were born
and I don't intend to do the same to you." She smiled and pointed at her trunk. "Go on. It's in the
drawer there."
Katie opened the trunk drawer to reveal three rectangle-shaped presents. She and Red Eagle tore
open their gifts, revealing a different colorful storybook for each of them.
"Tom Thumb! Gee, thanks, Aunties!" Red Eagle cried.
"Thank you, Aunties!" Katie echoed
"Did I get something?" Byron spoke up shyly from the settee.
"Here's yours, Byron," Katie said, grabbing the last present and scurrying over to him.
Byron beamed and tore open his gift, pleased. "Horses and Their Care," he read.
"That's specially for you, dear. I know how you love mucking about in the barn with those smelly
things," Claudette said.
Byron held his arms out toward her and Claudette got up and hugged him. "Thank you, Auntie." He
blew a kiss to Rebecca. "Thank you, Auntie Rebecca."
Rebecca chuckled and blew a kiss back. "You're most welcome."
"Thank you for bringing the aunties here and I'm glad Brian's getting married because I like Sarah,"
Byron said, eyes closed as the family held hands around the supper table. "Oh, and thank you for
baseball. Amen."
"Amen," Michaela echoed.
"Amen," William said.
"Well, that was an interesting prayer," Claudette said with a raise of her eyebrows, putting her
napkin in her lap.
Byron took her statement as nothing but a compliment and beamed at her. His leg was propped up
on a chair in front of him and his little crutch was leaning against the table "Thanks, Auntie."
Brian stood up to carve the turkey as Sarah handed him plates. A moment later Sully walked in.
"Sorry," he said, taking off his belt and jacket and hanging them up.
"Late," Claudette remarked quietly.
"I'm sorry, we had to start without you," Michaela said as she tucked a napkin into Red Eagle's
collar.
He walked to her and kissed her lips. "That's all right." He glanced in the sling and tickled the
baby's cheek. "Hey, beautiful. Missed ya." He gave Michaela another kiss and then took a seat
beside her.
Claudette cringed at their unguarded affection. "Well, what kept you so long, Sully?"
He took a plate from Brian and immediately began wolfing down some turkey. "Just some business
in town."
"Oh? Pertaining to what?" she demanded.
"Claudette, can't we just enjoy our meal?" Rebecca said.
"What did I say?" she retorted. "I'm just making conversation, Rebecca. I'm behaving myself just
like I promised."
Sully shared an amused glance with Michaela.
"Just trying to get rid of this stock I got from the railroad when they paid me," Sully explained.
"What's stock?" Katie asked.
Michaela cleared her throat as she filled Sully's coffee cup and then topped off William's. "Stock?
Well, it's a small portion of a business that anyone can buy. Then you own that portion of the
business."
"Maybe you could get stock for the clinic," Red Eagle said.
She chuckled. "No, you don't buy stock in a doctor's clinic."
"Railroad sent back a telegram. They won't buy the stock back." Sully took a sip of coffee. "Said it's
not their policy."
"Well, that's a shame," Elizabeth remarked. "It seems if the railroad gave you the stock in the first
place they should be required to take it back if you don't want it."
"They would have to declare a share repurchase first, Sully," Claudette explained. "Submit a tender
offer to you. Unless they do that, I'm afraid you're stuck with them."
Sully stared at her, impressed.
"What? I read the financial section of the Boston Globe," she said, taking a bite of her green beans.
"Only so she can talk to Mr. Lodge," Rebecca remarked with a wry grin at Michaela.
"That's not why!" Claudette exclaimed. "I just want to better myself, become more educated about
our world. If that's all right with you."
"Newspapers are a very good way to find out what's happening," William remarked. "St. Louis has a
good one I try to read when I can."
"Precisely. Thank you, William," Claudette said with surprise.
"I gotta find a way to get rid of these somehow," Sully said. "Preston don't even want 'em."
"Edward would buy them," Claudette said.
"Edward?" Sully replied.
"Yes, you know, Edward your brother-in-law. Maureen's husband. The man you lost your temper
around last year and nearly killed."
"Oh, him," Sully said.
"Claudette, he didn't nearly kill him for heaven sake," Michaela protested. "It was just a little spat.
And Edward hit him, too."
"Well, your husband started it. You severely injured him at least. You broke his nose, Sully. Or
sprained it."
"You broke Uncle Edward's nose, Papa?" Byron asked, looking up at him in admiration. "Whoa."
"Whoa!" Red Eagle echoed. "You never told us that, Papa."
"Hush, eat your supper," Michaela scolded.
"The point is Edward has had Mother's capital heavily invested in the railroad for ages now, to
glorious results," Claudette said. "He would buy that stock in a heartbeat if I know him."
"Edward's investing my money in the railroad?" Elizabeth questioned. "I didn't know that."
"How do you think you get such good returns on your trust, Mother? It doesn't happen by magic.
It's because Edward takes risk."
Elizabeth sighed. "Well, I don't pay attention. Josef always took care of such matters when he was
alive. And Edward never tells me what he's doing with it all."
"He sends you a trustee report every Christmas," Claudette said.
"Oh, I never bother to read that!" Elizabeth said. "I wouldn't understand it anyway."
"I'm afraid all this sort of thing goes right over my head, too," Rebecca remarked.
"I don't have much of a mind for it either," Michaela added. "But you seem to, Claudette. I had no
idea."
"Anyone with any ounce of intelligence can understand how the stock market works, Michaela. You
should read the newspaper. A real newspaper, that is. Not some three page newsletter."
"It's the Gazette, Auntie," Katie spoke up sweetly.
"Yes, call it what you like, but it's not very informative. Unless your life centers around the price of
corn and church picnics."
"Guess if Edward wants the stock, he can have 'em," Sully said. "I'll send him a wire tomorrow."
"Why don't you want to keep the stock in the first place?" Claudette asked. "You could sell it when
it goes up in value."
"I don't wanna own a piece of the railroad," Sully said firmly. "After what they done to the Indians.
They treat their own workers real poor, too. Workers get hurt all the time, railroad hires scabs when
there's a strike."
"Never mind. Let's not get into it," Claudette said. She smiled proudly at Rebecca. "See, aren't I
behaving?"
Rebecca couldn't help chuckling. "Yes, for the most part."
"Pass some more of those good potatoes, Brian," Sully said. "Your ma's a good cook." He smiled at
Michaela and she clutched his hand lovingly.
Claudette pinned up the last few coils of hair into her chignon and then picked up her hat, pinning it
in place just as someone knocked on the door.
Expecting it to be Rebecca, she grabbed her cape off the back of the chair and her purse off the
vanity. "Come in," she called.
"Sleep well, Miss Atkins?" Preston said as he entered the room.
"Oh, Preston," she murmured, taken aback. "I thought you were Rebecca. That is, I thought you
were until you opened the door."
"My cook is preparing an omelet for you and some orange juice. It should be ready in five minutes.
No cheese and no cream, don't worry."
She couldn't help being a little touched. "You remember. About the dairy."
"Yes, of course. How could I forget?"
She grinned despite herself. "Yes, true enough. Well, that's all very kind of you. Thank you. But
Michaela was going to make breakfast for us. Sully's supposed to be picking us up any minute. I'm
sorry."
"Oh," he stammered. He stepped toward her. "Will you be available later today to join me on a walk
around the grounds?"
"We're helping Michaela with the wedding all day."
"Claudette, are you avoiding me?"
"Avoiding you?" she blurted. "No. It's just…well, I thought I made it clear where we stood last time I
was out here."
"Yes. You said we couldn't court because you were about to go home to Boston."
"Precisely."
He smiled wryly. "But you're here now."
"No," she replied. "I mean, yes. Yes I'm here now, but-"
"Claudette, I'm sorry about what happened last winter. I know I wasn't everything I should be. But
if you give me another chance at this, I think I could make you very happy."
"Preston, you do make me happy," she murmured. "But I'm afraid now isn't the time to embark on
something like this. I'm only here for a week. Just for Brian's wedding. And I'm afraid most of my
attention will be devoted to that. And to having a good visit with Mother given I never see her
anymore thanks to Michaela."
"Still, I thought perhaps-"
"Preston," she said resolutely. "No."
She picked up her purse and headed for the door. He stepped back, allowing her to pass, and
heaving a soft sigh of regret.
"Don't cut it too short," Brian said warily as he sat in Jake's chair in the barbershop. His
grandmother and his aunts were managing every aspect of the haircut, leaving him nearly helpless.
"Just please, Mr. Slicker, make it even," Claudette ordered. "And give him some sideburns."
"Sideburns?" Brian blurted. "Never had those before."
Jake began snipping away at Brian's hair, a bit overwhelmed by all the direction from the women.
"You want to be stylish, don't you?" Claudette replied. "Then you must have sideburns."
"Stylish? Never really thought about it," Brian said.
"That's apparent," she replied.
"I think he needs a shave, too," Elizabeth remarked from her wheelchair. "Give this young man a
shave while you're at it, Mr. Slicker."
Brian felt the coins in his pocket. "But-"
"Don't worry, dear, we'll take care of it," Rebecca said. "Part of your wedding present."
He smiled softly. "Thanks, Aunt Rebecca."
"Anything for our favorite nephew," she replied wryly.
"It just came in. I got it back here," Loren said as he led Michaela and Sully to the back of the store.
"Oh, Sully, it's beautiful," Michaela said, running her hand over the stovetop in admiration. "Even I
would love cooking on this."
"Where's the pipe?" Sully demanded. "Stove won't work without a pipe."
"Hold your horses. Its separate. In its own box." Loren nodded at a crate on the floor.
"Good," Sully said, folding his arms. "Kirk and me'll pick it up this afternoon."
"I'll be here," Loren replied.
"What a wonderful wedding present," Michaela said, beaming up at Sully as she patted the baby's
back.
"Yeah, they'll like it," he replied as they headed to the counter.
Michaela put her basket on the counter. It was brimming with dry goods, as well as some new
tablets for the children, a few storybooks, a bonnet for Katie and two brand new shirts for the boys.
"Children," Michaela called. "Bring your shoes over here."
Red Eagle and Katie scurried over, each carrying a new pair of black shoes and sucking on some
hard candy. Byron followed more slowly on his crutch.
Loren eyed all the purchases and quickly added them up in his head, frowning the whole time.
"Sixteen dollars even," he said, looking at Sully skeptically. "I suppose you want that on your
account."
"No, we'll pay cash," Sully said as he pulled out a large wad of bills from his pocket and counted it
on the counter. "And pay off the rest of our account, too."
"The whole account?" Loren asked in disbelief, slowly opening his ledger.
"That's what I said," Sully said, glancing up at him.
Loren smiled softly. "Well, good. Good." He grabbed a pencil and opened to their page in the ledger,
adding up the figures.
Michaela picked up a beautiful white vase on the counter with her free hand. "Oh, Sully. Look at
this. Let's get this for them, too."
Sully put his hand on their back. "We're gettin' 'em that stove."
"I know. But a house isn't a home without a vase of flowers on the table. It's only a dollar. Please?"
He smiled. "All right. What's it come to, Loren?"
He turned a page in the ledger. "Hold on. I'm still countin'. You filled up a lot of pages ya know."
Sully swallowed, slightly embarrassed, but didn't say anything.
"All right, with the vase it all comes to thirty-eight dollars fifty-six cents," Loren said skeptically.
Sully counted out the money and put it on the counter.
Loren counted the money twice before putting it in his cash box. Then he wrote "paid in full" at the
bottom of his ledger.
Sully watched him quietly, then he tentatively cleared his throat. "Loren, Michaela and me
appreciate you extendin' credit to us the past couple years when times been tough. But from now
on things are gonna be better. We won't need your credit anymore."
Loren nodded and closed his ledger. "Sure. Wasn't any trouble at all," he muttered.
"Thanks for the new shoes, Mr. Bray," Byron spoke up, mouth full of candy.
Loren smiled much more genuinely. "You're welcome. You need 'em. You're all growin' like weeds!"
The children giggled and followed their parents out of the store.
Anna Marie pressed both hands to her mouth as Sarah came down the clinic stairs and spun around
in her lacy white wedding dress. It had an intricate bodice, long sleeves and a simple but pretty
train.
"Oh, darlin'!" Anna Marie finally choked.
Sarah glanced at her. "Mama, what's wrong?"
"Nothin'. It's just, you're so beautiful."
"You're gorgeous, Sarah," Michaela remarked. "I love it."
She smiled shyly. "Thank you."
Rebecca and Claudette were standing nearby. Rebecca was holding a notebook with a list of
everything that needed to be done for the wedding.
"Well, it's, uh, it's simple," Claudette remarked. Rebecca nudged her firmly in the ribs. "Simple but
lovely," she added, nearly choking over the words.
"Here, let's put this on," Michaela said, walking to her with her veil and pinning it to her hair.
"I think it needs to be just a little tighter around the waist," Sarah said, pressing her hands to her
belly.
"Yes, about half an inch. We'll fix that tonight," Anna Marie said, drawing together the fabric.
Suddenly the front door opened and Michaela rushed to it, pushing against it.
"No, Brian, you can't come in!" she exclaimed.
Anna Marie screeched and rushed Sarah into the stairwell.
"Dr. Mike?" Kirk called back. "It's just me. It's Kirk."
Michaela sighed with relief and opened the door. "Oh, I'm sorry, Kirk. We thought you were Brian."
He laughed as Sarah waved at him sheepishly.
"Afternoon, Sarah, Mrs. Sheehan. Afternoon, ladies."
"Afternoon, Kirk," Sarah said.
He gestured behind him. "Dr. Mike, can I talk to you a second?"
"Certainly." She closed the door after him. "Is something wrong?"
"It's Faye. She's still feelin' poorly. This is been goin' on about a week now. This mornin' she felt
feverish, and she threw up a little. She's so sick she don't even wanna come into town."
"I'll ride out there right now. Just let me get my bag," she replied.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean you have to do that this late in the day. I just thought maybe if you're not
too busy you could swing by tomorrow."
"Are you sure?" she replied. "I don't mind coming out right now."
He clutched her shoulder. "No, that's all right. You look real busy tryin' to get Sarah ready for the
big day. But tomorrow would be good if ya can. Maybe early?"
"First thing, Kirk," she replied. "And in the meantime tell her I hope she feels better."
"Thank you, Dr. Mike," he said with a grateful smile.
"Cash in advance," Lucy said as she smiled suggestively at her customer and twirled a long tassel
on her bodice.
"I'll pay when the job's done," the man replied as he eyed her up and down.
Her smile faded slightly. "Sorry, Mister. Hank makes the rules. Pay up."
He walked to her and grabbed her arm tightly, drawing her to him. He kissed her aggressively and
then bit her neck hard.
She screeched, pushing against his chest. "Mister, what're ya doin'? Don't!"
"Shut up!" He struck her hard across the cheek.
"Hank!" she shouted, suddenly panicked.
"Just get on the bed," he growled, pushing her down forcefully and ripping off her pantaloons.
She kicked at him and clawed his face, but he was strong and held her down with his weight,
keeping one hand firmly across her mouth. He tore open his trousers and forced himself on her
fiercely while she whimpered and cried and desperately tried to call for help. Finally she gathered all
her strength and pushed him off as hard as he could, sending him stumbling backward.
"Hank!" she yelled, bolting toward the door.
"Come 'ere, ya little whore," the man growled, quickly getting up and pushing her back on the bed
again.
She screamed just as Hank threw open the door. He grabbed the man by the collar and punched
him hard in the mouth.
"Get back, Lucy!" Hank said, drawing her behind him protectively
"Hold it right there!" the man said, drawing his revolver and pointing it at Hank resolutely. "One
more move and I'll kill ya."
to be continued...
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Chapter Twenty-four
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Hank slowly raised his hands. "All right. All right, take it easy."
"Oh, my God. Hank," Lucy whimpered, clutching his arm. "Mister, please leave us alone."
"Shut up!" he ordered as he buttoned his trousers with his free hand. "How much cash you got in
this place? How much?"!
"I ain't sure," Hank replied, eyeing the revolver uneasily.
He cocked the revolver. "Now listen here. I ask the questions, and you give me the answers. Got it?
Now how much cash you got in here?"
"About fifty dollars," Hank said.
He grabbed Lucy by the arm and held the gun to her temple. She sobbed and looked at Hank
helplessly. "Get it," he ordered. "And meantime you breathe one word about me I'll blow this one's
brains out right in front of ya. Go."
Hank rushed out of the room.
"Stop cryin'," the man ordered, glancing at Lucy impatiently. "You'll wake everybody up."
She bit her lip hard and struggled not to sob.
Hank quickly returned with a pile of cash, holding it out. "Take it. Take all of it. Just let her go," he
said evenly.
"Put it in my saddle bag," he ordered, keeping the revolver pressed firmly to the girl's temple. "And
hurry up."
Hank opened on the saddle bag resting on the floor and put the money inside. Then he held out the
bag to him.
"Thank you. Thank you kindly," he replied, putting it over his shoulder. He pushed Lucy toward
Hank violently. "Now you just sit right here a spell, don't be shoutin' for help or anything stupid like
that. Just let me be on my way and we'll call it even."
Hank stepped aside and the man rushed out of the room. As soon as he left Hank grabbed his
revolver and chased after him.
"Hank, no, he'll kill you!" Lucy cried.
"He ain't gettin' away with this!" he shouted.
He ran outside to find the man galloping toward the meadow out of town. Hank raised his revolver
and shot at him three times. The man pulled back tightly on the reins and turned around, shooting
back at Hank.
Lucy screamed from the doorway and the few townsfolk who were awake ran to take cover.
The man shot again and hit Hank square in his left arm. Hank shot back angrily, firing off two more
shots until he was out of bullets. The man took the opportunity and galloped quickly out of town.
"Damn it!" Hank said, grabbing his injured arm.
"Hank!" Lucy cried, running to him. "Oh, good Lord!"
"I'm all right," he said. "We gotta go after him! He's gettin' away!"
"Forget him! You need a doctor!"
Matthew came running over pulling on his vest. "What's goin' on? What happened?"
"I been robbed!" he said angrily. "Took all my money and tried to hurt one of my girls!"
Lucy was in tears now. She rushed over to the clinic and pounded on the door. "Dr. Mike! Dr. Mike!"
"Get some men together, saddle some horses," Hank ordered. "We can't let him get away."
"Hold on, Hank," Matthew said. "Let's get you taken care of first. Then you give me a description of
this fella and I'll go after him."
Lucy tried to open the clinic door but it was locked. "Dr. Mike!"
Hank pulled back his hand and examined his arm for the first time. It was bleeding profusely, but
he was surprised that he wasn't in much pain. All he could think about was the outlaw who had
raped one of his girls, and all the money he had taken with him to boot.
"Dr. Mike ain't here, sheriff!" Lucy cried, rushing back to them. "It's all locked up."
"She probably hasn't come into town yet," Matthew said. "It's early. Come on, we'll get him over to
Jake's. He'll know what to do."
"Oh, Hank," Lucy said tearfully. "Oh, he told us to stay put."
"You all right, Lucy?" he asked, giving her head a gentle caress.
"Yes," she said, rubbing at her tears and smearing her makeup. "Come on. Jake's gonna help ya."
"House calls already?" Sully said disapprovingly. "Sure you're up to it?"
"Just one house call. To Faye," Michaela said defensively. "And I'm up to it. I feel fine."
He placed a pile of breakfast dishes on the counter. "Ya said ya still feel faint sometimes."
"I never said that. I only felt a little dizzy that one time." She pumped some water into the sink to
wash the dishes.
"That ain't what ya said," he replied.
She eyed him impatiently. "Don't tell me what I said. You're putting words in my mouth."
"Sorry, that's your job," he replied only half teasingly as he grabbed the rest of the dishes.
"Sully, Faye hasn't been in town in a week. Kirk thinks she's running a fever now. She's my friend
and if she's too ill to come to the clinic I need to check in on her."
"Still feel better if I drove ya," he said, grabbing another glass and some napkins and putting them
on the counter. "Don't like ya goin' alone."
"Eliza's coming with me. I won't be alone," she said with a wry smile.
Sully wasn't amused. He sighed.
"Sully, is this about my sisters? You don't have to entertain them. They're fine. They'll just spend
the day with Mother. You won't have to play host all by yourself, I promise."
"It ain't them."
"Then what?"
"It's like I said, just worried about ya is all. What if ya faint again?"
She sighed. "I promise to turn around and come home the moment I don't feel well. Does that
make you feel better?"
"Guess it's up to you. You wanna start goin' on house calls I can't stop ya."
"All right. I will." She paused and stepped toward him and rubbed his arm. "I know you're just
concerned about me. I appreciate that. I won't do too much."
He gave her a soft kiss. "Good."
"I'll try to be back in time for lunch. I can meet you and Mother, Rebecca and Claudette for lunch,"
she said.
"Sounds good," he replied. "And take it-"
"Take it easy, I promise," she vowed, giving him another kiss.
Michaela knocked on the door of Faye's cabin and held the basket with her sleeping baby under her
arm.
"Come in," Faye called weakly.
Michaela opened the door, surprised to find Faye balled up in bed in her nightgown.
"Faye, you should have sent for me earlier," she said, placing the basket on the table and coming to
the bed.
"Oh, Dr. Mike. I'm miserable." She pressed a washcloth to her mouth and coughed.
"Tell me what's been happening," Michaela said, grasping her wrist and feeling her pulse.
"I just caught this terrible catarrh. Headache, runny nose. And I've got all kinds of funny twinges in
my stomach, like I ate something bad."
Michaela felt her forehead and then took out her thermometer. "Hold this under your tongue," she
instructed. She took out her stethoscope and listened to Faye's heart and lungs.
"Oh, and I'm so tired and achy," Faye said, shaking her head. "I make Kirk rub my back until he
can't anymore and it still hurts."
Michaela removed the thermometer and looked at the reading, then shook it out.
"What do you think it is, Dr. Mike?" Faye asked. "It ain't the grippe, is it?"
"I'm not sure, but … Faye, could you be pregnant?"
She looked up in disbelief. "What? Pregnant? I thought this was some kind of catarrh!"
"Well, sometimes women feel poorly in the first few weeks. It can seem just like a catarrh."
Her eyes brightened. "Oh, my Lord. Well, Kirk and me, we just started tryin' again. You think it's
happened already?"
"Let's find out for sure, shall we? Can you bend your knees?"
Faye nodded shyly and Michaela felt her uterus with one hand and slipped her fingers inside. Faye
flinched and held her breath.
"I'm sorry, my hands are cold," Michaela murmured.
"It's all right," she said nervously.
A moment later Michaela smiled. "Oh, yes. You're pregnant."
Faye beamed. "Oh, Dr. Mike. Really?"
She pressed down on her uterus with both hands. "Really. Six, maybe seven weeks it feels like to
me. When was your last monthly? A few months ago?"
"Come to think of it I did miss it this month. Oh, Kirk's gonna be so happy," she said, tears
suddenly welling in her eyes. "Oh, what happy news."
Michaela squeezed her hand. "This is happy news."
Her face suddenly fell. "Dr. Mike, it's gonna work out this time, right? Nothin's gonna happen to it? I
don't think I can put Kirk through all that again."
"You've had bad luck in the past," she murmured. "But that has no bearing on this pregnancy.
You're going to take good care of yourself, all of us will help you and we'll hope for the best."
"And pray," Faye added.
"Yes," Michaela murmured.
Faye sniffled. "Oh. I'm havin' another baby."
She chuckled softly and gave the young woman a comforting hug. "Yes you are. Congratulations."
"Are you asleep?" Michaela whispered as she glanced down at the basket beside her feet. Eliza had
her head turned to the side and she was dozing contentedly, swaddled in a quilt. "Good girl," she
said. "We'll be home soon, all right?" She clicked her tongue at Flash and slapped the reins.
She shielded her eyes as she spotted a rider up ahead. His horse was moving at a very slow pace,
the man's head was bent and he was clutching his shoulder with one hand and loosely holding his
reins. His horse looked exhausted and was breathing heavily.
"Excuse me," she called. "Are you all right?"
He glanced up hesitantly, face bathed in sweat. "Ma'am." He blinked rapidly and struggled to focus.
"You're hurt," she said, pulling back on the reins and climbing down from the wagon. She grabbed
her medical bag. "Can you get off your horse? Let me help you."
He reluctantly dismounted. "I uh, I was down by the creek cleaning my gun when it went off. Fool
thing to happen."
"Sit down, let me take a look. I'm a doctor," she said.
He stumbled to a cluster of boulders and sat down and Michaela put her bag beside him. She
helped him carefully off with his jacket, dropping it aside, and then unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it
down his bloody arm.
He grimaced as she probed the bullet wound just above his arm. "It's a clean wound, the bullet
went through. But there's a little shrapnel still in here. I'm going to need to remove it or it could
become infected. Let me take you back to my clinic. It's about four miles down the road, in
Colorado Springs."
"No, no. You do it right here. I got places to be." He found a flask in his back pocket.
"Your horse looks tired," she remarked. "I don't think you're going to get very far on him. Besides,
you shouldn't be riding in your condition anyway."
"Just go on. Do it."
"All right," she said hesitantly, opening up her bag and taking out a cloth, some forceps and her
carbolic acid.
The man drank from his flask as she cleaned his arm.
"Don't move!" somebody suddenly shouted. "By the power invested in me by the state of Colorado
I'm placin' you under arrest."
Michaela spun around, shocked to see a tall and intimidating lawman pointing a rifle at them.
"Marshall Whitmore!" the injured man said with a chuckle. "Now what're ya doin' 'round these parts?
"
"Shut your mouth, Peterson, and get your hands in the air," he ordered.
"All right, all right," he said, slowly raising his hands.
"What's this about, Marshal?" Michaela asked, backing up. "What did he do?"
"Robbed three businesses in Denver's what he done. Made off with about three hundred dollars. And
killed a man in the process. A deputy. My friend."
"Oh, he died?" he replied. "What a shame."
"Who are you?" the marshal demanded, glaring at Michaela. "You aidin' and abettin' this criminal?"
"No, Marshal. No, I had no idea. I just came across him a minute ago. He's hurt. He's been shot and
I'm a doctor."
"Well, you best be on your way, ma'am," he replied. "I'll take over from here."
"What about his injuries?"
"He'll get tended to, don't you worry your pretty little self. In jail."
Suddenly Peterson lurched forward, grabbed a knife out of his boot and stabbed the marshal directly
in the chest. Michaela gasped and screeched in shock. The marshal grabbed Peterson's arm and
then slumped to the ground, falling forward in the dust.
"Oh, my God. What did you do?" Michaela said hoarsely. "No!" She crouched down to try to help
the marshal.
"Get up," he ordered. "Get in your wagon. Get up!"
"Wait, he could still be alive!" she exclaimed.
He dragged her to her wagon and hauled her into the back. "Sit down and don't say anything else."
He withdrew his gun and pointed it at her. "Sit down! Now!"
Michaela climbed in back of the wagon and discreetly pulled the basket toward her and covered up
the entire basket with a quilt so he couldn't see the baby. She was terrified of what he might do if
he found out she had a baby with her. Meanwhile Peterson grabbed his exhausted horse and
tethered him to the back of the wagon.
"Where are we going?" she asked unsteadily.
"That don't concern you."
"Please let me go," she begged. "Please, you don't need me."
"Don't tell me what I do and don't need," he spat, grabbing the reins.
"Please, please."
He spun around. "I do need ya. I need a hostage so that don't happen again. Now shut up and let
me drive." He slapped the reins fiercely and sent Flash into a fast trot.
Matthew galloped north out of town, following the direction Hank had said the man went. He had
been riding about half an hour when he came upon a man lying face down in the dirt just off the
side of the road. He galloped faster and jumped off his horse. There was a puddle of fresh blood
beside him.
"Mister!" Matthew shook his shoulder, then turned him over, revealing his deadly stab wound.
"Marshal Whitmore," he breathed, immediately recognizing him. He pressed his hand to the side of
the man's neck, feeling for a heartbeat. Nothing.
Matthew looked up in shock. He got to his feet and withdrew his gun, looking around him in all
directions suspiciously. But whoever had killed the marshal was long gone.
Claudette opened her small pocket watch and looked at it impatiently. "Where is she?" she
demanded. "I'm famished."
"She'll be here," Sully said. He was sitting across from Michaela's mother and sisters at one of the
long café tables.
"Uh, she's just like Father," Claudette griped, taking a sip of coffee. "Remember, Mother? He
couldn't keep track of time if his life depended on it. Left us all just waiting here like this without a
care on many an occasion. You would think he never learned what a clock was."
"House calls sometimes take longer than ya count on," Sully spoke up.
"Yes, she'll be here shortly," Rebecca spoke up. "Don't worry."
"I'm not worried. I just think we should order lunch before we spoil our appetites for supper,"
Claudette said. She waved at Grace. "Excuse me? You there. Yes, you. We'd like to order!"
Dorothy suddenly scurried into the café through the back entrance, wrapped in a shawl.
"Sully!" she called.
He glanced up and nodded in her direction. "Miss Dorothy."
"Sully, there you are. Where's Michaela?" she asked, out of breath.
"She's on house calls. Why?" he asked.
"Hank was shot this mornin'. Didn't you hear?"
He looked up at her with alarm. "No, what happened? He all right?"
"Shot!" Claudette gasped, clutching her heart. "Good gracious!"
"Seems some customer held up him and one of the girls at gunpoint and took all his cash. Hank got
shot tryin' to stop him." She sighed. "He's over at Jake's. Looks like he's gonna be all right, but I
think Michaela should take a look."
"She's due back any time."
"You let her know as soon as she gets in."
"I'll send her right over," he said.
Dorothy nodded and hurried over to Grace to ask her to prepare a tray of food for Hank.
Claudette dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief. "I hate this uncivilized provincial town. I hate fearing
for my life at every turn! Bears and outlaws and Lord knows what all else."
"Oh, calm yourself, Claudette," Elizabeth scolded. "This doesn't happen that often."
"We have robberies in Boston, too," Rebecca added.
"Not like this! Not where someone just gets shot in broad daylight!" she protested.
"Why don't ya go ahead an' order," Sully said, standing up and putting his mug down. "I'm gonna
go check on Hank."
"Send him our best, Sully," Elizabeth said.
"I will," he said.
"I think I mighta got him," Hank said as he sat on the bench in Jake's barbershop. "He was holdin'
his arm when he left." Lucy was beside him as tearful as ever and no less distraught over the whole
ordeal. A few other girls from the saloon had come over to lend their support.
Sully stood in the doorway and folded his arms, listening attentively.
"Here, Hank," Jake said as he handed him a glass of whiskey.
Hank downed it quickly. His arm was bandaged and in a sling and the bullet was sitting in a basin
with some forceps off to the side.
"He might get away with stealin' my money, but nobody hurts my girls." Hank finished the last drop
of whiskey. "Just get me on my horse and I'll bring him to justice."
"Take it easy," Sully said. "Why don't ya just let Matthew and the law handle it from here?"
Just then Matthew walked inside, clutching a worn wanted poster.
"You find him?" Hank demanded.
"Marshal Whitmore's dead," he replied. "Looks like he was stabbed."
"What?" Sully breathed.
"He was carryin' this," Matthew said, handing Hank the wanted poster.
Hank glanced at the poster.
"That's him," Lucy said, clutching Hank's leg. "That's him, Hank."
"That's him all right," Hank said.
"His name's Gray Peterson. Wanted for robbery and murder in Denver," Matthew said.
"Make that two robberies and murders," Hank said. "Sounds to me like he came across the marshal
and had no choice but to kill him."
Sully took the poster from Hank and studied the man's face. "Where'd you find the marshal?"
"Couple miles north of town. Out toward the Davis place," Matthew said.
Sully looked up with alarm. "Dr. Mike's out there, Matthew."
"Dr. Mike?"
"She rode out to Faye's this mornin'. Hasn't come back yet."
Hank stood up. "What're we waitin' for? Let's get back out there."
"You stay put, Hank! You're in no condition to go anywhere!" Lucy exclaimed.
"Stay where you are and rest, Hank," Matthew said. "We'll take care of this."
"Just bring him back alive," Hank said. "I wanna watch him hang."
"Think Dr. Mike mighta come across him?" Matthew asked as they crossed the street to the sheriff's
office.
"Sounds like they were on the same road," Sully replied. "Let's head over to Faye's first, see if Dr.
Mike ever made it there."
"Good idea."
Claudette scurried over to the men with an impatient scowl.
"Sully, what's taking so long? Your food's getting cold!" she called.
"We're gonna go look for Michaela."
"What? You said she was fine!"
Matthew unlocked the sheriff's office. "Seems this man who shot Hank might have been on the
same road she took this mornin'."
She crossed her arms. "Well, you'd better find her soon. Brian's rehearsal dinner's tonight! You can't
be thinking we should cancel it!"
"No need to cancel it. We'll be back well before then," Sully said.
"Good, you'd better. She can't ruin his wedding."
"I'll get some supplies, Sully," Matthew said as he headed inside.
"What's going on?" William called, jogging over from the boarding house.
"Oh, Michaela's out there in those woods with some outlaw on the loose," Claudette griped. "I
always said house calls were a bad idea. But did she listen to me? Of course not. Now see what's
happened!"
"The outlaw who shot Mr. Lawson?" William asked with alarm. "Sully, that man's dangerous."
"How did the whole town know about that before we did?" Claudette demanded sourly.
"I'm sure she's fine. We'll find her," Sully said..
"I'm coming with you," William said. "Just let me get my horse."
"No, it's all right," Sully said. "We'll be all right."
"You need all the able-bodied men you can find out there. No telling what he could do," he replied.
"Probably a good idea, Sully," Matthew remarked as he walked back outside with some saddlebags.
"Sounds like he's trigger happy. Better we have a lot of help."
Sully reluctantly nodded. "All right. Get your horse."
"I'll just be a minute," he replied, taking off back toward the boarding house.
Sully untethered his horse, glancing at Claudette. "Tell your ma we'll be back soon as we can. Kids
need to be picked up from school at three o'clock."
"Yes, of course. We'll take care of them. Be careful."
"We will," he said as he mounted his horse.
Peterson pulled back on the reins. "Whoa!" he said.
"Why are we stopping?" Michaela asked. One hand was clutching the basket where the baby was
still sleeping, lulled by the rolling wagon. She just kept praying and hoping with all her might Eliza
would stay unnoticed for as long as possible.
"I need some water. Creek bed's just down here," he muttered.
"You should let me finish tending to your wounds," she said. "That shrapnel, it could-"
"Did I say you could talk?" he spat, climbing down from the wagon. "What're ya waitin' for? Get
down. Come on."
"I'll wait here. I won't move," she vowed.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. "Come on. Hurry up!"
Michaela glanced at the basket worriedly and then climbed over the side of the wagon and followed
him to the creek. She watched as he squatted down and washed his arm with the water and then
took a long drink. She tentatively squatted down and dipped her hand into the water, taking a drink
herself. Then he abruptly grabbed her arm again and dragged her back up the incline to the wagon.
Suddenly a tiny wail came from the basket.
He stopped short. "What was that?"
Michaela looked at the basket in a panic. She willed Eliza not to cry, but she knew now it was too
late. Peterson had heard the baby, and whatever happened next was up to him.
He walked briskly to the wagon and pulled back the quilt. His face fell. "Oh, Christ. What the hell is
this?"
"My baby," Michaela choked. "She's my baby. Please don't hurt her."
"I know it's your baby, God damn it," he retorted. "I look blind to you?"
"Just let us go," Michaela begged. "I promise I'll never breathe a word about you. I won't turn you
in. Please believe me. You can just go on your way." She walked toward the basket but he spun
around and held up his hand.
"Don't move. Stay where you are."
She stopped and looked in the basket worriedly as Eliza continued to fuss.
"Don't move," he ordered as he paced, folding his arms.
"Please," Michaela whispered.
"Christ, woman, shut up and let me think!" he retorted, pacing more quickly.
Michaela watched him pace. She grew more fearful and panicked with each step he took.
"All right, all right," he said at last. "Way I see it I got no choice. We gotta leave her behind."
"No, we can't leave her!" she screamed, rushing toward the basket, brushing past him and picking
the baby up. "No, we can't!" Eliza wailed and kicked her legs. "I won't leave her!"
"We can't take her with us!" he shouted. "What do ya want me to do?"
"I'll keep her quiet, I will, I will," she said desperately. "Please don't make me leave my baby.
Please, I beg of you!"
"She ain't comin' with us and that's the end of it," he retorted. "Now give her to me."
"No!" she shouted, tears pouring down her cheeks as she held Eliza all the tighter to her.
"Come on, we don't got time for this!" he cried. "Give her to me!"
"No, I'm not letting go! I'll die before I do! If you want to touch her you're going to have to kill me
first!"
He raised his gun and pointed it at her forehead. Then he lowered it and growled, pacing in
frustration. "Oh, Christ."
"You need me," Michaela said desperately. "You need a hostage. Well, you're not getting me
without my baby. You'll have to kill us both. And then where will you be? Do you want to add two
more murder charges to everything? And what about your wounds? You're a wanted man. How will
you find a doctor? Infection could kill you within days if you don't let someone take that shrapnel
out."
He waved his gun at the wagon. "All right, fine, we'll keep her. For now. Go. Get up there. And keep
her quiet. You better keep her quiet or we're leavin' her behind. You'll never see her again. That's a
promise."
Michaela let out an immense sigh of relief and quickly got back into the wagon. She rocked Eliza
and rubbed her back fleetingly. "Shh, it's all right, it's all right," she soothed. "Everything's going to
be fine. Mama's here, sweetheart. Hush. Hush."
Faye wiped down the table with a cloth as she looked up at Sully, Matthew and William curiously.
"Well, I reckon she was here about ten o'clock. Why?"
"She ain't come back yet," Sully explained. "She said she was comin' right back once she stopped by
here."
"What?" she breathed. "Where is she? She said she was headin' straight back to town."
"We ain't sure. But there was a murder this mornin'," Matthew said. "Sheriff in the next county over
was stabbed not a couple miles from here. Looks like whoever did it mighta been the same man
that robbed Hank's saloon."
"Oh, good Lord. You don't suppose she ran into him, do you?" Faye lifted the baby out of her
highchair and held her over her shoulder.
"We're hoping not," William said. "That's why we went out to look for her straight away."
"Well, you get back out there. Bring her home safe."
"We will," Matthew said. "Meantime, you stay inside, keep your door locked until Kirk comes home."
She rubbed the baby's back. "All right, Matthew. I surely will. You men folk be safe out there, too."
"There's no flower petals in it," Katie said as she turned her flower girl basket upside down.
"Yeah, and where's the ring?" Byron added, holding up the ring bearer's pillow curiously.
"They'll be flower petals the day of the ceremony. Don't worry," Sarah said. "And the ring!"
"Oh," Byron said.
"Oh," Red Eagle echoed.
Brian opened the church doors and walked into the alcove. "Still not back yet."
"Oh, Brian. I hate for them to miss all this," Sarah said. "Maybe we could postpone until tomorrow."
"Ma would want us to go ahead. Sides, they ain't really in the weddin' party. We can get along
without 'em here. And I'll just tell Matthew what to do as soon as he gets back."
"I can't believe they're not here yet," Claudette said irritably as she joined everyone in the alcove.
"They're ruining everything."
"No, it's all right, Aunt Claudette," Brian said. "We'll just have to do without the candle lighting and
my best man for the rehearsal."
"She's lucky you're so patient," Claudette retorted. "I don't know how you put up with this sort of
thing from her all these years."
Brian chuckled. "I'll tell the Reverend we're ready to start."
"I always said she shouldn't drive alone," Claudette griped as she and Rebecca ascended the hotel
staircase. "What exactly did she plan to do if the wagon broke down? She can't fix it."
"I have a feeling Michaela's become a lot more resourceful since moving out here than we realize,"
Rebecca replied.
"If she were resourceful, Rebecca, she would have been home by now," she replied. "And what
about wild animals or Indians? She certainly doesn't carry a rifle."
"Well, I'm sure Sully's found her by now. We don't need to worry."
"I can't believe he let her go out there in the first place. I can't believe he didn't go with her."
Rebecca chuckled despite herself. "Claudette, you know as well as I Michaela makes her own
decisions. I have a feeling she wants to be independent."
"Oh, right. It's one of those marriages."
They reached Rebecca's door and Rebecca pulled out her room key and unlocked it. "I'm sure Brian
will send word by the morning. Goodnight."
"Goodnight. Sleep well," Claudette said she approached her own door. She unlocked it and headed
to her vanity. Just as she was removing her cape and hat someone rapped lightly on the door.
"Yes. Who is it?"
"Preston," he called.
She smoothed her hair and approached the door, opening it. "Preston?"
He was holding a teacup and his brow was wrinkled with worry. "The doorman just told me you
came in. It's so late."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, it's Michaela again. She went on house calls and never came back. And
now there's this robber or outlaw or whatever he is on the loose, and bears and wild animals and
God knows what else. Sully and his father took off in search of her."
"Oh, I hope she's all right."
"Don't worry, she is. She always does this. It's all because of Brian's wedding. The moment the
attention is off her she has to get it back somehow."
He held up the tea. "I brought you something warm to drink."
"Oh, you didn't have to. Thank you. I adore a cup of tea before bed."
He nodded at the small round table on one side of the room. "May I?"
"I suppose," she murmured, stepping back and allowing him inside.
He placed the teacup and saucer on the table and then turned to face her. "Can I bring you
anything else? Another pillow? Something to eat?"
"No, this is fine. Thank you," she said, taking a seat at the table and picking up the cup.
"Brian and Sarah were kind enough to send me an invitation to the wedding. Perhaps we could go
together."
She took a sip of tea. "Hardly any kind of grand social event to bring someone to."
"But I'd like to go to it with you. I'd like you on my arm."
"Oh, Preston," she murmured. "Stop."
"Stop what? I can't help it."
"I'm here a week, remember? Just a week."
"Every moment with you is so precious to me." He crouched down beside her and held her hand,
bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers.
"Preston," she protested.
He kept kissing her hand, turning it over to kiss her palm. "You're so beautiful." He shifted up and
reached for the pins in her hair, loosening a few of them. "I love your hair."
"You do?" she whispered shyly. "My late husband never did. He said it made me look far too pale
and sickly. And too Irish. He was a fifth generation American."
"No, you're beautiful." He gently kissed her chin, then her cheek.
"Preston? Perhaps we should …. we should …perhaps you should leave now." She was becoming
less and less apt to stop him with every tender kiss he gave her.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, pressing his lips to hers. Claudette forgot all about
propriety. She forgot all about her vow to call things off permanently with Preston. She put aside
how utterly impracticable their whole relationship was. When he guided her to her feet and began
unbuttoning her silk bodice, she didn't protest. Before she knew it they were backing up to the bed
and turning down the covers as they both struggled to free themselves of their clothing. Preston got
up briefly to lock her door, unbuttoning his vest as he went, then he turned off the lights and joined
her at the bed, wrapping her in his arms once again.
to be continued...
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Blood Ties
BeckyH
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Chapter Twenty-five
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Preston rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling in utter shock. He panted and dabbed at his
forehead with the back of his hand.
"That was…that was….stupendous," he finally gasped.
Claudette buried her face behind her hands. She was lying beside him, equally in shock. "Oh …. my
…. Lord. Oh, no. How did this happen?"
"No, Claudette, you were wonderful. You were fabulous," he said, turning his head to face her. "You
were-"
"Preston, stop, you're making it worse," she protested with a groan. "I can't believe that just
happened."
"What do you mean? What's wrong?" he blurted. "Oh. Is it a baby? You're worried you might
become pregnant?"
"Oh, that's sweet," she murmured, dropping her hands to her sides. "I'm afraid I'm well past being
able to conceive."
"Oh," he said. "Well, then what's wrong?"
"Let's just think about it, shall we? To start, we're not even married."
"We can get married. We can get married," he replied. "I'll marry you in a heartbeat."
"Oh, good gracious, here we go again," she muttered. "How on earth are we going to get married?
We've talked about this before. I want to live in Boston and you want to live here. We can't have a
proper marriage two thousand miles apart. It's ridiculous." She shook her head. "Oh, Preston, it's
just not right, doing this without being married. I feel like I should, I don't know, take a bath. Or go
to confession."
He caressed her cheek. "Claudette, we're wonderful together. We're meant to be together. Don't
feel guilty about this. Oh, you were so fabulous."
She softened a bit and shifted to gaze at him. Her husband had never talked to her like this. He
never once told her he was happy with their level of intimacy. When he wanted to make love it was
never anything all that pleasurable for her. Charles would always just move beside her, unbutton her
nightgown, take care of his needs and then move back to his side of the bed and go to sleep. He
never told her he loved her, and they never held each other or talked afterward, as she had always
secretly wished they would. If anything he made her feel like their love life was terrible, and
moreover, that it was her fault.
"Was I really that good?" she whispered shyly. "You're not just saying that?"
"Do I look like I'm just saying that?"
"Well, thank you, I tried," she said, giving him a shy, soft kiss. "If that's the proper thing one should
say in response."
He drew her to his chest. "Close your eyes, let's just get some rest. We can talk about it more
later."
"I am rather tired," she admitted.
"You should be," he murmured wryly.
She snuggled up against his smooth, muscular chest. She loved a man with a hairless chest. She
had always been repulsed by how hairy Sully seemed to be and wanted nothing to do with any men
like him. Preston was really everything physical she had ever preferred in a man. And she loved him,
she had to admit. She loved him even more deeply now that they had consummated their
relationship. But as long as he refused to move to Boston, she knew marriage just wasn't going to
be an option.
It had been dark for some time when Peterson finally pulled the wagon off the road and out of
sight. He jumped down and grabbed a length of rawhide out of his vest pocket.
"Get down. We'll make camp here," he said.
Michaela cuddled the baby against her firmly and watched fearfully as he approached her swiftly.
"Come on, get over here. Put the baby down. Keep her in the basket."
"No!" she cried.
He yanked Eliza from her and put her in the basket, then grabbed Michaela arms and dragged her
off the back of the wagon. She cried out as he spun her around, putting her arms behind her back
and tying the rawhide tightly around her wrists.
"You don't need to tie me. I won't run. Please don't tie me," she said. "Please, I need to hold my
baby. I need to tend to her."
"You're lucky she's even still alive. Now wait here while I build a fire."
Michaela gazed at the baby helplessly while he went off and quickly gathered some kindling and lit a
fire. Eliza fussed on and off the entire time, and Michaela felt positively heartsick she couldn't lift her
into her arms, nurse her and reassure her. She wiggled her wrists and desperately tried to get out
of the rawhide, but he had tied it tight.
At last Peterson sat beside the fire and pulled out some jerky, chewing on it.
"Come over here. Sit down," he ordered.
Michaela reluctantly walked to the fire and crouched down across from him. She racked her brain for
how to get out of a situation that was rapidly growing worse as the hours passed. She hadn't
anticipated he would tie her up. If he didn't tie her up perhaps she could try to grab her scalpel out
of her medical bag, or her chloroform. But first and foremost she just wanted to take care of the
baby.
"She got a name?" Peterson suddenly asked, glancing at the wagon.
Michaela slowly met his eyes.
"The baby. She got a name?" he pressed.
She stared back at him blankly, and then looked away.
"I see. You're still sore about earlier today. Well, you can't blame me. Anybody else woulda done
the same thing."
"I need to feed her," she said resolutely. "I need you to untie me and let me feed my baby. Right
now."
"I make the orders around here, not you." He took another bite of jerky.
"She's hungry. And we can't leave her alone in the wagon all night! She'll freeze to death!"
Eliza suddenly let out a demanding cry that only made Michaela all the more anxious.
"She's hungry. I haven't fed her in hours," Michaela went on. "Please, I haven't fed her in hours.
Please, please."
He sighed and got up, grabbing his knife. He spun her around and cut off the rawhide. "Feed your
god damned baby if it'll keep the both of ya quiet. Jesus."
Michaela rushed to the wagon and scooped up Eliza in one arm and grabbed the basket in her other
hand. She walked toward the woods in the opposite direction.
Peterson pointed his gun at her. "Wait just a minute. Get back here."
Michaela slowly spun around. "You said I could feed her," she said hoarsely.
"Stay over here by the fire where I can keep an eye on ya. Where I can see ya if ya try to make a
run for it." He put his gun back.
Fearful of his probing gaze, but desperate to tend to the baby, Michaela reluctantly returned to the
fire. She turned her back to him and crouched down over the baby, then unbuttoned her blouse and
gave the baby the breast.
"Shh, good girl. There you are," she soothed in a whisper. "It's all right. It's all right." She picked up
one of the blankets out of the basket and draped it over her shoulder and across the baby, shielding
herself as much as possible while Eliza nursed.
Meanwhile Peterson slipped off his shirt and washed his wound with some water from a canteen,
groaning softly. Then he took a swig of whiskey and wiped his sweaty brow.
At last Eliza finished feeding and nearly fell asleep at the breast. Michaela laid her in the basket and
covered her up warmly and then buttoned up her blouse and jacket. She crouched down and kissed
the baby's tiny cheeks. "I'll get us out of this," she whispered. "Mama won't let him hurt you. I
promise."
She could feel Peterson's probing gaze on her. She reluctantly turned around and eyed his wounded
arm. It was red and inflamed, and he was dripping with sweat.
"You're developing a fever," she remarked. "That shrapnel needs to be removed."
He took another swig of whiskey.
"Fine, sit there and lose your arm. I don't care," she said, returning her gaze to the baby and
tenderly stroking her hair.
He eyed her a long moment. "I could lose my arm?"
"Once an infection develops it's usually too late. The sooner the better."
"You really a doctor? Didn't know they let women into medical school."
"They let me in," she replied.
"Well, go on, then, doctor. Get your doctor things."
She got up and walked to the wagon, grabbing her medical bag out of the back of the wagon. She
walked to his side and crouched down beside him, taking out her carbolic acid and forceps. She
cleaned the wound with some cotton and then picked up her forceps.
Suddenly he grabbed her wrist. "Don't be gettin' it in your head to try anything. I'm warnin' ya," he
said.
She pulled her hand away. "This may be painful. I'll try to be as quick as possible."
He kept his eyes on her as Michaela worked at removing all the shrapnel. Then she cleaned his arm
and bandaged it up tightly.
He traced her cheek with his finger as she tied off the bandage. He glanced at her wedding ring.
"You got a husband? Bet he's mighty worried about you. I apologize about that."
She ignored him and cleaned her instruments off with the carbolic acid and a cloth.
"You from around these parts? You don't sound like you are. Where ya from? Back East?"
She slowly met his eyes. "I have nothing to say to you. You're disgusting. I'll never, ever forgive you
for trying to hurt my baby." She abruptly got up and placed her medical bag in the wagon, then
returned to the basket and picked up Eliza, rocking her soothingly in front of the warm fire.
Peterson nudged Michaela roughly with his boot. "Get up. Get up," he said.
Michaela sat up groggily and lifted the baby into her arms. Eliza was still asleep, but Michaela knew
her routine well and knew she would most likely be ready for a feeding very shortly.
Peterson kicked some dust onto the coals of the fire. "Get in the wagon. Come on."
She eyed his perspiring brow. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "I should change your bandages."
"Stop doin' that," he barked, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the wagon.
"What?" she murmured.
"Stop tryin' to help," he said. "You're a hostage, remember?"
"I'm still a doctor. It's my job to help the sick and you're showing signs your wound could be
infected."
"Just get in and be quiet," he replied, climbing up onto the wagon seat and grabbing the reins.
Preston lingered just inside Claudette's room and drew her to him, kissing her brow, her cheeks and
her lips as she stood in her nightgown.
"You have to go," she protested, her arms wrapped around her waist. "You must go."
He held her face in his hands and kissed her again.
"Preston," she protested.
He smiled wryly. "All right, I'm leaving." He opened the door and headed out to the hallway.
Rebecca suddenly came down the hallway, fully dressed for the day, and stopped short as she saw
him leaving. He was buttoning up his vest and his hair was very disheveled.
Preston cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded at her. "Ma'am," he murmured.
"Good…good morning," she stammered. She hurried to Claudette's door and knocked on it firmly.
"Preston, stop it," Claudette protested. "Go away."
"Claudette, it's me!" Rebecca called. "It's Rebecca."
A silent moment passed and suddenly Claudette opened the door, her cheeks beet red.
"What was Preston doing in your room at this hour?" Rebecca asked.
"Preston? You mean Mr. Lodge? What do you mean in my room? I haven't seen him this morning. I
only just woke up." She quickly buttoned up her bathrobe.
She was lying through her teeth, and Rebecca saw right through it. She eyed her perceptively.
"Claudette, did you….have you…? What's Mother going to think?"
"Don't you dare breathe a word to Mother," she snapped. "It's none of her business. And it's none
of yours either!" She headed to her washbasin and filled it with water from the pitcher. "I'm a
grown woman, quite capable of making my own decisions."
"But you're…you're not married!" Rebecca gasped. "Are you going to marry him?"
"No," Claudette said firmly. "No I'm not."
"Claudette, you're going to scandalize everything you worked so hard to rebuild."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Rebecca," Claudette retorted. "Please don't offer it." She
glanced at her. "What are you doing up anyway? Besides snooping around in my private affairs."
"Oh. Well, Brian just came by to tell me. Sully hasn't found Michaela yet."
"What?" she breathed. "But she's been gone since yesterday! The baby's with her!"
"I know. And I'm getting worried. Mother's at the homestead with the children all by herself. I told
Brian we would head right over."
"Yes, certainly. Just let me get dressed."
Around noon Peterson spotted an armed man approaching them on the road. His shiny badge
reflecting in the sunlight.
"Damn it," Peterson muttered, pulling the wagon to a stop.
Michaela roused from a light sleep. "What is it?" she murmured.
"Get up here. Sit up next to me. Bring the baby, too."
"Why?"
"Just do it!" he shouted.
Michaela eyed him fearfully and got up, holding the baby tightly to her chest and making her way
awkwardly over the back of the wagon seat. She sat next to him and watched the rider approach.
"Now, for all intents and purposes you're my wife and we're just takin' a Sunday drive out to
Denver, all right?" He jabbed her in the ribs. "Ya got it?"
"Yes, yes," she murmured unsteadily.
The man galloped up to him and pulled back on the reins. "Mornin', folks. Sorry to disturb ya."
"Howdy, sheriff. Somethin' we can do for you?" Peterson replied.
"I'm Eli Jacobs, sheriff for Douglas County. We're on the lookout for an outlaw we think might still
be around these parts."
"What's he done?" Peterson asked.
"Well, among other things we have our suspicions he might have killed Marshal Whitmore last
night."
"Marshal Whitmore? No, he got himself killed?" Peterson echoed.
"Afraid so."
"What's this outlaw look like?" Peterson asked.
The sheriff pulled out a telegram from his pocket. "Six foot, two-hundred pounds. Dark hair and
eyes."
"Well, you're lookin' at him, sheriff," Peterson said with a chuckle.
The sheriff chuckled back. "I reckon so. I take it you folks ain't come across anything."
"No, can't say as we have."
The sheriff looked at Michaela a long moment, a little taken aback by her troubled expression.
"Ma'am, is everything all right?"
Michaela felt Peterson press the tip of his knife into her back. "Yes, sheriff. I'm fine."
"She's fine. We both just been a little tired. New baby in the house," Peterson added with a smile.
"Oh, right. Congratulations." He stopped short. "Wait a minute. I almost didn't recognize you. You're
Dr. Quinn!"
"Oh. I'm sorry, have we met?" Michaela replied.
"Epidemic back in seventy-two up in Highlands Ranch. Town didn't have a doc at the time. You rode
all the way up there with a shipment of quinine, saved a lot of lives."
"Oh, yes, I remember now," she replied. "Influenza."
"Done came down with it myself. You saved my life."
"That's what she does," Peterson spoke up, glancing at the sun.
He cleared his throat. "Well, I won't keep you. But be careful out here. This man's armed. You see
anything suspicious you report it to the closest authorities."
"You can count on it, sheriff," Peterson replied, gathering up the reins and slapping them hard.
Sully, Matthew and William led their horses down to the creek to water them.
Sully patted Buck's shoulder and heaved a quiet sigh. Not one sign of Michaela all day.
"Sully, she's gonna turn up," Matthew said quietly. "We'll find her. Maybe she just busted a wheel,
had to walk to the next town for help."
"Something's wrong, Matthew," he murmured. "More than just a busted wheel."
"Sully, Matthew!" William suddenly called from a few paces away. "Look at this?"
They rushed to him and crouched down beside him.
William pressed his fingers to the ground where there were a few dark spots in the dust. "That looks
like blood to me."
Sully touched the ground.
"That could be his. Peterson's," Matthew said. "Hank thinks he shot him."
"He mighta come down here to wash up," Sully said as he stood up and examined the ground.
"Boot prints. Somebody been here pretty recent."
"Looks like we're on the right trail," Matthew said, standing up and grabbing his horse's reins. "Come
on, let's go."
Michaela watched Peterson build up the fire as she finished nursing the baby. Then she lifted the
baby over her shoulder and patted her back.
"How long until we get there?" she asked tentatively.
"You'll know when we're there," he replied.
"What do you plan to do?"
He laid another log on the fire. "Stop askin' questions. I can't tell you anything and you know it."
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because it's better hostages don't know anything, that's why."
"What does it matter? I already know enough to send you to jail for the rest of your life."
He was silent a long moment, then he sat back. "Parker."
"Who?"
"Not who. It's a town. Parker, Colorado. We'll be there tomorrow. My brother's in prison there. Two
of us are headin' down to Mexico once I get him out."
"How?"
"That's where you come in."
She let out a helpless chuckle. "You can't really think that's going to work. How exactly do you plan
to use me to get him out?"
He eyed her impatiently, laying another log on the fire.
She shook her head. "You think you're going to threaten to kill me and then they're just going to let
him out? They're not going to care about me. They'll just shoot you right there. Both of us if they
have to. My son's a sheriff and no sheriff would ever let someone out of jail who's supposed to be
there, hostage or not."
"Why don't you just let me worry about that," he retorted. He pulled out some jerky and gnawed on
one of the end.
She chuckled again and tears suddenly formed in her eyes.
"Shut up!" he spat.
The tears slipped down her cheeks. "We're both going to die tomorrow if you go through with this.
Please don't do this. Please, there must be another way."
"I know what I'm doin'! Stop tryin' to tell me what to do and go to sleep!"
"Please don't do this," she pleaded.
"Stop talking. Go to sleep," he ordered.
Rebecca carried a tray with a kettle and some teacups into the sitting room. Elizabeth and Claudette
were in the wingback chairs trying to remain optimistic after a long, quiet day and no word from the
search party yet.
Rebecca put the tray down and turned the cups over, then picked up the tea kettle. "How would
you like your tea?" she asked, glancing up.
"Cream and sugar for me, please, dear," Elizabeth said.
"No cream for me," Claudette said. "You know how I can't handle it."
Elizabeth rested her hands in her lap and glanced at the clock. "I can't believe she's been gone
nearly two nights now. I just can't imagine what could have happened."
"Well, it's typical of this family," Claudette remarked. "Always disappearing when something
important is about to happen. Brian's going to have to postpone his wedding once again just for
her."
"Michaela certainly never intended to be gone like this," Rebecca remarked as she passed Elizabeth
her tea. "No, I'm certain she's been delayed for reasons out of her control."
"Oh, when I think about her and the poor baby out there somewhere," Elizabeth murmured
fearfully.
"There's no use worrying," Rebecca said. "Sully and William will find her. They won't quit until they
do."
"Yes, you're right," Elizabeth said. "I need to stop worrying." She cleared her throat and took a sip
of her tea. "Mr. Lodge is going to wonder where you two are tonight."
"Well, no matter," Rebecca said. "We need to stay here right now. We'll still pay him for the rooms."
"How is he anyway, Claudette?" Elizabeth asked. "Mr. Lodge."
Claudette stirred her tea and pretended not to hear her.
"Claudette?"
"What?" she blurted.
"Mr. Lodge? How is he?"
"Well, he's fine I presume. Why, is there something wrong?"
Elizabeth eyed her curiously. "Nothing, dear. It's just, the two of you were inseparable the last time
you were out here. I would have thought he would be thrilled to see you and spend time with you
again."
"Mother, that was ages ago."
"Still, I can't imagine he hasn't at least tried to talk to you." Elizabeth stared her down a long
moment. "So have you?"
"Have we what?" Claudette blurted.
"Talked."
Claudette shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes, we've, we've…talked. Briefly. My goodness, it's warm in
here!" She grabbed her fan from off the table and fanned her neck.
Elizabeth shared a glance with Rebecca. Her oldest daughter did her best not to give anything away,
but Elizabeth's instincts suddenly told her something was off. She looked at Claudette again. "Oh,
good gracious. No, you didn't!"
Claudette dropped her spoon and it went crashing to the floor. She quickly bent to pick it up, then
raised her head and gave Rebecca a piercing look. "You told her! So much for sisterly confidences!"
"No, it wasn't me!" Rebecca said. "I haven't said a word."
"Tell me what?" Elizabeth demanded, glaring at Rebecca. "What haven't you told me? Why am I
always the last one to know everything?"
"Mother, I truly don't want to be involved in this-" Rebecca began.
"They slept together!" she cried. "They did! I can see it all across her face! Good Lord, you actually
slept with him."
"Mother, really!" Claudette exclaimed.
"When, how?" Elizabeth demanded. "Oh, Claudette, what are you doing?"
"All right, we did," she admitted. "But it was an accident. It was innocent."
"Oh, an innocent accident! Well then," Elizabeth retorted. "Claudette, have you gone mad? You must
marry him immediately. No, I won't let you make the mistakes that your sister made, God rest her
soul."
"Mother-" Rebecca said helplessly.
"Rebecca, this is between me and Claudette!" Elizabeth snapped.
"Marjorie was a grown woman, and so am I," Claudette retorted. "If I wish to invite a man into my
bedroom I can do so any time I like."
"Oh, no. Oh, no. Where did I go wrong?" Elizabeth muttered despairingly. "I can't believe this. You
of all my daughters, Claudette. I never would have dreamed. No, I absolutely insist that you marry
him at once. How am I supposed to explain this to everyone? This is scandalous."
"I'm willing to marry him. If he agrees to move to Boston," Claudette said, taking a sip of tea.
"You know he's never going to do that! He said so himself!" Elizabeth cried.
"Well, I suppose we're not getting married then, are we?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Then at least cease immediately with whatever you've been doing! Do
you know what's going to happen to you if word gets back to Boston about this? Your fine
reputation scattered to the wind. You know how hard we all worked to help you reenter society
after Charles' death. Claudette, that was a very trying time on your mother."
"You should take care to be discreet, Claudette," Rebecca said gently. "If this is what you're
choosing to do."
"Trying time for you!" Claudette retorted. "What about me? I'm tired of being locked away in that
stuffy townhouse all night with Mollie three thousand miles away and William always busy with
school and no one to talk to. Mother, I never feel lonely when Preston's with me. He makes me
feel….feel alive. I'll do whatever I please and you can't stop me."
"Oh, Claudette, I don't want you to be lonely," Elizabeth murmured. "Of course not. But this is not
the proper way to go about combating loneliness!"
"Don't you think I know that? I never intended this. It just…happened."
"It just happened!" Elizabeth cried. "Explain to me how something like that just happens!"
"Keep your voice down. The children are sleeping," Claudette scolded.
"Gran'ma?" Byron called from the stairwell. "I can't sleep. Aunties?"
Claudette got up and walked to the stairs. "What's wrong, dear?"
"I can't fall asleep. I keep thinkin' about Mama. And Eliza."
"They're fine. Your father's going to bring them home."
"Promise?" he whispered.
"I promise. Come, let me take you back upstairs."
He held onto her hand and she helped him back up to his bedroom.
Matthew headed up the front of the search party while Sully and William followed close behind. He
spotted another lawman riding toward them at full speed.
The other sheriff slowed his horse to a stop in front of the men. "Howdy, folks. Sheriff Jacobs.
Douglas County," he said, shaking Matthew's hand.
"Matthew Cooper. Colorado Springs' sheriff."
He removed his hat. "You out lookin' for Gray Peterson?"
"That's right."
"Seen anything?" William asked.
He looked behind him. "Well, not a sign of him back that way. I suspect he may have headed north
as a decoy. Maybe turned back south thereafter, headed down toward New Mexico."
"My wife's been missin' since yesterday," Sully spoke up. "We think he might have run into her. She
was on the same road."
"Yesterday, huh? Well, it's possible. No tellin' what a man like that is capable of." He put his hat
back on. "I think you should double back. There's nothin' back there."
"Nobody's seen a thing?" Sully asked.
"Nope. I talked to folks as far back as the old Stage Road. Ran into Dr. Quinn there and she said
she ain't seen a soul."
"Wait, you said you saw Dr. Quinn?" Matthew blurted.
"Where?" Sully demanded.
"Well, like I said, on the Stage Road. Headed north. She was takin' a drive with her husband. Why?"
"No, Michaela is who we're looking for," William explained.
"She's my wife. Michaela's my wife," Sully said frantically.
"Dr. Quinn's your wife? But…oh, no. I think she was with Peterson. She had to be. He fooled me
into thinkin' they were a couple just our for a drive! He must have your wagon."
"He's got her, Sully," William said.
"How long ago ya see 'em?" Sully demanded.
"Awhile. Early this morning," he said. "No tellin' where they are now."
"Let's go back to where ya saw 'em, go from there," Matthew said.
"She had a baby with her, sheriff," Eli said.
Sully nodded. "That's our daughter. She's seven weeks old."
"What are we waiting for? Let's go," he replied, turning his horse around abruptly.
Peterson pulled the wagon to a stop in the middle of the road. Then he circled in front of Flash and
began unhitching her.
"What are you doing?" Michaela demanded.
"Parker's about a mile up ahead. We need to ride in on horseback."
Michaela was too afraid to ask what he intended to do with the baby. She lifted up the basket and
placed it beside her, drawing it close and reaching inside to rub her belly while she watched
Peterson unhitch the wagon.
At last he had Flash unhitched and he returned to the wagon.
"Get down," he ordered. "Now!"
She climbed down and moved to lift Eliza out of the basket, but Peterson stopped her, grabbing her
arm.
"Not her. She's stayin' behind now."
"No!" she cried.
He pulled her away but she held onto the side of the wagon with strength she didn't know he had.
"No, I'm not leaving without her!"
He tried to pry Michaela away from the wagon but her grip was solid and he was weak from his
injury. "Come on. Let go, woman!"
"No, I'm not leaving her!" she cried. "I'm not leaving! I'm not leaving!"
He tugged on her hard and managed to yank her away from the wagon. Michaela immediately
collapsed to the ground and clawed at it, desperately trying to get back to the wagon. Peterson had
to drag her nearly every inch by the arm, and she fought him every step of the way.
"Stop it!" he finally ordered, shaking her arm hard. "Stop or I'll kill her!"
Michaela was nearly hysterical now, pulling against him with all her might and crying and moaning
for her baby. She shifted around and spat in his face vehemently. "Let me go!"
He growled and wiped off his face. "Listen to me! Listen!" he said, shaking her again. "Either you
cooperate and ride with me into town, or I can just kill her right now." He withdrew his gun and
pointed it at the wagon, cocking it. "Which would you like?"
"No!" she cried in terror. "No, please don't kill my baby!"
"Then get up!" he retorted.
She quickly got to her feet. "I'll go. I'll go with you. I'll do what you say."
"When this is over I'll let ya go. You can come back and get her," he said. "Ya got my word."
Michaela didn't trust him for a moment. It made no sense to let her go at this point. She knew and
had seen far too much. But she had to have hope he might keep his word. "Just don't kill her, don't
kill her," she begged. "Oh, my God. Please."
"You do what I tell ya and I won't," he barked.
Michaela looked back at Eliza mournfully. She was petrified of all the dangers of the woods that
could befall a baby left alone, not to mention being exposed to the warm sun like that all afternoon.
Even if Peterson did let her go like he said, Eliza could die of heat stroke and dehydration before
Michaela ever made it back to her. Her heart was breaking to leave her behind, but she had no
choice. At least this way there would be a chance someone might come along and find her in there.
But if she didn't listen to Peterson and stop fighting him she knew full well he would make good on
his promise and shoot the baby right then and be done with it. She let out a low, long sob of regret,
hot tears slipping down her cheeks. "My baby," she whimpered helplessly.
"Good, we understand each other," he said, putting his revolver back into the holster and leading
her over to Flash. He mounted the horse and then hoisted her up behind him. Then he grabbed the
reins and kicked Flash hard with his boots. The horse whinnied and took off in a gallop toward town.
Michaela looked behind them at the wagon, watching it grow smaller and smaller until she couldn't
see it anymore . She prayed with all she had that a kind stranger would come across the baby very
soon and rescue her from what was sure to be certain death.
to be continued...
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Blood Ties
BeckyH
Author of 7 Stories
EE 26.Chapter
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Chapter Twenty-six
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Sully, Matthew, William and Sheriff Jacobs were galloping north, hoping they were on the right trail,
when they spotted an abandoned wagon up ahead. As they got closer, Sully's face fell with
realization.
"That's our wagon. That's the wagon," he said, clicking at his horse.
As soon as the men reached it they leaped down from their horses.
Sully cupped his hands around his mouth. "Michaela! Michaela!"
"Sully, look!" William exclaimed as he reached inside and pulled out the basket. Sully rushed to him,
shocked to find the baby. She was somehow asleep, and didn't appear to be hurt in the slightest.
He lifted her out, holding her close. "Eliza. Oh, sweet girl. Sweet girl. You all right? Where's your
mama, huh?"
"Dr. Mike wouldn't of left her," Matthew said resolutely as he circled the wagon looking for clues.
Sully shook his head, rubbing the baby's back. He was immensely relieved they had found the baby,
but he couldn't imagine what had happened to Michaela. He feared deep down she would sooner
die than leave the baby alone like this. Something was terribly, horribly wrong.
"Looks like their mighta been a struggle," Eli said as he studied the ground.
Sully and William walked over to get a look. There were several boot prints, some of them very
deep as if someone had planted their feet not wanting to move. Sully thought he even saw what
looked to be fingers clawing at the ground.
"Flash is gone. Maybe he has Michaela and Flash," William speculated. "He decided he couldn't use
the wagon anymore for one reason or another."
The baby woke up and began to fuss. There was no telling how long she had gone without food.
Sully wasn't even sure Michaela was still alive. "Matthew, ya take your baby sister back to her
gran'ma."
"Sully, we may not be far behind now," Matthew said. "I don't think the baby's been here by herself
long. She wasn't even crying."
"I don't want her with us when we find him. She could get hurt. Ya gotta take her back. Elizabeth'll
give her a bottle. Matthew, I trust ya to get her home safe."
"Sully's right," William said. "The baby needs to go straight back to town."
Matthew heaved a sigh. "All right. I'll take her back."
"Let's get ya a fresh blanket to wrap her in," he said, walking to his saddle bag.
"Sully, you be careful," Matthew said. "Whoever this man is … sounds like he'll stop at nothin'."
Sully, William and Eli galloped toward the outskirts of Parker. It was an old mining town, quiet and
peaceful, with a way station, post office, and general store. There was also a little schoolhouse at
one end of town. And at the other end was the jail.
"It's Flash!" Sully said, pointing down the street at Michaela's horse lingering outside the bank. "Let's
go."
William shielded his eyes. "All right, Sully, take it easy. If she's in there we can't go storming in there
like this. That man's armed, remember?"
"We'll surround the place, draw 'em out," Eli said.
William dismounted. "Leave our horses here. We better go on foot."
"Gray, what're ya doin'?" the man behind bars blurted as Peterson burst into the little room with
Michaela in tow.
"Gettin' you out, brother." He pointed the gun to Michaela's head and glared at the deputy sitting at
his desk. "Where're the keys? Get 'em!"
"Now take it easy, friend," the deputy said, raising his hands in the air. "What's all this about?"
"Don't matter what it's about. Just get the keys," he growled. "You wanna see this lady die or don't
ya?"
"All right, all right, I'm gettin' 'em," the deputy said as he reached for the drawer in his desk.
"Hold it!" Peterson ordered. "I'll get the keys. Where are they?"
"Top drawer there," he said.
"Back up. Real easy like," Peterson said. "And don't try anything."
The deputy slowly moved back a few paces, keeping his hands in the air. Peterson dragged Michaela
to the desk and lowered his gun for just a moment to open the drawer.
"Let her go!" Sully suddenly shouted as he thrust open the back door brandishing his tomahawk.
"Sully!" Michaela cried.
"Nobody move!" Sheriff Jacobs shouted from behind Sully.
Peterson raised his gun and shot at them, and Sully and the sheriff dived out of the way.
"No!" Michaela screamed. She tried to run to Sully, but Peterson's grip on her arm was iron.
"Don't move!" William shouted from the front door. He pointed his rifle at Peterson. "Let her go right
now."
Peterson held Michaela all the closer. "I will, soon as I get my brother out."
"One more move and I'll shoot you!" William said.
"One more move from you and I'll shoot her," he said, thrusting the gun hard against Michaela's
temple.
"William, no," Michaela whispered.
"Shh, be quiet," he murmured.
"William, he'll kill us both," she pleaded.
William took a step forward and Peterson immediately pointed his gun at him and shot.
Michaela screamed just as the deputy pulled out a revolver from his belt holster and shot Peterson
in the chest while Eli shot him with his rifle at exactly the same time. Peterson let go of Michaela
and slumped to the floor.
"Michaela!" Sully called as he rushed into the room.
"Sully, did he shoot you?" she cried, running into his arms.
"No. No he didn't," he said, stroking her hair. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
The sheriff felt Peterson's neck. "Dead."
"William," Michaela said, breaking away from Sully and rushing to his side.
William slowly sat up, clutching his side. He removed his hand to reveal some blood, but the bullet
had merely grazed his skin.
"I'm all right," he murmured. "I'm all right."
Michaela hugged him tightly. "Oh, thank God."
"Are you hurt?" he asked. "Are you all right, Michaela?"
"Yes, I'm all right," she said. She got back to her feet. "Sully, the baby. The baby's out there, the
baby." She shook her head desperately and burst into tears. "He was going to kill her if I didn't
leave her behind. Oh, my God. Sully."
"Michaela, she's fine," he said, grabbing her arms.
"No, she's out there all alone!" she cried.
He gave her a gentle shake. "Michaela, listen to me. We found her. We found her. She's safe. She's
with Matthew. She's safe."
"She's safe?" she cried.
"She's safe," he murmured, stroking her hair and giving her forehead a kiss. "Baby's safe. Eliza's
safe."
"Oh, thank God," she said, nearly collapsing into his arms.
He held her tightly and rocked her. "You're both safe."
William sat on the edge of the dining room table and Michaela finished cleaning his wound.
"I'll just wrap it up for you and then you can get some rest," Michaela said. "It should heal within a
few weeks."
"Here's some hot tea," Sully said as he approached him with a teacup. The baby was sleeping over
his shoulder, content as ever. In fact she appeared all but unaffected by the entire ordeal.
"Thank you, son," he murmured.
Sully gently clutched his arm. "William, I owe ya a lot of thanks. For helpin' me bring Michaela and
the baby back home."
William looked up and blinked a few times. "I already lost my first family. I wasn't going to lose this
one."
Sully gave Eliza a gentle kiss. "Here, why don't ya hold her? Hold your granddaughter."
William put his cup aside and gathered the baby in his arms. "My goodness, I don't think your
grandfather's ever held someone as tiny as you."
"It's Grandpa, sweetheart," Michaela said, tenderly stroking her hair. "It's your grandpa."
"You were never this small, Sully," William spoke up softly. "At least not that I remember. You were
a robust little thing. Quite big when you were born. Your poor mother."
"Kinda small for my age as I grew up. Like Byron," he murmured.
"I'm sorry I missed those growing up years, son. I'm sorry," he replied, meeting his eyes tearfully.
Sully swallowed hard. "What did you say in your letter?" he whispered. He felt Michaela grasp his
hand reassuringly.
"My letter?"
"The one ya wrote to me awhile back. About why ya left. I didn't read it."
William took a deep breath. "You're sure you want to hear this?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I wanna give ya a chance to tell me what happened. I'm ready."
He took a deep breath. "Where to begin? America wasn't quite the place I envisioned. I thought it
would be easy to build a good life here. I was very wrong."
William kept his arm around Katherine's waist to steady her as they disembarked from the ship
down the steep gangplank. She had their newborn son tucked against her chest and was holding
their other son's hand tightly.
"Take it slow. We're going to be unsteady on our feet at first," William cautioned.
"Whoa, Papa!" Will said with a giggle as he stumbled forward. "In Mer-ca the ground shakes!"
He chuckled and caressed his head. "That's just because we've been on the ship so long, son. It'll
stop soon."
He guided his family through the swarms of passengers, sailors, merchants and policemen to a long
line. They were required to immediately pay a visit to the Collector of Customs before they could
enter the country. All immigrants entering America had to declare anything they had of value and be
received by a state official. Other passengers on the ship had told them about the process and
helped William fill out the necessary customs papers before they docked.
"So many people," Katherine said fearfully. "It's so crowded."
"Don't worry. We're going to the countryside. Up north. It won't be crowded there."
Katherine watched overwhelmed as sailors began unloading body bags from a lower gangplank. A
dozen people had succumbed to disease or the cold weather on the way over, mostly children and
the elderly. It had been a hard, long voyage.
William followed her gaze. "Don't look. Don't watch that. Please don't look, darling."
She reluctantly faced forward. "Poor souls. God give them rest."
"Papers? Show your papers!" a customs worker suddenly demanded, grabbing William's arm and
yanking him up to a table where a customs officer was sorting through a huge assortment of
paperwork and checking and rechecking the ship's manifest.
"Have your papers ready when you approach the collection area!" the worker shouted, cupping his
hands around his mouth.
The officer grabbed William's paperwork out of his hand and quickly skimmed it. He checked their
names off the manifest with a thick pen.
"William Sully, Katherine Sully, William Sully the third," he said. "There's only three of you listed
here."
Katherine feared for a moment they might separate her from the baby, or that babies weren't
allowed to be born on ships, or that they would be sent home. She clutched Byron as tightly as she
could. Part of her almost wished they would be rejected. America was turning out to be a very
frightening place thus far and she missed England dreadfully already.
"Yes, sir. We're four now. Our son was born on the journey," William explained.
"The child's name?"
"Byron."
He scratched down the name. "Nothing to declare?" he barked.
Will cowered against his mother's skirts and stared at the intimidating bureaucrat.
"No, sir. Just the small amount of cash we have on us, sir," William said.
"Search him," the officer ordered.
The worker stepped forward and patted William down forcefully. William tried to stay calm and not
frighten Katherine as the man emptied out all his pockets and made him open his mouth so he could
look inside.
"Nothing," the worker finally said.
"Check the girl, too," he ordered.
He patted Katherine down forcefully and she flinched and glanced at William helplessly.
"Mama!" Will protested. "Leave Mama alone!"
"Hush, Will," Katherine scolded.
"You have anything in your mouth, lassie?" the worker demanded. "Smuggling some jewels in, are
you?" He pried open her mouth and swiped his finger inside roughly. Katherine gagged and
screeched and the baby started crying.
"Wait, stop! She has nothing!" William protested. "Katherine!"
The customs officer backed up and wiped his hand on his pant leg. "Just penniless little beggars is
all, sir. They're clean."
The man at the desk stamped their papers. "All right then. Welcome to America. Next?"
The officer prodded them on their way and William put his arm around his wife, staring at her
worriedly. "Katherine, are you all right? Are you all right, darling? I'm so sorry."
She nodded tearfully and patted the baby's back.
"Oh, my brave Katherine." He kissed her head. "We'll head to the land office now. We'll buy our
land. How does that sound?"
She attempted a smile and hugged the baby close. "Let's buy our land."
William dug his hand into a tin of thick grease and spread it liberally on the gears of the textile
machine in the middle of a noisy warehouse. He had taken on the job when he heard about a group
of factories scattered throughout Manhattan that needed men who could repair some broken
machines. He knew nothing about textile machines before taking the job, but he quickly learned
every aspect of them, and watched the machines in good working order, and discovered right away
why they were broken and set about to fix them. He always was a quick study when it came to
anything mechanical. He certainly wasn't the thinker and reader that Katherine was, and truth be
told he didn't even understand half the poetry she was always so absorbed in, but there was
nothing that he couldn't fix with a little patience and the right tools. The textile machines were no
exception.
William lathered another handful of grease on the gears. The factories were literal sweat shops, with
men, women and even children toiling away for upwards of twelve hours a day for mere pennies.
He scooped out some more grease again just as the most blood-curdling scream pierced his ears.
He dropped the tin and went running to the source of the sound. To his horror, one of the workers,
a young man probably only about fifteen, had his arm caught in one of the machine's many gears.
Several other men were trying to pull him out as blood splattered everywhere.
"Don't move!" William shouted. He quickly found the lever to shut the machine down and pulled it
toward him as hard as he could. The machine slowed to a creaking stop and the men quickly pulled
the boy from the machine.
William felt sick. The boy had lost the lower portion of his arm. Just like that he would have to get
by with only one hand the rest of his life. That was if he even survived this horrendous accident.
The boy kept screaming and writhing as blood splattered everywhere.
"Someone get a doctor! Hurry!" William ordered. He ripped off his shirt and tied it to the boy's
bloody and mangled arm. "Good lad. Stay still. We'll get you to hospital."
Katherine laid Byron in his cradle at the foot of the bed and rubbed his belly. He looked up at her
with his big blue eyes and clutched his foot in his hands, trying to pull it toward his mouth.
"Goodnight, my darling baby boy," she soothed. He cooed and smiled at her, reaching his arm up to
touch her nose. She gave his fingers some kisses and smoothed his wispy light brown hair.
"Goodnight, Byron. I love you."
She silently changed into her nightshift as William came in from doing the chores. He headed to the
washbasin next to their bed and pulled off his muddy shirt, balling it up. Then he splashed and
rubbed water down his chest and arms. He dried himself off, then reclined on his side of the bed.
Katherine gazed at him curiously. "William, what about prayers?" she murmured.
He glanced at her. He had once been a religious man. But not now. Not when this God Katherine
always wanted to thank and pray to had abandoned them at every step of the way. But for her sake
he crawled back out of bed and knelt beside her, folding his hands.
She smiled with relief and knelt beside him, bowing her head. "The Lord watch over us and our
sons while we Lord grant us strength to serve Thee and trust Thee with all our minds, hearts and
souls. Bless William and all the farmers, Lord God, and if it is your will, Lord, please make this rain
cease. We ask all these things in your name, Amen."
William got back in bed and tucked his arm under his head, gazing up at the roof as the rain hit it
unremittingly. "Well, I could chop wood all winter long and sell it. Perhaps that would be enough to
get us through until next year." He lightly patted her place beside him. "Come to bed."
Katherine folded her dress and quietly put it away in the chest of drawers. "Darling? There's
something I need to tell you."
He drew the covers up to his chest tiredly and opened his eyes. "What is it then?"
She bit her lip. "William, we'll soon be welcoming another one into our fold."
He stared at her in disbelief.
"I'm in the family way," she said. She cleared her throat. "William? William, say something."
"You said it wasn't supposed to happen as long as you were nursing the child!" he exclaimed,
gesturing at the baby asleep in his cradle.
She stared back at him. "It's not. But it just did anyway."
He pressed one hand to his head, overwhelmed. "Katherine. Oh, Kath. Oh, this can't be. Are you
certain? Absolutely certain?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"What are we supposed to do?" he breathed. "We're barely getting by as it is. How will we provide
for another?"
Tears suddenly fell down her cheeks. "I don't know. God will provide."
"God," he muttered. "Where was God when the grasshoppers came? Where was he when the
drought came? And where is he now with all this flooding? And now you say your God has sent us
another child?"
"You're looking at me like this is my fault," she said tearfully.
He heaved a sigh and got out of bed, clutching her arm. "Kath, I don't mean that. This child is as
much my responsibility as it is yours. I don't mean to make you cry, darling."
She nodded a little and swiped away her tears.
"I'm just frightened I suppose," he whispered. "Just when I think things are going to be all right
something else happens. I don't know what tomorrow's going to bring anymore, if I'm going to
make it through."
"If we are. We're in this together."
He regarded her quietly a long moment, then squeezed her shoulder. "I need to take a walk, clear
my head. Goodnight."
She watched him go, then got into bed and cried quietly until she fell asleep.
"You sayin' Ma was pregnant?" Sully murmured.
"Yes," William replied. "That's what put me in such a panic. I thought, well, if it were just you two
boys we might manage. But another? I just knew the farm could never support us all. I was
beginning to think if they were going to put me in debtor's prison anyway perhaps it would be best
if I disappeared altogether."
Katherine hunched over the pot of stew bubbling over the fire and slowly added a few cups of water
to it. She had to add more water to their supper every day, to thin it out and make it feed three
people. She had tried giving William and Will most of the portions, leaving herself with only a few
bites to sustain her. William needed the strength to work the farm and Will needed it to grow
properly, but within a matter of days her milk had slowed and wasn't filling up the baby. He fussed
relentlessly until she started eating again and her milk returned. She would need to nurse him as
long as she could. She didn't know what they were going to do once they had Byron to feed, too.
Byron was crying again, curled up on the middle of the bed where she had set him down so she
could tend to supper.
Will took a seat beside his little brother and studied him intently. "Mama, he's crying," he called, to
be sure she knew.
" I hear, Will," she replied. "Watch that he doesn't roll himself off the bed and I'll be there in a
minute."
She added another cup of water to the stew, then wiped her hands on a towel and walked to the
bed, lifting the infant into her arms and kissing him soothingly as William opened the door.
He was covered in sweat and dirt and his face was downcast. Another day toiling to salvage as
much of the crops as he could. It had rained far too much that summer, and it had all but
destroyed everything. The ground barely had time to dry out before another storm sprang up. They
both knew it was going to be a bad year well before harvest time.
William didn't even acknowledge her or the children as he tiredly sat at their little table. It hurt her
the way he was so callous, but she felt sorry for him. America was not the land that had filled their
dreams. It was no better than England. In fact, she was beginning to think it was worse than
England.
" I'll have some supper," he said quietly.
" Wash your hands and face first," she told him. "You're a mess."
" Can't you make him stop? I've never heard of a baby who fussed so much."
" He's colicky, William," she said, desperately rubbing Byron's back. "He can't help it."
He trooped over to the basin and washed up
Will tentatively approached his father, hands clasped behind him. "Mama taught me a song."
William dabbed his face with a towel, not replying.
" Wanna hear, Pa?" the child asked eagerly.
" Not now," William muttered.
Will eyed him disconcertedly and his lower lip trembled.
" Will, sit at the table now," Katherine spoke up, approaching the pot of stew. "It's time to eat." She
shifted the baby to her hip and dished up three bowlfuls of stew. Then she took a seat beside Will
and tucked his napkin beneath his collar.
William picked up his fork and put it in the stew.
" We'll thank the Lord for this food, William," Katherine suddenly said, eyeing him sternly.
" What's there to be thankful for?" he replied.
She swallowed hard. "We have shelter, a fire, two fine sons and something to put in our bellies,
meager as it is. We'll thank the Lord."
Reluctantly, he dropped his fork into the bowl.
Katherine closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Bless this food we are about to receive. May it
nourish and strengthen our bodies to do thy good works. Bless our family, and make this horrible
rain stop. Amen."
" Amen," Will echoed quietly. He had stared at his father the whole time, watching as William stared
forward.
William dug into his food, polishing off most of it within minutes. Katherine ate more slowly. Tending
to the boys preoccupied her at meals. They ate in silence, until William put down his fork, folded his
hands beneath his chin and let out a giant sigh.
" Crops are gone," he whispered.
Katherine stopped wiping Will's face and looked at him. Finally, she forced a cheerful smile. "There's
next year."
" I won't do it again, Kath. I can't do it."
"You can take on more odd jobs in the city," she suggested. "We'll get through."
"I can't go back there, Kath. That city. I hate that city."
"William, darling, I know. But it's only for a little while. Just to get us back on our feet. That textile
company, that was a nice job."
"I didn't drag you and our boys all the way across the ocean to work in some textile factory,
Katherine!"
She was silent a long moment, not sure how to respond.
"I've got to leave," he said at last.
" Leave?" she echoed.
" I hear there's work out West, clearing land in Ohio, Tennessee."
" We just got here. We're supposed to pack up and move again?"
" No, you and the boys stay here. I'll send you my wages."
Katherine grew quiet, her appetite suddenly gone. William continued to eat, staring at the food.
" Don't go, William," she said at last.
He stood up abruptly. "I've got to pack. I leave at first light."
Will stared up at him, confusion all across his face. Suddenly the baby started crying again, and
Katherine busied herself calming him, bravely holding back tears of her own.
Katherine watched William pack up his saddle bag and secure it to his horse.
"I'll send word as soon as I'm settled," he remarked softly.
"William, please. Let us come with you. Let me help."
"You can't."
"William, please!" she cried.
"From what I hear of Ohio, it's no place for a woman and young children."
She grabbed his arm as he tried to saddle his horse. "William, don't leave us here. Don't leave me
here. Please don't leave me here."
He pried her off and got onto his horse, gathering the reins.
"William, don't leave me!" she cried. She grabbed onto his calf and held on for dear life.
"Let go of me!" he shouted. "Let go, woman!"
She backed up in defeat. "Oh, William. Please. Please. It doesn't have to happen like this."
"I'll send you and the boys every cent, Katherine. I promise," he said. He turned his horse around
and galloped out to the road.
"William!" she screamed. She fell to her knees in the dirt, sobbing as she watched him disappear
into the woods.
Her oldest son watched her shyly from the doorway, still in his nightshift. He rubbed his eyes.
"Mama?" he whispered. He approached her and cupped her arm with his little hand. "Mama."
"Oh, Will," she replied, sniffling and gathering him into his arms. "Everything's all right. Shh."
"Where's Papa go to?"
"He'll be back soon. Hush now."
He kissed her flushed cheek. "Shh, it's all wight, Mama. It's all wight."
"Oh," she replied tearfully. She picked him up and held him close, rocking him.
William passed the baby to Michaela and gave her dark hair a gentle caress.
"I sent Katherine all my money like I said I would, those first few months," William said. "I found a
job as a logger outside Columbus, clearing land." He sighed. "Then the company went bankrupt and
I was out of work for awhile. I made barely enough at odd jobs to sustain myself. By the time I
found more steady work again, a few years had passed and I'd completely lost touch with her. I felt
ashamed to contact her again." He folded his arms. "I thought perhaps she must have met someone
else by now. Even if she hadn't, I didn't think she would take me back after all that time. I had
made such of mess of it all, I just wanted to forget and move on with my life."
Sully gently squeezed Michaela's hand. William was clearly reliving a lot of heartache as he retold his
story.
William exhaled slowly. "I see now why your mother told you I was dead. Why would she have
wanted to tell you that you had a father like me? It was about twelve years later, the guilt was so
overwhelming I just had to find out what had happened to the three of you. So I made my way
back to New York in search of you. The farm was gone, burned to the ground in a fire. I found the
preacher and his wife, and they told me what happened after I left."
Katherine opened a flask of whiskey and managed to gulp down another sip. She was balled up in
bed, clutching her belly. Byron was whimpering softly in his cradle and Will was playing with his
blocks in front of the fireplace. She had awoken very early that morning to hard, painful cramping
low in her abdomen. Hemorrhaging had followed shortly after, enough to soak a few towels. She
knew exactly what it was. The same thing had happened to her mother several years before, when
Katherine was about thirteen. Being the oldest and being a girl, it had been up to Katherine to tend
to her and take care of her. Mary had been very calm throughout the process, just staying in bed
and instructing her daughter to bring her more brandy or some fresh cloths. Then after about four
hours the worst of it was over. Mary rested in bed for a day or so and then got up and went on with
their normal routines as if nothing had happened.
Katherine just kept praying that it would be quick for her as well, that she would be able to let go of
everything easily and that it wouldn't be too painful. She had two sons to care for who needed her
to recover as quickly as possible.
"Mama? I'm hungry. I'm really hungry." Will approached the bed and watched her curiously.
"Mm. All right. Do you think you could make yourself some bread and jam?"
"I can't reach," he said a bit tearfully.
She caressed his face. He was so precious with his rosy cheeks and disheveled blond hair. He was
still in his nightshift. Katherine had been too weak to get out of bed and help him get ready for the
day. She just told him to play with his blocks and he had done so obediently. "I'll get you
something. Mama will get you something."
She carefully made her way out of bed and shuffled across the room. She took down the loaf of
bread and uncovered the cheesecloth atop it, then found a knife and cut him off a thick slice. Then
she buttered it and spread some raspberry preserves atop it, placed it in a napkin and gave it to Will
to eat.
Suddenly she hunched over and grabbed the table to keep from falling. She got down on her knees
and cried out involuntarily.
"Ma!" Will whimpered. He crouched down beside her. "Mama. Mama?"
"Go play, Will," she said breathlessly. "Go play with your blocks." She cringed again and panted. She
suddenly felt a lot of pressure between her legs. It was so uncomfortable she almost wondered if
she should try bearing down against it, but she was afraid to. She suddenly began crying, so
overwhelmed she didn't know what else to do.
Suddenly someone knocked on the door.
"No, no don't answer," she told Will firmly.
"Katherine?" a woman called through the door. "Katherine, child, it's Mrs. Dunphy. We didn't see
you and William in church today. We were worried."
Katherine rested her head against the table leg. It was the Reverend's wife, a kind middle-aged
woman who had always treated her like nothing less than a daughter. She had been so helpful
when Katherine was so far from home and missing her family dreadfully. She was truly the only
person Katherine was willing to see right now.
"Mrs. Dunphy!" Katherine called urgently.
The woman opened the door, taken aback. "Katherine? Good Lord."
"Mama's sick," Will told her, clutching one of his blocks.
"What's the matter, child? What is it?" She crouched beside her and put her arm around her.
"There's something wrong. There's something wrong with the baby," she panted, clutching her
stomach.
"Baby? You're with child?"
She nodded.
Mrs. Dunphy's face fell and she tenderly rubbed the girl's back. She too realized the outcome of all
of this was not going to be good. "Can you make it back to the bed, Katherine? Lean on me." She
helped her to her feet and wrapped her arm around her waist. Then she tucked her under the
covers and began scrounging up water and towels and more whiskey.
"Where's William?" Mrs. Dunphy asked.
"I don't know," Katherine whispered.
"You don't know?"
"He's gone," Katherine said tearfully, closing her eyes. "He's gone, Mrs. Dunphy."
Mrs. Dunphy sat on the bed and stroked her arm. "Oh, child. Oh." She uncorked the whiskey flask.
"Here, take a small sip. Good girl."
"Promise you won't tell anyone he ran out on us," she cried. "I'm so ashamed."
"Hush, there's nothing to be ashamed of," she admonished. "Hush now. Try to rest."
"She lost the baby?" Michaela murmured tearfully.
William nodded. "I found out about that, and then they told me about how Will had been killed
falling off his horse, and then Katherine….Katherine's accident." He buried his eyes behind one hand.
"Son, that was my fault, what happened. If only I had been there."
"Blamed myself for it for a lot of years," Sully murmured. "I couldn't keep her goin' after Will passed
on." He voice cracked. "I wasn't enough."
"No, it couldn't possibly be your fault. You were just a child," William admonished. "Please, if you
must blame someone blame me."
"It wasn't your fault either," Sully whispered. "It just happened."
"That was Katherine's choice," Michaela said tearfully. "She made the choice."
"It was her choice," Sully echoed softly as a hot tear slipped down his cheek. It was the first time he
had really acknowledged and come to terms with the fact that his mother's suicide was something
out of his and everyone else's control, and that she was responsible for the decision she made to
end her life. There was no use trying to blame it on anyone else now. Katherine was gone and she
wasn't coming back, but her legacy would live on.
"I want you to know that I tried. I tried for years to find you again," William said. "The Dunphies
told me you were placed in an orphanage in the city. So the first thing I did was head straight
there."
William touched his fingers to the dirty wooden plaque outside the building. Orphan Asylum for
Destitute and Abandoned Boys, it read. Founded 1838. He picked up the brass knocker and tapped
it firmly. A younger boy wandered up the porch dragging a toy wooden puppy by the leash.
"You wanna adopt, mister?" he asked softly. "You can adopt me."
An older boy about fifteen sauntered up the stoop chewing on the end of a stick. "Harry, leave the
man alone."
"What? Maybe he wants to adopt," he replied defensively.
William gave him a small, kind smile. "I'm sorry, I can't," he murmured.
A woman in a gray uniform and cap opened the door. "Good afternoon. How may we help you?"
"Good afternoon, I'm William Sully. My wife passed away a few years ago and I was told my boy
was placed in here."
"Oh, what's your son's name?"
"Byron. Byron Sully."
She wrinkled her brow. "Hmm. I don't recall any boy by that name. But come, we'll meet with the
headmaster and check our records."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," he replied gratefully as she led him inside.
"Well, there's no Byron Sully here now," the headmaster said as he flipped through some files in a
large filing cabinet.
"Could he have been transferred to another orphanage?" William asked impatiently as he stood at
the desk.
"No, we don't transfer children. They may only leave if they've been formally adopted or have
reached the age of majority," he replied. "How do you spell his name again?"
"B-y-r-o-n," he said. "Byron. Like the poet."
"Byron Sully, Byron Sully," he murmured as he continued to flip. "Ah, here he is!"
William stepped closer. He was surprised at how thin the file was.
"Oh, I remember now, yes," the headmaster said quietly as he returned to his desk.
"Was he adopted? Where is he?" William demanded.
The headmaster sat down and skimmed the file, flipping a few pages. He scratched the back of his
neck. "Byron Sully of Dutchess County, New York. Admitted September twenty-fifth, eighteen fortysix. Caucasian boy, seventy-two pounds, no known diseases or disorders. Birth date, December
ninth, eighteen thirty-five. Father, William Sully, deceased. Mother, Katherine Grayer Sully,
deceased."
"Yes, that's him," William said. "That's him. What happened to him? Why isn't he here?"
He flipped another page in the file. "He was reported missing a week after he came here."
"What do you mean missing?"
"Well, it appears he ran away."
"Why? How? Why didn't you stop him?"
"Mr. Sully, orphans are an unstable lot. Runaways are quite common."
"Where would he go?"
"I have no idea. I'm sorry. Perhaps he found work somewhere in the city. Or made his way down
south to Philadelphia, Baltimore. It's anyone's guess."
William stared at him in shock. He had felt so close to actually finding his son, only to be
disappointed like this.
"I wish there was more I could tell you," the headmaster said, standing up. "I wish you luck in
finding him."
William shook his head in disbelief, too disappointed to speak.
William opened the door and staggered out onto the porch, face downcast. The older boy was still
lingering on the porch, leaning against the railing.
"Mister, you have a match?" he asked.
William glanced at him and dug into his vest pocket, coming up with a small box of matches and
tossing them to him.
"Thanks," he replied, pulling out a rolled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "Hey, who was it
you said you were lookin' for?" the boy asked.
"My son," William said.
"You said his name was Byron?"
"Yes. Byron Sully."
"Was he sort of quiet? Brown hair. Must be about twelve years old now?"
William turned to face him directly. "Did you know my son?"
"I knew a Byron Sully once, couple years back. He came here after his ma passed on. Wasn't here
long though."
"Do you know why he ran away?" William replied frantically.
He shrugged. "Guess he thought he could do better on his own."
"Where'd he go? Did he say?"
"I ain't sure. I think he mentioned somethin' about the Erie Canal, had heard there might be jobs up
there workin' the docks. He was gonna try an' snitch a ride on one of the barges on the Hudson. I
don't know if he ever made it up there. That's the last I ever heard of him."
"What's your name, son?" William asked.
"Georgie," he replied. "Who wants to know?"
William dug around in his pocket until he found a dollar bill. "Take this. It's all I have."
"Thank you, mister. Thank you."
William clutched his shoulder. "Thank you, Georgie."
William took the first boat he could find straight up the Hudson river to Troy. Then he rented a
horse and went to each lock along the canal starting at the beginning, asking everyone and anyone
if they had ever seen or heard of a boy working the docks named Byron Sully.
He had stopped at three locks until he came across a canal boss who finally provided him with some
glimmer of hope.
"You mean Sully? Yeah, I knew him," the worker said as he led a mule into the stables.
"Do you know where he is?" William demanded as he followed him inside.
The worker eyed him distrustfully. "Why?"
"I'm sorry. My name is William Sully. Byron is my son."
He picked up a brush and began working it through the mule's coat. "I didn't know he had family.
He never mentioned you. I always thought his folks were dead."
"I'm afraid he's never met me," William said quietly. "At least, not that he would remember. But I'm
desperate to find him. He's all I have left of my family."
"Well, he's not here as you can see. Sully did some work for me for about three years. Good, hard
worker that boy was. Dependable. That is until he took off last month, just like everybody else."
"Took off where?"
"Where do you think? They've got gold on their minds. Gold this and gold that. Half my workers
already have gone off to Californie to try their luck. He and another boy went, too. Fools is what
they are."
"Did he say where in California?"
"Well, no. But don't gold diggers usually head to San Frisco?"
William swallowed hard. Byron was most likely two-thousand miles across the country at the
moment. If he was going to find him now, it was going to take a lot of hard work.
"What was the other boy's name?" he asked. "I need all the information I can get my hands on."
"Daniel Simon." He chuckled to himself. "Danny boy, he was the last person I expected to get
sucked into this gold business. Now, I thought that boy was smarter than that. Damn."
"Thank you for your help," William said. He put his hat back on.
"Not sure it'll do you much good," the man replied.
to be continued...
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Blood Ties
BeckyH
Author of 7 Stories
EE Light Dark
27.Chapter
Chapter
27.
27 27
Chapter Twenty-seven
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William rode his horse along Sutter creek. Scruffy and dirty men and even a few wives and children
were looking for gold in the cool water with pans and screens and handmade wooden sluices that
could sift through a large amount of dirt and rocks at a time.
It had been a hard, hot, three-month-long journey across the country. He had joined up with a
small wagon train in Pennsylvania and tagged along with them all the way to central California
where the gold rush was on.
He approached one of the men who was ankle deep in water swishing a pan around, and
dismounted his horse. "Excuse me?"
The man whipped out a pistol and pointed it at him, standing up. "Don't come any closer, stranger.
This is my claim."
William held his hands in the air. "Yes, sir. I don't want any trouble. I just wanted to ask if by
chance you've come across two young boys looking for gold. One of them is my son, Byron Sully.
He's thirteen."
He chuckled. "I've come across about two-hundred boys lookin' for gold about thirteen. Never heard
of no Byron Sully though."
"Oh. I see. Thank you then anyway."
"You could try the claim's office, about two miles up creek."
"Claim's office?"
"Right. Everybody has to file a claim legal-like with the government. At least, we're supposed to."
"Thank you." He mounted his horse and turned him around, kicking him swiftly.
The bookkeeper sorted rapidly through a pile of slips of paper as William waited at his counter
impatiently.
"No, no Sully here," the bookkeeper said.
"What about Simon?" William asked. "Try Daniel Simon."
He pushed his spectacles up on his nose. "You know, claims are confidential. I won't be able to tell
you any of the details of any particular claim."
"That's all right. I just need to know if they have one."
He flipped through again. "There's a John and Elizabeth Simon. But no Daniel Simon," he said,
stacking his papers.. "Now if you don't mind, mister, there's a long line behind you."
"Is there some other records office I might try?" he asked.
"Not for Sutter's creek, no," he replied. "Next customer, please!"
"Then they aren't here," he murmured with disappointment.
"Not necessarily," he replied as he took some paperwork from the man behind William and looked
through it. "Claim jumpers are all over the place. Taking over abandoned claims, if they can manage
to do it without getting caught. It's not impossible he's here. Somewhere." He stamped some of the
papers.
William nodded and put his hat back on, exiting the office. He sighed and sat on the bench outside.
Another dead end. He was beginning to feel like he was searching for a needle in a haystack. If
Byron or his friend Daniel hadn't officially registered a claim, he could be looking all over northern
California for them. He got up and untethered his horse. He might as well get started. He had a lot
of territory to cover. He spotted a woman heading down the street carrying a basket of groceries.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he called, approaching her. "I'm looking for some boys, about thirteen and
nineteen. Name of Byron Sully and Daniel Simon."
"You went all the way to California looking for him?" Michaela said in disbelief.
"I had to find him. I was determined," William said. "I had to make it right."
"You found me, that's what matters," Sully said. "Just took longer than ya counted on."
"Sully, I want you to know your mother was a wonderful woman. I never thought marrying her
would inflict such tragedy upon her. Sometimes I deeply regret ever becoming involved with her."
He gazed up at Sully. "But then I look at you and the wonderful man you've become, this beautiful
family you have, and I know that it was all meant to be. I may have failed at everything else in my
life, except for you. Katherine and I produced a fine son together who's gone on to make a
difference in this world."
Tears welled in Sully's eyes and Michaela put her arm around him and held him close.
"Sully, I've often wondered if my life has been nothing but a waste. Now, finding out you exist, I
know it's not."
Sully glanced at Michaela and she smiled softly at him. William extended his hand to shake but Sully
stepped forward and gave him a gentle hug.
Michaela stood by silently crying as father and son finally embraced. She gave Sully's shoulder a
reassuring squeeze and held their baby close. She knew Sully and William still had a long way to go
before either of them would find true forgiveness and closure about their heartbreaking past, but
they had finally embarked on the first step.
Michaela awoke with a start and let out a little cry. She sprung out of bed and rushed to the crib.
"Eliza?" she cried hoarsely. The covers were turned down and the baby was gone.
"Michaela?" Sully whispered as he awoke. "What's wrong?"
She spun around, immensely relieved. The baby was tucked up against his chest, fast asleep.
"I'm sorry. I was dreaming."
"Come back to bed," he said, reaching his hand out toward her.
She rejoined him at the bed and snuggled down with him, kissing the baby's head. "Did you get her
out of her crib?"
He rubbed the baby's back. "Yeah. Guess I just wanted her with us tonight. That all right?"
"It's fine. I want her here, too."
He put his arm around her securely. "When I think about what coulda happened. What he coulda
done."
"We're fine now. Both of us. Thanks to you and William."
"Weren't ya worried what he was capable of?" he murmured.
"Some. Mostly I was just focused on the baby. On protecting her from harm." She swallowed hard.
"I'm so sorry I left her behind. I'm sorry, Sully."
He smoothed her hair. "Hey, ya did what ya had to do at the time. He was gonna kill her if ya
didn't. Ya had no choice."
"Yes, you're right."
He held her all the closer. "William risked his life to get you back. I was never really sure he really
cared until he put his life on the line for ya like that."
"You were both very brave."
He gave her a soft kiss. "He's goin' back to St. Louis after Brian's weddin'. William. His home's there,
it's where he's always been able to find odd jobs."
"How do you feel about that?"
"I think we'll just have to make an effort to see 'im. Invite him here for Christmas, Thanksgivin'.
Maybe take the kids out there next summer. Sides, the kids'll be glad to see Samantha again, too."
"I think that sounds good." She found his hand and squeezed it. "We should get some sleep. I love
you."
He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Love ya, too."
Michaela rapped on Brian's open door. He was packing up a crate with the last of his things. His
room was nearly empty save for his bed and bookshelf. Weeks ago Sully had helped him haul over
the rest of the furniture to his new homestead, including his desk where he had written countless
stories and newspaper articles.
"Do you need help?" she asked.
He glanced up and lifted the crate onto his bed. "Oh, hey, Ma. I'm all right. I'm just gettin' the last
of my books," he replied.
"Your room looks so bare," she said, glancing around. "I can't believe all three of you have moved
away now. I thought this day would never come."
He grabbed another thick pile of textbooks from his school days. "Thanks for lettin' me take some of
my furniture. It'll help."
"Certainly."
"What're you and Pa gonna do with my room now that I'm moved out?"
"I'm not sure. I think the boys want to be together. I don't think we'll put one of them in here. I
think eventually we'll probably turn it into a nursery for the baby. Perhaps paint the walls. But that
won't be until she's much older. I suppose for now it's just going to sit empty."
"Can't picture my room a nursery," she said with a chuckle.
"I know." She approached the bed. "How are you feeling about tomorrow? Nervous?"
"Sure, a little nervous. But mostly just happy."
"Good," she replied with a smile.
"Hey, Ma?" he spoke up quietly, pausing and resting one hand on the edge of the crate. "I owe you
and pa a lot for takin' me in, raisin' me. I see now what a big job that was and I know it wasn't
always easy. I don't know what woulda happened to me you hadn't told my ma you'd take me in."
"Oh, Brian. We love you. Raising you has brought us so much joy."
"Ya coulda said no, Ma. Ya coulda sent us to an orphanage. Ya didn't have to promise my ma that."
"No, it was the best promise I ever made."
"It was still a big thing you did," he said. "I know when Sully lost his folks he was on his own, didn't
have nobody to take him in. I'm grateful you were here to help and that didn't happen to me."
"Oh, Brian, if your mother could see you now." She drew him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek.
"I'm gonna put an extra candle up there tomorrow, for my ma. Could you and pa and gran'pa light
it with the others?" he asked.
"I think that's a lovely idea. We'd be glad to."
"Thanks, Ma." He drew back and clutched her shoulders. "I better get over to my homestead. I got
things to finish up. Big day tomorrow."
"Yes, a special day," she replied, giving him one last hug.
"Get a good sleep tonight. Big day tomorrow," Michaela said as she kissed the children in the
kitchen. They were in their nightshifts and their hair was damp after their baths.
"Mama, what happens if we drop the ring?" Red Eagle spoke up.
She turned back to the dishes and picked up her dishrag while Elizabeth dried. "What do you mean?
"
"The ring bearers. Me and Byron. What if we drop the ring?"
"Yeah, it's a long walk up to the front," Byron added, leaning on his crutch.
"You're not going to drop the ring," she said resolutely. "I promise."
"Oh. All right," Red Eagle said, satisfied. "Night."
"Night, Gran'ma. Night, Mama," Katie said.
"Come on, kids," Sully called. "Ya need your sleep. I'll tell ya a story." He ushered the children
upstairs, taking special care to make sure Byron didn't trip on his unsteady leg.
"Love you, Mama! Night!" Byron called from the top of the stairwell.
Michaela smiled. "I love you," she called. She watched her mother for a moment. She was
vigorously drying a cup. "Mother, is something wrong? I thought you were happy about the
wedding. You haven't said much all day."
Elizabeth put the cup aside. "Something happened while you were gone, Michaela."
"What do you mean? I thought Brian and Sarah had worked out any differences they were facing."
"I'm not talking about Brian for heaven's sake. I'm talking about your sister."
"What's Rebecca done?"
"Claudette, Michaela. Claudette. She and Preston."
Michaela picked up another plate and scrubbed it, confused. "Claudette and Preston? What about
them?"
"I think you know what I'm talking about."
"No I don't, Mother. Honestly."
Elizabeth put down her towel and turned to face her. "Apparently they're ... they're quite serious
now. Yes, that's right. Just like that."
"Oh," Michaela murmured, taken aback. "Oh, you mean…oh."
"Yes," Elizabeth said. "Exactly."
"Oh," Michaela murmured, fishing out some silverware from the soapy water.
"Is that all you can say?" she demanded.
"I'm not quite sure what you want me to say, Mother."
"Say you disapprove! Say this is preposterous! He's not going to marry her! You know he won't
move back to Boston. Michaela, he's using her!"
"I wouldn't go that far."
"You can't be condoning this!"
"No, of course not. I think everyone should be properly married before they-they, well, that is,
before they-Mother, the point is Claudette's very happy with Preston and I want to support that."
"Oh, well if she's happy it doesn't matter, does it? Get a hold of yourself, Michaela! You must talk to
her. Tell her to get married!"
"Mother, I'm not going to do that." She fished in the soapy water and found the plug, setting it free.
"You have to! You must! Her reputation's going to be slaughtered if Boston society ever found out."
"So they won't find out. I'm not going to tell them, are you? Mother, I can't interfere here. She's
been through so much. Charles was-"
"You don't have to tell me about Charles. I know about Charles," she retorted.
"She is a grown woman."
Elizabeth sulked. "That's what she said. You're all conspiring against me."
Michaela smiled faintly and gently squeezed her shoulder. "It's not the end of the world."
"All my daughters come out here and end up meeting someone and … well, you know what. Is
there something in the water?"
Michaela rubbed her arm. "Well, we can't stop love, can we?"
She sighed. "I suppose not."
"It hasn't been such a bad thing, my falling in love out here. I would say we've given you a few
grandchildren you can be quite proud of, wouldn't you?"
Her expression brightened ever so slightly. "No arguments here."
"It's getting late. I'm heading up to bed. You should get some sleep, too, Mother. You're the
grandmother of the groom, remember?"
"How could I forget? Goodnight, Michaela."
Michaela gave her cheek a gentle kiss. "Goodnight."
Claudette folded a pair of frilly pantaloons and placed them in her trunk as someone knocked on her
door.
"Come in," she called.
Preston opened the door with a small smile. "Good evening."
"Good evening," she said shyly.
He approached her. "Is Michaela all right? That must have been quite an ordeal."
She gathered some stockings on her bed and placed them in the trunk. "She's fine. I knew all along
Sully would find her. It's lucky she didn't ruin the whole wedding, that's all I can say."
"Can you spare a minute? I'd like to talk." He approached her and held out a small box, opening it
to reveal a thick gold band with three large diamonds.
Claudette gasped. "Wherever did you? Oh, it's gorgeous."
He got down on one knee and gazed up at her adoringly.
She eyed him skeptically. "Oh, no. Is that what I think it is? Preston, please don't do this."
"Please, let me speak. Claudette, I've never loved anyone like I love you. The two of us, why, I
believe we're soul mates. Star-crossed lovers."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake. This isn't Shakespeare. Let's be practical for once, please.
Are you prepared to give up your hotel and your bank and move back to Boston? Well?"
He swallowed. "Well, I, I was hoping perhaps I could persuade you to move here. It's really not so
bad. I'd make life as comfortable as possible."
"You know what my answer is. No."
He slowly got to his feet. "I see. You love Boston more than me."
"Preston, it's not that. It's just, it's my home. Love or not, one doesn't give up their home just like
that. You forget I have children, too. Wills still lives with me. He may be grown but he still needs
me. I can't just go traipsing off to Colorado and leave him behind. My whole life is there."
"Well, Will could move here, too. Mollie and Will are both welcome. I'll help you look after them."
"Of course he can't. He needs to complete his studies at the university."
"Perhaps he could enroll at-"
"Absolutely not. He cannot go to university out here. The universities out here are pathetic. He must
stay at Harvard."
"Claudette, do you realize how compatible we are?" He caressed her cheek. "We're compatible in
every way. The other night was just … just extraordinary. You know it was."
Her cheeks flushed. "Stop it."
"Can't you just think about this?" he pleaded.
"I have! And if you're going to play that game, then I suppose you love your businesses more than
me. So there."
"Not at all!" he exclaimed.
"Good, then we're in agreement. Goodnight, Preston."
He stared at her in confusion.
"It's over," she said, suddenly choking up. "We've come to the conclusion we can't make it work.
Maintaining any sort of courtship would be fruitless. It's over. We're over, Preston."
He slowly backed up and headed to the door. Then he spun around. "If you ever change your mind,
I'll be waiting for you."
"I won't. Please leave," she choked, quickly grabbing a handkerchief
He swallowed hard and walked into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Michaela laid out Sully's vest and tie across the back of the chair for the morning. Then she walked
to the vanity and sat down, picking up her brush.
Sully was finishing shaving in front of the mirror, carefully running the blade down his upper lip.
"I think we should get the children up around six o'clock. It's going to take awhile to get the three of
them ready," Michaela remarked.
He rinsed the blade. "Sounds good."
"Sully?"
"Yeah?"
"Mother was a little upset tonight."
"About what?"
"Well, it seems Claudette and Preston have resumed their relationship."
"Oh. So? Thought she liked Preston."
"Well, she did. Until now."
He rinsed his face with some water. "She don't now? Why? What changed?"
"Preston and Claudette, apparently they … well, they, Mother says that they've…"
He eyed her for a moment, confused. "Oh, they … "
She nodded. "Yes."
He wiped down his face with a towel. "Can't say as I'm that surprised. A fool can see they love each
other."
"Mother's so worried about Claudette. Preston's made it clear he doesn't want to move back to
Boston. And Claudette certainly doesn't want to move here. They can't get married if neither of
them is willing to budge."
He stepped toward her. "How do I look? I get everything?"
She rose to her feet and took the towel from him, wiping away the last bit of suds from beneath his
earlobe. "Perfect." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Mm, very smooth."
"Good," he said, kissing her back in reply. "Too bad they couldn't compromise on this somehow.
Work out somethin' where they would both be happy."
"Yes, it's a shame." She stopped a moment, her face lighting up. "Wait a minute. That's it. A
compromise."
"What do ya mean?"
She put the towel down. "Why does it have to be one or the other? Why couldn't they live in both
places?"
"How?" he asked.
"They could live here half the year, and live in Boston the other half. They both have ample houses.
That way Preston could still maintain his businesses here and Claudette would still be able to keep
up with everything in Boston. Besides, Claudette's going to be coming out here summers anyway to
visit Mother."
"Don't see why that couldn't work. If they're willin'." He wrinkled his brow. "Wait a minute. Not sure
ya should tell them all that."
"Why not?"
"'Cause if ya do I have a feelin' Preston's gonna end up our brother-in-law."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, dear."
"I'm sure Claudette is real appreciative your ma told ya all this. And that you're tellin' me."
"I had to tell you," she said, clutching his arms. "You're my level head."
He smiled and kissed her. "Come on, Mother-of-the-groom. Time for bed."
Michaela stood on tiptoe and kissed Brian's cheek and he hugged her warmly as they gathered in
the alcove of the church. The organist was playing a classical piece and all the guests were seated.
She straightened his boutonniere one last time and brushed off his vest.
"See ya up there, Ma," Brian whispered.
She smiled at him as Sully hugged him and patted his back.
Then Michaela took Sully's arm and they walked down the aisle to the front of the room, William
following behind them. The Reverend was waiting up front holding his cane and Bible.
Together Michaela, Sully and William lighted the row of candles up front.
"A candle for Katherine," William murmured as he pressed the flame of a candle to an unlit wick.
"His grandmother."
"Charlotte," Michaela whispered as she lighted the last candle. "You'd be so proud."
Sully squeezed her shoulder and then they all took their seats on the groom's side beside Elizabeth,
who was holding the baby, and in front of Rebecca and Claudette.
Next Brian filed into the church along the side followed by his best man Matthew, and then his
groomsmen Kirk and his good friend from his school days Stephen Myers.
"Oh, they're all so handsome," Elizabeth remarked with a smile.
Next Sarah's maid of honor and her two bridesmaids walked in carrying bundles of bluebonnets and
took their places up front on the bride's side.
Finally Katie walked slowly down the aisle, a happy grin on her face as she sprinkled white rose
pedals on the ground. Red Eagle and Byron walked carefully behind her, holding the ring bearer
pillow between them and watching the ring with very serious, concentrated expressions.
Michaela and Sully shared a smile and watched proudly as the children took their places beside the
rest of the wedding party up front, the boys on Brian's side and Katie on Sarah's side.
Finally the organist began playing the wedding march and Sarah and her mother appeared at the
end of the aisle.
The crowd gasped softly at her beautiful wedding dress and veil, and her blonde hair in long, thick
ringlets. Brian folded his hands in front of him and smiled at her lovingly.
Sarah and Anna Marie walked down the aisle and then the organist wrapped up the song.
The Reverend gazed forward. "Who gives this woman to this man?"
"I do," Anna Marie said. She turned to Sarah and lifted her veil slightly to kiss her cheek.
"Thank you, Mama," Sarah whispered.
"Your daddy's watching over us today," she whispered
Sarah smiled at her softly and then took Brian's hand and joined him on the podium.
Michaela couldn't really recall what was said during the ceremony. Her eyes were filled with tears as
she held Sully and William's hands and thought back to the past twelve years of Brian's life. She
remembered how frightened and ill-prepared she had been when Charlotte asked her to take him
in. But somehow they had muddled through and had quickly grown as close as a mother and child
could be, no matter they weren't related in any way. She couldn't have asked for a better son. He
had rarely been anything but helpful and obedient throughout his growing up years. He worked hard
on his schoolwork, chores and the various jobs he had taken on as he grew up. And she never had
to ask him to lend a hand, for he was always offering it.
She glanced at the younger children. Above all Brian was such a wonderful big brother. The children
adored him and he always took care to set the best possible example for them. Whatever worries
she may have had when she was pregnant with Katie about how the family she and Sully
desperately wanted was going to blend with the older children she had inherited from Charlotte had
long since faded. Now Charlotte's youngest was moving on, and despite a homestead that was still
bustling with little children, Michaela had a feeling it was going to be awfully lonely without him.
Before she knew it the ceremony was over and the Reverend was blessing the new couple with a
prayer.
"You may kiss your bride," the Reverend said with a smile.
Brian lifted Sarah's veil and gave her lips a sweet kiss.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I now present Mr. and Mrs. Brian Cooper," the Reverend said, and the
couple joined hands and sauntered down the aisle as the organist began playing the recessional
march and everyone clapped enthusiastically.
Sully handed Michaela a hankie. She hadn't even noticed she had been crying until then.
"You all right?" he whispered.
"I'm fine. Just happy," she replied, dabbing at her tears.
He kissed her head. "He's really on his own now."
"I'd say his ma and pa prepared him quite well," she said tearfully.
He put his arm around her. "I'd say you're right."
The guests chuckled as Matthew stood beside Brian, hand on his shoulder, and held his punch glass.
"I think Brian was about this tall for about three years," Matthew went on, holding his hand at waist
level in demonstration. "We thought something was wrong with him. Thought he'd never grow. Fact
is, when he met Sarah he was two inches shorter than her."
Brian and Sarah chuckled and the guests laughed again.
"But somehow you finally grew up," Matthew said. "And it's a good thing, too, because I don't think
Sarah woulda married ya if you stayed shorter than her."
Sarah laughed and shook her head. "No, I wouldn't of," she said with a giggle.
Matthew raised his glass. "Anyway, congratulations to both of you. I wish you all the best, little
brother."
"Thanks, Matthew," Brian said as he clinked his glass with his.
"Here, here," the crowd echoed as everyone clinked glasses.
"Now let's get the dancin' started!" Matthew said
The string quartet began to play a waltz and Brian led Sarah out onto the dance floor for their first
dance. Soon the other guests joined them. Matthew danced with Claudette and Loren danced with
Rebecca, while Dorothy and William danced rather closely.
"Wanna dance?" Sully asked, taking Michaela's hand.
"In a minute. There's someone I need to talk to first," she said wryly.
She got up and walked over to Preston's table. He was sitting by himself watching Claudette twirl
around on the dance floor with Matthew and enjoying herself.
"You're not going to cut in?" she asked.
He glanced up at her a little irritated and took another bite of wedding cake.
"You know, she's leaving on this evening's train. Perhaps you should take advantage of the time you
have left."
He added some whiskey to his punch from a flask and drank it all down. "Please don't rub it in,
Michaela."
"Preston, forgive me for interfering, but Sully and I were talking and we think we may have the
answer."
"Answer?"
"Yes. So that you and Claudette can marry."
"Short of tying her down and refusing to let her go back to Boston I don't know what you could
have possibly come up with."
"I know your businesses are important to you and you've worked hard to make them thrive."
"So you want me to just give all that up? I suppose that's what you would do," he retorted. "Well,
good for you."
"Well, no, I'm not saying that. But what if there were another way? A way where you could have
both."
He folded his arms. "You want to help me marry your sister?" he asked skeptically.
She sat beside him. "Preston, you make her happy. And clearly she does the same for you. I want
to see her happy. She deserves it."
"She does deserve it," he murmured.
"She says she can't move here and you say you can't move there."
"No, I've been over this and over this with her. I simply cannot manage my bank and hotel all the
way from Boston. If this is going to happen she needs to move here."
"So why couldn't you live in both places? Spend winters in Boston and summers in Colorado when
business is most brisk."
"No, that would never work," he said dismissively.
"Why?" she replied. "I happen to think it's the best of both worlds."
He thought a moment. "You think she might be receptive to that? I suppose I could get by away
from Colorado in the winters when business is slow."
"You won't know unless you ask."
He folded his arms pensively. "You always were full of creative solutions."
"Sully inspired me. He suggested a compromise."
"Right. Well, thank him for me," he muttered, getting out of his seat and heading for the punch
bowl.
Sully walked over and held out his hand. "Now can ya dance?"
"Yes," she said with a smile.
"What'd he think?" he asked curiously as he led her to the bustling dance floor.
"I don't know. He didn't say much. But I think we've planted a seed." She grasped his hand and
shoulder and they began waltzing with the other couples.
Preston approached Elizabeth with a glass of punch. She was seated at the wedding party table
watching everyone else on the dance floor.
"You're not dancing, Mrs. Quinn?" he asked.
She glanced up at him irritably. "Of course I can't dance with my hip. I'll just watch."
"Punch?" he asked, handing her the glass.
She shook her head. "No."
"Well, it was a lovely wedding, wasn't it? I must say I was very surprised," he remarked, taking a
seat beside her. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."
She glared at him. "You can dispense with the innocence, young man. I know full well about you
and my daughter."
His mouth dropped open. "Claudette?" he blurted. "Oh."
"And if you think you're going to take advantage of her like that without marrying her you've got
another thing coming! I thought you had a little more breeding than that!"
He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Quinn, to be fair I've proposed marriage to her many times. She always
said she simply couldn't move here."
"So you move to Boston then!" she cried. "Do what you have to do to dignify this whole entire
fiasco!" She shook her head in exasperation. "First Michaela, then Marjorie and now Claudette. I
suppose I better keep my eye on Rebecca now, too!"
He held up his hand. "Mrs. Quinn, wait. I think I may have the solution. Actually, it was Michaela's
idea. And Sully's, I suppose."
"Sully and Michaela? They talked to you about this?"
"A six month split. We could marry and live six months in Boston and sixth months here. I'm about
to go talk to Claudette about it right this minute."
"Six month split?" she echoed pensively. "Oh."
"I think it could work. If we both compromise. But, I wanted to ask your permission first."
"My permission? For what?"
"I was always taught a proper Boston man should ask the permission of the parents before
proposing to their daughter. Well?"
"Well what?" she retorted.
"Do I have it? Your permission."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake. All right, yes. You have my permission. Of course you
have it. Just make an honest woman of her, please."
He got up and grasped her hand, kissing it. "Thank you. Thank you!"
"Byron, no, put your tie back on," Claudette scolded as she approached the table where the boys
were seated.
"Papa has his tie off," Byron protested, pointing at the dance floor where Michaela and Sully were
taking part in an elaborate reel.
Red Eagle yanked off his tie. "Yeah, Papa has his tie off."
"That's your papa!" she replied with exasperation. "Here, let me help." She squatted beside them
and strung the tie back around Byron's neck.
"Aw, Auntie," Byron protested.
"Don't 'aw, Auntie' me," she replied.
The boys giggled as she put their ties back on and tied them in neat bows.
"I'm glad Brian's married, aren't you, Auntie?" Red Eagle said.
"Yes, of course. They make a lovely couple."
"Everybody's in love around here. Bet there's gonna be a lot more weddings," Byron remarked.
"Right, Auntie?"
"Yes, seems like it," she said, suddenly growing tearful.
"What's wrong?" Byron demanded. "Why you crying?"
"No reason," she blurted. "There you are. Go on with you now. Go get some more cake. And keep
your ties on!"
The boys went off to the cake table just as Preston approached Claudette and touched her shoulder.
She spun around. "Oh, Preston." She quickly dabbed at her tears with the back of her hand.
"What's wrong?" he blurted. "What is it?"
"Nothing, it's nothing," she said, reaching for her handkerchief.
"Here, sit down," he said, guiding her to a chair. "Talk to me."
"Oh, Preston. It pains me this isn't going to work between us. Believe me. I just, I'm going to need
some time to accept that. I think it's better we not communicate in the meantime. I'd appreciate it if
you didn't write me or try to contact me. If you'd be so kind."
He took her hankie and dabbed at her tears. "I may just have the solution. That is, Michaela and
Sully might."
"Now they're offering their take on this, too? That's typical of my little sister. And that husband of
hers. Always putting in their two cents when no one asked in the first place."
"Yes, but in this case I think it might actually work."
The band finished up another lively reel and Michaela and Sully broke apart and clapped, out of
breath. Then the band began playing a slow waltz. Sully drew her close gratefully.
"Good, I need a break," he said with a smile.
She gave him a soft kiss. "I can't remember the last time we danced like this together."
"Been awhile."
She gazed up at him reverently. "I love being in your arms."
"I love bein' in yours," he whispered back.
"Sully, look at that," she murmured, gazing across the dance floor.
He followed her gaze. Dorothy and William were dancing together and looking at each other
tenderly. A moment passed and then William bent his head and gave her a soft kiss on her flushed
lips. Dorothy smiled up at him in reply.
"He may have yet another reason to come visit us often," she said wryly.
He grinned and kissed her head. "Hey, as much as I want ya to myself, you ain't danced with the
groom yet."
"Yes, you're right."
Sully spotted Brian over by the punch bowl pouring a glass for Katie. Sarah was beside him with her
arms wrapped around Red Eagle.
"Brian," Sully called. "Why don't ya take a turn with your ma?"
He smiled and walked over. "You don't mind, Pa?"
He chuckled. "No, go ahead." He kissed Michaela's hand and then turned her over to him.
"Having a good time?" Michaela asked as she grasped his shoulder and hand and they began to
waltz.
"Yeah, real good. You?"
"It was a wonderful wedding, Brian. It went off without a hitch."
"Thanks to you and Gran'ma and Mrs. Sheehan. You made it all come together. Thank you."
"You're welcome. We were happy to help."
"Sure was a long time in comin', me and Sarah gettin' married," he remarked.
"Not that long for your mother," she replied wryly.
"Ma, don't worry. Not much is gonna change. I won't be livin' in the homestead anymore, but that
don't mean the two of us don't wanna come by and have supper, spend time with you and Pa and
the kids. That is, if ya don't mind."
"Oh, Brian. We'd have the two of you over every night if you'd like. But, you're going to need your
space for awhile. Don't feel like you have to come by the homestead all the time when you'd just
like some privacy."
"Oh. Right," he said sheepishly. "Privacy."
"I suppose that's going to be strange at first, not having Katie and Byron and Red Eagle around to
interrupt you all the time," she said with a chuckle.
"Yeah. I'm gonna miss 'em though. All of ya."
"We'll miss you," she replied, giving him a hug.
Preston walked up to them and cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Brian, could I talk to you?"
"Sure, Mr. Lodge. Somethin' wrong?" he said as he and Michaela broke apart.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor. I was hoping to announce my engagement to everyone. But
only if it's all right with you and your new wife."
"To my Aunt Claudette?" he blurted.
"She said yes?" Michaela asked.
"She said yes." He burst into a big smile.
"Oh, Preston, that's wonderful!" Michaela exclaimed.
"Yeah, it's great. Sure, announce it. Go ahead!" Brian said.
He shook his hand vigorously. "Thank you!" He scurried over to Claudette and grabbed her hand,
drawing her to her feet. "Everyone, everyone!" he shouted. "Can I have your attention please? I
have something to share with you."
The band stopped playing and all the guests grew quiet.
Preston gazed at Claudette adoringly. "I just asked for this lovely woman's hand."
"What'd she say?" Jake demanded.
He glanced out at the crowd. "Oh. Yes! She said yes!"
The crowd laughed and burst into applause.
"Yippie!" Byron shouted, clapping his hands. "Aunt Claudie's movin' here!" He raced up to her and
hugged her.
"Well, not exactly, Byron," Claudette said.
"You're giving up your hotel and bank, Preston?" Jake asked in disbelief.
"No, not at all. We're going to live six months in Boston and six months here. It's really a perfect
plan." He put his arm around Claudette and drew her close.
"That's love for ya," Loren grumbled to Dorothy. "Makes folks think fool ideas like that are perfect
plans."
"Oh, I think it's sweet. I think it'll work," Dorothy remarked.
"Well, we'll see, won't we?" he replied pessimistically.
"Go dance," Byron urged, pushing on Preston's arm. "Dance together."
"Shall we?" Preston said, taking her hand.
"I don't know these kinds of dances," she replied scornfully.
He chuckled. "Neither do I. We'll have to do most of our dancing when we're in Boston."
She laughed and followed him to the floor.
He paused and gave her a soft kiss. "Thank you for saying yes."
"Thank you for being so persistent," she replied wryly.
Brian reached up and lifted Sarah down from the buggy. It was very late and the stars were
twinkling brightly. He held her hand and led her up the porch stairs. He opened the door, then
glanced at her mischievously and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.
She squealed. "Brian!"
"Gotta carry ya across the threshold. It's tradition," he said. He walked inside and kissed her, then
lowered her to the floor.
"Welcome to your first home of your own, Mrs. Cooper," he murmured.
"Our home," she replied lovingly.
Sully helped Byron unbutton his starched white shirt and then slipped a nightshift over his head.
"Here, son," he whispered. "Put your arms through."
Byron was nearly half asleep, exhausted after bounding around at the wedding reception all night.
He half-heartedly raised his arms and Sully guided them into the sleeves.
Michaela gave Red Eagle a hand into bed and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
"Night-night. I love you," she whispered, stooping to kiss his forehead.
Sully led Byron to bed and helped him up.
"Papa, what're we doin' tomorrow?" Byron asked sleepily.
"Tomorrow? You already want to know about tomorrow?" Michaela asked. "Wasn't today exciting
enough?"
He smiled faintly and closed his eyes, finding his stuffed puppy and clutching it to his chest.
"We'll play catch with the baseball, how's that?" Sully said. "Night."
"Night, Papa," he muttered.
Michaela kissed his cheek and smoothed his hair. "I'm so proud of you. The three of you did such a
good job at the wedding today. Goodnight, sweetheart."
"Yeah," he replied, turning over on his side exhaustedly.
Sully chuckled and led Michaela out of the room. "Ring bearers need their sleep. Come on."
She smiled as they walked out and closed the door, then headed to their bedroom. Sully opened the
door and guided her inside. He began unbuttoning his shirt and trousers as Michaela worked on
getting off her gown.
"We couldn't have asked for a more wonderful wedding," she remarked.
"Yeah," he said. He watched her peel off her bodice and then struggle to unlace her corset. "Need
some help?" he asked. He strolled over to her and untied the strings.
"Thank you," she murmured.
He ran his fingers across her shoulder and then gave it a soft kiss. She flinched slightly and reached
her hand up, stilling his.
"Sully, I'm just, I'm not sure I'm ready yet."
He paused a moment, then turned her to face him. "Michaela, is it just that it hurts? Or is it
somethin' else?"
"I don't know," she admitted hoarsely, glancing down.
"You can talk to me. Tell me."
She looked at the crib a moment where the baby was sleeping soundly. "It's just…I don't know, I've
been feeling different since the baby was born. Like my body's not my own anymore. It's as if I'm
different."
"You're beautiful," he said. He tilted her chin up so she met his eyes.
"It's not just that. Sully, you watched me give birth and all the complications that happened
afterward. You still feel … well, attracted to me?"
He wrinkled his brow. "Course I do. Why wouldn't I be?"
She stepped away. "I don't know. I suppose sometimes it makes me uncomfortable, self-conscious,
that you were right there for all of that."
"Course I wanted to be there. I wouldn'ta been anywhere else. I know goin' through what ya did
made ya feel real out of control. But you were real brave through it. And I don't feel any different
about ya."
"You're sure?" she murmured.
"Michaela, you gave me another little girl., made me a pa again You went through so much to give
us another child when we never thought it was gonna happen again. That's a beautiful thing. If I
feel different about ya, it's 'cause I love ya even more."
"Oh," she murmured emotively. "I love you even more, too."
"Stop thinkin' about what ya look like or anything else. There's nothin' you gotta worry about."
She smiled appreciatively and embraced him tightly. Suddenly he grabbed her and picked her up,
cradling her in his arms.
"Sully! What are you doing?" she cried.
"Brian gets to carry his bride across the threshold. I wanna carry mine," he said wryly.
She giggled as he walked to the bed and laid her atop it and kissed her deeply. Eventually he
dimmed the lamps and they made love slowly and tenderly in the darkness. It didn't hurt this time.
It just felt beautiful and natural. Afterward she basked in their closeness and held Sully's hand
tightly in hers. She thought about everything they had been through with his father, and how
although it had been rocky at times, eventually the experience had only depended their relationship.
The children had a grandfather now, as she had always wished they could, and William had even
saved Byron's life. She thought about Preston and Claudette and how she and Sully had worked
together to help two people clearly meant to be together to find a way to make it happen. And she
thought about letting Brian move on and how his wedding was truly an end to his childhood in a
way. She was sad about that, and yet at the same time it was so exciting to think they had a new
infant less than two months old they were going to be raising together over the next several years.
They had so much to look forward to with Eliza, as well as the other children. At last she fell asleep
in Sully's arms, happy and completely at peace.
The End
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Blood Ties Chapter 1, a dr. quinn medicine woman fanfic

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