The sound of hoof beats pounding on the ground filled her ears on this warm summer day. It was the day before the 4th of July and the whole town was roaring with excitement. The twang of voices was heard, one particular strong one from the saloon across the dirt road, standing out.

"I ain't serving you nothing!" it stormed. Her brown eyes observed the scene in front of her. "I don't serve no Negroes!" The upset bartender threw a black man out of the saloon with one great pounding. He lay there, helpless and bleeding quite fast.

Monica sped from her watching place, willing to help the man who lay unconscious-or so she thought. She ran over to him and knelt down, pulling her handkerchief out of her frock and dabbing his forehead. To her surprise, she found that he was just waking up. She looked up to see the angelic form of Andrew standing above her, a disappointed look on his face. His emerald green eyes showed sorrow and he knelt down beside her.

"Are you Adam's replacement?" Monica asked the stranger-though she had been briefly introduced to him before. He nodded. "Is it his time?"

"No, not if you can get help fast enough," he answered sadly. He put his hand on hers and squeezed it. "Please hurry, my friend. If you don't, there's going to be a terrible uproar in this town. This shouldn't have happened." She managed a nod and pulled her hand away. She missed Adam who had been assigned to Search and Rescue for a while. She hardly knew this angel, and she didn't really care to. He seemed too…too. She didn't know what she thought of him yet. All she knew was that she didn't like to work with him.

"Robert E.!" a woman's voice cried. A beautiful black woman ran from a small eatery just down the road. She put her hand over her mouth and gasped. "Who did this?" She looked around and tried to meet gazes with the people of the town. They didn't answer, and just kept on going with their daily work. Hardly anyone believed in meeting a black person's eyes.

"Is there a doctor in town?" Monica asked, her Irish lilt quiet and shy. The woman nodded. She pointed down the street to a small building. "You stay here. I'll go get him." Monica stood up and touched the arm of the woman.

"It's a she," she told Monica softly. "Michaela Sully." Monica stopped for a moment and ran the name through her mind. It sounded mighty familiar. It wouldn't be till much later when she placed it.

Monica held her frocks up as she tromped up the steps of the small building and lifted her hand to the door. She read the sign. It was indeed a she. The Irish angel thought that strange in a town like this. Back then, women were of little importance, and that's why it was so tough for them. She gently knocked on the old door. Sooner than she had expected, a small and petite woman answered it. Her long brown hair was tied back into a braid.

"What can I do for you?" she asked politely. Her voice was that of the richer states.

"There was a man beat over there. He is unconscious but starting to wake up," Monica replied. She pointed over to where the black woman held her husband tightly.

"Robert E.!" the doctor gasped. She grabbed her black medicine bag and rushed across the dusty road. "Oh, Grace," she said to the black woman. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know, Michaela, I just don't exactly know. But if it hadn't been for that woman…she just appeared out of nowhere. It was like God sent her to save Robert E."

Michaela nodded and spoke, "Yes, she saved his life. Now I'm going to need some help carrying him," she said. Grace pointed down to her moaning husband. "Go get some chlorophyll for me. He's waking up. We can't have him awaken yet-not quite. It's right in my bag over there." Grace nodded and handed her a small bottle of clear liquid. While she was at it, Michaela looked over in the direction that the mysterious woman had been. She wasn't there.

That's impossible, Michaela thought.

Andrew sighed as he sat by Robert E.'s side. He put his hands in his head and ran his fingers through his short, blond hair. He whispered a prayer. There was still no answer from the Father. Assignments like these were hard. He guessed that the man beside him would be okay. After all, he had just received a few blows to the stomach. So why was he assigned here?

"Grace," Michaela said softly. "Could you get Colleen and Andrew for me, please?" Grace nodded. The angel of death heard the sound of the door slam almost off its hinges as Grace exited the clinic.

Robert E. was still unconscious from the chlorophyll and Michaela was now observing his wounds. They weren't terribly bad. She seemed to be digging for something else in him-something deeper than bruises. She suspected there was something more.

"Here's Colleen, Dr. Mike," Grace said, dragging a young-looking girl into the small room.

"Ma, Andrew is out of town right now," Colleen said in her sweet western lilt. She quickly pulled her hair back behind her ears. The angel of death watched the young girl put her hand over her mouth at the sight of Robert E. on the bed. She gasped and touched Michaela's arm. "Oh, Ma," she said. "Is he going to be al right?"

"I don't know…" the doctor's voice trailed off when she looked up and saw Grace standing in the doorway, her hand on her stomach.

"Oh, Michaela, please say he's going to live. There's no way I can take care of this baby alone," Grace cried. A few tears streamed down her dark cheeks. "How could he not live from just a few punches?"

"Grace, why don't you step outside for a little while. I'll be out in just a few minutes," Dr. Mike suggested. Reluctantly Grace nodded and walked out of the room. Once again, Andrew heard the door in the front of the building slam almost off its hinges.

"Ma," Colleen asked, casting a worried and confused look at Michaela. "I don't understand why you're preparing for surgery. She pointed towards the supplies that her mother was taking out of drawers and cupboards.

"Colleen, what I'm worried about is that whoever did this sent a blow to his head. You might not have noticed it for it rests at the back of the skull. I'm afraid it might have caused something greater than a bruise."

"Like what?" the teenager asked. She peered at Michaela with curiosity bleaching her blue eyes.

"I do not wish to discuss the condition quite yet. I would like to make sure first," Dr. Mike explained. "I don't wish to upset you so." Colleen nodded though she still didn't comprehend the situation. "Please get some sheets. We're going to need them." Colleen nodded and exited the room.

Michaela stood alone beside Robert E.'s bed, staring at him with wonder. She checked his pulse one more time. It was slow. She put her hand on his forehead and sighed.

"Oh, God," she prayed. "Help me."