Chapter 3
October 1860 – San FranciscoSully finished cleaning up the last table in the dining hall. He had picked up a few extra hours of work to make up for his absence earlier. But he couldn't take Michaela Quinn off of his mind. Something about her made him feel alive again, and at the same time, that made him feel guilty. But, right away he'd known that she had such a fire in her, and he knew she wasn't as cold as she appeared to be at first. She was warm and sweet, and he hadn't helped bring that out by chasing her for over a mile.
"Mr. Sully?" Sully turned around at the voice of an older woman. He recognized her as Michaela's mother, though they had yet to actually meet. His boss had pointed out all of the wealthier guests, and each hotel worker was ordered to make their stays as comfortable as possible.
"Mrs. Quinn?"
"Yes," she replied, her eyes looking him up and down, trying to figure out if she should trust him. He seemed kind enough, and he had trustworthy eyes. But, that didn't always mean anything. "I wanted to thank you for bringing my daughter home. She informed me that you chased her down the beach?" Sully flushed bright red. Why wasn't he surprised?
"Ma'am, it ain't like it sounded. She was upset when she left the hotel, and I didn't want her getting into a part of town…" But Elizabeth cut him off.
"She explained your intentions to me, Mr. Sully. I'm grateful that you went out of your way to do such a thing. The only question I have is…why?" Sully swallowed hard, placing his hands in his pockets.
"Do people have to have a reason to do a good thing, Ma'am?" Normally, she would have been offended by such "backtalk", but he seemed genuine. Something in his voice told her that he was a good man, and she couldn't explain why. Her daughter had had a smile on her face, when she had told her mother about him. She had probably been oblivious to that, but Elizabeth knew. There was a connection.
"How much?"
"I don't want your money, Mrs. Quinn. I was about to take my break anyway." Elizabeth put her money purse away slowly, and she smiled at the young man.
"My daughter is very important to this family. Please accept our thanks for bringing her home safely. You're welcome to join us for dinner tomorrow evening, if you wish." Sully watched the woman walk away, and he shook his head. Michaela had been right. She certainly was very into her daughter's business. It made him feel badly for Michaela, but at the same time, it made him long for the parents who had died before they had the chance to pry into his life.
September 1870 - Boston
He forced himself awake, not being able to take the torture of the nightmare any longer. Cloud Dancing had given him herbs to help him sleep, and he'd given him a dream catcher. But, that was a long time ago…before he'd left home. The herbs were long gone, and the dream catcher had been lost somewhere between St. Louis and Philadelphia. It seemed that he'd already lost everything, including his will to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the horrific images and sounds flashed through his brain. Sometimes it happened when he was awake, but at least then he could try to think about something else, anything else but the blackness.
He pulled himself out of bed, his body drenched in sweat again. He pulled on his pants, and started for the bedroom door. He needed a drink of cold water or to just get out of the suffocating room.
Michaela couldn't sleep. She had tried everything from reading her favorite book of poems to writing in her journal to catching up on the latest medical texts. Though she was exhausted, she couldn't let herself relax enough to slip off to sleep. Her stomach was twisting into knots for reasons she couldn't think of. She was so happy to see Sully, happier than she thought she ever would be to see him. But, that sadness in his eyes worried her. After all of these years, his nightmares were still haunting him. She only wished there was something she could do to help.
She had once offered to try to find someone for him to talk to, but he'd refused. He'd spoken of a Cheyenne Medicine Man back in Colorado Springs, though she knew he didn't want to go back to that place. If only there was a way. She wanted him to get over the sadness, no matter how terrible it was. She wanted him to be able to laugh and smile and be completely happy without feeling a heavy burden in his heart. It broke her heart to see her best friend fighting such a horrendous internal battle. She was beginning to wonder if he would ever win or if he was going to give up and surrender to the pain.
After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, she threw back the covers and pulled herself out of bed. She pulled on her robe and tied it around herself before she slipped out of her room and crept down the back stairs, hoping that a cup of tea from the kitchen would calm her.
But, when she descended the stairs, she noticed the light coming from the kitchen. Her mother couldn't possibly be awake, and Harrison never got up at this time of night unless there was an emergency. But, the house was completely quiet.
Her heart began to pound, and she felt the urge to turn back. But, she kept going, being careful that her steps didn't make a sound. She particularly avoided the very last step, because it was notorious for being creaky.
She was certainly relieved when she found Sully sitting at a small table with a cup of water in his hand. She placed her hand over her heart, willing it to stop pounding so hard.
"Sully? What are you doing up so late?" He looked up, surprised by the sound of her voice but calmed by it at the same time. He sat up a little, peering across the dim room.
"I could ask you the same thing."
"You couldn't sleep?" Sully shook his head. "Neither could I. I suppose I'm used to sleeping at the clinic," she confessed, despite the fact that she had nothing but a blanket and a lumpy old cot to lie on over there. She slowly moved across the floor, her bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. She smiled nervously and sat down. Why was she suddenly feeling so strangely toward him? When he'd first arrived, it had felt like no time had gone by, yet now, she knew the truth. It had been a long time. Who knew what he had been through in his absence? He was usually quite vague in his telegrams.
She studied his features for a moment. His deep, blue eyes stared down into his water cup before he lifted it to his lips and took a sip. His lips curled downward for a moment, thinking about something, and that something was obviously not very pleasant.
"Sully?" He didn't respond, but he heard her. He knew what she was going to ask before she even asked it. She slowly reached out as if to touch him but reconsidered. "You're still having those dreams, aren't you?" The words were painful and cut through him.
"That don't matter," he said quietly.
"Yes it does. It's been…"
"I know how long it's been," he said sharply. She sat up a little, and he looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry, Michaela."
"That's all right. I shouldn't have said anything."
"You're only concerned. I don't mind. I just don't feel up to talkin' 'bout it right now." Michaela nodded.
"That's fine, Sully. But, I do have one request." He looked across at her, watching her eyes sparkle with sympathy and determination. He knew that look so well. He could never forget it.
"What's that?"
"Before you leave, you're going to talk about it. It's been long enough."
"Ya already know everything."
"Obviously I don't, because you're still hiding from me."
"I'm right here, Michaela. I ain't hidin'." Michaela sighed with exasperation, yet she didn't want to push him. She'd give him time.
"You know what I mean. We're friends, Sully. We're supposed to be there for one another." Sully looked back down into his cup of water, and Michaela reached across the table, finally putting her hand on his. "It hurts me to see you this way."
"Ya think I like feelin' this way? It ain't somethin' that…that just goes away, Michaela!" He stood quickly and felt strongly about tossing his cup across the room. But, he knew that would only make matters worse. "I'm gonna go back up to bed." Without another word, he strode out of the room and up the back stairs, leaving Michaela with her thoughts and the broken pieces of their conversation.
Michaela sat at the breakfast table alone the next morning. Sully hadn't come down yet, and she wasn't sure if he would. She honestly didn't know if he was upset with her or if he had merely been upset with himself. She knew he got frustrated and only wanted to forget, but those dreams weren't going away. She had the sneaking suspicion that they were getting stronger and darker, and her heart ached for him.
"Good morning, Michaela," Elizabeth said cheerfully, as she walked into the dining room. Michaela glanced up from her milk for only a moment.
"Good morning, Mother," she said tiredly. Elizabeth sensed her tone, as she sat down.
"Did you sleep well?" Michaela swallowed hard.
"Wonderfully," she lied. Silence filled the air, and Elizabeth felt the tension springing forth from her daughter.
"What is it, Michaela?"
"I'm just…I should go to the clinic today."
"You're supposed to take Mr. Sully on a tour of town today, aren't you? It's been years since he's been here," she pointed out. "You were so excited to see him last night." Suddenly, a mother's worry filled her heart, and some strong, raw urge to protect her youngest daughter filled her being. "Did something happen?"
"No, Mother. I'm sure Sully would like to sleep in today. That's all." Elizabeth raised a skeptical eyebrow, just as Harrison walked into the room. Michaela looked up, and Elizabeth followed her gaze.
"Yes, Harrison?"
"Dr. Webber is here." At that moment, a distinguished-looking man with dark blonde hair and emerald green eyes entered the dining room. Michaela smiled warmly at him.
"Good morning, Dr. Webber!"
"Dr. Quinn," he said with a smile as bright as hers. He moved to kiss Elizabeth's hand. "Mrs. Quinn. It's lovely to see you again." Dr. Webber was the son of the elderly Dr. Webber who had been a colleague of Josef's before he passed.
"What brings you here this morning, Landon?" Elizabeth wondered. Landon shuffled and smiled in Michaela's direction. Michaela looked down, not wanting to catch his gaze. Her cheeks flushed immediately, and she suddenly wanted to escape.
"I was wondering if…perhaps…perhaps Dr. Quinn would like to accompany me to the hospital this morning. I'd really like her opinion on a patient's case." He cleared his throat, waiting for her to look him in the eye. "Would you mind?" Michaela's eyes filled with uncertainty while Elizabeth's sparkled.
"That sounds like a splendid idea, Michaela," she said, the wheels in her head turning.
"Dr. Webber, I'm sorry. I have a guest, and I promised…"
"Don't worry 'bout that," his voice came from the doorway. All eyes turned on Sully, and he came into the room, taking a seat across from Michaela.
"Sully, we've already made plans," she pointed out, wanting an excuse not to go. Somehow, he sensed this.
"I forgot I had some things to do today."
"What sort of things?" Michaela asked, not buying that. She hoped he wasn't trying to avoid her, because being avoided irritated her more than many things. When he didn't answer right away, Elizabeth took the time to step in.
"That works out wonderfully! I have a few errands to run today. Mr. Sully can keep me company. You go on, Michaela. Enjoy your morning." Michaela swallowed hard, looking toward Sully.
"We did make plans."
"It's all right. Sounds like whatever it is must be important." Dr. Webber nodded. "We'll do it some other time."
"Are you certain?" He merely nodded, and she knew he wasn't. She stood, placing her napkin down on the table, and she smiled, trying to hide the fact that she was disappointed. She truly wanted to spend the day with him. It had been so long since she'd seen him, and she hated wasting a single moment of his visit.
"I'll be back this afternoon," she pointed out. She glanced at Sully once more, but he was already engrossed in his breakfast. When she turned to find her medical bag and shawl, Dr. Webber followed after her. Sully finally glanced over, keeping his eyes on the man who was taking his Michaela…no…his best friend out for the day. Why did he have such an uncontrollable feeling of regret in the pit of his stomach?
"Mr. Sully?" Sully glanced at Elizabeth, and she studied his features closely.
"Yes Ma'am?"
"I asked you if you slept well last night."
"Oh. Yes Ma'am," he lied. Elizabeth knew it. Something was going on, and she was determined to find out. She went back to her meal, but Sully kept his eyes on the doorway, listening to Michaela's nervous laughter, as she and Dr. Webber left, closing the door behind them.
September 1870 – Colorado Springs
"Give me another whiskey, Hank," came a voice in the back of the saloon. Hank Lawson turned from his conversation with Liddie, and he pointed her in the direction of a tired looking man at the end of the counter.
"Looks like he needs some cheerin' up," he said in a low voice, his hand reaching for the whiskey bottle. "Take this to that fella, while you're at it." She gave him a knowing grin, and he winked at her. A few moments later, he moved down to stand in front of Jake Slicker, who was thirsty for another shot. "Ain't you had enough, Jake?" he smirked. Jake merely glared at the man he usually called his friend.
"It ain't ever enough," he replied, his scarred hand shaking, as he placed the empty bottle down on the counter.
"Don't ya think ya need to…"
"Ya don't tell me what to do," Jake slurred. "Ya ain't got no idea what…"
"Oh, I got the idea, Jake. I was there too, remember?" He grabbed him by the collar. "I just ain't the one who tries to forget 'bout it by drinkin' myself stupid." He let go of him, and he moved down to pour another whiskey. It was Jake's life. It was Jake's death. It was more money for Hank, as he tried to push back the guilt he felt for helping his friend with his addiction. He'd get over it. He always did.
At that moment, poker chips, gold coins and shot glasses went flying, as a sore loser turned over a poker table after losing all of his money. Hank jumped over the bar to try to stop the fight that was about to occur, but before he could react, a bullet shot out from one gun and buried itself in the chest of a man who was now falling to the floor. Hank cursed under his breath, checking for a pulse on the man. He was alive…barely. "Jake!"
"I'm busy!" he stuttered, slamming his fist down on the counter.
"Well get over here. He's been shot, and ya need to take out the bullet." Jake started to stand, but he stumbled backward, his belly full of fire and whiskey. He felt dizzy, and before he fell, he tried desperately to grab the barstool. After he passed out cold, Hank knew it was too late. He couldn't do anything to help his friend, the man who was bleeding to death…or anybody. The truth of the matter was that the town needed somebody to help take care of these problems. The town needed help. It needed a doctor.