Chapter 8—"No…No…No…Yes"

Dorothy closed her bedroom door as she tried to rein in Catherine's attention. She was finding this interview to be more difficult than she initially anticipated. Dorothy had the sneaky suspicion that this woman would jump out of the window and run for her life if given the opportunity. She tried another question, hoping for a more informative reply besides Yes or No. "Sully said you were around ten years old when this happened?"

Catherine nodded her head quickly, her eyes turning towards the clear windows again where Sully had been only a few minutes ago. Where had he gone? He hadn't left her, had he?

Dorothy sighed, tapping her pencil on her notepad. "I think it's terrible, them kidnappin' you like that."

Catherine turned back and frowned, this woman's words spinning around in her head. Kidnapping. Kidnapping… The word sounded so strange. She didn't understand.

Dorothy bit her lip and crossed her ankles when Catherine stared at her blankly. "Were they Cheyenne? Sioux? Apache?"

Names, she wanted names. They were special. They were fire. They cried and drank and fought. They were strong. They were hungry. They were family. "Dog Soldier."

Dorothy shook her head, aiming for sympathy, thankful that Catherine finally gave a decent response so she could write an interesting article. "You must've been very frightened. Very unhappy."

Catherine looked around the room, trying to remember her first days with Walks Last and Chasing Hawk. They had been kind, unlike Porcupine Bear. But, nothing was specific anymore. Not like her first days in Colorado Springs. "In beginning, yes."

Dorothy nodded vigorously, writing her first paragraph. "How did they treat you? Did they force you to work?"

"No." Suddenly, there was a loud thud against the wall of Dorothy's room. Catherine jumped off of her chair and curled to a ball on the floor.

Dorothy dropped her pad and paper and moved down beside Catherine, putting her hand gently on her back. "Don't be frightened! Children often play rough around the store. You're safe here…" Catherine slowly looked up and peered into Dorothy's eyes. Dorothy recognized something, but she wasn't sure. Hesitantly, she asked, "Did they...hurt you?"

"No."

Dorothy's pad and paper were forgotten. "How were you able to survive, livin' among 'em like that?"

Catherine looked down and whispered, "My husband...took care of me."

"Husband?" Dorothy gasped. She couldn't fathom it. "You were married to an Indian?"

"Yes," Catherine whispered, a sad smiled etching her face.

Dorothy shook her head, unable to move from the floor. "But the Dog Soldiers are renegades. Savages!"

Catherine reached across the space and touched Dorothy's hand. She folded it in her own. "He was...kind...to me."

Dorothy stared at their joined hands. Same color, but so different. Same eyes too. But, her eyes had never loved like that. "Why?" she asked suddenly.

"He protect me. He bring food. He give clothes. Didn't drink like others," Catherine said rapidly. That was love for her. Then, something even sweeter pressed her thoughts. She cried softly, "He play flute for me."

Dorothy stared at her. If only she could love that easily. If only it had been so easy.

Suddenly, Catherine asked, "Your husband?"

"He wasn't kind to me." Dorothy blushed, trying to find her lost notepad. "He protected me from everyone but himself."

Meanwhile, at the same time…

Her hand didn't seem to belong to her anymore as it led her away, curled inside a hand much larger and darker than her own. She didn't know where they were going, nor did she think to ask him as the chatter of the town faded behind her. She sensed the walls of the store beside her, but she couldn't be sure, as he spun her around the corner faster than she had time to become aware of her surroundings.

"Better?" Sully stood close as he wanted for an answer. There was the distinct hardness of wood against her back, and her hand pressed against his chest, buffering her body between the two walls. The only eyes left were his, but it felt like the world. There was so much expectation and hope within them. What if she let him down?

"I…I don't know." Michaela shook her head, lowering eyes.

He covered her hands with his own and leaned into her, his forehead touching hers. She closed her eyes completely and listened to their breathing, solitude air that had been held too long. "If this is too much—"

"No." She breathed fully, taking in his sighs and protections and let her hand relax on his chest for the first time since they had begun courting.

Sully felt her body soften against his, and suddenly, he didn't know what to do. Was he pressuring her? Did she feel guilty? He touched the side of her face, not daring to take more than she was willing to give. "If I'm—"

She pressed her hands against his chest and stopped. She had never allowed herself to feel his body before. From the day she had met him, she had thought him mysterious, almost unreachable, but now, he was simply the man who loved her. She could feel it in his features that blinded her to his faults and that blinded him to hers. Love wasn't easy, but it was lovely to think so as she slid her hands down the faults of his chest to the sides of his hips, holding him easily in her arms. "No."

Sully braced his hand against the building, giving her one last out before his arm broke and his body crashed against hers. "If you want—"

"No," she whispered.

He pushed off against the building and encompassed her in his arms. She had never kissed him this—a shyness had always existed in her kisses, but this was different. Alarmingly different. There was an energy, a fierceness about her. A possessiveness. He didn't understand it, but as her arms circled his neck and he felt her heart beating wildly against his, he soon forgot his questions and responded with the same abandoned intensity. As their mouths played and locked together, their footing crumbled, sending them stumbling backwards until Michaela hit the back of the building.

Sully cradled her head upon their unceremonious thud and turned the kisses to slow, comforting ones. Michaela gasped upon the change, unsure of his gentle seduction. It was so real. Her heart ached, and she knew this was what she wanted. He did love her. He did. He wouldn't leave her. He wouldn't break her heart. She'd never have to feel that loss again.

Sully was lost in her. Not a single coherent thought made it through his mind in that moment. His legs were about to give out on him though. His arm circled her waist as she fit into him. Then, it happened. If he had been more aware, he might have stopped himself. But, she had possessed him.

Michaela's eyes flew open as he touched her. His thumb grazed across her breast, and she immediately responded to it. It was as if he had discovered her womanhood, but she hadn't known how to react any other way but as an inexperienced school girl.

She quickly moved away from him, unable to turn around until the cherry red in her cheeks returned to a normal shade for this situation. Crimson.

Sully fell back against the building, out of breath, incapable of speaking for a moment. Finally he pulled himself together and asked, "Michaela? Did I—what is it? Did I do somethin' wrong?"

"Yes," came Michaela's knee jerk reaction, but then she couldn't justify the tautness through her camisole as she turned around and looked at his swollen lips and glazed eyes. She swallowed, restraining herself. "No…No… I did… I did."

Before he could answer her, she crossed her arms over her chest and ran towards the safety of the clinic.

Dorothy picked up her pencil and pad and helped Catherine up. Slowly, they walked to the window together. Dorothy eyed Catherine as they stared out to the busy little town. "Do you think...you could love another man someday?"

Suddenly, Sully appeared again on the porch, right in front of the mirror. He leaned heavily on the railing, and finally turned around. Dorothy and Catherine waved at him. He nodded but didn't smile.

Catherine looked at Dorothy, considering. Yes or No. "I think ... maybe."