Chapter 12—"The Face of a Woman"

Michaela eyed the strange girl as she brought more kindling into the open cavern, creating a small roaring fire that lit the jagged walls around them. The girl's olive face glowed with sharp lines that hid the baby fat that still lingered behind becoming a woman. She twirled the gun in her hand, and stewed impishly, her eyes flashing in the flames. "Are you still cold?"

"No," Michaela exhaled slowly, releasing the hold on her curled legs, surmising the girl's anxious demeanor. "The fire is nice."

Smiles No More sat down on the opposite side of the fire and Michaela watched her place the gun down beside her left leg. When Michaela raised her eyes, Smiles No More raised her eyebrows knowingly. Michaela cleared her throat and quickly asked, "Why are you here with him?"

"Why are you here with him?" She retorted.

Michaela sighed, shaking her head. It all seemed so far away now. Sully. She had left so easily, so… How did they get here?

But, she looked into the girl's eyes, and they weren't as harsh as her words. They were different somehow—curious and almost innocent. Patiently, she answered the girl, "I was running away from…from nothing. And I fell off my horse. The next thing I knew, I woke up in his arms."

Smiles No More nodded slowly and suddenly stuck out her chin proudly. "I was running away from nothing too. Then I saw him bleeding to death. The smoke was still in the air. I saved him. Then, I took him as my prisoner."

Michaela frowned, baffled by her words. She seemed like a total contradiction. "Your prisoner?"

She nodded, sighing like she had had a hard day's work. "He has not been easy to keep track of. He is a sneaky one."

Michaela felt his taunt arms and smelled hot breath and saw his burning eyes beyond desperation, and she measured her words carefully, "He's a dangerous man, Smiles No More. I can't be sure, but I believe he was a dog soldier. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes," she said bluntly, "My family kills dog soldiers."

Michaela froze. How could that be? She was clearly a Cheyenne girl. Her eyes, her hair, her face. Of course, her clothes were not traditional, but…. What on earth had happened to this child? "But you're a—"

"A soldier of the United States Army."

"What is it, Cloud Dancing?" She asked before she saw him come.

Cloud Dancing sat beside her on their rock as Walks on Clouds played in the creek in front of them. He did not speak for several minutes, and Snowbird felt the weight of his sadness descend upon her like a shadow. Finally, he whispered, "Black Kettle can do nothing. We are being…moved."

Suddenly, she laughed and his words were forgotten as little feet played against the inside of her belly. "Oh my! She moved!" Snowbird grabbed his hand and placed it across her stomach. "I can feel her spirit more and more."

"She is a strong one." Cloud Dancing smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Then, Snowbird remembered what he had said. Moving. They had to move. She felt another kick.

"Moved?" She asked, covering the little knobby foot.

Cloud Dancing nodded distantly. "Relocated."

A little hand pressed against her side. "Where?"

"A reservation just outside of Colorado Springs." Cloud Dancing looked out towards his laughing son.

She closed her eyes as the baby turned inside of her. "I don't think I can. Go without me, Cloud Dancing. Take our son with you."

His arms circled both of them, and the baby stopped moving. "I will not leave you."

"The baby is coming. But it cannot come too soon. I don't want our child being born a slave to those heartless soldiers," Snowbird whispered into his ear, hiding her face.

"Then we will hide in the hills… We'll stay here until the baby is born."

The little foot retreated and Snowbird caught her breath, "What if…"

"I will protect you, Snowbird. Nothing will happen to our baby…Nothing will happen to our family."

They road along the snowy path in silence. Catherine felt his stomach muscles tightened against her hold, and she sighed against his back. "You are feeling something even if you will not say it."

"Ya shouldn't be with me," Sully breathed out smoky ice air. "It's wrong."

Suddenly, Catherine pushed away from his back and jumped off the back of the horse. "Oh come on, Catherine! What are ya doin'?"

"I am only trying to help you and you are being…an…an…impossible—I do not know the word! Maybe you do not deserve her if you cannot even take care of your own actions!" Catherine huffed, as she managed to voice her annoyance.

"I have taken responsibility for it! I can't help it, but I'm frustrated and angry!"

"How could I know? Have you claimed her heart?"

"What do ya mean?" Sully stopped, defensive. "Michaela knows I love her."

Catherine shook her head, sharp blue jabbing from her eyes. "But you have not taken it. You do not ask questions like I ask now."

Sully turned away from her and went back to his horse. "There ain't no way you can understand how I feel about her."

"And she does not understand you like you think she does. You keep too much inside like she does. It will explode one day and you will lose her," Catherine said daringly, knowing she was pushing him to his limit, but something inside of her couldn't restrain herself.

Sully gripped his fists and tried to control his temper as he whirled around and shot icy blue back at her. "She is lost! Don't ya understand that?"

Catherine spread her hands in surrender. "You did not speak soon enough. She needed you to fight for her."

"How do you know that, huh?" Sully stared at her, disbelievingly.

Catherine stepped closer to him, invading his space. She pointed slowly back and forth between their eyes. "Because I know eyes of a broken heart. I care about Dr. Mike too."

"Why did you kiss me?" Sully asked quietly, releasing his fists.

"You did not say no," Catherine said honestly.

He knew she was right, and he felt it rip through his stomach. Against his will, a single tear fell down his cheek. "I didn't say yes."

"You love her?" Catherine reached up and wiped his tear away.

Sully nodded, his body trembling with the thought of Michaela. "More than I can say."

Catherine cupped his cheeks, a force of nature whirling through her like fire as she urged him, "Then you must say yes to her. All of her. Not just what you see, but what she will not show you as well."

Sully frowned, confused by the loving, raging face of this woman, "Why are ya telling me all this?"

Catherine said simply, "Because I love you. I love you both."

"How is Michaela doing, Mother?" Rebecca asked as she sipped her chamomile tea.

"Hmph!" Elizabeth hit her tea cup hard against the saucer. "I haven't heard from your sister in weeks."

Rebecca eyed her mother cautiously. "I know. Michaela is usually so conscientious about her correspondence."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and sat erect on the edge of the settee. "Not while she's engaging in that self-indulgent love affair that will never lead her to a secure state of matrimony!"

"Mother!" Rebecca's eyes grew wider as her mother puffed up with disapproval. She usually could handle her mother, unlike Michaela and Marjorie who often would go head to head with her, and the result would often be a tearful Elizabeth on her ever waiting shoulder, but sometimes, even for Rebecca, she could be a bit much. If only she could be like Claudette and Maureen who simply ignored her and only showed up for holiday gatherings and funerals. Unfortunately, she would never be that heartless.

"Can't I have an opinion about my own daughter's welfare?" Elizabeth primed, her eyes glassy and rock hard at the same time.

Rebecca put down her tea and put a gentle hand on her mother's. "Mr. Sully loves her. You saw the way they looked at each other."

Elizabeth stuck up her nose. "It was wanton and lustful."

Rebecca pulled her closer, trying not to laugh at her impossible mother. "It was romantic, and you're simply jealous."

"I'm what!" Elizabeth snapped, as if she had almost been caught.

"Mother! Rebecca! Where are you?" Marjorie burst through the front door without even waiting for Henderson.

"In the drawing room, Marjorie!" Rebecca called out as Elizabeth affectionately swatted her away.

"Have you two seen this?" Marjorie held up the front page of the New York Times, as tendrils bounced in every direction from their properly fixed position.

Elizabeth waved her off and picked up her tea. "You know I don't read the New York Times. There's nothing in it but reports of vice and criminal acts of—"

"There's a story about a white woman who has been living with the Indians from Colorado Springs. Michaela's mentioned throughout it, mother," Marjorie finished saucily.

Elizabeth frowned and reached for the paper. "Hand it here."

She began to read it quickly as Rebecca leaned over her shoulder. "…only surviving member of Cheyenne war party…married to…. treated by Dr. Michaela Quinn…. Where she began to remember her first English words that she had forgotten with the passage of time…. Remembers a fire… Her name is… Catherine…."

"No wonder Michaela hasn't written." Rebecca looked up, rather impressed with her little sister.

Marjorie pushed back one of her curls and sat on the opposite side of Elizabeth. "Isn't that fascinating, mother?"

Elizabeth didn't answer them. She was still staring at the article. Suddenly, she stood up and turned around. Her face was completely white and withdrawn. "If you will both excuse me, I…I'm not feeling very well… I need to go lie down."

"Mother, are you alright?" Rebecca stood up and grabbed her arm.

"I'm perfectly fine, Rebecca. You girls…ladies finish your tea, alright?" Elizabeth patted Rebecca's hand and slowly walked out of the drawing room and disappeared up the stairs.

Marjorie looked at Rebecca curiously. "What on earth was that about?"

"Ma-ma!" The baby girl screamed without mercy.

"It's ok, it's ok! I've got you, my sweet girl. Papa's got you." The father cradled his youngest in his arms almost awkwardly. Their mother had always been the caretaker. This was new, but it felt right.

"What should we do, father?" His oldest asked, trembling.

"Don't worry. We'll manage. She'll stay right here at clinic with me."

"But father—" His daughter protested. Fathers didn't take care of daughters. It wasn't their place. It wasn't what her mother—

"Not another word, daughter." He held up his hand as the baby began to quiet in his arms. "It's fine. Everything is fine."

"But—"

"I want you to put on a cheerful face, Rebecca. You're almost a woman now. Cover it. Don't let them see your fear for a second. Women are the strongest creatures alive. We'll overcome this, daughter. The world will never know."

And then, Rebecca Quinn began to smile.