"Another one?" Hank tilted the bottle of whiskey in front of Eli's face, filling up the shot glass when he nodded affirmatively.
"Think I might need to be seeing that doctor tomorrow, after all," Eli held his right arm protectively against his side.
"Didn't go too well, then? Didn't get your story?" Hank poured himself a drink, turning a chair around to sit next to Eli at the table.
"No, stupid kid damn near broke my arm. Weren't like I was causing nobody any trouble, just wanted a friendly chat." Eli polished off his fourth glass, frustrated.
"Yeah, how about I fix you up with a little company. Myra? Myra, git in here!" Hank hollered, frustrated when she didn't arrive promptly.
"What, Hank?" Myra appeared in the doorway leading through to their rooms.
"Show Mr. Woods here a little companionship, he's had a tough day," Hank motioned for Myra to cross the room to the table.
"I dunno Hank, I'm feelin' kinda tired. Didn't sleep right last night," Myra hesitated, not in the mood for entertaining.
"Enough of your squawkin', get over here!" He yelled, striding across the room, and pulling her roughly by the arm.
"There. Just take him back to your room and cheer him up a bit," Hank helped Eli to his feet, Myra reluctantly wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of them managed to get Eli into Myra's room, sitting him down on the edge of the bed. Hank turned to leave.
"Hank, I don't feel right about doing this, neither do the other girls, We just ain't in the mood these last few days," Myra resisted.
"I don't give a damn what mood you're in. He's a good customer, and I expect him to be well taken care of," Hank trailed off, noticing that Eli had fallen onto his side and was now snoring lightly.
"Sounds like he's comfortable enough to me." Myra delicately placed a pillow under his head, her and Hank stepping out into the corridor.
"So, what's all this trouble with you? You ain't sick again, are you?" Hank was fed up with Myra's whining recently. She was either sick, tired, or found some other excuse to shy away from business these last few days.
"Well, no. I just don't much feel like working, what with Dr Mike so sick and all, doesn't seem right us all over here acting like nothin's happened." Myra pulled her shawl around her shoulders, Hank leaning against the wooden wall.
"What you talkin' about, she's fine. Few cuts and scratches was all I saw. Don't really know what all the fuss is about." Hank folded his arms, sick of women being so delicate.
"Hank, you heard what Jake said. It just ain't right something like that happening, not to her. She's always done everything she could to try an' help the Indians." Myra looked up at Hank for a reaction.
"Somethin' like what? Any woman'd give herself away like that, deserves what she gets," Hank shrugged, missing the point entirely.
"Hank, how can you say that? It's not like she had a choice!" Myra was appalled at his casual musings.
"'Course she did. It's like you said, she was always helping the Injuns, probably been wantin' it for years. No wonder she never settled down proper, obviously the white man's not her style," Hank shifted his weight, everything seeming to make sense to him now.
"You make it sound like she slept with him willingly! He raped her, Hank! Surely you can understand that?" Myra paused, studying Hank's eyes.
"Or maybe you can't?" Myra looked at him for several moments, trying to read his face.
Hank remained quiet.
"You don't know the difference, do you?" Myra spoke very slowly, her voice quiet and evenly-paced.
"Course I do," Hank shrugged, embarrassed at the serious way she was looking at him.
"No, you don't. You never have," Myra moved down the corridor to another girls' room.
"Suzie, can you come watch out front? Hank and I need to have a chat," Myra called, the young blondw woman joining them in the corridor after a moment.
"Sure," she gestured that they were welcome to use her room, heading through the doorway into the Saloon.
"Hank, come with me, I need to talk to you," Myra gazed up at him warmly, resting a hand on his arm as he relented and entered the empty room.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Closing the door, Hank rested comfortably on the bed, not being able to resist smirking at Myra.
"I thought you were feelin' tired," Hank raised an eyebrow, surprised when Myra crossed the room, sitting on a chair in front of the dresser.
"Hank, I said I wanted to talk to you, and I meant talk." Myra sighed, waiting for Hank to drop the smirk from his face.
"Talk, Myra? I didn't hire you for your conversational ability," Hank scoffed.
"That's it, Hank, you hired me. I chose to work for you, to belong to you. The way you're acting about Dr Mike just ain't right." Myra paused, trying to think of how to explain this to someone like Hank.
"I don't see what everyone's makin' such a fuss over, 'bout time she had a man, although an Injun's not exactly what I had in mind," Hank chuckled, being cut off sharply by Myra.
"Hank! Now, I know it's not what you feel, and maybe it's not what I do either, but for some people being with someone like that means a lot. The men I see here day in day out, some of 'em feel right guilty about going behind their wives' backs. And I know, since I've been with Horace, that being with him as a wife won't compare to what you make me do." Myra looked up, reassured that she had maintained Hank's attention, a very difficult thing to do at the best of times.
"Well, Michaela ain't married, so it ain't like she was going behind anyone's back." Hank struggled with the concept, although clearly not objectionable to discussing the matter further.
"No, you're right, Hank, she's not, but I imagine she woulda liked to be one day. I don't expect you to understand this, Hank, but for most women, being with someone like that is something very special. Something you do only with one person; your husband." Myra again observed the effect her words were having on Hank, although he'd wiped the smile from his face, he was still grappling with several elements.
"Well that's just dumb. Something like that, why'd you wanna limit yourself to the same boring person? I mean, ya know I'm fond of ya Myra, but I also enjoy bein' with the other girls," Hank smiled again, looking around Suzie's room.
"That's fine for you, Hank, but most women don't. Most people believe it's something you share with just one person. But that's not what I needed to talk to you about, Hank. I wanted to talk to you about well, having to be with someone when you don't wanna be. Albeit it's more of an issue for women than for men. Hank, who's the woman you've loved most in your life, honestly?" Myra raised an eyebrow, indicating that she expected Hank to seriously consider her question.
He was about to answer quickly, however paused and thought for several moments.
"Clarice," he whispered, being reminded of the time he'd spend with her and their son before she died.
"Hank, please think real careful for a moment. How'd you feel if she was kidnapped, taken away from you and Zack by a group of dog soldiers. How'd you feel sittin' around here on your own on a dark night, knowin' she was out there, scared, being held with a knife to her throat, and taken against her will," Myra stopped, realizing she'd struck a chord with Hank. He attempted to refute the effect her words had had on him, embarrassed by the emotional reaction welling inside him.
"Yeah but that's Clarice; Zack's ma." Hank muttered, noticeably disturbed.
Myra cut him off, softly. "Dr Mike is Brian's ma. He's already lost one ma, how do you think he's gonna be able to cope with what's happened?" Myra knew, although Hank would never admit it, he'd become closer to the young boy since he'd been working for him.
Although angry at him for going back on his deal to sell Brian the horse he'd promised him, Myra understood that for Hank, money was still something he found too difficult to pass up.
She understood him as a man in which, despite there being good inside of him trying to push it's way to the surface, it rarely seemed to have the strength to fight through the bad.
"But she ain't dead Myra," Hank retorted, turning his right hand palm up in front of him in dispute.
"Physically, no, but her heart's been broke, Hank, and believe me, I know what that feels like." Myra expected him to interject, and glanced tentatively up at him when he gave no verbal response. She was somewhat taken aback to see him patiently listening to her. Drawing a breath, Myra decided to continue her story.
"I've never told you this Hank, but before I came to work for you. Back when I was livin' in Denver, just after my folks died. Was at home, lookin' after my little sisters when a man came to the door. He tried to make out like he was a friend of my pa's, although obviously had no idea they were dead, figured out pretty quick he was just looking for an excuse to get inside. Soon as he realized were just me home with the youngin's, he was all over me, weren't nothing I could do, threatened to hurt the girls if I resisted. Hank, I know what being scared feels like. Being so scared you'd almost wish yourself dead than," she trailed off. "Only thing stoppin' me from fightin' was my sisters. I knew they needed me. That after losing our parents they had no-one else," Myra swallowed, eventually daring to look up at Hank.
When her eyes finally rested on his face, she saw a warmth, a softness she'd never seen before. Not knowing whether it had been her mention of Clarice or herself, Myra realized she'd struck a nerve somewhere inside that armor of sarcasm, hatred and greed.
"Hank?" she whispered, after a significant silence. Quietly standing, she sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to take his hand. When he pulled away, she glanced up, worried she'd made him uncomfortable.
"Oh, Hank," Myra saw his eyes glisten with tears, Hank immediately looking away from her, embarrassed.
"Hank, it's all right to show people how you feel sometimes, ya know. Real friends won't think any the less of ya," Myra smiled softly. Still refusing to meet her eyes, he stood, the sound of his boots creaking on the floorboards the only sound that could be heard, until he eventually spoke, his voice deep and husky.
"I, I'm sorry Myra," he cleared his throat, heading towards the door.
"Hank, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. I know you and Dr Mike have your differences, know she gets right under your skin sometimes, but surely you could understand how bad you'd feel if some reporter started writin' all about me, or Clarice like that, can't you?" Myra waited, dismayed when Hank did not reply, silently opening the door and leaving her alone in the room.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Happily sitting on the floor playing checkers with Colleen, Brian had spent the afternoon with Michaela and Dorothy, feeling much more reassured about everything he'd heard prior to lunch. Having been chastised by Matthew and Colleen for disappearing, they'd long since forgiven him, and, after a talk with Dorothy, had decided he wasn't to be excluded from Michaela; just supervised. Grace had joined them for supper, and they'd eaten picnic-style in the recovery room, along with Dorothy and Matthew, almost feeling like a normal family again.
"You won again!" Colleen giggled; Brian was too good for her. After beating her three times in a row, Colleen decided it was probably time to call it a night.
"Time to turn in, all right Brian?" she smiled, helping him put away the checkers board.
"Aw, do I have to?" he protested, not feeling tired.
"Yes, you do. Come on, you can sleep in your old room. Matthew and I'll be right next-door downstairs." Colleen put the checkerboard on the corner table, watching as Brian kissed everyone goodnight.
"The doctor'll be here in the morning, Ma. Then we can all go home." Brian hugged Michaela, who kissed him softly on the head.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," Michaela replied, trying to match his level of enthusiasm, however not quiet managing it.
"Night, Miss Dorothy." Brian hugged the other woman, who'd just draped a blanket over her chair, settling in for another awkward night's sleep.
"Goodnight, Brian," she returned the hug, smiling as the children left the room, Colleen closing the door behind them.
"Dorothy, you really don't have to sleep there all night." Michaela gestured to the incredibly uncomfortable-looking chair.
"That's all right, Michaela. I'll stay with you, just in case." Dorothy honestly didn't mind, after all, Michaela'd been in her shoes numerous times with patients, it was the least she could do.
"No really, you take the bed next door, I'll be fine," Michaela proposed.
"You're sure?" Dorothy relished the thought of a soft bed and warm sheets, however, wasn't convinced.
"I will be fine," Michaela reassured her, settling down against the pillows, smoothing the quilt out in front of her.
"Well I'll just be next door. You call if you need me, ya hear?" Dorothy ordered, ensuring Michaela had a fresh glass of water by her bed and was comfortable.
"I will," Michaela insisted, smiling as Dorothy eventually left the room. Hearing the sounds of the children preparing for bed, Michaela smiled softly to herself and let her eyes drop closed to sleep.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Matthew, can you turn the lamp in the hallway down, please?" Colleen tucked Brian into bed, kissing his forehead.
"You sleep well, and no more hiding under beds," she groused jokingly, watching as Brian rearranged his head on the pillow until he was comfortable.
"Night, Colleen," he spoke softly, closing his eyes. Colleen crept quietly from the room, closed the door, and approached Matthew in the corridor.
"Thanks," she indicated the dimly lit lamps.
"What a day! Almost like living back here with Ma, ain't it?" He smiled, this had been his home for the five years between his father leaving and his mother dying.
"Yeah, but will be good to get home again. Good when everything gets back to normal." Colleen opened the bedroom door next to Brian's.
"That might take longer than a few weeks, Colleen. You get a good night's rest, I'll nap in the exam room cot, just make sure that reporter doesn't try anything." Matthew waited until Colleen had settled herself into the room before leaving the corridor.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Despite tossing and turning for at least twenty minutes, Brian had finally almost drifted to sleep when he heard the unmistakable sound of horses approaching. Swiftly pushing the quilt back and running to the door, he bounded into Matthew who'd also heard the noise.
"Think it's the men back, Matthew?" Brian looked up hopefully, Matthew making his way to the Clinic door.
"We'll soon see, won't we?" Matthew stepped out onto the porch, squinting to see the identity of the riders on the group of horses.
"It's Wolf! And Robert E., and Mr. Bray, they're back!" Brian squealed, running to meet up with the slowing horses.
"Matthew, you're gonna have to give us a hand here, help us get him inside," Loren gestured to Robert E. on the horse behind him.
"Oh my God!" Matthew gasped, running to Robert E.'s side, as they pulled the man's unconscious body from the horse.
"Get him inside, don't think there's much we can do." Jake had dismounted his horse and joined Matthew in carrying the body into the Clinic.
"I'll get the horses back to the livery," Robert E. contributed, watching as all the men crowded around the porch of the Clinic.
"Just keep your voices low; Dr Mike finds out about this, she'll be wantin' to help, and Miss Dorothy said she's to stay in bed," Matthew instructed everyone quickly hushing.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Hank looked up from the poker game he was involved in, hearing the horses.
"Sounds like the men are back." He got to his feet, moving quickly to the doorway. Almost immediately finding Myra and Suzie at his side, Hank pushed the doors open, running across to the group of men.
"Any luck?" he questioned, addressing Horace as he climbed down from his horse.
"Well we found him. Too early to say though." Horace quickly joined the men inside, Hank lingered out on the porch, curiously.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Inside, the Reverend prayed by the man's body, Jake looked for any sign of injury, and Matthew worried about keeping everyone quiet. He turned to the small boy who was clinging to his side.
"Brian, I want you to very, very quietly go and get Colleen, we need her help." Matthew bent down to the boy's side whispering.
"What about Ma?" Brian whispered.
"No, we gotta let her rest. Now go get Colleen. Make sure you whisper, Brian." Matthew held his finger to his lips reminding the small boy. Watching as Brian stepped into the corridor out of sight, Matthew returned his attention to the group of men looking at him for direction.
"Colleen can take a look at him. Doc Cassidy'll be here in the morning anyway." Matthew noticed Hank hovering around the doorway.
"What you think you're doing here?" he questioned, still furious at him for his part in the day's incidents with Eli.
"Just wanted to see if they'd found anything. Is there anything I can do?" Hank's voice had softened, he seemed genuinely concerned.
"Yeah, get back to that Saloon of yours and stay there. You've got a hell of a nerve showing your face after what you set up today." Matthew sneered, waving his hand in the direction of Hank's business.
"I, I'm sorry about that. Won't happen again, you've got my word." Hank straightened his tie, uncomfortable with having to express his feelings.
"Just get lost, Hank and take that creature with you before I really get angry." Matthew looked across the street as Eli Woods, very much recovered from his previous drinking, strode keenly towards them.
"Don't you worry, I'll take care of him." Hank reached his hand to his holster, turning to confront the reporter.
"Nothin' to see here, Eli," Hank commanded, blocking the man's view into the Clinic.
"Well, all appearances point to the contrary. Seems the townsmen have returned. Tell me, did they manage to find this Sully character?" Eli reached for his notebook, Hank ripping it from him in anger.
"I told you, you're not welcome here. Now git!" Hank drew his gun, resting it by his side threateningly.
"What's all this about, Hank? I thought we had an understanding. After all, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." He jingled some coins in his pocket.
"Well, I changed my mind," Hank replied, Matthew cutting him off.
"You were told to leave, as you've been told many times. You got some problem with ya hearin'?" Matthew placed his hands on his hips, surprised by Hank's dramatic change in attitude, however grateful.
"Hey I'm just trying to do a job here," Eli stepped closer, struggling to see past the men.
"No, I think he definitely has a problem with his hearin', Matthew. Let's see shall we?" Hank raised his gun in the air, finger moving to the trigger.
"Hank, no!" Matthew yelled, but it was too late. The booming firing of the weapon sent Wolf running into the Clinic in fear.
Matthew and Hank stood silently, as the little man ran desperately back towards the Saloon.
"He won't be causin' us no trouble anymore." Hank returned the gun to his holster, satisfied.
"Thanks for that Hank. I just wished you hadn't fired the gun." Matthew invited Hank into the Clinic, closing the door behind them.
"What'd you let him in here for, anyway?" Jake looked up as Hank approached the examination bed.
"He's all right, Jake. Got rid of a little problem," Matthew was about to continue when he heard Colleen enter the room with Brian.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, noticing the man lying on the table.
"Is there anything you can do?" Timothy closed his bible, waiting as the young girl looked the unconscious man over.
"I, I don't think so. He's probably got a head injury, might be internal bleeding like what Brian had. No idea how long he's been unconscious for though," Colleen stepped away from the table, Brian hanging onto her tightly.
"I guess all we can do is make him comfortable," Jake looked up, his jaw dropping.
"Let me see," Everyone turned hearing the familiar voice, Matthew being the first to react, attempted to shield the identity of the patient.
"Dr Mike, no. Go back to bed." Matthew looked around at Colleen and the Reverend for support.
Michaela ignored his words, wrapping the dressing gown further around herself and trying to push past Matthew.
"Matthew, let me see!" She couldn't bear the anxiety, she needed to see if it was true.
"Ma, No! Please," Matthew begged, but he couldn't argue with the determination in her eyes. Lowering his head, he stepped away, allowing her to approach the examination table. Slowly, Michaela reached for the man's arm, searching for a pulse as she looked for any indication of external trauma.
Feeling overwhelmed with simultaneous fear and relief, Michaela could only murmur a single word:
"Sully?"