The heat droned into the open window in waves. As the air stood still and stagnant, it weighted down on her like a thick wool blanket. Uncomfortably she pulled at the wrist-long sleeves of her black mourning dress. She pressed her back into the foot wide adobe window seal, as she entwined her black lace covered fingers into the wrought iron gate, which stood in for glass panes. Teresa felt like she was caged into an elegant prison. Her head tilted back as she observed her surroundings with a tortured air. The high sunflower toned plaster walls seemed to feed her melancholy. How she wished to see the vibrant powder blue walls of Jake's and her bedroom.

The furniture of her room only served to frighten her, with their foreboding ebony craftsmanship. A long thick chest of drawers supporting a rather large warped mirror framed in the same ebony braid sent a chill down her spine. She couldn't help but draw the line of contrast between it and her white lady's vanity, which Jake had especially made for their first anniversary. Worst of all was that monstrous bed, looming over the entire room. The nearly black wooden headboard stretched up more than half the wall like a great tombstone. Its four carved posts reached up with spiraled unicorn horns, waiting to impale. She didn't relish spending another solitary night in that vast expanse of a bed. Teresa missed their medium bed, with the shallow dip worn into her side, because Jake often nestle half over her at night. His deep warm breath exhaling against the back of her neck, as he wrapped his arm and leg around her body.

This world had become unfamiliar and the malice shown on her arrival was near to overbearing. They clucked their tongues behind their hands at her "fancy" dress coat. The shaded bonnet she wore to shield her skin from the harsh sun was laughable. Her female cousins sneered with far too much glee, when she removed her sunbonnet revealing the tiny silver hairpins, which held her midnight locks in place.

"Pocha!" they snickered as she passed them into the waiting arms of her cousin Carlos. He forced a smile as he guided her down the narrow plaster hallway to what would be her reclusion from her family's prying eyes. With her things settled, Carlos eyed her with sad relief.

"You are more beautiful now, than last I saw you," he beamed kissing her cheek. "How is Jake and my little nieces?"

Teresa reached into her traveling valise and produced a silver framed picture. There they sat, a family of four, seeped in black and gray. Teresa sat with her hair half up, and Izzy sitting rather bored in her lap. Lucy sat swung over Jake's thigh with her little arm stretched up and around his neck.

"Ah," Carlos's expression softened. "You are all smiling."

This was the last shred of happiness Teresa would feel before she entered her aunt's sick room. 'Eres una nina muy tonta!' Her aunt's admonishment from all those years ago still stung deep down in her heart. Jake had asked her numerous times what her aunt had said, only to be refused with aching tears. Now as she came upon the woman who had once held so much sway with her, she froze. Even from this distance, she could tell that her tia was gone. Her lifeless arms remained unmoved at her sides. Fingers long and elegantly arched into the feathered down of her royal blue quilt. The upper half of her body was propped up on three large white pillows, deathly still and gone. Teresa closed her eyes with defeat. She was too late to make amends. Too late to say her farewells. Even in the finality of this moment, Teresa wouldn't have closure. As she reached out to caress her aunt's stilled hand, all she found was the rigid unmoving stiffness of rigor. Hanging her face in her hands with disbelief, she allowed herself to weep.

Teresa didn't crave their forgiveness or their company now. The only person she had wanted to mend her relationship with was gone. She owed the other's nothing. Her heart was with Jake, Lucy, and Izzy. Her life was in Colorado Springs with her family and friends. Wiping the tears away from her cheek, she approached her aunt. With a shaky hand, Teresa smoothed away the silvery curls from her aunt's forehead, where she gently pressed her lips. Backing away, she sighed.

"Pride kept you from meeting two of the most beautiful and wonder little girls, you would have ever known. Yes, it was true what they said about Jake. But you would have known him for the man he is today. A good man. A wonderful husband. A loving father," she was growing angry now, and her voice trembled with more tears. "But my girls haven't miss anything by not knowing these prideful people. There is a whole town of family that loves them. They have the most wonderful grandfather anyone could ever hope for! A town full of uncles, aunts, and cousins, who won't ridicule them and make them, feel small. . . . I am guilty of this pride as well. But I thank God that someone was able to open my eyes. I thank God that Guillermo brought me to Colorado Springs! From this moment on I will never look back."

Bowing her head in farewell, she turned pausing momentarily at the end of the bed.

"I love you. . .farewell mi tia. Farewell."

Now as she sat waiting for Carlos to take her to the telegraph office in town, she felt an odd tingling sensation emanating from her heart. Once Jake had told her when their children were born, he felt as though they were all attached to one another by an invisible silver thread. It bound them to one another, rooting their hearts as one. Teresa sighed feeling her thread aching for her children. Aching for Jake.

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The silence was palpable as they stood side by side, near Michaela's desk. Murmuring with vibration the rush of the town seeped through the walls, making them feel like they were under water. Jake and Lucy watched in alarmed silence as Michaela pressed the bronzed bell shaped knob of her stethoscope to Izzy's chest. Seconds ticked by in a slow procession, until she finally straightened from leaning over Izzy. Izzy remained on her back, sucking absently on her fingers as she stared up into Michaela's now smiling face. She rubbed the child's little chest as she reached for her glass thermometer. Gently, Michaela held the instrument up under Izzy's arm. Without taking her attentions from Izzy, Michaela addressed Jake.

"Izzy's a bit thinner than I'd like. What has she been eating lately?"

Jake cleared his throat nervously, "I've been tryin tah get her tah eat that infant food, Loren sells. She spits most of it up. So we've been feedin' her mashed foods."

"Are you still giving her milk?" Michaela removed the thermometer, holding it up to the light from the window. "Just as I thought. . . A slight fever. There's no need to panic just yet."

Jake immediately lifted Izzy up into his arms. "Teresa was givin' her milk from the cow. But we prepare it the way you told us too."

Michaela smiled as she crossed to her apothecary's shelf. Pulling a glass honey jar from the cherry wood ledge, she removed a small parchment pouch. It rustled with a crinkling sound as she handed it to Jake. "I want you to make a tea from these herbs and give it to Izzy before you put her down for the night."

Jake pressed Izzy's stomach to his chest as he soothed her back. He handed the parchment to Lucy, who pocketed it within the folds of her skirts. "Was it the infant food?"

"Partly, yes. Izzy is in transition from infant to toddler. She can start eating heartier but soft foods now. I suspect the fever is brought on from her working herself up," Michaela smiled crookedly, running her fingers through Izzy's autumn curls. She felt a gentle pang in her heart as she recalled being able to hold Katie, the way Jake was holding Izzy. Turning to grace Lucy with an encouraging expression, Michaela sighed, "you remind your father, Lucy. Don't let him forget Izzy's tea."

Lucy nodded up for the challenge. Jake rose dipping his thumb and forefinger into the small pocket of his vest. The thick metal coins clinked together as he dropped them into her open palm. "That cover it?"

She nodded opening the clinic's door for Lucy as she lifted her full basket and marched out to the walk. "When do you think Teresa will be coming home? Sometimes children act up when they know someone's missing."

"I can't get her tah sleep at night," Jake started as he paused in the doorway.

"Tuck her in with one of Teresa's shawls. That might help."

Jake nodded tipping his hat to her as he began to stroll out. As his gaze reached down the street, his eyes settled on the wide-open doorway of the mercantile. There she remained leaning against the wall, watching him. His mouth went dry as he turned back to Michaela.

"Dr. Mike?" his voice quivered with uncertainty.

"Yes, Jake?" her brows furrowed as she read the agitated and yet curious expression on his face. His mind seemed to be cycling with some kind of indecision, before he shook it all away.

"Never mind," Jake pressed his lips into a line of a smile. "Never mind."

As Jake and Lucy stepped down from the walk and into the bright spotlight of the sun, Michaela peered down the street to the mercantile, as Jake had. She saw the woman, the seamstress that Loren had hired. The woman's eyes followed Jake as he towed his children toward the wagon sitting just beyond the Gazette. Michaela rested her hands on her hips with an uneasy dismay. She was sure she wasn't witnessing what she thought she was. However, she couldn't shake the sudden nagging feeling, that something wasn't right. It was resolved in her mind before she ever closed the clinics door.