Chapter 45

"Where am I?" she breathed, feeling her hair whip violently against her face in the wind. She ran her fingers through her tangled locks, holding them back as she looked down the long, sandy beach that lead into the darkness of the night. Not even the moonlight could show her the way. She was lost in a chilling tunnel of fog that had rolled in with the waves.

"Michaela!" She turned at his voice. It sounded so far away and so distorted with pain. She couldn't see him. She could feel him near, but she couldn't see him.

"God," she breathed. "Sully!" She felt something cold against her finger, and she looked down to see a solid gold band. "Sully…my husband." Tears flooded her eyes, and she put that hand over her heart. "Where are you? Sully!" Her entire soul cried out, searching for its mate.

Thunder rumbled off in the distance, and she looked up at the sky. It was pure black. She searched for their star, but she couldn't see it. It was gone. The light was gone.

"No," she cried, feeling her knees growing weak. "He needs me. I need to help him. Please, God, let me help him!" She pulled herself up, and she began to run blindly down the foggy, sandy beach, the grains stinging the bottoms of her feet, as she searched vigorously for him. "Sully!"

She could see a form up ahead, but the further she ran, the farther away it became. Tears stung her cheeks like the salty water of the ocean, and she finally collapsed, out of breath and freezing cold. She couldn't reach him. She was failing him.

"Sully," she cried. "Don't leave. Stay with me. Stay like you promised."

"Michaela?" She looked up, seeing his eyes staring into hers, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but when she blinked for only a fraction of a moment, he was gone, and she could hear his screams of agony rolling in with the tide.

January 1871 – Colorado Springs

"NO!" Michaela screamed, sitting up under the heavy confines of the furs and skins. Her naked body was drenched in sweat, and her heart was pounding violently and heavily in her chest. Sully sat up in alarm at the sound of his lover's cries, and he stared wide-eyed at her in the dim light. "No! Sully!" He realized she was still half-asleep, and he gently put his hands upon her shoulders, gripping them and trying to hold her still. She struggled for breath and reached out blindly for him.

"Michaela! Michaela, open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me. I'm here." Michaela's eyes opened, and tears spread forth like flooding rivers. Her eyes searched his, and when she realized it had all been a dream, she collapsed into his arms, falling heavily against his chest, as her sobs choked the silence in the teepee.

He held her close, stroking her hair for the longest minutes, feeling her tremble violently in his arms. He held her so, so close, and when he thought her cries were dissipating, another choked sob emerged, tearing at his heartstrings. She had been so strong before they'd gone to sleep, and now she was trembling like a child after a nightmare, and he didn't know how to soothe her.

Her heart beat quickly in her chest, and her fingers gripped his arms. He was real. He was there. He wasn't gone. But, she could still hear those terrifying screams. God, it had been so real. How could something so real have been a dream?

She swallowed hard, slowly loosening her grip on him.

"Michaela," he whispered after several minutes. She was gasping for breath, and his hands gently coaxed her by rubbing her back. "Michaela…" She lifted her head, and her tear-filled eyes stared desperately up into his. He stroked her tears away, and she leaned into his touch for a moment.

"Sully," she breathed, sitting up and pulling a blanket around her body. Her hair was matted against her sweat-drenched forehead, and Sully reached forward to brush the hair from her eyes.

"I'm here," he promised. "I'm here." She placed her hands over her face for a moment, trying to calm herself, and when she looked back up into his eyes, she felt his love and knew she wasn't dreaming any longer.

"I was trying to find you. I…I couldn't get to you. You were screaming for me, and…and you…you were gone!" The words reverberated off of her vocal cords, straining through the tears not to crack and become lost in the darkness. She tried to breathe and speak again, but instead of air, she felt the contents of her stomach rising forth, and she covered her mouth, scrambling for the entrance of the teepee.

She exited immediately, and Sully heard the sounds of her retching in the snow. He winced and slowly poked his head out of the teepee, seeing her leaning forward in a snow bank. He pulled his buckskins on immediately and rushed out, despite his bare feet, and marched through the snow.

"Michaela," he whispered. When she was finished, she turned back around and wiped her mouth, shaking her head in frustration. Sully realized that the stress of having her mother in town, the stress of looking after Carrie and Charlotte, and the stress of how quickly everything was moving had caused her to finally break down, and it had made her sick. He didn't want to be the cause of that, but he was worried that perhaps he himself was unknowingly pushing her too far too fast.

She slowly stood, but her knees buckled, and he moved to sweep her up, carrying her back to the teepee. Once inside, he tucked several blankets around her and gently dabbed at her forehead with a damp cloth, taking great care not to jostle her for fear she'd be sick again.

Several more minutes passed in silence before Sully asked, "Ya feelin' any better?" She swallowed hard, the vile taste in her mouth making her want to choke, but she suppressed it.

"I don't know, Sully. "I don't know why it seemed so real." She brushed tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands. "It was terrifying. Hearing you scream like that…it hurt so much, Sully. I wanted to find you, but it was as if I was sinking in the sand, and…it was so dark." Sully nodded.

"Shh….rest now." She took a deep, shaking breath. "I'm worried 'bout you, Michaela. Ya been so busy lately. Ya ain't slept well."

"It isn't that," she assured him. "I'm…I'm…that dream, Sully. It was so real. What if it's…it's like Cloud Dancing said? What if it happens? What if I've just seen what's going to happen?" She felt foolish for asking, but she was too terrified to think of anything different.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, gently cupping her cheek in his hand. "It ain't gonna happen, Michaela. You and me, we ain't gonna let that happen." Michaela's tears dampened her eyes again.

"The thought of losing you…it terrifies me more than anything. I don't think I could survive losing you." Sully picked up her hand and gently kissed her knuckles.

"You can do anything, Michaela. You're the strongest woman I know.

'Sides, you ain't gonna lose me. I ain't goin' nowhere. But you're gonna be alright. You're strong. You're so strong." She didn't feel so strong. That dream had struck something within her. It had rocked her to the core, and it made her feel as if no matter what they did in life and no matter where they went, something would always be there to try to pull them apart. They were stronger than that. Right? They could do anything together. Right? They had their entire lives to love one another. Right?

She was still trembling, and Sully tried to swallow the lump in his throat. It didn't go away, and he gathered her up closer, rocking her in his lap, kissing the side of her head and whispering loving words into her ear. But, she was still shivering like a frightened child, and he wasn't sure how to ease those fears.

"I couldn't see it," she whispered after a while.

"See what?" he ventured, gently squeezing her hand. A pause followed and then a shallow breath.

"Our star." It came out almost as a whisper, but he'd heard it. It went from her lips to his heart, and he closed his eyes.

"It's always there, Michaela. Even when we can't see it, it's always there." Michaela closed her eyes and tried her hardest to fall asleep to his soothing words, but inside, her body was tearing itself apart with the need to separate that nightmare from reality. It had felt so real. She could still feel the sand beneath her feet. She could still feel the cold wind biting her flesh. It had been too much at once, and she had to make herself rest. She had to slow down. She then realized that she had to adjust to life in the present before she could think about life in the future.

When Sully felt that Michaela was sleeping, he gently laid her back against the furs and lay down beside her, keeping her hand enclosed in his. He heard her sigh softly, and he gently nuzzled the back of her neck, kissing her there and sending a chill up her spine. She opened her eyes, as she faced the entrance of the teepee, and she let a few tears slip out. She couldn't lose him. She was willing to do anything to make sure that didn't happen.

January 1863

Carrie woke to the sound of whoops and hollers coming from outside of her tent. She took extra care getting out of her cot, as her ever-expanding belly slowed her down. She grimaced and moved to the tent flap, looking outside to see several cowboys standing around, as dust flew up into the moonlit air.

"Papa?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning, as her child kicked her hard within. She placed her hand there and looked around tiredly, spotting her father just a few feet away. He caught her gaze, and she could see the exasperation in his eyes before he turned them away.

"Go on back to bed, Carrie," he said, not looking into her eyes again, afraid that she'd see the failure that still lay there. She saw it only when he didn't look her in the eye, however.

"What's goin' on?" Then she heard a mighty cry, and she recognized it as her friend Marcus'. "Marcus!" she cried. She rushed over and broke through the crowd, pushing drunken cowboys away left and right. She saw one of the older cowboys, Jim, giving Marcus the beating of a lifetime. "Stop it! Stop!" She tried to pull Jim off of him, but she ended up being knocked backward.

"Don't touch her!" Marcus managed to seethe out, as Jim lunged at him again. He mustered enough strength to knock Jim backward, and he stood. A few of the sober cowboys held Jim back, and Marcus rushed to Carrie. He was bleeding and bruised, but he was more concerned for his friend.

"You okay?" She nodded, startled, and he helped her stand, as Tommy made his way through the crowd.

"God! Carrie! You alright?"

"I'm fine, Papa," she said quietly, as Tommy and Marcus both helped her up. Tommy looked at the sober cowhands and nodded at them.

"Sober Jim up. We need him tomorrow." They merely nodded, as Tommy helped Carrie back to her tent. Marcus watched on, and he finally followed, when Carrie's knees buckled. She gripped her stomach in pain and groaned loudly.

"Papa! Somethin's wrong!" she cried. "Oh God! Papa." Marcus tried to enter the tent, but Tommy pushed him back with blunt force.

"You get outta here. You go into town and get the doctor. Tell 'em it's too early. It's too early."

January 1871 – Colorado Springs

Carrie's eyes flew open, and tears immediately poured forth. She felt the pain in her abdomen beginning to throb, and she remembered. Eight years ago on this very day, her life had changed forever.

She glanced over to see Daniel sleeping soundly in his cot, and she wondered why…why hadn't she told him about her baby? Why had she kept it hidden deep within the recesses of her mind for so long? Sometimes she thought she had forgotten, but the deep, painful memories would spill into her heart again, and she would relive that terrifying night over and over.

She gasped for breath, and she threw back her covers, suddenly too warm to care that the temperature was below freezing outside.

With gentility, Carrie slowly sat up and got out of bed, feeling as if she was falling to pieces. But, she placed her hand onto her abdomen and slowly shuffled across the floor. She wanted to wake Daniel up, but he was sleeping so peacefully. In some ways, he reminded her of Marcus, the first friend she'd ever had. The night he'd been beaten had been because of her, but she hadn't known that until later. He had been defending her honor, or whatever had been left of it. Tommy hadn't known what the quarrel was about, or else he would have stopped it. She knew that her father had had good intentions, but sometimes he got confused in his struggle to make her mother proud…a woman who had died too long ago.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she felt dizzy and ill. She started to move back to her bed, but she stumbled and nearly fell. Daniel heard the ruckus, and he opened his eyes just in time to see her catch the bedpost.

"Carrie!" he called out in a frantic whisper. He jumped out of bed and rushed over to help her back into bed. "What're you doin'?"

"Sleepwalkin'?" she tried. He shook his head.

"What're ya doin' tryin' to get outta bed?"

"I needed a drink."

"Ya shoulda woke me up. I'd have got it for ya." He moved to the water pitcher, and Carrie sighed.

"Got anything stronger than water?" Daniel shook his head and handed her a glass. He could tell she was trying to make light of the situation.

"Carrie, 'til Michaela gets back into town, ya better stay in bed. I don't want ya hurtin' yourself." The moonlight filtered into the room and shined into Carrie's eyes, revealing the sadness to Daniel. He saw that her cheeks were stained with tears, and he swallowed hard. He quickly moved to light an oil lamp.

"Wait! Don't!" But a moment later, a soft golden glow illuminated the room. Carrie brushed her hands over her face.

"Carrie, what's the matter? Do ya hurt?"

"No! I'm fine," she hissed. "Go back to bed 'fore ya wake the other folks up." She motioned toward the room next door where Charlotte Cooper rested with her children.

"Ya gotta talk about it sometime. Ya know it ain't good to keep it…"

"I know that. I just don't wanna talk about it right now. I ain't talked about it in a long time, and I just wanna…I just…" She winced in pain, and Daniel's heart fell.

"I'm sorry, Carrie. I'm sorry." He turned to leave, but she reached for his hand. He slowly took her hand in his, uncertain of what to make of her gesture. But he could see that she needed him there. She didn't need him to talk. She just needed him to be there and to hold her, so she could feel the comfort of knowing that somebody was there; somebody cared.

"Stay," she pleaded. "Just…just stay." Slowly, he sat down on the edge of her bed and held her hand until she fell into a dreamless sleep, tears still dampening her eyes and slipping out to soak her pillowcase.

February 1830 – Boston

Elizabeth stepped into the parlor of her home in her finest new dress. It was white with delicate pink roses embroidered down the skirt. A thin, silky shawl draped over her shoulders, as her hair flowed down her shoulders and back in soft ringlets of golden brown.

"You look wonderful," her mother said with a slightly Irish accent, a beaming smile, and eyes that glistened green. Elizabeth's eyes, however, glistened with tears. She wished that she could say she was going to enjoy her evening with Stephen, but alas, her parents and Josef Quinn's parents had set up this evening for the two of them.

"Do I have to go, Mother?" she asked with a trembling lip.

"Oh, Elizabeth, stop this nonsense. You're going to have a wonderful time." Elizabeth didn't see how that was possible.

"I need some air," she finally announced. The heels of her shoes clicked upon the marble floor, as she walked to the front door and left quickly. The cold air stung her skin, but it felt better than the glare of her mother's eyes. She only wished she could run off and elope with Stephen. Then her mother could no longer control her life. Then…then…

"Elizabeth?" The sound of his voice sent trembles up and down her spine, and she smiled widely with surprise at seeing him.

"Stephen!" She rushed to him, and he enveloped her into his arms, kissing her lovingly on the mouth, ignoring all rules of propriety.

"Elizabeth, I've missed you."

"Where have you been? It's been…it's been…"

"My father took me with him to New York. I just got back." He cleared his throat. "He's insisting that I look into a job there if I'm going to make a decent living. He's offered to buy us a home there. It's a beautiful place, Elizabeth. It's just gorgeous." Elizabeth took a deep breath. "You could have your rose garden outside and your own parlor. I would have my study. It's…it's a dream come true." Elizabeth's eyes sparkled.

"Oh, Stephen," she breathed. "I want to marry you. I do." Tears stained her cheeks.

"Then marry me," he whispered, gently kissing her hand.

"Oh, Stephen," she cried. "They…they…"

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"They want me to marry Josef Quinn!" she cried. "I've never met him! I don't even know him. I don't love him. I love you! I want to be your wife." Stephen swallowed hard, and he held her close. Their eyes peered into each other's, and Elizabeth's lips yearned for his touch.

"Then marry me. Tonight." His eyes searched hers. Her heart spoke before her head, and her lips complied.

"Yes."

January 1871 – Colorado Springs

Before dawn, Elizabeth stepped out onto the porch of the boarding house for a breath of fresh air. Dreams had haunted her the night before, and her heart began telling her that she was a hypocrite for trying to deny her daughter of true love. But, she was trying to keep her daughter from making the same mistakes as she had; from getting a broken heart.

She took a heavy breath and sat down upon a chair, looking out over the deserted streets, wishing she were back in Boston where the streets were already crowded at this time of the morning.

She looked down at the wedding ring she still wore on her finger. Josef's ring. She had been so happy the day she had put that on. It was amazing how quickly her feelings toward him had changed after they'd met. She didn't regret marrying him for one moment, but she also didn't regret loving Stephen. How could she regret loving him, when they had had their futures laid out before them thanks to his father? How could she when he promised to love her and be true to her until death parted them?

She smiled fondly at the memory of his boyish grin, his kind eyes, and the way they melted her heart in special ways, when he held her close and peered into her eyes, promising her forever.

The sound of a rooster crowing in the distance brought Elizabeth out of her memories. She swallowed hard and pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders.

Where was Michaela? Why wasn't she home yet? Was it already too late to stop her from making a decision that could haunt her for the rest of her life?

"You okay?" Sully asked for the sixth time since they'd left the reservation. Michaela glanced at him from atop flash.

"Yes, Sully. I'm fine." Her words were biting, and she didn't mean for them to be. He knew she was irritable from the nightmare she'd had hours ago. Somehow, he knew she hadn't slept much afterward, but he had tried to make her feel as safe and comfortable as possible.

"If ya need to stop…"

"I don't," she assured him. "I'm feeling much better now. I think I was just exhausted, and it caught up to me."

"When we get back to town, I want ya to take a nap." Michaela eyed him.

"A nap? Sully, I have far too many things to do than to worry about taking a nap. I have two patients in my care and guests to entertain."

"I think your ma and sister would understand if ya took a few hours to yourself." Michaela sighed heavily and looked straight ahead.

"I'll rest when I have time, Sully. I have far too many things to do today." She swallowed hard and took a swig of water from her canteen. She felt her stomach growl, but she knew that if she ate anything, she might not be able to keep it down. Her nerves were so incredibly on edge that she was making herself sick.

"I don't mean to push ya, Michaela," Sully pointed out. Michaela shook her head.

"You're not," she assured him.

"I'm just worried about ya." A weak smile spread across her pale face.

"And I appreciate that," she whispered, reaching out and taking his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, as they rode side-by-side on their horses.

When they finally let go of one another, Flash snorted and thrashed her head back, eager to have a good run. Michaela grinned and looked over at Sully.

"I think she wants to race." Sully raised an eyebrow, watching Michaela carefully. He thought he saw a little color come back to her cheeks, but he wasn't certain she should be racing if she wasn't feeling well.

"You feelin' up to that?" She truly wasn't, but she wanted to feel the wind in her hair and the thrill of the chase. She wanted to have fun. She needed some kind of exhilaration after the previous day's argument with her mother. Without a word, she nudged Flash's sides, and Sully was left in a trail of dust and snow. He brought his horse in a fast canter, and he could hear Michaela's melodious laughter sifting through the tree branches and the cloud of snow he was trailing behind.

As they passed over a snowy ridge, he heard the laughter stop, and he saw Flash skid to a halt in a foot-and-a-half of snow. Michaela dismounted quickly and fell to her knees, lurching over and holding her stomach. Sully immediately dismounted his horse and rushed to her, holding back her hair and gently rubbing her back to ease her as she sputtered and retched.

When silence and calm settled over them, Sully slowly helped her to her feet and gave her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth with. She gave him a miserable smile and shook her head.

"I suppose that race wasn't such a wonderful idea." She scolded herself for being so foolish.

"Probably not," he said quietly. "But ya won." Michaela shook her head with a tired smile, and Sully gently helped her up. "Let's just get back to town."

Sully apprehensively helped her back up onto her horse, and they traveled the rest of the way in silence with Michaela's nightmare still weighing heavily on their minds.