Chapter 6—"Learning Cheyenne"

As his hand pressed against her lower back, she closed her eyes tightly, steeling herself even as his hand grew warmer and her need to turn around and shake him became increasingly more appealing.

Sully waited, but she made no attempt to turn around or even acknowledge that she was aware of his presence, although he was perfectly aware that she was. He turned around, looking back where the woman was nearly passed out by the fire, and he opened his ears further for the children. Not a sound. Sully suppressed a groan. Michaela was going to talk to him, whether she liked it or not.

He slid his moccasins off and removed his hand from her back. Whether she knew it or not, she audibly exhaled.

But, she sighed too quickly.

Before she had time to inhale, the bed sank beside her and was replaced by the weight of a man. The weight of a man—something she didn't know if she was truly ready to carry. In the darkness, she could smell him, every inch of him…He was like a worn saddle tanned by hand or an oak tree, carved with the patient whittling knife of God. Almost perfect. If only they could carve each other's heart to make it fit inside the other's.

However, when she felt his arm wrap around her body, she gave herself away and gasped. Sully couldn't help but grin a little bit. She had given it her all—a valiant effort in his mind.

"Did I wake ya?" He whispered cheekily into her hair.

Michaela gritted her teeth. Did he actually dare to be cute right now? She found his hand over the covers, grasped it with her fingers, and tried to move it away from her. "Don't."

Sully fought for her hand, covering it with him own until their fingers were completely tangled. "Please…"

"It's too late for this, Sully. Go back… Go back to her." Michaela's hand went completely limp in his, giving up. "She needs you."

Sully paused, hearing a tinge of self-protectiveness in her voice that alarmed him. He tightened his hold on her loose hand, and without thinking, whispered, "Ho'nónaéo'hémeotse?"

Michaela closed her eyes again, not understanding why her cheeks were suddenly damp, or why she was holding his hand so tightly, as if he might vanish at any moment, or why he was speaking to her that way, or why she hadn't made him leave yet. Attempting to control her voice, she whispered back, "I can't understand you."

"You don't need me?" Sully said softly, correcting himself. Michaela's throat burned and she could hardly speak. He pulled her into him like a half moon finding its night's sky. She was almost comfortable if she hadn't been so terribly uncomfortable with his words. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder, listening to her heartbeat from behind, trying to understand her hesitation behind the protected vessel. "Can ya even say it?"

"How—how do you say it?" Michaela mumbled into the blankets, her words hardly audible.

"What?" Sully leaned over her, and Michaela reluctantly rolled to her back, thankful it was dark so he couldn't see the annoying tears on her face.

"How do you say it in Cheyenne?" She clarified, gazing at his figure darkly through fallen lashes.

His head fell beside hers, and he said simply, "Naéo'hémeotse."

"That's beautiful." She lifted her eyes, finding him there, right next to her. She took a deep breath, her brow furrowing as she concentrated on the melodious language. "Nah-o—"

She stopped, not hearing the right sound coming from her voice.

"Open your lips more…" Sully lifted his gauzed hand, his free fingers finding her lips. It'll help round out your vowels."

The room was black, and all she could feel were the tips of his fingers tracing the open carven of her mouth. She opened her mouth, and he could feel her breath against his skin. Unable to stop himself, he whispered, "He'kéa'e ahtse."

He felt her lips spread under his touch as she suppressed a frustrated laugh. "And what does that mean?"

He leaned closer, running his thumb across her bottom lip, quieting her rumble immediately. "Soft lips."

He let his hand run pass the crease in her lips to the side of her cheek and stopped when he realized she had been crying. "Héheehaénéóhtse," he whispered sadly, then gently, with no warning, kissed the side of her cheek, where hidden tears were. And then into her ear, he revealed her secret, "Your eyes have tears."

Michaela gripped her entire body, not wanting to admit her weakness to him or tell him the sickening feeling she hadn't been able to let go of all evening. She brought her hands to his chest, pushing against him, trying to form some kind of distance between them, a distance she wasn't sure truly existed. "Stop…"

He pulled her back, finding the reflection of her eyes in the dark, making sure he saw the truth there before he continued, "I can't. I need to be with ya like this."

"I—" But, her usual protests wouldn't make the right intonations, and she froze, caught in his arms.

He knotted their hands together, wounds and nerves twisting in a strange duet. "Ya need me. Ya don't gotta be so tough all the time."

Michaela nodded, knowing better. "Yes, I do."

"Why? I don't understand."

"I…" She swallowed, the tears coming fast down her face now. She needed to tell him, she needed to tell him now how she felt, because this weight she had been carrying for weeks was eating away at her, stalling her life, and breaking her heart. "I don't know how to love you."

Sully stopped breathing, unable to digest what she was saying. It wasn't physical, it wasn't something he could teach her like Cheyenne, it was just something he felt, something that was natural to him as breathing. But now he couldn't breathe as he looked into her eyes, confused and lost as to what this meant.

Suddenly, the woman began moaning by the fire, causing Michaela and Sully to break away from each other. Michaela felt as if her heart was left wide and bleeding, gaping for the entire world to see, without anyone to mend it as he left her. Sully quickly moved towards the woman, focusing on her, trying to regain control of himself even as he heard Michaela's words spin over and over in his head. I don't know how to love you. I don't know how to love you. I don't know how to love you. He couldn't breathe.

"Aenôhenehovohe!" He pulled the woman into his arms, rocking her, as she slowly opened her eyes, catching his eyes in the firelight, and cried, "Naéo'hémeotse!"

Michaela sat on the edge of her bed and watched them. She touched her bottom lip and wondered how it could be so easy to say such a difficult word.

………………………………………………………………………………………………...

She had heard him slip out of the homestead at daybreak. Since then, he had been relentlessly chopping wood like the devil was forcing him to do it. Michaela got up quickly, knowing she had to explain what she said. She knew exactly how it sounded. Cold. Harsh. Almost unfeeling. But if he knew how much she really felt, how she couldn't make sense of it all, then maybe he'd understand.

Michaela slipped outside the homestead and stopped, seeing Matthew was already up, helping Sully.

Matthew turned towards the cabin and said, "Mornin' Dr. Mike!"

Michaela smiled at her son, and then looked from some kind of reaction from Sully but didn't receive one. She brightened her smile anyway as she attempted to greet them, "Good morning, Matthew. You certainly got an early start, Sully."

He looked up and nodded once. "Yep."

Michaela swallowed, now wishing she had kept her feelings to herself. He had never looked at her that way. He looked empty. He looked past her.

But Matthew didn't notice. Peering towards the homestead, the young man said wistfully, "I hope she'll feel better today."

Michaela nodded. "At least she got a good night's sleep." As for herself, she didn't sleep at all once Sully left her bed.

All of a sudden, pots and pans rattled in the kitchen, and the woman came bursting through the front door, her eyes looking up, her hands outstretched, searching for something.

Colleen and Brian ran out on her heels. Colleen panicked as she stopped in the doorway, "Dr. Mike! She just woke up!"

"She got scared!" Brian exclaimed sympathetically.

The woman finally saw Sully across the yard and recognized him. She pushed pass Michaela and ran straight into his arms. Sully stepped back, catching her full weight, not use to a woman clinging to him like this.

Sully smoothed down her hair, trying to relieve some of the tension in her body. "Hová'éhe ne'šévae."

Michaela watched the woman's shoulder's go down, and she could only imagine what he said to her. It was like magic.

"You're the only one she feels safe with," Michaela said, meeting his eyes as he held the woman.

"The only one, huh?" He pulled back from the woman, looking hard at Michaela, a look not lost on Colleen, and picked up his axe. "I think she just needs time."

He turned his back and walked to the barn to put his axe away. The woman followed every step he made, as if he was leaving forever. Michaela saw, but there was nothing she could say at that moment that would make anything better.

She turned and went back to the porch. Everything would have to wait. But she had to get out of here. It was too hard to be around him right now. She needed to work. She had to work.

She cleared her throat and spoke up, "I have to go to the clinic today. She seems fine, but I'd feel better if you'd keep an eye on her, Sully. Would you mind taking her with you?"

Sully shrugged, willing to do anything as long as he could breathe again. "I suppose I could."

Without a second look, Sully jumped on his horse and held his hand out for the woman. She took it easily, wrapping her arms around his waist as she road behind him.

Michaela didn't look again. She understood.