Chapter 86

March 1871 – Colorado Springs

Carrie opened her eyes, feeling the pain rising up in her body and making her want to scream out. But she couldn't. Something comforting was holding her back, and when she realized what it was, she looked down and saw a hand firmly clasped in hers, silently consoling her. She frowned, looking at the owner of that hand. Daniel.

Tears started to well up in her eyes, as she remembered the terrible things she'd said to him yesterday. Or was it the terrible things he'd said to her? Her mother was alive? No. It couldn't be. Her father would have told her, wouldn't he?

She craned her neck, trying to stretch her sore muscles, but that only made the pain worse.

"Your fever has broken," came that voice again. Carrie squinted into the dim light in the teepee, and she saw Cloud Dancing sitting nearby. "Your friend fell asleep here last night. He would not leave your side." Carrie slowly pried her hand from Daniel's, finding the locket still in her hand. She smiled sadly and decided not to think about it. Her pain-filled eyes met the wise Indian's.

"Can I go home now?"

"I've tied the litter to your horse. You must seek a doctor when you return to town." Carrie nodded.

"Don't think that'll be a problem," she replied. She winced in pain, and she lay back, feeling Daniel starting to stir beside her. Cloud Dancing only smiled.

"I will give you both some time alone." With that, he was gone, and Carrie wasn't certain what to say to Daniel when he woke.

She closed her eyes, feeling the pain in her abdomen increasing. She gasped and squeezed the blanket underneath her. She felt as if she couldn't breathe for a moment, and she groaned in pain.

Waking to her muffled cries of pain, Daniel sat up quickly, looking down at her.

"Carrie? You ok?" Carrie grimaced but nodded her head.

"I'm fine. I wanna go home."

"Alright," Daniel said with a nod, rubbing his tired eyes. "We'll go. Maybe we'll get back in time to see her." Carrie's eyes clouded over, and she tensed, trying not to let him upset her. It wasn't his fault, really, but he needed to stop saying those things. He needed to stop telling her things that he didn't understand. He was wrong. Her mother was dead.

"Who?"

"Your ma." Carrie glared at him.

"My mother's dead."

"You want to see her, Carrie."

"Who!" she asked angrily. "You're gonna tell me that…that my ma's been under my nose the whole time, huh? You're gonna tell me that my pa lied to me? That…that the woman I thought was dead has been living a lie…?"

"Carrie," Daniel said quietly. "I don't know all that your pa told ya about your ma, but…but the lady he married wasn't your real ma." She shook her head, not wanting to accept these things that he was saying to her. He was out of his mind. She had thought she could trust him.

"Shut up, Daniel!" she yelled, the pain intensifying by the second. "Why are ya doin' this?" Daniel shook his head. "Why are you tryin' to hurt me?" She searched his eyes, and he was at a loss.

"That's not what I'm…"

"Yes it is! You're tryin' to hurt me! I don't believe you!" She sucked in a sharp breath, and Daniel shook his head. She wanted to slap him, but simply moving her arm made her body ache.

"I don't know what else to say, Carrie. I don't wanna hurt you. But she asked me. She's real sick with the Diphtheria, and she might not even be alive when we get back to town." Carrie shook her head.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Just stop!" Carrie tried to turn over, but the pain was too great. She lay there, covering her face with her hands, as he stared down at her. He saw that he was the one hurting her more than Jake had hurt her by causing the wound. He was hurting her with the one thing she'd wanted since she was a little girl. Her mother. Now he was giving her that and ripping it away from her at the same time.

"Carrie, I'm sorry." He started to get up. "I wish I could tell ya that I was lyin' to spare ya the pain. But I'm not lyin'. She wanted me to tell ya. Carrie, your ma is Olive." Carrie lay there, the tears in her eyes spilling over without restraint.

"What?" Her voice sounded strangled in her throat, and she shook her head, trying to make sense out of it all. "You…"

"She wanted me to give ya the locket. She—"

"Why? Why, Daniel?"

"She's dyin', Carrie. She might not make it 'til we get back to town. I know she wants to see ya."

"Olive?" she asked, her voice quaking with anger, fear, concern, and so many other emotions. Her head was spinning, and she felt as if she were going to be sick.

"I'm sure she had her reasons, Carrie. I'm sure of it…" Carrie shook her head, letting out a choked sob.

"It can't be her. It can't be, Daniel!" she exclaimed. At just that moment, she screamed out in pain and clutched her stomach. Daniel stumbled backward, and Cloud Dancing rushed in, seeing the blood soaking through the bandage.

"You have ruptured the stitches," he said sternly. "You must lie still, or you will not heal." Carrie seemed to calm down, but Daniel knew she was in agony on the inside. His hand reached for hers, and she didn't pull away.

"How long have you known?" she asked, shivering.

"Just found out. I swear, Carrie. I think she thought it'd be easier on ya if ya never knew. She wanted ya to have a better life, darlin'."

"Never knew?" she asked. "Daniel, I've spent my entire life missin' my ma. Now I find out she's here, and…and she's dyin'?" Daniel looked to Cloud Dancing, who seemed very keen on staying out of the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Carrie," he said quietly. "She wanted me to tell ya." Tears spilled over again, and he reached out, brushing them away.

"I dreamed about her," she whispered, closing her eyes. Daniel furrowed his brows.

"Olive?"

"I guess," she said quietly. "I dreamed about my ma last night. She…she didn't have a face. If she did, I couldn't see it. I was running toward her, and she…she was runnin' away." She sighed softly. "I guess that's all she's ever done." Daniel frowned sadly, and he squeezed her hand. "It's not your fault. I just…"

"You're hurtin'," he whispered gently, "I know." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Rest now. We'll head out soon." She didn't move, but when her eyes closed and her grip loosened on his hand, he decided to get out and stretch his legs.

"Don't worry. I will watch over her," Cloud Dancing assured him. Daniel's eyes met his for a brief moment before he nodded.

"Thank you for everything. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd lost her." Cloud Dancing smiled warmly.

"It is hard to think about life without the ones we love, but what we must understand is that there is always a purpose, and life will always go on." Daniel thought about the medicine man's words for a moment, soaking them in. He then watched Carrie for a moment longer before leaving the teepee and preparing for the journey home.

March 1871 – Boston

Michaela entered the dining room after having washed up for the morning. Her stomach was growling, and she was eager to eat something, because she hadn't felt this good in the morning for a while.

She couldn't help but smile and blush at the same time, when she saw Sully sitting down and pouring glasses of juice for the children. Just the sight of him made her cheeks warm, and she couldn't help it.

"Good morning," she said quietly, as she watched him look up, his eyes flickering with memories of last night.

"Mornin'," he said with a grin. "Sleep ok?"

"Wonderfully," she remarked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Mornin' Ma!" Johnny said with a grin.

"Good morning," Michaela grinned. "You children are up early this morning."

"It's eleven, Ma. Ya slept in," Johnny pointed out. Michaela glanced at the clock and flushed again. She'd been sleeping so well that she hadn't realized the time when she'd woken up.

"It's alright. It's been a while since she's got to sleep in like that," Sully said with a smile, standing up and pulling the chair out for her. Michaela grinned and sat down, as he pushed the chair forward. When Sully sat back down, Michaela took a sip of juice, and she looked at Mary.

"Is your mother awake yet?" Mary shook her head.

"She hasn't come down, Aunt Michaela. Maybe she's feeling bad. You could go check on her." Michaela frowned, and she nodded her head, deciding to put her hunger aside for a few minutes longer.

"Yes. I think I will." Sully watched Michaela leave, and when she started up the stairs, he turned back to keep the children company.

Michaela headed down the hallway once she reached the upstairs, and she stopped abruptly outside of Rebecca's bedroom. Slowly tapping on the door with her knuckles, she listened for any sign of her sister moving around inside.

"Rebecca? Rebecca, it's Michaela. May I come in?" When she didn't receive a response, worry quickly settled into the pit of Michaela's stomach. Swallowing hard, she turned the knob to Rebecca's door, opened it up, and stepped inside. When she saw that Rebecca's bed was all made up, she wondered where she could have gone so early without anyone having heard her. But what she saw next explained everything.

Stepping toward the bed, Michaela saw their mother's journal lying on the pillow, opened and turned over. She wondered what could have upset Rebecca enough to have slipped out without seeing anyone that morning. She had seemed a little distant the night before when Mary had had her nightmare, but now Michaela knew for certain that something hadn't been right.

Perhaps what Marjorie said had been true. Perhaps their mother's journal had been more upsetting than anyone had imagined.

Michaela slowly sat down on the edge of Rebecca's bed, picking the book up into her hands. She was trembling, and she didn't even know why. Perhaps an explanation for Rebecca's behavior and unnoticed leave would lie within the pages of their mother's journal. The page her eyes scanned across was halfway through the book, and Michaela felt her lower lip begin to tremble as a name appeared several times upon the page. Stephen. Who was he? And another. Robert? Who were these men?

Michaela sighed heavily and closed her eyes. This wasn't important right now. She needed to find her sister. But, before she could get up to leave, she opened her eyes, and her gaze became transfixed on the words before her.

My daughter would never know her brother. She would never know the man that helped to give her life. She would never know that from the moment she was conceived, a world full of secrets had been created.

Gasping, Michaela stood up and dropped the book on the bed. She shook her head. Surely she couldn't have just read that. No. It wasn't true. Stephen. Robert. Who was who? Was this some wicked lie that her mother created to keep her children guessing for the rest of their lives?

With a deep breath, Michaela shook her head and picked the book back up. She had to find out the truth, or else she wasn't certain she could help her sister. The idea that one of her sisters—perhaps even her—was not biologically Josef Quinn's child scared her tremendously, and she had to know the truth.

"Mother? Where are we going? Are we going to get the baby? You said he will be here soon!"

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple, sweetheart. I simply want to make a stop to visit an old friend."

"Who, Mother?"

"Oh, you don't know him, my dear. You could have, but…you keep hold of my hand! I didn't bring you into this world just to lose you!"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I won't let go this time."

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit nervous."

"Why, Mother?"

"I haven't seen this friend…in a very long time."

"How long?"

"Five years, sweetheart. Five very long years."

The memory came flooding back to her as if it had been hidden in the depths of her soul since that day. She opened her eyes, as she sat on the bench in the park. She was shivering with cold, but she didn't know where else to go. If she went back home, she'd have to face the family and the sister that wasn't even fully hers anymore. She would have to explain why she'd left without any word. She would have to add salt to the wounds she'd created the night before in her reading. How could somebody's words cut so deeply? How could her mother hurt her like this?

Her hands knotted the sides of her skirt, and she took several deep breaths. The realization was still hitting her, and she felt dizzy with fear. She was angry because of the deception, but at the same time, she couldn't help but want to cry tears of joy, because Josef Quinn had taken it upon himself to raise another man's children. She had been lucky enough to be one of those children.

Rebecca's heart was heavy, and she didn't know what to do or where to go. All the way to the park, she had thought strongly about taking Mary and fleeing to Colorado Springs or to California. She wanted to get away, but she knew that running would only make things worse. Was this how Michaela had felt when she'd found out she was pregnant? It was something that was going to change her life. Everything she'd learned or believed in the past was altered. Sure, she didn't have to live with the fear that she was pregnant out of wedlock, but finding out that her entire past was a lie made Rebecca wonder what would have happened had her life turned out differently.

Hearing footsteps on the pavement nearby, Rebecca looked up, surprised to see Timothy walking toward her, his eyes focused on the ground. She wasn't certain he even knew she was there. She was tempted to let him walk right by her, but something inside of her told her she needed him. She needed him to listen. Judging by the state he was in, it appeared that he needed her too.

"Timothy?" The Reverend startled, and he looked over toward the sound of the voice.

"Rebecca?" He moved toward her, as she stood up. "What are you doing out here so early? Where…where's Mary?" When he saw that she'd been crying, his heart dropped. "Did something happen? Is she alright? Are you…"

"We're all fine, Timothy," she replied. "I've just been…thinking." He searched her eyes. He didn't see anger there anymore.

"So have I," he replied. "It seems that each day brings something new to think about." She studied his face, and the dark circles under his eyes told that he hadn't slept much. "I'm willing to listen, Rebecca. I understand if you can't trust me…I know that I hurt you."

"You did hurt me, Timothy, but for once, that's the last thing on my mind." He nodded his head.

"For what it's worth…I'm sorry." She looked up at him, as they both sat down on the bench.

"You're sorry?" Rebecca studied his face, seeing an internal war brewing inside of him. "Timothy, what's happened?"

"It's…it's nothing," he lied, but she didn't buy it. He turned toward her abruptly, taking her hands boldly into his. Her eyes widened, as he squeezed them. "Timothy? I know a lie when I hear one. Tell me."

"Why do you even wanna hear it? After everything…"

"Maybe it'll help me take my mind off of my own problems," she said quietly. "I'm here to listen, so please…start talking." Timothy swallowed hard, uncertain of where to begin. He could still hardly believe it himself, but he knew that the first thing he needed to do was apologize to her. He needed to make her realize how he felt, because his life had just been turned upside down.

"I need to tell you how terribly sorry I am for…for the way I reacted to your sister and Sully's situation." Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," she said slowly, seeing him tense up.

"You know that I have a duty to my congregation. I have to tend to their spiritual well being. When I found out Michaela was expectin', I just…I didn't know how to react. She's a wonderful woman, your sister. Unfortunately, I admit that even I felt that she deserved some of the negative attention she received. She was the town doctor, and…" Rebecca pulled away, but he moved toward her again. "Please. Please, hear me out."

"Nobody deserves to be treated that way, Timothy. Nobody." Her eyes were warm, but she was trying hard to make them cold and uncaring. For Rebecca, that was impossible.

"I know that. I know. Rebecca, I'm…" The word was lodged in the back of his throat, choking him by the second. He closed his eyes. "I found out something that…that really made me look at things differently. I owe Michaela an apology. I think I owe her much more than that, but I think it's a good place to start." Rebecca shook her head.

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Timothy. What's happened that could have changed your mind about my sister?" Timothy shook his head and looked down.

"The friend…the woman that asked me to come here…"

"Yes?"

"It turns out, she wanted me here to tell me that I'm…I have a daughter." Rebecca's eyes widened.

"You? You have a child, Timothy?"

"Her name is Gabrielle…Gabby. She's nine years old. I never knew she was mine 'til last night."

"I can't believe it," Rebecca breathed, the irony clear before her. Timothy had been a hypocrite all this time without even knowing. "You cast negativity upon those who make the same decisions that Michaela and Sully have, yet you made the same decision yourself!" She couldn't help it. She was angry, and knowing that a little girl had grown up for nine years not knowing who her father truly was made her heart begin to break. At least Gabby hadn't had to wait a lifetime to discover the truth unlike herself.

"That was a long time ago. It was another lifetime ago, Rebecca."

"Did you know it was a possibility?" Timothy nodded his head.

"I did, Rebecca. I was convinced she wasn't mine. Her mother said it was impossible. I…I believed her. Maybe I just wanted to believe her." Timothy put his head in his hands. "I was a different man then, Rebecca."

"But you could have stopped the gossip, Timothy! When you learned that Michaela was pregnant, you could have put a stop to…"

"You think I have that power?"

"You're the Reverend!" she exclaimed, standing up. Timothy felt as if he was losing her all over again.

"We've been over this, Rebecca! I can't change the past! I can't change what I've done. The decisions I've made…" He followed after her, as she started to walk away. "Stop! Just wait a minute." Rebecca turned, her eyes angry now.

"Don't tell me what to do. I need to go now, Timothy."

"Don't you wanna hear me out?" Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to ease her own anger. What was the worst that could happen? If anything, she could further push him away. Right now, that seemed like the best thing to do.

"Fine," she replied, moving back to the bench to sit down. She looked up at him, waiting for him to speak. She couldn't help but be this angry with him. She had never expected him to be a hypocrite. Even though he hadn't known he was a father, he'd still created a child out of wedlock. He'd still done the one thing that was supposed to be sacred between a husband and a wife, and then he'd done nothing to ease Sully and Michaela's burden after their own secrets had been revealed.

"The moment I found out Gabby was mine, I didn't know what to do. So I started walking. I walked, and I even went by your house, Rebecca. The windows were all dark, so I didn't stop. Rebecca, we were good friends once. The first thing I wanted to do was talk to you, even though you have every right to hate me right now."

"I don't hate you," she whispered. "I just wish you would have taken a stand." He nodded his head.

"So do I, Rebecca." Rebecca felt her anger dissipating, and she let Timothy continue.

"I want to be a good father. I often imagined what it would be like to have a daughter, and when you and Mary were in Colorado Springs, I admit that I pictured us as a family." Rebecca's breath caught in her throat. "When Horace accidentally let it slip about Michaela's condition, I knew what I needed to do, but at the same time, I knew how the town would react if I…" He shook his head. "The point is that I was a fool. I have a daughter now who probably thinks I don't want her in my life. It isn't true. I want her to be there. I want you there too. You and Mary." Rebecca stood slowly.

"Timothy, you aren't…"

"I know it's a lot to ask. If friendship is all you can give me then I'll take it. I miss you. I want to make things right. I want to change, Rebecca." She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but her heart was still aching. "Please, Rebecca. I need you…" Rebecca sighed softly and she reached over to squeeze his hand.

"It will take some time, Timothy, but I'd like to have our friendship back." She smiled a little, trying to let go of her hurt and frustration, but that only opened the floodgates for her present troubles to flow forth.

"Thank you," he said quietly, a smile forming over his lips. "Thank you." Rebecca nodded, and she forced her tears back. "You…you said something was…"

"It doesn't matter," she said curtly, surprising herself by her tone. He shook his head.

"'Course it does. We're friends, Rebecca. No matter what happens, that won't change. I can promise you that. I'm here if ya wanna talk." Rebecca shook her head.

"It isn't that simple," she said quietly. "There is so much to tell, and I wouldn't know where to begin. I'm not even certain that…that talking about it would help." Timothy nodded his head.

"Folks feel that way a lot, but I've noticed they usually do feel better if they've talked to somebody they trust." He looked down. "I wish you could trust me. I won't blame you if you can't do that. I know it takes time." Rebecca nodded, and she let out a slow breath.

"I found out something that…that's changed my view of my entire life. I feel like my life was a lie." He glanced at her patiently. "I feel like I'm looking at the world from a new perspective, and I'm not certain that's a good thing. I was brought up to be the kind, patient sister. I was the one that took care of the younger children, because I was the responsible one. I was bred to be a shining example for my siblings and for the rest of the girls my age, it seemed." She shook her head. "It turns out that I wasn't even…" She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"You weren't what?" Rebecca froze momentarily, staring out toward the duck pond and watching the sun beaming down on it. It was almost blinding and numbing at the same time.

"I'm not even a Quinn." Timothy's eyes widened. "My birth father's name was Stephen O'Connor, and my mother gave birth to me along with a twin brother." She shook her head. "I often wondered why my sisters were so different from me. I wondered why I felt as if I was missing something. Now I know. I feel…I don't know what I feel. Anger? Hatred? I feel as if I should hate my mother for telling me this now. Why now? Why did I ever need to know?" Timothy shook his head.

"Sometimes we hear things we aren't ready to hear, but they need to be heard. Maybe your ma needed you to know. Maybe it put her at peace." She looked away.

"I want to let this go. I want to say that it isn't important, because I have a loving family, but I can't do it, Timothy. I can't let this go. She had my best interest at heart, I know, but she never told me. She never even told me I had a twin brother." She looked down into her hands, wishing she could see into her past. If things had been different, her sisters never would have been born. She loved them all dearly, despite the quarrels they often got into, and she refused to let herself feel out of place. She'd always been a member of that family since the moment her mother had made the decision to marry Josef. Josef was the only father she knew, and she still considered him her father. Yet her heart was yearning to learn more about her true father. She wanted to know her heritage. She wanted to know about her brother. A part of her wanted to forget about everything she'd just learned about herself. She wanted to go back in time and stop herself from reading the journal that had turned her world upside down.

"Rebecca?" Timothy asked. "Would you like me to walk you home?" Rebecca shook her head and stood.

"No thank you. You should be spending time with your daughter." She frowned. "Did you really mean what you said about apologizing to Michaela and Sully?" Timothy nodded.

"'Course I did."

"Good," Rebecca smiled. "Would you come by for supper tonight?" Nervously, he nodded his head.

"If you'll have me, I'd be honored." With a slight smile, Rebecca nodded her head and started off toward Beacon Hill, her heart feeling heavy, but a weight lifting from her shoulders at the same time.

"Michaela?" Sully tapped on the half-open door of Rebecca's room. He'd become worried when Michaela hadn't come back down. But now he saw her standing at her sister's window, looking out over the city. "Michaela? Where's Rebecca?" Michaela turned as if only now hearing his voice. Her eyes were full of tears and exhaustion at the same time.

"Oh, Sully," she whispered. Sully swallowed hard, sensing a quiver in her voice.

"Michaela? What happened?"

"We have to find her, Sully. She's upset. She's…"

"What happened?" he repeated. Michaela looked down at the journal.

"She read something…something terrible," she whispered. Sully crossed the room, taking the journal into his hands. "She's not…she's not my father's daughter."

"What?" Sully asked, his voice catching in the back of his throat. Michaela shook her head.

"My mother was married before Father. She and this…this Stephen O'Connor…they had Rebecca and my brother Robert." Sully raised an eyebrow.

"Brother?" Michaela's back collapsed against the wall, and Sully pulled her into his arms, as she let out a sob.

"Oh, Sully," she breathed, "this can't be happening. Not now." She looked down, and Sully gently put his hands on her shoulders. "She must have read it and left to think. I don't want her out there by herself, Sully. She's probably hurting, and…"

"I'll go look for her," Sully promised.

"I should go," she said quietly. Sully shook his head.

"Michaela, I want ya to rest, alright? Somebody's gotta look after the kids, and I think they'd like to spend some time with ya."

"She's my sister, Sully. She needs me." Sully sighed, knowing she was right.

"Alright. Promise me you'll come back home if ya get too tired." Her eyes twinkled with tears, and she simply nodded.

"I promise." Sully pulled her in and kissed her cheek.

"We'll talk when ya get back, alright? I'm sure ya got a lot on your mind." She nodded.

"Thank you," she breathed, before she headed out of the room to prepare to search for her sister.

Timothy rounded the corner and started up the familiar street. He didn't know what to expect when he arrived back at the house. Would Gabby deny him? Would she even acknowledge his presence? Sylvia…what could he even say to her? He was angry with her, but he wanted to make things right for Gabby's sake. He wanted her to know that no matter what happened in the past, it didn't matter anymore.

When he turned to walk up onto the steps of the small townhouse, he was surprised to see Gabby sitting on the steps, her elbows resting on her knees, as she cried into her hands.

"Gabrielle?" Timothy asked quietly, moving to sit beside her. "Gabby?" He didn't dare to touch her, and he heard her sniffle.

"Mother's dying," she said softly. "Dr. Burke is with her now." Timothy sighed softly.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should go in there and…"

"You're my father," she said quietly, looking up at him with those piercing green-blue eyes. Timothy startled for a moment, but he couldn't deny it any longer.

"I…"

"I heard you arguing with my mother last night. I know you're mad at her."

"How…how do you feel about that?" he asked quietly. Sylvia frowned, looking down into her hands.

"I already knew," she replied. Timothy raised his brows.

"You knew?" She nodded.

"I knew right before you got here. I just didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to upset Mother." Timothy looked away for a moment, surprised at how calm the girl was about him being her father. "My father…well, my mother's husband died, and I miss him. But I didn't cry when I found out he wasn't my real father. I just…I just wondered what my real father was like." Timothy nodded.

"Your mother wants you to come live with me. I live in Colorado Springs. How would you feel about that?" he asked tensely. Gabby shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess it'd be ok. I don't want to leave Mother, but last night…after you left, she told me that she wanted me to give you a chance. She wants you to have the chance to be my father that she didn't give you." Timothy nodded.

"Is that what you want?" The little girl looked down into her hands, and she nodded her head. He smiled a little bit.

"So do I," he answered. "I'd like that very much." Just then, Dr. Burke opened the front door, a solemn expression plastered across his face. Timothy stood quickly, but Gabby didn't move. It was as if she already knew.

"She's asking for you, Sir."

March 1871 – Colorado Springs

"Help me get her inside," Daniel demanded, as Kid Cole came rushing down the street. Carrie was nearly unconscious, but she was holding her own. She held her mother's locket firmly in her grasp.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Doc Cassidy remarked, as he helped Kid Cole and Daniel pick Carrie up off of the litter. "You did a nice job stitching up the wound."

"I didn't," Daniel said with a grunt, as they headed inside of the clinic. "A Cheyenne medicine man found her. He saved her life." Doc Cassidy gave him a disapproving look, before Carrie's eyes fluttered open.

"Where is she?" she asked wearily. "Where's Olive?"

"You need to rest," Doc Cassidy said sternly.

"No!" Carrie demanded, as they began to carry her up the stairs. "Where the hell is she!"

"She's holding on," he finally admitted.

"Let me see her."

"You're very weak. You need to rest now, and…"

"I want to see her, damn it, and if ya don't let me, I swear to God I'll…"

"Just let her see her ma," Daniel interjected. Doc Cassidy grumbled something under his breath, but he backed through an open door, letting Carrie see the woman she'd only just found out was her mother.

Carrie was taken aback, gasping, as she saw Olive's pale face. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be hanging on to her last breath.

"Carrie," Tommy said sadly.

"Pa," she choked out. Daniel gently lifted her into his arms and moved across the room to the bed. Carrie looked down at her mother. There were so many things she could say to her. But how could she yell at a dying woman? How could she say how angry she was that she'd given her up so long ago? How could she ask her why she'd done it?

When Olive opened her eyes, a flicker of recognition appeared upon her face, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Carrie," she whispered hoarsely. "You…you came."

"I'm here," Carrie said quietly. "I…" She shook her head, as Olive reached for her hand, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't take her eyes off of her mother's. They had the same eyes. They had the same pain. She'd never known her mother, and her mother had never known her.

"I wanted you to be happy," she choked out. Carrie wanted to scream. She wanted to tell her mother that all she had ever needed was her, but she couldn't. She saw into the dying woman's eyes, and she knew the truth. There was nothing else left to say. Despite her anger and her sadness, she ultimately knew why Olive had done it. She had given her the gift of a good life. She'd given her the chance to be a strong woman. In many ways, she'd seized the opportunity and had already begun to build a new life.

"I know, Olive. I know," she said gently. "I'll be happy. I promise." Olive smiled a little, and she closed her eyes again.

"I didn't wanna…let ya down." Carrie's eyes scanned the room, and her head began to spin. She leaned her head against Daniel's shoulder, stared intently at her mother, and the only words that she could speak were the two words nobody expected to hear from her in that moment.

"Thank you," she whispered. She let out a long, slow breath, knowing that the only way she could move on was to forgive Olive for what she'd done. She'd done it with her child's best interest at heart, and deep down, Carrie knew it. She had had a lifetime without her mother, but for a little while, they had been friends. And Olive knew. She could finally let go. And she did.