But strangely enough there was none. It seemed that no one in the country wanted to come to the tiny town of Colorado Springs to set up a practice. And as each week went by, the Rev. grew more and more anxious. After all the trouble he'd gone through with the townsfolk, would they have no doctor?
Then, suddenly, in April it all changed. Horace, sitting as usual in the telegraph office, was busy sorting through mail when the wires began clicking away. Grabbing a pencil, he quickly wrote down the long message, followed by the name of its sender, Michael A. Quinn. Frowning, he quickly scribbled out the initial. Who'd care what his middle name was?
Reaching for his jacket, he raced out the door, remembering in the nick of time to close it and hang the sign up. He then raced over the bridge to the church.
"Reverend! Reverend!" he called out. The Rev. was perched on top a rickety ladder, hammering a shutter in place, with a few nails between his teeth.
"Reverend!" Horace shouted again, taking the man of cloth by surprise. The Rev. missed the nail by a mile and hit his thumb instead.
"Ow!!" grabbing a hold of his thumb he let the hammer drop. The sudden shift in movement caused the entire ladder to fall, and with it the Rev. "HORACE!!!!" he yelled.
"Sorry, Rev., " Horace blushed, helping the man up. "Fixing up the church?"
"Yes," said the Rev. "I think that's quite obvious." Horace looked taken aback and the Rev. sighed. "I'm sorry Horace," he said. "What can I do for you?"
"This telegram just came, and I know how important it is, so I brought it over."
"Thank you, Horace," said the Rev., taking the slip of paper from him. He read it over. "Horace, this is wonderful! I can't believe it! So much experience!" He quickly recounted the 7 years of private practice the man had been in with his father who had recently passed away.
"I can't believe that someone with so much experience would want to come out here. It's a miracle!" he shouted in glee. "We'll hold another town meeting tomorrow night to inform everyone!"
The town meeting was held and it was agreed that Colorado Spring's only applicant for town doctor, Michael Quinn, could have the job.
The acceptance telegram was sent out less than a week after Michael Quinn's query for the job. Now the entire town prepared themselves for the arrival of the doctor, as he had telegrammed back informing them he would be arriving in CS in late May.
Charlotte was very happy at the procurement, but a little sad as well. When the new doctor arrived, she would have to release her tiny bit of authority in the town. She could only hope that the man would allow her to keep working beside him, although she was very unsure that he would.
Treaty council had begun in early May much like Sully had predicted would happen in February. The Cheyenne had agreed to meet on "neutral" ground with Col. Chivington and his men - and what had been chosen was a part of the meadow where the church lay. Charlotte didn't see much of Sully during this time, but he had told her that he would be translating for the Cheyenne, and that the Army was negotiation for all the land north of Sand Creek.
May 20, 1867 opened up as a beautiful day, the first after a week of heavy rains. Colorado Springs woke up slowly, with the shopkeepers opening their shutters and doors with a flourish. The weather hadn't been this beautiful in a long time.
Rev. Timothy Johnson surveyed the negotiations going on not too far away from him as he opened his ladder and set about touching up the church with some paint. The repairs were finally almost done.
The Cooper children were dressed and already at their chores when Charlotte decided to take a walk around the town. She'd been cooped up inside the boarding house for almost a week and decided the fresh air would do her some good.
Stepping outside into the coolness, she inhaled deeply. "Good morning, Loren, Jake," she nodded at the two men standing outside the Mercantile, chatting away.
"Morning' Charlotte," Loren tipped nodded back and Jake did the same. "Mighty fine day."
Charlotte agreed and started to walk back past Robert E.'s. He was busy firing up the forge and it looked like he had a lot of work ahead of him.
Rounding the corner to her boarding house, she saw the saloon doors closed in this early morn after a hard night of partying. And then, gazing towards the meadow, she fixed her eyes upon the scene there.
The Colorado Springs she was now standing in was so much different from the one in which she had arrived in over 8 years ago. New people had come, old people had left.
Byron Sully. She now stared directly at him, watching him translate the Army's words to the Cheyenne. He was no longer the shy 24 year old who'd confided his first feelings of love to her. He had matured married, made a child and then lost it all. There had been that year where he'd disappeared - although she thought she knew where he'd been she'd never confronted him - and then his journey back in the world of Colorado Springs. A different man. Even without his outward appearance it was easy to tell how much the Cheyenne had affected him, and though she wasn't sure if Sully would ever recover from the loss of his wife and child, at least she knew he had something holding him up. Those days when she and him were true confidants were over, but she and Sully would always have a special bond.
And what of herself? What of the Coopers? From that long trek from Topeka to CS, she remembered both the good times and bad times she and Ethan had shared. She was reminded of the first night she spent in CS camping in the very spot the negotiations were taking place now - and of the night she gave birth to Brian while Sully helped. Brian. Her children, had grown so much. Matthew was 16, Colleen 12, and little Brian 8. They had all been so tiny when they first arrived!
Ethan. Even though he was gone, and even though he hadn't been much of a help - how she missed him so! She knew things would never be the same for the Coopers again, but deep down inside, she knew they'd be alright. The Coopers would always survive. Her hair blowing in the wind, she turned around slowly, surveying the land around her, until she finally came to a stop overlooking the majestic hills that lay in the background of Colorado Springs.
And over those hills outside Colorado Springs, unbeknownst to Charlotte, a lone stagecoach traveled.
Michaela Quinn, M.D. had come to town.
I hope you've enjoyed my story. I would love to hear any responses or reactions you have. Send any to me at mpagan@gmail.com
Please take a moment to look at the references for the story (over 250 in MS Word, single-spaced!) and the people who helped me write it. I take great pride in being as historically accurate as possible. Thanks!