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CHAPTER 9
Sully tossed and turned, shaking with chills as fever raged through his exhausted body. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, a soft moan escaping his parched lips.
Michaela bent over him as she sat by his side on his bunk, applying a cool cloth to his forehead and whispering comforting murmurs to try and ease his fevered mind. Reaching for the glass on the table by the bed and lifting his head a bit, she tried to coax him into taking a swallow of water, but he barely responded.
When he quieted a bit, she pulled back the light blanket draped over his body for modesty's sake, and peeked under the large bandage on his left side. The knife wound still looked terribly angry and inflamed as his body reacted to what must have been some type of poison on the knife's blade. Michaela wasn't sure what kind of poison it was, undoubtedly something made from a plant, but it had seized Sully's body in a grip that wouldn't let go. He had been delirious for two days.
Michaela had never seen anything like it, and she feared if she couldn't get the fever under control soon...he would succumb. She was determined to do everything in her power to prevent that from happening.
She had cleaned the six-inch flesh wound as thoroughly as possible and stitched it closed; all the while thanking God the blade had not penetrated to his organs. Sully had apparently tried to treat himself, as there had been some sort of poultice pressed into the wound, but she couldn't tell whether it had helped or hindered the healing process. Now, peeling off the bandage, Michaela cleaned the area again. Applying a generous amount of medicinal salve over the stitches, she covered the whole thing with fresh bandages, reaching under his body and tying strips of cloth around his torso to hold them in place. As she worked, she murmured quiet prayers to God for Sully's recovery.
Just as she finished, Colonel Davenport stuck his head in the door.
"How is he, Dr. Quinn?" he asked softly, being careful not to disturb the lieutenant.
"No better, I'm afraid," she murmured in reply, turning to meet the man's concerned gaze. The colonel pressed his lips together in a sympathetic pout, watched the patient for several minutes, and then tipped his hat, moving on about his business with the admonishment to let him know the minute his condition changed – for the better, or...for the worse.
When Sully had first fallen unconscious on the porch of her quarters, Michaela had tossed convention to the winds and yelled for help, explaining that he had merely come to check on her upon his return to the fort.
The colonel had immediately sent an urgent message to the next fort to ask their doctor's help, but he was too busy attending to their own wounded and could not come. Michaela had insisted she be allowed to tend to Sully, standing her ground firmly, and this time the old colonel had backed down and allowed it – much to everyone's surprise.
Several times, the colonel had been to see his stricken lieutenant, and found the woman doctor to be taking very capable care of her patient. Indeed – full and complete care. Other than several of the men helping to remove his soiled clothing and place him in his bunk, she had not allowed anyone else to care for him, choosing to take her meals in his small quarters, even sleeping in a chair next to his bed. Very slowly, the old colonel had begun to change his mind, albeit just a little, about 'women doctors.' He supposed that she and the lieutenant had become quite good friends during their many morning horse rides, and he found her devotion to his care quite admirable.
After he had gone, Michaela turned back to her precious patient, reaching to smooth a lock of hair from his flushed face as she adoringly perused his handsome features.
"You've got to get better, Sully. Fight this. Fight hard. Please...don't die," she added, her eyes welling with unshed tears. At her wit's end and having exhausted her store of knowledge for his treatment, she bowed her head, murmuring yet another heartfelt prayer for his recovery.
Sully moved his head side-to-side, reacting to something he was seeing in his mind in his fevered unconsciousness. "Don't...leave...me," he whispered.
Gasping softly, she took hold of one of his hands, pressing it to her cheek. "I'm here, Sully. I'm not going to leave you, I promise," she vowed with quiet surety.
He moved his head, dislodging the cloth and she picked it up to dip in the cool water and reapply.
"Promise..." he whispered.
"Yes, I promise," she responded, having no idea he was not speaking to her, but the word had sparked a painful memory.
"Abby..." he whispered, and Michaela's hands instantly stopped, her eyes wide as another woman's name slipped from the lips of the man she loved.
"Abby...I...I know... I promised...but I c...I can't... do it any...anymore," he murmured, mumbling more words that were unintelligible. Michaela leaned closer as she reapplied the cloth to his forehead. He reached up and weakly grasped her arm.
"I'm sss...sorry...please forgive me...Abby..." he almost whined, his face a study of anguish.
Michaela swallowed hard. Abby...who was this woman? In the many times they had talked, Sully never mentioned there was someone in his life. As she thought about it, she realized that in every conversation concerning her past and David, he had remained silent, merely allowing her to vent – but never volunteered anything about a similar situation in his own life.
Now she wondered...this Abby...was she his sweetheart? His fiancée? What was it he said? 'I know I promised you, but I can't do it anymore'...do WHAT anymore? The thought reared its ugly head that Sully was married...and his wife had remained 'back home,' but try as she might, she couldn't remember if he'd told her where he was living before he went in the army. He told her he had been a silver miner in Colorado...did he meet Abby there? Is that where she still was...perhaps waiting for his return?
Michaela felt as if her stomach had dropped to the dusty plank floor. Silently, she acknowledged that it would stand to reason women would be attracted to Sully...he was kind, brave, confident, skillful at so many things...and mouthwateringly handsome. Why had she never thought of this possibility before? Oh! She silently groused, what did he promise this Abby? Marriage? Faithfulness?
Shaking her head, she resolved not to assume the worst. She would wait until he got better, got stronger...then she would broach the subject. She shivered a little, despite the warm temperature in the room. The thought of 'confronting' Sully about a possible 'other woman' set her teeth on edge.
Perhaps she could ask someone else...
Just then, Corporal Lance walked by the door and Michaela called out to him. He backtracked and stuck his head in the doorway.
"Yeah, Dr. Mike?"
She smiled at his choice of greeting and motioned him closer. The men had quickly begun to use the nickname after she had stepped in to tend to the wounded Sully, and she had shared with them that the children at an orphan's home in Boston had called her by that moniker. Now in the space of a very short time, she was 'Dr. Mike' to everyone.
Once he moved into the small room and stood there looking at her expectantly, her nerve weakened and she stammered, "I...um...would you mind sitting with the lieutenant while I go across to my quarters and freshen up?"
"Sure thing, ma'am," he immediately agreed, stepping inside.
"Thank you," she smiled sincerely. "I'll only be a little while...but please, if anything changes, send someone for me immediately."
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded sincerely, seating himself in her vacated chair and training his eyes on his prone superior. He certainly didn't want the lieutenant to take a turn for the worse on his watch.
She nodded and went to the door, hesitating as she looked back at her patient still lying there, intermittently tossing and turning, and still mumbling unintelligible phrases. She sighed softly and turned to go.
Twenty minutes later, in a fresh skirt and blouse, her hair straightened, and feeling somewhat refreshed and ready to continue her vigilance, she appeared once again at Sully's door. He looked the same, and Corporal Lance immediately rose to give her the chair back, relating that nothing different had happened while she was gone.
She thanked him, and as he was turning to go, she ventured, "Um...Corporal? May I ask you something?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Hesitating for a moment, she decided to dive right in. Glancing at Sully and noting there was no change – that he hadn't regained consciousness - she asked softly, "Do you happen to know if...if the lieutenant has a fiancée back home...or a wife...anyone to notify of his condition?" She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
The corporal thought for a minute and shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, ma'am. The lieutenant there...he don't talk much, you know? All's I know is that he joined up right after the war and cause he's so good with a rifle and everythin', he rose up in the ranks quick...but I don't know much about his personal life."
She nodded, hoping he would continue.
He shifted his weight to lean against the door jam, scratching his head in thought. "I know he was once a silver miner...and he dug for gold durin' the Pike's Peak rush in '59." Michaela nodded again, Sully had already shared that bit of information with her. "But, he ain't never been one to sit around and jaw with us...just mostly stayed to his'self in his quarters here." Then he added seriously, "One time when we were all in the mess hall talkin', killin' time, and everybody was talkin' about their wives or sweethearts back home, somebody asked him if he had one. His face got kinda cloudy and he mumbled, 'Nope,' and just got up and walked out the door. Nobody ever asked him again."
Michaela swallowed with immense relief. The corporal seemed to read her expression, and he continued thoughtfully, "The lieutenant...he's always been kinda sad, ya know? To tell ya the truth...the only time I ever saw him smile was when he'd come back from a horse ride with you."
With that he smiled kindly at her, tipped his cap, and went on about his business, leaving Michaela with much-relieved warmth permeating her being.
OOOOOO
Sully slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the low light of the lamp next to the bed. Becoming aware of his surroundings, he realized he was in his bunk in his quarters, but he couldn't remember how he got there.
Then hearing soft breathing nearby, he turned his head slightly and his eyes widened a bit as he saw Michaela sitting slumped in a chair asleep. Glancing downward, he realized she was holding his left hand.
He tried to swallow, but his mouth and throat felt as dry as desert sand. He wondered how long he had been asleep...or ill?
Gazing at her relaxed form with her head tilted to one side, his mouth formed a slight smile.
"Michaela?" he whispered. No response. He tried again, giving her hand a tiny squeeze.
"Michaela?"
She flinched and her eyes opened, staring at him. Then realization dawned that he was returning her gaze and her eyes widened, along with her grin.
"Sully! Oh Sully, you're awake!" she gushed, albeit softly since it was the middle of the night.
"Yeah...how long I been...?" he whispered, gesturing to his prone figure with his other hand.
"You've been delirious with fever for nearly three days." Releasing his hand and raising hers to feel of his damp forehead, she smiled in relief. "Your fever's broken, thank God." Then turning, she filled a glass with fresh water from a pitcher on the bedside table. Lifting his head, she helped him drink a goodly amount. When he had taken his fill, he relaxed back on the pillow with a sigh.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice rough. The last thing he remembered was fighting with a vicious Indian, searching for some yarrow plant and ferns to tend his wound...and hanging onto his horse mile after mile to get back to the fort – and Michaela. He remembered especially how that thought kept him going...Gotta get to Michaela...
"Evidently, the knife One Eye attacked you with had been dipped in some kind of poison. I'm not sure what, but it really... I've had to fight hard to keep you with us," she admitted with a twinkle. "But now that you've awakened and your fever has broken, I'm sure the danger has passed." His eyes twinkled in return as he moved his hand and gingerly felt of the bulky bandage on his side.
"You been takin' care of me?" he asked, suddenly realizing he was naked under the blanket covering his lower half.
Michaela turned a tiny bit pink. "I'm a doctor, Sully. I've...seen everything there is to see before, believe me."
"That right?" he murmured, and she smiled at the mirth in his gaze. Remembering the previous days when she had tended to his needs...down there...she swiftly strove to change the subject before he could embarrass her further.
"The, um, colonel has come to visit you several times...he will be very happy to see you're going to be fine," she murmured, unable to resist reaching to smooth several locks of wavy hair from his face.
"Sounds like the colonel has you to thank for that," he murmured gently, weakly reaching up to grasp her hand and bring it to his mouth, pressing his lips against her fingers. "I guess you really are a good doc, like you been sayin'," he teased softly. Staring into her eyes, he whispered, "Thanks for takin' such good care of me. The Indians would say you have a debt on me."
"We...we all have a debt on each other," she murmured softly, so very thankful he was awake and talking. She determinedly pushed any other thought...or woman...from her mind for the time being.
"Mmm hmm," he agreed with a nod.
Grinning her half smile, one eyebrow rising, she quipped softly, "Why don't we just...call it even?"
With that, she disengaged her hand from his and stood up, moving across the small room and busying herself with 'straightening up,' though in reality she was striving to regain control.
He lay there watching with a very pleased, dreamy smile on his face.
At that moment, there was no place he'd rather be.
