Part 1:

The infant wailed miserably, its small, chubby limbs struggling against the white, cotton sheet in which it had been hastily wrapped. Shifting the baby slightly in his right arm and drawing it closer to him, he whispered tenderly to it until under the combined effect of the warmth of his chest and the low, comforting words, it began to quieten. Yet even as his attention was directed away from the small bundle, the cool, thin hand that had hitherto been clasped within his own fell limp, the pale lips curling in a small, satisfied smile before the eyelids fluttered closed, sundering him forever from the lustrous gaze that had imprinted itself interminably upon his heart.

Sully started awake, eyes darting frantically across the empty yard. Solitude continued to reign free beneath the humid blanket that had fallen over the territory; not even the occasional rustle of the leaves penetrated the stifling thickness. The sun was already high in the sky, a furiously bright disc bearing down upon the parched, baked earth. He hazarded it was close to two o'clock; she would be waiting for him. Rising slowly, he scrubbed away the traces of moisture from his cheeks and hurried down the smooth, wooden steps, heading for the barn.

Spotting her dark dress and white pinafore amidst the small crowd, he lengthened his stride and reaching the small path, he called out, "Michaela!"

The little girl turned and recognising the familiar figure, she waved merrily before turning away to hunt for her school books. Finally unearthing them from beneath the wooden table, she crawled out and stumbling to her feet, instantly took off running towards him, her long coppery locks streaming out behind her like a ribbon caught in a high breeze. Bending down, he caught her in a fierce embrace which she reciprocated with equal fervour.

"Hey sweet girl," he said, releasing her and rising to his feet, "did ya have a good day at school?"

"Yep," replied the girl exuberantly, taking the hand that was proffered to her, "the Reverend was teachin' us all about Jesus healin' the sick people and Johnny got to play Jesus and I had to be the sick woman. But he kept doin' it all wrong so then I got to be Jesus and he had to be the sick man. He got all mad though and stole my apple at lunch so I chased him all around the big tree and made him give it back."

"That how ya got so dirty?" suggested Sully with a chuckle as she paused for breath. At her sheepish expression, he smiled.

"What am I gunna do with ya?" he joked, rubbing his hand against her side and earning a loud giggle in return.

"Stop it Papa!" laughed Michaela, wriggling away from his touch and running forwards to take the bridle of the horse. Sully took the books from her hands and placing them on the ground, lifted his daughter into his arms.

"Up ya go," he said and well used to the routine, Michaela immediately adjusted herself within the saddle and reached out to grab her books before taking hold of the reins. Sully mounted easily behind her and leaning over her shoulder asked lightly, "Ya drivin' or am I?"

"It's your turn today Pa," she replied cheekily, twisting slightly to smile broadly at him and handing over the reins. As he clicked his tongue and nudged the horse into a gentle canter, she instantly leaned back against him, resting her head in the crook of his arm, her young head barely grazing the darkened underside of his chin.

"Pa," began Michaela tentatively as he lifted her back down onto the ground, "can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure" replied Sully, reaching out for the bridle to lead the horse back into the barn, "what's on your mind?"

"Well when we were actin' at school today, it kinda got me thinkin' and I was wonderin'…"

She broke off suddenly as though losing her nerve, her fingers twisting themselves within the dusty fabric of her dress. Noting her hesitation, Sully turned back towards her and asked curiously, "Wonderin' what?"

"Pa," she continued after a moment, stepping towards him, "d'ya think I could be a doctor when I grow up?"

Sully's grip tightened like a vice around the leather strap in his hand, knuckles growing pale as he struggled to control the tirade of emotions that rose swift within his chest. Mindful of her innocent, watchful gaze and with great effort, he mastered the bitter ire that tangled about his heart, finally choking out a single response, "No."

"But Pa," protested Michaela, "why not? I…"

"I said no!" burst out Sully suddenly, suppressed grief and the raw fragments of resentment expelling the words from his mouth with a fearsome venom. Balking at her father's uncharacteristic fury, she retreated, bewilderment contorting her regular features.

"Go inside and wash up," subjoined Sully sedately after a moment's silence during which he once again forced his agony back into the gaping chasm from whence it had so hastily arisen and sought now to amend for the hurt he had seen momentarily flicker in his daughter's eyes, "your brothers are comin' over for dinner."

Nodding, she turned and headed wordlessly up the steps to the door of the homestead. Her hand had barely touched the metal of the handle when his voice arrested her movement.

"Michaela," he called softly, "I love you sweet girl."

Her warm heart could not hold his outburst against him for long and smiling, she ran back to his welcoming arms, burying herself in his comforting scent.

"I love you too Pa."