It was nothing short of a miracle of God.

One moment, Timothy was slipping and falling backwards on a patch of mud from last night's downpours, the next he was blinking and coming to…and he could see something other than blackness.

Dr. Mike said it was impossible. There was no cure for his blindness, and there probably never would be. It didn't even make sense. The Reverend's blindness was caused by an illness, not a conk on the head. How did it suddenly become possible to see again after a fall?

Not that this was what was on his mind as Timothy blinked the world into existence for the first time in two years…

…it was her face.

"Are you alright?"

Standing over Timothy as he lie stunned in the dirt was a young woman, about twenty-five years old. Her hair was unruly and red, redder than even Dorothy's hair. Not to mention, it was a tangled mass of twine about her shoulders, as opposed to Dorothy's usual neat, tidy hairstyle. She had a round face and a high-necked purple collar. Her eye color was undiscernible because of the angle of the sun. And she was nothing sort of radiant.

"I…." was all Timothy could manage to squeak out. This was all too much to take in. From his point of view, the sun formed a halo around the woman's head. "…can see."

"Oh no," the woman muttered. Timothy could feel more boot steps approaching him. His head began to throb. The next voice that joined hers' was more familiar, and through the haze, Timothy could make out Jake Slicker.

"Reverend, you ok?"

"We should get him to Doctor Quinn," said a third voice…it had to be Teresa Slicker's.

"Where is he, then? Someone hurry!" said the voice belonging to the red haired stranger.

"Wait just a moment, Miss!" chimed in a fourth voice. The woman's face was pulled out of the tunnel of the Reverend's vision as she was helped to her feet by Preston Lodge III. "I'm sure he's ok. The Reverend Johnson's taken more than his share of falls and injuries over the years, I'm sure."

"Jake? Preston?" Timothy muttered, still overwhelmed. "I can see you!"

Silence.

"I thought the Doctor said that was not possible," Teresa said softly.

"She did," Jake replied. "Where is she?"

"Maybe Brian will know, he was just at the general store," Teresa replied before whisking herself off in that direction.

"Don't sit up just yet, Reverend," Jake advised. He looked up at Preston, still holding his grip on the strange woman's shoulder. "That what she would say, right?"

"Who's she?" the woman asked quickly.

"The Doc," Preston answered. "I think the question is…who are you, Miss?" There was an obviously flirtatious tone to his voice.

That was when Timothy couldn't stand the headache any longer, and fell back into unconsciousness.

"Reverend? Reverend? Can you hear me?" asked a soft, gentle, very familiar voice…one that used to make Timothy's heart flutter.

"Dr. Quinn?" he moaned, trying to move. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want you moving just yet. I'm pretty sure you've suffered a concussion. You hit your head on a stone when you fell down."

To Timothy's amazement, it wasn't a dream. The world was coming into focus around him again, like it used to before his illness took his sight in the first place. Michaela Quinn's clinic looked almost exactly as he remembered it. And Michaela herself was still as pretty as he remembered.

She stared down at him with a queer look in her eye. "I thought Jake wasn't being serious. Is…is your vision clear? Blurred? Colored?"

Timothy smiled. "Dr. Quinn, I can see you. You're a little blurred."

"This is quite…miraculous. You might just need some spectacles to help with the blur…but I don't understand. You didn't lose your vision due to injury!" She seemed both happy and confused. It made her skin glow.

"Am I going to be alright?"

"I should think so. You're concussed for sure, but I am confident that things are going to be fine. I'd like to keep you here in the clinic for a few hours to monitor you, but if everything seems normal, I will be able to send you home by suppertime." Michaela reached for two sterile-white pillows in a cabinet above her head. "Do you think you can stand me propping your head up? It will make it a little easier to stay awake until the immediate danger has passed."

"Yes, thank you," Timothy said. Michaela gingerly propped his head and shoulder onto the extra pillows. This only made his head throb a little more. He moaned.

"If you'd like, I'll make you a cup of willow bark tea. It might help with the pain you feel," Michaela suggested.

"I would like that, Doctor. Thank you."

A few minutes went by as the Doctor brewed the tea. Timothy took a slow moment just taking in the fact that, aside from some blurring, he could, in fact, see again! What a miracle, indeed!

"Praise the Lord," he muttered to himself. Perhaps I can ask Michaela to bring a Bible so I could study it while I wait for release…

Some movement drew his gaze to the window as he thought. With their backs to the window, Preston Lodge III was still talking with the red-haired angel who'd found Timothy first. He couldn't make out the conversation, not that it was his business anyways.

He couldn't help but notice how long her tangled tresses ran…to the small of her back. She appeared almost as tall as Preston, and her lavender-colored dress offset the warm hues of her hair, making her stand out all the more.

Glory Be to God, he thought. I am healed, and He has sent an angel to see His Will be done…

"I saw you being shoved off the train earlier" Preston Lodge III said softly. "Stowaway? Runaway? Abusive husband at home? Or—"

"—I'm a wanderer, I suppose," the woman replied. "I have no family, no husband, no children. I was staying and working in a boarding house in Brooklyn until about two weeks ago."

"I see, and what brings you out west?"

"Opportunity," she replied blunting to Preston's pressing questions.

"Well, welcome, Miss—"

"—Lucile. Lucile Greene."

Preston grinned widely. "Welcome to town, Miss Greene. I think Colorado Springs just got a little prettier!"