Chapter 73

February 1871 – Boston

"This is my room?" Johnny asked with wide eyes, as Martha opened up one of the guest rooms. The room was large, and though it was lavishly decorated, Martha and Harrison had made it as comfortable for a little boy as they possibly could, even stocking it with toys from the store down the street.

"For as long as you're here," Martha said with a grin. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah!" Johnny said with a nod. "I didn't know Dr. Mike's ma had such a big house." Martha's eyes twinkled at the little boy's innocence. "She's told me stories, but I never saw a place this big before." He sighed and hurried over to the bed, leaping up onto it. He bounced a few times before landing flat on his bottom. "Dr. Mike says she's got a lot of sisters. Musta been strange growin' up without no brothers. I used to have sisters, but…they died." He looked down. "I hope I get a brother." Martha smiled sympathetically, and she thought nothing of his last comment, though her heart broke a little at the thought of young Robert. His memory was certainly not gone from that house. Every corner held a memory, and Martha only wished that they hadn't bottled him up inside of the past and pretended as if he'd never existed.

"Johnny!" came Mary's voice, as she came bounding through a door on the side wall. "We get connecting rooms!" She giggled, and Harrison came rushing after her with one of her favorite dolls. He had a look of exasperation on his face, but everyone knew he enjoyed having children in the house again.

"Miss Mary!" he said quickly. "Your doll!" She hurried back over to him.

"Thank you, Harrison," she said with a giggle, taking her doll, affectionately named Elise, into her arms. "Can we go to the confectionary now?" Martha and Harrison shared a knowing glance.

"Well, we should wait for your mother to return," Martha said with a nod.

"Can't Harrison take us?" Harrison's gaze met hers, and for a moment, she saw a glint in his eyes. He'd always cared for the Quinn children and their children as if they were his own, and the idea of a day off with Mrs. Quinn away seemed too hard to pass up.

"Please?" Johnny begged.

"It may be best," Harrison pointed out. "Perhaps we should wait." Johnny's face filled with disappointment.

"Alright," he said quietly. Mary sighed heavily and moved over to take Johnny's hand.

"Come on. We'll go explore some more! It's a big house." Mary dragged him off again, and Martha shook her head, laughing softly.

"That little girl is going to drag him all over creation."

"I don't see him protesting," Harrison said with a chuckle.

"Oh, they're just children, Harrison. Come along. Let's prepare the rest of the guest rooms." She motioned for him to follow her, and they left the room, going about the house and making sure all was prepared for the family's homecoming.

February 1871 – Colorado Springs

Kid Cole stepped into the sheriff's office, surprised to see Daniel working on the broken lock on the cell they hardly ever had to use.

"Daniel? What're you doin' here?" Kid Cole asked quietly, as he moved toward the back of the office.

"Just thought I'd get to this lock. I know I said I'd do it tomorrow, but I figured I'd keep myself busy." Kid Cole nodded slowly.

"Somethin' on your mind?"

"Nope."

"You sure?" Though he was younger than Daniel, he couldn't help but sense that his deputy needed somebody to talk to.

"Yep. I'm just fine." Daniel let the tool in his hand slip loose, and it clattered to the floor. He sighed heavily, and he shook his head.

"I'd say ya had somethin' on your mind. If ya wanna talk about it…"

"I don't." Kid Cole nodded.

"Well, alright. I'm takin' Ruth out to check on Widow Sanderson. She promised Dr. Mike she'd take her some soup from time to time. She gets lonely out there, and…well, if ya need anything…"

"Soon as I finish up here, I'll lock up and go home." Kid Cole nodded.

"Alright. We'll, I'll see ya around." He paused for a moment before leaving, having a strong feeling that whatever Daniel's problems were related to a certain pretty lady that had had his eye for some time. Kid Cole could only hope that Daniel would find the kind of happiness with her that he himself had found with Ruth.

Carrie leaned over the counter, waiting for more customers to come in. She was happy that Olive had trusted her enough to leave her alone so soon. But, business had been rather quiet, and Carrie was mildly relieved that she hadn't had anything difficult to deal with yet. Besides, her mind hadn't exactly been on business. Ever since Daniel had left, her mind had been on that kiss.

She felt more and more comfortable with him each time they kissed. But there was still such an uncertainty between them. Yes, she loved him, but she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do with her life yet. It was times like these that she wished she had her mother to turn to for advice.

With a frown, she opened up one of the catalogs and browsed through the pages, seeing different styles of dresses she never would have dreamed of wearing when she was out on the cattle drive. But now, her life was changing, and she was enjoying not having to get dirty and help rope cattle all day. Her life had changed for the better, and now she could see herself dressing the part of a lady. But something didn't feel right about it. She couldn't pretend to be something she wasn't, and she knew that in many ways, she was far from being a lady. She could still drink with the best of them and curse like a sailor, but she could also love with all of her heart, and that felt most important now.

She moved toward the window, watching as the sun moved in its invisibly slow path across the sky. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of it upon her face, and she suddenly felt all alone.

Looking down, she noticed a piece of paper loosely wedged under the counter. She frowned and picked it up, slowly brining it to the counter top. She noticed Olive's handwriting in what appeared to be a letter. She knew better than to read other people's mail, but she couldn't help but notice her name scrawled across a line.

Carrie is a special young lady, and I'm proud every time I see her take each new day as it comes. She's come a long way since she got here.

Carrie furrowed her brows and swallowed hard, wondering what Olive could possibly be writing about her for, but when she saw another potential customer enter, she quickly tossed the paper aside, deciding to forget about it for now. She was certain there was nothing to worry about, and Olive had simply been writing to a friend about the town's progress. She decided that was probably the most logical truth, and she greeted her customer with a smile and a few kind words, hoping that Olive would be happy with her new employee.

February 1871 – Boston

"Mother," Rebecca whispered, as she took her turn sitting at Elizabeth's bedside, wiping away her falling tears. Michaela swallowed the lump in her throat, having said everything she'd needed to say; having heard everything she had needed to hear. She watched as Marjorie stood at the window, looking out, her back as straight as a pin, and her shoulders trembling from trying to keep the pain inside.

Despite never having had a strong relationship with her older sister, Michaela stepped cautiously toward her and gently put her hand on her back, grateful when she didn't make a protest.

"Marjorie?" she asked, her voice shattered and tired. Marjorie felt her sister's hand on her back but didn't flinch away. She merely took a deep breath and composed her thoughts. "Claudette and Maureen…they should be told." Marjorie simply shook her head and let out a scoff, taking a deep breath in preparation for what was to come.

"Why bother? They came by once, Michaela. Once. And that was before the surgery," Marjorie pointed out, her entire posture rigid. Michaela removed her hand and stepped up to stand beside her. She didn't look at her, but she let the falling sun warm her tears. She gripped the sides of her skirt and looked out, wondering if her mother could hear her thoughts.

"We should have gotten here sooner," Michaela said gently. Marjorie shook her head again. "We should have…"

"You shouldn't have left at all, Michaela! Mother needed you here," Marjorie insisted. "You couldn't give her that one thing…could you, Michaela?" Michaela felt as if she'd been stung. She turned to face her sister, but Marjorie wouldn't face her. "All of these years, Mother tried to win your affections, but you couldn't be her daughter, could you? You had to follow in father's footsteps despite how much you embarrassed her. You couldn't give her one moment of peace!" Shocked at Marjorie's accusations, Michaela still couldn't deny the truth in some of it. Yes, she had listened to her father more, but no, she hadn't meant for it to hurt her mother in the way Marjorie was assuming.

"Marjorie, if you had been in my position, you would have understood," Michaela whispered. "I did this for me. Not to hurt mother." Michaela couldn't help but think that she was wrong. Perhaps she had wanted to hurt her just a little bit just to show her a taste of how her disapproval had hurt over the years.

"Of course!" Marjorie exclaimed. "You did everything for you! You're selfish, Michaela! You're selfish…always putting your own feelings before anybody else's!" Michaela's eyes widened at her sister's outburst.

"That's not…" she began, but Marjorie shook her head.

"You might as well have killed her yourself. She gave up after the both of you left! She just started to shut down. To hell with the rest of her children!" Tears were twinkling in her eyes, as her anger escalated rapidly by the second.

"That's enough!" Rebecca sounded, storming over to the window, her tear-filled eyes glistening with frustration. "Mother is gone, and there's no use placing the blame on anyone! There's no use quarreling over it, and…" But she saw the flicker of anger in Marjorie's eyes.

"You!" Marjorie seethed. "You were the good one! You were the one that Mother counted on even more, and you betrayed her by staying out in that…that filthy town!" Rebecca began to tremble with anger.

"I did no such thing! Mother may not have liked my decision, but that's what it was. My decision! I didn't stay there to hurt her, and she knew that. She simply wouldn't accept her opinions not swaying my decisions." Marjorie turned back toward the fading light.

"I sat here day in and day out. I held her hand. I listened to her call for the both of you. Never once did she want me. I listened to her go on and on about how she needed to give Michaela her blessing. As if you cared!" Marjorie exclaimed. "All you cared about was making your life with that ruffian!" Her hand gripped the windowsill, as her knees began to tremble. All of her anger was spewing forth like venom.

"That's enough!" Michaela exclaimed. "We shouldn't be arguing! Not now! This isn't the time!" She took a deep breath, as her heart raced in her chest, and her stomach tied into even tighter knots. She suddenly felt ill, and she swallowed hard, quickly trying to relieve her nausea.

"Michaela is right," Rebecca agreed. Marjorie rolled her eyes.

"Of course she is. She's always right, isn't she? If you had been here, you could have asked Mother that for yourself. But it's too late now. She's gone." She paused for a moment, gripping her mother's journal in her hands. "All she wanted was you, and it looks as if you made her final moments worth living. So thank you for making her happy." She started toward the door, the bitterness in her voice still clinging heavily in the air. "I'm glad somebody could."

She stormed out of the room, and Rebecca and Michaela turned to one another. Silently, they pulled one another into an embrace, and after several moments of silence, Landon appeared somberly from the half-open doors. He had left after having pronounced Elizabeth's death, and now he figured it was best to explain what had happened, even though he felt entirely uncomfortable about the entire situation. After all, he was the one who had suggested the surgery, but even Michaela would know that without the surgery, Elizabeth would have died anyway.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss," Landon said gently, as Michaela and Rebecca broke their embrace. "It's my duty to explain what happened with your mother's condition and the surgery." Michaela nodded, but Rebecca shook her head.

"Do we need to discuss this now? I want to take my sister home. We'll make the arrangements there." Landon swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"Of course. I'm…very sorry." Michaela's eyes met his, and she wanted to speak with him further, but she knew Rebecca was right. She and the baby had been through enough for one day. They'd talk about it tomorrow.

"Come along, Michaela," Rebecca said gently.

"I…I need another moment with her," Michaela said quietly. Rebecca nodded, and she motioned for Landon to follow her. Her heart was heavy, but she knew Michaela still had a lot on her mind. She needed this moment.

Rebecca and Landon left the room, and Michaela slowly crossed the room and sat on the side of Elizabeth's bed, taking her lifeless hand in hers.

"Mother," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to tell you everything. I…I wish we'd had more time." She took a deep breath. "It seems there's never enough. I…I've made so many choices, Mother. They're choices you wouldn't approve of, but they're my own. I love Sully. I've started a new life with him. I've created a life with him." Her hand moved to her stomach. "This child…your grandchild…it means the world to us now. I wanted you to be a part of our life. I wanted you to accept us, but it's over now. I wish…I wish I could have told you under better circumstances. I just wanted you…to know before it was too late." She choked back a sob. "I wanted so much. I was afraid to face you. I was afraid of how you'd react. I never expected to find you like this. I…I miss you. I miss you already, and it hurts so much, Mother! I can't…can't understand."

She tightly squeezed Elizabeth's hand, as if willing the breath back into her lungs and the beat back into her heart. But, she knew it was impossible now.

"You're with Father now. No more pain, Mother. You're with your true love for eternity, and…and that's exactly how it's meant to be. It's how Sully and I are meant to be. Thank you…thank you for giving me life; for giving me your blessing. I'll carry that with me forever. I will remember it, Mother. You may never have known, but I treasured your wishes. I know you wanted me to be happy. You just didn't understand that…what made me happy wasn't what made you happy. Rest now. Just know that I've made the right decisions. He makes me happy." She bent down and kissed her forehead. Standing up, she brushed her tears away again and took her hand from her mother's. "Goodbye."

Sully watched the front entrance doors burst open, as he sat on a bench across the street, and he saw Michaela's sister Marjorie rush out. She held a book in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. Before he could get up to go talk to her, she was hailing a carriage and leaving without one glance in his direction.

His heart leapt into his throat, and he had a terrible feeling that they were too late. Michaela needed him now, and he could feel it. So, he rushed across the street and up the steps of the hospital's entrance, and when he went inside, he was greeted by Rebecca and Landon coming down the hallway. Rebecca was in tears, and Landon's somber face was pointed toward the ground, as his head hung low.

"Mr. Sully," Landon said quietly, shifting uncomfortably, as he and Rebecca stopped.

"Dr. Webber," Sully said quietly. "Where's Michaela?"

"She's…still with her mother," he said quietly. Sully's gaze shifted to Rebecca, who dried the tears from her eyes again.

"Is she…" Rebecca nodded.

"Mother's gone, Sully," she said quietly. "She's gone." Sully exhaled sharply and looked away.

"I'm sorry. I…"

"It's alright. You don't need to say anything. Michaela's the one who needs you now." She took a deep breath, and Sully glanced at Landon.

"I'll stop by tomorrow to discuss the details with Michaela," he said gently. "I think it's best if you take the ladies home and see to it that they rest." Sully nodded.

"I'll take care of everything," he replied, as Landon extended his hand. Sully nodded and shook with Landon, something he never thought he'd do. Landon slowly led Rebecca around the corner, and Sully took a deep breath, preparing himself to see Michaela. What was he supposed to say to a woman that had just lost her mother?

He started down the hall in the direction Rebecca and Landon had come from, and before he knew it, he saw Michaela appear from a set of double doors. He sighed heavily, and when their eyes met, he saw her lip tremble, and he hurried to her right before she collapsed into tears in his arms.

"It's alright," he assured her. "It's alright, Michaela." She let out a sob, causing other hospital guests to turn for a moment and see what the commotion was about, but after a glance from Sully, they knew to mind their own business, and they went along their ways, as he continued to caress her back and tried his best to console her.

"She's really gone," Michaela whispered, finally pulling back and looking into his eyes. Sully reached up to brush her tears away, and he kissed her forehead.

"I know. I know," he whispered. "It's gonna be alright." She shook her head but said nothing, and Sully wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "C'mon. Let's take you home."

Years passed after Michaela's birth, and as I had assumed, no more children came into our lives. I didn't mind, because I had five beautiful daughters, but I often wondered if Josef would have rather had a son.

I watched as each of the girls excelled in their studies. Rebecca was the first to marry, and I was so proud the day she walked down the aisle. Claudette and Maureen were next out of the house, and when Marjorie married Everett, Michaela was the last. I worried, because instead of going to parties and balls, she preferred to stay home and study. What was even more peculiar was that she preferred going with her father to the hospital instead of having tea with her own mother.

I never worried that Michaela wasn't normal, because she was everything I had wanted in a daughter, but unfortunately, her father was her mentor, and I was simply the woman who had carried her for nine months and given birth to her. After that, I felt like an outsider watching my own husband raise our child.

February 1871 – Colorado Springs

"Liddie!" Hank bellowed, as he wiped down the counter after having watered down his whiskey. Liddie appeared from her room with a fake smile plastered on her face.

"What is it, darlin'?" she asked, her slow, seductive drawl coming out quite hoarse.

"It's gonna be a busy night. You take yourself over to the mercantile and get yourself a nice bottle of lilac water." Liddie stared at him for a moment.

"Are ya askin' me to spend your money?"

"No. I'm tellin' ya," he smirked. Liddie shrugged her shoulders and sashayed tiredly up to the bar. Hank slipped a few bills into her hand and winked at her. He moved to pull her close for a kiss, but she pushed at his chest, causing him to grip her wrist. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I…I think I caught somethin'. I don't want ya getting it."

"Ya ain't tryin' to get outta workin' tonight, are ya? You're bound to make us some good money." Liddie sighed heavily.

"Well, you're the boss. Saloon ain't gonna be runnin' if you're sick, now is it?" She smirked and pulled away from him. As she walked away, he gave her a hard pat on the rear, and she rolled her eyes. "Can't ya keep your hands off me for one minute?"

"Well, I would, but you're just too damned pretty." She laughed at his words and shook her head before hurrying off to do as Hank had asked. He returned to cleaning up before the night rush started.

When he looked up again, he saw the Reverend walking down the street, lost in thought. He couldn't pass up the chance to take a jab at him, so he sauntered out onto the porch of the saloon.

"Hey Rev! Can I interest you in a drink?" Timothy looked up sharply.

"What?" Hank laughed.

"Asked if ya wanted a drink." Timothy obviously wasn't amused.

"No thank you, Hank." He started off again, but Hank interrupted.

"Somethin' on your mind ya wanna talk about. Ya know…we could always chat about it over a game of poker." Timothy shook his head.

"I gotta be goin'. I got folks to see." Hank stepped out into the street.

"Heard you might be leavin'."

"Who from?"

"Horace. Said ya got an urgent telegram from…"

"That's private, Hank," he responded. "Now if you'll excuse me." He rushed off in the other direction, and Hank chuckled, tossing his cigar and stamping it into the dirt.

"Just thought I'd offer," he muttered, before returning into the saloon to prepare for the nightly customers.

February 1871 – Boston

"Where on Earth…" Martha threw down her dusting cloth and searched under the dinner table, as the butler walked into the room. "Harrison, did you find them!"

"They aren't in the garden. I keep hearing giggles from the linen closet upstairs, however, so I don't think we have to search much further," he said, trying to keep a sober face. Martha laughed and shook her head, straightening up.

"It's been a long time since we've had little ones in the house. I suppose these children are a bit less subdued than what we're used to." She smiled and shook her head, her cheeks rosy from exhaustion and laughter.

"I'll get them and put them down for a nap."

"Oh, don't you dare! They've only just arrived," Martha said, pitying the children and secretly enjoying their antics. "Let them have their fun. They'll tire themselves out soon enough." Harrison nodded his head.

"I suppose that's true. As soon as Mrs. Quinn arrives home, I'm certain she'll have them whipped into shape." Martha grinned.

"Mrs. Quinn loves children, even if she tries to act the part of a bitter old woman." Harrison nodded, and the moment they heard footsteps scurrying across the marble upstairs, they knew the children had tired of their latest game.

"I miss Pup," Johnny said quietly. "And Wolf. And…"

"I'm sure Brian's taking good care of them!" Mary assured him. "Matthew promised they could stay, remember?" Johnny nodded.

"I know, but…what if they don't remember me when we get back?" His eyes fell downcast, and Mary smiled.

"They will! Don't worry." They headed down the stairs together.

"Well! What are you children up to now?"

"We want to go exploring, Martha," Mary said with a matter-of-fact nod. "Can…may we?" Martha cocked an eyebrow.

"Not alone, you won't. As soon as your parents arrive home, you'll have plenty of people to take you exploring." Both Mary and Johnny sighed impatiently. "But there are fresh cookies in the cookie jar if you'd like…" Before she could finish speaking, the children were rushing off to the kitchen, leaving the house servants in a whirlwind of giggles.

"You know, Martha," Harrison said with a dry chuckle, "I think having these children around will be good for my health. I haven't been rushed around this much in twenty years." They shared a laugh before Harrison hurried off to make sure the children didn't get themselves into any trouble.