Chapter 64

Valentine's Day 1871 – Cheyenne Reservation

"You have told him what he needs to hear?" Snow Bird asked, as Cloud Dancing entered their teepee. She rested against a pile of furs, her hand over her expanding stomach. Cloud Dancing nodded and sat across from his wife.

"I do not believe that I have helped my brother," he said quietly. "I have only brought him more worries…worries that he does not need."

"You've told him everything?"

"I told him all the Spirits would allow," Cloud Dancing said quietly. "I only speak what they permit me to speak." Snow Bird gazed at her husband.

"He is family," she said thoughtfully. "She is his family and now a part of ours." She paused for a moment. "We must do what is necessary to protect them." Cloud Dancing nodded in agreement.

"The Spirits watch over them, but they do not control the actions of others. They must be cautious. That is the warning the Sprits have given them, and we will do what we must to keep our family safe, but even we cannot always save them from themselves." He reached for Snow Bird's hand. "Do not worry. Our family is strong."

Valentine's Day 1871 – Colorado Springs

"Where are you going?" She reached for him, but she grasped air. "Sully! Talk to me!" She caught up to him, placing her hands on his shoulders and turning him around. "Sully, please!"

"I can't stay. I can't." He shrugged her hands away and moved toward the door, unable to look into her pain-filled eyes. She could hear his heart breaking. She could feel it. His heart was hers.

"Why not?" she pleaded. "Sully! Talk to me!" Why couldn't he admit that he was doing the wrong thing? Finally, he turned back to her, seeing her fear in the light of the moon. Her tears glistened upon her cheeks, as she held her hands protectively over her swollen belly.

"I can't hurt you." She shook her head. How could he hurt her? He would never!

"You're just leaving?" she asked. "Weren't you going to say goodbye? Weren't you going to give me answers? Sully! You would never hurt me! How could you leave me?"

"I can't stay. If I do, I'll end up hurtin' you, and I wouldn't be able to live with it." She could see him fighting with himself on the inside, begging for a reason to stay, but he was struggling. He wanted to stay. His heart just wouldn't let him.

"What about your promise? You promised you'd stay! You promised him you wouldn't leave!" She pointed to Johnny's room. "What about our vows? Our plans! Sully…"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do."

"Of course not. Of course not. You just…have to run away again. Like always. What happened to facing this together? At least I know where you stand now. At least I know that even you can break your promises." She shook her head angrily. "You promised that everything would be alright. You told me we'd be happy, Sully! I gave up so much for you!" She was screaming now. Was this killing him as much as it was killing her?

"I'm sorry, Michaela…"

"If you were sorry, you'd take it back! You'd stay!"

"I can't stay! You don't know how much I…"

"No! I don't accept that! I won't! I can't!" Sully tried to reach out to her, but she only pulled away. There was no turning back now. "If you loved me, you'd stay."

"I do, Michaela. I do love you," he whispered.

"No you don't. Not anymore. The man that loved me never would have left me. You're throwing it all away because you're afraid? I thought we were through this! Now I see that we aren't. We'll never be through it. Never." He tried to reach for her, but she turned away again.

"Michaela."

"No!" she screamed. "Don't touch me! I hate you, Byron Sully! Do you hear me? I'll never forgive you! I hate you!"

Michaela startled quickly, her heart pounding and aching at the same time, as those shrill words spun through her mind over and over again.

"No!" she cried, waking Sully from his slumber. She sat up, realizing that the hour was growing late, but the sound of music in the air told her that the night was far from over.

"Michaela!" Sully exclaimed. "What's wrong? What is it? Is it the baby?" Michaela's hand rested over her heart, and tears sprung forward. She took deep, gasping breaths, waiting to wake completely. Waiting to realize that it had been an awful dream. He'd never leave her. Never.

"Sully?"

"I'm here. I'm here."

"You were leaving. You…you…I hated you!" she cried. "I…" She burst into tears, and he held her, thinking about what she'd just said. "You…you were leaving."

"Shh…shh," he soothed, rubbing her back. "I ain't leavin'. I'd never leave. Ya know that. I…"

"It was so real, Sully! So real!" He rocked her slowly in his arms.

"I know, but it's over now. This is real. This is." Michaela trembled in his arms until reality began to settle in. When she was calm, she slowly sat up and looked into his eyes.

"We were arguing, Sully. You said you were leaving so I wouldn't be hurt." Sully swallowed hard, his own nightmare haunting him once more. Cloud Dancing's words were ringing in his head. "I was screaming at you, and…and I told you I hated you. I didn't mean it…I…I could never…I couldn't hate you, Sully…I was just…so…so frightened!" She scolded herself for being so weak, but at the same time, she didn't care, because it was so easy to fall to pieces in his arms and know that she'd still be whole when all was said and done.

"It was just a dream, Michaela. That's it." What if it was a vision? What if this was how they were going to end up? He couldn't live that way. He couldn't lose her. His thumbs delicately brushed across her cheeks, and he gave her a reassuring smile while his own heart was breaking on the inside.

"Just hold me," she whispered, needing his touch now more than ever. She needed to feel him. She needed to know that when she reached out, he'd be there, and she wouldn't be touching air. She needed to feel his heart against hers and know that this was real.

Her lips sought his, and his hands gently gripped her waist. Her hands came to his neck and pulled him down on her. She shuddered with need—with desire—and his lips touched hers with as much intensity as there was delicateness.

His breath mixed with hers, as their chests rose and fell against each other's. Sully's hand slowly moved down her body and lay protectively over her womb. Michaela gasped when Sully's lips met her neck, and she began to tremble again. They couldn't. Not yet. But it felt so right. She missed this. She wanted this. Her hands were too weak to stop him, and her mind was flickering back and forth between right and wrong. What she wanted and what she needed were separate right now. They were supposed to be, anyway.

Their lips met again in a sensual kiss, intoxicating their souls with the hypnotizing sensations of a lover's embrace. Michaela's hands on his back scorched a trail of desire from his flesh to his very being. His tongue penetrated the barrier of her lips, kissing her deeply, as she moaned into his mouth, and his moans joined hers.

But, just as quickly as their passion had escalated, they both began to realize that this couldn't happen. They had to stop before any more damage was done. They had to wait.

"I need you," she breathed, as his lips kissed her forehead, and he began to pull back. "I need you…" Slowly, he rolled to his side, and lay beside her on the bed. Their hands joined together, and she turned her head so she could stare at him. His free hand gently swept across her cheek, and he kissed her once more, letting the moment linger for a few seconds, before he sighed softly and pulled away, his desires and longings still aching to be satisfied. When his eyes gazed into hers, he knew she had those same desires—those same longings—and the restraint they had to keep was tearing them both apart on the inside.

"It's torture," he teased, as he kissed the tip of her nose. She smiled back at him, the tears nearly all dried up. "But it'll be better in the end." He kissed her eyelids one at a time.

"Much better," she agreed, with a nod. Sully smiled, and their lips met once again. They could feel each other's heartbeats thumping so rapidly between them. Their eyes opened, and their lips slowly parted, and their souls connected, reaching out and holding on for dear life, before a soft sigh broke them apart, and Michaela rolled onto her back, waiting for her pulse to stop racing. Sully watched her, and for a moment, his mind flashed with her painful expression in his dream. The expression that had quickly left her face lifeless after the shot—after he shot her—and he slowly rolled onto his back, swallowing the lump in his throat. He couldn't think about it right now. No, she needed him now. She didn't need his guilt, his worries, his fears. "Sully?"

"Hmm?" he asked quietly after a few moments.

"What time is it?" Sully glanced at the clock across the room and smiled tiredly.

"Just thirty minutes 'til your birthday," he replied with a chuckle. Michaela grinned, her face brightening just a little, happy for the momentary escape from the clutches of her nightmares.

"Sully?" she asked again.

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me tonight?" She turned her head to look at him again, her cheeks blushing crimson. "All night?" He smiled a little and squeezed her hand.

"Can't think of any place I'd rather be." He brought her hand to his and kissed it softly. She closed her eyes and rested against the pillow. They lay in silence for several moments, until a knock came to the door. Sully quickly sat up and let go of Michaela's hand, and Michaela pulled her blankets up a little further.

"Yes?" she called.

"It's me," came Johnny's voice.

"And me!" Mary added. Sully glanced at Michaela, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Come in," Sully called. The door immediately burst open, and Johnny looked up at his father.

"Hi Pa," he said quietly.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Can't sleep."

"Me neither," Mary said quietly.

"Are you not feeling well?" Michaela asked quietly, starting to sit up.

"I'm alright."

"Me too," Mary said with a nod. "Just not sleepy."

"It's eleven thirty!" Michaela said with a chuckle. "Did you have too much candy from Miss Olive's today?" Mary and Johnny looked at each other guiltily.

"Maybe just a little," Johnny replied.

"Well, ya best get back in bed and try to sleep," Sully pointed out. "Ya have school tomorrow."

"Can we at least stay up for Aunt Michaela's birthday?" Mary pleaded. Michaela and Sully couldn't say no to such pitiful, sweet faces.

"I suppose another half hour wouldn't hurt," Michaela said tiredly, her smile brightening her face.

"Will you tell us a story!" Mary asked, hopping up onto the bed. Sully chuckled, as she situated herself on one side of her aunt.

"Yeah! I wanna hear a story!" Johnny got up onto the bed and sat at the foot of it, resting his back against the bedposts. Sully shook his head and settled down beside his son, and without thinking, Michaela propped her feet into his lap, and his hands began to gently massage them, bringing her great comfort.

"What story would you like to hear?" Michaela asked. Johnny thought for a moment.

"Tell us about Boston!" he said quietly.

"What do you want to know?" He pondered his options for only a few seconds.

"What were you like when you were a kid?" he queried. Michaela laughed.

"Oh dear," she said, shaking her head. "I think I was a bit of a handful, but I always tried to be well mannered."

"Did ya ever get into a lot of trouble?" Michaela laughed and searched her memories, not having to search very far.

"Well, there was this one time…"

"Oh, what happened?" Mary asked eagerly.

"Let her tell the story," Johnny hissed.

"Sorry…"

"That's alright," Michaela replied patiently. She began to tell the story of one of her childhood adventures into her father's medical cabinet and a certain complication that arose after spilling a bottle of acid all over one of his medical charts. As she told the story, Sully saw all of the life come back to her eyes and the fears and worries escape for just a little while. The children brought that out in her, and he was grateful for that. He only hoped that her spirits could stay lifted for a little while longer. Seeing her hurting was hurting him, and the more she hurt, the more he thought about his nightmares. But right now, they were a family, and family was the one thing that mattered to him most.

"Look at 'em," Carrie said quietly, as she watched Tommy and Olive dancing. "I don't think they even realize they've been dancing for four whole songs." Daniel chuckled, nervously awaiting the opportune moment in which he could ask Carrie to be his wife. He wanted to get her alone, but she didn't seem to be ready to leave the dance yet, but he couldn't be angry about that. She was enjoying herself at a social event. She was mingling and talking and getting to know people. He'd never seen her so bright-eyed before!

"They look happy," Daniel said quietly. "Maybe that was what they both needed." Carrie nodded in agreement before she laughed.

"Ya know, if my pa wasn't leavin' tomorrow, I'd say it might do 'em some good to get married." She shook her head. "'Course who am I to talk 'bout somebody else's future when I don't even know what I want?" Daniel eyed her, and she gently wrung her hands at the sides of her skirt. "Seein' other folks getting ready to get married—like Dr. Mike and Sully—that's one thing, but thinkin' 'bout it myself is kinda scary."

"Scary?" He shifted nervously in his spot.

"Well, yeah. Ya never know what the future's gonna hold. I'm still young. I got plenty of time. I don't need…need to get married right away like my ma and pa did. I mean, look at Dr. Mike. She's older than me, and she's just getting ready to get married. Look at everything she's accomplished. She's a doctor, she's met the right man. She's happy." Daniel's throat was dry. "I admire her. She didn't get married and have babies right away. She did somethin' most people figured women can't do, and…and look at her. She's got a good life. I think that's pretty…pretty great."

Before Daniel had a chance to think or speak, Kid Cole and Ruth came walking over. Kid Cole looked quite exhausted, but Ruth seemed as bubbly as she had before the dance had begun.

"Say Deputy," Kid Cole said hoarsely, "why don't ya do me and my wife a favor and take her for a spin 'round the dance floor once or twice? She seems to think my feet were built to dance all night." Carrie and Ruth laughed together, and Carrie looked up at Daniel.

"Go on. I'll wait here and talked to Sheriff Cole," she said quietly. Disappointed that he didn't get to stay and talk more with Carrie, he turned to Ruth and offered his arm. She dragged him off to dance, and Carrie laughed, shaking her head. "How ya like Colorado Springs, Mr. Cole?"

"Oh, it ain't so bad. To tell ya the truth, Ruth practically dragged me here," he laughed, removing his hat and running his fingers through his short, black hair. Carrie smiled. "She thought it'd be good for me."

"Yeah. I been hearin' stories 'bout you," Carrie said with a slow nod. "Sounds like you had a rough life."

"Well, we all gotta keep livin' somehow, don't we?" he asked with a smile, leaning back against a tall post. Carrie eyed him, realizing that was true. "We all do things in life we ain't proud of, and I got more than enough of 'em. But Ruth always tells me—she says—if I'm gonna live a good life 'n be happy, I gotta start livin' the way my mama raised me. Or somethin' like that." He glanced at Ruth, and Carrie saw the smile pull at his lips. She watched Ruth dance with Daniel, and she saw how her eyes would gaze over at her husband from time to time. That was love. She looked toward the clinic, where a light burned in Michaela's bedroom window. She thought of the way Michaela and Sully gazed at one another, no matter how much or how little time they spent together in the span of a day. That was love. Then she looked at Daniel and remembered the way he'd been there for her after everything that had happened in St. Louis. He had been her savior when she'd tried her hardest to keep her head above water. That was love too.

"Your Pa wants to dance with ya." Carrie spun around to see Olive standing there with Tommy right by her side. Something in Olive's eyes were different, and she couldn't hide the smile. Even her father had changed just a little. It was as if two long-lost lovers had found their way back to one another for just one night.

"Well, I'd be glad to," Carrie laughed. "Excuse me, Mr. Cole." Kid Cole nodded and tipped his hat to her, and she went off with her father to dance. Olive watched her daughter and Tommy, and her heart ached. She wished she didn't have to feel so bad, but she knew she still deserved it. But she was proud. She'd brought a life into the world that was strong and beautiful. And what hurt the most was knowing that she'd had no part in who Carrie was today. Carrie had been through many terrible ordeals, yes, but in the end, she was blossoming into a good person—a good woman—and she had her entire life ahead of her.

October 1832 – Boston

"Duck!" Robert squealed, as he sat in his mother's lap on the bank of the Charles. Rebecca sat timidly to the side, playing with a pretty white flower she'd found in the grass.

"Do you like the ducks, Robert?" Elizabeth asked softly, gently running her fingers through his feathery hair. The boy nodded vigorously, even though he wasn't quite certain what his mother had said, but she'd mentioned ducks, so he was excited.

"Ka! Ka! Becca!" Robert rattled. Rebecca turned toward her twin brother, and she giggled. She enjoyed having a brother. He was fun to play with and to keep mother and father up at all hours of the night with. They had been inseparable since birth.

"Do you want to play with your sister?" Elizabeth asked, placing the young boy down in the grass beside his sister. The two began to pick what few flowers were left in the middle of Autumn. Elizabeth watched her children, as the sun began to move across the sky, slowly burning an invisible hole in the atmosphere. She could almost see Heaven. She could almost seen the wings of angels, as they flew overhead, watching over her, watching over her children, and ensuring that they led a happy life…a fulfilled life.

A young man walked past her, and she smiled, thinking about how his future was right in front of him, and all he had to do was reach out and take it. That's what she and Stephen had done. And in some kind of ironic twist of fate, she'd lost that love, but she had gained two gifts that would forever connect her to the man she could no longer have. Two precious gifts sat at her side, growing, living, loving, and learning.

The sun hindered her sight for a moment, and she looked away, smiling as she glanced at her children. Rebecca had fallen onto her back, and she was gazing up at the blue sky, as Robert stuffed grass into her coat pockets. Elizabeth laughed and pulled the boy into her arms.

"Are you mother's silly little boy?" she asked. He giggled, as she kissed his cheek and tickled him. It was the precious moments like this that made her truly feel alive. But, when she looked away again, she saw another man—tall and strong—and he was walking along the banks with his head held down, as if he was thinking hard about something. She watched his gate and his posture, and he reminded her so much of Stephen.

"Stephen," she whispered.

"Steben," Robert tried. "Ben…Ste…" He crawled out of his mother's lap and took fistfuls of grass between his fingers before examining the little ants that crawled underneath.

Elizabeth stood slowly.

"Stephen," she whispered again. It couldn't be, but he looked so very much like him. Should she go to him? Should she pass him by? And she felt the weight of Josef's ring on her finger, and her heart filled with guilt and shame. She was his now. She was a mother to Stephen's children, but she was a wife to Josef…and about to be a mother to a child of his own. She placed her hand upon her stomach, and she closed her eyes.

The screech of one of her children caused her to spin around, and she saw that Robert had taken a fall, hitting his head on the soft ground. Despite the fact that he was unharmed, he was still left red-faced and runny-nosed from crying. So, she scooped him up, took Rebecca into her other arm, gave one last glance to the man who could have been her first true love, and started off for home, and as they marched onward, Robert turned his head to look toward the sparkling water, waving bye-bye to the ducks before falling asleep on his mother's shoulder.

Valentine's Day 1871 – Boston

"She hasn't come out of her room all day or night," Martha explained, as Marjorie rushed down the hall toward her mother's bedroom. The maid followed in her nightgown, exhausted by the late hour. "I didn't dare to disturb her. She's been awfully belligerent lately…"

"I know how to handle my mother," Marjorie said quickly, as she knocked on her mother's door. "Mother, it's Marjorie." No response. "Mother! It's Marjorie. I'm coming in." She rattled the doorknob, and for a moment, the door hesitated, but seconds later, it creaked open. When Marjorie stepped in, she felt a sudden drop in the temperature. Something was wrong. Martha followed in behind her, and she gasped, when she saw Elizabeth's form draped across the floor in an unpleasant manner. Marjorie's gaze caught the same sight, and she gasped in horror. "Mother!" Rushing to her side, she knelt down and immediately checked her pulse, remembering her father doing this on more than one occasion.

"Is..is she…?" Martha stammered.

"She's alive," Marjorie said quietly. "Help me…help me get her into bed and then go after Dr. Landon Webber."

"Yes…yes," Martha said hurriedly before she bellowed for Harrison. The butler rushed in, and he immediately helped take Elizabeth to her bed. A few moments later, both the maid and the butler were rushing out of the Quinn home in their nightclothes, hoping to get the doctor as soon as possible.

"Mother," Marjorie said softly, placing her hand in her mother's, "please, don't do this. Don't leave like this." And then she saw the book sprawled out on the floor, and she placed her hand over her mouth. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up, leafing through the pages to see her mother's very handwriting. "So this is what you've been doing." She bit her lower lip for a moment, closed the book, placed it aside, and decided to focus on her mother for now, but the book wasn't far from her mind.

February 15th 1871 – Colorado Springs

"Michaela," Sully whispered, gently touching her sleeping hand at the stroke of midnight. Johnny and Mary had fallen asleep minutes ago, and he had carried them off to bed. In the process, she had fallen asleep, and Sully was glad to see that she had had some peace.

"Sully?" she whispered, as she slowly opened her eyes. "I must have…fallen asleep." Sully smiled down at her.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered, gently leaning down to kiss her forehead and then her lips. Thirty-one. She was another year older, yet her tired, pained state made her feel twenty years older.

"A happy one it is," she said with a smile, as her fingers stroked the back of his hand. "Thank you for being here with me." He crawled into bed beside her and enfolded her into his arms. He placed soft kisses to her cheek before claiming her lips in a loving kiss, and when he pulled back, he whispered to her.

"I'll always be here."

"C'mon, Horace," Daniel said harshly, as he helped the telegraph operator sit down on the steps of the barbershop. Jake sat nearby—whiskey bottle in hand—and he watched as Hank enjoyed himself with the drunken man, and his girl Liddie waited nearby just in case he needed her for anything else that evening.

"I ain't never h-had p-punch like that bef…before," Horace said woozily. "I t-think s-somethin' might've been wr-wrong with it." He hiccupped loudly before groaning and clutching his stomach. Daniel looked at a smirking Hank. By then, all of the couples had gathered nearby, curious to see if Horace would be able to make it back home on his own two feet.

"I think you're just tired, Horace," Hank said with a laugh. "Ya been workin' real hard lately. Noticed ya been real quiet." Horace stared off at nothing.

"I have?"

"Sure have," Hank said quietly. "In fact, ya looked like ya been thinkin' real hard 'bout some things."

"Hank," Timothy warned. "I think it'd be best if we got Horace home. He's had enough for one night."

"I agree," Rebecca said quietly, clutching Timothy's arm a little harder than normal. "Leave the poor man alone."

"Say, Horace," Hank said quietly, "what's been botherin' ya?" Horace glanced up at him, trying to focus his sight.

"I ain't t-tellin' on Dr. Mike! I took an oath!" he said matter-of-factly. Everybody stopped, and Rebecca, Ruth, and Charlotte all froze, their faces carrying the same expression of knowledge, fear, and dread at the same time.

"What's wrong with her, Horace?" Hank asked. Charlotte stepped forward, and eyes turned to her for just a moment, but Horace hung his head between his legs, feeling nauseated, but when he looked up again, all eyes turned back to him.

"C'mon Hank," Charlotte warned. "That ain't your business or nobody else's."

"You know, don't ya?" Hank asked. "You're the one who keeps runnin' to check on her. You're pals with her, ain't ya? You ain't even a doctor. What could…"

"That don't mean nothin'," Charlotte said quickly. "She is my friend, and 'cause she cared for me when I was doin' poorly, I returned the favor." Matthew stepped up behind his mother.

"My ma's right, Hank. Leave Horace alone. Let him sleep it off." Hank dismissed the young man's comments, before turning back to Horace.

"It's getting awful late," Kid Cole spoke up. "Why don't we all go home and get some sleep?"

"What's she got? She's been cooped up in that clinic for days now. What's wrong with her, Horace? If it's catchin', we don't wanna be around it."

"I think we best leave the poor man alone," Ruth spoke up. "Let's let him rest."

"I think we ought to know the truth! If it's gonna get to all of us, we got the right to know!" Jake spoke up.

"If it was catchin'…"

"If it's catchin', most of us already woulda caught it," Grace piped in. "I been up there with food, Olive's been up there too. Mrs. Cole, Carrie, Daniel…" Grace folded her arms across her chest. "I don't think it's none of our business."

"Let's please just leave Mr. Bing alone," Rebecca continued. "I don't believe my sister's health is of any concern to the town."

"Why wouldn't it be? If she ain't gonna be doin' her job proper then we best be lookin' into getting a new doctor."

"Ya don't know what you're talkin' about, Hank, so just…" Charlotte was interrupted by Jake, who smirked at her, his own words a bit slurred.

"You gonna let some woman tell you what to do, Hank?" Jake asked. "S-she's friends with the doctor anyhow. Ya know…I bet she'd lie for her." He turned back to Horace. "Horace here is…is the only one who could t-tell us like it is."

"Can't I t-talk for m-myself?" Horace stuttered. He stood, but he immediately had to lean against a pole to stabilize himself.

"Come on, Horace," Jake chimed in. "Ya can tell us. We ain't tellin'…"

"I don't tell nothin'! I took an oath…"

"But she didn't send no telegram, and ya ain't a doctor. If somethin' is wrong with our town doctor, we ought to know," Jake badgered.

"Let's drop it," Kid Cole warned. "This ain't doin' nothin' but stirrin' up trouble that none of us need tonight." He made his way up to Horace. "Let's get you home." Just as he was leading Horace away, the telegraph operator glared at Hank.

"Ought to learn how to m-mind your own business, Hank," he mumbled. "Tryin' to get me to tell on Dr. Mike. Nope. If I tell folks she's expectin' a b-baby with S-Sully, she'll get run outta town for sure." And everyone froze, staring at the telegraph operator, as he continued to mumble incoherently about something else all together, not realizing he'd just released the secret the doctor had been trying to hide so desperately.