"Told ya, didn't I tell ya, only a matter a time before Dr Mike was gonna do somethin' like this!" Jake ran the edge of the razor blade carefully along Loren's chin, raising an eyebrow as he glanced around the room.
"She sure has been actin' kinda strange lately, I'll give ya that. I mean, well, she was fine for awhile, weren't she? Then," Horace shook his head, turning a page in the newspaper before him, Hank interrupting with a less than subtle cough.
"I been tryin' to tell ya what it is. Sully's gettin' his mitts back on her. Michaela ain't gonna like that," Hank flashed a smile of smugness.
"Aww, that ain't true, Hank. Sully's just lookin' out for her, just tryin' to be a friend," Loren waited until Jake had turned to clean the excess soap from the razor before contributing.
"No way, old man, he's lookin' out for himself. Wanted her for himself from the start. Probably just ticked off about all this ruinin' his chances." Hank enjoyed the glare of discomfort which crossed Horace's face.
"Ain't right to be talkin' like that, Hank. Ain't our business." Horace focused his efforts on reading the article in front of him.
"Sure it is, we ain't got no doc now. Reckon it makes it plenty our business," Hank met eyes with Jake, who saw his point.
"When you put it like that, but you heard what Matthew told Robert E. Says Dr Mike's only going to be gone a few weeks," Jake returned to his customer, almost causing Loren an injury when the older man moved forwards in his chair to respond.
"And you believe that? Load a rubbish," Hank scoffed, Loren interjecting quickly.
"Now just quit talkin' like that Hank. She ain't left for good, just for a while like the children said. She'd never separate little Brian from Matthew and Colleen anyway, not to mention the whole town," Loren slowly settled himself back in the chair, Jake nervously bringing the razor to his neck once again.
"What makes you think Michaela goin' first weren't just to throw everyone off the scent. Matthew and Colleen'll probably follow in a week or so," Hank rested back against the bench, as Horace twitched his mouth in thought.
"Look, I hate to even think somethin' like this but, she didn't want no return ticket when she booked the stage. Said she'd handle it when she got to Denver," Horace lowered the paper, suddenly considering Hank's theory a possibility.
"All the evidence I need; she's taken the kid, ain't comin' back," Hank looked back towards Jake and Loren for an opinion.
"Would make sense, I guess. Hardly gonna be any easier to forget livin' this close to them. Not to mention all us knowin'," Loren muttered quietly, reluctant to be siding with the Saloon owner.
"And Sully. He's probably been harpin' on at her to make nice with all his injun pals. Who'd wanna do somethin' like that? I'd happily see the lot of 'em dead," Hank tossed his hair back over his right shoulder, his mouth moving into a tight grimace of determination.
"Well, I ain't thought of it like that. I mean, seen Dr Mike and Sully together a lot, least until last week. Was startin' to reckon maybe something was goin' on there again. Then he just disappeared," Horace folded the newspaper crisply in his lap; the conversation proving far more enlightening.
"Like he always does. Olive told me they had a fight night a the school play. Said Dr Mike told him she didn't wanna see him no more. Said that's why he took off." Loren again moved sharply in his seat before beginning to put in his two cents worth.
Jake let out an exasperated sigh.
"Well, has anyone seen him 'round lately? Mighty strange him takin' off, then the doc two days later. You don't reckon," Hank chuckled under his breath, before continuing his supposition, "reckon she took off so he wouldn't know? Like, as if she was just waitin' for the chance? But she was too scared he'd try and stop her?" Hank leant forwards in captivation.
"Now just you stop that, this ain't right. Even if she has gone, much as I know people gonna be upset, I can understand it. I'm just worried 'bout Myra. She was so lookin' forward to havin' Dr Mike around, with the baby and all," Horace placed the newspaper next to him on the bench.
"Just don't seem fair, though. Wish we coulda done somethin' better, somethin' to stop," Loren looked up at the sound of footsteps entering through the door. The room filled with an uncomfortable silence, no-one having the strength to voice a response aside from Hank.
"Well, well, well. Look who's finally crawled outa that tepee at last," Hank sneered, Jake's disapproval breaking the tension.
"That ain't funny, Hank," Jake reprimanded, as he wiped the remainder of the soap from Loren's face.
"Good question though. Where have ya been, Sully?" Loren's face was stern and demanding.
"Away. Look, I ain't interested in having to explain myself to any a ya. Just came by, coz I," Sully sighed awkwardly, not enjoying the attention he was receiving.
"Hey ya heard 'bout Dr Mike didn't ya?" Horace got to his feet, worried that maybe Sully had been left out of the loop.
"Jake," Sully deliberately ignored Horace's question, instead turning his attention to the barber across the room. "I, ah, need ya help," Sully looked around the room uncomfortably, sensing the curiosity his entrance had just provoked.
"You what?" Jake let the razor blade drop into the bowl of alcohol beside him.
Hank taking that precise moment to burst into a bemused cackle. "Reckon he wants ya to cut off the mane." He rested his arms on his knees, barely managing to contain his amusement.
"Knock it off, Hank. Get outa here," Jake groused, seeing the darkness in Sully's eyes.
"That ain't it, is it?" Horace stood nervously, tilting his head as the room once again went quiet.
"Course it ain't, just wanna talk to Jake. In private," Sully knew if the men around him were aware of the truth, his eminent departure would only be made more conspicuous.
"Yeah, come on, Hank, got those new cigars in from St. Louis. Really need some of your private stock to go with 'em. On the house," Loren crossed the room to pat Hank's back encouragingly.
"Yeah, what do I care? Ain't standing 'round with injun boy here," The Saloon owner sidled towards the doorway, Loren following close behind him, taking the instant to whisper discreetly in Sully's ear.
"Get her back, won't ya son," the older man lowered his head, rousing Hank out onto the porch and towards the general store.
"Look, Horace, 'ppreciate it if ya could give us a few minutes," Sully patted the telegraph operator's arm softly.
"No problem. Just, is that it? Are ya gonna get Dr Mike back?" Horace's eyes grew large in pleading.
"Gonna try, Horace," Sully replied softly, as the tall man nodded a somber acknowledgement and departed from the shop.
"Take a seat," Jake instructed hesitantly, barely believing the scene that had just unfolded before him.
"Listen, ain't any use pretendin'. Me and the kids gonna go and find Michaela and Brian. Thought it'd be more appropriate if I," Sully gestured solemnly to his long tangled locks of hair.
"If you didn't look like one of them?" Jake finished Sully's sentence plainly, before turning and locating his scissors on the tray beside him.
Sully let out an audible sigh of agreement, before making himself more comfortable against the red velvet chair.
Carefully beginning to untangle the long tresses before him, Jake resumed the conversation.
"We were just talkin'. Horace said she didn't get no return ticket. Ain't gonna take long for the town to realize she ain't plannin' on comin' back," Jake carefully took the first handful of long, curled hair between his fingers, straightening it out and preparing to cut.
"But the children said," Sully paused, having assumed up until this point that Colleen and Matthew's explanation of Michaela's leaving, and eventual return were accurate. "Who's sayin' she ain't comin' back?" His voice was unusually low and flat.
"No-one really, just talk. Gettin' different stories from everyone. You reckon going after her's the right thing?" Jake opened the scissors in his right hand, pulling the hair taught in his left.
"Would I be doin' this if I didn't?" Sully let his eyes drop closed as he felt the first cut being made. He'd grown his hair from the moment he'd left the army and considered it as much a part of his identity as his name.
"This because you think this is the best place for her to be, or because you don't wanna lose her?" Jake enquired delicately, his hand moving to the next clump of hair, again repeating the cutting movement.
"Both. But it ain't about me. Look, I know what people are thinkin', sayin'. You all just think I wanna be with her to show her it don't matter. Or for myself. Ain't neither of those reasons true, and even if they were true at one time, ain't true now. Don't matter to me if Michaela wants to be with me or not. All that matters is her, and the children." Sully phrased his final word awkwardly, aware, for the first time, of his confused feelings regarding the extra 'addition' to that term. He knew how much hatred he felt towards what had happened and he knew to whom that hatred was directed. But regardless, he couldn't pass that hatred on to the child Michaela was carrying. It was her child. Sully knew he could make her see that. It would be difficult, but he knew he could achieve that. He just had to keep her safe in the meantime.
"Sully, she ever talk to you about bein' out there?" Jake voiced carefully, pulling Sully from his diverse thoughts.
"A little, not much. I didn't like to push her to talk about it if she didn't want," Sully replied automatically, not having time to consider whether or not he wished to discuss something so personal with Jake. He felt the scissors slice through another handful of his hair, as Jake's lowered voice filled the small shop.
"Doesn't sound like she's really talked to anyone. I mean, Dorothy let it slip that she'd spoken with her the next morning but she talked about what happened, not, well. I was there, Sully. What happened and how it happened, probably ain't the same thing," Jake snipped the sharp blades of the scissors against the final lock of Sully's hair, both turning to take in the pile of long hair on the floor beside the chair.
"Ain't somethin' I like talkin' about either, but I was there too, Jake. A week later. Had to clean up," Sully deflected his eyes back towards the tips of his toes in front of him, feeling Jake begin moving the small comb through the remnant wisps of his hair. Letting his eyes fall closed as he felt the cool air hit the back of his neck, Sully knew his sacrifice, however heartbreaking, was small in comparison. He knew that getting Michaela to return would be impossible enough, without drawing the offended looks and comments from passersby as he had the last time he'd traveled to Boston. As much as Sully knew of the enormity of his transformation, he knew it would be worth it. His hair would grow back in time and this small sacrifice was the least he owed her.
"I know probably isn't my place but, can't stop thinkin' about it, can't stop rememberin'. Wishin' we'd kept searchin' that night, 'stead a makin' camp. For heaven's sake, was less than an hour after we set off that mornin' that we found her. If we'd started earlier, or kept goin', maybe. Maybe wouldn't have happened at all, maybe," Jake looked between the comb and scissors held loosely in each of his hands, Sully turning in the chair to watch him for several moments before responding.
"Don't gotta put yaself through this, Jake. Ya think I ain't had all those thoughts?" Sully drew a breath, about to continue when the barber interjected more strongly.
"Not the same, is it? You didn't have to open that tent flap, and see her lyin' there. See," Jake's eyes clouded over as he became lost in his dark recollections, "see, all the blood, her clothes scattered. Feel her jump when I pushed her tangled hair back from her face and see that look, Sully." Unconsciously, Jake's head had begun to shake slowly.
"I ain't never seen no-one look like that my whole life," he swallowed, still captivated at the haunting memory behind his eyes.
"Can't describe it. Weren't just fear or pain, was a hopelessness, a lostness. Weren't until I could put it all together, that I could comprehend that look, when it all really hit me, ya know? Like she was dead on the inside but worse than if I'd really found her dead," Jake caught his breath, managing to prevent himself from letting the accumulated moisture behind his eyes transform into tears.
"I've seen it, Jake. In other ways. But don't gotta be like that forever. That's why I'm bringin' her home. Ain't no-one gonna be able to help her heal more than this town. Ain't no people gonna care more." Sully rested his right hand on the man's left wrist for several moments, allowing him time to recover from the emotional flashbacks.
"You're right. Sorry, I shouldn't have," Jake attempted to dismiss his recent outburst with a quick wave of his right hand.
"Nothin' to apologize for. Ya know Jake, you saved her life. Ya all did. She wouldn't a lasted more than a few hours out there," Sully turned back around in the chair, feeling the barber's fingers lock back around the edges of his hair.
"I know. Just all seems rather pointless. Screwin' up so many people's lives, for nothin'," Jake's tone of voice altered subtly, attempting to dismiss his previous concern through bitter words of anger.
"Maybe it don't gotta be for nothin'. Maybe it's a chance for us to learn somethin'," Sully rested his arms back against the soft fabric of the chair, feeling Jake continue his work.
"Ain't learnt nothin'. We all knew those injuns were a bunch a savages. This just proved it," Sully chose to ignore Jake's comment, understanding that it was merely a way of coping with his distress.
No further words passed between the two men, as Jake finished trimming Sully's once thick crop of hair into a neat, styled cut.
Turning to hand the man several coins in payment, Sully kept his voice dull and reassuring. "We all regret what happened, Jake. All wish we coulda stopped it, but it's too late for that. What matters is gettin' her back safe," Sully bit his tongue, realizing he'd probably said too much.
Not giving Jake the chance to pick him up on his words, Sully cleared his throat and strode back out onto the porch, making his way without hesitation towards the Clinic to meet Matthew and Colleen.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"What the," Loren looked up from counting the loose change in the money tin in front of him, seeing the familiar faces beside the newly arrived stagecoach.
"Loren?" Dorothy heard the unconcealed shock in her brother-in-law's voice, and rose from her seat behind her desk, arriving by his side to follow his gaze out onto the main street.
"Oh my Lord!" She clasped her hands over her mouth, both individuals quickly bolting for the door leading out onto the porch.
"Now just you all look after yaselves and, make sure ya all come back soon as ya can. Don't go letttin' anyone go talkin' ya into leavin' us," Olive stood by Colleen's side, her hands grasped protectively around the young girl's shoulders.
"Don't worry, Miss Olive," Colleen looked back towards her brother for support, the young man handing the suitcases to the driver.
"Can't say how long we're gonna be but promise ya, we'll all be returnin' this time," Sully nodded reassuringly, directing Colleen towards the stage, as he noticed Loren and Dorothy emerge out onto the porch.
"Thanks, Miss Olive. Gonna pay that money back to ya for the tickets, just as soon as I can," Matthew reached forward to embrace the older woman in a tight hug.
"Don't you worry about that, son. Just you get ya ma and brother back safe. I'll handle everything 'round here," Olive forced herself to release her grasp on the young man, watching him follow his sister into the coach.
"Thank-you, Olive," Sully reached for her hand, the pair regarded each other for several moments before Olive eventually broke the contact.
"Ain't seen ya look like that since little Abby," she trailed off, resting a hand on Sully's shoulder as she gestured to his hair. "I know how much Dr Mike means to ya. You just let her know she means as much to this town, and you promise her, gonna make it all right for her to come back here, no matter what. Gonna see to it she's got the support she needs, you just leave that to me," Olive wiped the single tear from below her right eye, turning back towards the store as Sully continued behind Matthew, the door being closed behind him.
"Hey Olive, what are they all doin'? How come I ain't heard 'bout this?" Dorothy hastily approached her sister-in-law's side, her intrigue anything but restrained.
"Cause you don't gotta know everythin' in this town, Dorothy. Now, just shut up for five minutes, wave nicely and maybe I'll take you for coffee over Grace's," Olive dusted her hands against her hips, a warm, supportive grin filling her face as the children smiled nervously from inside the stagecoach.
Dorothy, her astonishment causing the blood to run from her face, kept her mouth tightly closed, looking from Olive back to the stage, her left hand raised uncertainly into an uncomfortable wave.
The women watched in silence as the coach departed down the main street, Dorothy turning to Olive without a second's hesitation the moment the excitement around them had died down.
"I take two sugars, thank-you," she raised a single eyebrow, gesturing deliberately back down the main street, in the direction of Grace's café.
"That'd be right. Need all the sweetenin' ya can get," Olive lowered her gaze, her right hand picking up the edge of her skirt, as she reluctantly led the way.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela felt the movement of the train cease, as she kept her gaze locked to the busy platform outside the window. She could feel familiarity creeping up on her as she noticed the finely dressed women waiting for the approaching train. Michaela dropped her gaze downwards for several moments, doubt suddenly seeping into her mind. She'd never considered until this point that her very surroundings would influence her in the profound way in which she now found they did.
She'd promised her mother almost a year ago to return soon, never envisaging it would be under such unbearable circumstances. Michaela could feel that she was home, though and that it was not the same place she remembered it, quickly realizing however, that it was her who had changed. The lifeless buildings and bustling people before her eyes further entrenched her nervousness. Michaela turned to see Brian peering over her left shoulder, an excited smile etched onto his face.
Michaela let her eyes drop closed, forcing her breathing to regulate, as she willed the trepidation regarding the pending days to lessen. She reminded herself that Boston was not Colorado Springs; there was absolutely no reason for anyone to know who she was, or why she was here.
"Come on, Ma, let's go," Brian stood from his seat, the second the train had come to a complete stop, lingering briefly in the doorway before moving quickly down the corridor.
"Brian," Michaela criticized, shaking her head in frustration as the young boy continued regardless.
"You just take care, dear," Matthew tipped his hat with a genuine smile, Marilla adding her support as Michaela reluctantly rose to her feet.
Michaela nodded politely, almost forgetting her medical bag as she left the small compartment, seeing Brian's small outline disappear through the carriage door.
Arriving onto the crowded platform, Michaela reached firmly for Brian's left shoulder, squeezing harshly against his small frame, as the young boy flinched at the painful contact.
"If you ever run off like that again, young man, I'll," Michaela felt her jaw drop, realizing she actually had no possible reprimand.
"Oww, Ma!" He pulled his upper body away, slightly shocked that she'd caused him physical pain.
"Come along," Michaela refused to look at him, instead taking off towards the baggage car to collect her luggage. Quickly glancing at the large clock on the stone wall in the distance, Michaela knew they didn't have long.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Pregnant? But I didn't think. Are you sure?" Dorothy's eyes widened, her left hand shaking as she carefully brought the cup to rest on the top of the table.
"No, I made it up. For heaven's sake, Dorothy, 'course I'm downright sure. Colleen told me," Olive looked around Grace's nervously, suddenly afraid that the over dramatic redhead would not be able to keep her emotions under control.
"No, of course, sorry, I. How could somethin' like this happen?" Dorothy looked back up at the older woman, receiving nothing more than a stern glare in response. "I don't mean, how, exactly, I mean, well, didn't think that was, possible," Dorothy closed her mouth, nausea threatening to overtake her.
"I ain't no doctor, but I'd considered it months ago. Even asked Dr Mike, and she flat denied it. Reckon she was trying to take matters into her own hands; literally," Olive cleared her throat as Dorothy took several moments to comprehend her words.
"You ain't sayin' she? No, I can't believe that, Michaela mustn't have known, she'd never do somethin' like that," Dorothy struggled to keep her voice hushed and clasped her hands together to distract herself from her own shock.
"Well, what the duce you think she's off doin', Dorothy. She ain't taken Brian on some holiday, ya know. Don't think she was plannin' on tellin' any of us." Olive saw Dorothy's hands twitch nervously against the checkered tablecloth.
"But that's a sin, Olive. Against God, not to mention the law." Dorothy took a breath, about to continue voicing her disapproval when Olive's strong voice overpowered her.
"For mercy's sake, Dorothy, are you really that narrow-minded! You'd really force Dr Mike to suffer through such an ordeal, rather than go against some patriarchal belief? How can you be that cruel? You call yourself a friend?" Olive took several moments to study the other woman's confused and defensive expression.
"Well, no but don't change the fact that killing her own child is murder," Dorothy reasoned.
"In the name of, ain't her child, you fool. That, thing is a mistake. It's the spawn of evil, and don't you dare try to convince me otherwise." Olive leaned in closer. "You were there, Dorothy, the day they brought her back, more dead than alive. You can't in any rational mind convince me that a child ought to come into the world like that. Ain't gonna change my view." Olive pushed the chair back, rising to her feet and glancing back at Dorothy almost daring her to challenge her further.
"Ain't our place to question God's will," Dorothy lowered her eyes, struggling with the questioning of her religious beliefs.
"What about Dr Mike's? Don't she get a say once again? Or you reckon she oughta be violated all over again for the sake of some moral high ground?" Olive turned her head sharply in dismissal, her fury forcing her to make a quick exit.
"Olive!" Dorothy's face was red with torment, the older woman's words having left her in a state of total bewilderment; her personal principles being dashed to pieces in the wake of the unfolding nightmare.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Brian, his face lit with amused intrigue, watched as the bellhop led them into the room, placing the carpet bag against the delicately hewed wardrobe.
"Is there anything else, Ma'am?" The young man smiled politely, seeing the delight in the little boy's eyes.
"No, thank-you," Michaela dismissed him with a small shake of her head, Brian closing the door and beginning to explore the elaborately furnished hotel room.
"Wow, Ma, this is great! Just like Grandma's!" He entered the finely detailed bathroom, eyes widening at the sight of the large bathtub.
"It's Boston, Brian. It's very different from Colorado," Michaela stood awkwardly by the edge of the bed, deep in thought for several moments, before she began unpacking various items of clothing.
"I know but, just forgot how much. Can we go to that candy place, Ma? The con, confect," Brian frowned, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
"Confectionary. No, Brian," Michaela finished placing the rest of her clothing into the wardrobe.
"Aww." The young boy continued to examine the room, his disappointment obvious.
"Right, come along." Michaela glanced down at her medical bag on the corner of the large bed, before she quickly opened it and retrieved the small purse.
"Where we goin', Ma?" Brian tilted his head, however obediently made his way to the door.
"Where I say we're going, Brian." Michaela attempted to hide her distraction, her eyes locking on the large black bag a final time, as she arrived by the door with only her small, blue purse.
"Ain't ya takin' it, Ma?" Brian raised his right hand forwards, noticing Michaela's preoccupation as she opened the door once again.
"No, sweetheart. Let's, let's go," Michaela drew a refreshing breath, guiding the child out into the hallway and closing the door behind her.