Chapter 6

March 1st 1865

Sully sat on his bed folding clothes for his visit to Kansas to see Abby. As hard as it was for him, he didn't go and see her last month. Her rebuke stung him, and he wanted to give her time before he went back and saw her with Hannah. He thought if she had enough time, she would forget about telling him to never come back. He couldn't do that.

He had been fighting his feelings for the past month. Everyday since the night in the clinic, when his daughter almost died and he kissed Michaela, it replayed in his mind over and over, keeping his mind running as if he were in a marathon. It kept him up and nights and filled his thoughts in the daylight hours.

For two days, he and Hannah stayed at the clinic so Michaela could observe her and make sure she wouldn't relapse from her exposure. It was the longest forty-eight hours of his life. He and Michaela barely said two words to each other the entire time. He was deliberately avoiding her. He had never felt so ashamed of himself in his entire life. For one moment in his life, he let his emotions take over. And now he was paying for it.

"I feel things for you, Sully…."

Why had he let things get so out of hand? He should've seen it coming. He shouldn't have spent so much time with her. He shouldn't have taken her to the reservation. That was his world… his retreat from life, and he shared it with someone else. For some unknown reason, it just felt so natural to him, like he should feel that way. And that's what frightened him. Because he never felt that way with Abby. Sure he loved her, he loved her very much. But being with Michaela was different. It felt different. It felt as though he had loved her his entire life, and they were just starting out, just beginning, but the love was always there.

"Love." Is that what he felt?

No, it couldn't be. He loved his wife. He couldn't love two people at once. That's not how it was supposed to be. He promised himself to Abby; made vows to her, and he wasn't going to break them.

"Love." He repeated to himself. Such a strange word. He always thought he knew what it meant. The love for his mother…his daughter…his wife. Perhaps that was his problem. He loved his wife, but he wasn't in love with her. He wasn't being fair; he wasn't being fair to himself, to Michaela….to Abigail. Both of them deserved so much more than he could give him.

As much as he tried to deny it he knew….he knew he had feelings for her. And like Michaela told him: It was wrong….so wrong. And every time he thought back to the last time he saw Abigail, it made him sick. Because she knew…she knew too. It was even before he kissed Michaela. Abigail looked into him and pulled it out. He thought he masked it, locked it away and threw out the key.

God, what must she be thinking? He had to prove to her that he stilled loved her, because he did. He wasn't going to have her think of him as one of those men who frequent the Saloon and took to bed with some woman while his wife was away. He just wasn't going to see Michaela anymore. If that's what it took, he would do it. If it took moving away…he would do it.

"Papa?" Hannah's voice broke his thoughts.

"What is it, honey?"

"We go?" she asked.

"We're goin' soon. I just have to pack all our clothes, and then we'll go see mama." He tried to smile.

"Mama…" she said, more of a question than a statement.

"Yes, we're gonna see mama."

Hannah seemed to stare at her father like she had no idea who he was talking about. She looked as though she was trapped in some fog and was searching her way out.

"You remember mama, Hannah?" he questioned.

"Elefant!" she threw the animal onto his lap, laughing and not paying attention to what her father was saying.

Sadly, he looked down at his daughter. Had she forgotten about her ma? If she did, he had no one to blame but himself.

"Papa, Doctah Mah?" she looked up to him with pleading eyes.

Pretending that he didn't hear her, he scooped his daughter up in his arms and plopped her down on the bed. "Wanna help me pack?"

……………………………………..

He walked through town, a trail of blood dripping behind him. His eyes scanned the buildings one by one, looking for the medical clinic. He heard there was one in town, as he was passing through. He clutched his left hand that was swathed in crimson cloth.

He turned the corner and saw the mercantile, the barber shop, and then the Saloon. He turned to the right and the "ring for doctor" sign caught his eye. He jumped on the porch and banged on the door. "Doc!" he shouted. "Doc!"

Michaela was sitting at her desk updating a patient file, when a loud knock at the door startled her. Jumping from her seat she went to inspect.

Her eyes opened wide at the man before her that was clutching his hand. "What happened?" She took him by the shoulder and led him in.

"I…I cut my hand on my bucksaw," he gritted his teeth. "Where's the doc?" He scanned the room.

Michaela took his hand in her own and started to unravel the cloth. "I'm Doctor Michaela Quinn." She smiled.

"A lady doctor?" He was amazed. "Well don't that beat all?" He tore his eyes away from his hand for the first time and looked at her.

"This is going to need a few stitches, Mr…." She looked to him.

"Jackson Tate…you can call me Jackson. Everyone does."

Jackson watched, as Michaela set down the bloody cloth and turned to her cabinet, seemingly taking out bottles of disinfectant and instruments. He was instantly aroused by this woman. Her hair hung loosely in golden copper curls down her slender back and was scooped up a little in the front. And her face…utterly gorgeous. He couldn't help but smile.

Turning around, she saw Jackson staring at her. Holding the bottle of disinfectant in her hand, she clutched it tightly and looked into his eyes, feeling a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. His eyes were so… so blue…they were eyes she'd seen before. They were eyes that looked into her own at one time and saw what was inside. They…they reminded her of Sully's eyes.

"Sully," she whispered to herself, saying his name out loud for the first time in weeks.

"Pardon me?" he asked, straining to hear the doctor speak.

"Nothing…I'm sorry." Her eyes turned sad at the thought of how long it had been since she'd seen Sully. Setting down the disinfectant, her eyes turned up in thought. This time she could honestly say they parted on uncertain terms. And it was her fault…her own fault for telling him how she felt. It wasn't right for her to feel the way she did for a married man. A married man with a child, no less. God, what was she thinking?

"I'm as clumsy as a clown with tools in my hands," Jackson laughed.

Michaela jetted out of her thoughts and turned her mind fully onto her patient. "How did this happen again?"

"I was working on my ranch just out of town here, and I was sawing some boards to make a corral for my horses, when the blade broke in two and cut my hand."

"You're lucky it didn't go any deeper." She turned it over. "This may sting a little."

"A little pain never hurt anyone." He laughed at his joke.

Michaela chucked, as she poured the alcohol onto the cloth. "Did you buy the old Jenkins Ranch off Sumter road?"

"Yes, I got it after… AHHHHHH! Holy mother!" Jackson jumped a good foot in the air.

Michaela jumped back immediately, startled by his outburst. "Are you okay?" Her eyes popped from her head, wanting to laugh but keeping it in for the sake of her patient.

"You trying to kill me or something!"

"Jackson…I'm sorry…I…" She became flustered, taking another step to distance them.

Waiting for the stinging to go down and the thin coating of water to leave his eyes, he watched the lady doctor looking around and feeling guilty. Seemingly not knowing what to do with the alcohol soak cloth she clutched in her hand.

"I'm fine," he gritted through his teeth. "Never could take no pain."

"I'm truly sorry. I could put you under if you'd like," she suggested.

"Under what?" he tried to joke with her. "The ground? I thought I was going to be put six feet under after that!"

Michaela became flustered. "No, I meant-"

"No, no I'm fine." He felt stupid for acting like such a baby.

"I'm going to need to clean it a little more before I can stitch it." She grabbed the cloth.

He swallowed hard and held out his hand.

Taking his hand in hers, she carefully placed the cloth over his cut and gently rubbed the dirt and blood away.

Much to his surprise it didn't hurt as much. The pain was tolerable. Trying not to be obvious as he was the last time he tried to steal glances of her. He didn't know what it was about her that was so striking. Perhaps it was the way she smelled or the way her body moved. He couldn't be sure.

"How does that feel?" She looked to him.

"Just fine." He smiled.

"Mr. Jenkins' Ranch was awfully large. Is it just you working on it?" She tried to keep his mind off of his hand.

"I owned a ranch over in Nevada, and I started a lumber business. Tate's Lumber Mill."

"That's quite an accomplishment." She was amazed.

"I bought some excess land beyond my estate. I'm hoping to start a sister business here."

"That sounds like a good idea." She set down the cloth. "You're going to need about 10 stitches."

"Ten…umm…" He thought to himself. "I guess that makes eighty-two."

"Excuse me?" her eyes narrowed.

"With this ten, I'll have eighty-two stitches on me!" He was proud.

"Eighty-two!" She was flabbergasted. "How on earth did you acquire eighty-two stitches?"

"Like I said…I'm a little clumsy." He shrugged.

Michaela picked up the needle and was about to make the first stitch into Jackson's hand, when he stopped her.

"Umm...you sure you know what you're doing with that?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

He exhaled. "Alright. You better."

He watched her delicate smooth hands began to stitch his rough, blemished worker's hand with expertise. And he thought back to the day of the fire. The fire that changed his life. "The brunt of my stitches came when I fell from the loft in my barn during a fire."

"A fire!" she was horrified. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Yeah." He didn't want to divulge. "That's how I got the scarring on my hands." He lifted his right hand for her to see.

"Oh, Jackson!" She set his left hand down to look at his right. A jagged scar started from the back of his hand, cutting between his index and middle finger down through his palm. The right side of his palm looked as though it went through the new branch of surgery. She carefully traced the line down his hand.

"Did you have-"

"Plastics…yes. My father wired the best physician he could find to work on my hands. I…I was afraid I was going to lose them for awhile. I don't know what I would have done."

Michaela could only imagine what it would feel like to lose her hands. She certainly would never have become a doctor. They were everything to her. At times, she felt as though her hands were her eyes, seeing their way through a surgery.

"Well it looks as though he did a fine job." She smiled.

Jackson watched the way she held his hand. She was soft and gentle, as she traced his scar with feather-light touches. He loved the way the right side of her mouth turned up in a grin, when she smiled.

"I owe that doc my life. I was just starting up my mill then. I didn't think I'd ever get that thing rebuilt. I have some good men out there. And I'm hoping they'll want to move out here and get me started on this one."

Finishing up the stitching on his left hand, Michaela also noticed similar scarring, but not as pronounced. She didn't say anything.

"Colorado Springs could use a good lumber mill. I know quite a few men that would love it. I always hear of them complaining about ordering lumber for their new houses, and it not getting here on time, or having to pay outrageous shipping charges. You'd be doing something wonderful for the entire town, Jackson."

"Glad to here you say that, Doc." He smiled at her. "So where are you from? I detect a New England accent in there."

"I'm from Boston," she told him.

"Boston! Get out of here. That's where I was born!"

Tying up the end of the stitch, Michaela looked up to Jackson with widened eyes. "Really?"

"Yep. My father was a doctor, and he moved his practice out to San Francisco when I was six."

"My father was a doctor too." She smiled.

"And, I bet he's the reason you're one today." He ventured.

"Actually he is. I've wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. And it's my father who made that dream come true."

"I'm sure it was more than your father that did that. You're the one who had to endure medical school."

"That's true!" she chuckled.

"Let's see…we were both born in Boston, our fathers were both doctors, and we both moved out west. That's something!" He was amazed.

"When I think about it, that is rather astounding," she made note.

Grabbing the bandages from the table, Michaela began to wrap Jackson's hand. He was a rather handsome man. He had dark brown hair that was almost black. He was a little rugged but clean-cut. She could tell under his jagged cowboy exterior, he was rather sophisticated. And she couldn't help but be impressed by his accomplishments.

The more she thought about Jackson, the more it reminded her of Sully…the more she wanted to see him; talk to him. She knew they could never be more than just friends. But, she would rather be his friend than nothing at all.

"Well, Jackson, I believe you're all set." She cut the edge of the bandage and tied it up.

Looking at his hand, he wiggled it around. "You're not half bad!" he laughed.

"Thank…you." she didn't know what to make of his comment, but she felt he was being sincere.

Lowering his hand into his coat, he pulled out two dollars. "Here."

"Jackson, that's too much!" she exclaimed.

"I know what the going rate is in Boston." He put his coat on.

"But, were not in Boston." She handed him the money.

"Lucky for us." He opened the door.

Defeated, Michaela walked to the entrance. "Come back in two weeks, so I can take the stitches out."

Jackson turned around. "Oh, that should be fun."

Michaela laughed. "Goodbye, Jackson."

"Bye, Doc."

Jackson started to walk down the street, whistling and kicking the dirt; laughing at how foolish he acted. He was sweet on the lady doc, and he knew it.

………………………………

"Hannah, don't put your hands in that trough. The water's dirty," Sully scolded his daughter.

"Watah, watah!" Hannah splashed.

Sitting on the bench in front of the telegraph office, Sully watched his daughter place her hands in the horses' watering trough. Trying to keep a low profile while waiting for the stage, Sully got up and tried to grab his daughter.

"NOOO!" she giggled, running onto the porch of Michaela's clinic.

Noticing the familiar surrounding, Hannah began to pound on the door. "DOCTAH MAHHH!" she screamed in fits of laughter. "DOCTOR MAHHHHH!"

"Hannah, no!" He tried to run after her. "Not there!"

Seeing her father run after her made Hannah more excited and anxious. And she started to kick her feet up and down in amusement. "DOCTOR MAHHHH!"

The clinic door immediately opened, and Hannah jumped into Michaela's arms. "Doctah Mah!"

"Whoa!" Michaela almost fell backward. "Hannah?"

"Hannah!" Sully jumped on the clinic porch just in time to watch Hannah leap into Michaela's arms.

Turning her head sharply by the sound of his voice, their eyes met simultaneously. A sticky silence filled the air with them both not knowing what to say to one another.

Hannah played with Michaela's loose curls. "Hi!" she giggled.

Moving her eyes from Sully to the little girl in her arms, she smiled. "Hello you! I haven't seen you in a while."

"Whyel!" Hannah shook her head.

Sully reached for his daughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb ya."

"You didn't." She looked down. "I haven't seen either of you for while." She knew the reason, but she hoped Sully would tell her different.

"Yeah, Hannah and I have been busy. Haven't been in town much," he lied, looking off into the street.

"I've been quite busy myself. Seems like everyone's coming down with some sort of catarrh," she quibbled.

"There was an outbreak at the reservation not too long ago," he told her.

Michaela searched his eyes. "Are they alright? Is there anything I can do?" she hoped.

"They're fine now." He looked away again, remembering when he took her to the reservation a couple months ago. He promised her that he would take her back some day. He felt bad about that, because he knew she honestly liked it there.

Michaela stood in the doorway watching Sully looking out into the street.

"Is there something you're waiting for?" she asked.

"The stage." He didn't look at her. "I'm going to see Abby."

"Oh…did you want me to watch Hannah?" she wondered.

"No, Hannah needs to see her ma," he said a bit harsher than he meant to.

With each word they said to one another, Michaela's heart sunk deeper into her chest. They were skirting about one another and just saying empty words to fill in the silence. It was awkward times like these, when Michaela didn't know what to say or to feel. Because, on one hand, she felt awful for kissing a married man, but wasn't he the one that kissed her? She couldn't even remember anymore.

"Yes, you're right." She bit down on her lip. "I hope you have a nice visit."

Michaela felt as though she might throw up. She just felt awful. Here was a man that was supposed to be her friend. A friend that was in need of a friend. He confided in her about his own personal life. She even tried to help with the appeal. And now because of a kiss, it was all wrong.

In a way, she didn't want to feel bad though, because it was Sully that kissed her first. But she knew him; she could tell by the way he was acting that it bothered him too, and hat he knew it was wrong too, but didn't want to say anything out of embarrassment.

Michaela knew that Sully loved his wife. He proved it by not giving up hope that he would get her out of jail one day; by going and visiting her every month. Perhaps it wasn't any of their faults. They were just so caught up in the moment. Hannah almost died; she could see where a rush of emotion could come from that. That kiss probably didn't mean a thing to him. And she wasn't going to make it a thing to her. All it was a kiss. A simple kiss. A kiss of gratitude and a kiss of thanks. Nothing more.

Hearing the sound of approaching horses, Michaela closed her clinic door and walked onto the porch. "I'm waiting for some medicine to arrive on the stage today." She was happy.

Sully watched her, as she made her way toward the oncoming stage. He hurt her feeling, and he knew it. Why was he being like this to her? It was his fault.

Jake Slicker jumped on top of the stage and started handing out packages. "Loren, here's those fancy cigars ya ordered" He threw them down. "All that paper ya ordered is up here too."

"Dr. Mike, I got some medicine here for ya too," he yelled.

Michaela walked up to the stage, trying to grab the package Jake was dangling over the edge. It was a large package, and she couldn't reach it. Suddenly, she saw two arms reach over her and grab the package.

"Here."

Michaela turned around, already knowing who it was. "Thank you, Sully." She tried to smile.

He just nodded and threw his luggage on top of the stage.

"Would someone please help me down from this death contraption of a stage?" a woman's voice rang from inside the coach.

Michaela's eyes widened and gripped her package tightly, as she turned around.

"Mother?"

This perked Sully's interest, and he also turned.

"Surprised to see me?" she asked, pulling her coat tighter around her.

"Mother, I didn't expect you-"

"To come out to the barren wilderness?" She cut her off.

"Well…yes," she told her, her breath catching in her throat.

"Well someone had to make sure you weren't scalped to death by savages." She began to sit up.

Michaela closed her eyes for a split second, hoping that Sully didn't hear.

"Well don't just stand there with your mouth agape. It's not very becoming. And for goodness sakes, help me down!"

"Here, Ma'am." Sully held out his hand.

Elizabeth gave him a quick once over. Taking in his rugged appearance ,she didn't know what to make of him. She tentatively took a hold of his hand and stepped out of the stage. Her eyes scanned the town, as she tried to gather her bearings.

"Thank-you." She slipped her hand from his.

Michaela stepped forward to embrace her mother. "I...I've missed you," she said searching for the right words.

"Well, I see you're still in one piece," she retorted.

"Mother I'm fine…and perfectly healthy." She tried to smile.

Elizabeth looked her daughter up and down. "Well, you certainly have gotten thinner." She turned up her nose.

Trying to remain unnoticed, Sully grabbed Hannah by the hand and walked up to the stage.

"Bah, Doctah Mah!" Hannah tired to wave.

Michaela turned from her mother and lowered herself down to Hannah's eye level. "Bye, sweetheart. You be good okay?"

"I good." She smiled, wrapping her arms around Michaela and giving her a wet kiss on the cheek. "I good!"

Michaela picked her up and hugged her back. Then, she placed her inside of the stage.

She took a deep breath and turned around to face Sully. She leaned her shoulder on the side of the stage. "Good bye, Sully."

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he jumped on the stage and closed the door. "Bye, Dr. Mike."

"All set back there?" the driver yelled.

"Yep." Sully banged on the side of the door.

With a click of the reigns, they were off.

Elizabeth stood next to Michaela, watching what was transpiring between her daughter and this little girl and a somewhat strange outdoorsman. There was something strange about the way they looked at one another; some unspoken understanding.

"Michaela, who was that?" her mother inquired.

"Sully…" Michaela watched the stage coach travel to the edge of town.

"A what?"

"Sully." Michaela turned to her mother. "He's a friend."

Watching her daughter's whole demeanor change, she decided to drop it. "So, where's your house?" Elizabeth looked around the rustic town.

"I live right here above the clinic," Michaela motioned with her hand.

"Right here…in the middle of town." She placed her hands on her hips. "Across the street from a…a saloon!" She was aghast.

"I'm perfectly safe mother," she assured.

"Well, let's get inside, before I catch my death a cold." Elizabeth walked past her and into the clinic.

Exhaling, Michaela picked up her mothers things and walked back to the clinic.

Kansas State Penitentiary

Abigail looked at its translucent blue color, shimmering in the pale moonlight. And it cast an eerie glow from the inside, almost looking like a beacon of light. She had kept it under her mattress for the past week, since Billy the guard and brought it to her.

She has come so close to using it the other night. She didn't know what it was, but something stopped her. Something that wanted to give it a second chance. She didn't know if it was possible. Not after what she said. She didn't know if it would ever be possible.

She held it in the palm of her hand. "Not yet…not till I know for sure." She closed her eyes clutching it tightly to her chest. She took one last look at it and shoved it back under her mattress and went to sleep.

Laura watched, as Abby placed the mysterious item back underneath her mattress. Something wasn't right about her anymore. She had become too detached from the world. She would barely talk anymore, and when she did, it was only one word answers.

Something inside her told her there was much more to Abigail Sully and meets the eye. At first, she thought that perhaps she was acting the way she was because of her husband. But now she wasn't so sure. There was something else going on in that little head of hers, and she was going to find out.

Colorado Springs

Summer 1871

"Rose Katherine and McKenna Elizabeth, get up to your room now!"

The sisters heard the panic in their mother's voice. They looked at one another and scurried up the steps.

"Lock the door!"