Chapter 72
"Straight flush, come to Papa!" Hank took a long drag on his cigar as he splayed the cards precisely out on the table.
"Aww," Loren threw his hand down, the cards sliding across the green felt table.
"Guess that wraps up the game," Hank smirked proudly, reaching forwards to claim all the chips.
A young cowboy was the first to pull himself to his feet, kicking the wooden chair out of the way as he shoved his hat back on his head and strode furiously from the room.
"Yeah, too right it does. You even won that twenty dollars you owed me for whiskey," Loren shook his head, leaning forwards to start gathering the cards into a pile.
"Oh, I did, didn't I?" Hank chuckled, finishing his cigar and butting it out on the underside of his shoe.
"Speaking of which," Loren fished around in his vest, eventually locating his tarnished pocket watch, "stage is late today. Already gone two."
"It better get in soon. Had to water the whiskey down again, and couple a customers complained it was gettin' weaker," Hank muttered, standing from the card table and pacing across the room to the bar.
Loren finished collating the deck of cards and placed it neatly in the center of the round table.
Hank glanced around the room, as he idly stacked some empty glasses behind the bar.
"So, business been pretty good lately, then?" Loren rested his elbows on the edge of the bar, cupping his chin in his left hand.
"Not bad. Guess ya heard, Jake's been making himself a frequent patron at my little establishment." Hank tilted a bottle of his private stock of whiskey in front of Loren questioningly.
"He been in here again? Thought the talk I'd had with him last week straightened him out." Loren shook his head.
"Well, sure didn't. Been in here almost every night, even bought a couple a bottles off me last Saturday. Thought he'd buy 'em from you, save money but, he didn't wanna." Hank poured the two small shots of whiskey, sliding Loren's across the bar to him.
"Nah, he wouldn't a come to me. Knows I wouldn't a sold him the stuff. Don't think his drinkin' is a good idea." Loren sipped on his whiskey, as Hank did likewise. After several moments, the store owner paused and leaned forwards. "How much he have to drink anyway?" Loren slowly placed the glass back on the edge of the bar.
"Too much. Comes in after work, stays 'til either I kick him out, or he falls asleep right at a table." Hank's face softened, into what, for Hank, could be described as concern. "Even tried to ask 'im what's brought on the drinkin', just about bit my head off."
"Yeah, he ain't doin' too well at the moment." Loren took another sip of his drink.
"Startin' to think that myself," Hank finished his drink in a quick gulp, setting the glass down slowly.
"Then quit servin' him. Ya don't want him gettin' sick again," Loren warned, tapping his fingers anxiously against the wooden surface.
"Why you bothered all of a sudden? Never known you to miss out on the chance to make some easy money." Hank flashed Loren a smug grin of competition.
"I told ya; ain't about the money, Hank. Jake ain't himself at the moment, and I ain't gonna contribute to his troubles, sellin' him alcohol. If ya got any decency, neither will you," Loren pleaded, sliding his empty glass back across the table.
"All's I know is, his money's as good as the next fella's. Jake's a grown man; he wants to drink himself into an early grave, then that's up to him." Hank reasoned, tossing a handful of long, wavy hair back over his left shoulder.
Loren checked his pocket watch once again. "Have to get back. Left Dorothy in charge. Was gonna wait here 'til the stage got in, but gettin' late now." He stood back up from the bar and straightened his jacket. "I'll bring that whiskey down to ya just as soon as it," Loren trailed off, both men hearing the distinctive sound of the trotting horses. "Well, what do ya know. Come on, ya can get it yaself." He waved Hank away from the bar, both men walking across the room and through the doors out onto the porch of the Saloon.
"Thought delivery was included in the price, Loren?" Hank grumbled as the two men paced down towards the Mercantile, the stage slowly coming to a stop.
"I got a bad back," Loren defended, watching as assorted townspeople began milling around the stagecoach.
"Yeah, yeah," Hank dismissed, separating from Loren, and beginning to work his way through the crowd to collect his merchandise once it was unloaded.
Loren walked patiently around the back of the half a dozen or so townspeople, seeing Dorothy appear on the porch, as the driver climbed down from his seat.
Horace stepped forward to take the mail pouch, as Loren cast his gaze superficially back to the stagecoach. It wasn't until then that the older man noticed the small head of blond hair.
He looked again. It moved.
Arriving by Dorothy's side on the edge of the porch outside his store, Loren brushed her arm lightly. "Dorothy, there anyone in there?"
"What, Loren?" the redhead replied, having been lost in her own thoughts.
"The stage, thought I saw," Loren shook his head, as Dorothy raised her left hand to shield her eyes.
"Didn't look," she spoke frankly, squinting to see if there was anyone inside the small coach.
Horace took the large mail pouch from the driver, securing it tightly under his shoulder. "Thanks, waitin' awhile. Was startin' to think ya wouldn't be makin' it."
"Oh, no, just got delayed a bit. Got a pregnant lady onboard. She was findin' the trip mighty uncomfortable, poor thing. Made a few extra stops." The driver smiled, as Horace signed the small clipboard in receipt of the mail pouch.
"I know all about that, my wife's expectin' too," Horace handed the clipboard back to the driver, Hank managing to push through the crowd, after his whiskey.
"Enough a this gabbin', Horace. Ya got supplies, don't ya?" Hank addressed the driver forcefully.
"Sure, just give me a moment," he climbed back up to begin unloading the cargo.
Sully, still seated to Michaela's left, noticed her hand clench, as Brian eagerly flung the door open.
Sully reached for her left hand, entwining his fingers with hers. "Michaela, I'm goin' after Brian, then Colleen," he trailed off, meeting eyes with Matthew sternly.
"Then you and me, Ma," the young man finished confidently.
Michaela sighed, looking from each of them, as Colleen remained in her seat next to Matthew and Brian raced across the street.
"All right," Michaela kept her head lowered, drawing a weary breath, as Sully moved his hand to her shoulder.
"I'll be right in front a ya, Matthew'll be behind ya. We just have to get from here, to the Clinic. Matthew'll get the wagon and then home. Ain't no-one ya gotta talk to if ya don't want," his eyes were fixed on hers as he waited for a sign of acknowledgement.
Michaela turned her head, noticing the small crowd of townspeople awaiting supplies and chatting amongst themselves.
"You can do this." Sully leant forwards to squeeze her shoulder a final time, "I know you can." He nodded to Matthew made his down way from the stage.
"Loren. Loren, quick!" Dorothy clamped her hand around his right arm, having spotted the stagecoach door open and the little boy jump out.
"Brian?" Loren's brow wrinkled, as the young boy looked around the crowd, the pair locking eyes immediately.
"Loren, if Brian's back, then," Dorothy's eyes widened.
"You're thinkin'?" The older man darted his eyes in either direction through the few heads between him and the stagecoach.
"Hey, Mr. Bray!" The young boy ran towards him, throwing his arms happily around Loren's waist.
"Aww, Brian. I missed ya boy." He clasped the back of the child's head, pulling him into a tight embrace.
Dorothy dropped her jaw open, her large eyes still focused on the stage. "Brian, your ma there?" she couldn't resist voicing the question that had been burning at her.
"Uh-huh." He looked up from Loren's embrace, all three turning back to watch Sully step down onto the dusty ground.
"Hey, that's Sully," Horace's mouth gaped with intrigue, stepping back and arriving by Hank's side.
"What do ya want, a prize?" the Saloon owner muttered sarcastically, clicking his tongue loudly against the inside of his mouth as he kept his eyes locked on the stagecoach, one possibility having sprung to mind.
By the time Sully had turned around to help Colleen down the awkward steps, the small group of onlookers had simultaneously reached the same conclusion; Brian, Sully, Colleen, then surely Dr Mike would follow.
Dorothy looked from the top of the little boy's head to Loren's concerned face. "Loren, you gonna just stand there?" she spoke, her voice thin with apprehension and disjointed with nerves.
"'Course I ain't. Come along, son," Loren took the young boy by the hand and made his way to the front of the crowd, arriving in between Hank and Horace.
"What's all the hold up, never seen it take so long!" Hank brought his hands to his hips, as he watched the driver continue to unload boxes and bags from the storage area.
"There's Colleen, reckon Dr Mike gotta be," Horace squinted, "Yeah, can see her and Matthew. That's a bit strange, driver said the lady," Horace dismissed the concern immediately; there must have simply been another passenger on board between Denver and Soda Springs.
"She's waitin' for a reason." Loren's jaw began to tighten and drop. He alternated his eyes between the stagecoach and Hank worriedly.
"Didn't think they'd all be back this quickly. Everything must be all right. I'd best go start sortin' the mail." Horace dismissed the older man's concerns, clutching the bag under his shoulder, as he moved away back towards the telegraph office.
"Hank, if I hear one word outa your mouth, you're gonna be gettin' whiskey from Soda Springs personally in the future." Loren spoke in a slow, dark tone, his mouth barely moving.
"What ya talkin' 'bout? 'Least we got the doc back now. Maybe she'll be able to talk some sense into Jake like she did last time." Hank shook his head as Colleen moved away from the door, Sully turning back around. Several people had by that time, deliberately focused their attention on the stagecoach.
"Not a word, Hank." Loren rubbed the side of his forehead as he let out a deep breath of concern.
"You go ahead, Matthew," Michaela surveyed the awaiting crowd through the window, secure in the knowledge that in her seated position, her condition was concealed.
"No, Ma, go on. I'll be right behind ya." Matthew encouraged, extending his right hand out to her. "Please, Ma, ain't gonna get any easier," he reasoned, as she hesitantly took his hand and pulled herself to her feet.
"I know." Michaela slipped her hand away from her son's, smoothing out the sides of her dark green dress.
Matthew took a step behind her, as Michaela felt a heaviness in her feet. Her hands began to tingle with anxiety, as she looked up and saw Sully by the doorway.
"We're all here for ya, Ma," Matthew tentatively moved his left hand to her lower back, as Michaela lowered her head enough to make it through the narrow space.
Her breathing had risen in her chest as she looked down to carefully place her right foot on the first metal step.
"Michaela," she reached automatically to Sully's offered hand, never even hearing his hushed voice. The pounding of her own heart was deafening.
"It's true," Dorothy exhaled in a long-held breath, as she saw her friend's familiar plait of hair over her shoulder, Michaela's head still lowered as she slowly arrived down onto the ground.
"There ya go," Sully whispered.
Michaela swallowed, trying to settle her irregular breathing, as she contemplated what to do with her hands.
This is ridiculous, why does everything sound so quiet? Look up, Michaela.
She felt Sully's hand drop away from her.
You're on your own, you can do this. Look up; Find someone you trust and just look at them.
Having taken two small steps away, Michaela turned around to see Matthew climbing down after her. It wasn't until his right foot had touched the ground that the first distinguishable utterance was heard.
"Michaela, welcome ba, hell! How did- ugh!" Hank felt Loren's elbow hard in his ribcage before he'd even realized the words had left his mouth.
" Shut it!" the older man hissed through clenched teeth.
Michaela looked involuntarily in the direction of the voices, her mouth opening in defense as her eyes met Hank's.
Hank saw her react to his words, glimpsing her vacant, hurt expression as the pain in his chest dissipated. He was the first to break the eye contact, looking down to kick a stone away with his shoe.
"C'mon," Sully reached back for her arm, fighting every impulse to storm across the small distance between them and knock Hank's teeth down his throat.
Michaela felt his hand lock around her wrist, as she tore her eyes away from Hank's dropped head.
Another moving object to her right caught her attention. Michaela hadn't managed to move more than a step before Dorothy arrived next to her. The outspoken, if well-intentioned redhead, brought a hand to the back of Michaela's right shoulder.
"Oh, Michaela. I, I'm so sorry." Dorothy shook her head miserably, expecting Michaela to politely accept her sympathy and perhaps even apologize for her unannounced departure.
Michaela's partially dropped jaw was instantly accompanied by a cringe of awkwardness and disbelief.
"I wish ya had a told me," Dorothy continued, glancing deliberately down towards Michaela's stomach.
"Dorothy, really don't think," Sully sighed, slipping his hand away from Michaela's.
"I'm sorry, I just," Dorothy brushed several strands of loose hair away from her left cheek, dropping her hand back to her side.
Michaela alternated her gaze between Sully and Dorothy, feeling her hands begin to ache with pins and needles. Curling them into tight fists, she caught the edges of her skirt between her fingers and let her eyes move through the crowd.
Michaela rested her eyes on Loren's glum expression. She looked down and saw his arms rested on each of Brian's shoulders.
I have to get away from here.
She swallowed once again, this only causing her next breath to be even higher and more frantically snatched.
Sully had only just returned his gaze to her, when he saw Michaela move forwards, both hands gripped tightly to the sides of her skirt as she pushed herself into a very purposeful, brisk walk.
"Michaela?" Sully frowned, Matthew and Colleen rushing up to him, all watching her briskly leave.
"She all right, Sully?" Dorothy gripped his arm with concern.
"Ah, no. To be perfectly honest, she's not," he replied hastily, his words being delivered with less-than-hidden sarcasm.
"Matthew, get our bags, will ya? Colleen, bring Brian over as soon as ya can. Think we all just need to get home." Sully had already begun to follow after Michaela.
The older children nodded lightly, Colleen looking back at Dorothy awkwardly.
"That sure explains a lot," Hank eventually plucked up the resolve to come out with another wisecrack.
"Keep it shut, Hank," Loren warned once again, patting Brian's back and directing him over towards Dorothy.
"Oh, Colleen. Why didn't ya say somethin'?" Dorothy maternally fixed the upturned edge of the girl's sleeve.
Colleen shrugged, rubbing her younger brother's upper arms, as she watched Michaela arrive by the Clinic door, reach for the key, unlock it, and disappear inside.
"Weren't nothin' to say. Dr Mike wanted it kept quiet, 'til," Colleen stopped abruptly, and quickly corrected herself. "She wanted it kept quiet, until she'd had a chance to see a doctor, make sure everything was all right."
"There, there. Now you don't gotta keep anything from me." Dorothy spoke cryptically, given Brian's close range, having no idea as to the extent of the drama the little boy had experienced.
"Um, Miss Dorothy." Colleen looked down at her hands fidgeting at her waist. "Was, was wonderin', didn't like to ask or nothin', and Dr Mike wouldn't want me sayin' anything but, we're just all worried that she's gonna have trouble managin' with everything 'round the homestead and, she didn't want me missin' school or nothin'." Brian pulled away from her, to go and help Matthew collect the luggage.
"Oh, don't you worry about that, dear. I'll pop out there tomorrow morning and don't fret; Michaela won't know you so much as spoke to me," Dorothy assured the young girl immediately.
"Thanks. I better," she tilted her head towards the Clinic.
"Want me to come speak with her now?" Dorothy took a step after Colleen.
"Um, maybe best give it a day; she ain't really herself. Lots a stuff happened, and she gets really emotional real easy," Colleen separated her fingers, sighing in exhaustion.
"Well dear, that's to be expected." Dorothy smiled with understanding. "But I'll come by tomorrow."
"Thanks," Colleen concluded, increasing the length of her stride and walking determinedly across the busy street towards the clinic.
"There, they gone now, so ain't offending nobody. How the hell did that happen?" Hank chuckled, as Loren handed him the case of whiskey.
"You really are dafter than I thought. Just show some respect, for once in your miserable life." Loren placed the case of whiskey forcefully into Hank's outstretched arms, the Saloon owner adjusting his grip quickly so as to avoid dropping the wooden crate.
"Oh, sure, respect. Respect? Michaela Quinn's always tellin' us what to do, what not to do, tryin' to run everybody's lives and now look at her. Well, serves the lady right." Hank looked once again across to the closed Clinic door. "She ain't gonna be poking her nose into no-one's business from now on."
"Aww, Hank, ain't her fault. Don't care how she was, ain't no-one deserves somethin' like this." Loren carried the first box of supplies over to the porch of the Mercantile, Hank remaining on his heels.
"Seems to me, Michaela endin' up in a mess like this, just her own doin'. Always knew she was too high and mighty for her own good." Hank moved the heavy crate to his right shoulder, Loren placing a hand on his aching back, quickly becoming fed up with Hank's lack of compassion.
"Now you listen to me, Hank. Dr Mike saved your life not that long ago and I don't want you talkin' like that about her. Gonna be hard enough Sully and those children gettin' her through this. What they need is our help." Loren walked back to the side of the stagecoach for the second crate of supplies.
"Ha! Sully? You gotta be kidding me. Think he's done more than enough damage. Michaela wouldn't a ended up like this if it weren't for him," he chuckled again, just thinking about the irony. "Aww, wait 'til I tell Jake!"
"Hank, wait!" Loren found his voice quickly, having decided to ignore the younger man's rantings. "You, you can't tell Jake."
"Oh, no, Loren! I said it first, I'm tellin' him. You, you can tell the Rev," Hank protested. "Hmm, rather have liked to be there for that one, too."
"Hank, now just you listen for once. I'm tellin' ya, ya can't tell Jake and I mean it this time; I find out you told him, I will make you go all the way to Soda Springs yourself for that whiskey." Loren threatened, pointing his index finger squarely into Hank's chest.
"All right, old man but I'm tellin' the preacher and Robert E.," Hank asserted, before turning and sidling back to his Saloon, a smug grin plastered across his unshaven face.
~.~
X.O.X
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"Michaela!" Sully swung the door closed behind him, as they both arrived into the examination room.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed as she spun around, both hands clasped to her mouth. Her shoulders rose and fell with each gasped breath.
"Whoa, hey. Everythin's fine," he reassured her, reaching for her wrists to lower her arms.
"No, it's not! I can't go back out there!" her breathing uneven, "I, I can't face them!" Michaela slipped her arms from his grasp, turning back around to rest her hands against the off-white linen sheet folded over the examination table.
"It's gonna be all right. Matthew's gettin' the luggage and the wagon. Then we can all go home and you can take as long as," Sully stopped when he saw her head drop and her fists clench tighter either side of her.
"How do you expect me to live here like this? How can I ever earn their respect back!" Michaela's breathing was ragged. Thrown by her outburst, Sully took a step backwards.
"Michaela, you don't gotta earn anyone's respect back. You just have to take care of yourself and sure, might take some time, but once people see you're the same person ya always were, they'll come 'round." Sully again moved closer towards her, able to hear the intensity of her breathing. "Calm down," he whispered, placing a hand on Michaela's left shoulder.
"I want to go home, Sully," she spoke softly, her head still lowered.
Sully nodded. "We will."
Sully turned as he heard the door open behind him.
"Matthew's getting the wagon," Colleen muttered, as she and Brian slipped into the room.
"Thanks, gonna get ya ma home, tucked into bed for a few hours." Sully moved away from Michaela, only so far as to lean back against the examination table on her left side.
"And I can make supper," Colleen contributed, as Brian spotted his cup and ball game rested on the end of the long, wooden bench.
He placed his mother's medical bag next to the toy. Excitedly, he picked up the game, and began tossing the little ball up and down.
"Aw, yeah, and I can see Pup. Really missed bein' home," the little boy's cheerful tone resonated through the otherwise silent room.
"Think we all have, Brian," Sully added, as Michaela, her composure regained, turned around to face the children.
The room fell into silence, everyone absorbing themselves in watching Brian struggle to secure the ball in the wooden cup. This continued for several minutes, until Colleen heard the unmistakable sounds of approaching horses.
She opened the door to the Clinic, Sully meeting Michaela's gaze.
"We'll be home soon," he encouraged, brushing her arm.
Brian quickly discarded the primitive game and darted eagerly outside. Michaela followed behind the young boy, retrieving her medical bag and arriving out onto the porch.
"Robert E. brought them all into town," the young girl gestured to the harnessed Bear, and the three horses the blacksmith was leading.
"And the wolves too, by the looks a things," Sully chuckled, walking over to the back of the wagon to pat Pup on the head and rub Wolf's muzzle. "Hey ya, boy."
"Great, I get to ride Taffy home!" Brian's face lit up into a bright smile.
The little boy climbed proficiently onto his horse, as Matthew pulled Scout into a halt.
"What about?" Colleen gestured to Flash, as Sully helped Michaela up onto the wagon.
"Colleen?" Matthew raised his arm towards the horse, as he jumped down from the wagon and mounted Scout.
"I guess so," she cringed slightly, nonetheless, accepted Robert E.'s help and took the reins.
"Ready?" Sully tightened his grip on Bear's reins, turning to Michaela a final time before pushing the horse into a slow walk.
"Race ya home, Matthew?" Brian asked, looking from his brother to his mother as the entourage made their way down the main street.
"Dr Mike?" Matthew called, looking back towards Brian.
"All right, just be careful." Michaela allowed. A small smile crossed her lips as she watched the boys delight in the competition.
In a dusty cloud of gallops, they quickly vanished from view.
"Ya stayin' with us, Colleen?" Sully smiled.
"You bet I am. The slower Flash moves the better, as far as I'm concerned." She nervously squeezed the horse's belly as the mare obediently obeyed and increased her pace, knowing that horse-riding was the absolute last thing she felt like doing.
Sully shook his head with a laugh, as he increased Bear's speed to match Flash's.
Michaela turned, looking back up the main street, seeing the small gathering of townspeople start to dissipate. Her gaze wandered over familiar faces, eventually locking eyes with a somber-looking Loren as she felt the horses increase their speed.
Considering the distance they had traveled in the past week; home was now only a short way off.