~.~
X.O.X
Monday, 19th July, 1869
One Day Later – 13 Weeks Gestation
X.O.X
~.~
"Mornin' Ma." Brian appeared groggily from behind the white curtain, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and stumbling out into the living area, still in his pale pajamas.
"Breakfast's almost ready." Michaela turned briefly to acknowledge the young boy, before returning her attention to the bacon frying noisily on the stove in front of her.
"Smells great, Ma," Brian approached her, Michaela failing to detect the small child's movements until she felt his arms wrap around her waist in a tight, affectionate hug.
"Careful, Brian. You'll get burnt," Michaela pushed his shoulder away spontaneously, averting more to the close contact than to any danger posed to Brian's health.
Michaela turned back quickly to the breakfast cooking on the stove, deliberately ignoring the hangdog expression, she knew would be plastered all over the boy's face.
"I'll go get dressed then," Brian shrugged, not thinking too much of it, and retreating back to his room to prepare for the day.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Seeya at the Clinic, Ma. Ma?" Brian jumped from the wagon, watching as Michaela turned back towards the horse, taking a moment to respond.
"Oh, yes, sweetheart," she replied, however her tone was flat and distracted.
"Yeah, complete run through, ain't it darling," Brian giggled, turning towards Colleen smooching his lips together playfully.
"Come on, you. School," Colleen rolled her eyes, aware of Michaela's obvious inattention.
Brian turned and headed towards the schoolhouse, his pace quickening when he noticed Steven trudging along the path towards him.
"Dr Mike, you get any sleep last night? Dr Mike?" Colleen frowned slightly, noticing just how tired Michaela seemed.
"Huh? Oh sorry. Not really, no. See you after school, Colleen," Michaela forced a smile, moving Bear off towards the main street, Colleen remaining still, her eyes fixed in mild concern for several moments, until she heard Becky calling from a distance.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Horace, Myra, please," Michaela noticed the couple sitting patiently on the bench outside the Clinic as she approached, opening the door and gesturing warmly for them to enter.
"Really, don't know why Horace made me come, Dr Mike. Ain't nothin' the matter," Myra shook her head, in mock anger at her husband, as they nonetheless took seats in the examination room, Michaela glancing around quickly to orientate herself, forcing her mind to stop drifting onto other concerns.
"Myra, I actually requested that Horace encourage you to come and see me. He mentioned a little accident?" Michaela looked briefly between the white dressing above Horace's eye, before turning back to Myra, the Doctor's face remaining calm and non-judgmental.
"Oh, that, aw, Dr Mike, I just feel so awful 'bout it, Don't even remember it or nothin'. One minute I'm asleep, next minute wake up and Horace's on the floor, blood gushing everywhere," Myra explained rapidly, her voice increasing in pitch and distress with each word.
"Calm down, Myra, we both know you didn't mean it. However, Horace did mention that you've not seemed yourself lately? I was hoping you might be able to enlighten me a little?" Michaela reached across the desk locating some blank paper and a pencil, preparing to take notes.
"Well, ain't really thought much about it, 'least not 'til now. Suppose I been feelin' tired lately but that's just coz I been changin' my ways. Sleepin' at night, not like when I was workin' at Hank's," Myra shrugged lightly, turning to Horace, still believing he was overreacting.
"Now Myra, honey. You been, well, actin' different in other ways too, you been kinda, well, moody. Not, not that I mind," Horace quickly backtracked, his desperate reassurance in response to the denying glare that swept across Myra's face.
"I ain't been moody, Horace. Where'd you get somethin' like that from? Just been, bit sensitive, is all. Don't want you fussin' 'round me all the time," Myra defended strongly, Michaela glancing between the textbook on her desk and the paper she was writing on.
"And I believe Horace you mentioned an increased appetite?" Michaela looked between each individual in front of her, watching Myra's face break into a slightly humiliated look of pure offence.
"Horace, if ya reckon I've been eatin' too much, just needed to say somethin' to me. Didn't need to go blabbing to Dr Mike. I can't believe you'd do such a thing!" Myra's face darkened, Michaela and Horace exchanging slightly shocked glances at her sudden outburst of temper.
"Myra, aw, don't go gettin' all moody again, I didn't mean it like it was botherin' me. I was just worried 'bout ya. Dr Mike, you sure nothing's wrong with her?" Horace slid his chair several inches away from his wife.
"Ah Horace, maybe you'd best give us a few minutes. Might be in everyone's best interest." Michaela's eyes darted quickly towards the door, Horace exiting in a matter of seconds, Michaela getting to her feet and pacing around to lean against the edge of the table, Myra looking up at her quietly for several minutes before bursting into tears.
"Myra? What in the world?" Michaela narrowed her eyebrows, her confusion evident across her exhausted face.
"Oh, Dr Mike, I didn't like to say nothin' in front a Horace, ain't somethin' I wanna talk about in front of him," Myra slipped a handkerchief from her sleeve, blowing her nose and taking several calming breaths.
"What didn't you want to talk about? Do you think you know what's causing these peculiar behaviors?" Michaela crossed her arms in front of her, looking down before awkwardly pulling them away, resting her palms against the top of the desk.
"I, I'm pregnant," Myra blurted out, letting her face fall into an excited giggle, Michaela's jaw dropping momentarily, connecting with only one word and taking several moments to process the polarized emotional reaction.
"Oh, what leads you to that conclusion?" Michaela blinked several times, stepping away from the desk, indicating for Myra to stand and make her way towards the examination table.
"Well, had my suspicions for a week or so now. Just didn't wanna say nothin' 'til I was sure. Missed two monthlies and usually I'm as regular as clockwork and well," Michaela cut her off, slightly too curtly.
"All right, just lay down and we'll see," The physician placed an arm clinically on Myra's shoulder, the woman settling down against the padded table. Michaela glanced across the room, an eerie sense of déjà vu creeping over her.
"Why didn't you come and see me about this straight away?" Michaela enquired, her voice carrying a slightly more accusing tone than she'd intended. Drawing her hands tentatively to the woman's abdomen, Michaela tightened her jaw, professionalism setting in instantly.
"I weren't really sure, and didn't wanna scare Horace if it weren't true," Myra trailed off, sensing Michaela needed her to be quiet for several moments whilst she conducted the examination.
"Scare Horace?" Michaela sighed, her fingertips palpating the women's tender flesh delicately, eyebrows narrowing as she mapped her way around Myra's internal organs.
"Yea-yeah," Myra stumbled, her gaze shifting worriedly between Michaela and the slightly uncomfortable pressure on her stomach.
"I fail to see why it should scare him?" Michaela continued the exam in silence for several moments, Myra relaxing once she'd removed her hands.
"No, not scare. Just, don't think he'd be expectin' it or nothin'. Only been married a couple a months, well, ah?" Myra swallowed slowly, Michaela crossing the room to collect the stirrups, clamping them to the edge of the examination table, Myra sitting up awaiting a response.
"I need to conduct an internal exam," Michaela found a sheet and an assortment of instruments, Myra slowly removing her undergarments, her gaze alternating awkwardly between Michaela and the undressing process, choosing to remain in a nervous silence.
"Dr Mike, is something wrong?" Myra waited until Michaela returned to the end of the examination table, before voicing her concern.
"I can't be certain in a diagnosis at this stage, without conducting a thorough examination. It won't take long, Myra, then we'll know," Michaela's voice remained oddly detached and aloof, Myra having no choice but to settle back against the table, moving her legs into the stirrups and trying to settle her breathing.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Mornin', Horace, something the matter?" Sully strode along the porch, having just come from the Mercantile, when he noticed the dark-haired man sitting patiently, yet in an obvious state of agitation on the bench outside the Clinic.
"Oh, I, ain't really sure. Myra and Dr Mike been in there for ages now," Horace rested his hands on his knees, his gaze alternating between Sully and the closed wooden door to his right.
"Nothin's wrong, is it?" Sully took a seat beside him, the Wolf settling onto the floorboards nearby, his tongue extending into a gentle pant, in an attempt to cool himself against the warm weather.
"Sure hope not but ya never know," Horace's knee began to shake softly, a hand going to steady it immediately.
"Relax, Horace, Dr Mike'll figure it out. Ain't gotta worry 'bout that," Sully and Horace looked up, as the door creaked open and Myra burst excitedly out onto the porch.
"Myra, honey, everything all right?" Horace got to his feet, feeling her arms wrap instantly around his shoulders, almost shying away defensively from the physical gesture before realizing Myra was in a state of utter elation.
"Everything's wonderful! I, you, I mean, we are gonna have a baby!" Myra felt Horace react after several moments, returning the tight hug and picking her up to spin her around in several quick rotations before setting her back down, panic crossing his face.
"Oh sorry, I shouldn't have. You all right?" Horace looked between Myra's stomach and face, his eyes dancing with fatherly pride.
"I'm fine. Just weren't sure you'd be quite so thrilled," Myra let her voice trickle into an excited giggle.
"Well, I know it's quick but, aww I couldn't want anything more. Our baby, ours!" Horace and Myra closed the gap between their bodies once again in an overjoyed embrace.
Sully managed to momentarily glimpse Michaela's eyes, expecting to find them lit with friendly support and interest. They were anything but. Her gaze was slightly downcast, as if lost in her own thoughts. Her face was pale, and she looked as if she were about to burst into tears if anything. Not having time to ponder the moment any longer, Sully heard Myra's voice once again, still conscious of the positive energy being emitted from the new parents.
"Oh, Dr Mike, thank-you," Myra took several steps across the porch, embracing an extremely unsuspecting Michaela in a warm hug, Sully's eyes narrowed as he noticed the sheer terrorized discomfort momentarily flash across Michaela's face, however, ever-the-professional, she hid it instantly.
"That's quite all right, Myra. Everything seems to be fine. Come and see me in a month." Michaela instructed, as Myra pulled away from her, clasping Horace's hand tightly.
"Oh, absolutely Dr Mike, and thank-you for all your advice. I'll be sure and let you know if there are any problems," The young woman and her still somewhat shocked husband smiled dreamily to Sully and then to each other, before steeping from the porch. Sully closed the distance subtly between Michaela and himself, his eyes still fixed on Horace and Myra.
"'Nother successful diagnosis there, Dr Quinn. Sure made their day," Sully beamed, watching the ecstatic couple disappear back towards the telegraph office. They were arm in arm, Horace already beginning to fuss over her.
"Dr Mike?" Sully turned back, seeing the emotionless expression on Michaela's face; her eyes dull and lifeless as they watched the pair disappear from view.
"Michaela?" Sully frowned, moving his head into her line of vision, waiting for her eventual response.
"What?" She frowned lightly, as if annoyed at being caught off-guard.
"Hey, I came by to see ya. Thought ya might wanna get some coffee?" He stepped closer to her, a fresh, boyish smile creeping onto his face, somewhat relieved that the tension between them had abated over the past several weeks, certainly by the previous weekend.
Michaela rested her left hand on the door handle, moving closer towards the door as she lifted her head, turning back to him, aware of his eyes roaming over her.
"Well I don't," Michaela's reply was succinct and emotionally flat. She straightened her neck, her head rising several inches as if to give her words more conviction.
"Aw, come on," Sully coerced jovially, his right hand slipping to Michaela's forearm, gripping the soft fabric of her salmon-colored blouse. It was his favorite.
"I'm busy." She felt the muscles in her neck tighten, her hands trying to discreetly sever the physical contact between them.
Sully tilted his head slightly, before removing his hand, his blue eyes softening, realizing that he was possibly over-stepping the bounds of their newly acquired familiarity only two days prior.
"Fine," The rejection in his voice was obvious, and they both knew it.
Taking a step away from her, Sully posed no further objection when she disappeared back into the Clinic.
A frustrated kick to the nearby post, followed by Sully calling the Wolf to his feet, blocked the thud of Michaela leaning back hard against the inside door of the Clinic, tears streaming silently down her cheeks, arms wrapped around her chest.
~.~
X.O.X
Wednesday, 21st July, 1869
Two Days Later
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela stepped onto the porch outside the telegraph office, darting quickly to her left, to avoid a townswoman bustling through the door, armed with parcels and young children.
Medical bag held loosely in her right arm, her left hand clutching the letter tightly by her side, Michaela waited until the doorway was clear before briskly entering the small office. Horace sat at his desk, finishing a telegram.
"Afternoon, Dr Mike, just a minute," he smiled, quickly completing the telegram before pacing cheerfully across to the desk, the realization of impending fatherhood still plastered across his face.
"What can I do for you?" Horace smiled, Michaela placed her bag on the edge of the counter, gingerly handing him the neatly printed, securely sealed envelope.
"Can you see this gets to Boston, Horace. It's very important," Michaela swallowed watching as he casually took the letter from her right hand, glancing over the addressee details.
"Dr Horatio Robinson Storer. That sure is one heck of a name, ain't it," Horace nodded, turning slightly to pull the mailbag from under the counter.
"When will it go out, Horace?" Michaela felt nervous just knowing the letter had left her possession.
"Stage is due tomorrow mornin', so should get there within a week. Something urgent, Dr Mike?" Horace didn't like to pry, however was conscious of the concerned expression on Michaela's face.
"Urgent's an understatement, Horace," Michaela sighed, placing the money for postage on the counter, before turning, about to make her way towards the door.
"Well, wouldn't ya be better off wiring this doctor. Then you'd hear back straight," Horace was taken aback by the sharpness in Michaela's immediate reply.
"Ah, no. That will be fine. Thank-you, Horace," Michaela felt the blood rush to her head just at the mere notion of this becoming public gossip. She proceeded through the door, barely acknowledging Horace's reply.
"No problem, Dr Mike. Good day," he shrugged, she sure was in a hurry lately.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
The two youngest Cooper children sat quietly on opposite sides of the kitchen table, Michaela at the far end, closest to their sleeping quarters. Colleen and Brian were busy completing their homework, having finished supper only several hours ago. Michaela alternated between some light sewing and utter daydream, aware that it was nearly the children's bedtime, and she would once again be left with only her thoughts.
Colleen was the first to break the silence, her voice shrill and shocked.
"Brian! Give it back! I mean it," Colleen reached across the table, her younger brother having just snatched the thin lead pencil from her grasp.
"No, I broke mine and I'm almost done." He began scribbling the arithmetic problem out, Colleen frowning and continuing to protest against the boy's childlike selfishness.
"That don't just mean you can take mine! I was trying to go over the script for tomorrow. Briaannn," Colleen looked down towards the end of the table, Michaela remaining consumed in darning one of Brian's socks.
"But, I, I'm almost done," Brian pulled away, Colleen refusing to let him win, now just on principle.
"Ma, tell Brian to give me my pencil back," Colleen raced around to the other side of the table, violently grabbing her brother's right arm.
"No, just a minute." He struggled, Colleen's grasp on his arm tightening until it hurt.
"Ma! Ma, make him give it back!" Colleen kept a firm grip on her brother's arm, the anger prevalent in her voice only causing the pincer-like hold on his arm to strengthen.
"Owww!" Brian screeched, the pencil remaining clenched in the palm of his hand. Michaela didn't react until Brian's slightly tortured cries rang out.
"Colleen!" Michaela let the sewing drop to the table in front of her, suddenly aware of the scuffle that had ensured.
"Ma, he took my pencil. Won't give it back," Colleen's voice was exasperated, her hold on Brian's arm having softened somewhat, however was still firm.
"But I need it," The young boy protested, Colleen managing to pry the thin lead from his tightly gripped fingers.
"Well that's tough!" Colleen fought slightly immaturely for her pencil once again, having determined that Michaela was making no effort to intercede in the slightly heated disagreement.
"Aw, Colleen, I," Brian pulled back on the fragile object, both siblings aware of the snapping sound, each pulling their hands away as the now broken pencil hit the wooden floorboards and rolled under the table.
"Well. Now no one has a pencil to write with," Michaela sighed, recommencing the repair work on Brian's dark brown sock, having not moved from her observatory position.
"Nah, we've got two now," Brian quickly scurried under the table, emerging with the two pieces, reaching for his pocketknife and beginning to messily shave the two ends into nice, sharp tips.
"Brian, I don't exactly think that was the point," Michaela watched as he handed Colleen her end, which was significantly shorter.
"Hey, that ain't fair! Was my pencil to begin with!" The fair-headed girl groused, frowning between Michaela and her younger brother, realizing this display of sibling rivalry had gone far beyond the issue of pencils.
Michaela observed silently as the two children began their heated fight once again, her eyes narrowing, before looking away in disinterest, not having the energy to intercede.
"Well, ok but only coz you got fatter hands," he rolled his eyes, reluctantly swapping pencils with his sister.
"Brian! I do not," Colleen was about to take her seat back in front of her script, when she comprehended his statement.
"Do too. I got nice little hands. See don't I, Ma?" Brian turned to Michaela for support, her gaze downcast at the sock she was mending, whilst her mind remained miles and miles away.
"Ma," Brian whined noticeably, taking the four small steps along the edge of the table to arrive at Michaela's side, his right hand going to her shoulder to draw her attention.
"Don't I, Ma?" He squeezed her shoulder, Colleen having busied herself in her work, long since tiring of his childish competitiveness.
"Sorry," Michaela tensed her shoulders responsively, being pulled out of her daydream, looking between the children for several moments, trying to pick up on what she'd missed.
"Ma, you ain't heard nothin' we've been sayin'," Brian narrowed his eyebrows, frustrated by the fact that his mother was not giving him the attention he felt he was entitled to.
Michaela let her jaw drop slightly, tempted to reassure the child she had heard his conversation, when all three individuals turned at the unexpected sound of the door being flung open.
"Dr Mike, you gotta come! Saloon, Saloon was held up. Hank's been hurt, got shot," Matthew, completely out of breath, burst into the room. Perspiration was dripping from his temples, having galloped Scout the entire way out to the homestead from town, where'd he'd spent the evening with Ingrid.
Michaela dropped the sewing on the edge of the table, quickly locating her bag on the mantelpiece, looking thoughtfully between the two worried younger children.
"How, how badly is he hurt?" Michaela attempted to deduce just how quickly she needed to get into town.
"Real bad, Dr Mike. Lost a lota blood, was hit in the chest. Jake's got pressure on the wound like I told him, tryin' to slow the bleedin', but," Matthew trailed off, Michaela arriving in the doorway beside him.
"Matthew, you need to stay here with the children, I'll take Scout in," she ordered, arriving out onto the porch, Matthew and Brian reaching quickly for her arm and hand respectively.
"Dr Mike, you ain't ridin' into town by yourself. I'll hitch up the wagon," Matthew nodded, his decision firm, Brian merely clinging to her hand out of habit.
"There isn't time and I won't have Colleen and Brian out here alone all night," Michaela raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to challenge her. She had arrived at the bottom of the porch steps before she heard his voice again.
"Fine, but I'm hitchin' the wagon and we're following you in," Matthew looked to Colleen in the doorway, the young girl nodding immediately and rushing back inside to collect the necessary items they'd require for an overnight stay.
"If you insist," Michaela dismissed his protectiveness, securing her medical bag to the pommel, mounting the tall horse and pushing him into an immediate canter, moving into a gallop once she'd traveled twenty or so yards from the homestead.
"Come on, move it!" Matthew turned to his younger brother, who was gazing off into the darkened path, and quickly directed him to help get the wagon ready.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela felt herself pounding in the saddle, seeing the main street come into view, as she pushed the horse faster and faster. Scout was noticeably straining by this stage, having been required to travel at a gallop from the town to the homestead and now back again. Michaela, having had to encourage the horse significantly the last mile, murmured gratitude for Flash's smaller size as she saw the dim lamps around the town draw closer and closer.
Michaela tightened her grip on the reins, approaching the Clinic. She was aware of the dozen or so townspeople crowded around the porch, all looking towards her as they heard the horse's hooves scuffing noisily against the dirt street.
Dismounting Scout, surprised at the significantly longer drop to the ground, Michaela reached back awkwardly, retrieving her medical bag and, still out of breath from the long ride, began pushing her way through the crowds of people, eventually making it to the closed wooden door of the Clinic.
Jake and Dorothy looked across the room, audible sighs of relief being emitted when they were able to visually confirm Michaela's presence.
"Oh, thank goodness. Michaela, just all happened too fast. Heard shooting, came outside, Jake and Robert Howlser were dragging Hank from the Saloon," Dorothy trailed off, realizing Michaela was not particularly interested in the details, having crossed the room to begin examining Hank's unconscious form.
The bartender was lying motionless on the examination table, a pool of blood in the middle of his chest, quickly serving to aid Michaela in her diagnosis.
"He gonna be all right, Dr Mike?" Jake's eyes widened, more alarmed by the speed of Michaela's movements than from the extent of Hank's injuries.
"The bullet's punctured the left lung. Torn a branch of the aorta by the looks of the blood," she gestured momentarily to the bright red blood seeping from the small hole just to the left of his chest, the color indicative of the location of the damage.
"Dorothy, I need you to, over there, instrument case, scalpel," Michaela managed to rip Hank's shirt open, allowing her to examine the wound. Jake stood back, a hand covering his mouth, immediately opposed to all the blood.
"Jake over in the cabinet, bottom shelf. I need chloroform and a cloth. You'll need to administer it, one drop a minute, you remember?" Michaela's voice was ragged, aware of the frantic, concerned chatter streaming in from the porch, doing nothing to lower her stress levels.
Quickly checking Hank's pulse, she knew he'd lost a significant amount of blood, and, waiting for Dorothy and Jake to find their assigned items, Michaela increased the pressure to Hank's chest, working blindly against the precise location of the damage until Dorothy slipped the scalpel into her hand.
"What ya gonna do?" Dorothy, her hair plaited messily down her back, queried, the redhead's eyes darting suspiciously between Hank and Michaela, trying to deduce even a non-verbal response.
"Need to open the chest cavity, locate the bullet, and suture the tear. Careful not to administer too much, Jake, he's having difficulty breathing as it is," Michaela felt her tired eyes squint, in an attempt to see clearly in the dull light, not even sure if chloroform was the safest option given Hank's shallow and gasped breathing.
"Oh my," Dorothy brought her hand to her chest, as Michaela made the large incision around the bullet hole, feeling the trapped air expire from her mouth as she mentally chastised her forgetfulness.
"Damn. Dorothy, instrument case, bring it here. I need clamps," Michaela sighed, realizing she now had to control major bleeding without even having a suitable operating field prepared, nor having any clamps or sutures nearby.
"Just slow down, Dr Mike. Tell us what you need and we'll get it," Jake saw the sweat form on Michaela's brow, Dorothy crossing the room, quickly returning with the opened wooden chest, placing it awkwardly against Hank's side.
"These?" Dorothy handed the clamps nervously to Michaela, the physician securing them either end of the incision, her anxiety dropping when she was able to take-in the exact nature of the damage.
Michaela worked silently for several moments, Dorothy and Jake exchanging naïve looks of genuine concern.
"The bullet appears to be lodged behind the lung. I need to suture the tear to the aorta, the two tears to the lung, and finally extract the bullet," Michaela looked up as the door burst open, Colleen entering the room.
"What can I do?" The young girl barely had time to speak, Michaela cutting her off in a pressing assertiveness.
"Suture set," Michaela instructed without taking a breath, returning her attention to the incision site in front of her as Colleen obediently carried out her request.