iv
Michaela splashed her face copiously with cold water, in an attempt to cool down, her thwarted lust still pounding painfully through her body. She tried with all her might to block out the lingering sensation of his hands on her skin, as if he was still right here with her, touching, exploring….
Stop! Her mind screamed out. She took several deep breaths, focusing on her schedule for the workday. I must get ready, I have three appointments early… three appointments, she repeated to herself as she put her clothes on… Once fully dressed, and her hair neatly knotted in a strict bun, she felt a little calmer, enough to go downstairs and have breakfast with Brian. She peeked inside Katie's room, expecting her daughter to be awake, with all the commotion the men had made a few minutes earlier.
"Mama." Katie reached out her little arms to her mother, her eyes huge with fright.
"Oh, there's nothing to be scared of, Sweetheart," Michaela crooned reassuringly as she came in. "Just your brother and your papa being very noisy, that's all… Morning, sweet Katie." She leaned forward, somewhat awkwardly, to hug and kiss her little girl.
"'Nin', Mama," Katie chanted back. Michaela prepared her daughter for the day then led the way down to the kitchen, quite slowly because of her belly and Katie's short legs. When the child spotted her brother, she ran to him. "B'ian!"
"Hey, Kates, up with the chickens?" She giggled in answer, hugging Brian's knees.
"Mornin', Ma. Sorry we woke you up."
"It's all right, Brian, I had to get up early, I have a busy day."
"Goin' on rounds?"
"No, but I have some appointments in the morning, and I need to finish preparing my order for new medical supplies."
"Ya want me to help ya at the Clinic after school?"
"It won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer, Brian. You already help us so much with Katie, and the chores…"
Brian shrugged: "Least I can do."
"So, what was all that agitation about?"
"Uh, oh… that…. Jake said somethin' about his neighbor gone missin'… His baby too."
Michaela dropped the spoon full of oatmeal halfway between the dish and her bowl, splattering the table with the warm mixture. "What?"
"He didn't say much, only that, huh… Margaret had come to his house in the middle o' the night, screamin', askin' him to find her husband an' baby… D'ya know them, Ma?"
"Yes. Remember the night right after Sully and I came back from Denver?"
"Yeah, ya went out to help a woman have her baby, and ya only came back home the next mornin'…" Brian frowned, trying to piece everything together. "Why would Jake's neighbor run off like that with his kid? Did his wife do something' bad?"
"Oh no, Brian, Margaret didn't do anything wrong." Michaela shook her head woefully. As despicable as Vernon's misdeed was, one could easily assume that the man had seen no other alternative to relieve himself of his responsibility. She looked down at her bowl of oatmeal: without warning, her stomach churned sickeningly, and she could only dash to the outhouse, a hand clamped firmly on her mouth, a very worried Brian on her heels.
"Mornin' sickness again?" his voice filtered through the door. "I thought ya were over it..."
Michaela took a few deep breaths, swallowed the ball of bitterness that was constricting her throat and answered:
"It can happen any time, Brian. Don't worry, it's perfectly nor..." She could not finish her sentence for she was overcome by another wave of nausea. Between two heaves, she managed to say: "Please, look after Katie... I'll be fine in a minute..." She heard her son humph loudly, before he turned around and plodded back to the kitchen.
It took some time for the queasiness to pass, long enough for Michaela to realize it had little to do with her pregnancy. She was sick mainly out of dismay, and with her earlier frustration still weighing on her, it was no wonder her frayed emotions were getting the best of her. Get a grip on yourself, girl, her mind chided. She had more important things to do than to sit there and feel sorry for herself, beginning with eating a proper breakfast, if only for her baby's sake. She passed softly her hand on her stomach. "Don't worry, I'll always love and take care of you, sweet thing," she murmured. "Mama won't ever let anything happen to you."
* * *
Less than an hour later, everyone was fed, dressed and seated in the wagon. Katie was sandwiched between her mother and her brother, softly humming to her doll the lullaby Michaela had sung to her the evening before; Brian had insisted to drive, as he almost always did since he knew his mother was expecting again, whenever Sully was not around. He reminded Michaela of Matthew when she had first met the Cooper children: Brian was constantly looking for a way to make things easier for her, the way Matthew had done with Charlotte, both taking their role as man of the house very much at heart.
Brian was silent, he who usually talked at length of his projects, his friends or his visions on life. Michaela knew her short, but to-the-point explanation about the goings-on of the Tanner family, when she had felt well enough to go back to the kitchen, had shocked her son, and she wondered if she had done the right thing by telling him. Granted, he was familiar with sickness, death, sorrow... Too much for a fourteen-year-old boy, she mused grimly. Yet she'd rather have him learn the whole affair from her than from the gossiping tongues in town.
"Mornin' Dr. Mike, Brian, an' you, Miss Katie," Robert E. greeted them as Brian reined in the horses in front of the livery. The blacksmith assisted Michaela and Katie to get down, gave the boy a friendly pat on his shoulder and started unhitching the wagon.
"Hey Robert E.!... See ya both later. Good day." After a brief kiss to his mother and sister, he scampered off to school. Michaela watched her son go, hoping his school work would keep his mind off his troubled thoughts.
Once inside the Clinic, she settled Katie in the room she sometimes used as a substitute nursery, right next to her office, with a small collection of toys so that the little girl could entertain herself while she was caring for her patients. Just as she was opening her charts drawer, the bell rang. She glanced at the clock: Mr. Barlow was not due until another half an hour... It had to be someone else, unless the old man was feeling poorly again.
"How may I hel...." She stopped short as she beheld the sorry sight of Margaret, red-faced and puffy-eyed, hiccuping between two loud sobs, and supported by an exhausted-looking Teresa Slicker.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Dr. Quinn, but I thought bringing Margaret at your Clinic was the best thing. to do. I do not wish to leave her alone, but..."
"But your students are waiting for you, I understand. You did the right thing. Please come in."
The two women helped a howling Margaret to sit on the cot.
"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Slicker."
"De nada," Teresa said softly, lowering her eyes. "I must go now, but if you don't mind, I would like to come back here during lunch recess to see how she is doing."
"You're welcome to come here anytime, of course. Meanwhile, I'll try to make her as comfortable as I can."
"Well… I will see you later, then." Teresa exited discreetly, leaving her neighbor in the doctor's care.
As a physician, Michaela considered giving the poor woman a sedative, so that she would rest. But as a mother, she fully understood Margaret's anguish and her need to be reassured. She sat on the cot beside the young woman and put a consoling arm around her shoulders.
"They will find your son, and bring him back safe and sound, I'm sure of it."
Margaret sniffled in disbelief: "Might be, but they'll find Vern too, an' then, who tells ya he won't go off again, and leave Tommy before the first buildin' he'll see. Unless Sheriff Simon locks 'im up… But my husband don't deserve t'go t'jail."
"How can you defend him? He took off with your child, going God knows where…"
"He's gone to Denver," Margaret interjected. " At least, I think he has. Last night he came home drunk as a pig, talkin' to 'imself," she related grimly, "'bout an orphanage, 'bout how there were some in Denver that would take in the kid." She blew her nose loudly in the handkerchief Michaela had held out to her. "Never thought he'd go through with it…"
As Margaret brushed her hair out of her face, Michaela spotted a bruise across the woman's cheek. She could not refrain from gasping:
"Oh, God! He hit you, too!"
Margaret turned her head sharply to look at the doctor. The sudden movement made her wince, and Michaela barely had the time to notice the size of her pupils for Margaret rubbed her eyes in an attempt to ease her discomfort. She probably had a concussion. Michaela sighed inwardly with relief that she had not acted on her earlier impulse and administrated a drug that could have been dangerous. She had to insure that Margaret remained conscious so that she could observe any change in her condition.
"When did he hit you?"
"He didn' hit me."
"You don't expect me to believe that you fell down the stairs, do you? Or that you bumped accidentally into his fist…"
"It… it ain't what you think. I was tryin' to keep 'im from takin' our baby away, but he pushed me back and my head hit the nightstand. Was too dizzy to run after him, an' by the time I got to the Slickers', Vernon was long gone… You gotta believe me, my husband never struck me."
"He did push you, obviously quite violently."
"No, just enough for me t' lose my footin', is all. I'm tellin' ya, Vernon's not the hittin' kinda man."
"Margaret, I saw him yesterday fighting with a customer of the Gold Nugget."
"Never knew my husband to use his fists before… Never saw 'im drunk either…" Margaret's voice died down as another wave of tears sprang up. As Michaela was rubbing the woman's back in a soothing motion, her mind was spinning with images of Vernon each time she had seen him. She remembered the look or pure elation in his eyes when he had first held his son, or his loving concern for his wife. How could someone be so caring a minute, then turn around and act so disgracefully the next?… Unbidden, visions of Sully when he had hunted down Rankin, when he had almost killed the injured soldier at Washita, when he and Cloud Dancing, his brother, his best friend, had fought each other, crossed her mind. She shook her head, upset with herself for comparing her husband to Margaret's. Pushing those preposterous notions to the very back of her consciousness, she forced her concentration back to her patient.
"Do you still feel dizzy? Any nausea?"
"My head still hurts, but I'm not as dizzy, or sleepy, as I felt earlier."
"You mentioned that you couldn't get up right away after you hit your head, does it mean that you fainted, or…?"
"No, I remember hearin' the door slammin' shut, and his horse galoppin' away a minute later…"
"Good. Is your vision blurred?" asked Michaela as she waved her forefinger in front of Margaret's eyes.
"'Twas this mornin', but it ain't no longer"
"It's very encouraging. You obviously have a slight concussion, but it appears to be receding already." She probed the injured cheek very carefully, feeling for signs of fracture. Margaret groaned with the pain.
"I'm sorry to hurt you, but I needed to determine whether your cheekbone was broken or not. Fortunately, it isn't. I'm going to give you willow bark tea to ease the pain, and…"
"Willow bark?" Margaret cut in, her nose scrunched up. "What kinda medicine is that?"
"Cheyenne," Michaela answered as calmly as she could. "It would be unwise to give you laudanum now, and I can assure you the tea can be quite effective in your condition, with very few side effects."
"If you say so," mumbled Margaret.
Michaela put the kettle on the stove, then escorted her patient upstairs.
"Here, sit down. I'll be back in a minute"
Michaela was indeed back a short moment later, carrying a small tray. She poured the steaming tea into a cup, which she handed to Margaret.
"I want you to try not to fall asleep for at least two more hours. I'll check on you as often as I can."
"Thanks for your concern." Margaret sipped gingerly on the beverage, puckering her face at the bitter taste. "Ugh, never tasted anythin' that dreadful in my whole life. Can't ya gimme anythin' else?"
"I'd rather not for the time being. Please, try to drink at least that one cup. If you're not feeling better within the next hour, I'll see if I can give you something else, all right?"
Margaret nodded, then with a reluctant sigh, took another sip.
"Call me if you need anything."
As Michaela was about to leave, she heard Margaret mutter, as if to herself: "He wanted our baby so much… so much…"
More disturbed than ever, Michaela went back downstairs, praying that Sully and the others would find Vernon and Thomas. Before stepping into her office, she stopped at the nursery doorstep and blew a kiss to Katie.
"Play, Mama?"
The bell rang again right at that moment. Michaela shrugged helplessly.
"Sorry, Sweetheart, Mama must see her patients right now." Seeing a pout distorting her little girl's mouth, she added: "but as soon as I'm done, I'll come and play with you, promise." Mother and daughter waved to each other, then Michaela rushed to her office to let in Mr. Barlow.
"Mornin' Dr. Mike," the elderly farmer greeted her with a gap-toothed smile.
"Good morning, Mister Barlow. So, how are you today?"
* * *
Michaela stirred when she felt a draft and heard the front door click shut.
"Hey…" Sully leant forward to kiss her, then sat on the hassock, moving her feet so that they rested upon his lap. "Told ya not to wait for me."
"I wanted to." She yawned, stretched and rubbed her eyes, compelling herself toward alertness. She gazed at him earnestly. "Please tell me you found and brought back the baby."
Sully caressed her ankles in a reassuring massage. "We did. Caught up with Vernon just as he was ridin' into Denver. It took a lotta persuasion to make 'im turn 'round and follow us back here, but we did it."
"And Thomas?"
"Alive and back where he belongs."
"But how is he?"
"Huh, I'd say not too good. He was breathin' all right, but he never cried, or anythin'. Didn' even drink the milk we found for him. I sent Matthew ahead to fetch Philip an' tell him to meet us at the Tanners'. The baby's in good hands, now."
"What's going to happen to Vernon? Has Daniel put him in jail?
"He was gonna do it, but Margaret came out of nowhere and begged 'im not to, so Daniel let the man go. But he told 'em that if it happened again, he'd make sure Vernon forgot what daylight felt like."
"God…" she whispered in consternation. She yawned again.
"Busy day?"
"Not really. A few patients in the morning, that's all. I was able to prepare my order and give it to Horace."
"Good. But now, it's time for the doc' to go t'bed." He drew her up to her feet and into his arms. "Miss ya," he breathed against her cheek.
As he led her to the staircase, she asked him: "Did you eat?"
"Had somethin' when we stopped for the milk in the afternoon. Don't worry 'bout me."
"But…"
"Eatin' is the last thing I need right now," he interrupted her comment with a kiss that left her without a doubt as to what his needs were. Her cheeks warmed with thorough embarrassment for, unlike Sully's, her amorous mood of the morning had vanished. Unfortunately, Sully seemed to interpret her blushing as a favorable sign, she could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he was anxious to resume their "holdin'". Oh dear, how was she going to get out of that one…
When he stopped by Katie's room, she took advantage of his short absence to undress at speed, throw her nightdress on and crawl into bed. He came in just as she was settling herself in a comfortable position. She almost cursed herself for not being quick enough so that she could have pretended to be asleep. She fidgeted under the covers as she watched him wash and shave out of the corner of her eye, but froze when he crept up on her. His hands groped for and found the hem of her gown, then hitched it up to her waist. She tensed when she felt his fingers slithering between her thighs and around her torso to reach her breast. She had to tell him to stop.
"Playin' hard to get, huh?"
His feather-light touches, usually so efficient at warming her up from the core, tonight only brought out a superficial physical reaction She quivered involuntarily as her body, betraying her once again, responded to his dexterous moves. Maybe that was what she needed: to find oblivion in his embrace. Resignedly, she rolled over and, with a conviction she did not quite feel, wound her arms round his neck and held him closer. For a few minutes she tried to concentrate on the acute, but fleeting sensations that were coursing on her skin. Yet, each time she was able to relax enough to revel in his caresses, one of the thoughts she had ruminated almost all day would flash through her mind, causing any agreeable feeling to evanesce like a mirage.
Predictably enough, Sully paused in his ministrations. "Hey, what's wrong?"
What was she supposed to answer? How could she tell him what was on her mind, since she knew her misgivings were not founded… Were they?…
"Ya ain't with me…"
"Of course I am," she countered numbly, knowing hot flat and unconvincing her protest would sound to her husband's ears. She could sense his eyes searching hers, but she could not meet his gaze, she could not let him read the doubts that were written in hers.
"It's just… I'm just…" She could not think of a plausible excuse.
"You all right? Is it the baby?" He ran his hand over her belly tenderly. Possessively. He wanted our baby so much, an evil voice whispered in her ear. She shook her head.
"No… no, we're both fine." She snuggled up to him, and hoped he would not take her lack of enthusiasm as an affront. "I'm sorry."
"Nah, I am. Shoulda seen ya were too tired…"
Michaela closed her eyes and mouth, fighting the urge to tell him that her fatigue was not what was bothering her the most. Mingled with Margaret's comments and her jumbled memories of the few occasions when Sully's behavior had shocked or disturbed her, a faint echo of the promises they had made to each other a few months before resounded in her mind.
"But you shoulda told me ya didn' feel up to it, remember we promised to tell each other when somethin's wrong." As it had happened so often since they had met, Sully's thoughts were mirroring her own, yet she could not bring herself to confess hers. She would only hurt him with what he would be sure to take as a lack of trust. Coward, she accused herself.
"I honestly thought I did, Sully, I'm really sorry it didn't work out," was all she could say as she buried her face in his neck.
"It's all right. Let's get some sleep, we're all tired."
When he kissed her goodnight and assisted her to turn onto her side, she perceived his frustration through his touch, even through the air around them, reverberating like a silent complaint. Once she was settled back in the position she favored the most at night, she let fall the tears she had held tightly in check for the past few minutes, until her exhaustion overpowered her discomposure and she finally slept.
* * *
"… Then it's settled. Dr. Mike, Philip, we all trust you to find us a good doc. Huh… I reckon that's all for tonight, folks. Meetin's adjourned!" As soon as Jake had banged his gavel, the crowd of attendants rose and poured out of the church
Michaela sighed with relief. The session had run smoothly: the date for the next council election had been set and no one had made objections at the prospect of hiring another physician. Of course there had been a few comments that they would better check that the new doc was a man, remarks that all council members, as well as Philip and Michaela's closest friends had fully expected.
As she was about to follow Matthew outside, Philip caught up with her.
"I propose that we start making inquiries by Monday. I already have in mind the names of some persons who could be interested. What about you?"
"I'm in touch with several doctors all over the territory and with others back East. I don't think any of them would actually come here, but they might know some colleagues who would be willing…"
"Good. Let's meet at Grace's for lunch on Monday, to draw up a list of people we may contact."
"Agreed… Well, I suppose we'll see you at service on Sunday. Goodnight, Philip."
"Goodnight. And try to rest."
Michaela rolled her eyes. Easier said than done, she groused to herself. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week, but… Forget it.
"Sully's not with ya?" Dorothy inquired as she appeared at her side.
"No. Katie has been fractious lately, so we thought it would be better if he stayed home with the children."
"Does he know 'bout that new doc'?"
"Of course, why wouldn't he?"
"Are you two all right?" she asked out of the blue.
Michaela looked askance at her best friend. "We are perfectly fine, Dorothy." Why does she ask me such a question, she wondered, baffled.
"Last time I saw that look on your face, ya were both so perfectly fine that ya couldn't even look each other in the eye."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken this time. I'm exhausted, that's all. It's been a long day." It's been a long week… a long month… a long winter. A long year.
"Matthew's waiting for me. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."
"Night, Michaela. Get some rest."
Michaela let out an exasperated sigh, but waved politely to the older woman. Dorothy, like Philip, meant well, after all. But why on earth would her friend assume that she did not get along with Sully? She had not told a soul that she had not been able to give herself to her husband that other night… Besides, although they had not been intimate since then, they had remained affectionate toward each other. Nothing like the increasingly affected civility of the past summer. She shook her head to chase the memory of those troubled times out of her mind. She only wanted to think about her family, her baby, and her career.
She plastered a serene expression on her face for Matthew's benefit when she reached the wagon. The last thing she needed was another comment about how unwell she looked. He helped her onto the seat and soon they were heading for the homestead.