Chapter Twenty-Three

A week later, on a sunny June afternoon, the townspeople of Colorado Springs were living life as they usually did. Cowboys were riding in off the Good Night trail, and saloon fights were breaking out at least once every hour, after a few good rounds of poker could be played. Miners were carting in their week's earnings to buy supplies at Bray's Mercantile, children were laughing and playing as the new school house was built, knowing that soon, they wouldn't get to run around every day. They'd be going to school, and it was only a matter of time before a teacher arrived, and all they wanted was someone nice who wouldn't give them too much work to do.

Horace Bing sat at the telegraph office, while his nephew Lewis read one of the textbooks that he'd be required to read when school started in September. Lewis always liked to be ahead of the game when it came to learning. He had always been a very smart boy, and his uncle Horace was very proud of him.

The telegraph operator heard someone clear his throat, so he looked up from his desk to see a man dressed in a gray suit and top hat with salt and pepper hair staring at him. He held an envelope in his hands, and he had an impatient look in his eyes.

"Can I help ya?" Horace asked, standing and walking toward the counter. The man placed the envelope down on the counter followed by two bits.

"I need the address checked on this," he replied. "I had a lady write it out for me, an' since I don't read so good, I'd like ya to make sure she put the address right."

"Sure thing," Horace said with a charming smile. He looked down at the envelope. "This here doesn't have a return address."

"I'm just passin' through, Mister. I ain't here long."

"I'll go ahead and put one on it anyway. That way, if it gets lost in the mail, maybe somebody'll return it." The older gentleman shrugged. "What's your name?"

"Ethan Cooper," he replied, pulling a flask out of his pocket. He took a sip and screwed the cap back on. Horace was busily scrawling Ethan's name and the town's address onto the envelope. He then read the name and address of the recipient.

"That's right," Ethan said. "Thanks."

"This your wife?" Horace asked, knowing it really wasn't supposed to pry.

"Yes sir," Ethan replied. "She'll get worried if she don't hear from me soon, so I figured I'd let her know that I'm alright, though I ain't found much luck in getting good work. I figure that my best bet is to find somethin' in a big city. All I know is farmin', but I'm sure I can find somethin' else that I'm suited for." Horace smiled.

"Good luck to ya, Mr. Cooper." Ethan tipped his hat, and he walked off. Horace placed the envelope in the outgoing mailbag.

"Afternoon, Horace," Reverend Johnson said with a smile as he walked up. Horace nodded.

"Afternoon, Reverend. How are ya today?"

"Just fine. Yourself?"

"Keepin' busy," Horace replied, tapping his pencil on the wooden counter. "Somethin' I can do for ya?" Realization washed over Timothy's face.

"Oh, yes. Sorry, Horace. Did you send that telegram off? The one to Dr. Quinn in Boston?" Horace sighed and nodded his head.

"Sure did, though I don't see the sense in wastin' two bits to say no when ya could be hirin' her as the doctor." Timothy shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"I tend to agree with you, Horace, but unfortunately, the town council's vote was three to two in opposition of Dr. Quinn."

"I'm tellin' ya Reverend, time comes for electin' a new town council, ya ought to try." At the moment, the town council consisted of Horace, Mr. Bray, Mr. Slicker, Hank Lawson and young Martin Anderson's father Jeb. Jeb didn't vote in favor of the lady doctor, even though his son and daughter-in-law had tried to persuade him. He wasn't very knowledgeable either, so he wasn't the best person to be on a council. Then there was Hank who only cared about Hank. He didn't care what anyone else wanted, and he stuck to his opinions no matter who tried to sway him. He was probably the most stubborn man in town, and his reputation was anything but clean. Unfortunately, Timothy had been out of town when the last election was held.

"I'll think about it," Timothy promised.

"Good," Horace replied. "Maybe if you'd been on the council…" He shook his head. "Well, anyway, she's a doctor, and we need one. It ain't like anybody else is jumpin' at the chance." Timothy nodded.

"I need to get out to the Farnsworth's."

"Nice talkin' to ya, Reverend." Timothy tipped his hat and walked off. Horace turned toward his nephew. Lewis closed his book and looked up at his uncle.

"Uncle Horace, what happens if we don't get a doctor?" Horace shrugged.

"Let's hope we do soon, 'cause with new folks comin' every day, there's bound to be the need for a doctor." He looked at the time. "Lewis, why don't ya go grab some lunch at Grace's?"

"Sure. You want anything?"

"No thanks. I had a late breakfast." Lewis nodded and left his uncle. A young woman walked into the office with a small child at her skirts.

"Mornin' Miss Logan," Horace said with a smile as he glanced at her. A smile spread over his face. She blushed, knowing that he was sweet on her. He'd been sweet on her ever since she came to town with her young daughter. Myra Logan was a mystery. She stayed at the boarding house at the end of town, and she spent all of her time with her daughter Samantha.

"Don't ya mean, 'afternoon', Mr. Bing?" she asked with a smile. Horace nodded.

"Right. What can I do for ya?" he wondered nervously.

"Well, I need to send this letter to St. Louis," she replied. She handed it to him, and he smiled.

"Sure thing." Horace put the postage on it and slipped it into the mailbag."

"Two bits?

"Huh?"

"What do I owe ya?" Myra asked quietly.

"Oh. Uh, two bits." She blushed and put the coins down onto the counter. Samantha started to squirm, so she picked the little girl up into her arms.

"Come along, sweetheart. We'll go have lunch." She nodded at Horace. "Afternoon, Mr. Bing." He smiled as she walked away. He was fascinated by her. She was sweet to everyone, but she was very reserved and quiet. The most he knew about her was that she was a widow. Her husband had died from the Grippe five years ago, not long before little Samantha was born. From what he could tell, Myra had been a young bride who had become an early widow.

Another customer came in, and he sighed silently, breaking out of his thoughts about the pretty young woman who caught his eye. He smiled and continued on with his day as he always did.

"Can I help ya?"

Michaela was in a hurry this afternoon. She was running behind on her errands, and she needed to get to the post within the hour. She also needed to rush her water pitcher down to the kitchen for Martha to take for repair. There was a hairline crack in the base, but that was enough to cause a leak, which had gotten all over one of Michaela's medical journals.

Just as she was turning out of her room with the half-filled pitcher in her hands, she smacked right into someone. Water spilled everywhere, and Michaela squealed in surprise. Sully stood before her, his party suit soaking went. Michaela's hand went over her mouth, and she felt the cold water seeping through the fabric of her skirt.

"Sully! I'm so sorry!" His face was red, and he was laughing, and she felt utterly embarrassed. "Your new suit. Oh, Sully, I'm so sorry."

"It's just water, Michaela. It'll dry," he promised. "Where are you goin' in such a big hurry?"

"I need to get to the post before it's too late. I'm expecting a telegram from Colorado Springs." Sully chuckled.

"Harrison already went for it. He'll be back any time. Ya still got time to change before we go to the party." Michaela's eyes went wide. She looked down at her dress. Thankfully, the dress she'd planned to wear was hanging neatly in her closet. The water had completely soaked through her bodice and corset, and she felt her skin prickling and becoming clammy.

"I suppose you should change too." Sully chuckled and nodded.

"I'll go see if there's somethin' else in my closet."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It must've happened for a reason." Michaela rolled her eyes.

"Yes. The reason would be that I'm clumsy." Sully laughed a little and took the pitcher from her hands. "Careful! It has a leak."

"I'm already wet enough," he replied, glancing down at his suit. "Where does this go?"

"Down to Martha. She's going to have it sealed for me." Sully nodded.

"I'll leave ya alone." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He pulled back a little, and they smiled at one another. She caressed his cheek and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss to the cheek, and then her lips brushed over his. She pulled back and smiled.

"Don't take too long," she said softly. She flushed when she heard her words, and she saw a slightly surprised reaction on Sully's face. "You want to get changed before we go to the party." Sully winked at her and gave her another quick kiss.

"I'll hurry," he promised. Michaela rushed back into her room and closed the door loudly. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. She shook her head, thinking about how foolish she felt at that moment. She moved over to the closet and pulled herself out of her dress. She groaned when she felt how damp her corset was. She had two others to choose from, but she didn't feel like wearing it. She wanted to be free tonight. Her body told her that she wanted to dance with the man she was engaged to marry without whalebones pressing into her ribs. She wanted to feel him right up against her, their clothing acting as the only barriers between their bodies.

She caught herself in her thoughts and blushed wildly. She pulled her corset off and pulled her party dress out of the closet. She admired the fabric with a smile upon her lips. It was a red dress, stunning to her eyes and hopefully pleasing to Sully's. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she tried it on, though she knew she'd feel awkward with her flesh exposed to him.

She pulled the dress on and laced it up. She was able to adjust the sleeve straps so that they hung just off of her shoulders. She shivered, feeling the air hit her skin, and she couldn't help but wonder if she should have chosen something else. Rebecca and Marjorie had insisted upon this dress, however, saying it would make her look absolutely heavenly. She had to admit that she felt beautiful, and she couldn't wait to see the look upon her mother's face when she saw her in it. She felt guilty for a moment, knowing that her mother would not approve, but she really didn't care now. She was happy. She was engaged, and she was going to enjoy her engagement party.

The party had originally been slated for a few days after the engagement took place, but they'd gone to a family dinner first, and now, it was time for the future bride and groom to celebrate their love and dance and dream of the future.

She realized how long she'd been taking when she heard a knock at her door.

"Sully?"

"Yeah? Can I come in?" Michaela quickly finished lacing up the dress, and she smoothed her hands down the skirt. She gave herself a once over in the mirror and turned toward the door. "Michaela?"

"Come in," she called, not sure if she'd actually said the words aloud. But, the door opened a moment later, and Sully was wearing a suit almost identical to the one Michaela had spilled water all over.

"You're a fast changer."

"And you're a slow one. I was 'bout to come check and see if ya pulled that corset too tight or somethin'." Michaela laughed and shook her head. Sully's smile faded, and his eyes focused on how dazzling Michaela looked in her dress.

"Sully?" He was mesmerized. "Sully?"

"You look amazing," he said, his mouth watering. Michaela began to blush as his eyes scanned over her body. She quickly moved to her closet and pulled out a black shawl. She grinned at the sudden look of disappointment in his eyes.

"You'll save me a dance tonight, won't you?" Michaela wondered.

"Are ya kiddin'? You're the only one I'm brave enough to dance with. I'm afraid I might bruise up your poor sisters' feet." Michaela laughed.

"Sully, you're a fine dancer." He gave her a skeptical look, and as she was moving past him, his hand reached out for hers. She bit her bottom lip and turned toward him. Her back was to the door now, and she felt the gap between herself and Sully closing. She wanted so badly to kiss him now, but she was afraid that if that happened, they would go too far. Her body wanted it, but her heart didn't. Not yet, anyway. She pulled her hand from his and smiled nervously. "I should finish here." Sully nodded understandingly and left to wait in the hall. Michaela breathed heavily after she shut the door, and she shook her head, trying to get rid of the tingling sensation that was moving up and down her arm from the hand that Sully had held. She rubbed her goose-fleshed arms for a moment, and once her breathing had returned to normal, she made her way to her mirror and began to fix her hair, pulling it up, twisting the long ponytail and separating it into beautiful red-golden ringlets.

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she slipped into her shoes, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders again and slipped out of her room and down the stairs into the foyer. Sully was waiting with something in his hands, and Michaela saw him smile when she came down the steps.

"What's that?" she wondered as she stepped off of the staircase and made her way toward him.

"Harrison just brought it. It's a telegram from Colorado Springs." Michaela's face paled.

"Oh. What does it say?"

"I don't know. I didn't read it." Michaela sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. "You want me to do the honors?" She shook her head and held her hand out.

"It's ok. I'll read it." Sully handed her the slip of paper, and he watched her face as she read it. He hoped to see a smile spread across her face or a glimmer sparkle in her eyes. Only disappointment shadowed her beautiful features. Finally, a sigh escaped her lips, and she crumpled up the piece of paper. Sully let out an aggravated sigh and pulled his arm around her.

"I'm sorry, Michaela. Maybe if I was there, I could talk some sense into 'em."

"I can't really blame them, Sully. They've been raised without open minds toward women."

"Ya can't give up. Sure, they're stubborn, but I'm pretty sure a certain beautiful lady doctor is too." Michaela smiled a little. "If I know Loren Bray as well as I think I do, he'll change their minds...or at least some of 'em."

"I won't give up," she promised. "Giving up isn't in my blood."

"Right. You're a Quinn," Sully said with a laugh. "C'mon. I'll take ya down to the post so ya can send another telegram." Michaela looked up at the large grandfather clock.

"Sully, we hardly have time! We can't be late to our own engagement party. I mean, what will people think?" she asked, her face blushing.

"We'll make it. I promise," he replied. "I won't let ya be late." Michaela grinned.

"I'm lucky to have you," she whispered as she folded the telegram in her hands. He shook his head.

"We're lucky to have each other."

The incessant wails of Gertrude's young son filled the house. He was born a little early, but he was clearly healthy with a good set of lungs. He never stopped using them. Poor Lydia wasn't getting much sleep, because even though the walls were thick in that house, the child's piercing cries could practically cut through steel. He let out a ferocious wail again, and the sound was grating at her nerves. She knew it was something that she had to get used to, but she was almost certain this child was the loudest she'd ever heard.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She'd covered the dark circles under her eyes with powder, and it had blended in nicely with her skin. She dragged about the house most days, and she was still ordered to rest as much as possible. Thankfully, Gertrude had hired a maid, though the maid wasn't very efficient. She didn't pick up things that could harm the baby, and Lydia found herself doing almost as much work as she had been before the maid arrived. She took it easy and got plenty of sleep, however, but her expanding waistline was not going to get any smaller, and it was already becoming difficult to perform some tasks.

She looked at the dress she wore. It was heavy and thick, and it was uncomfortable, especially for a June evening, but it hid her secret, and that's exactly what she needed it to do for now. She hadn't told Albert yet, and she was more than ready to let him know, but she knew that if she did, she might lose him forever. It frightened her that she didn't want to lose him, and she had come to rely on him as a good friend. She was falling for him, and she was afraid of falling. She wanted to pull herself back up and keep moving forward, though she knew that her secret was weighing her down, making her fall faster. What was it? Was it her sudden change in hormones that made her feel this way toward Albert, or was it the true feeling of absolute love she felt every moment her heart beat and every time her mind wandered to him. She knew Albert, but she didn't think she knew him well enough to determine how he would react to her pregnancy. He had been very understanding about what had happened with David, but now that a child was involved, it was soon going to be obvious to the world that she had sinned and that she deserved this consequence for her actions.

Shaking her head, she moved toward the window. Most young girls who found themselves in this predicament were sent away by their parents to live with distant relatives or out in the country where they couldn't be seen by the public. They would give birth, and they would probably never see their children again. What was it that made her different? She lived alone. Yes, she had her cousin and her cousin's family, but she felt like she was alone no matter if those family members were around. The only time she didn't feel alone was when she was with Albert. She was afraid of telling him and watching him leave. She was afraid of being lonely for the rest of her life.

Lydia felt selfish. She wanted Albert in her life, but she had to give him that choice. She had to let him decide if he wanted to be associated with a woman who had sinned as an unmarried woman and bore the fruit of that lust. She felt her cheeks growing hot from embarrassment and anger. She was slipping into self-loathing again, and that wasn't a place she wanted to be. She wanted to be happy, and she was only happy with Albert.

He was been so sweet, so protective. He'd watched her carefully over the past week, checking in on her every day to make sure she didn't need anything. He was completely in the dark, though a part of her knew he was smart enough to know that her problem was something that was going to change her life forever. And funnily enough, she wanted it. She wanted to be a mother, but she didn't want it this way. She wanted the fairy tale of falling in love, getting married and having perfect children bore from the labors of a mother who hadn't sinned. Her hands were unclean; tainted by the filth of her transgressions.

"Lydia! For Heaven's sakes," Gertrude exclaimed, bursting into the room with a screaming baby in her arms. Lydia turned quickly.

"What is it, Gertrude?"

"Haven't you heard me calling for you?"

"I'm sorry," Lydia replied, cringing. "I must have been lost in thought." (Or she hadn't heard over the extremely painful squalling of the baby.)

"Mr. Johnson has come for you." Lydia's heart began to race, and she nodded.

"Lydia, are you sure you're feeling up to going? We're all worried about you. Mr. Johnson is seriously considering going alone!"

"No. I'm fine," Lydia assured her. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror before stepping out with her handbag. She found Albert waiting in the foyer, and his eyes sparkled when he saw her.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked her. Her smile faded, and she rolled her eyes.

"A simple 'you look nice' would have sufficed," she teased.

"You look more than nice. You look…stunning." Though she felt like the lowest life form ever created, Lydia couldn't help but blush at his words, and she smiled. "Can I get you anything?" Albert asked quietly. Lydia frowned.

"Well, you could check on Gertrude. Ask her if she needs anything. Her husband is out of town, and this will be her first night alone with the baby." Albert nodded. "I'll wait outside." Albert disappeared into the back of the house, and Lydia walked outside and smiled up at the night sky. The moon was out now, and the stars were twinkling like tiny diamonds. But something caught her eye. A figure across the cobblestone street stood as still as a statue, watching her from behind a dark patch. She froze, her hand on the doorknob, and her surprise caused her to nearly lose her balance. It wasn't until he began to move across the street that she could move again. She caught herself, holding firmly to the porch rail. He was moving toward her, and she prayed that he was a figment of her imagination; some dark being that haunted her and caused hallucinations. Instead of turning and walking into the house, her hand instinctively moved toward her stomach, and she covered herself protectively. "David."