Chapter 84

March 1871 – Boston

"What do we need to talk about?" Michaela asked, as she closed herself and Marjorie inside of the parlor alone, while Sully was helping Rebecca prepare lunch with the children. But when Michaela looked at Marjorie after her question, the older woman merely looked down at the journal in her hands. "What is that?" Marjorie took a deep breath and looked up at Michaela with tears in her eyes.

"I don't know why I'm here. I came with the full intention of proving how cruel mother is…I mean…was." She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't know what I'm here to prove anymore. On the ride over here, I started thinking, and maybe that's all I needed." Michaela looked at her curiously, waiting for her to reveal what she was holding. "It's Mother's journal." Michaela slowly sat down on the sofa next to her sister, and she watched her, trying to figure out how long she'd known.

"Where…where did you find it?" Marjorie took a deep breath.

"Mother's room," she admitted, "long before you and Rebecca arrived." Michaela paused, and Marjorie took a shaky breath. "I was going to keep it from you. I didn't think you deserved to read it."

"Why…why did you bring it now then?" Michaela asked, trying not to become upset without hearing all of the answers. Marjorie shook her head.

"I suppose I started thinking about all the reasons I wanted to keep it away from you. I didn't want you to know the things I knew, because all of my life…I've been standing in your shadow." Michaela shook her head.

"Marjorie, that isn't true," Michaela offered, but Marjorie shook her head.

"No! It's true, and I accept that now. I only wish I would have realized it sooner, Michaela. Look at me! My divorce was just finalized, and I got the house. What's the use for it when I'm all alone? My children don't even want to see me!" Seeing her older sister break down like this was surprising to Michaela. Marjorie had never reacted quiet this way in front of her about anything. Michaela's heart broke a little, and she scooted closer to her sister, feeling almost uncomfortable now.

"It's alright, Marjorie," she soothed, but Marjorie shook her head.

"It isn't! I've spent my entire life resenting you. I was relieved when you left, and when you came back just in time to see Mother, I felt as if…you'd done it on purpose just to make me feel worthless!" Michaela's heart stopped for a moment. "It didn't matter how long I sat with her or how hard I tried to get her to see that I had always been there! What have I got left of her? A thousand dollars and some pearls?" She let out a hard breath. "I don't want anything from her. I came here, Michaela, because I realized that holding on to Mother's past for myself isn't hurting her at all. If everyone knew…like she wanted them to know, they would see her for who she really is." Michaela wasn't certain what to say or do, but she knew that Marjorie was still in a lot of pain.

"Surely there can't be anything so terrible in those pages, Marjorie," Michaela said quietly. Marjorie shook her head, laughing dryly.

"You might be surprised." Sucking in a sharp breath. "I suppose we all have our deep, dark secrets, but Mother's…I never expected it from her, but I see who she is now. I see that all she did was cover up her lies and her pain to spare herself from hurting. She was selfish, Michaela! And I've been just as selfish! I don't want to be anything like her! Not anymore." Michaela looked down into her hands that were folded in her lap.

"Marjorie," she said softly. "Mother did love us…"

"Spare me, Michaela. I know. I know that she loved all of us. But that doesn't take away from my reasons for hating her."

"You can't mean that." Marjorie stopped and shook her head. She had confused anger and hate for her entire life. She'd always said those words when she hadn't gotten her way. What was the point of acting like a child now? She was a grown woman. She was free from a lifetime of grief and a marriage that had felt more like a prison sentence.

"I don't know what I mean or how I feel, but I'm so angry with her! I'm angry that she left before I could truly tell her how much she hurt me growing up." She sighed in frustration. "Maybe she didn't mean to, but that doesn't change the way I feel, Michaela! And if I kept this journal to myself, I'd be no better than her! In fact, I'd be worse! She had her reasons for hiding her secrets, and mine were only selfish and petty. This is in your hands now. I don't want it anymore. I've read enough." She placed the journal in Michaela's hands, and Michaela looked down at the leather binding, wondering what horrible secrets her mother had kept. Her mind was reeling, and she was terrified of what might be contained within those pages.

"Thank you for…for sharing this with me," Michaela said slowly. "I'm glad you brought it to me."

"I'm not certain if you'll feel the same after you've read it." She shook her head. "Mother certainly has a way with words, but no matter how eloquently she writes, it doesn't make up for what she's done."

"What…"

"I'll let you read it for yourself," Marjorie said, shaking her head. "I can't stay any longer."

"Why not?" Michaela asked. Marjorie glanced at her. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Even though we've never been close…we're still sisters, and I think we have a lot to talk about." Marjorie shook her head.

"Why? Why do you even want to talk to me? What I said…well, I was angry! I'm still angry, because you left. I guess…"

"Yes?" Michaela asked. Marjorie didn't say anything. "Marjorie, we are sisters, and it's natural for us to be upset with one another from time to time. We've never been close, but I'm here now. I'd like to try."

"Why? After everything…"

"Because even though we may not see eye to eye most of the time, I'd like to get to know you better. If you're upset with me, tell me all of the reasons why, and we'll work them out." Marjorie shook her head.

"What's the point?" she asked. "It's never that simple?" Michaela smiled a little and shook her head.

"Maybe not, but it's a start, isn't it?" Marjorie nodded, and she took a deep breath.

"I think Rebecca should be here too." Michaela stood slowly.

"Alright. I'll go get her, but after we're through, there's something I need to tell you about." Michaela started for the door, but Marjorie spoke up.

"Then tell me now."

Warm rays from the sun had traveled slowly across the floor through the curtains, and Sylvia had watched them tiredly, waiting for Timothy to arrive. Her heart was heavy, making the heavy, sinking feeling in her chest all the more worse. She was terrified of living the rest of her life in this bed, telling time by the ticking of the clock and the way the sunlight traveled across her room.

William had come by earlier that morning to drain some fluid from her lungs, and that had left her tired and sore. Gabby had read to her, though she could see how upset her little girl was. She hated that Gabby had to watch her once vivacious, beautiful mother wither away like an old carcass.

After Timothy had arrived, they hadn't talked much, and they'd ate together in silence. They had offered for Gabby to join them, but she chose to eat in her room, shrugging off her mother's worry and saying she wanted to pretend she was making dinner for her party guests. Sylvia knew her daughter very well, and she knew that she was only trying to hide her pain. She only wished she were able to comfort her, but instead of worrying about something she could do nothing about until she regained her strength, she looked over at Timothy.

"Timothy, thank you for lunch," Sylvia said with a smile, as she placed her tray aside.

"I saw the little café on the way here, and I couldn't resist. It isn't everyday somebody like me gets to eat in a fancy Boston café." Sylvia smiled.

"And do you approve?" Timothy pondered the question for a moment before smiling.

"Well, it was good, but it sure isn't like Miss Grace's food back home." Sylvia smiled.

"You never had a taste for the finer things," Sylvia teased. Timothy chuckled, and he shook his head. He watched her, as her smile faded, and she closed her eyes. "You were always so protective of me."

"As I recall, you needed protectin'," he laughed. Sylvia grinned. "You're the one that always got into trouble before I did."

"I couldn't help it, and you know it. I was overzealous."

"Just a little," he remarked. He took her hand in his, and it was icy. She pulled away.

"Timothy…" She took a heavy, deep breath. "We're past all of that." He nodded.

"I know. I've moved on. Sort of." Sylvia furrowed her brows.

"Sort of?"

"Well, it's a complicated story." Sylvia shrugged.

"I have plenty of time," she replied knowingly. "Tell me about her." She watched him in intrigue.

"Well, she's from Boston." She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you certainly work fast!" she laughed. Timothy shook her head.

"No, no. It isn't like that. We met in Colorado Springs. She moved there, and she became a teacher at the school. We took turns teaching the children. Because I was needed to speak with folks in the mornings, I took over for her at lunchtime. It really worked out quite well, and she was very good with the children."

"When do you get to the part where you tell what you love about her." Timothy was a little caught off guard, and she smiled. "I knew it. Now, as I said before…tell me about her." Timothy shook his head. Where should he start?

"She's beautiful…intelligent…wonderful with children. She has a daughter." Sylvia frowned a little but tried to hide it. "I've always wanted a family, and when I met Rebecca, I saw that family slowly coming together. Her little girl…well, we get along fine."

"So what went wrong? What'd you do?" she asked.

"What makes you think…"

"I know you, Timothy. Even if our friendship is from a life you don't care to think about, I still know you." He shook his head.

"Well, I didn't defend her sister." Sylvia smiled a little. "It isn't that simple, Sylvia. Her sister…well, she became pregnant out of wedlock." Raising an eyebrow, Sylvia nodded.

"I see," Sylvia said quietly. "And because you're the town's Reverend, you couldn't support her?"

"Exactly," Timothy responded. "I've always tried to take the side of the person who needed defending, but in this case…"

"In this case, you couldn't." He shook his head. "And that upset Rebecca, so she…"

"Went to Boston to visit her mother. Turns out, her mother died, and she's still here. God knows if she's coming back." Sylvia shook her head.

"I don't blame her," she declared, stunning Timothy, as she sat up a little in the bed.

"What?"

"You…you acted like a complete jerk, Timothy," she scalded. Raising an eyebrow, he gaped at her feistiness. She still had it in her. "You certainly have to think of your congregation, but at the same time, you can't let one of your flock get trampled by the rest. You of all people should know what it's like to have made a decision that others can't live with." She shook her head. "Timothy, I thought you could look past the choices people have made. She has committed no crime, has she?"

"Sylvia!" he exclaimed, stumbling for the words. "Having a child out of wedlock—"

"Is not a crime, the last time I checked." She shook her head. "If you're going to judge her, then you should certainly judge me, because I too was pregnant out of wedlock."

"You were…well…Sylvia…that's different."

"How so? Is she engaged?" Timothy nodded.

"Well…yes."

"So was I. What makes us different?" Timothy couldn't come up with an answer quick enough for her. "Is it because of…" She suddenly realized what was going on. "Timothy, how would you have felt about the situation if…if you were Gabby's father?" Timothy froze for a moment.

"That's beside the point, Sylvia. I'm not her father."

"But if you were!" She took a deep breath. "If you were her father, your life would have turned out differently, Timothy. You wouldn't have become a Reverend. You would have spent your life working meaningless jobs trying to pay for a child that you had never wanted in the first place. You would have married a woman you didn't love to stop another man from raising your child, and you…you probably would have continued to steal and cheat and gamble." He saw tears in her eyes, and he wasn't sure what to say.

"Sylvia, I…"

"I'm sorry, Timothy. I shouldn't have…"

"It's alright. Reliving the past is…"

"No!" she said, shaking her head. "You were my best friend. You deserve to know the truth." Timothy shook his head, confusion settling in, as he took her trembling hand in his. Her skin was so white that he could see the blue veins contrasting against it. He could feel her pulse racing, and he was terrified that she was making herself worse. "You need to know the truth."

"What truth? Sylvia, I don't understand." He watched, as she took a labored breath and brushed her own tears away. She let his hand go and clasped her hands in her lap nervously. "You're scarin' me, Sylvia. What's wrong?"

"There's a lot you won't understand."

"Just tell me, Sylvia. Whatever it is—"

"I lied to you, Timothy. I've been lying all these years. She's your daughter, Timothy. Gabby's yours."

"Pregnant?" Marjorie asked, slowly standing up and turning to face her sister. Michaela swallowed hard, uncertain of what to do, say, or even where to look. But when she looked up into Marjorie's eyes, she didn't see the bitter, angry look that Claudette had possessed. Instead, she saw exhaustion and sorrow. "Michaela…when…"

"I became pregnant in December. The baby's due in September." Marjorie shook her head. Michaela watched her, wondering how she would react. She wasn't certain if she could expect a harsh response like she had gotten from Claudette, but at least in this case, she'd told her herself.

"I…I don't know what to say," she admitted. "I never expected this…not from you." She shook her head. "Michaela, why…why did you…" For a moment, she could hear Elizabeth in her own voice.

"There are a lot of reasons," Michaela said softly, standing up to face her sister. "We made a choice that was right for us at that moment, and we love each other very much. I know he would never hurt me, Marjorie. You should know me at least well enough to know that I would never…well…not without knowing I could trust him with my heart and know he wouldn't break it." Marjorie took a deep breath. There had been times in her life when she'd thought the same thing about Everett. He'd been so caring at first, but after that ring was on her finger and those vows were spoken, it had changed.

"Did Mother know?" She nodded.

"I told her…right before." She brushed a tear away. "Rebecca knows as well. She's known for a while. Claudette…she found out this afternoon." Marjorie looked into Michaela's eyes.

"How did…how did she respond?"

"Not very well. I thought I would tell you before word got around to you." Marjorie cleared her throat. What was she supposed to say to Michaela? She could shut her out just as easily as she had when they'd arrived in Boston, but that was no good. She didn't feel anger toward her sister for this. Pity, maybe. She knew that choosing to go through a pregnancy without being married was something that took a lot of courage.

She'd seen girls at her finishing school go through it, though they had been kicked out when they couldn't hide it anymore. Being ostracized by the public was something that she knew well, because according to those around her, she couldn't keep a man or her own children happy. She couldn't imagine what a struggle Michaela still had to go through.

"I never thought you would be the one to…to completely go against what we've been taught." Michaela looked down, feeling as if she was being lectured by her mother. "It must have taken a lot of courage to do something like that." Michaela looked back up into her eyes. "Michaela, when I was pregnant with each of my girls, not even my husband supported me."

"Marjorie?" She shook her head

"When I was a little girl, I thought my handsome prince charming would come up on his white horse and whisk me away. When things weren't the way I'd expected after we got married, I thought that giving him a child would bring us closer. I admit that I didn't even want the children, when I found out that it wouldn't make him love me any more. Of course I loved them, but I almost resented them, because he spent more time with them than he did with me. It was the most difficult time I'd ever gone through, and…and the support I needed the most was Everett's. He didn't give me that." She closed her eyes. "I hope you never have to understand what that feels like."

"Sully…Sully's there for me."

"And you think he'll stick around?" Michaela nodded.

"I know him. He'd never leave." Marjorie smiled a little.

"That's what I thought about Everett." She sighed heavily, feeling the memories continue to flood back to her as if they'd all happened yesterday. "The only thing Everett did do when I was pregnant was stop beating me. He was determined to have a son, but unfortunately, I only gave him daughters. I suppose after both girls were born, he decided to start trying more often with other women. I was worthless to him. To them." Michaela slowly reached out for her sister's hand, and she was relieved when Marjorie didn't pull away. "Michaela, you be certain that this is what you want. I know doctors who can…who can…make it better for you." Michaela knew what she was speaking of.

"No! I won't even consider it, Marjorie. Sully and I love one another and this baby. We're a family with Johnny." Marjorie nodded, hearing the certainty in her sister's words.

"When will you be married?"

"In May. I'd…like for you to come. We'll be married in Colorado Springs." Marjorie sighed quietly.

"I'm not certain if I could go." Michaela took a step toward her older sister.

"I know you don't approve." Marjorie shook her head.

"It isn't that. I'm disappointed, yes, but I've done things in my life that I'm not proud of…worse things. I refuse to be that bitter woman that sits alone in her big, empty house. I refuse to let everything that's gone wrong hurt me anymore. I want to be better, Michaela." Michaela smiled a little.

"Adapting to something new in your life is always a long process," she said quietly. "I want to be sisters, Marjorie. Friends, if it's possible. I'm willing if you are." Marjorie smiled and nodded her head.

"I didn't even come here with those intentions. I didn't even plan to talk to you." She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for the things I said. It wasn't easy for me growing up." Michaela frowned and nodded.

"It wasn't easy for any of us. Part of the reason I went with father most of the time was to avoid getting teased at home." Marjorie smiled a little.

"I was good at teasing, wasn't I?" Michaela laughed a little.

"You were the best!" she grinned. Marjorie smiled, feeling better for the first time that day.

"I'm sorry for the past, Michaela." Michaela nodded.

"So am I." She squeezed Marjorie's hand, and they both took a deep breath.

"I'm willing to try to be sisters…and friends."

After being relieved from their kitchen duties by Sully, Johnny and Mary sat on the steps of the back stairway.

"What do you want to do?" Mary asked after several minutes of silence.

"We could play Indians," Johnny suggested. Mary made a face.

"I'm tired of that game. We could play…"

"I ain't playin' house," Johnny insisted. Mary stuck her tongue out at him behind his back. "We could go explorin'."

"Exploring?" Mary asked with wide eyes. Johnny nodded his head.

"Sure. Maybe there's some secret passages here or somethin'." Mary's eyes widened a little further.

"I have a better idea!"

"What's that?" Johnny asked curiously.

"You'll see!" Mary exclaimed, standing up and rushing up the stairs. Johnny watched her for a moment before scrambling up behind her. They snuck up to the second floor and then up the stairs that led to the lonely attic. It was a huge attic, full of dusty old trunks and unmarked crates piled to the ceiling.

"Wonder what's in all these boxes," Johnny said quietly.

"I don't know," Mary whispered. "I've never come up here, but I've always wanted to." Johnny looked at her, noticing how she stuck the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she thought hard about what she wanted to explore first.

"Hey, look at this!" he said, moving to pull back a large, white sheet, revealing a broken old piano.

"Wow," Mary said quietly. "I wonder how long this has been here." Johnny tapped his finger upon the middle C, and no sound came out. He shook his head.

"Don't work."

"Well, maybe you have to use your imagination," she giggled. "Make the music up in your head." Johnny raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes, pushing him to the side, as her tiny fingers began to work silently over the keys, only managing to make a few short clicking sounds. "The strings may be broken, but you can still make music." Johnny shook his head.

"Girls." She didn't hear him, however, because her eyes were mesmerized by the yellowish-white keys that her fingers struck with each movement. There was something so relaxing about it.

"Hey, Mary! C'mere. Look at this," Johnny called, opening up one of the old, dusty trunks. Mary hurried over to see what Johnny had found. "Look at all these books." Mary's eyes lit up.

"Oh neat!" she exclaimed. "These are diaries! I wonder who wrote them?" She picked up one in her hand and ran her fingers over the spine. She slowly flipped open the cover, and she squinted in the dim light that filtered through vents in the side of the wall. "Diary of Michaela Quinn. Age 10." She giggled. It was hard to picture her Aunt Michaela being a little girl.

"My ma's diary," he said with a laugh. "I wonder what she wrote about?" He went to read the first page, but Mary slapped his hand. "Hey! What's the idea?"

"Diaries are private!"

"What's the big deal? She probably don't even remember writin' it." Mary put her hands on her hips.

"It's still not right." Mary felt a chill rush over her, and she shivered, gently crossing her arms and rubbing them.

"What's wrong? You cold or somethin'?" Johnny asked, taking off his jacket and putting it over her shoulders. Mary looked around.

"Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Johnny shook his head.

"There's no such thing." Mary frowned.

"Sometimes I think there's a ghost up here…walking around when everybody's sleeping." Johnny shook his head.

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Mary, so stop scarin' yourself."

"How do you know?" Johnny rolled his eyes.

"'Cause I do, that's how." Mary gave him a disbelieving look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll prove it."

"Prove it?" Johnny nodded.

"Yep. Tonight, after the grownups go to bed, we'll meet in the hallway and come up here. Don't forget to bring your lantern." Mary shivered.

"I don't know, Johnny…"

"Ya scared?" he teased. She glared at him. "Scared a ghost is gonna get ya?"

"No!" she defended. "You said there's no such thing." He grinned.

"Don't worry. Even if there was…I'd protect ya."

Michaela stepped out of the parlor, after Rebecca had come in to talk with her sister. She had started feeling nauseous, so she'd excused herself to get a drink of water. But when she entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see Sully standing over the stove and stirring the soup.

"Smells delicious," she said with a smile, causing him to turn quickly. He smiled at her, but he immediately frowned, seeing evidence that she had been crying.

"You ok?"

"Yes. It's just been an emotional day," she said, shrugging her shoulders. She took a few steps toward him, and then he saw her shoulders fall. He quickly moved over to her, helping her to the table.

"Here. Sit down. Can I get ya anything?"

"Water," she said simply. She sat down, and he moved to the counter, picking up a pitcher of water. Once he handed her a fresh glass, she drank the cool liquid down, feeling it sooth her scratchy throat.

"Better?" She nodded.

"Thank you, Sully." Sully knelt down on the floor in front of her. "I'm fine. I promise." She shook her head. "I know. I know. You'll still worry about me until you know for certain." She grinned and gently caressed his cheek with her fingertips. "I think everything's going to be alright. I just need a few moments." He studied her face, and he saw relief and discomfort there at the same time.

"Marjorie…does she know?" Michaela nodded.

"She's disappointed, but she wants to make an effort. I have to let her try, Sully. She's my sister, and I want her to realize that I'm all grown up now. I'm completely, truly in love, and I have the best family anybody could ask for." Sully grinned.

"I'm glad ya feel that way," he declared. "I just hope we can convince the rest of your family to…"

"Accept this? I don't think that's possible, Sully. Claudette and Maureen have been known to think alike in many situations, and unfortunately, they have the sharpest tongues that any women in this family have ever possessed." Sully raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know about that. I heard ya sling a few words Claudette's way today that could make a cowboy blush." Michaela shook her head, rolling her eyes slightly, and Sully leaned up, claiming her mouth in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, he put his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze.

"Marjorie gave us Mother's journal," Michaela said quietly. Sully nodded.

"That's a good thing, right?" Michaela nodded slowly.

"She's been hiding it," she explained, "and from the way she speaks about it, I'm not sure I even want to read it." Sully furrowed his brows.

"'Cause you're afraid of what ya might read?" Michaela nodded. "Journals are s'posed to be private, but in this case, your ma wants ya to read it. There must be somethin' in there she wants ya to know." Michaela shook her head.

"I feel like…if I read it, I'll be saying goodbye to a completely different woman. Mother's gone, Sully. There's still so much to deal with before we go home to Colorado, and I don't know what good could come from this." Sully raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ya want to know the things your ma wrote down for ya?" Michaela looked down for a moment, thinking about her options.

"A part of me needs to know. Another part wishes she'd never made mention of it." Sully stood and moved behind Michaela's chair, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently rubbing them.

"Ya don't have to read it, ya know. Not if you really don't want to"

"I know," Michaela replied stiffly, as she closed her eyes, relaxing under his touch. "I suppose I'll figure out what to do when the time is right."

"You could always let Rebecca read it first." Michaela nodded, deciding that she didn't want to think about it right now.

"I'm feeling much better, Sully. Thank you," she said softly, standing and turning to face him. "I should go back in there before they wonder where I've disappeared to." Sully nodded, and he pulled her in for a kiss.

"Alright. I'll let ya know when lunch's ready."

"You'd better. A pregnant lady can get very cranky if she doesn't get to eat." Sully chuckled and kissed her once again.

"I'll keep that in mind." Michaela winked at him before turning around and returning to the parlor to speak with her sisters.

March 1871 – Colorado Springs

His finely polished black shoes clicked against the creaking wooden floorboards, as he paced the room that stunk of impending death. Jake's infected arm had begun to turn an odd shade of blue, and he'd lost most of his function in it. It wasn't as if he was conscious, however, because his pale face was still, despite the constant tremors that flooded through him. Doc Cassidy figured it was a mixture of the delirium tremors and the shock he'd gone into after losing so much blood.

Nobody had come by to sit with the mayor in his final hours, which the doctor found extremely odd. But, he couldn't blame them, considering the epidemic that was about to kill another one of their townspeople. Doc Cassidy knew that when Dr. Quinn arrived, her return would be a welcome one indeed, despite her situation. The town was quickly turning against him, and he had to keep them at bay until the doctor arrived. Then he could leave and not have to look at the miserable little town that he'd been able to do very little for.

"Abagail." Doc Cassidy turned to look at the dying man again. His last word was the name of some woman. It figured. He had probably been holding onto her in his heart, but she obviously hadn't chosen him. He was alone.

Jake's body was shutting down. He could see. He could see her reaching for him. She was so beautiful. Either it was Abagail or a trick of the light, but either way, it was a comfort for him to know that he would be in no more pain. Life was the painful way to get to eternity, and now he could spend it with her, where he was supposed to be.

He closed his eyes, but he could see her face. He could feel her presence surrounding him. That's what he wanted. It was what he needed. She'd been his reason for living, and when she'd gone, he had had no purpose but to wander aimlessly, waiting for the release into her open arms. Sully hadn't wanted her. She was free now. Now he was too.

The ticking of the clock on the wall was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. It was painful, and he took a breath, feeling as if he was breathing in dust.

"Abagail. Don't leave me. Don't." He was reaching for her, and the pain was unbearable. "Please don't leave. Not for him. I need you here." Tears stung his eyes, but he didn't dare to open them. "Don't leave me."

Slowly, the doctor checked Jake's pulse. It was slowing. Where was the reverend when he was needed? Suddenly, Jake stopped moving. His breathing became shallower. Doc Cassidy pulled out his stethoscope, and listened to his decreasing heart rate.

"Don't leave," Jake begged, as if he were a child reaching for his mother. "Stay with me." Doc Cassidy shook his head. He waited, as the clock ticked the last few seconds of the miserable man's life away, and when all was silent, he put his stethoscope away.

"Time of death, 12:35," Doc Cassidy said, covering Jake Slicker's lifeless body with the bed sheet. He'd taken his last breath, and that was that. There was no more suffering for him, but judging from the talk around town, Doc Cassidy assumed that he'd caused a lot of suffering too.

He made a mental note to have the blacksmith prepare yet another coffin. Luckily, the replacement reverend was being kind enough to make each ceremony special, despite not knowing any of the departed.

He closed his medical bag and left the room, deciding to check on yet another patient he couldn't help.

When Doc Cassidy walked into Olive's room, he saw Tommy sleeping in a chair near her bed. Immediately alarmed, he tapped on Tommy's shoulder.

"Just what do you think you're doing in here?" Tommy woke abruptly. "You should be in bed resting."

"I didn't want her to be alone," Tommy insisted.

"So you'd risk your own health?" Tommy said nothing. "I suggest you go back to your room before you end up like the Mayor." Tommy scratched his head, thinking about the scum that had hurt his daughter years ago.

"What happened to Jake?" Doc Cassidy looked at him.

"He just passed." Tommy sat up a little, raising his eyebrows.

"Dead?" he asked, shaking his head. He couldn't honestly say it upset him. "The rest of the folks should know."

"Well, I'll tell them. You go back to bed, and I'll bring you something for the pain."

"I ain't in pain. You just take care of her," Tommy insisted. "I don't wanna leave." A knock came to the door, and Doc Cassidy grumbled.

"This isn't grand central station! There is an epidemic going on, and…"

"And, I suggest ya keep doin' your job, Doc," Kid Cole pointed out, as he stepped in. "Just wanted to let your patient here know that Daniel's still out lookin' for Carrie." Tommy shook his head.

"If I know her as well as I think I do, she's probably off where nobody can find her, and she won't be back 'til she wants to be." He shook his head.

"I'm gonna ride back out and look for 'em. I'm sure they'll be back soon."

"Thanks Sheriff," Tommy said quietly. Just as Kid Cole was about to head back out, Tommy called out to them. "Oh, Sheriff?"

"Hmm?"

"Might as well let the other folks know…"

"Know what?"

"Doc Cassidy?" Tommy felt it was the doctor's place. After all, he'd been the one to watch Jake die. Doc Cassidy sighed and turned abruptly.

"Tell them they should start looking for a new mayor, because the one they have is dead." A little taken aback, Kid Cole merely tipped his hat, gave Doc Cassidy a reproachful glance, and headed out to continue the search for Carrie.

Daniel hadn't expected to sleep at all that afternoon. But after the long ride and search, he'd been happy to have comfortable sleeping arrangements. He'd been impressed with how quickly they'd constructed the teepee just for him, and he felt honored. Cloud Dancing had made him something to drink to warm his stomach, and he'd fallen fast asleep. But when dreams of Carrie worried him, he woke and left the teepee, heading back over to the medicine man's.

"I want to sit with her in case she wakes up," Daniel pleaded. "It's early yet, and I don't want to spend the day away from her. Not when I've been looking for her."

"Perhaps your strength will help her to fight," Cloud Dancing suggested. "She is tough."

"The toughest woman I know," Daniel said with a nod.

"You love her?"

"Very much," Daniel replied with a nod. Cloud Dancing smiled.

"Good. Let her feel that love, and she will be stronger." He motioned for Snow Bird to follow, and they left the teepee together. Daniel slowly settled down next to Carrie, and he took her hand in his, feeling the locket still pressed firmly there.

"You gotta wake up, Carrie. It ain't the same without ya." He shook his head. "I promise ya…Jake Slicker is gonna pay for what he did." He kissed her hand softly. "If it weren't for you meanin' so much to me, I'd probably kill him right off. But doin' that wouldn't help things. I know it. So all you gotta do is get stronger and wake up. I know ya can." He brushed the hair from her forehead and swallowed hard. "We gotta get ya home so you can see your ma. I know you're gonna be surprised. I was too, but I haven't had much time to think about it. I needed to find you."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Daniel sighed softly. His hand squeezed hers, and to his surprise, she squeezed his back. Smiling with relief, he caressed her pale cheek with his hand.

"Carrie?" Carrie slowly opened her eyes, and before he knew it, he saw a weak smile appearing on her face.

"Danny Boy?" she asked. Daniel let out a small laugh, choking back the tears.

"Oh no. Don't you start callin' me that now." Carrie winced in pain, but she smiled a little after ward.

"You know you like it," she teased.

"Good to see ya still got a sense of humor." Carrie sighed softly. "Cloud Dancin' says ya got a fever."

"I can feel that," she said quietly. She closed her eyes and slowly stretched her sore muscles. When she clenched her fists, she furrowed her brows. "What…what's that?" She slowly opened her hand to find the locket lying there. She gasped a little, thinking that perhaps it had come off, and when she brought her hand to her neck, she felt hers still in place. "What…how did I…"

"Your ma asked me to give it to ya," he said gently. Carrie shook her head.

"I'm dreamin'. My ma's dead." She shook her head. "She's dead. Died a long time ago. Already buried her. I'm dreamin'."

"Carrie…Carrie listen to me."

"No! You're lyin'. You're lyin' to me! Where'd ya get this?"

"She gave it to me, Carrie. Please, please calm down," he said quietly. "I gotta explain."

"There's nothin' to explain. My ma's dead! She's dead, Daniel!" Daniel shook his head.

"I know it ain't easy to believe right now, Carrie, but your ma is alive. She's real sick, and she asked me to give ya this. She…she needs ya, Carrie. She needs ya to be strong, 'cause she might not make it." Carrie shook her head, trying to get away from him.

"Shut up!" she cried. "Shut up! I hate you! You're a liar!" Cloud Dancing had heard her fit, and he rushed in, pushing Daniel to the side and checking her fever.

"She is growing worse."

"I didn't mean to…" Daniel said, fear and guilt gripping his heart. "Carrie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Get out. Get out!" she begged, tears streaming down her face. She clutched the locket so hard in her hands that it brought blood. She didn't care.

"You must stay calm," Cloud Dancing demanded. "I will brew you some more tea."

"I don't want it," she cried. "I don't…" Her fever spiked again, 'causing her to moan in discomfort, and all Daniel could do was sit and watch her grow weaker by the moment, as all hope for her seeing her mother again began to fade away.