Chapter Sixteen

Michaela sat at her opened bedroom window, listening to the sounds of the birds chirping and the horses clippity-clopping down the streets. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of apple blossoms in her yard. She only wished Sully was with her to share this moment.

It was May, and it had been two very long months since Michaela's attack. Her physical wounds had healed, and all that remained was a slight scar that hid under her hair. She had had a long journey since her ordeal, and she had sat through court hearings and had to face David throughout those sessions. Her father had been there by her side the entire time, but somehow, David had managed to walk free.

As she gazed out of her window, she couldn't help but feel as if she was gazing out through the bars of a prison cell. This room had been her place of comfort for two months now, and she rarely left. It wasn't by force, but it was by choice, because it was the only place she could have quiet and sit and read over Sully's letters, which had come in on a regular basis.

Michaela sighed heavily when she thought of her current situation. She only went into the hospital twice a week, and Josef only worked when she worked. He had been extremely protective of her, and she knew it wasn't good for him or for his career. It saddened her, but he refused go in to work without her. She knew he partially blamed himself for what had happened to her that night. He felt that he should have had someone with her at all times after what had happened with David grabbing her and with him showing up unexpectedly. The stalking had been another factor he should have considered. Michaela felt like a fool, but she had been feeling out of sorts that night, and she hadn't thought enough to wait until morning to go out. It was fate, and she couldn't have changed it, though she wish she would have made an effort.

A small frown came to her lips as she glanced down at Sully's last letter. His attitude seemed to be changing gradually. He was telling her of so many adventures he'd been on, about his new Cheyenne friends and about so many things going on in the town. He loved Colorado Springs. He loved being there, and she felt guilty that he felt he had to come back. She didn't want to be a burden. She didn't want to be the reason he would leave the place he loves most. With a sigh, she looked out of her window again. It was a beautiful day, and she wanted to get out. But, getting out meant that David might be around the next corner.

It made her sick when she thought about the way he was still roaming the streets. He'd spent a few nights in jail, and he'd hired the best lawyer in the city, and Michaela was almost certain that they paid off the judge. He ruled that Dr. Lewis had been under a lot of stress from losing his job and the accident he suffered in California, that he had probably been disoriented and acted out from aggression. He'd been released, but he had been ordered to seek psychiatric counseling once a week. She scoffed. That left him free to watch her, free to attack her, and it left him free to try to rape her again.

Albert had acted as an attorney for Michaela, and he had pushed for life in jail, but David walked free, and Michaela would never forget the smirk upon his lips as he walked out of the courtroom that day. She hadn't seen him since, and she hoped she never would again. She only hoped there would be no other victims.

Of course, the judge had told David not to approach the Quinn residence, and to keep at least one hundred yards away. He was told not to come near Michaela again, because if caught, it would result in his arrest. Michaela knew that wouldn't stop him. If he wasn't caught, there'd be no way to take him in to jail. If only cameras were available for portable usage to snap a picture any time and anywhere…then they'd have proof if he came near her. She hoped he never would.

Michaela sighed a little as she thought about her letters to Sully. She'd told him everything that had happened in her life except for the attack by David. She wanted him to know she was well, which she was. She didn't want him to over react and come all the way back to Boston when she was perfectly fine. She wanted life to continue as normally as possible, and she'd managed to do that. Her father and mother, however, had urged her to seek counseling to deal with what happened, but Michaela didn't feel it was necessary. She didn't feel afraid. She was only angry and disgusted. David hadn't won. He hadn't succeeded in bending her to his will. She would never give him the satisfaction, and she was proving that she had moved on, and he meant nothing to her.

Michaela was distracted from her thoughts by a rapping at the door.

"Come in!" she replied with a yawn. Elizabeth stepped into the room. She'd been more attentive to her daughter's needs, and the two never spoke of Sully together. It was only a matter of time before one of them brought him up. Michaela was happy that she and her mother talked more, however, and it made her feel closer to her than ever.

No, lately, they talked about Michaela's feelings, and Michaela felt as if the topic had been dragged through the mud, but she appreciated how hard her mother was trying. Michaela never gave her parents the full details of that night, though it was pretty clear how bad he'd hurt her by the markings he'd left on her body. She had only made it clear that he didn't make it as far as he wanted to go, and she was grateful that she'd willed herself to survive.

"Lunch is ready," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Martha made your favorite." Michaela frowned and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm not feeling very hungry right now." Michaela looked down at a blank piece of paper, wondering what to write in her next letter to Sully. Her pen made little circles about the page, and Elizabeth sighed.

"What's the matter?" She really didn't have to ask. She knew. Michaela was thinking of Sully. Elizabeth let out an exasperated breath. "My dear, you have got to put him out of your mind. He's not coming back." Michaela rolled her eyes with her back turned to her mother. Elizabeth didn't know what she was talking about, though Michaela couldn't help but wonder if it'd be best if he never came back. Leaving the place you love so much would have to be hard.

When Michaela said nothing, Elizabeth shook her head and left Michaela alone. Michaela pulled Sully's last letter out of her desk drawer and began to read over it with a sad smile on her face.

"Dear Michaela," she read aloud. "How are you? I hope everything is all right. You sounded kind of tense in your last letters. I hope David isn't causing you any trouble, because if he is, I'll take care of it. Before you even think it, don't worry, I wouldn't dream of stepping on your toes. I know you like to take charge of situations by yourself, but sometimes you can't always do it alone. I'd be happy to rough him up a little." Michaela loved the way he tried to lighten the tone of his words, though she knew he was completely serious. "Well, I finally mastered horseback riding, and I'm even riding bareback without a saddle. Cloud Dancing is teaching me the Cheyenne ways, and it's really opened up some new doors that I never knew existed. You might be surprised when you see me next." Michaela wondered why, but she knew that she couldn't wait to see him, though she wondered if she ever truly would. "Wolf has become my constant shadow. He's always there, and I'm starting to get used to it. He's helped me out of some scrapes, and he even helped me break up a fight at the saloon. The folks in town are getting used to me being here, though most of them don't really accept the fact that I'm a friend to the Cheyenne. Loren and Abagail are pretty accepting of it, but it's hard to find a person who has sympathy toward the Cheyenne. I can't wait to see you again. I'm sure you'll be just as beautiful as I remember. Until then, Sully."

Tears slipped down Michaela's cheeks, sending her dreams of the future with them. She wondered if he'd received her last letter yet, and as those thoughts ran through her mind, she began to wonder if she was wrong to have written what she did. What would Sully think now?

"Ma!" Brian exclaimed, running into the house. "Me and Matthew caught a huge fish down at the creek!" Charlotte laughed as she stood by the stove, preparing the skillet.

"Is it cleaned yet?"

"Nope. Matthew's doin' that now."

"Good. Where's your sister?"

"She's out behind the barn playin' with her doll," Brian said, rolling her eyes. "Girls." Charlotte grinned.

"Go on out and help your brother. Your Pa will be home from town in an hour or so, and we wanna have supper on the table before breakfast gets here." She joked as Brian grinned at her. He ran along, and she began to feel dizzy. She swallowed hard and sat down at the kitchen table. Her hand moved to her expanding belly. She felt the baby kicking strongly inside of her, and she thanked God for that feeling. Just two months ago, she thought she was going to lose this child, but she'd willed herself to stay strong for that baby, and throughout the night, the pain subsided, and the miscarriage never came.

She hadn't known until about a week ago that the baby was still alive until she felt the first kick. Now, the baby kicked all of the time, and it was such a relief! Sometimes, however, she wondered if Ethan would have preferred the miscarriage. She never told him of what had happened, and he hadn't returned home until the pain was long gone, but she couldn't help but wonder if he thought it'd be better without this fourth child.

Ethan had been distant lately, traveling into town at least one extra time a week. He was rarely home, and Charlotte was stuck without a wagon and with three noisy children running about. She was dealing with the pregnancy as best as she could, and the children were helping with the chores they could do. Matthew was really stepping up and doing a lot of the work Ethan usually did when he was home.

This pregnancy had driven a wedge even further between Ethan and Charlotte, and while it saddened her, it also made her stronger and more self-sufficient. She was lonely, however. The women in the nearest town didn't care much for the outsiders, and Charlotte rarely ventured into town anymore, due to the fact that she tired easily. She went when there was an emergency, but there hadn't been a lot of pregnancies lately. As a midwife, she knew to take it easy and stay around the house, though they were going to have to get in touch with the nearest doctor soon, because the baby was growing by the day, and every day, September grew closer.

Charlotte was surprised when Ethan came through the door. She knew it was early for him to be home from town.

"Ethan?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Ethan smiled and moved toward her. She smelled alcohol on his breath. He began to kiss her, and she pushed him away, not in the mood for his advances.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he asked.

"You're drunk. I'd rather you not have to liquor up to be romantic." She poured him a cup of coffee and settled back in the chair. Ethan sat down across from her. She saw that he was now avoiding her eyes. "What is it now? What'd you do?"

"I…I need some money."
"What for?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I lost the money on that mare I sold."

"Playin' poker?"

"Yeah, darlin'. I just need enough to win the money back and double it." Charlotte sighed.

"Ya know I don't have no money, Ethan. If I did have it, I wouldn't give it to ya." She stood and moved toward the stove to put some butter in the skillet. "Now go on out back and sober yourself up. I don't want the children seein' ya like this." Ethan hung his head in shame and tottered out of the house. When Charlotte knew he was long gone, she moved toward the bed. She knelt by the floor and pulled a box out from under the bed. She opened it and pulled out a pouch. She opened it up and counted the contents. One, two, three, four…five hundred dollars lay in the palm of her hand. If Ethan knew she had this, it would be gone in a heartbeat. She'd had most of the money since she was a young girl, but she made sure to put a dollar or two in there every month. This money was for her children. Someday, they might need it, and she'd have it to give to them. She couldn't let their father take it and gamble away their futures.

Charlotte sighed and rubbed her belly. Would Ethan ever learn? Would he ever truly understand that family was more important than gambling, winning and drinking? There was so much life to live, and Ethan was throwing it all away.

Albert stepped out of his home and placed a hat upon his head. He straightened his tie and began to walk. He no longer walked toward the Quinn household. Every now and then, he would walk past Lydia's home and hope to catch a glimpse of her. But, he hadn't seen her since that night two months ago. He could still remember her striking gray eyes and her bold black hair.

Meanwhile, Lydia finished washing the dishes in the kitchen, and she dried her hands on her apron. She pulled the apron off and decided that she was taking the day off. Her cousin's husband was staying home everyday now, because the baby's birth was so close. He was a doctor anyway, and he would be the one to deliver the child.

She moved into her room and decided she wanted to look nice today. So, she pulled on a light green dress and fastened up the buttons. The dress was perfect, she thought. The lace came up from her bust to her neck, and it was intricately designed with swirling patterns. The green really brought out the flecks of blue in her gray eyes. She studied herself in the mirror, and she let her long black hair down from its prison of pins. It cascaded down her back in a flood of midnight ringlets.

She noticed that the dress she wore didn't fit her right anymore. It had been more difficult to slip on, but she managed. Perhaps she'd wear her corset from now on until she could drop off the weight.

Lydia swallowed hard and gripped the bedpost as she became dizzy. She closed her eyes and settled down onto the bed. She didn't want to move until the wave of nausea was gone, and she wondered for a moment if David had passed some horrid disease to her. She'd seen it in many young women in her years as a nurse, but she never figured she would get one herself. She silently scolded herself for her time spent with David, and she cursed herself for ever being attracted to him.

She'd heard about the trial and what he'd done to Dr. Quinn, and she felt horrible about it. She wanted to speak with Michaela about what had happened, but she didn't quite know how to go about it. How was she supposed to tell Michaela that she had been one of David's many distractions from thinking of her? Perhaps if she'd kept him in her company a while longer, he wouldn't have done such a thing. No, no, she couldn't blame herself for something that wasn't in her control.

Soon, Lydia felt as good as new, physically, and she slipped out of her room, past her cousin's room and down the stairs. She made it outside and stood on the porch steps, looking out over the beautiful town. She adjusted her money purse onto her wrist and began to walk. She didn't know where she was going to go, but she was going to feel free for just a little while.

As she walked, she felt the warm sun shine down on her. She felt wonderful for the first time in a long time, and she even had a smile on her face when she crossed paths with Albert Johnson.

"Miss Grayson. What a surprise," he said with a charming smile. "It's been a while."

"Mr. Johnson," she said with a smile. "Yes, it has."

"I see you've shied away from sweeping off porch steps?"

"Ah, I'm taking the day off," she replied. "Is it any of your business?" There she went putting up another wall.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't," she replied, her cheeks flushing red. He couldn't tell if she was angry or merely uncomfortable.

"I think we've started off on the wrong foot. At least let me buy you something for lunch?" Lydia shook her head.

"No, that's fine."

"Please? I'd like the company."
"I'm sure there are plenty of other women in this city you'd rather spend your time with, Mr. Johnson." Just as she was turning away, Albert cleared his throat, ready to be bold.

"You're the only one I see that's stopping to talk to me," he pointed out. She stopped and turned slowly.

"Why is talking to me so important to you?"

"We don't have to talk. All we have to do is have lunch. What do you say?" Lydia felt her stomach responding to the mention of food. She ate a lot more lately, and she knew that was the cause of the tightness of her dress. She sighed, too tired to argue.

"I know a nice café nearby," she said with a smile. Albert held his arm out to her, and she stepped forward nervously. Should she really take a chance with him? The last time she'd taken a chance with a man, she'd been burned worse than she ever could have imagined. Trust was very difficult for her now, and trusting a man seemed nearly impossible. Though, she rarely trusted herself anymore. She felt disgust everyday of her life for what she'd done.

"Miss Grayson?" She swallowed hard, pushing her thoughts away. She couldn't freeze up like this forever. She had to let herself feel the way she used to feel. She had to remember the way she was before David happened. She stepped forward again and linked her arm with his. They began to walk, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her nerves. Not every man was like David. Not every man would hurt her. She had to believe it. She had to believe that she was allowed to be happy. Perhaps Albert could make her smile again, or maybe he would even make her laugh. She didn't know what to expect, but anything had to be better than the endless nights of tear stained pillows and the constant fear that eternal damnation awaited her.

Sully walked into Grace's Café with Wolf at the heels of his moccasins. Grace smiled at her customer and walked over, picking up the skirt of her dress as to not trip in the dust. Sully took a seat, and she moved to pour him some lemonade.

"Afternoon," she said with a smile.

"Afternoon, Grace. How's business?"

"Pickin' up. It's nice to know that so many folks like my cookin'. I've only been open a week, and things are goin' real good!" Sully smiled.

"It's good to hear that."

"Meatloaf's the special today."

"Sounds just fine. Thanks, Grace." She nodded and went to fill his order. Sully looked around, noticing that he was getting quite a few stares. He was used to it. While Abby and Loren accepted him, most folks didn't like him much for his friendship with the Cheyenne, but they tolerated him. That didn't mean they couldn't stare. He couldn't really blame them for being surprised. He'd come to town in fancy Boston suits, and after a week with the Cheyenne, he'd started wearing tanned buckskin pants, a pair of moccasins, a simple white shirt and a strand of black, red and white beads around his neck. He even carried a tomahawk with him, and many folks wondered if it was used for scalping. Of course it wasn't. Sully had originally used it for finding small branches to use as kindling, and he had soon found that it helped with hunting and other every-day activities. It was a good weapon of defense, but he hoped he'd never have to use it in such a way.

"Sully!" came a voice from nearby. Sully looked up from his glass of lemonade to spot Horace Bing, the telegraph operator, rushing toward him with an envelope in his hands. Sully's heart skipped a beat, and he stood. Wolf yipped and whined for a moment, but he realized his master wasn't in danger.

"Hey Horace."

"Got another letter from Boston," Horace said, knowing that Sully would want it as soon as possible. He always made sure to bring the letters to him personally when they arrived. Sully obviously looked forward to them so much!

"Thanks Horace." Sully dug into the pocket of his buckskin coat and pulled out two bits to pay the telegraph operator. Sully sat down as Grace brought over his meal. He went ahead and paid her and looked down at the print on the envelope. The writing was Michaela's familiar signature. Receiving a letter from her made him happy, and it made him feel closer to her. Being so far away wasn't easy! He only hoped she had good things to say this time around, though he couldn't help but feel that she was holding back from telling him everything that was happening in her life.

He finally opened up the envelope and pulled out the letter. He smiled when he began to read it to himself.

Dear Sully, I was happy to read in your last letter that you are doing well. It sounds like Colorado Springs is stunning. Don't worry about the people here. Every city has people who don't take well to new people. Boston is one of them, though I don't see how. It seems that I see someone I've never seen before almost every day. Colorado Springs is far smaller, so I'm sure you see the same people everyday. Anyway, I'm well. I've been keeping myself busy, but I feel that it's almost time to venture out on my own and away from my father's practice. Working with Father has been a wonderful experience, but I fear that I'm only hurting him by continuing to practice under his support. I need to run my own practice. I only hope I'll be able to do this on my own.

Sully couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Michaela Quinn could do almost anything if she put her mind to it. He knew her well enough to know that.

I must tell you that I feel you are happier in Colorado Springs than you've ever been anywhere else. I don't feel right about you coming back to Boston. I think that if you're happy where you are working for Mr. Smith, you should stay. Don't worry about me. I don't want you to be unhappy, and I fear that coming back to Boston will cause your unhappiness. Yours, Michaela.

What! What was that all about? Sully had not expected anything like that in this letter. Michaela didn't sound like herself, but it certainly was her handwriting. She didn't want him to come back? She didn't want him to be unhappy. Well, that was almost an oxymoron in itself. He wouldn't be happy without her! Couldn't she understand that by now? He needed her, and having the hope to hold onto that he was going to get to see her again was what kept him grounded and working hard. He needed her in his life more than he needed Colorado Springs, Welland Smith's money or anything else.

But then the 'what ifs' began to surface. What if she was happy without him? What if she'd found someone? What if she didn't need him anymore. Fear washed over him, and dread made him begin to tremble. He couldn't think now, and he felt ill. He needed to clear his head. He needed to be alone.