Chapter 4—"The Circus"

Sully grasped the dead weight of the woman in his arms, holding her close as the town began to circle her like buzzing flies, speculating, salivating to take a bite out of this contradiction, this stranger.

Horace scratched his head, inching closer, observing her dirty hands and torn dress. "Looks like she was their prisoner."

Loren nodded in agreement. "They must have been forcin' her to wear that injun dress."

Jake, always the ring leader, raised his eyebrows and leaned back suggestively. "Forcin' her to do all kinda things."

Michaela caught Dorothy's eyes across the street as Loren and Jake glared at the woman. She knew exactly what they were thinking, and she couldn't believe she allowed her thoughts to travel there as well. Michaela shook her head and turned to Sully, but he was already moving away from the lines towards the clinic.

Michaela quickly followed him, and she could already see the frustration and disgust in his back and shoulders.

Dorothy quickly moved through the crowd of people and grasped Michaela's hand before she made it to the clinic door. "I'd like to talk to her," she asked eagerly as the rest of the townsfolk tried to peek inside at the White Indian woman.

Sully stopped and adjusted the woman in his arms. "She's a sick woman, not a story, Dorothy."

And with that, he went into the clinic. Michaela watched him place the woman down on the table and turned back to the pressing crowd. "She's not talking to anyone at the moment, she needs treatment."

Michaela turned from them, and just as they attempted to push their way inside, Sully came back to the door and slammed it in their faces.

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The room was deathly quiet as Michaela began to examine the woman. Michaela lifted her hand—dirt was deeply embedded in her nails and the edges of her cuticles were singed with the hope of dried blood.

Michaela glanced at Sully as she held her hand open and felt her wrist for a pulse. He nodded knowingly. "It's not hers, is it?"

"I can't find the wound anywhere." Sully took the stethoscope from Colleen's hands and gave them to Michaela.

"Here," he said with a soft smile. Michaela quickly took the instrument out of his hands, pretending she didn't see the sweet, inappropriate grin on his face.

She stepped in front of him and pressed the chestpiece against the woman's heart. "Her heartbeat seems strong ... Her breathing is regular."

Suddenly, her eyes caught the slight indention at the top of her skull, and Michaela quickly ran her fingers through her matted hair, finding her way to the cut flesh.

Colleen pushed to her tippy-toes, wanting to see the action. "What's wrong with her, Dr. Mike?"

Mike shook her head. "The wound doesn't look too deep…"

Then, like a caged tiger breaking loose, the woman inhaled sharply and burst off of the table, her eyes wild as she knocked and clawed the new supplies off of the shelves, sending Brian, Colleen, and Matthew fleeing across the room, as if they were being attacked by an animal.

"Don't be frightened!" Michaela cried out, trying to reach her without success. The woman was spinning, looking up, the blue gone and the white taking over, searching for her Aenôhenehovohe, something familiar, but nothing was familiar or right, and there were too many people around, too many people talking, but then, there were two large hands on her shoulders. Then, she was back in the woods, being pulled away from Aenôhenehovohe. She clawed his shirt, her fingers tangling in his necklaces as she pushed away from him. Her finger hooked around a pouch at the end of rawhide, and he held up the medicine bag for her. "Hováneeh ónêšeotse vai! No one will hurt you! Hováneeh ónêšeotse vai!"

Michaela gauged the woman as she calmed momentarily, clutching the Indian medicine bag, holding on to its tanned familiarity for dear life. Michaela came up beside her, "It's alright. No one will hurt you."

The woman shook, the gentle foreign voice no comfort as she sought solace, only finding the medicine pouch and connected to that, a man—a white man with pleading blue eyes that weren't white.

Sully spoke rapidly as she froze, chilled in his eyes, "No one will hurt you. Hováneeh ónêšeotse vai!"

Matthew, pressed against the wall, asked quickly, "Does she understand Cheyenne?"

"He-véhestove vai étónêsóotse?" Sully asked as he helped her sit back on the examination tab, her arms now solidly attached to his forearms.

Colleen almost stepped forward to help, but when the only made feral moaning cries from the back of her throat, she stayed back in the corner. "I don't think understands Cheyenne or English."

Brian stepped away from the wall, fascination and concern filling his eyes as he observed her. "Maybe she's just too scared to talk is all."

Michaela nodded, putting her hand on Brian's back. "You may be right, Brian. Why don't you all stay with her a minute?"

Michaela quickly reached for Sully's elbow, and he fumbled blindly for her hand as he took his arms and hands back from the woman. As the children hesitantly replaced him, he finally escaped with Michaela into the hallway, out of the circus ring.

"What do you…" Michaela stopped suddenly, feeling the warm liquid against her palm, and lifted his hand, seeing a deep scratch mark from the top of his finger to the bottom of his wrist. "Are you alright?"

Sully tried to take his hand away, feigning indifference to the pain. "I'm fine. It's nothin'. She just—"

Michaela held his hand in her own, ignoring his protests as she quickly pulled a spool of gauze from her apron, wrapping his left hand quickly. "When she's settled, I'll take care of you." They eyes caught for a moment, but Michaela continued hurriedly, "Her nails were filled with dirt and—"

"I gotcha, Dr. Mike," Sully swallowed, still trying to catch his breath. "With the way everyone was circlin' her, I'm surprised she didn't do worse."

"What do you make of her?" Michaela asked as she saw the red come through the white.

Sully took his bandaged hand back, feeling the open flesh under the white. "She doesn't trust anyone. And after the massacre she's just seen, I can't say I blame her."

Michaela frowned, baffled by actions and words. "But the army said they rescued her."

The army. Sully had lost all faith in the United States army after the Sand Creek Massacre. The army. What hypocrites and liars. He leaned forward, feeling his voice grow raspy. "Then why isn't she happy to see us? Wherever she came from, she musta been livin' with the Indians a while. She's adopted their ways."

Michaela didn't know what to think, but she saw the sure look in Sully's eyes, and somehow she knew to trust it, even though she was blind to it. Suddenly, Colleen's cracked voice broke through the hallway door, "Sully, Dr. Mike! She's gone!"

Michaela pushed past Sully as he stumbled back but kept following her. "What?" Michaela burst into the room, pushing her hair back, a moment of vertigo hitting her, as she wondered if it was anything close to how the stranger felt.

Matthew tried to stop her but she just walked out!" Brian cried, running towards the clinic door. Michaela looked toward her open front door, swinging like a fence gate, and she could hear the crowd outside as they finally got the show they had been waiting for.

As the woman breathed the outside air once again, a net of hands and voices were soon cast upon her, pulling her in, talking to her in clown voices, over animated jugglers trying to touch and twirl and throw her out onto a tightrope of normalcy.

"Welcome to our town!" Horace said boisterously, making her jump away.

Dorothy caught her elbow and talked slowly, as if she were speaking to a dull child, "My name's Dorothy Jennings ... What's your name?"

Jake jumped to the other side. "What'd those savages do to you?"

Loren said more than asked, "Did they hurt you?"

Dorothy closed her arm around the woman protectively. "I don't think she wants to talk about that right now, fellas. I bet she wants to get out of those dirty clothes and into something nice."

Loren nodded, grabbing her other arm. "Let's take her over to the store!"

Sully and Michaela pushed their way through the roaring crowd, and Michaela scrabbled for Sully's good hand, but he had already made his way ahead, his voice booming out across the townsfolk. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Jake scoffed at him as the mob pushed her towards the store. "Whattya you know?"

The crowd marched away from the clinic, leading their star attraction to her dressing room. Sully reached for Michaela hand behind him, but she had already moved ahead with the children and the townsfolk.

As Loren charged ahead into his store, he turned around and smiled at the wide eyed creature, offering generously, "Anything you want—free, of course."

"We'll get you all cleaned up." Dorothy took a cloth from the counter, wiping the dirt off her face like a clown's white make-up.

"I'll give you a nice haircut." Jake's fingers turned into a pair of scissors and he sliced her hair, causing the woman to jump away towards the door.

Dorothy reached for a dark blue fabric, the woman's eyes twitching back and forth between the two points. "I know you're nervous, but we're all real nice folks!"

Horace spread his hands out, offering himself. "You'll like us once you get to know us!"

Dorothy finally grabbed the dress and pressed it against the woman's chest. "This color goes real pretty with your eyes."

The woman shook her head, feeling the bars of her cage pushing up once again. Dorothy grimaced, but continued, forcing a lighter blue dress in her face. "Alright, if you don't like that one, we'll try this one."

The Reverend tried to pull Horace and Jake back, seeing the woman's eyes flash white. "I think she's a little overcome—"

However, it was more than hands and scissors and gestures and dressers, the bars flashed through her veins, and suddenly, her muscles stopped performing and went completely rigid. The blue turned to white, and she fell backwards, gasping for air before she passed out in Matthew's arms.

"Dr. Mike!" he screamed as he held her limp form. Michaela and Sully finally made their way inside, and Michaela dropped to the ground next to the semi-unconscious woman.

"Give her some room!" Michaela ordered the crowd, as she began to examine her. The show was closing, and the crowd obeyed, but they still didn't stop gawking at the woman. Sully kneeled down beside Michaela, waiting for her diagnosis.

Losing patience, Loren pressed, "What's wrong with her?"

Jake offered his diagnosis, "Maybe she's sick or somethin'."

Dorothy rolled her eyes, sensing Jake's meaning. "It's probably just from that hit on the head she took."

Finally, the spasm stopped and the woman calmed, as if nothing had ever happened. Michaela lifted her eyelids and found her pupils normal. She glanced at Sully and whispered doubtfully, "It could be a concussion."

Sully nodded and put his hand over the woman's, whispering gently to her, "Má'heóná'e vovóhnêhešéh vta."

The woman nodded slowly before her eyes shuttered. Sully turned around and looked angrily at the audience. "She doesn't want anything from you right now."

Loren murmured under his breath and Jake tipped his hat, raising his eyebrows as he felt her rejection. Dorothy clamped her mouth shut and walked to the back of the store. There would not be a standing ovation for the performer.

Sully glared at the crowd once more before he caught Matthew's eyes and asked him to help carry her.

The circus was over, but Michaela still carried the rings as she walked behind them to the clinic.