Dorothy and Grace waited until Jake had closed the door, before speaking.
"Grace, the only blood I can see is on her hands. Can you see anything?" Dorothy asked, her voice low.
"Well no but, maybe she hit her head or something?" Grace suggested, gently reaching her hand to the top of Michaela's head.
"Jake said," Dorothy paused, allowing Grace some time to take the possibility on board.
"Well, then why's she unconscious?" The two women looked up suddenly as Colleen burst into the room.
"Look, let me help. I know what to do." Colleen swallowed and checked Michaela's pulse and breathing. "It's fast but real faint. She's in shock," Colleen continued.
"Colleen, if Jake's right," Dorothy paused, not convinced that Michaela's daughter should be exposed to this.
"I know, but please, let me help her." Colleen stopped abruptly, noticing the blood on Michaela's hands. She quickly processed Dorothy's words, a dismayed look sweeping her face as she reached for the edge of Michaela's skirt.
"Quick, you gotta help me examine her," Colleen stated, her voice wavering, but determined.
"But, do you think we should?" Dorothy hesitated; this didn't feel right.
"If we don't, she could die," Colleen replied, as Grace and Dorothy gently lifted Michaela's skirt, gasping when they saw the blood staining her legs and clothing.
"Oh, sweet Jesus," Grace murmured, covering her mouth with her hand.
"We gotta stop the bleeding." Colleen didn't hesitate, reaching for a sheet and gauze as Dorothy and Grace removed Michaela's skirt, noticing the blood-soaked shreds of material. Colleen's jaw trembled as she began to take in the extent of the damage, drawing a breath and trying to control the bleeding with fresh gauze.
"I, I can't do anything. There's internal damage, she needs surgery." Colleen turned to the two ladies, tears streaming down her face.
"She's lost so much blood already," the young girl trailed off, checking Michaela's pulse again. "We gotta get a doctor here. Fast."
Dorothy nodded in response to Colleen's words.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Well, I told ya all so, don't know why you bothered," Hank spat, proud that his prediction had proved accurate.
"How can you say that?" Loren muttered, gesturing to the young boy who was sitting next to him on the bench.
"Mr. Bray, what's wrong with Ma?" Brian asked, concerned. Everyone was so angry.
"Well, ah, Jake?" Loren was lost for words, not wanting to have to discuss such matters with the little boy.
"Ah, Brian, maybe you'd better ask one of the women, all right? Dorothy'll talk to you about it." Jake looked physically uncomfortable and turned to face the Clinic door.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, stop mollycoddling the kid. He's gonna hear about it sooner or later. Brian, ya ma got violated by a pack of injuns." Hank tipped his head, seemingly pleased with himself. After all, he'd told it like it was.
"but," Brian looked confused, not understanding what Hank had said.
"Hank, get outa here, all right!" Matthew bellowed, crossing the verandah in confrontation.
"Whatever. Don't much care to stand around here with you bunch a cry babies." Hank stormed off, across the street to his Saloon. At that moment, the Clinic door opened, the Reverend, Jake and Loren stood up expectantly, immediately reading the dismal look on Dorothy's face.
"Colleen says she needs surgery. Oh, she she's lost so much blood, she," Dorothy couldn't hold the tears back any longer, as Loren gripped her upper arm supportively.
"But I didn't see no blood, I mean apart from what was on her hands," Jake trailed off, immediately realizing what Dorothy meant.
Everyone looked up as Horace came running from the telegraph office.
"He's coming! Dr Cassidy's coming from Denver! He'll be here on the Friday stage." Horace finished, catching his breath.
"That's two days away. Colleen said if we can't stop the bleeding she'll," Dorothy paused, fighting back tears.
"Come on. We got to wire Denver again. See if there's any way to get someone here sooner. Horace, let's go." Dorothy and Horace raced back towards the telegraph office.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Grace and Colleen were back in the Clinic, looking at each other awkwardly.
"What else can we do?" Grace asked, gently cleaning the blood and dirt from Michaela's face, hands and feet. Colleen shook her head, again checking Michaela's pulse and breathing.
"I don't know. I mean, she needs surgery to repair the damage," Colleen gasped when she noticed Michaela's right hand move.
"Ma! Ma, wake up," Colleen grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. Grace and Colleen hovered either side of Michaela, relieved when she eventually opened her eyes.
"Where," Michaela trailed off, slowly recognizing the two people standing next to her.
"Dr Mike, you're bleeding. I can't stop it. What, tell me what to do," Colleen whispered, the tears falling from her eyes once again.
Michaela took several moments, looking between Grace and Colleen, slowly orientating herself, a pained moan escaping her lips.
"Ma, please. Tell me what to do," Colleen begged, crying, as the door opened causing Michaela to startle.
"No," she whimpered, trying to move, but not having the strength.
"Stay still, Ma, it's only Miss Dorothy." Colleen reassured her, looking desperately at Dorothy for help.
"Oh, Dorothy, thank goodness. Quick you've got to do something." Grace pleaded, gesturing to Michaela's distressed state. Dorothy nodded, nervously approaching her friend.
Gently taking her hand, Dorothy spoke slowly, yet firmly.
"Michaela please, listen. Listen to me. We know you're hurt, we want to help. The doctor can't get here for two days, and we don't know what to do for you. I need you to think really hard, all right? How do we stop the bleeding?" Dorothy struggled to finish, overwhelmed by the extent of her friend's physical injuries.
"Sully," Michaela responded, suddenly remembering what had happened to him.
"We haven't found him, Michaela. Please, don't worry about that now. You need to tell us how to stop the bleeding." Dorothy knew this was pointless, she couldn't get through to her.
"Sully. He, he killed him," Michaela whispered, struggling to stay awake. Her face was deathly pale, and her hands cold to the touch. Grace, Colleen and Dorothy locked eyes, Dorothy, however, determined to get some sense out of her.
"Michaela, listen. Stay with us, don't close your eyes. Now tell me, how do we stop the bleeding?" Dorothy spoke again, her voice stronger and louder.
Michaela recognized the third person standing next to her. She couldn't understand what was going on, though. She knew she was in the Clinic but didn't know how she'd gotten there. She felt tired, as she tried to sort through the events of the last few days. She couldn't focus on anything though. She felt a heavy ache radiating from below her stomach, she remembered feeling excruciating pain, and seeing all the blood.
"Dr Mike, please. Ma, please help me!" Colleen sobbed, running from the room distraught when she didn't get a response. Michaela tried again to move, gripping the edge of the table, trying to pull herself upright.
"Michaela, no, stay still." Dorothy gently grasped her upper arms, trying to stop her moving.
"No, I have to," She resisted Dorothy's touch, however unable to fight back.
"Hush, it's all right. Tell us what to do." Dorothy let go of her arms, when she realized Michaela had stopped moving.
"Sully," she whispered, giving up and allowing her eyes to drop closed once again.
"Come on, Michaela, wake up," Dorothy squeezed her upper arms, trying to rouse her.
Grace shook her head, not knowing how to help.
"If she can't tell us what to do, she's gonna bleed to death in two days," Dorothy spoke to Grace, trying frantically to get an answer from her.
"Michaela! Michaela! Come on! Tell us!" Dorothy continued, her voice much louder by this stage. Dorothy noticed the medical bag on the desk near them; she had an idea. Dorothy raised her voice even louder.
"Dr Quinn! We need your help! Dr Quinn!" Dorothy smiled across at Grace as Michaela opened her eyes, a look of concerned interest crossing her face.
Michaela heard her name, seemingly coming from a long way away. She struggled to open her eyes against the enticing blackness.
"What?" she trailed off, weak, but determined to stay conscious. Someone was hurt. She was a doctor, she had to help.
"Dr Quinn, we've got severe internal bleeding, how do we stop it?" Dorothy demanded, dropping the volume of her voice slightly, as Michaela had responded.
"Suture it." Michaela's voice was soft, finally giving in and letting her eyelids drop once again.
"We can't. How else do we stop it?" Dorothy continued, shaking Michaela's arm, hoping desperately for a reply. She waited, looking between Grace and Michaela.
"Dr Quinn! How do we stop it!" Dorothy yelled one final time, she wasn't about to give up when she was this close.
"Pressure, packing. Stop the bleeding. Ice," Michaela whispered in a long, fragmented sentence.
Dorothy released her grasp on Michaela's arm, stroking her forehead tenderly. "All right, everything will be all right. Just rest, Michaela." Dorothy and Grace exchanged smiles.
"I'll go to the ice house." Grace left the room quickly, Dorothy discreetly adjusted the white sheet from Michaela's legs, pushing her feelings of discomfort aside; her friend's life depended on it. Taking a breath, she checked the gauze Colleen had packed internally. Dorothy reached for fresh gauze, followed Michaela's instructions and packed them firmly on against the original ones, ensuring they were compressed tightly enough so as to stop any continued flow of blood.
"I, I'm sorry," Colleen crept silently back into the room, dried tears staining her face.
Dorothy looked up and nodded compassionately.
"It's all right, sweetheart. We managed to wake your ma up. She said something about pressure, and packing and that we needed ice?" Dorothy checked with Colleen. The young girl nodded, hesitantly reaching forwards to Michaela's neck to check her pulse.
Colleen blinked, seeing the fine scratch marks on her mother's neck.
"Right. Pressure applied to the internal packing should help the blood to clot. So should the ice. If we put some in a cloth and place it on her lower abdomen, it should help reduce the blood flow." Colleen tentatively examined the packing, relieved that the flow of blood seemed greatly reduced.
"Let's just hope we can stop it." She swallowed, relieved when Grace hurried back into the room with the ice. The three women worked together to place the cold compress on Michaela's lower abdomen and routinely ensured there was no further blood soaking through the packing.
"Should we get her into a nightgown or something?" Grace questioned, noticing the tattered, dirty and blood-stained remnants of Michaela's blouse, chemise and skirt.
"Yeah, carefully though." Colleen nodded, heading upstairs to the wardrobe where there was a range of spare clothes.
"Grace, look at this," Dorothy sighed, as she delicately slipped Michaela's arms from her blouse, the bruises and finger marks on her upper body obvious against her pale white flesh.
"We can't let Colleen see this, she's still only a young girl." Grace shook her head; gently removing the torn chemise, pulling the sheet up to cover Michaela's bruised and defiled body.
"Here." Colleen quickly re-entered the room, nightgown in hand, approaching the examination table.
"Colleen, we'll do it. Maybe you should wait outside with your brothers," Dorothy whispered, moving in front of her as she reached to take the nightgown.
"But I," Colleen trailed off, not understanding.
"Miss Dorothy's right, sweetheart. There are some things you're still too young to see," Grace finished, watching the blonde girl's face look between Grace, Dorothy and finally Michaela, her eyes lowering in comprehension of Grace's words.
"Please, if you need me," she whispered, giving them one final glance before opening the Clinic door and quickly leaving.
Colleen heard everyone get to their feet expectantly before she'd even looked up. Closing the door softly, she turned, looking awkwardly between Jake and Matthew.
"We managed to stop the bleeding, they're just getting her changed and then we'll move her upstairs." She waited, time suddenly moving very slowly.
"Can I see her. Please?" Brian rushed up to Colleen trying to get past her.
"In a little while, Brian. What do you say we go find some gum drops for you?" Loren took the boy's hand, trying to pull him away.
"No! Please, let me stay. Please," he begged, squirming from Mr. Bray's grasp.
"So, what do we do now?" Matthew finally broke the silence, looking around at the solemn faces.
"I don't know. Wait, I suppose," the Reverend replied, idly running his fingers along the gold trimmed pages of the bible he carried in his right hand.
"Anyone fancy a drink while they're waiting," Hank had joined the group quietly, no-one aware of his presence until they heard his husky voice.
"You were told to leave us, Hank." Loren groused, gesturing with a wave of his arm for him to depart.
"Fine, if that's the way you feel about it. Ain't gonna stay where I'm not wanted. 'Sides more fun in the meadow, Custer's getting ready to finish off those injuns." Hank chuckled, seemingly surprised when he received everyone's immediate attention.
"What? You mean? Come on!" Matthew encouraged the men to move.
"Maybe it's for the best," Jake shrugged, looking over towards the closed door.
"You mean after everything that's happened, he's still gonna go through with the hangings?" Colleen asked, her voice rich with utter disbelief.
"Yeah, well, probably the right thing to do," Loren shrugged, looking between the men for support.
Matthew frowned, quickly understanding what he meant.
"This ain't right," Matthew argued.
"Mr Slicker, you gotta stop this!" Colleen pleaded.
Loren and Jake looked to the Reverend for his opinion.
"Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. There are innocent women and children over there."
Loren and Jake exchanged glances.
"Dr Mike wouldn't want this, Loren. You know she wouldn't," Matthew insisted.
"Right. Come on," Jake gestured for the men to move. They headed quickly for the meadow, leaving Matthew, Colleen and Brian huddled together by the bench.
"Come on, our place is inside," Matthew muttered, heading for the door, knocking lightly. Dorothy admitted them quickly, Brian racing immediately to Michaela's side.
"Ma?" he tugged on her arm lightly, disappointed when he didn't get a response.
"Brian, she's sleeping at the moment. Just hold her hand, all right?" Grace stroked the top of the boy's head softly. Brian did as he was instructed, able to smell the freshly laundered nightdress as he nuzzled his head against her lower arm.
"Matthew, can you carry her upstairs, we'll put her in a recovery room until Dr Cassidy gets here," Dorothy requested, sympathetic to how traumatic this must be for the children.
"Well, sure, but is it all right to move her?" He muttered, fidgeting with his hands in front of him nervously.
"We can't leave her down here for two days, besides the bleeding seems to have subsided. Just move her gently." Dorothy rested her hand supportively on his back, as Matthew drew a breath and went to Michaela's side, lifting her from the table, crossing the room to the other door, as Brian retained his grasp on her hand.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Making their way rapidly down the main street towards the meadow, Jake and the other men watched as General Custer and his soldiers led four Indians up the stairs towards the gallows.
"Wait! This isn't necessary!" Jake yelled, quickly arriving at the General's side.
"Mind your own business, this is not your concern!" Custer brushed him off, pacing in front of the gallows, nodding with approval as the Indians were lined up over the trap doors.
"General, there really isn't any need for this, Dr Mike's been returned, we found her this morning. She's in the Clinic right now," the Reverend tried his best to sway the General from the course of action he seemed hell-bent on taking.
"Reverend, as I previously mentioned to you, I appreciate your religious objections, however these savages don't share them. Now, please leave me to get on with the task I'm here for." Custer did not seem to hear Timothy's words.
"But, you said if Dr Mike was returned, you'd call off the executions." Jake reminded him, not convinced he'd keep to his word. Custer paused, as if slowly stringing each of Jake's words together to form meaning.
"You found her?" He cleared his throat, almost not believing them.
"Yes. Early this morning. She's in the Clinic." Jake reiterated the Reverend's words.
"I see. You won't mind if I verify this for myself, I trust?" He smirked, crossing the meadow, the small group of men trailing behind him.
"Well, no, of course not," Jake finished, pausing to gather the men around him.
"Keep your mouths shut, right? He knows what really happened, and we've got a town full of dead women and children." Jake hissed, receiving silent agreement from the group, who quickly increased their pace to catch up with Custer.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"She's unconscious!" Custer bellowed, entering the upstairs recovery room looking between Michaela's body and the group of townspeople.
"Well, yes, but I assure you, she's perfectly fine. She was awake earlier weren't she, Dorothy. Dorothy?" Jake prodded, nudging the stunned woman slightly, communicating everything he needed to with a stern glare.
"Oh, oh, yes. Um, it seems she sustained a blow to the head. We've wired for the nearest doctor from Denver, but everything's under control." Dorothy glanced back at the General her facial expression never revealing the façade.
"Well, it appears you've no use for us after all." Custer retorted.
The few minutes that followed were tension-filled, as the General carefully eyeballed each person in the small room, before turning and swiftly exiting with an audible huff.
"Oh, thank God that worked! I thought for a minute he weren't going to believe," Jake trailed off, noticing Michaela's head move slightly.
"Ma!" Brian squealed, clutching her arm tighter, overjoyed. Nobody moved a muscle, all eyes oscillated between Brian and Michaela, the room deathly silent. Brian's was the only voice that could be heard, his determination eventually paying off.
"Ma, wake up, it's me, Brian. Please wake up!" He shook her arm, smiling when she eventually opened her eyes. The eight adults standing held their breath, not knowing where to look, fortunately once again, Brian handled the awkward moment.
"Hey Ma, it's me. Miss Dorothy and Miss Grace fixed you up, Colleen helped too. I was real worried, but Matthew promised you'd be all right." He did not notice her disconcerted gaze at the sea of faces around her.
"I think we should leave," Robert E. murmured, the entire room seeming to jump at the sound of his voice. After most of the men cleared their throats in uneasiness, Loren, being closest to the door, left, everyone following until only Brian and Dorothy remained.
"Brian, come on, your ma needs her rest," Dorothy attempted to usher the boy from the room, but he wasn't moving, merely leaning in closer, carefully inspecting the various cuts and bruises on Michaela's face.
"Does your face hurt, Ma? I remember when I fell outa the tree and hurt my head. That was real bad," he trailed off, as she moved her head again.
"Brian," Michaela whispered, her voice low but clear.
"Yeah, Ma, it's me," he beamed, crawling onto the edge of the bed.
"I," Michaela couldn't get the words out, feeling tears once again fall from her eyes, as she tenderly stroked the boy's fine, blond hair.
"Ma, why ya crying? You can come home with us now," Brian looked bewilderedly between Michaela and Dorothy.
"I, I'm just happy to see you," Michaela whispered, not expecting the young boy to engulf her in a tight hug.
"I sure missed ya, Ma," Brian wrapped his arms around her waist snugly, head pressed tightly against her abdomen, not spotting the look of anguish cross her face.
"Brian, no!" Dorothy called, reaching forward and pulling the young boy back, startling him.
"But I was just," he looked mortified, noticing Michaela's eyes fall closed once again. Dorothy heaved him off the bed.
"It's all right, just wait outside for a moment, dear." She led him to the door, closing it quickly behind him.
"Michaela, I'm sorry, are you all right?" Dorothy reached for her hand, dismayed when the woman did not respond.
"Michaela?" She tried once again, however to no avail.
Sighing, Dorothy left the room, finding Brian halfway down the corridor slumped on the floor against the wall.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed, his voice choked up.
"Oh, it's not your fault, Brian. You weren't to know not to hug her. It's just, well her stomach's sore at the moment, and I was just a little worried you'd hurt her." Dorothy helped the child to his feet, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, wiping his tear-stained face.
"I, didn't know." He stopped crying, his jaw trembling slightly. Dorothy thought it wise to change the subject for a while.
"I'm sorry everyone seemed to forget about your birthday, Brian," she consoled.
"That's ok. I got everything I wanted," Brian smiled.
"You did?" Dorothy asked, forcing a smile.
"Yeah. I got my Ma back," he replied without missing a beat. She bent down to the little boy, engulfing him in a hug.
"You are a very thoughtful, unselfish boy, Brian. Your Ma's lucky to have a son like you." Dorothy squeezed his arm affectionately, noticing him look towards the recovery room.
"Miss Dorothy, is she gonna get better?" Brian whispered, staring down at the floor.
"I hope so, Brian. We just gotta pray that Dr Cassidy gets here as soon as he can." Dorothy sighed, tidying up the boy's misplaced hair.
"So he can make her stop bleeding?" Brian continued.
"That's right." Dorothy paused, knowing that Michaela's physical ordeal was only going to play a small part in her complete recovery.
"Miss Dorothy, why can't Colleen fix her? Or Jake, he used to fix everyone before Ma came." Brian frowned.
"Because she needs a proper doctor, Brian. She has to have an operation to stop the bleeding." Dorothy felt awkward discussing this with the young boy, just talking about it made her remember all the blood she'd seen.
"Miss Dorothy, what did Jake mean before? What's violetted?" Brian reached into his pocket and found some taffy, popping it into his mouth as he waited for a response.
"You mean violated, Brian?" She cleared her throat awkwardly, hoping that someone would come into the corridor and distract them.
"Yeah, what Jake said happened to Ma. Is that why she had all the blood on her hands and scratches on her face?" He questioned, finishing off his piece of candy.
"Well, ah, Brian," she hesitated, knowing that given the circumstances, this was something he was only going to hear more about over the upcoming weeks.
"Brian, did your ma tell you ah, about the birds and the bees?" Dorothy waited, kneeling down in front of the young boy.
"No, but I know where babies come from. What's that got to do with Ma?" He queried.
"Well, ah, tell me what you know." Dorothy ran her hand through her hair, wishing she didn't have to have this conversation. Brian looked away, scuffing his feet on the ground.
"Ermm, I don't wanna, it's, it's embarrassin'." He refused to look to her.
"No, it's all right, you can talk about it with me." Dorothy smiled, nodding affirmatively.
"Well, it's like with animals. When the ma and pa get married, they sleep in the same bed and they hug and kiss, and well, you know; the pa puts… into the ma," Brian trailed off looking thoroughly uncomfortable, however managing to convince Dorothy that he understood.
"Well, now Brian, sometimes men do that with a woman when they're not married." She held his hands tightly, watching him take in her words.
"You mean like Hank's girls at the Saloon? The entertainin'?" Brian quickly replied, interested, however still not sure what this had to do with his Ma.
"Exactly. And well, sometimes, sometimes bad things can happen to women, Brian. Sometimes men do that to a woman when she doesn't want to. That's called rape, Brian. And when a woman's been raped, people say she's been violated." Dorothy's voice lowered, trying to come to terms with what her best friend must have endured.
Brian remained silent, digging his hands into his pockets, looking between the floor and Dorothy.
"Oh." Brian looked suitably concerned, although was not able to come close to fully understanding the emotional impact.
"It'll be all right, Brian. Dr Cassidy will get here and he'll make her better. And then, we just all gotta be there for her, to help her get through what happened." Dorothy felt the tears well up in her eyes, as she tightened her grip around the boy.
"What do you say we go sit with your ma for awhile, Brian?" Dorothy smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Brian nodded firmly, taking her hand.
They stepped into the room where Michaela lay sleeping. Brian carefully approached the bed, and brushed the hair back off his mother's face, very careful not to actually touch the bed again.
"It'll be all right, Ma, you'll see," Brian spoke softly to her, beginning to hum several bars of his favorite lullaby.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Grace dusted the front of her dress off, picking up the tray and making her way across the street to the clinic. Arriving at the porch, she acknowledged the handful of men still lurking outside, Robert E. opening the door for her.
"Thank-you," Grace whispered, with a smile, turning as she heard Hank's raspy voice.
"You're wastin' your time," he snarled, retrieving an apple from his pocket and carefully cutting into it with a knife.
"Don't pay no attention to him, Grace." The Reverend nodded, closing the door behind her, as he turned back to the group.
"Hank, I thought you were asked to leave?" Timothy leaned up against the clinic door, looking between Jake and Loren for approval.
"A man can go where he pleases. 'Sides, my place's deader than a graveyard, no-one's in a drinkin' mood. The girls are all off in their rooms sulking." He shook his hair back from his face.
"Well if you're gonna stand there, just keep your comments to yourself." Jake muttered, folding his arms.
"Where's Horace?" Robert E. attempted to change the subject, noticing the one person absent from the group.
"He said he's stayin' in the telegraph office 'til the Doctor gets here, in case there's any update." Jake answered, watching as the light began to fade from the street, and a chill was felt in the air.
"Can't really believe it, you know? Like the last week's been some horrible nightmare," Matthew murmured, not being able to shake the feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.
"Try not to worry too much, Matthew. You'll have to stay in town for a few days anyway, at least until Dr Mike recovers." Timothy consoled, patting the young man's shoulder supportively.
"But what if she," Matthew stopped himself mid-sentence.
"Don't think that, lad. She'll be fine, you'll see. If anyone's strong enough to get through this, it's Dr Mike," Loren contributed, his jaw firm emphasizing the confidence he felt in his words.
"Yeah, but given everything that's happened, all the gossip, maybe it woulda been better." Jake didn't continue either, receiving simultaneous glares of disapproval from the Reverend, Robert E. and Loren.
"You can't say that," Matthew reacted, the raw anger in his voice silencing everyone in the room; well, almost everyone.
"Sure he can. Seems any decent woman woulda killed herself 'fore she laid down with the red man." Hank speared the knife into the first half of his apple, biting into it noisily.
"Hank!" Jake, and the Reverend bellowed simultaneously, Robert E. being the closest to Matthew, managing to pull him off Hank as he threw a ferocious punch. Everyone remained silent for several moments, as Matthew caught his breath and calmed down.
"I can't stand this, standin' around like someone's died. There must be something we can do," Loren trailed off, shaking his head.
"Well, there ain't nothin'. We killed all the dog soldiers." Jake looked between Loren, Robert E., and Matthew.
"How many you reckon there were?" Loren speculated tentatively.
"Five or six when we first got there. Couple more came out when we started shooting," Jake answered.
"How many you get, Jake?" Loren muttered.
"Two, maybe three, I weren't coutin'. Just kept firing until they stopped moving. What about you?" Jake looked back at Loren.
"One or two," Loren muttered.
"Don't reckon Horace got any," Jake couldn't help but snigger.
"Sounds like his record's gettin' worse!" Hank laughed, seeing the glare on Matthew's face.
"I don't wanna stand around and listen to this!" Matthew grabbed his hat off the bench and stormed back inside.
The group fell silent as Matthew left.
"Cry baby," Hank observed. "Bet he didn't get any!"
"What about you Robert E.?" Jake turned back around, aware that the Blacksmith had not spoken one word the entire time he'd been standing there.
"Three. Don't much wanna talk about it neither," Robert E. shook his head and dusted his cap off with his hand.
"Wonder what happened to Sully? He said he was gonna find her," Jake pondered.
"Well, obviously he didn't." Hank munched his apple, finishing the second half in one mouthful.
"He could still be out there; hurt. He could be," The Reverend silently prayed that there was some other explanation.
"Don't even say it," Jake finished, taking a deep breath.
Everyone looked up as the clinic door opened and Grace stepped out, carrying Michaela's clothes, wrapped up in a blood-stained sheet.
"Take care a this lot, will you Robert E.?" she murmured carefully handling him the bundle.
"Will do," he cleared his throat, and turned to head back to the livery.
Loren looked over to Jake glumly.
"Need a hand Robert E.?" Jake offered.
"Ah no," the Blacksmith answered somberly.
Hank looked down as he idly kicked a stone with his shoe, no-one knowing what to say in that moment.