Prologue

January 1st 1865

She watched them walk down the dark, dank corridor. Every step further they walked, her heart broke more. She couldn't take it any longer and turned away. They were all growing, flourishing into their own persons, and she wasn't able to see it. She felt as though someone was cutting off her air supply and she couldn't breathe. Their footsteps were ringing in her head along with the dripping of water hitting the window pane. They seemed to be stringing a melody, a melody she didn't want to hear. And she could feel the eyes on her. She knew they were eyes of sympathy, but she didn't care, she didn't want pity. She wanted her family.

And like she did for the millionth time she turned back to catch a final glimpse as they rounded the corner. She didn't know why she always did that. It only hurt her more. But it was like a magnetic force that made her turn her head each and every time. And this time was no different.

She saw the tiny hand raise up and wave goodbye. She could see her fingers swaying in the distance as if they were clutching for something, anything. She looked to her tear stained face and saw her rosy cheeks glistening in the faint candlelight. Her rosebud lips moved, but she couldn't quite make out what she was saying. Only two words were distinguishable before she turned the corner to the rest of the world. "Love, mama…"

Those two words captured her heart. They would stay with her till she was reunited with her again. She didn't know when that would be; she didn't know if it would ever be. Her hope and faith had drained from her thin, frail body but somewhere deep within her she knew she would be reunited with her family someday.

A smile slowly appeared on her lips but then she felt the cold icy fingers grab a hold of her arm, but she didn't filch, for she knew who it was. Her time was up; it was time for her to return to her home. She rarely talked to anyone anymore. They all knew her story and felt sorry for her. They knew she wasn't like the rest of them, she didn't belong there.

She was guided down the back hallway inching further away from freedom. She was being dragged back down to the pits of hell. It was dark, cold, and the smell could paralyze you with fear. People in the outside world couldn't even imagine what went on in a place like this, they wouldn't even know where to being. She prayed to God every night to keep her strong, to keep her sane till the day she could smell freedom.

The hand was still clasped tightly around her arm heaving her into the darkness. One couldn't tell if it was night or day. Unless they stared at the clock from the time they reentered watching the hour hand go around, hoping they could keep the hours straight. She walked this line every first Sunday of the month. She knew exactly how many steps it was from the meeting hall back to her cell. Twenty four, twenty four steps away. If only she could go twenty four steps in the opposite direction.

They were almost there. The place he told her to call home. But it wasn't her home; her home was with her husband and her children. Not this dark, dripping, place full of anguish.

The grip on her arm grew tighter as they stopped. She could hear the jingle of keys, then the familiar sound of metal unlocking metal. The door swung open and her arm was let free only to feel the force of his hand on the small of her back thrusting her inside the cell. If she wasn't so weak she could have stood up to the torture, but she just let herself fall upon the cold musty mattress.

She heard him smirking and could feel his eyes on her. They burned a hole threw her soul. If it wasn't for him, life might be bearable in this God forsaken jail. But it only got darker if it was possible. Her father once told her to never hate anyone, and that life was much to short to keep hatred and anger in your heart.

"I saw the way he looked at you tonight. It was different than how he usually does. He moved on. He found another little whore to occupy his time and warm his bed."

She looked up at him, not shedding a tear. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, not anymore.

"Don't believe me?" He smiled. "A man knows these things."

Looking down her eyes drooped close and her hands went limp. The cell door slammed shut locking her out from the world. But this was her world now and she had to live in it. She could hear his boots walking away from her cell. Those footsteps were the only melody she liked to hear, because they were walking away from her.

She knew he was playing games with her, he always did. But what if this time he was right and he had moved on with his life. Oh God, it hurt her to even imagine it. But could she blame him? Was she anything to him now, anything besides a horrible burden? It had been a year, a cold, lonely year with out him by her side. A year of pain, a year of suffering, a year of death and a year of tears.

The pain was still fresh in her mind though. It was like it was yesterday. She could still remember the day she met him, when they fell in love, got married, had their child. Her love for him was still strong. It was perhaps the only strong thing about her.

She moved to lie on her side and stare at the wall. That's how she fell asleep most nights. But this night she almost couldn't bear the tearing pain in her heart. He had once again won. Planting fear and pain in her heart.

Closing her eyes she hoped that sleep would claim her. She sent a silent prayer up to God and willed her spirit to her husband.

"Please, Sully, don't forget about me. Don't give up."

Chapter 1

He collapsed onto his bed. It was a little after midnight. The baby had finally fallen asleep after hours of crying, screaming and fighting. The first Sundays of the month were always bittersweet to him. He would wake up with a hint of a smile on his face, because he knew he would be able to see his wife. He never took that for granted anymore. He never knew it would be such a luxury. But after their measly thirty minutes they had together as a family, he would have to return home and listen to the weeping of his child for twice as long.

And this night was no different. If anything it lasted longer. Her shrill cries tore at his already broken heart. Sometimes he just didn't know what to do. In his less than saner moments, he just wanted to leave her, run far away and never return. But he knew he could never, ever do that. She was a part of him, a part of his wife; the best part of both of them.

The same questions ran though his mind, as they always did before he went to sleep. Why did it happen to us? What did we do to deserve the die that was cast to us?

He pulled the covers tighter around his body. Now that she was gone, the bed was so cold. He wondered if she was warm. He hoped she was. Was she thinking about him? Their family?

He never thought he would have to raise her by himself. Sure, his friends tired to help out, bringing food to the homestead and watching over her when he needed to leave. But it was him that had to return to the empty house with her, it was him that had to bathe her, it was him that had to listen to her cries at night. But when he thought about it, he wouldn't trade his time with her for anything in the world. He only wished that he could share it with his wife.

When he thought the burden to be too much, he pictured his wife. At least he was with his family; living in their house. At least he was able to watch her grow. He could capture her milestones. She couldn't. She was denied everything. But he tired to fill her in; he tired to jam a month into a half an hour. But he would often time forget the little things and would do anything to just have one more minute with her.

But the rules were never broken, never even bended. He saw how the guard watched them and listened to their every word. The guard's eyes mostly never left her sight. He didn't like the way he was staring at her. It frightened him. He heard stories about what went on in places like those and it shook him to the bone. He often asked her if they were treating her all right, if anyone ever hurt her. And she always answered the same.

"They treat me fine, Sully."

She was lying.

October 30th 1863

"Please, let go of me! Please!" She begged to the officer for the thousandth time to let her loose. They had ridden on horseback for hours, riding further and further away from her loved ones. She could barely breathe from the constraints of her bindings. The remnants of her stomach had been purged hours ago, and now she could barley swallow.

She was freezing. Her jacket had been torn off her body, and her blouse had been ripped, subjecting her skin to the chilly temperature. Her stocking-clad feet swayed in the misty rain that often fell in the late night hours of the fall. She tried to keep track of where they were taking her. But deep down she already knew.

They waited in front of the iron gates for her fate to be cast.

"Got a real pretty one for you here, John," the officer sneered.

She felt herself being thrown from the horse, and she landed in a heap at the man's feet. His steel-tipped shoe jarred into her stomach, almost knocking the wind out of her. She placed her hands firmly on the ground and fixed her eyes on the man that was staring down at her.

The guard smiled. "Well, well Mrs. Abigail Sully, I have waited a long time to finally meet you."

Abigail stayed silent.

"Get up! It's time for you to see your knew home."

Abigail's body trembled with fear, as John P. Mitchell's large hand captured her upper arm, jarring her upward.

John looked back and pulled a wad of bills from his jacket and handed them to the officer. "This should cover it."

The officer greedily accepted the bills, a smile ever apparent on his face. Before he could say anything, she was shoved through the rod-iron gates.

November 6th 1864

Upon walking into town with his daughter in tow, Sully noticed a large gathering around the stagecoach. It had been awhile since it had come trudging threw town. He scooped his daughter into his arms and quickened his pace. Just passing the general store, his eyes caught those of Loren Bray. Loren held his glance but then turned briskly around and walked back into the store.

"You can just put that down right there." The petite brown haired lady told the driver.

Sully walked over to the reverend that was standing next to the stagecoach. "Who's that?" he asked.

"Oh, Sully, hello." The reverend greeted him with a warm smile. "And hello to you too little Miss Hannah."

Hannah smiled and turned her head into the crook of Sully's neck, shying away.

"Well, she's Colorado Springs first doctor." The reverend pushed his hands threw his hair.

"Doctor?" Sully shifted Hannah to his other hip.

"Seems she answered our advertisement, came all the way from Boston."

"Down, Papa, down." Hanna squirmed in his arms.

Setting the child down on her feet, Sully held her hand. "From Boston, huh?"

"I believe that we may have made a mistake." The reverend smiled and chucked his nervous laugh. "I thought her name was Michael."

Sully could feel Hannah tugging at his hand, while he tired to get a better look at the lady doctor, but her back was to him.

"Sully?" A woman's voice turned his head.

Sully turned to meet Emily Donavan. "Hello, Mrs. Donavan." He smiled.

"Hello, Mr. Sully. Hannah." She lowered herself to become eye level with the child.

"I was just wondering if Hannah would like to come along with me and Elise. We're going on a picnic."

Sully picked his daughter up into his arms. "Would you like that, honey?"

Hannah nodded her head yes and once again squirmed to be put down. Sully planted a kiss to her cheek and set the child down and looked to Mrs. Donavan. "I'll probably be in town 'til late, so you can just bring her back here."

"Alright. Say goodbye to your papa." She smiled at the child.

"Bye, Papa!" The child skipped away.

"Bye, Hannah."

Sully turned back to the reverend. "So are ya gonna send her back?" He laughed.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." He walked back to the church.

As Sully neared closer to the mysterious woman, he watched her step back onto the stagecoach and retrieve a black medical bag. He smiled to himself.

"That tall one can go inside," she remarked, turning around.

She placed her foot back onto the step of the stage coach pointing to the last package on the top when suddenly, the horses jerked forward, sending the lady doctor tumbling backward. But before she could plummet to the ground, she felt herself being caught. By reflex, she threw her hands around his neck to keep herself from sinking.

"Whoa, I got ya. You're all right."

Opening her eyes, she looked at the man that was holding her in his arms. "I…I…thank you…" she gasped.

Sully looked down at the woman who was in his arms. And noticed she had two different color eyes. He had never seen anything like it.

"You… you may put me down now," she laughed nervously.

Sully's face turned red, and he placed her on her feet. "Sorry. Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

Straightening her dress of wrinkles, she looked to the man who caught her. "Yes, thank you….umm…Mr…"

"Sully."

"Mr. Sully." She smiled, holding out her hand.

He shook her hand firmly in his own. "It's just Sully."

She cocked her head to the side, taking in his features. He was a very handsome man, and his eyes were the bluest she had ever seen. His skin was dark and tan from the summer's sun, even though it was late fall. And his sandy blonde hair fell just to the tips of his shoulders.

"Miss?" Sully noticed she had a far off look in her eyes. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, " she quibbled, stepping back to put a distance between herself and Sully.

"Well, it was nice to meet you…"

"Dr. Quinn." She smiled.

He nodded. "Dr. Quinn."

"Hey Miss, I gotta go. Where ya want this bag?"

Michaela looked around and let out a breath of defeat. "I guess you can just place it there on the porch with my other things."

The crowd seemed to disperse after the fascination with the lady doctor wore out.

"Well, it sure looks like you got your work cut out for you." Sully motioned toward the porch full of trunks, bags and packages.

She exhaled deeply. "I guess I do. Good thing this place is big enough." She turned to look at the façade of the building.

"You're going to be living with Charlotte?" Sully asked, looking to the boarding house.

"No, this is my clinic." She turned around.

"What about Charlotte and the children?"

"Well, I bought this building from Mrs. Charlotte Cooper. She told me she just bought a house on the outskirts of town and that she was looking to sell her boarding house. I thought it would make a wonderful clinic."

"I haven't been in town much." Sully kicked the dirt. "I didn't know she found a house for her and the kids."

"Umm…" Michaela grunted and looked at the pile before her.

"Come on. I'll help ya."

"Oh no, you don't have too."

"That's all right." He moved to pick up her trunk.

"No really. You've already helped me out so much already!"

"I said I'll help." Resting the trunk on his shoulder, he walked inside the clinic.

"He's surely stubborn!" She rolled her eyes.

April 18th 1863

It was dark, and the hour was late. Abigail Sully paced back and forth in front of the hearth. Her husband was supposed to be back two days ago from his hunting excursion. She had finally gotten Hannah to sleep, and she hoped her daughter would sleep thought the night, even though she knew she wouldn't. She liked her three AM feedings way too much.

It wasn't like Sully to be so long overdue and not send word.

"Oh God, what if something happened to him?"

Abigail's head was spinning in all different directions. She was worried about him. Terribly worried. They parted on such bad terms. Sully left eight days ago, after they had a fight about moving. She wanted to stay in Colorado Springs, close to her family. But he wanted to move on and find work somewhere. The fight was still fresh in her mind.

"Sully I don't want to fight with you anymore about this! I'm not moving, and that's final!" The tears pooled in her eyes. She wasn't used to being the one doing the yelling. "You're being selfish!"

"Selfish? I'm being selfish? Look around Abby! There's no work! How am I suppose to provide for our family if I can't work."

"We're doing fine." She crossed her arms, turning her back to her husband.

"Doing fine? I don't believe asking your father for money or taking free hand outs from his store is doing fine!"

"Sully, he doesn't mind. He's my father!" She turned around to look him square in the eye.

"Well I mind. I should be the one to provide for us, not your father. You don't belong to him anymore."

"Belong to him? So what? Now I belong to you. Is that how it is now? You own me?" she quibbled.

"Abby!" Sully slammed his hand on the table, clearly frustrated.

"I love my mother and father dearly, and I want to stay close to them. Why can't you understand that?" Her voiced quaked.

"Abby, I understand that you want to stay close to your family, but I'm not going to have us living hand to mouth anymore. We have to go where I can find work. We have a baby to think about." He looked toward the adjacent room. "And I think moving to Montana would be the best thing for us. I've already started to look into it."

"What without even asking me first!" Her hands bunched at her sides.

Sully voice rose over hers, "I didn't know I need to report to you everything I do!"

A mighty wail erupted from the bedroom, shattering their heated argument.

"Thanks. Now you just woke up the baby!" She briskly walked to the room.

She exhaled, thinking about the memory. When she thought about it, she and Sully fought a lot. It was usually just about little things, but it still hurt.

She sat at the table and picked up the telegram and read it for the hundredth time. Be home Thursday. Sully.

And that's all it said. It was now Saturday.

January 14th 1865

It was only two weeks since the last time he saw Abigail when the telegram arrived.

"What does it say Sully?" Michaela placed her hand on his shoulder.

His eyes scanned the words, and then he looked straight ahead. "They turned us down. That was the final appeal."