CHAPTER 1
Michaela stood staring out the window of her lavish office in the new hospital – an office filled with beautiful furniture handcrafted by her loving husband. Her gaze perused the lovely garden with its wrought iron benches. For a moment, she pictured Sully out there, working hard to create the space...for her...so that she could have a place to come to during a hectic day at the hospital, to rest her spirit, he'd said. Throughout the summer, she had sat many times on one of the benches, staring up at the Peak and enjoying the breeze ruffling the fragrant, colorful flowers that had surrounded the elaborate plaque in the center.
But now they had all wilted. They matched her mood.
Her eyes touching the side of the plaque, she didn't have to see it to know the words. It was as if they were engraved on her heart...
COLORADO SPRINGS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
Dedicated May 1881
To the memory of the late Elizabeth Ann Weston Quinn.
A woman of substance, strength, gentle tenderness,
generosity, and love.
She loved lavishly.
This facility is the final example of that love.
The daughter drew in a breath, grateful that the smothering melancholia triggered by her mother's passing had finally lifted. But it wasn't just Elizabeth's death; it had been a combination of so many things in her life radically changing in the space of a few weeks. Brian staying in Boston to work at the Globe...Colleen and Andrew staying in Boston to operate their own practice – forcing Michaela to give up her long-held dream of Colleen coming to work with her at the clinic...
Added to that, in the midst of that terrible first year, her own body had begun its 'change' – and it hadn't been the sort of 'Spring has sprung' experience Dorothy had enjoyed. No, for Michaela, it had been as if her whole personality was slowly being altered – and it had only magnified the expression of her grief. She had thought at first that her dream of giving Sully another child had finally come true – until reality had cruelly ripped that dream away. As a physician, she understood that the combined trauma had propelled her into experiencing the early symptoms of menopause. But as a woman, she had been so immersed within the discomfort and the subsequent feeling of helplessness of the unavoidable process, that she hadn't been able to even broach the subject with Sully. On the contrary, she had pushed him away.
The memory of that made her grit her teeth in self-loathing. She had counseled other women in the same situation, when they had told her they felt 'less of a woman'. She had told them, emphatically, that wasn't so – but when she experienced it herself, it was exactly how she felt. Less than a woman, because now she had no more hope of bearing more of Sully's children...
When the melancholia had finally lifted, in its place, a feeling of loss had taken up residence; so profound it took every ounce of strength she possessed to carry on with her duties, and to present to the world at large her 'Dr. Quinn' persona. To function, make decisions, raise her daughter, and not allow people to see past the façade to the decimated and achingly empty woman inside. Decimated to the point that she wondered how much longer she could keep up the appearance that everything was all right with her world.
He left me...she pondered for what must have been the millionth time. I still can't believe it. Sully walked out of my life – and Katie's too. Deep down, Michaela knew she was to blame, knew the words she had screamed at her husband that terrible night had been totally irrational and she hadn't meant one of them – the same way she hadn't meant the cruel things she had yelled at him that night so long ago when the barn had caught on fire. The shame she felt magnified the hurt to the point of blinding, searing agony. I never thought this could happen to us. We clung together through storms, Indian attacks, abductions, injuries, sickness, threat of prison and death. He called me his 'heartsong'. He was my best friend, my confidant and staunchest supporter...my only lover. He promised he would love me 'all his days'...but he left me. Without a word. Without so much as a goodbye...
Wondering again where he had gone, she longed to go look for him, the way she had when he'd been missing those long, hard days after his fall from the cliff. But she couldn't, she had no one to care for Katie. No, that wasn't true. She had lied to herself so long she had almost forgotten the real truth – that she couldn't bear for anyone to know her shame. She couldn't stand the mere thought of anyone whispering behind her back that she wasn't 'woman enough' to keep him. She hadn't written to Rebecca. She couldn't even ask Matthew to come from Denver, nor could she recruit friends like Hank or Loren or Daniel to go look for him, as she wouldn't endure the look of pity that would surely show in their eyes.
No one knew. She had made sure of that. She had a litany of excuses she regularly served up to anyone who might ask Sully's whereabouts. "He's working." "He got in yesterday, but he's worn out and has to leave again in a few days." "He's on another assignment." Hazily, she wondered about herself, abstractly thinking that Sully's time of hiding from the army had changed something within her and had caused her conscience to become somewhat calloused in regard to always speaking the absolute truth. Even to her own daughter, she had become adept at the lies. "Your papa will be home soon, sweetheart. Something is just keeping him longer than he planned."
But somehow she suspected that Katie saw through the ruse. Katie and Sully had always been so close, even more so after her kidnapping. The little girl knew something was wrong, her papa would never stay away from her without so much as a telegram, but the only other person she trusted above all others – her mother – didn't seem to want to tell her the truth.
Raising her eyes to the magnificent view of Pike's Peak that Sully had thoughtfully made sure her office window afforded, Michaela sighed mournfully. Where are you, Sully? Will you ever come back to me? To us? Don't you know how much we need you...how much I need you? I want so badly to tell you I'm sorry for the things I said...
Taking in another breath, however, Michaela's stubborn Irish streak decided to kick in with a thought of its own. But you never came back after our argument. You never gave me the chance. You broke your promises to me. You broke your vows... For an entire, long, agonizing week after their terrible fight, she had felt that she should seek him out and apologize, the way she had so long ago after that fierce argument. But stubbornly, she had not. The words he had flung back to her had stung, hitting too close to home. It was only afterwards - when she realized that he had left for parts unknown - that she had come to her senses, staggeringly wondering what 'force' had had her so tightly in its grip that she had been blinded to everything around her for so very long. Perhaps in a backhanded way, Sully's constant care and patience had 'enabled' her to continue in her downward spiral, her descent only arrested by his absence. She'd longed for him to come back so that she could tell him she was sorry, but he was just...gone.
The days had turned into weeks, and then months, but he had never returned. More than once, she had started toward the telegraph office to send a telegram to Welland Smith, just to see if he knew Sully's whereabouts. But always at the last minute, she changed her mind, afraid that her husband had told his superior not to let on. And also...Horace would know that she had no idea where her husband was...
Mist clouded her eyes then as she allowed herself the pleasure, and the exquisite aching emptiness - of thinking of him...visualizing him with the breeze ruffling his hair as he rode a horse...the way he held his cup as he drank his coffee...his special smile, reserved just for her...the blue of his eyes on a bright summer day...the smooth warmth of his lips as they melded with hers...the image of him as he hovered above her, the firelight in their bedroom glimmering warmly on his skin as he made sweet love to her...but that was so long ago...
"Ma? Are...are you all right?" a small, sweet voice asked softly.
Michaela stirred from her thoughts and quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. Curling the fingers of one hand into a tight fist, so tightly that her nails dug into her palm, Michaela plastered a smile on her face and turned to view her daughter.
Katie, standing in the doorway of her mother's office, looked more like her father with every passing year. Michaela's eyes caressed her daughter's sweet face and dark honey blonde hair, which had begun to turn darker and more like each of her parents. Her features were without a doubt as delicate as her mother's, yet her eyes, though dark brown, contained that 'Sully' spark, and she possessed her father's long thick eyelashes and his heart-melting smile. She had also inherited his innate sense and understanding of the feelings of others. For that, Michaela was both grateful and wary. She must, at all costs, keep her daughter from being hurt – for as long as she possibly could.
"Hello, sweetheart," she answered brightly. "Yes, I'm fine. Did you have a good day at school?"
"Yeah..." ten year old Katie answered with a bit of hesitation. Preoccupied as she was, Michaela picked up on it.
"What is it sweetheart? Come, sit with me," she added, gesturing toward the chair next to her desk as she sank down into her own.
Katie obediently obliged, plopping her schoolbooks down on the corner of the desk and throwing herself discouragingly onto the chair.
Closely examining her daughter's expression, Michaela suddenly suspected what had occurred. It wasn't the first time. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked softly.
Katie bit down on her lip and cast her gaze away from her mother's sad countenance, only to land on the framed photo on the desk. It was the last photograph taken of them as a family, Ma, Colleen, Matthew, Brian, herself...and their Pa. He was smiling that smile she remembered and holding her tightly on his lap.
Looking back to meet her mother's eyes, she whispered, "The other kids...they were saying things about Pa again..."
Michaela swallowed, preparing herself for another session of reassuring her daughter on a subject about which she herself was excruciatingly unsure. "What things, sweetheart?"
"B...Billy and Harold, they said that Pa left us for some girl of the line in Denver. I told 'em that was a lie, but they just kept on and on," she whined, her eyes filling, one tear spilling from each and tracking slowly down her cheeks. Michaela immediately opened her arms and the little girl scrambled from her chair and into her mother's embrace.
"I'm so sorry, my darling. Children can be so cruel," Michaela whispered, pressing her lips to her daughter's hair and blinking away tears as she looked toward the ceiling, as if it would afford her some wisdom to impart. "Don't pay any attention to them, they're only repeating unfounded gossip..."
"Ma...what's a 'girl of the line'?" Katie sniffed, wiping tears with one hand as she leaned back enough to see Michaela's face. "It's like a saloon lady, isn't it? Like at the Gold Nugget?" The child bit her lip as an image of her wonderful father laughing, dancing and cavorting in the arms of a brashly painted saloon girl came to her mind.
Michaela's eyes widened in surprise at the question, but she quickly controlled her reaction, refusing to even imagine such a scenario. "Yes, Katie. But you know better than to let the teasing of the other children make you upset. You know your father loves you, don't you?" she paused, waiting for her daughter to acknowledge that fact with a nod. "He loves you so much. And any day now, he'll be riding in on his horse and tell us all about his adventures," Michaela crooned in practiced sincerity, wishing fervently that she believed it herself.
For Katie, the memories of that night came again as they had a hundred times before...her parents voices raised in anger...her own tears of confusion and uncertainty as she hid underneath her covers...the jarring of her nerves as she heard him stomp down the stairs and slam the door. She had never known her father to be so angry, and had even entertained the thought that the argument may have had something to do with her. "Will he, Mama?" Katie whispered now, more tears spilling from her dark eyes.
Unable to meet those trusting eyes another second; Michaela closed hers and drew her daughter back into her arms, pressing her face against her breast. "I hope so, sweetheart," she admitted in a whisper. The two sat thus together, rocking slowly back and forth and drawing strength from one another, until a polite clearing of a throat was heard.
Michaela's eyes popped opened to see Grace standing uncertainly at the door to the office. The look in her eyes told Michaela that she had overheard at least the last part of the conversation. Michaela steeled herself for a grilling.
True to form, the café owner bustled forward, smiling lovingly at her Godchild as she leaned down to her level. "Katie girl, I brought the nurses a plate 'a cookies. They're your favorite – chocolate with pecans. Why don't you run along and get you some?"
Sniffling and wiping her eyes and nose on the hanky her mother handed her, the child disengaged herself from Michaela's clasp and nodded, walking to the door. Looking back at the carefully blank faces of the two women, she paused, and then disappeared down the hall.
Grace stepped close and closed the door with a click. Then turning, she surveyed the haggard appearance of her friend. Over the months, Grace had grown used to Michaela always appearing tired and stressed, but she had just assumed it was the added pressure and responsibility of the new hospital – and the seemingly unending absences of her soul mate. Now, her suspicion piqued, the Creole beauty stepped close and crossed her arms over her chest.
Piercing Michaela with that no-nonsense glare that only she could accomplish, Grace blurted, "Docta Mike, what's goin' on?"
"Grace, I don't know what you me..." Michaela began, but Grace quickly raised a hand to interrupt. "I mean..." she clarified with her trademark sass, tossing her head and clamping her hands on her hips. "You been tellin' everybody that Sully's away on business and that when he comes home, he stays out at the homestead with you and Katie and then leaves again. But..." she paused, searching her friend's face and now able to tell clearly that Michaela was on the edge. "But, that ain't true...is it," she stated flatly.
"I..." Michaela began, only to have her voice fail, as Grace's knowing eyes seemed to bring all of the carefully suppressed feelings rushing to the surface like a geyser. With a shudder, her face contorted with an avalanche of misery and she squeaked, "Oh Grace...Sully left me, six months ago!"
OOOOOO
Cloud Dancing couldn't believe his ears. Medicine Woman sent Sully away? He shook his head softly, trying to make sense of such a revelation, and wondering once again why he had felt nothing from the spirits. Perhaps he could have helped his friends in some way. Living in the white man's world and not with his own kind might have dulled his spiritual connections more than he had even realized, and the thought was a bitter one. During the long months since his brother's family had returned from their sad trip to far away Boston, he had been consumed with his life with Dorothy and with her new found fame as a writer, first working with her to polish the manuscript of the book she had burned in the futile attempt to protect he and Sully, and then assisting her with other literary endeavors.
But, how could he have missed that his brother had been in such agony? Why had Sully not sought him out for help or wisdom?
Determined to rectify the situation in any way possible, he glanced around, murmuring, "My brother...I left my horse with yours at the foot of the hill. Let us go to your shelter."
Sully nodded numbly and fell into step behind his friend as they made their way down the steep hill and around bushes, trees, and boulders, until they came to the patiently waiting horses. Deep down, a tiny spark of hope had ignited within Sully's heart. He desperately hoped that somehow his brother would have an answer to this puzzle, a nugget of wisdom that would magically fix the problem, the way he had so many times in their past.
Soon, they rode into a camp with a lean-to, cooking utensils, and other paraphernalia. Cloud Dancing looked around, noticing that Sully didn't seem to care about his living arrangements any more than he now cared about his appearance. The whole camp was a mess. Discarded food was drawing ants, and an unclean odor seemed to permeate the surroundings.
"Sully...forgive me, but...when was the last time you bathed?" the Indian asked, only half joking, as he slid from his horse.
Sully slid from his and let the reins drop, glancing at his companion and shrugging. "Don't know." Then catching the look from his friend, he added softly, "It don't seem important anymore. Nothin' does."
Knowing that his brother needed care and understanding, Cloud Dancing watched as Sully lowered himself tiredly to his bedroll, only to sit staring at the cold remains of his last camp fire. The Cheyenne set about rummaging through the camp's provisions for something he could prepare for a meal. Knowing his friend always enjoyed a good cup of coffee, he crossed to the nearby stream with pot in hand, rinsed it out and filled it, then came back and set it on the newly lit fire. All the while, he kept glancing at his companion, only to find Sully staring at nothing, obviously deep inside his tortured thoughts. Choosing to say nothing for the time being, he kept on with the preparing of the meal.
Later, after they had eaten their fill, they relaxed back onto their bedrolls, chatting idly. Cloud Dancing was pleased that Sully had consumed at least some of the food. Knowing he had to broach the subject at some point, the Medicine Man sat forward again, cross-legged, and reached into his pouch for some nuts to munch on. Offering some to his friend, he asked softly as Sully shook his head, "Tell me what has happened, my brother. Start at the beginning."
Sully clamped his lips together for a moment in somewhat of a pout, but then huffed out a breath and began to speak, haltingly, his voice just above a whisper. "I guess... things started ta... go bad after Michaela's Ma passed on. On the train comin' home, all she did was cry. Nothin' I did or said helped. She couldn't seem ta take comfort from me," he paused with a small shrug. "I thought it would pass in time. She was like she was after we thought Katie'd been killed, only ten times worse. That time, she was mad at me, cause she blamed me for Katie gettin' kidnapped, but this time...it was like all of the life had drained out 'a her. Even worse than after Washita..." he paused, darting a look at his friend. Cloud Dancing merely nodded and indicated for him to continue. "I figured she had what Horace did that time...and like him, nothin' helped." Stopping again, memories floated through his mind of all the many ways he had tried to help his beloved soul mate through her time of grieving – and all the ways he had been rebuffed... His eyes began to fill, but he swiped at them with the back of one hand.
"Then when we started to build the hospital, she seemed to perk up, but I realized later she was just pourin' herself into the work to keep from thinkin' about what was makin' her sad. I tried to talk to her, to get her to talk about it, but all she did was deny anythin' was wrong. If I pressed, she'd get mad. She started stayin' away from me, I guess because I was tryin' to get her to face somethin' she didn't wanna face...I dunno," he sighed with a defeated shrug. "Sometimes she stayed in town at the clinic even when me and Katie went on home. She went on trips alone to Denver to oversee buyin' stuff for the hospital. But...she was like a different person. She wasn't excited about the hospital, she didn't want to lay with me and talk about it, or hear about my work on it, or anythin'." He paused and glanced again at his friend, finding only a patient regard. "She, uh...she stopped...bein' with me. When I'd try, she'd shy away or gimme some kind 'a excuse." Cloud Dancing nodded, thinking all of this was in line with what he figured had been wrong with Michaela, that she had once again found herself in a 'dark place', but for whatever reason, could not find her way out again. Cloud Dancing suspected, however, that there may have been more than one 'hurt' from which she had been suffering.
Sully shook his head, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead as he felt the beginnings of a headache, which always happened when he recited the details, even to himself. Knowing it was because his life had gotten so out of balance, he sighed hopelessly. "That went on and on. I guess everybody thought everythin' was alright, cause we kept goin' ta church together, rode inta town together, ate at Grace's together...but when we were alone...it was like I was a stranger to her. And she wouldn't talk to me about it. All she would say was, 'I don't know what you're talking about, Sully'. I was at the end of my rope...I guess I just couldn't understand how her mother's passin' could break her up so bad that it would come between us..."
With a soft groan, he shoved both hands into his hair, leaving them there as he stared at the ground between his dusty boots. "It all finally blew up after the hospital was dedicated. I thought maybe that would let her relax, but..." He stopped and grimaced at the painful memory. "A few nights later, gettin' ready for bed, I tried ta kiss her, and she pushed me away. I guess I...I guess I'd had all I could take, cause I said some things to her I ain't proud of. She yelled that if all I wanted her for was that, I could just leave. That she didn't need me. I yelled back that she hadn't been a wife ta me, or a ma to Katie, in months. She threw her hairbrush at me, and screamed at me ta get out and never come back. That she never wanted to see me again. So I left."
He stopped again, reliving that painful moment and the rage that coursed through his body as he'd slammed the front door so hard he almost broke the window, stormed out to the barn, and galloped off into the night without looking back.
"Sully...I am sure you know that it is human nature to say things in the heat of anger that we do not mean. You should have given her time to calm herself and then..."
"I did, Cloud Dancin'!" Sully interrupted, the agitation he felt at the situation rising to the surface. "I stayed away that night and all the next day. Stayed out on Daniel's land, thinkin', wonderin' what to do. Then...I went home and she and Katie were in town. I didn't know how Michaela would react if I went to see her, so I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote her a letter. I poured out my feelin's, told her how she'd hurt me, and I told her that in spite of everything, all I wanted was for her to be happy. And if it took me stayin' away from her to make her happy, that's what I'd do. I told her I'd wait four days for her to come to me. Told her where I'd be, and that if I didn't hear from her, I'd go on to the Yellowstone land and take that job as overseer. I waited five days..." he paused, looking into his brother's understanding eyes, and added softly, "she never came."
