The One Chosen

The One Chosen - Chapter One - Part 3 - written by: Jean McQuaid


Jenny Goldthorn examined the array of dresses she had carefully laid out on the bed. 'Which one to choose from', she thought to herself. She'd held each one up at a time over her petite frame in front of the mirror and still wasn't sure which one to put on. She was supposed to meet Charlotte downstairs and they were to dine at the Cafe, but she was having a very difficult time trying to decide which dress would be suitable.


This town was nothing like she had imagined it to be. She was hoping for a more cultured and refined atmosphere but instead she was being housed in the upper portion of a Saloon, which she totally disapproved of and the dust, why it was everywhere.


No, this was not her idea of living but her sister had insisted on coming here, specifically to Colorado Springs and for now she would just have to put up with it.


After much consideration, she finally decided on a soft blue dress with white lace trim around the neckline and tiny blue velvet bows. She had always been told that blue was her color. It made the deep blue of her eyes stand out which usually attracted the attention of many a gentleman.


After applying a few drops of rosewater behind each ear and once more admiring herself in the mirror, she headed across the hall to her sister's room.


Hank was busy pouring more rounds for the few customers that still remained in the Saloon when Jenny came down the stairs. All eyes were suddenly upon her and she began to blush as she felt the center of attention.


Not quite the type of gentlemen she was used to attracting but nevertheless, it did make her feel good.


"Mr. Lawson," she quietly said as she approached Hank at the bar," Do you know where my sister is? She was supposed to accompany me to dinner at the Cafe and I simply can't find her anywhere?"


Without giving her as much as a glance he replied, "She left 'bout an hour ago and ain't come back. Sorry but I can't help ya."


Jenny was baffled but not surprised. It wasn't the first time Charlotte had left her behind to fend for herself and she knew it wouldn't be the last.


They were so very different. Jenny was a quiet, refined lady like her mother and Charlotte, well she was stubborn and headstrong like her father.


Both women had totally different personalities and tastes and it was no wonder they didn't get along most of the time.


"May I be so bold as to escort you to the Cafe?" A charming and congenial Loren stepped forward. He had not taken his eyes off this exceptional creature from the moment she came down the stairs. He'd risen from his chair and had placed himself directly behind her now extending his arm in the hope she would accept his offer.


Jenny was unsure but didn't wish to stand in the middle of this establishment any longer and carefully but cautiously locked her arm with Loren's.


"Why thank you sir," she replied in her disciplined manner. "That would be very kind of you seeing that my sister has all but abandoned me. I would be delighted to join you Mr....?"


"Bray. But you can call me Loren...?"


"Jenny Goldthorn sir, but you may call me Jenny," she smiled back at him and the two left the saloon arm in arm as Hank, with his fiendish smile amused himself at their departure.


"I think your sister might have been the lady I saw go to the clinic with Dr. Mike. I figure it's your sister because you two look so very much alike," Loren said.


"To the clinic? I might have known," grumbled Jenny, "I'm afraid my sister is very devoted to her medical training and just can't help the urge to visit with doctors, especially gentlemen doctors."


Loren began to giggle, "Well actually, Dr. Mike is not a gentleman, she's a lady. Her real name is Michaela Quinn but everyone calls her Dr. Mike."


"A lady doctor, out here, in the middle of nowhere? That does seem quite odd. It's no wonder Charlotte is at this 'clinic'. Why I'll just bet she's over there right now checking up on that poor doctor. Charlotte has a nasty habit or tormenting doctors. She thinks most of them are incompetent rogues and should all be forbidden to practice medicine," Jenny disclosed.


"Well Dr. Mike is a good doctor and folks round here feel she's more than competent to look after them. Why don't you come and meet her for yourself" he asked, "That way you can see if your sister Charlotte is still over there."


"I think I shall. Which way is it Loren?" she asked "Right over here," pointed Loren as they headed for Michaela's medical office.


Charlotte was coming down the stairs when the two entered. "Well there you are sister!" declared Jenny. "I thought we were supposed to meet for dinner and if it hadn't been for this congenial gentleman, Loren here, why I would have been stranded, alone with a Saloon full of shameful drunks!"


"Oh just calm down now Jen. I was just trying to help the doctor out by staying to keep an eye on one of her patients so she could go home for the night. And since when did it ever bother you to be 'stranded' as you put it, in a room full of men!! I would have thought you might have enjoyed that," she laughed and held out her hand to an astonished Loren. "Hi, you must be my sister's knight in shinning armour. I'm Charlotte Goldthorn."


Loren took her hand and shook it. He could feel the difference in her touch. She was more tenacious and had a certain flair about her that he couldn't quite understand but he would very much like to.


"Just call me Loren. Don't tell me you're a lady doctor too? Why it was hard enough for Dr. Mike to get accepted by the folks round here, don't know how they'd take to another one," Loren reflected.


"No I'm afraid I didn't get quite that far in medical school. I sir am just a nurse. An angel of mercy. We do all the dirty work and the doctors get all the credit for it," she sighed.


"A nurse ah? Well can't say as I've ever met a nurse before. Did Dr. Mike send for you to come and help her at the clinic? I knew there was somthin' wrong with her. Why she hasn't been herself in a while, ever since she lost the baby," he disclosed.


The two women stood silent. Charlotte had figured something was upsetting Michaela but was overwhelmed with sympathy for her. Losing a child had a very devastating effect on a woman and from the type of woman she deduced Dr. Quinn to be in the brief time she'd known her, knew all too well the pain she must be feeling. She'd seen it before in the hospital. Some women were able to bounce back rather quickly and went on with their lives but others, well they went into such deep states of depression, many never fully recovered.


"Oh dear, that's simply horrid. The poor woman," cried Jenny as she put her hand to her mouth.


"Well actually it's the second one she's lost. Her and Sully got four kids but only one of 'em is their own, the other three went to live with them when their own ma died. Yep," Loren sighed as he put his hand in his pocket and stared down at the floor, "Dr. Mike and Sully been through some mighty tough times but I haven't seen 'em as sad as they are over the loss of this one."


Again silence. Charlotte was despondent and had to sit herself down at the desk. She reached inside the pocket of her apron and withdrew a hanky to wipe away the tears that started to burn in her eyes. One loss would be enough to put most women over the edge but two, this was incomprehensible and for the first time in her life she was at a loss for words.


"Well one must look on the bright side of things at a time like this," noted Jenny. "At least she has other children and that must be of some comfort to her."


Charlotte looked up at her sister. What did she know of the pain and suffering of losing a child. Jenny had never wanted children. She'd often said they were God's little gifts to some but the Devil's cruel trick to others. Neither of them had ever been married and having a family was simply out of the question with their type of lifestyles. But there'd been many times that Charlotte had ached to hold a baby of her own. She'd seen the love in a mother's eyes when first handed her new baby and had felt the pangs of remorse that she'd never found the right man to settle down with and have children of her own. No, she could identify with the loss that Michaela and her husband must be feeling and only hoped they could resume their lives and maybe, just maybe God would see fit to give them another chance. It wasn't always the best advice to give parents at a time like this but for some reason this situation was different. She shook her head and decided that now was not the right time to bring up such a sensitive notion with Michaela and it was best if she left things alone, after all who was she to be giving out this kind of personal advice.


"Well I am famished, what about you Charlotte?" Jenny broke the silence.


"I'm not very hungry right now and besides I promised Dr. Quinn I would stay to look after her patient. You two go on ahead and maybe you could bring me back something later," said Charlotte as she rose from the chair and ushered them towards the door.


"All right but only if you're sure?" asked Jenny


"I'm sure," she replied "Now go on and enjoy yourselves. I'll be just fine. I'm quite capable of looking after myself. Now go!" and with that she slammed the door behind them sending Jenny into the unsuspecting arms of Loren Bray.





Michaela finally stepped down from the wagon. She had decided to leave the team hitched up and would get Brian to put them in the barn for the night.


She was far too tired and didn't trust her ability at this point. Her heart ached as much as her body and all she planned to do was retire early, to be alone in her room where she could cry out her frustrations and hope that she would be at last, blessed with sleep. As she opened the door to the homestead she was unaware of the group that were awaiting her arrival. There they stood, Brian, Matthew and Colleen. All three of them had worried looks on their faces and it was obvious she'd interrupted their intense conversation, which had been no doubt, about her.


"Brian, could you please unhitch the wagon for me and bed the horses for the night," she asked as she hung her coat up and started to head for the stairs not wanting to converse with them.


But they were determined and when Matthew blocked her way she knew she couldn't avoid the matter any longer. It hadn't been fair to keep the truth from them, after all they were a family and had every right to know what had happened between her and Sully. But she didn't know how to explain something she herself, didn't understand. All she knew at this point was that she would try to answer their questions as best she could and hope they'd be satisfied with that for now.


Matthew was the first to speak, "Ma can we talk to you for a minute, please?" he pleaded.


She looked into their faces and then slowly went to take a chair near the fire. "What would you like to talk about?"


Colleen noting the dark circles under her mother's eyes and the sluggish manner in which she moved across the room, couldn't stand it any longer. She moved to her mother's side and knelt down, putting her head in the lap of the woman whom she'd grown to respect and so deeply love.


"Ma I can't stand to see you so unhappy. Won't you please tell us how we can help? What happened between you and Sully? Please let us help you."


Michaela was touched by the sincere tone of Colleen's voice and began to sob. At first she tried to keep it silent but as the tears flowed they unleashed the aching need inside her to share this grief with someone, anyone. She could hold back no more. The children could do nothing but watch and wait. Wait for her to compose herself enough to speak. They knew this was what she needed to do no matter how much they felt her pain, they stood back as their mother wept.


Brian had slipped out to tend to the horses and it wasn't until he'd returned that Michaela, weak and drained had finally stopped.


She wiped the tears from her cheeks and eyes and stared into the fire. Her voice was low and somber but they could hear every word she said.


"Sully and I had a terrible fight. He slammed the door behind him a week ago and I haven't heard a word from him since. I have no idea where he is or even if he'll ever come back."


"But ma," started Brian," You and Sully had fights before and you two could always work it out."


"I'm afraid it's different this time Brian. You see I think Sully blames me for the loss of the baby. He became distant with me and there was an anger inside of him that I've never seen before. I don't know how to fix it this time Brian. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," she sighed.


"But it wasn't your fault you lost the baby. Sully knows that," replied Colleen, now standing up to look down at her mother.


"That's right," continued Matthew," He'll be back. He loves you."


All Michaela could do was stare back into the flames of the slowly dimming fire. She was tired of carrying this burden on her own shoulders and finally had the opportunity to share it with her children. But to pray that it would work itself out and everything would be back to 'all right' was just a dream. Unless she had some kind of word from Sully soon, she wouldn't be able to keep all hopes alive.


Her will to go on was slowly fading and for the first time in her life she was feeling truly alone.


Not even since her father had passed away had she felt so alone in the world and only wished that the same determination that had brought her out west would return and help her get through this. But it was out of her hands now. Since she had no way of knowing where Sully was or what he was thinking, she couldn't take control of the situation and that scared her.





"It's true, every word of it. I swear to you on my dear mother's grave. Why ever would anyone make something that terrifying up?" stated Jenny.


She and Loren had attracted quite a crowd at the Cafe and Jenny was her usual over-talkative self. Loren had hoped for a quiet dinner with this eloquent lady and here she was rambling on about her grandmother who'd been stolen by a band of Indians up north. Why if he didn't know any better he would think that she enjoyed being the center of attention and that these people were more than willing to oblige her.


Jenny continued," Yes she was just a young girl on her way home with two boy schoolmates, when they were met by a number of Indians who compelled them to take them to their home. Seems that Margaret's mother, that was my Grandmother's name, well her mother was home alone as her husband and older son had gone to the mill to have some grain ground, a journey which took them overnight. When the Indians reached their home they ransacked it, taking what food, bedding and clothing they could find and destroying what they didn't want. They ripped open mattresses and pillows and threw the feathers all around. They made bundles of their loot and forced her and her mother to carry them on their backs to the Indian encampment. Her mother was taken back home and threatened with death if she gave any alarm. While the Indians were on the rampage in the cabin, her mother was terrified for in a wooden cradle Margaret's baby sister lay sound asleep. Somehow the Indians missed seeing the baby and it was almost certain they would have killed her but when Margaret's mother returned, she was still asleep. In the morning when her husband returned, there was no sign of her Indian guard and the Indians, though they had promised to return the children the next morning, had in fact disappeared without a trace."


"Oh my," gasped Dorothy Jennings who by this time had joined the attentive crowd. "How did she escape?"


Jenny noticing that she had her audience captivated continued, "Well, poor Margaret was lost to her parents for three years. The boys, sadly never returned to theirs. She was put in the charge of an Indian squaw who never let her out of her sight. She was painted red and was treated well but this band were wanderers, moving from place to place, possibly to avoid white people who were ever on the alert when a white child was seen with Indians."


Margaret was often hungry as she could not eat the food her poor captors were reduced to eat. She kept a little parcel of corn cakes with her, hidden away so that if the opportunity to run away ever came, she wouldn't starve. Her chance arrived at last after three long years. Margaret was now fifteen and the Indians were going to marry her to the chief. They were, at this time, somewhere in the vicinity of Niagara Falls and preparations were under way for the wedding celebrations. All the Indians had gone to a swamp to gather evergreens to decorate the wigwams. It was in the dead of winter and Margaret was keeping warm by a fire in the center of the wigwam, when she heard sleigh bells. She rushed through the fire and jumped into the back of the sleigh. She was quickly covered up with buffalo robes and driven off at full speed as her father lashed out at the Indians with his bull whip and they in return were shouting and wielding their tomahawks at him.


They reached an inn at Niagara-On-The-Lake with the Indians in full pursuit. For three days the Indians raged and cried around that inn but were unable to reach her or even see her. They had been kind to her in their own way and were ever on the watch for her."


The group was silent until Hank broke a match and lit up another cigar.


"Ain't no parent would want his daughter back after what them injuns probably did to her. If that'd been my granny I'd a killed em all!"


"Oh Hank," cried Dorothy still fascinated by Jenny's tale. "You know as well as I do that there are some good Indians and some bad ones, just like there are some good white folk and some that's well...just plain trash!"


"Not as far as I can see. I still think the only good injun is a dead one," Hank replied.


"I was wondering why I hadn't seen any Indians around and I guess I've found my answer," said an obviously irritated Charlotte.


She'd decided since the patient's husband was with her for now, she would take this opportunity to steal off to the Cafe for something to eat as hunger finally got the better of her. She'd hoped however, that her sister Jenny would have long since departed.


"Oh Charlotte," stuttered Jenny, "I didn't expect to see you here?"


"Obviously," replied the angered sister. "I think the Indians have had enough trouble. They certainly don't need any more help from the likes of you!"


"Sounds to me like you're one of them sympathizers?" remarked Hank, tilting his hat to get a better look at the anger which was now engulfing Charlotte's face. "We already got enough of 'em round here."


"Well Mr. Lawson if the truth be known, I don't think there can be too many 'sympathizers' as you put it. I have no quarrels with the Indians. In fact, I have always tried to be partisan to 'anyone' who has been treated in my estimation, unfair,"


"You' n Sully. Every time he tries to help them injuns,we pay for it!" Hank was equally irate.


Jenny feeling rather embarrassed by her sister's words, stood up and crossed over to stand between Charlotte and Hank who seemed to be destined for some kind of dangerous confrontation.


"You'll have to excuse my sister. She seems to have forgotten that it was her own grandmother that was kidnapped by these savages and I for one will never forgive them for what she was put through."


Charlotte was infuriated. She could see that there was no changing this man's mind and frankly she didn't care to. But she was equally displeased with her sister's actions and that was something she could deal with.


"The Indians treated our grandmother with respect and kindness. They loved her as if she'd been one of their own. No harm ever came to her while she was in their care and I think for that Jenny, we should be thankful to them."


"Thankful! Charlotte how do you expect me to be thankful to a bunch of..."


Jenny was silenced by her sister.


"Let's not get into it now Jenny. I'm tired and hungry and I don't have the patience to deal with your insensitivity right now," and with that Charlotte walked away leaving her sister to stew in her own pot.


She took a seat next to Dorothy. "I'm Charlotte Goldthorn, please tell me something, that is if you're not one of those Indian haters?"


Little did Charlotte know that Dorothy of all people would probably be the best person to converse with at this moment. After Dorothy's close friendship with Cloud Dancing, she too had taken up the plight of the Indian and was glad to see that this stranger was of the same opinion as she was.


"I'm Dorothy Jennings," she smiled and shook Charlotte's hand. "I'm the editor of the town's gazette and no, I'm not an Indian hater. In fact I've printed many articles to try to help people understand just how badly the white people have treated them."


"Glad to meet you Dorothy. Tell me one thing," asked a relieved Charlotte, "This Sully, is he Dr. Quinn's husband? I think I heard Loren Bray mention something to that effect?"


"Why yes, he is. Michaela kept her maiden name when they got married. His first name is actually Byron but he prefers to be called just Sully," replied Dorothy.


"Well it sounds to me like this Sully and I have something in common," remarked Charlotte. "Do you think Dr. Quinn would mind if I met him some day?" she asked.


Dorothy took her time before she could answer, "Well I'm sure she wouldn't mind the only thing is, Sully hasn't been around for days and I'm kinda worried about the two of them. I think somethins' wrong but Michaela hasn't spoken to me about it yet. But if I happen to see him I'll be sure an tell him about you."


Charlotte was starting to put the pieces together now. Not only had Dr. Quinn been upset about losing her baby but it seemed as if her husband and her had fought about it. Again her heart went out to the gentle doctor and she wasn't sure how she could help but knew in her heart that now, she must try.





With the breakfast dishes cleared away and Katie all dressed and ready to go, Michaela figured it was time she head into town to see how Miss Goldthorn had made out looking after her patient last night. She was still a little tired but feeling much better than she did the previous day. She did get her first good nights sleep since Sully had left and had found much comfort from her children. They'd been left out in the dark far too long and not only did they need to be told of the situation, she needed them to know. They'd all stayed up quite late talking and when Andrew finally came to fetch Colleen, Michaela was ready for bed.


When he first entered the homestead the scene which had greeted him seemed unreal for there in front of the fireplace was the whole family laughing at some little thing Katie had done that day.


He'd thought that Colleen's concern about her mother's health was unnecessary but taking a closer look at the red, swollen eyes of Michaela, he could see that the family had tried to raise her spirits and somehow it was only a temporary measure. Michaela had done something upon seeing Andrew's smiling, confused face that even she couldn't understand but felt it was something she wanted, no needed to do.


She had risen from her chair and moved with such haste to throw her arms around him that it took all of them by surprise. Andrew, sensing her need for comfort was more than happy to return the hug and they stood in the doorway for quite some time. It wasn't until she felt her eyes close that she sprang back and announced that it was time for bed and that she did have to get to the clinic early the next morning to check on a patient.


When Andrew and Colleen had said their final goodbyes and Matthew and Brian had turned in, Michaela slowly made her way up the stairs to her room. It was getting harder and harder to face the empty bed but tonight she would not think about it as being empty. This was a place where she could at last find rest. But upon entering the bedroom the first thing that caught her eye was the beautifully hand carved headboard that Sully had made as a wedding present for her. She remembered an unannounced visit to the homestead she had made just before the horrors they faced at Washita.


She was always in wonder of Sully's talents but this was something she hadn't expected. It was a masterpiece in her mind and when Sully had quietly stole into the room, watching her ease her hands over the carved surface of the wood, she couldn't help but smile. They had come so close that day to breaking all the rules and now looking back she felt a little pang of embarrassment as she wished they had. So much had happened after that.


The effect that Washita had on her was devastating and she'd put all memory of that special day at the homestead behind her. But now it was those special moments that she must hold onto for they might be all she had left of him and nothing could ever take them away, not even his absence. He would be here with her, forever. And she slept and dreamed of happier times, alone with the man she loved.


The One Chosen - Chapter Two - Part 1 - written by: Sandi Plewis


"When a white army battles Indians and wins, it is called a great victory, but if they lose, it is called a massacre."


- Chiksika, Shawnee


In the summer of 1874 news of gold strikes in the Black Hills reached the ears of General William Tecumseh Sherman.


He quickly dispatched Custer to lead a survey expedition into the region. Sherman ignored the fact that this land was protected by the Fort Laramie treaty of 1868 and had been set aside for the use of the Sioux.


Upon Custer’s return, word of the survey leaked out and, within weeks, prospectors were swarming through the Black Hills and surrounding areas, setting up their sluice boxes on Indian land and disregarding all promises written down in the treaty.


Miners invaded the protected lands of many Indian nations from the Black Hills to the Yellowstone and westward into the Tongue River Valley and the Powder River Valley.


Violence once again erupted between the white intruders and the Indians who lived in these violated regions. When November of 1874 arrived, hostilities between the two cultures were escalating.





Sully’s condition had worsened overnight. By the time dawn touched the sky and Cloud Dancing watched the lingering shadows of a long, sleepless night dissolve, Sully’s body was ravaged by a high fever. He’d never once regained consciousness.


Cloud Dancing sat beside his cot throughout the night, searching for any sign that his friend could hear him. His concern over Sully’s head injuries turned to alarm as his fever reached a dangerous level.


Little Bird and Runs Softly returned to the village at first light but Morning Rain refused to go with them.


When she’d awoken in the night, startled by the wheezing of Sully’s breathing in the stillness of the cabin, Cloud Dancing announced his condition simply and quietly.


“Pneumonia,” he’d stated. “I believe he was out in the elements for many hours before you found him. Perhaps all night.”


Morning Rain nodded. The news came as no surprise.


Cloud Dancing was grateful to her for her assistance. Sully’s breathing was laboured and, as his temperature continued to soar, he began to mutter incoherently, gripped by delirium.


Cloud Dancing brewed willow bark tea and held the cup to Sully’s parched lips, forcing the steaming liquid into his mouth until Sully swallowed, involuntarily. He stripped off Sully’s shirt and washed his body down with cool water. After that, Cloud Dancing left him uncovered until his friend shivered from the frigid November air seeping into the cabin. Nothing worked.


Try as he might, Cloud Dancing could not stop his temperature from climbing.


He called to the Spirits, chanting and praying and asking for their help and their mercy. At those times, Morning Rain took over, washing down Sully’s flushed skin, brewing more willow bark tea. She left Cloud Dancing alone with the Spirits, confident that the medicine man had the power to reach them and they had the power to spare Sully’s life.


Cloud Dancing and Morning Rain barely spoke throughout the day. There was no need for words. They were both confronted with the same grim reality and they often exchanged worried glances.


After Little Bird and Runs Softly left them, Morning Rain was able to snare a rabbit in the woods. She cooked it on a spit over the fireplace and urged Cloud Dancing to eat. Afterward, she insisted that he rest.


“I will take care of him,” she said firmly. “You will do him no good if you fall sick as well.”


Cloud Dancing lay down reluctantly, on a buffalo fur beside the fireplace. In spite of his concern, he fell asleep instantly.


It was late afternoon and Morning Rain listened for Cloud Dancing’s quiet, even breathing before pouring another cup of willow bark tea.


She returned to Sully’s bedside and sat down beside the cot. Sliding one hand beneath his neck and raising his head slightly, she forced his lips apart with the rim of the cup. Then she tipped it up and eased some of the liquid into his mouth. She continued to slowly administer the tea until Sully was forced to swallow. Satisfied, Morning Rain lowered his head again.


She bent over to dip a cloth into the basin of water on the floor beside her. Squeezing out any access moisture, she began to wash down his chest. With Cloud Dancing asleep and the other women gone, Morning Rain was finally able to let her emotions rise to the surface. Her eyes misted over with tears. The man who lay in front of her was incredibly attractive, in spite of his grave condition. His arms were muscular, his shoulders broad, his face ….how many times had she seen this face in her dreams, in her visions? It was a face she loved more than any other, one that filled her with happiness and …desire. And hope. Most of all, hope.


Where was that hope now? During the days and months when she’d prayed for guidance, Morning Rain had never once foreseen Sully’s death. This was wrong. It shouldn’t be happening. The Spirits told her that Sully would return to the Cheyenne, to his family. They told her that he would stand strong against the white men, that he would once more help her people.


In Morning Rain’s visions, the Spirits revealed a day when the Cheyenne and the Sioux would join together, when they would defeat the army and their yellow-haired leader, Custer, in battle. She foresaw Custer’s fall and the victory of her people and, in that moment, she foresaw the return of a proud people – a free nation.


And somewhere, blending in with this vision, was Sully’s face. He was with them. He was with her. He couldn’t die – not now – not like this.


He was whispering weakly, his eyes tightly closed, and she bent close to his lips to hear him. The words were disjointed and made little sense to her – “It’s your weddin’ present ….my heart belongs to you now … when will you understand? … Michaela.”


The last name made her pull back from him and the tears that had filled her eyes slid down her face. She drew in her breath and her face hardened with resolve. If he survived, she would explain his destiny to him – she would tell him that he must abandon this woman, that she kept him away from his people. The Spirits had spoken to her. They had revealed his path. Sully must stay with the Cheyenne, with her, where he belonged. He would believe her. She was a shaman. Her visions were strong – almost as strong as her love.




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