For personal use and select distribution only © by Becky 2007
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | more chapters
Michaela awoke in the early morning rays of light to her baby's soft grunts. Eliza was snuggled up warmly against her mother's belly, where she had spent every night since her birth a week before. In fact, Michaela only put her in her crib or cradle when she absolutely had to, preferring to have the baby close to her as much as possible. The baby opened her eyes and looked around, smacking her lips.
"Are you hungry?" Michaela whispered lovingly. "Ready for another feeding?" She reached up and unbuttoned her nightgown, exposing her swollen breast. Eliza immediately turned her head toward it, rooting eagerly. Michaela held the breast to the baby's lips and she latched on firmly. Nursing a baby wasn't always an easy thing, but since the beginning Eliza had been as proficient at the whole process as if she had done it for years. She suckled perfectly, getting her fill each time, and Michaela hadn't experienced any pain or tenderness. If anything it was faintly pleasurable to feel her milk come down when the baby suckled, and to have her relieve her full breasts.
Sully gradually woke up and touched his fingers to the baby's back, gently stroking her pink skin. She wore nothing but a thick cloth diaper, the heat from her parents plenty to keep her warm throughout the night.
"Morning," Michaela whispered, gazing at him lovingly.
He shifted a little closer and pressed his lips to hers, then edged down a bit to kiss the baby's head a few times as she continued to suckle away eagerly at Michaela's breast.
"She only cried a couple times last night," he remarked hoarsely.
Michaela glanced up at him. "Yes, I think she's settling into a good routine."
"Ya get some sleep?" he asked, smoothing her hair from her brow.
"Yes, some."
The baby made a fist and dug it into the breast, as if trying to get even more milk into her.
"I wonder if she's gaining weight," Michaela remarked. "She's certainly eating well."
"I expect she is. Her arms and legs don't look so thin anymore." He grasped the baby's foot and pressed his thumb to it in fascination. He had never seen a tinier foot. "Look at those toes. Look how little," he murmured.
"Chubby cheeks," Michaela remarked, bowing her head and kissing the baby's brow.
"Yeah," he said with a soft chuckle.
She watched the baby nurse a moment longer and then met Sully's eyes. "Sully? I'm really missing the clinic. I think I'd like to go back today."
"Sure you're up to that already?"
"Yes, I feel well. And the baby's thriving. I'll start off slow. Perhaps only go in for the morning."
"Sure, if that's what ya want," he replied. "I'll stay home with her, bring her out when it's time to nurse."
She hesitated. "Oh. Well, I was thinking I could take her with me. We could set up the bassinette in the front room."
"I don't mind watchin' her, Michaela. Gonna be hard to get much done with a baby in the room."
"I've managed it before." She gazed down at her. "I just want her with me, that's all."
He slowly shifted up in bed. "Yeah, sure. We'll get the bassinette out."
"Good. Thank you." She smoothed the baby's brow as she released her hold on the breast and gazed up into her mother's eyes. "Was that good? You have a full tummy now?" Michaela crooned. "Yes. Good girl."
"Here, I'll burp her, give her a diaper change," Sully offered. "You get dressed."
She shifted up and allowed Sully to lift Eliza from the mattress and lay her over his broad shoulder. She grabbed a burping cloth off the pile on the nightstand and tucked it under the baby, then got of bed and made her way across the room. Sully began patting the baby's back firmly as Michaela washed her face and went about her morning routine.
"Bet it'll feel good to get back to the clinic after all those weeks on bed rest," he remarked.
"Oh, I can't wait," she breathed, walking to their wardrobe and taking out a rose-colored maternity gown with a drawstring waist. She had already shed the majority of the weight she had gained during the pregnancy, most of it coming off during the first few days after the birth when she couldn't stomach a thing, but there was still a small swelling at her belly that made her regular clothes too snug to wear just yet. She laid the gown across the bed and then took out petticoats, a chemise and stockings. Then she slipped her nightgown over her head and put it aside.
Sully watched her undress for a moment, giving her a small smile of appreciation when she met his eyes, then he gazed down at the baby and gave her head a gentle kiss. The baby grunted and let out a tiny burp as she worked up the air in her stomach. She stared right up at Sully as if thinking very deeply about something.
"There's somethin' about her eyes. She reminds me a little of…" Sully whispered.
Michaela tied the waist of her pantaloons and then slipped on her chemise. "Of who?"
He swallowed hard. "Nobody."
The baby suddenly coughed and made a little sputtering sound.
"Oh, I got ya. Your pa's got ya," Sully said, rubbing her back soothingly. Michaela quickly walked back to the bed, eyeing the baby worriedly.
"What's wrong?" she demanded.
"Nothin's wrong," Sully said. "She just coughed is all."
"Oh, Sully, she's spat up a little!" Michaela said, grabbing the corner of the cloth and wiping the baby's chin.
"She always spits up a little. Just calm down," he said evenly.
She sat down, resting her hands in her lap in defeat. "I'm sorry. I know she's fine. I need to try to relax."
He patted her arm reassuringly. "It's all right. Havin' a new baby ain't exactly relaxin'."
"I just love her so much, and she's so helpless," she said, eyes welling with tears. "I never thought I'd be able to have another baby. I just need to protect her from everything."
"She's nursin' good, sleepin' good, too. She's gettin' stronger every day. If ya ask me we couldn't ask for anything better."
She smiled, reassured, and drew him into a hug, the baby tucked between them cozily.
Sully gave Michaela a hand down from the wagon and then passed her back the baby. He was holding her medical bag, the sling for the baby and another large leather satchel in which she had packed plenty of diaper cloths, powder, salve and other infant essentials. It seemed like now that the baby was born whenever they went anywhere Sully always found himself dragging along everything Michaela insisted the baby needed, but he was happy to do it. The children piled out of the back with their schoolbooks and lunch tins.
"You have everything?" Michaela asked.
Byron scrambled over to her and grasped the baby's hand, kissing it several times. "Bye-bye, Eliza. I gotta go to school now. Bye-bye. Bye."
Katie and Red Eagle joined him. Katie kissed Eliza's hair and Red Eagle rubbed her belly.
"Have fun at the clinic," Katie said. "You can help Mama with her patients." She kissed her baby sister's cheek.
"Three of ya are gonna smother her with all those kisses," Sully said with a chuckle.
"She's just so soft," Katie said. "I like kissing her."
"Yeah, and she smells good," Byron added. "I don't know why!"
"Babies always smell good," Michaela replied, caressing his head. "Off to school with you before you're late. Have a good day."
"Bye, Ma. Bye, Pa," Byron replied as the three of them scurried off toward the schoolhouse.
Michaela smiled at Sully as he unlocked the door. "They adore her."
"Just a little," he replied wryly, opening the door and guiding her inside. He helped her off with her jacket and then she headed straight for the infant scale Andrew had put out for her on the examination table.
"It's a special day, Eliza. We're going to find out for the first time how much you weigh," Michaela said, kissing her forehead and lowering her into the weighing tray. The baby fussed and tossed her head, suddenly letting out an angry cry, her face reddening.
"Oh. Hang on. Hang on," Sully said. He wanted to rub her belly reassuringly, but he didn't want to interfere with getting an accurate measurement of her weight.
Michaela looked at the scale and smiled. "Oh, my goodness. Six pounds, two….no, three ounces."
"That's good, huh?" Sully said.
"That's very good," she said, reaching down and lifting Eliza's into her arms. "Oh, shh. Shh. That wasn't so bad, was it? Shh, Mama's here."
Sully held out the leather sling Michaela liked to carry the baby in. "Here, why don't ya put her in here while I bring down the bassinet from upstairs? Ya can free up your hands and get some work done."
She nodded and turned toward him as he slipped it over her shoulders and helped her settle the baby inside. The baby liked being tucked against Michaela's belly, her mother's scent and the contours of her body familiar to her. She quieted and suckled on her fingers, peeking out curiously.
Sully smiled and reached in, tickling her cheek. "Hey, beautiful girl. Your pa's gonna go get your crib, all right?" He headed upstairs and Michaela walked to her desk and pulled out her chair.
It felt so good to finally sit at her desk again. She had never been away from her clinic for so long before. Bed rest had certainly been well worth it, the result their beautiful and perfect little girl. But it hadn't been easy to be out of work, both emotionally and financially. Though she had a feeling it might take some time to get her sea legs back, she was certainly ready to begin the process.
"Let's see what Dr. Cook's been up to while Mama's been gone," Michaela remarked, flipping through the pile of medical charts Andrew had stacked neatly on her desk.
Just as she was opening one of the files to look through it someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she called.
Horace opened the door with a smile, carrying some telegrams. "Heard you were in town. Welcome back, Dr. Mike."
"Thank you, Horace," she replied.
He stepped toward her desk and handed her the papers. "Couple telegrams came in for you."
"Oh. Thank you." She quickly skimmed them. More kind words of congratulations from family and friends, this time from her Uncle Teddy, as well as her closest friend from medical school Miriam Tilson in San Francisco. The outpouring of well wishes since the baby's birth had been both overwhelming and heartwarming. She could truly feel how happy everyone was for them.
Horace gazed at the baby in the sling. "How's little Eliza doin' this morning?"
Michaela glanced down proudly. "Oh, just fine. I think she likes her mama's clinic."
"Sully around, Dr. Mike?" he asked. "Something I wanna ask him."
"I'm right here," Sully called as he walked down the last few steps with the bassinet, carrying it into the room.
"Mornin', Sully. I was wonderin' if you're still looking for work around town."
He glanced at Eliza. If he had things his way he would stay home for a few weeks and help Michaela take care of and adjust to the new baby. But if an opportunity for some good work nearby came up he felt obligated to at least consider it. "Yeah, I still am."
"Good. I sure could use a few men like you. The railroad wants to expand the Colorado Springs station. Put in a larger waiting room and a mail room out back. They're gonna send me some plans, a grant to hire some construction workers to get the job done. And I'd really like it if you'd be foreman. Railroad'll pay you twenty-five dollars for the job."
Sully nodded and Michaela looked at him expectantly.
"Thanks, Horace. Can I let ya know?" he replied.
"Sure thing."
"Where ya want this?" he asked, glancing at Michaela and nodding at the bassinet.
"Over near the stove where she'll be nice and warm," she instructed.
Horace walked to the door, then spun around. "Oh, I almost forgot. Thought you'd like to know. Samantha's comin' out for a visit next week."
"Oh, what good news, Horace," Michaela replied with a grin. "I bet you're looking forward to that."
"I sure am. Myra's gonna bring her out, stay on with her."
Michaela beamed all the more. "Myra's visiting, too? Why, we haven't seen her in ages!"
"When they come out?" Sully asked, walking to Michaela's desk and resting his hand on her shoulder.
"The tenth," he said, putting his hat back on. "I'll see you around town."
"Good day, Horace," Michaela replied as he walked out. She shifted toward Sully. "Isn't that wonderful? Oh, I can't wait to catch up with her."
"Bet she feels the same," he replied, leaning down and giving her a kiss.
Sully galloped out toward the south end of the homestead property where he spotted Brian working diligently at sawing some lumber. The foundation of his house was nearly complete, he had a good beginning on the stone fireplace and he would soon be ready to raise the walls. Everything was on course to be finished in time for his wedding in June.
"Hey, Pa," Brian called. "What're you doin' out here?"
"Your ma's back at work, baby's with her, kids are in school. Thought I'd ride out here and see if I could lend a hand."
"Sure. I could use ya. Thanks."
Sully put on his work gloves and then grabbed the other end of the crosscut saw.
"Sorry I ain't been around very much," Brian said. "There's just so much to do."
"It's all right. Ya got a weddin' to get ready for."
They swiftly cut through the board and then Brian tossed it aside.
"Were you this busy before ya married Ma? I never realized how much there was to get done."
Sully nodded. "Sure I was. And a lot of times I was afraid I wasn't gonna finish everything. But it'll all fall into place, you'll see. All your hard work's gonna be well worth it."
"That's the only part I'm sure of. She's worth it," Brian said with a wry smile, placing another board across the sawhorse.
Sully chuckled and picked up the saw again as they got back to work.
Samantha Bing skipped down Hickory Street in the prosperous Lafayette Square neighborhood of St. Louis, her wavy dark brown hair flying behind her and her schoolbooks tucked under her arm. She opened the freshly painted white gate and raced up the walk of her aunt's Victorian house where she and her mother had been living for most of her life.
"Bye, Samantha!" her group of girlfriends called as they continued on their way.
"Bye!" she called back. She slowed her pace as she spotted the painter her mother and aunt had hired a few weeks back. He was high atop a ladder, putting the finishing touches on the awning of their porch. "Afternoon, William!" she called cheerfully.
The old man waved at her, dabbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Why, good afternoon to you, Sammy."
She giggled, covering her mouth. She could never get enough of the old man's rich accent. He sounded so dignified and formal, yet was dressed like a peasant in tattered, old clothes. And she loved how he called her Sammy. She ran up the porch and inside, slamming the screen door.
"Samantha? Wipe your boots, sweetheart," Myra called from the kitchen.
"Sorry, Mama," she replied, retreating back to the doormat and sliding her muddy boots on it.
"You're as forgetful as ever," Myra said, appearing in the doorway and holding out her arms with a bright smile.
Samantha beamed and ran to her, giving her a big hug. "Can we get packed? Can we get packed?"
"Be patient! I'm fixing us a little supper and then we'll pack. In the meantime, go into the parlor and start on all that homework your teachers gave you for the trip."
"But I have a whole three weeks to finish it," she protested.
"You're not going to get very much homework done in Colorado Springs if I know you, young lady!" she said with a chuckle.
"Yes, Mama," she replied, retreating to the parlor with her schoolbooks.
William knocked on the screen door, wiping his face with a cloth. "Miss Myra?" he called softly.
Myra approached him and opened the door. "Would you like to come inside and have some lemonade with us in the parlor, William?"
"Oh, no, no. I'm all covered in paint. I wanted to let you know I've finished. That paint should hold up quite well for at least several years. I hope you'll be pleased." He opened the screen door and stood on the doormat.
"I'm real pleased. Thank you, William. Let me just get you your money."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She walked to the desk near the front door and opened a drawer, taking out a billfold.
Meanwhile Samantha peeked over the top of her schoolbook from the chair in the parlor and crossed her eyes at William. He chuckled at her and shook his head.
"Sam? Homework," Myra said sternly as she walked back to William.
Samantha raised the book again and heaved a sigh.
"We were so lucky to find you, William," Myra remarked. "My sister and I have had bad luck with the handymen we've hired lately."
"Well, I was lucky to find you, too. I can't tell you how much I needed this job."
She smiled at him kindly and counted out several bills.
"You wouldn't happen to know of any other work that needs to be done around here, do you?" he asked.
She glanced up, sighing. "No, I don't. But I'll let you know if I hear anything."
"Yes. Thank you."
She handed him the bills. "That's fifteen dollars, the price we agreed on. And three dollars more for getting the job done so quick."
He clutched the money gratefully. "Thank you, Miss Myra. Thank you very much." He shook her hand. "Any time you need anything else, you come to me."
"I promise," she replied, clasping his hand and then opening the screen door for him. She clutched the doorframe and watched him walk down the porch, then suddenly her face lit up with an idea. "William, wait!" she called.
He turned back around curiously.
"You wouldn't be interested in a job far from home, would you?" she asked.
"Well, that depends. How far?"
"Samantha's father in Colorado Springs is going to be expanding his telegraph office. He needs men like you, hard workers to get the job done fast. In fact Sam and I are just about to go out there for a visit. You could come with us."
"Colorado Springs," he repeated. "Never been there."
"It's pretty far," she replied. "But Horace is a good man to work for, he'll pay you a fair wage." She bit her lip. "In fact, I'll even buy your train ticket."
"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that," he protested.
"The least I can do, after you did such a fine job on our house."
"Oh, please, William!" Samantha said, scurrying over to them holding her pencil and grabbing Myra's hand. "Please come with us to Colorado Springs." She smiled up at him sweetly.
"Well, how can I say no to those big brown eyes," he replied, reaching his finger out and tapping her freckled nose. "All right, Sammy. I'll come along with you."
"Excellent, Katie. All correct," Elizabeth said as she handed the little girl back her homework paper. Red Eagle was just finishing up his last problem. Byron, however, was still stuck on his first row of problems, and Michaela was sitting beside him trying to help him.
Katie smiled and tucked her homework into her arithmetic primer, then scurried over to Sully who was cuddling with Eliza in a wingback chair.
"Now can I hold the baby?" she pleaded.
"Your homework done?" Sully asked.
"Yep. All done."
"Mine's done, too," Red Eagle said, quickly following Katie over. "I get to hold her next."
Sully stood and helped Katie into the chair, then laid Eliza in her arms. "There ya go. There's your big sister, Eliza."
Katie kissed her head lovingly. "Hey, Eliza. Hey."
Sully smoothed Katie's hair. "Good job, Kates. You're holdin' her real good."
"I wanna hold the baby," Byron spoke up, putting his pencil down impatiently.
"You can hold her when you finish," Michaela said, tapping his paper with her finger. "If you have four apples and you eat one, what fraction did you just eat?"
He heaved a sigh. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Well, what's the denominator?" she asked patiently. "Four apples and you ate one."
He pressed his pencil to his chin. "I don't know. Three?"
Michaela glanced at Elizabeth and tried her best to be patient. "No, four."
"So, two-fourths?" he replied absently.
"Now you're just guessing. Sweetheart, you have to focus."
"I wanna hold the baby," he replied. "I never get to."
"You hold her all the time. Now I want you to concentrate on your assignment and finish it. It's almost time for bed."
"I hate fractions. I don't get 'em," he said, throwing down his pencil.
Michaela put her arm around him. "They're not so difficult. You're making this harder than it is."
"Maybe they're easy for you," he muttered.
"Well, you just have to try," she said helplessly.
"I am trying!" he said tearfully. "Mama, I'm trying real hard."
Michaela gently rubbed his back. Byron was right, he had been working very diligently on his homework for most of the evening. But it seemed for all his hard work they had barely made any progress. And now it was almost bedtime. He was going to be up at least another hour at this rate if he was going to finish his assignment.
Michaela gave his head a gentle kiss. "I'll write your teacher a note. I'll let her know you did as much of the assignment as you could."
"Thanks, Mama," he whispered, hugging her waist.
"All right. It's bedtime now for all of us," she said, giving Byron's head another kiss.
"Sully? Sully, can you take the baby?" Michaela whispered in the darkness. He opened his eyes sleepily and she cuddled Eliza securely against his chest. He rubbed the baby's tiny back as he watched Michaela head over to the vanity and take out a fresh nightgown from the middle drawer.
"Everything all right?" he whispered.
"I need to change. I need to change my nightgown," she murmured.
He propped himself up on one elbow, a little alarmed. There was a rather dark stain marking her gown on the back, just below her hips. "That blood?"
She nodded and slipped the gown over her head. "It just…it happened so suddenly when I got up after nursing her," she explained a little sheepishly, glancing down. "Oh. I think I passed some blood clots."
"That normal?"
"Yes, it's all right. It's normal to see an increase in flow once you're up and around. I noticed it became a little heavier when I went back to work."
He watched her fold some fresh rags and place them between her legs to soak up any more blood. She always bled for a good several weeks after having a baby. It had frightened him after Katie was born. He had never heard of anything like that before, not that he knew very much about the whole process of having a baby in the first place, but she had assured him repeatedly it was just a part of everything and that all women went through it after giving birth. Now he understood it was normal, but it still concerned him from time to time.
Finally she finished changing and cleaning herself up and rejoined him at the bed.
"That's better," she murmured, getting back under the covers and crouching down to kiss Eliza. "I love you," she whispered. "Sleep, my baby girl."
"Work makin' ya tired?" he asked, rubbing her arm.
She glanced up. "Some."
"Maybe ya should stay home tomorrow and relax. Put your feet up."
"That's impossible. I'm booked all day."
"What about the bleedin'?"
"It'll go away," she said dismissively. "It's only been eight days. That's not at all unusual."
He caressed her cheek. "Michaela, I'm just worried about ya. Losin' all this blood's gotta be takin' its toll. Ya lost so much when she was born, too."
"If it gets any worse I'll stop working for a few days," she said reassuringly. "But I'm sure it's nothing."
"Guess your patients missed ya," he remarked. "Happy to have ya back."
She smiled at him and cuddled up close. "As am I."
He perked up as he heard a door open downstairs, and someone trudge slowly up the staircase. It had to be Brian. He had come home earlier for about ten minutes to eat a quick supper and then rode right back out to his new homestead again, telling everyone he would be working very late.
Michaela followed Sully's gaze. "What time is it? It must be almost eleven."
He squinted at the clock on the mantle. "Try midnight."
"Poor thing. He's working so hard."
"Yeah, he sure is. We had a good talk earlier."
"Oh, about what?"
"I don't know. Just about his homestead, gettin' married."
"Sully, are you going to, um…are you going to have the talk with him at some point before the wedding?"
"The talk? What talk?"
"You know. The marriage talk."
He chuckled. "Michaela, you want him to have that kinda talk be my guest."
"Sully, he doesn't want to hear it from me. You’re his father, he's your son. I think it falls on your shoulders. My mother talked to me before I married you."
"I ain't real fond of that talk your ma gave ya."
"Still, at least she was trying to help. At least I felt like she cared." She caressed his chest lovingly and kissed his shoulder. "Besides, you could give him a good talk. Improve a bit on what Mother told me."
"Guess it does fall on me, don't it," he murmured, tucking one hand beneath his head.
"I'll talk to our daughters when the time comes. But you're talking to our sons," she said.
"Is that how it works? Figures we got more boys than girls."
She giggled and cuddled up against him, closing her eyes. "Hm, funny how that worked out. Goodnight."
"Night," he replied with a smile, gathering her into his arms.
Michaela walked into the store behind the children, her basket and a list in hand and the baby dozing in the sling around her shoulders.
"Good afternoon, Loren. I need some coffee, some red beans and the children need some new school tablets," she said, approaching the counter.
Loren put down his duster and took her list. "Help yourselves to that chewing gum there," he told the children. "It's a new flavor."
"Thanks, Mr. Bray," Red Eagle said as the children scampered off toward the candy jars.
"Afternoon, Michaela, Loren," Dorothy said cheerfully as she entered the store with her reporter's notebook around her neck and a small stub of a pencil in one hand. "I need a new pencil, Loren. I've worn this one out."
"Get in line. I'm helpin' Dr. Mike," he said, climbing up onto a step ladder.
"Afternoon, Eliza Quinn Sully," Dorothy said, reaching into the sling and grasping the baby's hand. "Oh, you're sleepy today."
Michaela smiled down at the baby, then glanced back up. "Oh, did you hear the good news? Myra and Samantha are coming out here to visit Horace."
"Myra, too? Oh, how exciting!" Dorothy exclaimed.
"Good for Horace," Loren said grouchily.
"Loren, what's got you in such a bad mood?" Dorothy demanded.
"I'm not in a bad mood," he protested, stepping down from his ladder with a few cans. "I just wanna know where all my customers are. I haven't had more than a dozen people in here all afternoon."
"Oh, probably because everybody's over at the bank," Dorothy said.
"That's right," Michaela said. "I'd forgotten about that."
"Forgotten about what? What's going on at the bank?" he demanded.
"Don't you read the Gazette?" Dorothy replied. "Preston's installing the first telephone in Colorado Springs today. I gotta get back there to report on it."
He opened a drawer, finding a pencil. "What in thunder? Where'd he get a fool idea like that?"
"Telephones are becoming popular in all the big cities, Loren," Michaela said. "It was only a matter of time before they came here, too."
"Yeah, Gran'ma's got one in Boston," Byron remarked, approaching the counter and chomping on his gum.
"She does, does she? Well, even Elizabeth can make a mistake. Sounds like a waste of money to me," Loren said, walking toward the door and putting his hands on his hips.
"They do seem like more trouble than they're worth sometimes, according to Mother," Michaela remarked.
"Loren, where you going?" Dorothy asked. "You just said it's a waste of money."
"I wanna see for myself this fool invention, all the money I'm savin' not gettin' one myself."
"Can we go watch, too, Mama?" Byron asked.
She grabbed his hand. "Certainly. Let's all go."
Michaela and the children followed Loren and Dorothy over to the bank nearby. A large crowd was assembling on the porch, eagerly listening as Preston made his first phone call on a shiny wooden box with a big black receiver mounted to the wall just inside his bank.
"That's it?" Loren demanded. "Looks like one big eyesore to me."
"We've already seen a telephone in Boston," Red Eagle remarked proudly. "We even talked on it."
"Yeah, I'm kinda not that excited about them anymore," Byron said with a shrug.
"Good, you shouldn't be," Loren said. "Nothin' to see here."
"Hey, Ma," Brian said, walking over to her with a pencil stuck behind his ear. "Come to watch the show?"
"We were all curious," Michaela said with a smile. "Is it working?"
"We'll find out pretty soon," he replied, taking out his pencil and writing down something in his notebook.
"First National Bank, please. Denver," Preston said loudly into the mouthpiece.
The crowd oohed and ahhed and Dorothy and Brian wrote furiously in their notebooks.
"Good afternoon. Preston A. Lodge the third speaking," he went on. "Is President Spangle available?"
More impressed gasps from the crowd as Preston smiled at them smugly.
"Look at him. Don't he think he's special," Loren grumbled.
Red Eagle grabbed his hand and smiled up at him. "You're special, Mr. Bray."
"Aw," he muttered, tousling the little boy's hair.
"Yes, Mr. Spangle," Preston said. "Yes, yes, lovely to speak to you again, too, sir."
"Well, that's that," Loren said. "I've seen what I came to see."
"Why don't you get a telephone, Mr. Bray?" Katie suggested. "For your store."
"Nope, not me. I like peace and quiet myself. No loud boxes allowed in my mercantile."
"Oh, well, I was thinking we could borrow it to call Boston," Katie said. "Talk to the aunties."
"Silly. You can't call as far as the aunties, right Mama?" Byron said.
"No, not quite yet," Michaela admitted. "But sooner than we think. When I was your age everyone said the telegraph wouldn't catch on. But telegraph wires were stretching clear across the country in only a few years."
"Telephones aren't telegraphs," Loren said firmly. "This is all just a big fad, a way to swindle everybody out of their money. Anybody with half a brain won't fall for it."
"I don't know, Loren. I have a feeling telephones are here to stay," Michaela said as they headed back to the store.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," he replied, walking inside and heading briskly to his counter.
Sully added a log to the dying fire in the sitting room. Elizabeth was in one chair working on her needlepoint, her cane resting against the armrest, and Michaela was in the other, the baby tucked up against a pillow as she nursed.
"You should have seen everyone, Mother," Michaela remarked. "Preston drew quite an impressive crowd with that telephone of his."
"Sounds like it. I often wonder if the telephone is going to make the telegraph obsolete."
"Yes, so do I," she replied. "Still, at the moment telegrams are still a lot cheaper, more reliable. And just as quick."
"I suppose. Speaking of which, when do you start work for Horace, Sully? Next week wasn't it?" Elizabeth asked.
He glanced up. "I ain't even said yes yet, Elizabeth."
"I don’t know what the problem is. I think you should take it," she remarked. "It sounds like a fine job to me."
Michaela watched Sully curiously. She could tell there was something weighing on his mind. It wasn't like him to turn down work unless he had a good reason.
"What is it, Sully?" she asked perceptively.
He got to his feet and folded his arms, leaning against the mantel. "It's the railroad."
"The railroad? What does that have to do with anything?" Elizabeth asked.
"I'd be workin' for 'em. They'd be payin' me. Horace said my pay comes from his supervisors in Denver. Those supervisors are railroad men."
Michaela cleared her throat. She knew full well how Sully felt about the railroad and the negative effects on the town, not to mention the Indians. It had always been hard for Sully to see the good things the railroad had brought. It made it much easier to visit far-away places like Boston, and shipments of medical supplies and other things they needed often arrived in only a few days or weeks, when before it could take months. "Well, you're not exactly working for the railroad. You'd be working for Horace."
"Yes, think of it as working for Horace," Elizabeth added.
He shook his head. "Still don't sit right."
"Oh, Sully. You're so picky sometimes," Elizabeth scolded as she made another stitch.
"Picky?" he blurted.
"Yes, picky. Horace needs your help. Surely there's nothing wrong with just helping your friend expand his office a little so he's more comfortable while he's working."
"I guess. Guess we need the money, too." He sighed. "All right, I'll do it."
"It won't take too long," Michaela said reassuringly. "Knowing how efficiently you work you'll be done in no time."
"Yes, picky and speedy," Elizabeth said with a soft chuckle.
Sully smiled a little and then stepped closer to Michaela to gaze at the baby. She had both her arms strewn above her, and Michaela often had to move her hands away from her face so they wouldn't interfere with her suckling.
"Look at the way she likes to nurse with her hands up by her head like that," Michaela said with a soft chuckle.
"That's exactly how you used to nurse," Elizabeth remarked, glancing at the infant. "I'd try to pull your arms down and you'd just raise them right back up again. Stubborn from the very start."
"Really? I did the same thing?" Michaela said with a smile.
"Michaela, would you like me to look after her tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked. "You can't be getting very much done at the clinic if you have to tend to her all the time."
"No, that's all right," Michaela said, holding the baby a little closer.
"You don't intend to take her into the clinic with you every day, do you? I'm not sure how you're going to manage."
Michaela glanced at her, swallowing hard. "I'm managing fine. I'd rather have her close by the way she's nursing so frequently right now." The baby released her hold and turned away from the breast, and Michaela laid her over her shoulder and patted her back.
"May not be a bad idea, Michaela," Sully spoke up. "Let your ma take over a little bit."
"Yes, that's what I'm here for," Elizabeth added.
She looked up at him a moment, patting Eliza's back firmly. "We're fine for now."
"Well, I don't know how you do it," Elizabeth remarked. "Martha always took over everything so I could get my proper rest. I was absolutely done in after you were born. I'm tired just thinking about it. I don't think I left my bed chambers for three weeks. Thank goodness Martha looked after you and the older girls for me."
"Oh, she needs a fresh diaper," Michaela said, standing up abruptly. "Excuse me."
Elizabeth and Sully shared a glance and watched as Michaela headed toward the stairs, quickly disappearing up them.
Samantha scampered down the train steps, dressed in a pretty light blue pinafore and hat, her hair curled neatly.
"Samantha, be careful," Myra warned as she followed after her. "Don't trip!"
The little girl spotted Horace waiting for them outside his office. He burst into a smile and rushed down the steps.
"Papa!" Samantha cried, bolting to him and wrapping her arms around him.
He lifted her off her feet, choking up and holding her close. "Samantha. Oh, how'd you get so big?"
She locked her hands together and closed her eyes. "I don't know. Papa."
Loren approached the train station. "Horace, where's the mail? I'm expectin' a package." He tapped his shoulder. "Horace!"
"I'll get it later," he replied.
"Later!" he exclaimed. He rushed around the side of the train in desperate search of the mail bag as the porters unloaded the luggage car.
Myra watched father and daughter reunite with a soft smile. Horace glanced at Myra with a little nod.
"Thank you, Myra."
"You're looking good, Horace," she replied.
"So are you. Did you have a good trip?"
"Yes, just fine."
William awkwardly gathered together his suitcase and cleared his throat, stepping closer to them.
Myra turned to glance at him. "Oh, Horace, this is William. He was doing some painting on my house and I thought he could help you expand the office. He's handy with things like that."
He glanced at the old man a little skeptically. "Well, Myra, honey, I already hired some men to do that."
"Well, couldn't you hire one more? You won't find anybody better than William."
He sighed. He was too happy to see his daughter to care very much at the moment about who this William person was and why Myra wanted him to hire him. "Sure. I could use one more."
"Thank you, sir," William said. "Let me get the rest of your luggage, Miss Myra."
"Oh, thank you, William," she replied.
"Myra!" Michaela called excitedly as she hurried across the tracks, one arm wrapped around Eliza nestled in her sling.
Myra beamed and rushed over to her, embracing her tightly.
"Oh, Myra!" Michaela exclaimed. "We've missed you!"
"It's so good to be back, Dr. Mike!" she replied. She broke apart and looked in the sling. "Oh! Is this the little one I've heard about?"
"This is Eliza," Michaela said proudly. "She's ten days old."
Loren rushed back around the tracks. "Horace? What about the mail?"
Everyone ignored Loren and just fussed over the baby.
"Oh, she's beautiful. Oh, congratulations." Myra reached in and tickled the baby's cheek. "She looks sturdy, too! How much does she weigh?"
"Six pounds, four ounces as of this morning," Michaela said with a big smile.
"Who cares what she weighs?!" Loren exclaimed. "Everybody always wants to know how much they weigh!"
Michaela glanced up at him, a little confused. "What do you mean?"
"Huh?" Horace replied.
"Nobody ever wants to know whether they're healthy and have all the parts in the all the right places. They just want to know exactly how much they weigh," Loren explained sourly, hands on his hips.
Michaela chuckled and shook her head as she turned her attention to Myra's daughter. Samantha looked up at the doctor shyly.
"And this must be Sam. Welcome to Colorado Springs," Michaela said, caressing her shoulder.
"You remember Dr. Mike, Samantha?" Myra prompted.
Samantha shyly shook her head, holding onto Horace's hand.
"That's all right. The important thing is I remember you," Michaela said, touching her freckled cheek. "And you are even prettier than the last time I saw you."
She giggled and cuddled against Horace.
"How old are you now? Nine?" Michaela asked.
"Nine and a quarter," Samantha replied.
"Oh, nine and a quarter, I stand corrected," Michaela said with a chuckle. "My daughter Katie is just a little younger than you. Would you like to come play with her sometime?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."
Michaela patted Myra's arm. "Sully and the children couldn't make it. They had baseball practice this afternoon. But we want to invite you all to supper tonight."
"Baseball practice?" Myra repeated.
"It's a long story. We'll tell you over supper!" she replied.
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Mike," Myra said. "We'll come."
"Want to get some blackberry pie over at the café?" Horace asked, glancing at Samantha.
"Oh, yes, Papa!"
"Here's the luggage, Myra," William said as he rejoined the group carrying a heavy trunk.
"Oh, Dr. Mike, this is a friend of ours. William. This is that lady doctor I was telling you about."
"How do you do," William said, extending his hand and shaking with her.
"Good afternoon," Michaela replied, raising her eyebrows at his proper accent. He was a tall, handsome old man with a full head of dark, thin gray hair. He had a strong, proud jaw and he was very tan. His clothes were modest and a bit tattered, and Michaela detected a deep kindness and sincerity in his hazel eyes. She liked him immediately.
Myra sighed. "Well, let's get your surrey, Horace, and bring our luggage over to the boarding house."
"Aww, Mama, I wanna get some pie," Samantha protested.
"We will. As soon as we get the luggage!"
"Oh, I can do that, Myra. I'll get the luggage. I'll bring it over and get you settled in," William said, putting his cap on.
"But you don't even know where the boarding house is," Myra replied.
"I'll show him," Michaela offered. "You two haven't seen Horace in a long time, Myra. You should head over to the café and relax."
Horace nodded his consent and Myra relented, putting her arm around her daughter. "All right. Thank you, William. And thank you, Dr. Mike."
"See you tonight," Michaela replied, waving as they walked down the podium.
"Tonight!" Myra replied, grabbing Samantha's other hand.
Michaela picked up a few light hat boxes and William lifted one of Myra's trunks.
"Well, it's just down the street," Michaela said with a smile, leading the way. "Have you known Myra and Samantha a long time, Mister…?"
"Oh, just William, ma'am. I'm just a poor ole man living from job to job. No need for formalities. No, I haven't known them long at'll. I was painting Miss Bing's house last week when she said Mr. Bing might have some work for me. So here I am."
"Your accent, it's lovely. Were you born in England?"
"Yes. Hampshire. It be in the south, near the channel."
"I hear it's beautiful there. Lush and green. Did you move to America recently?"
"No. A long, long time ago."
"Well, this is it. I know it's not much but it's clean and warm," Michaela said as they approached the boarding house. She placed the hat boxes on the bench outside. "I'd love to have you over for supper with Myra and Horace tonight, William. You can tell us more about England."
"Oh, you're too kind. But I think I'd better let old friends catch up. I'd be a bother."
"No, not at all."
"Please, I insist. Don't worry about me."
"Well, all right then. Perhaps another time. I'm afraid I need to get back to my clinic. I have an appointment. But I hope I'll see you soon, William."
"Same to you, ma'am," he replied, putting the trunk down and touching the brim of his cap. He gave the sleepy baby a wave. "And to you, wee little one."
When Samantha stopped talking for a moment to take a few gulps of cider, Myra gave him a stern gaze.
"What is it, Horace?" she demanded.
"Nothing," he protested.
"We just got here and you're already doing that look."
"What look?"
"You know the look I mean."
"Who is that man, Myra? That William fella?"
She sighed. "Oh, him. I told you, he's a handyman who did some work for us."
"He's from this far-off country called England," Samantha added.
"I don’t like him," he said resolutely.
Myra gasped. "Horace, what's not to like? He's the sweetest old man. He's very kind to Samantha, and he did such a good job on the house. I just know he'll work out."
"You've known him, what, a few weeks? And you got on a train with him and traveled all the way out here with him, just you and Samantha? Myra, that was dangerous."
"Oh, no it wasn't!" she said with a chuckle.
"Why'd you promise him I would hire him?"
"I didn't promise. Oh, Horace. Just give him a chance. Like I said, he's the sweetest old man."
"What's his last name?" he demanded. "Maybe I could send some telegrams, find out about him. Make sure he's not wanted."
"Wanted?" she said with a laugh. "Horace, you're completely overreacting."
"Just tryin' to protect you and Samantha. Didn't know there was anything wrong with that. Now what's his last name?"
She hedged a bit, picking up her coffee cup. "Well, he, he goes by William."
"You don't even know his last name?" He shook his head. "This is just like you, Myra. Just like you."
"Stop!" Samantha suddenly pleaded. "Mama, Papa. Stop."
They both looked at her, surprised.
"Please don't fight," she said, shaking her head. "Please don't fight with Mama, Papa."
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry." Horace edged closer to her and put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. Your papa's sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," Myra said. She reached out and rubbed the little girl's arm.
Myra and Horace were over, they had both known that for some time. There was no hope of ever reconciling and giving marriage another try. But lately they had really been trying to get along better for Samantha's sake. The little girl was happier when they were kind to each other and weren't talking negatively about each other, and she did better in school and was a lot more easygoing. As much as it was difficult to try to avoid bickering, it was worth the effort. But occasionally they would forget themselves in her presence, and they both always felt very guilty afterward.
"We won't fight anymore," Horace vowed, kissing her head. "You want another piece of pie?"
She smiled, nodding.
"Now, I know you must remember Miss Grace's food!" Myra said.
Samantha giggled and climbed into Horace's lap, wrapping her arm around him.
Loren quietly opened the door of the bank and stepped inside. He crossed his arms and stared at the telephone mounted to the wall a moment. Then he picked up the receiver and turned it in his hands curiously.
Preston tapped him on the shoulder. "Loren? What can I do for you?"
"Ah!" Loren said, turning around with a start and dropping the receiver. "What're you doing, going and sneaking up on an old man like that?"
"Sneaking up? I'm just trying to help a customer."
"Well, let me know you're coming next time."
"You like my telephone? A real wonder, isn't she?"
Loren put the receiver back. "Wonder? It's big and bulky and an eyesore."
"Progress, Loren. Societal improvements. Don't be afraid of it."
"Who's afraid of societal improvements? I'm not afraid of societal improvements."
"Why don't you get one for your store?" he suggested. "You could contact your suppliers in neighboring towns much more quickly and efficiently."
"No, sir. The mercantile is never getting one of those things as long as I own it. I never had any problems getting along without one before and I never will."
"Well, if you don't want to draw in more business that's up to you," Preston said, walking behind his counter and opening a cash box.
"What do you mean? What's a telephone got to do with more business?"
He glanced up. "With a telephone you could special order anything a customer wanted right there and then. Your mercantile would be the only place to go to buy anything you could possibly want." He flipped through some bills. "A few years time and you could even expand, open up stores in Manitou, Denver."
"Denver?" Loren said, eyes brightening a little.
He smiled. "Of course, Colorado Springs will always be where Bray's Mercantile first originated. Where it was first made famous."
"Famous," he murmured.
"I could put you in touch with Bell Telephone Company in Denver. They'll come out within the week to install it."
"We'll see," he murmured. "Let me think about it."
"Don't think too long, Loren, before someone else gets the same idea."
"Talk around town is that you're engaged, Brian," Myra said with a sweet smile. Horace, Myra and Samantha and the entire Sully family was gathered around the dining room table eating rhubarb pie from Grace's.
"Yes, ma'am," Brian replied. "The wedding's in June."
"Who's the lucky girl?"
"Sarah Sheehan."
"Sarah Sheehan? Sarah that young lady who used to take piano lessons, too?"
"That's her," he replied with a smile.
"Well, I don't believe it. Where did the time go?"
"I know. Imagine how I feel," Michaela said, giving Brian a soft smile as she cradled the baby in her lap.
"I'm never getting married," Katie announced. "Boys are yucky."
"Oh, yeah? Well, I'm never gettin' married neither," Byron retorted. "Girls are yuckier."
"Yeah, me neither! Yuck!" Red Eagle added.
Samantha giggled and the rest of the children followed suit.
"All right, that's enough," Michaela said with a chuckle. "Why don't you run along and play outside while there's still a little light left? Clear your plates please."
The children got up and headed to the kitchen with their plates and silverware and then ran out the back door.
"Miss Grace's pie sure is a lot better than that train food," Myra said, taking another bite of it. "The whole supper was delicious, Dr. Mike."
"Oh, train food. Don't remind me," Elizabeth remarked, shaking her head.
"Sully, let me ask you something," Horace spoke up, taking a sip of coffee. "Would you let Dr. Mike and Katie get on a train all by themselves for two whole days with some handyman they just met?"
Sully took a bite of pie, glancing at Michaela and clearing his throat.
"Myra and Samantha just got on a train with some old man who was paintin' their house, paid for his ticket and everything," Horace explained. "Who knows who he is?"
"Horace, do you have to bring this up all over again?" Myra spoke up with a sigh. "He's been carrying on all day about this, Dr. Mike."
"I just want to know what Sully thinks, that's all, Myra," he replied.
Sully glanced at Michaela again. She was rubbing the baby's back and looked intently interested in what he had to say.
"Well, I reckon it'd make me a little nervous," he admitted.
"Why?" Michaela asked.
Sully could see himself rapidly digging a hole he wasn't going to be able to climb out of. He was a little irritated that Horace had put him on the spot like this. "I'd just want ya to be careful around somebody ya don't really know, that's all I'm sayin'."
"You don't trust my judgment of character?" Michaela replied.
"See, that's exactly what this is about," Myra said impatiently. "Horace doesn't trust me. He never has."
"I trust you," Horace said. "Most of the time."
"What do you have against William anyway?" she asked. "What was so wrong about offering a nice old man a job?"
"Nothing," Horace said petulantly, taking another bite of pie.
"William gonna be workin' with us?" Sully asked, sipping his coffee again.
"That's right. Myra made me hire him."
"Horace. I didn't make you."
"What else was I supposed to do, Myra? You dragged him all the way out here promising him he could work for me."
"He got experience with construction?" Sully asked curiously.
Horace glanced at him. "I guess so. Who really knows."
"Well, I think he's going to work out just fine," Michaela spoke up. "After all, Myra said he did a wonderful job painting her house."
"Painting's a little different than construction work, Michaela," Sully pointed out.
"I don't know, he sounds fairly harmless to me," Elizabeth said. "He just needs a job like everyone these days. I think everyone should leave this be."
Horace shook his head. "Don't seem right, givin' somebody who don't even live here a good job when there's plenty of men around here who could use the money."
"Just because Samantha likes him, that's what this is about," Myra spoke up. "You're jealous she's so fond of him."
"Myra!" he exclaimed.
Michaela met Sully's eyes. Horace and Myra's squabbling was really starting to make everyone uncomfortable. "Um, does anyone want more coffee? I can put another pot on," Michaela said.
"I'll take some, Ma," Brian immediately spoke up.
"Yes, me, too," Elizabeth said helpfully.
She nodded at them gratefully. "Myra, could you help me?" she asked, nodding at the kitchen firmly. "Please?"
"Sure, Dr. Mike," Myra replied, getting out of her seat.
"Do you like St. Louis?" Michaela asked as she sat on the porch, the baby resting over her shoulder. The children were playing on the rope swing out by the oak tree, Sully, Brian and Horace pushing them on it and all of them laughing and giggling. A beautiful spring sunset was stretching across the mountains and turning the sky a brilliant red.
"Oh, we love it there," Myra remarked, taking a sip of coffee. "Samantha loves school and has lots of friends." Her lips turned up into a little grin.
"Myra, have you…?" Michaela mirrored her smile. "You've met someone."
Myra nodded shyly.
"Who?" Michaela asked curiously.
"His name's John Madigan. He runs a steamboat company. Samantha goes to school with his son. That's how we met. His wife passed on couple years ago."
"You're in love," Michaela said wryly.
Myra chuckled softly, stirring her coffee. "Yes, I s'pose I am."
"Is Samantha fond of him?" she asked.
"Oh, she likes him. He's good with her." She bit her lip. "We've been courting about a year, and last month he proposed."
"Engaged!" she exclaimed. "Myra, congratulations!"
"Shh, shh," Myra replied, waving one hand. "I haven't told Horace yet."
"Oh," Michaela murmured.
Myra sighed. "I don't know, I been putting off telling him. I s'pose I'm afraid to."
"You'll have to tell him eventually."
"I'll tell him. But not yet. I don't want to spoil his visit with Samantha." She sighed again. "That's part of the reason I came out here. I wanted to tell him in person. I figure I at least owe him that."
"Myra, are you two….are you doing all right? Forgive me for prying."
"No, that's all right. I guess we're as well as can be expected tryin' to share a daughter eight-hundred miles apart from each other."
"It's nice that you could bring Sam out here for such a long visit."
"It's important to me that Horace is in her life. John's going to make a fine stepfather. But I still think she should have her real pa around."
"Yes, I think so, too. Myra, if you'd ever like to send Sam out here in the future without you, Sully and I would be happy to help Horace out. She could even spend the nights here with Katie."
"Oh, she'd love that. Thank you, Dr. Mike."
The baby made a little gurgling sound and clutched Michaela's blouse in her fists. Michaela kissed her head lovingly. "Would you like that, Eliza? Would you like to have Sam over at our house?"
"What about you and Sully? How you two doing?" Myra asked. "I was just so sorry to hear about Jack passing on, Dr. Mike."
She nodded solemnly. "It's been a tough year. But we're making it through." She kissed the baby again. "And now that we have her…we've never been so blessed."
"She is about as sweet as she could be," Myra said, putting her coffee cup aside. "Could I hold her?"
Michaela didn't know why she suddenly felt hesitant. Myra was a mother and there was no reason she couldn't trust her with the infant. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, of course." She carefully laid the baby in Myra's arms and sat close, nervously watching their every move.
"Oh, you're a tiny thing, aren't you, Eliza?" Myra said, gently rocking her. "Sometimes I miss this. Sometimes I miss havin' a little baby to hold."
Eliza scrunched up her eyes and let out a little whimper.
Michaela clutched the baby's hand, her brow wrinkling a little.
"Who came up with her name?" Myra asked. "I just love it."
"I did," Michaela murmured, squeezing the baby's fingers worriedly. "I wanted to name her after my mother."
The baby whimpered some more and tossed her fists. Myra kept rocking her and patting her back.
"Hush now, hush," Myra soothed.
"I'm sorry, I think she wants a feeding," Michaela said, abruptly reaching for the baby and lifting her back in her arms. She hurried inside and shut the door, clutching Eliza tightly to her chest.
"It's wonderful that Samantha could come out here and spend some time with her father," Michaela remarked as she laid Eliza on the end of the bed. "But it's too bad Horace and Myra don't seem to be getting along."
Sully sat beside her and took off his boots. "Sounds like this William fella is comin' between 'em."
"When I met him I really liked him. I think there's some truth to what Myra's saying, that Horace is a little jealous."
He grasped her bathrobe and leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. "I'd be jealous too my girls started payin' attention to anybody other than me."
She smiled wryly as she slipped off the dirty diaper and grasped the baby's legs to wipe her off with a damp cloth.
"May be some truth to what Horace's sayin', too," he remarked. "It's not such a bad thing to be careful around folks before ya know 'em good."
"Myra's engaged," Michaela told him. "To a man she met in St. Louis."
"Is that right?"
"She hasn't told Horace yet."
"Best tell him soon before he finds out some other way. Better to hear it from her," he remarked as he unbuttoned his shirt.
"Oh, no!" she suddenly exclaimed, looking down at the baby in a panic.
Sully glanced at the baby. "What?"
"She has a diaper rash. Oh, no. Oh, little sweetheart."
"That's all?"
"That's all? Look how red and inflamed it is. You changed her last, didn’t you? Did you notice this?"
"I don’t know. I can't remember." He slipped off his shirt and balled it up.
She walked to the vanity and opened her medical bag. "Sully, we really need to be more attentive to things like this."
"She's all right. Babies get diaper rashes all the time, don't they?" He stroked the baby's head. She was suckling her fingers and kicking her legs, content as ever. "She's happy. She's fine. Hey, beautiful girl. What happened? Ya got a little diaper rash?"
Michaela returned to the bed with a tin of salve and dug her fingers inside, rubbing it liberally all over the baby's bottom.
"Take it easy. She's gonna be slidin' all over the place," Sully remarked.
She regarded him impatiently and then patted a good amount of powder between Eliza's little legs and pinned a clean diaper on her. Then she picked her up and cradled her lovingly.
"Oh, sweetheart. Are you all right? Does that feel better?"
"She's just fine, ain't ya?" Sully whispered, kissing the baby's head. "She's ready for bed."
Michaela edged down to the pillows and tucked the baby up to her chest. Sully got in beside her and cuddled them close.
"See, she's fine," he whispered. "She's fallin' asleep."
Tears suddenly welled in Michaela's eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
"Michaela? What is it?" He caressed her cheek worriedly.
She shook her head. "I just feel like I've done something wrong."
"Ya ain't done nothin' wrong," he said immediately. "Things like that happen sometimes to babies."
"I'm just so afraid for her. I don't know why," she admitted. "I want to protect her from everything."
"I know. Me, too. But part of raisin' up kids means acceptin' things ain't always gonna go exactly the way ya want. Ya do your best, that's all we can ask. You're a good ma, you're doin' a good job with her, with all our kids."
She looked up at him tearfully. "You're a good pa, too."
He smiled and gave her brow a comforting kiss. "Get some sleep."
William led his horse down main street, one arm around Samantha as she sat up front and held onto the saddle horn. With Myra busy catching up with old friends and Horace swamped at the post office sorting through all the mail, he had offered to look after Samantha for a few hours. Myra had immediately agreed, hugged him and thanked him profusely for his help. Horace just acted aggravated, but he didn't protest. They would need someone who could help them out with Samantha from time to time while she was visiting, and William was the most logical person to do it.
"How many kinds of sweet flowers grow in an English country garden?" William sang, his tenor voice strong and full. "We'll tell you now of some that we know, those we miss you'll surely pardon."
"Daffodils, heart's ease and flox!" Samantha sang. "Meadowsweet and lady smocks."
"Gentian, puline and tall hollyhocks," he joined in. "Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, blue forget-me-nots. In an English country garden."
Samantha giggled and clapped her hands. "I love that song, Will." She looked toward the meadow as a crowd of children were running out of the schoolhouse. "Oh, school's out! Can we go see Katie?"
"Aye, of course." He squeezed the horse's belly with his thighs and sent him trotting into the meadow.
"Katie!" Samantha called, waving.
Katie was on a swing and she leaped off as soon as she spotted her new friend.
"Hey, Samantha!" she called cheerfully.
Byron and Red Eagle followed quickly behind her with their books and lunch pails, eager to get a look at the horse Samantha was up on.
William dismounted and then reached his arms up, lifting Samantha to the ground.
"So you're Katie," he said, giving the little girl's head a gentle pat. "I'm William."
She smiled up at him. "Are you her gran'pa?"
Samantha giggled, clutching his hand. "No, silly. He's just my friend from St. Louis. He paints."
"Oh."
"Hey, mister. Could I pet your stallion?" Byron spoke up.
"And who might you be?" William asked.
"We're the brothers," Red Eagle announced.
William chuckled. "Oh, I see. Well, good afternoon to you, the brothers. You may pet the stallion. He's very gentle. He's from your blacksmith."
"Oh! Robert E.? He's got lots of good horses." Byron reached his hand up and stroked the stallion's black nose. "Hey, horsey. Good horsey."
"Can you come over to my house and play?" Katie asked Samantha. "We can play dolls and go down to the creek."
"I can ask my mama," Samantha said. "She'll say it's all right."
"Goodie," Katie said. "Wanna swing on the swings until my papa comes to pick me up?"
"Can I, Will?" Samantha asked.
"Go ahead," he replied.
The little girls ran off together, pigtails flying, and William gave the horse's shoulder a firm pat. "She's a real beauty, isn't she, boys?"
"Yes, sir!" Red Eagle said. "You should race him!"
"He's not mine to race. I'm just renting him while I'm here."
"Samantha's so lucky. She gets to sit up on him. I wish I could," Byron said.
"Would you like to sit up on him?" William asked. "I don't mind."
"Oh, yes, mister! Please!" he exclaimed.
"Well, go on with you then," he replied, picking him up and placing him in the saddle. "There you are! A handsome lad you are!"
Red Eagle gasped. "Look at you! Me next! My turn next!"
Byron grasped the reins. "Giddy-up! Giddy-up!"
William laughed and rubbed the horse's nose. "Nothing like a good horse beneath a man, what do you say?"
"Byron!" Sully shouted as he headed toward them.
"Byron?" William murmured. "I once knew someone named Byron."
Sully walked briskly across the meadow and approached the horse, reaching up and lifting Byron off the saddle. "Get down from there."
"Papa!" Byron cried. "No, Will was lettin' me sit up there."
He grabbed his shoulders. "What'd I tell ya about horses? What'd I tell ya?"
Byron bent his head guiltily. "I'm not allowed."
"Not unless ya got me with ya, or your ma," he said firmly.
Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Pa."
"It was my fault," William said. "I let the boy go up on him. I didn't realize."
Sully eyed him a moment. "You Myra's friend?"
"Yes, sir. William."
"William, I'd just as soon my kids stay away from horses if that's all right by you. Especially stallions. They can be unpredictable sometimes."
"Of course. Certainly. I'm sorry."
"Katie!" Sully called. "Get your books. Come on."
Katie ran toward him, Samantha on her heels. "Papa, can Samantha come over and play?"
"Not today, Kates."
"But why?" she exclaimed. "Papa!"
"You got homework to do, baseball practice. We're busy today," he said.
She sighed. "Tomorrow?"
"We'll see. We'll ask your ma."
Katie glanced at her friend sorrowfully. "Goodbye, Samantha."
Samantha waved at her and held William's hand. "Goodbye."
"Does this hurt?" Michaela asked, pressing her fingers into the small of her patient's back.
"No," Loren said. He was lying face down on her examination table, his shirt off.
She moved her hand a little lower. "Here?"
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" he cried dramatically.
She quickly withdrew her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll get you something for that."
"Thanks," he muttered.
Sully threw open the door, walking inside. "Oh. Sorry, Loren."
"Sully, I have a patient," Michaela said, glancing back at him with surprise as she took down a tin of salve from her cabinet.
"Oh, it's all right. It's only me," Loren spoke up.
"Can I talk to you?" he murmured, walking up to her.
"Now?" she replied incredulously.
"William put him up on a horse," he said, brow narrowed.
"William? Myra's friend? Put who on a horse?"
"Byron."
"Why would he do that? You're not making sense."
He sighed impatiently. "I come to pick up the kids from school and I see William with our kids, Byron up on his horse. How many times we told the kids how dangerous horses are? How many times we told 'em not to go near 'em without us? I think we oughta punish him. I think I should leave him here with you and he'll miss his baseball practice today."
Loren slowly sat up on the examination table and eyed the couple worriedly as he put on his shirt.
"So being with his mother is a punishment now?" Michaela said.
Sully was getting irritated she wasn't taking this very seriously. He stepped closer to her. "It was a stallion. He just got right up on him without any mind for everything we've taught him. He needs to be punished."
"He was with an adult. You said William put him up there. William probably told him it was all right."
"If that's the case then maybe Horace was right. Maybe we can't trust this William fella."
"Because he let Byron sit up on a horse for one minute? Sully, he was just trying to be nice. I think you need to calm down." She walked to Loren with the tin and handed it to him. "Rub some of this on it. And apply lots of warm cloths. It should start feeling better by tomorrow."
"Thanks, Dr. Mike," he said, slowly getting down from the table and digging into his pocket for a coin.
Sully folded his arms. "I'm leavin' him here with you and he can sit at your desk and do his homework here. He's gotta learn you don't just go along with what a stranger says."
"Stranger? Sully, William's Myra's friend." She looked up at him resolutely. "No, we're not punishing him. Not for this. You're not leaving him here."
Loren awkwardly put the coin on her desk. "Money's right there, Dr. Mike. See ya around, Sully."
"See ya," Sully said fleetingly, opening the door for him.
Michaela let out a big sigh as she went to the bassinet and lifted the baby out. "I need to nurse her before my next patient. I'll see you at home."
"Michaela-"
She walked briskly to the door to the stairway and opened it, shutting it firmly behind her.
"I wish you lived in St. Louis," Samantha said sweetly as she cut into her pancakes. "You're the best cook I ever met!"
Grace chuckled and refilled Myra's coffee cup.
"She's a little angel, Myra," Grace remarked.
"Oh, sometimes," Myra said, shooting her daughter a smile.
Grace headed back to her stove just as Hank rushed into the café, wearing a red string tie.
"Myra," he called, waving at her.
"Who's that, Mama?" Samantha asked.
"That's…an old friend," Myra said, smiling softly at him.
Hank burst into a huge grin. "I heard you were back in town. I've been real busy at the Gold Nugget, haven't had a chance to find you yet."
"I've never seen you up this early before, Hank," Myra remarked, taking another sip of coffee.
"Never had a reason to get up this early before." He took a seat beside her and gave Samantha a wink. "Hey, cutie. You sure got big."
Myra patted her daughter's hand. "Samantha, this is Hank. Can you say good morning?"
"Morning," she whispered.
"Mornin'. Are those blueberry pancakes?"
"Yes. I like the cook here."
"You like Colorado Springs?"
"Yes, sir. A lot."
Hank turned his attention back to Myra and gazed at her wistfully. "I always knew you'd come back."
"It's just a visit, Hank," Myra replied.
"How long you gonna be here?"
"Not long. A few weeks," she explained.
"Maybe sometime the two of us, we could maybe have supper together."
"Hank," she protested with a slight roll of her eyes.
"What? You ain't married anymore."
"I just don't think that's a good idea, do you?"
"Well, Samantha can come, too. How's that? She can chaperone."
"What's that?" Samantha asked curiously, licking syrup off her fork.
"Never mind," Myra said.
"Just think about it," Hank said.
"So business is good at the saloon?" Myra replied.
"Never better," he replied proudly. "How's life in St. Louis?"
She rubbed Samantha's back. "We're very happy there."
"I hear they got a big river there, that true?" Hank asked, grinning at Samantha.
She grinned back softly. "Yes, sir. I road a steamboat on it once."
"You did? That musta been a good time."
"How's Zack doing these days, Hank?" Myra asked softly.
"Zack?"
"Your son. Zack."
"Oh. Well, last I heard he was still doin' just fine at that art school. Where's Horace?"
"Over at the telegraph office working. Why?"
"Just wondering."
"Hank! Hank!" someone called shrilly. A prostitute scurried into the café wrapped in a shawl against the early morning chill. Her curls were falling and her rouge was smeared. "Hank, there you are. We've been lookin' for you all over town. Old man Sanders just took off again without payin'!"
"I'll be there in a minute," Hank said.
"Hank, come on. This is the second time he's done this to me! He's gettin' away!"
"Sorry, Myra. Duty calls," Hank said, standing up. "I'll see you around town?"
"See you," Myra replied. She watched him follow the young prostitute back to the saloon and then turned her attention back to her daughter. Samantha was bending her head and very slowly cutting her pancakes. "Sam? Samantha? What's wrong, sweetheart?"
She sighed. "Sometimes I wish….I wish we lived here. With Papa."
"Oh, Samantha. But I thought you liked St. Louis. You have a nice school there and good friends."
"I know. But I like Colorado Springs better, Mama."
Myra edged closer to her and put her arm around her. "Well, we'll stay here awhile and have a good visit with Papa, all right?"
"All right," she muttered as Myra kissed her hair.
"Remember try not to move out the pawns in front of the king once you've castled," Michaela explained as she pointed to her corner of the chess board. "You want to keep your king safe."
Byron and Red Eagle listened attentively to the chess lesson, both of them strong admirers of their mother's proficiency in the game.
Byron picked up his white knight and moved it to the center of the board. "Is this a good move, Mama?"
"Michaela, look at this," Sully called from the sitting room. He was crouched on the floor beside Katie, the baby between them on a blanket. "Watch how she kicks when I lift her up."
Michaela quickly got up and smiled as Sully raised her off the floor. Eliza kicked the air fiercely, wiggling her legs and squirming. Elizabeth watched them from a nearby chair and chuckled.
"It looks like she wants to go swimming," Katie said with a giggle.
"Yeah, look at her!" Red Eagle added, getting up and joining them.
Sully chuckled as she kicked all the harder. "Ya wanna go for a swim, baby girl?"
"No swimming just yet," Michaela said. She crouched down and grasped the baby's foot, kissing her toes. "I remember these little kicking feet. Yes I do," she crooned.
"Mama? Is this a good move?" Byron asked again.
She glanced back briefly. "Yes, that's good." She turned back around just as Eliza's lips curled up briefly in what looked like a little grin. "Sully, did you see that! She smiled!"
"No, she didn't," he protested.
"Babies this little can't smile yet, Michaela," Elizabeth said.
"This baby can." She tickled the baby's chin. "Mama saw you smile. I saw that."
"Mama, it's your turn," Byron called. He waited a moment. "Mama? Your turn."
"I think your ma's right. Don't think she really smiled," Sully said.
"Yes she did," she protested. "Katie, you saw it, didn't you?"
Katie giggled and shook her head.
Byron watched them all gather around the baby and fuss over her, then he silently slid down from his chair, leaving the chess board where it was, and headed upstairs.
William stepped into the telegraph office. He lightly tapped the bell on the counter.
Horace appeared from the back room, holding a few brown-wrapped packages.
"Good morning, Mr. Bing. Myra said I should stop by," William spoke up.
"Be with you in a minute," Horace said, returning to the back room. William took off his cap and waited at the counter patiently. Finally Horace returned with a piece of paper and a clipboard.
"Paperwork from my superiors in Denver," Horace explained, handed it to him and finding a pencil on his desk. "All the construction workers have to fill out this form so the government can pay you."
"Always paperwork," William said with a kind smile, taking the pencil. "I'll fill it out right away." He licked the tip and quickly began writing down his information and checking boxes.
"Good morning, Horace," Michaela said as she stepped into the office holding a few envelopes, the baby in her sling. "I have some letters to post." She glanced at the old man. "Oh, good morning, William. I hope you're enjoying your visit."
He nodded at her and the baby. "Indeed I am. Good morning. And good morning to you, wee one."
Michaela reached in the sling and grasped the baby's fingers. "She smiled for the first time yesterday. A real smile, not just air. At least, I think she smiled. My husband doesn’t think so. We've been arguing about this ever since it happened."
William chuckled. "A real smile did you make, is that right?"
"I just had to write everyone at home and tell them," Michaela said, putting her letters on the counter.
"Where is home for you then?" William asked.
"Boston. I grew up there."
"Boston. Ah. I've been there."
"Oh, have you spent a lot of time back East?"
"A few years. I lived in New York for a time before heading West. But that was ages ago." He handed Horace his paperwork. "Thank you, Mr. Bing. What time should I report on Monday?"
"Eight o'clock," he replied.
He put his cap on and tipped it at Michaela. "Ma'am." He exited the office and quickly crossed the tracks.
Horace turned the clipboard toward him. "Let's see what his last name is. Probably James or Younger or…" He stopped short. "Sully?"
"Sully?" Michaela repeated.
"Look at this, Dr. Mike." He turned it toward her.
Michaela glanced at the paperwork. "William Sully. Oh, what a coincidence. I wonder if we're distantly related. Sully traces his roots to England, too."
"I'll be," he replied, reaching for his stamp. "Well, let me get these ready to go for you."
Michaela added a cup of stock to the stew simmering on the stove. Elizabeth was sitting at the table chopping some onions and Sully was at the other end of the table, the baby propped up in his lap.
"I wouldn't be at all surprised if you're related," Michaela said. "Perhaps distant cousins."
Sully didn't seem the least bit excited or even a little interested when Michaela told him that William shared his last name. Michaela didn't understand his aloofness.
"Sully, don’t you see? He could be family."
"Lots of people have that name," he remarked. "Common name."
"It's not that common," Elizabeth spoke up. "I've never met anyone else with that name."
"But, aren't you at all curious about your roots, about where your family came from?" Michaela asked. She remembered her father had written out an extensive family tree of the Quinn line with details all the way back to nobility in Ireland, and he had been working on the Weston line on Elizabeth's side of the family as far back as he could go. Genealogy was important to him, and someday she knew the children would appreciate being able to trace their roots like that. But on Sully's side of the family, all she knew was that his mother's name was Katherine, and that his father and brother had passed away and Katherine had followed soon after. It had always frustrated Michaela a little that Sully had no interest in anything but the present.
He glanced up. "I got family. You and the kids, you're my family. I ain't never thought about any kin I might have in England. Never really cared too much."
She sighed and turned back to the stove, stirring the stew.
Byron and Red Eagle rushed into the room. Byron was holding out a rattle.
"Here it is, Papa," Byron said.
"We found it in the trunk," Red Eagle added.
Sully smiled. "Shake it for her. See if she likes it."
Byron shook the rattle vigorously in front of Eliza. The baby looked at it curiously and sucked her fingers.
"Here, hold it," Byron instructed. He grabbed her hand out of her mouth and pried open her fingers. "Come on, Eliza. Hold it. Just hold it."
The baby suddenly screeched and kicked her legs, her face reddening. Sully rubbed her back to calm her down and helped guide her fingers back into her mouth.
Michaela spun around. "What did you do? Byron, oh, please be gentle with her. Don't do whatever you just did."
"What? I want her to hold the rattle."
"She can't hold it yet. She'll be able to when she gets a little older. Just, please be very careful with the baby, all right? She's very little right now."
He frowned. "I am, Mama."
"She's all right, Michaela. No harm done," Sully spoke up.
She sighed, trying to calm herself. She didn't know why she was such a worrywart when it came to the baby. Sully had pointed it out to her several times, and he was right, she really needed to make an effort to relax. She rubbed Byron's back. "Perhaps you could shake the rattle gently for her, until she's ready to hold it herself. Hm?"
He smiled softly and shook the rattle in front of the baby.
"Claudette hid all your rattles and toys when you were born and refused to tell us where they were," Elizabeth remarked. "And Marjorie even tipped your cradle over once and you came tumbling out. You took quite the spill."
Byron giggled, shaking the rattle.
"That explains a lot," Sully remarked with a teasing grin.
Michaela scowled at him. "That's not funny."
"I'd never tip you over, Eliza. Never, ever," Red Eagle said.
Michaela smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "You boys like your new sister?"
"I love 'er!" Red Eagle replied sweetly, leaning forward and kissing the baby's forehead.
Byron hesitated a moment. "Yeah," he finally murmured.
Michaela stroked Byron's hair and glanced at Sully. "I'd like to find out more about William. I want to talk to him, Sully."
"Suit yourself," he replied, chuckling at the baby as she blew some bubbles between her pink lips and waved her little arms.
Sully quietly opened the front door after hitching his horse and grabbed his belt off the table. He slipped it on just as Michaela entered the room from the kitchen carrying a lunch satchel. Eliza was resting over her shoulder, wrapped in a small quilt to keep out the morning chill.
"I didn't know you were up," he whispered. "It's early."
"The baby was awake anyway and I thought I could make you some breakfast for the road."
"Thanks," he replied, taking the satchel from her. He caressed Eliza's head. She was wide awake and alert, as she usually was every morning at about five o'clock. If there was one thing the baby had been over the first several days of her life, it was predictable. That's not to say her schedule wasn't demanding. She cried for a feeding two or three times a night and routinely spit up and wet her diaper after each and every meal, and she was up very early every morning eager to start the day when Michaela and Sully might have liked to sleep a little longer. But at least they knew what to expect from her. "Sure you're gonna be all right without me today?" he asked.
"I'll manage. I'll just take her to the clinic, hope that she sleeps so I can get a little work done."
"Why don't ya make it a short day, come home after lunch? Your ma can watch her and you can take a nap yourself."
"I might just do that," she said, looking up at him with dark circles under her eyes.
He leaned down and kissed her. "How ya feelin'? Ya feel all right?"
"Tired," she admitted. "But happy. So very happy."
He smiled and gave her another gentle kiss. "I'll be back soon as I can."
"I know. Be careful."
He kissed the baby's soft cheek. "I'll see you tonight, baby girl. Listen to your ma."
Michaela waved the baby's tiny arm at Sully. "Bye-bye, Papa. Bye-bye. Good luck with your traps."
He opened the door, putting the lunch satchel over his shoulder. "I'll try an' bring home a couple rabbits for supper. I can taste that stew already."
"Good morning, William," Michaela called as she made her way across the street, pushing Eliza in the pram.
William closed the door of the boarding house and turned to face her with a smile. "Good morning."
"Have you had breakfast? Would you like to get some coffee and something to eat at the café?"
"Do they have tea?"
"Yes, I believe they do have tea."
"Yes, of course I'd love to dine with you."
She smiled and turned the pram around, leading the way. "Well, you won't believe what I've discovered. We have the same last name. Horace mentioned it the other day when he was looking at your paperwork."
"Your name is Sully? Oh, I thought it was Quinn."
"Well, yes, it is. I didn't change my name when I got married. But my children and my husband are all Sullys."
"My goodness," he replied. "Imagine that."
Grace approached them and led them to a table. "Mornin', folks. Coffee?"
"Coffee for me, Grace. And William would like some tea," Michaela said, pushing the pram close to her bench and sitting down across from William.
"Tea," Grace repeated, a little taken back. "Oh, all right. I'll put some water on."
William smiled at her kindly. "Thank you, ma'am." He looked across the table at Michaela. "Well, I've never met another Sully before. Not in America anyway."
"Neither have we. I was thinking you and my husband might even be related somehow. His parents were from England as well. They left for America before my husband was born."
"Who were his parents?" he asked curiously. "Where were they from?"
"Well, the truth is I don't know very much about them." She sighed softly. "Unfortunately he lost his entire family when he was very young. He prefers not to speak of it. But his mother's name was Katherine. We named our first child after her."
"Katherine?" he uttered. He swallowed hard. "What…what's your husband's name?"
"Oh, well, he goes by just Sully. But his first name is Byron. Have you ever heard of anyone named Katherine Sully? She had two children. My husband Byron, and his older brother. I'm afraid I don't even know his name."
"Byron Sully?" he repeated. The color drained from his face and he swallowed hard.
"William? What is it?" she questioned.
He slowly met her eyes. "Dr. Mike, I think your husband could be my son."
Her smile faded. "What? No, I'm afraid his father passed away some time ago. From what his mother told him, it sounds to me like it was a heart attack. Sully was an infant when it happened."
He shook his head in disbelief. "After all this time. All this time. When is his birthday?"
"His birthday?"
"Was your husband born on December ninth? Eighteen thirty-five?"
Now the color drained from her face. "How did you know that?"
"Did he ever tell you the circumstances of his birth?"
"Circumstances?"
"Was he born on a ship? A ship bound for America?"
"Well, what will you have?" Grace said, approaching the table with a cheery smile and filled up a mug with some steaming coffee for Michaela.
Michaela glanced up at her, still quite in shock. "Um, I'll just have some eggs and a biscuit, Grace."
"The same," William replied.
"Comin' right up. And your tea, too," Grace said, spinning back around.
"How did you know Sully was born on a ship?" Michaela whispered skeptically. "Who are you? Sully said his father was dead."
"The truth is I don't know why he thinks that. His mother told him that? I'm not sure why she would say that. But I was living in England when I met and married a girl named Katherine. We had our first son right off, Kath and I. William the third. And she was with child when a massive drought struck England and we got on a ship bound for New York."
Michaela was riveted. She leaned forward, nodding for him to continue.
"I didn't know the baby would be born before we arrived. Katherine told me he was to come on Christmas. I thought for sure we would make it to American in time and be long settled in before he ever made an appearance. But I suppose Byron thought otherwise. She delivered the baby a week before we docked in New York. A big healthy baby boy he was. A fine son."
Michaela listened to his story in a near daze. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "William, he thinks you're dead," she finally murmured hoarsely. "What on earth happened? Why weren't you living with them all those years?"
He pressed one hand to his head. "That first year, that was tough. Our crops didn't fair well at all. I told Katherine…I said I would look for work in Ohio. I was twenty years old, Michaela. I was a child. I was frightened half to death. I thought they were going to take my home and put me in debtor's prison and Katherine and the boys would starve. I was a coward and I ran. I'm still so very ashamed of that time in my life." He took an unsteady breath. "When I sorted things out and returned several years later, hoping to make amends, my family was gone. I found out Katherine and Will had died and Byron was taken to an orphanage in the city. I went straight there. But they told me the boy ran off."
"Yes, he did go to an orphanage," she affirmed. "It was awful there, he was terribly frightened. He just had to run away or he thought he would die in there."
"I looked for that boy another ten years. I heard some rumors of a boy named Byron fitting his description working this job or that. But I always seemed to be a few steps behind him. Eventually folks said they stopped seeing him, and I lost hope. Made my way from job to job myself and eventually ended up in St. Louis where I've been for thirty years now."
"I have to tell Sully right away. He has to know this."
"Where is he?" he asked.
"He's checking his traps. He said he'll probably be gone all day. But you could come for supper tonight. We have to talk."
"I must sound like a crazy old man, laying this all on you."
She gently grasped his hand, gazing at him in a new light. She was sure the man in front of her was her father-in-law. Her gut told her his kind eyes wouldn't lie. "No, I believe you, William. You know too much."
"Supper tonight," he said. "I'll be there."
Byron crouched on the porch outside the clinic and held his top in his lap as he wound the string. "You have to do it real tight so it spins fast," he instructed.
Red Eagle put his schoolbooks on the bench and got down beside him. "Let me show her, Byron."
"No, I'll do it," he said, biting his lip as he worked.
"Hurry up," Katie encouraged as she stood beside Samantha. "You're so slow."
"I'm not slow!" Byron protested. He stood up. "Now, you keep your arm real straight and let it go!" He swung his arm and let the top fly onto the porch. It immediately capsized on its side and wobbled back and forth. "Oh, no!" Byron exclaimed.
"It didn't work. You didn't do it right," Red Eagle said.
"Yes I did," he replied impatiently. "I did it just like Papa showed me."
"Let me show her. I'll do it," Red Eagle said, picking up the top.
"You're not so good at it either you know," Byron said, gazing at him skeptically.
"I'll get it to spin. You'll see," he replied resolutely as he wound the string.
Samantha giggled and sat on the bench. "I like playing with you. You're funny."
"Who, me?" Byron asked, pointing at his chest.
"Everybody. You make me laugh."
"I wish we could always play together," Katie said sadly. "I don't want you to go back to St. Louis."
"I don't either," Samantha replied with a small frown. "I want to stay here in Colorado."
"So stay here," Red Eagle said. "Move back here with your pa."
"I can't. My ma and pa aren't married anymore."
"Why?" Katie whispered.
"I don't know. They're just not married anymore. It's called a divorce."
"Hey, your ma and pa could get married again," Red Eagle spoke up pensively. "Then you could live here!"
"Yeah!" Katie exclaimed.
Samantha shook her head solemnly. "When you get a divorce that means you hate each other. My ma and pa don't want to live together."
"Oh," Red Eagle murmured.
"Maybe they could love each other again," Byron suggested.
"You think they could?" Samantha asked hopefully.
"Sure. We could help," Byron replied.
"How?"
He shrugged. "My pa does lots of things so Mama will love him. We'll just do what he does. Like pick flowers."
"Yeah, and buy gifts and things," Red Eagle added.
"How will we buy my mama gifts?" Samantha asked.
"We'll figure out something," Byron said pensively. "I know we can."
"Your ma and pa are gonna fall in love, Samantha, you'll see," Katie said excitedly. "Then you can live here forever!"
Samantha giggled. "Oh. Good."
Michaela opened the door, carrying the baby and her medical bag. "All right, I'm all finished," she said quietly as she locked the door. "Let's head home."
Katie walked up to her. "Can Samantha sleep over tonight, Mama?"
Michaela headed to the wagon and tucked Eliza in her basket on the wagon floor. "Katie, it's a school night."
"I know. We'll go to bed early, I promise."
"Tonight's not a good night anyway, sweetheart. We're having company for supper. Perhaps on Friday she could spend the night if it's all right with her mother."
"But Friday's forever!" Katie cried.
Michaela glanced back at her and climbed up into the wagon, gathering the reins. "Katie, please, Mama's very tired. Just say goodbye and get in the wagon. We'll invite Sam another time."
Katie hugged her new friend. "I guess I gotta go."
"That's all right. See you tomorrow, Katie."
"See ya, Sam," Byron said as he climbed up into the wagon with his top and schoolbooks. "I get the front!"
Samantha waved at them and the children all waved back as Michaela headed the buckboard toward home.
Michaela opened the front door and walked out onto the porch as soon as Sully came riding up, a white-tailed rabbit tied to his saddle.
"Just one," he said, the disappointment in his voice evident. After a long day checking all his traps, it was difficult to return home with not very much to show for it. He gazed at her a moment. "Somethin' wrong? Baby all right? How's her diaper rash?"
"She's fine. She's with Mother. Sully, something incredible has happened," she said unsteadily, stepping down the porch and holding her shawl around her shoulders.
He glanced at her in confusion and dismounted his horse. "What?"
"It's about William," she said. "I spoke to him today about his name. We need to sit down and talk."
"What'd he say?" he asked coolly, grabbing the reins and leading his horse to the barn. "We related somehow?"
Michaela followed him quickly. "Couldn't we go inside and sit down?"
"If this is so important just tell me right now."
"All right." She took a deep breath. "I think he's your father."
He let out his breath and smiled a little. "My pa's dead, Michaela. Died when I was a baby. You know that." He pushed the barn door open and headed inside.
"I know. I know that's what you were told happened. But William and I had breakfast at the café this morning and he explained everything. Sully, he knows everything about you. He says he left for work when you were a baby and didn't come back until you had long since left for the docks. My only guess is your mother told you he had died to spare you."
"He's just a crazy old man, Michaela," he said nonchalantly as he unbuckled his horse's saddle. "You know when folks get up there in years, sometimes they say things that don't make sense."
"That's just it, it makes perfect sense. Everything he says corroborates everything you've ever told me about your past. Sully he knows your birthday. And he knows you were born on a ship."
He hoisted the saddle onto the edge of the stall. "So he asked around, found out a few things about me. What does that prove?"
"Who have you told about that, aside from me?" She reached up and touched her fingers to his chin. "Your jaw. Your jaw is the same. And your nose. And your hands. William's hands look just like yours and Byron's, too. Our son has his grandfather's hands. Sully, William is telling the truth."
He gently pulled her hand down, shaking his head. Then he grabbed the rawhide around the rabbit's legs and pulled it forcefully to untie it.
"Why can't you believe this? Why won't you listen to me?" she said.
"Because I know you. You're so quick to give folks the benefit of the doubt. You don't wanna consider this man's just senile."
"I know when a person is senile. I'm a doctor. And this man is not senile."
"Michaela, you're tired, got a lot of things on your mind. Ya just had a baby. I don't want ya around somebody gettin' ya this worked up about somethin'. A lot more important things to think about right now than some handyman from St. Louis with a big imagination. If he's gonna be botherin' ya like this with these stories I don't want him to go near ya."
"I invited him for supper."
"Ya what?" he breathed.
"Sully, you have to talk to him. You have to at least give him a chance. At least hear him out."
"When's he comin'?" he demanded.
"Any minute now," she replied.
"Good. I'll get to the bottom of this right away."
He walked briskly toward the door and Michaela followed him. Just as she shut the door she spotted William trotting up on his horse. He looked very tired and worn as he dismounted and tethered his horse to the hitching post.
"William," Sully called as he approached him.
William regarded him in a new light, meeting his eyes and gazing into them in wonder. "Your eyes. Those are Katherine's eyes."
Sully swallowed hard and laid the rabbit on the porch stairs. "Listen, you're upsettin' my wife tellin' her the things ya have been, and I'm gonna have to ask ya to stop."
"I don't know what you mean," he replied, glancing at Michaela. Her face was drawn and worried looking.
"You know what I'm talkin' about," Sully said a little more sternly.
"I'm afraid I can't stop."
Sully was becoming angrier by the second. "My growin' up years were painful enough without somebody like you comin' in here makin' up all these lies. Who are you? Why you doin' this? Ya get some kind of pleasure out of stirrin' things up like this?"
"I'm sorry it was so painful. But that's why I've been looking for you for so long. So I could make amends."
"Sully, just listen to him," Michaela encouraged.
"Sully, your mother…Katherine was more than I ever deserved. You had the most loving, beautiful, generous woman raising you. She was an angel."
"Get off my property," he spat. "Ya come near my family again I'm gonna see a judge about gettin' a restrainin' order."
"Sully," Michaela protested, grabbing his arm.
"Go!" he ordered, pointing his finger at the horse.
"It was she who named you," he said desperately. "After her favorite poet. Lord Byron. That poem, that poem she loved so much. It's haunted me ever since I found out of her drowning. 'And thou art dead, as young and fair, as aught of mortal birth. And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon returned to earth."
Sully glared at him with a mixture of furiousness and acceptance. He had never told anyone ever about the poems Katherine read to him and his brother as they was growing up. 'And Thou Art Dead, as Young and Fair' was her most favorite poem of all. It was heartrending, but Katherine liked the sad poems. He supposed the depths of despair in Lord Byron's words made her feel a little better about her own situation, her husband gone and all on her own struggling to make ends meet and raise two young boys. Perhaps in comparison, real life didn't seem so bad.
Michaela knew Sully had a fondness for poetry, but he had never told her it was his mother who had fostered that appreciation in him. And he had never, ever read this particular poem to Michaela or ever mentioned it to anyone. It reminded him too much of losing his mother, a traumatic event in his childhood that had left him deeply scarred, and one that he would just as soon never think about again.
"How'd you know that?" Sully whispered hoarsely.
"Because," he replied. "Because your mother recited that same poem to me the day I married her."
Michaela looked up at Sully tearfully. She could see the corner of his mouth twitch and his brow wrinkle in heartache. She held his arm securely, letting him know with her touch she was right there with him.
"You run out on us?" Sully whispered.
"You see I-"
"You run out on us," he said resolutely. "Just took off when times got tough?"
"Let me explain, son, I-"
"I don't wanna hear it," Sully retorted, holding up one hand. "I don't care who ya are. I want nothin' to do with ya." He turned around and walked back toward the barn.
"Sully!" Michaela called.
He ignored her and just kept walking briskly.
Michaela turned to William. He was discreetly rubbing away a tear that had fallen from his eyes.
"William, I'm so sorry," Michaela said. "Sully, he…he's always been so reluctant to talk about his mother. Or anything about his childhood. This is very difficult for him."
"He has every right to be upset," he replied. "He's right, I ran out. I gave up."
"Give him some time. Let him process all this. He thought you were dead. We all did. Now in a heartbeat everything's changed. We all need time."
He slowly nodded. "I should head back to town."
"No, I still want you to stay and eat with us."
"No, I should go back," he replied. "He needs me to go right now, and I want to respect that."
"We'll see you again soon," she replied hopefully, touching his arm.
"Aye," he replied quietly, grabbing the reins of his horse and mounting him.
Michaela was cuddled up with Eliza on her side of the bed, tenderly stroking the baby's back as she dozed. Sully still wasn't home, and Michaela was very worried and desperately wanted to talk to him. But walking away and going off by himself was how he always dealt with things that upset him. He always returned shortly, and she had faith he would this time, too.
Eliza slowly began to wake up, blinking and tossing her head a bit. Michaela had quickly learned to recognize the cues her baby made to show she was hungry, and respond to them before she began crying in earnest. First she would look around, then smack her lips and sometimes chomp on her fingers. After awhile she would whimper and fuss and rapidly start wailing if Michaela didn't react quickly enough. Just as predicted, the baby brought her fingers into her mouth and suckled on them, letting out a little snivel.
"Are you hungry? You want to rock in the rocking chair, close to the fire?" Michaela whispered. She got out of bed and lifted the baby into her arms, carrying her to the rocker. Then she sat down and unbuttoned her nightgown to expose her breast. The baby's nostrils flared almost as if she smelled the scent of her mother's milk and she immediately turned toward the breast and latched on vigorously.
"Oh, you were hungry," Michaela said with a soft chuckle, stroking her wispy dark hair. She glanced at the clock. Eleven exactly. Sully had been missing for five hours now.
The baby had only been nursing a few minutes when Michaela thought she heard someone walking quietly up the stairs. She sighed with relief when the doorknob turned and Sully opened the door, entering the room. He looked just exhausted and his eyes were filled with heartache.
"I'm glad you're back," she whispered, gazing at him worriedly.
"I'm sorry," he said with a deep sigh. "Just needed some time to think."
"It's all right. I understand," she immediately replied.
He sat on the bed and took off his boots, piling them on the floor.
"William left just after you did," she explained. "He didn't stay."
He slowly nodded.
"Sully, we can't deny this. He's telling the truth." She bit her lip. "Sully, whatever his reasons were, I know the idea that he wasn't there for you all your growing up years is hard to forgive. But he's here now, and you have a chance to have a father for the first time in your life. And the children. The children have a grandfather."
"The kids got Loren. They can go to him they feel like talkin' to a grandfather. Far as I'm concerned he's a lot better man for them to look up to."
"I just think he needs to be given a chance to tell us his story, that's all."
"What about me? What about all those years he was off wherever he was, what happened to me and my mother and my brother?"
"So tell me," she said. "Tell me about those years. Sully, I can't help you if you refuse to talk about it."
"I ain't askin' for help."
"No, you're too stubborn for that," she replied intrepidly. She gazed at him. "Sully, your past is part of who you are. Talking about it, sharing it with me might help you come to terms with it a little easier. And it might help us understand how William fits into everything, to cope with him coming into our lives."
He was quiet a long moment, folding his arms and staring into the flames of the fire. Just when Michaela had given up hope he was ever going to talk about it, and she returned her attention to the baby and rocked her rhythmically in the chair, Sully took a deep breath.
"I was about six years old when I started noticin' my family was different," he began. "It was just me and my brother and our ma. And I started to really wonder about my pa."
"For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast," Katherine whispered dynamically. She read poetry or storybooks to her sons every night. One cool October night she had Byron snuggled up in her lap as usual and Will at her feet, leaning against her legs. "And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the ni-"
"Mama?" Byron interrupted.
She glanced at him. "Yes, darling?"
"How come we don't have a father like the other kids?"
"You know the answer to that. You did have a father."
"I mean, I know I had a pa. Everybody does. But why isn't he here?"
"He died, dummy," Will spoke up.
Byron scowled at him. "I know! But how did he die?"
"Will, hush," Katherine scolded. She smoothed back her youngest son's hair. "His heart broke," she explained patiently. "The year you were born was a bad year. There was some very bad weather that took our crops."
"Oh." He thought a moment. "Can we visit his grave?"
She tensed. "No," she whispered.
"How come? I wanna see."
"Byron, shush up," Will scolded.
"Don't tell me to shush!" he exclaimed.
"Boys, enough. Both of you." She kissed Byron's head. "It's painful for your mother to visit his grave. Do you understand?"
He sighed. He couldn't see what could be so bad about paying a visit to the cemetery. After all, lots of people visited the little graveyard after church to lay flowers or light candles at their loved one's resting places. But his mother was the love of his life, and whatever she said he obeyed. "Yes, ma'am," he whispered.
"Now, let's finish the poem and go to sleep," she replied. "Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving, By the light of the moon."
The baby's suckling had slowed and she was falling asleep at the breast. Michaela continued to stroke her hair, but her attention was all on Sully.
"What do you make of that?" Michaela whispered. "Do you think your mother just told you that to protect you?"
"That's all I can figure," he replied. "Maybe she thought it'd be easier for me to accept that he'd passed on, rather than that he'd run off." He gazed at the baby a moment. "Here, let me take her. I'll burp her." He got up and lifted the baby from her lap, then found a cloth on the vanity and put it over his shoulder.
Meanwhile Michaela got out of the rocking chair and opened her medical bag on the bureau, pulling out a small tin and dipping her fingers into a pale yellow salve inside.
"What's that?" Sully asked curiously as he began patting the baby's back.
"A salve made from lanolin. She's suckling so hard she's starting to make me a little sore." She reached her fingers discreetly inside her nightgown and grimaced slightly.
"You all right?"
"I'm fine. This'll help it feel better."
He kissed the baby's head. "What're ya doin', huh?" he whispered. "Ya got a real strong suckle?" The baby let out a solid little burp and scrunched up her eyes.
"I’m glad she's feeding well," Michaela said. "I'm not complaining."
"She's feedin' a little too well. She's hurtin' her ma." He kissed her head again and sat in the rocking chair, continuing to pat her back. Michaela smiled at father and daughter cuddled up together as she buttoned up her nightgown.
"You adored your mother, didn't you?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," he murmured. "She was a special lady."
"It sounds like she loved you very much, too."
"That I know for sure. She told me all the time. She taught me you should tell folks how ya feel, not be ashamed. She always said ya oughta say what's on your mind, 'cause ya never know what could happen tomorrow."
She slowly nodded. She suspected there were a lot of wonderful qualities about Sully that had come from Katherine, his ability to easily express his feelings for those around him he cared about the most only one of them.
"She never gave you any indication your father might still be alive?" Michaela asked.
"No. But I had a lot of time to think today, and now I remember somethin' Will said to me once. My brother."
"Your brother?"
"It was about a month before the accident happened. Before he passed away."
Katherine refilled Byron's glass of milk and caressed his head as he ate. "Good supper?"
Byron nodded eagerly and shoveled some more blackbird pot pie into his mouth.
Will picked at his food with his knife and fork. "Robert Duncan left for Fultonville today. To work along the docks."
"Good Lord, so young." Katherine resumed her seat and took a sip of her tea.
"He's going to bring in good money, Mama. Good wages to support the family."
"No child so young should have to support the family." She picked up her knife and fork and slid a bite of meat onto the back of the fork.
"They need lots of workers. They'll take a strong young man like me. Robert wants me to come along."
"Strong young boy is what you are," she replied. "And we've had this discussion before. You're not going." She took a bite and chewed slowly.
"How big is that canal anyway, Mama?" Byron spoke up curiously. "Does it stretch clear across the country?"
She swallowed and smiled at him. "No, darling. Just across New York State to a lake called the Erie. Still a long ways though."
"Oh, that's why it's called the Erie Canal!" he replied, taking another bite.
"I want to go, Mama," Will said firmly. "I'm going."
"You are not," she retorted. "You're going to stay here and finish your schooling. When you're sixteen then you may take a job where you wish."
His cheeks reddened and he stood up. "You can't tell me what to do!" His voice cracked as he spoke, as it had been apt to do recently.
"Yes, I certainly can. I'm your mother, lest you forget!"
"Mama, I could send my wages back to you and Byron. I could take care of us. I know I could take care of us a lot better than Pa ever did anyway." He threw his napkin on the table furiously. "Do you see us? We’re eating blackbirds for supper! Damn it, Ma!"
She eyed him furiously. "Don’t you dare take the Lord's name in vain ever again under my roof. And don't insult your father's memory. You're twelve years old and you're still my son, and you're not going anywhere!"
He groaned angrily and rushed outside, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could. Byron gazed at the door for a moment, stunned. Then he turned his attention to his mother. She was quietly dabbing at her tears with the corner of her apron.
He got up and walked to her side, giving her a comforting hug. "Shh."
"Oh," she murmured, hugging him tightly and kissing his head.
Byron slowly opened the barn door, sticking one hand in his pocket. Will was mucking out their cow's stall furiously, face red.
"Mama's crying," Byron spoke up timidly.
"Good," he retorted, voice unsteady.
Will Sully had the kind heart of his mother, but he also had a temper. When he got good and angry his tongue became sharp, and he had said hurtful things he later regretted on more than one occasion.
"Good?" Byron echoed in disbelief. "Will, you made her cry!"
"I don't care. I hate her."
"What? Don't say that!"
"I do!" he shouted. "I hate her! Good for nothin'."
Byron eyed him lividly. An insult to his mother was an insult to him. "Don't say bad things about Mama! Stop!"
"This is all her fault. Starting with the day she let Pa take off out West and leave us for good."
Byron stared back in utter confusion. "No she didn't. Pa died. His heart broke."
"Byron, you're so dumb. You're just so dumb." He raked harder and tossed some hay to the side.
"I am not!" he replied, stepping closer to him.
"She's just telling you that so's you won't cry like the baby you are. Pa took off when things got bad, left Ma with the two of us. You don't remember, but I do. There is no grave in the graveyard. Go on, see for yourself." He nudged their cow aside firmly. "Move, lazy ole cow. Move."
"It's not true!" Byron cried. "No! Liar!"
"It is true!" he retorted. "Ma's the one who lies. She's the liar!"
"No she's not!" He bolted toward him at full speed and pushed him as hard as he could, knocking him to the ground. They scuffled furiously in the hay and dust, and Byron got off a good punch to his older brother's mouth, drawing blood. William was a strong boy, but Byron could hold his own. William had the upper hand, being a lot bigger, but Byron wasn't going to give in easily.
Katherine threw open the barn door. "Boys!"
The boys immediately stopped fighting, looking up at her.
"What's going on in here! Speak up!"
They slowly got to their feet and she marched up to them, brushing off Byron's hair of dust and hay.
"We were just…we-" Byron stammered.
"We were fighting, ma'am," Will said. "I'm sorry."
"You're brothers," she said. "You must treat each other with respect."
Will pressed the back of his hand to his bloody lip.
"The three of us, we're all we have, don't you realize that?" she said tearfully. "We mustn't fight. We must stay together, face our difficulties together."
"Yes, ma'am," Will whispered.
Byron wiped at a tear dripping down his cheek and looked up at his mother. He refused to believe what Will had said, about their father abandoning them and his mother lying to him about it. It just couldn't be true. He felt his chest tightening with fear. But why would his brother tell him such a cruel thing if it weren't true? Either way, he would never tell his mother what Will said. Not ever. He loved her too much to hold her to answer to such a thing.
"Yes, ma'am," Byron echoed bravely.
Katherine put her arms around them. "Come inside. We'll read some poems before bed."
"I don't know, deep down I guess I always wondered if what Will said was true. If my pa wasn't really dead," Sully whispered, clutching the baby tightly to his chest. "It weighed on my mind real heavy after he told me that."
"Did you ever bring it up again?" Michaela asked.
"No. I thought about askin' Will a little more about it. But then…"
"But what?"
"I never got the chance," he whispered. "A month later he was killed."
Katherine knew she was right. Will was far too young to go off to work by himself and she believed so strongly that education was important for her boys and that they should finish school. Even if neither of them were the best student in their class and traditional book learning didn't come easy to them, they were still bright boys and they would do better with some kind of educational foundation. But she still felt guilty. She adored her sons, her life centered around them and their happiness, and when Will stopped speaking to her after their horrible quarrel her heart nearly broke. She would cry at night, and sometimes Byron would wake up and come sit on her bed, smooth away her tears and hold her hand to comfort her.
Will still did all his chores, went to school every day and was obedient and helpful. And on market day on Saturday morning, he drove Katherine and Byron into town as he always did.
"Get six of those potatoes, no eyes," Katherine instructed. Byron rushed to the crate of potatoes and began looking through them. Meanwhile Will grabbed a burlap sack to fill with apples as Katherine went to the vegetable stand.
Byron loved going to the market and helping his mother. She always treated him like he was very grown up, letting him count the money to pay the various merchants and help fill up the wagon with goods and supplies. And Saturdays spent with her and Will were always fun and relaxing. Katherine was usually so happy on market days. She loved seeing what everyone was selling and catching up with old friends. And after they had finished shopping, she would usually save a few cents to buy the boys some fried apples or sometimes even a sugary scone sold at one of the stands, and they would walk down to the Hudson together as they ate to watch the barges float by. Byron always looked forward to this day together.
Katherine peeled back the stalk on an ear of corn and examined the lush yellow cornels. She added it to her basket as they heard an auctioneer selling some horses and other livestock atop a podium at one end of the market.
"Want to watch?" Katherine asked, squeezing Byron's shoulder.
He smiled and grabbed her hand, walking through the crowd to get a closer look at the horses. A young man brought out a beautiful stallion across the podium so everyone could see. He was cremello in color, with a coat and mane as white as a fresh-fallen snow.
"This handsome thoroughbred was born and raised on Jefferson Farms in Utica. Two years old, good teeth," the auctioneer said. "Do I hear fifteen, who will give me fifteen?"
"He's got a flaw. Look at his ear," someone in the crowd spoke up.
Byron stood on tiptoe to see. "What's wrong with his ear, Mama?" he asked.
She shielded her eyes and peered closely. The horse's left ear was a bit mangled and tattered. It was a fatal flaw to anyone looking to show the horse, but she didn't mind it and it shouldn't affect the way he could run.
"Unfortunate run-in with a wolf when he was a foal. I assure you he races like the wind!" the auctioneer said. "Ten, who will give me ten?"
"I'll give you five," someone shouted.
"Five, five do I hear seven, who will give me seven?"
Will wandered over to his mother and little brother, the sack of apples strung over his shoulder.
"Look, Will!" Byron said. "They have a lot of horses."
"They have some beauties," he remarked, eyeing the stallion in admiration.
"Do you fancy that horse, Will?" Katherine asked.
He glanced at her, swallowing hard. "Yes, ma'am," he whispered.
She smiled with relief, thrilled that she had spoken to him. She shot her hand in the air. "Seven!"
"Ma!" Byron exclaimed, bursting into a smile. "We're gonna buy the horse?!"
"We're going to try," she replied, putting her arm around him.
"Seven, seven from the lovely fair-haired maiden right down here. Do I hear ten?"
"Ten!" somebody spoke up.
"Eleven!" Katherine immediately cried.
Will looked at her in disbelief. "Ma. Ma, you don't have to," he murmured.
She put her other arm around him. "Your thirteenth birthday is next week. You're a man now. It's time you had your own horse to ride."
"Thank you, Ma," he said, drawing her into a gentle hug.
She hugged him back lovingly. "For you, Will. For my son."
"Eleven, do I hear twelve. Do I hear twelve? Eleven going once, eleven going twice. Sold to the lady for eleven dollars. Congratulations, what a bargain!"
Byron leaped into the air. "He's ours! He's all ours!"
"He's your brother's," Katherine said, opening her purse. "It's his to care for and ride."
"Aww, Ma," Byron muttered.
"But you may have a turn from time to time if he sees fit, and I'm sure he will, won't you, William?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, beaming from ear to ear. "Our very own stallion. I can't believe it!"
Will led his new horse down to the river to drink, patting his white coat in admiration. If he wasn't in school, eating or doing chores, he was with his horse, and Byron was always close behind. They loved the stallion and Katherine was more than a little relieved to see her gift to Will had made everyone so happy again.
"When can I get a turn?" Byron asked, trailing a few paces back. "Will?"
"Later. He needs to be watered first after that run," Will said as the horse dipped his head and lapped up some river water.
Byron sighed impatiently and watched him drink a long moment. He wandered along the bank absently, looking at the ground. "Look, Will. Tracks." He squatted down and pointed at the mud.
Will left his horse a moment and joined him.
"What's that, white-tailed deer?" Byron asked.
"Good guess. But see how big it is? That's a moose."
"Moose around these parts?" he questioned.
"I saw a couple of 'em with their calves last week, probably comin' down here lookin' to feed. Lookin' for some new grass."
"Oh," Byron said. He gazed up at his brother in admiration. He always seemed so knowledgeable about everything, and Byron often wondered why he needed school at all when he had his big brother who taught him just about everything a body really needed to know, at least in Byron's opinion. Between Will's knowledge of everything to do with the outdoors, and Katherine teaching him a little of great literature and plenty of manners, Byron thought he was quite ready to make his way in the world if he wanted to.
Will eyed Byron's upper lip. There was a small, fading scar where he had socked him a few weeks before after their bad argument. "Golly. I really got ya good that time, didn’t I?"
Byron smiled faintly. "That's all right. I got ya back."
Will gave his hair a playful tousle. He didn't have to say it, but Byron knew he cared about him. Deeply. Whatever words they had exchanged were forgiven, and they were back to being brothers again. Byron loved his older brother, looked up to him, and he adored it when Will let him tag along even though Byron was younger and maybe Will might have wanted him to stay at home and not bother him. But if he did he never said so.
"Boys!" Katherine called in the distance. "Boys, where are you? Supper!"
"Can I lead the stallion back to the barn? Please, Will? Please?" Byron asked.
"All right," Will said grudgingly. "You can lead him back. But be careful. Mind you don't choke up on those reins too tight."
"Thanks!" Byron exclaimed, giving him a quick hug.
"You're welcome," Will replied with a soft smile.
"He rides like the wind, Ma," Will said excitedly as he poured some water into the basin on the table.
"Yeah, faster than the wind," Byron added.
She chuckled as she stooped beside their hearth and stirred the pot of stew. "Does he now?"
"You've never seen a finer horse!" Byron went on.
"Jumps logs, too," Will added. "Cleared a whole mess of logs just like that."
Byron reached for the knife and loaf of bread on the table.
"Byron Sully!" Katherine said, stopping him and grabbing his shirt tail. "Let me see your hands first, young man."
Byron sighed and held them up morosely.
Katherine gasped. "Look at those fingernails. It looks like you've been digging in the dust! I want you as presentable as if you were about to meet the queen when you sit at my supper table!"
"We don't got a queen in this country. That's your country," Byron said.
"Yeah, that's England, Ma," Will added wryly. "Sorry, you're in America now."
"Wash up, the both of you!" she retorted, slapping Will's chest playfully with her dishtowel. She grabbed a stack of plates to dish up the stew.
He smiled and rolled up his sleeves, then grabbed the bar of lye soap. "Bet he could clear that pasture fence easy."
"Yeah!" Byron added excitedly.
She gasped. "Don't you try, William. Don’t you dare."
"But Ma, he was made for jumpin'. You see his hind legs?" He rubbed the soap down each of his fingers vigorously.
"I see them. And I see you, too. You're not ready for that kind of jumping, do you understand? That fence is far too high. You stay to jumping logs. William?"
He sighed. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured as he dried off with a towel.
“You never give me a chance, Will,” Byron said, glancing up at his brother petulantly. "Ma said you have to share."
Will was high atop his stallion, sitting tall in the saddle and trotting along the southern edge of the property. He briefly glanced down at his brother.
“Don't you ever get bored of watchin' me ride? Don't you wanna go fishin' or somethin'?”
“Nope, don't want to. I wanna be with you,” Byron said. He picked up a stick about half his size and dragged it in the dirt.
“Tell you what. You keep a lookout for Ma. I’m gonna work on jumping the fence. Then I‘ll let you have a turn.”
Byron’s mouth dropped. “Ma said you couldn’t! It‘s too high!”
“You want a turn or don’t you?”
Byron scowled. “Fine. I‘ll keep a lookout.”
Will permitted a small smile. “You’re all right for a little brother, ya know that?”
“Yeah, sure,” Byron muttered, climbing up onto the fence and shielding his eyes from the sun.
Will galloped across the field, then slowed to a stop and turned the horse around. Byron looked around the quiet field, then squinted at the cabin in the far distance. No sign of anyone, most importantly their mother.
“All clear!” Byron shouted, raising one hand high.
Will gave the stallion a firm kick and he began galloping at full speed toward the fence. Byron looked on, admiring the fine horse.
“Look at him go,” he murmured.
Will neared the fence and urged the horse faster. But as the horse began to make a leap over the fence, he suddenly became spooked, bucking halfway across the fence. William struggled to hang on but couldn’t, slipping down the horse’s left side. His foot became caught in the stirrup and he desperately tried to free it.
“Will!” Byron shouted.
Will falling spooked the stallion further, he whinnied fiercely and he suddenly took off in a gallop along the fence. Byron jumped down from the fence in disbelief, face set in shock as Will yelled and screeched, frantically trying to shake his foot free.
Will’s struggling only made the stallion run faster, and within moments his struggling and yelling stopped, and the horse dragged the child's lifeless body several hundred more yards along the fence before his leg came free on its own.
Throat gone dry, Byron struggled to make a sound.
“Ma,” he choked breathlessly. He took a deep breath, trying to find his voice. “Ma. Ma!”
He jogged toward the cabin as the stallion finally slowed down at the other end of the field. The horse snorted and whinnied, bucking into the air a few times. Byron cupped his hands around his mouth and with all his strength screamed for his mother. "Ma! Mama!"
Katherine appeared in the doorway, balancing a bowl on her hip.
“What are you carrying on about, child?” she called.
“Will!” he screamed back. “The stallion! He’s dragged Will!”
Katherine dropped the bowl and gathered her skirts, opening the fence gate and running across the field. Byron ran too, reaching his brother first. He stopped short a few yards away, too petrified to go any farther.
Will’s body was streaked with dirt and blood. His features were nearly unrecognizable, a massive gash stretching from his scalp down across his face. Byron immediately knew he was dead.
“Will,” he managed to choke out, shaking his head in disbelief.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Katherine shouted, out of breath as she ran toward him.
Byron stood still in shock, remaining motionless as his mother brushed past him and took in the horrifying sight of her oldest son.
A guttural scream came from deep within her chest. She fell to her knees beside his body. “Will! Oh, Lord!” She gathered him in her arms and rocked him, blood soaking her blouse and skirts.
Byron shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry. I told him not to.”
She looked up at him. “Byron! What happened?! What happened?!” she screamed.
“I don’t know,” he sobbed. “The fence. His foot got stuck. His foot. I don’t know.”
Katherine cupped his face in her hands. “Oh my God, Will. William. My baby boy. No. No!” She looked up at the sky and let loose a series of primeval screams as only a mother could. "Lord God, don't take my baby boy! God. Oh, God."
Frightened, Byron stepped back, bowing his head, his chest heaving as he cried.
Katherine wailed for half an hour over Will's body, stroking his hair and rocking him. Finally she looked up at Byron, thoroughly drained.
"We have to get some help," she choked. "We must go to town."
Byron managed a nod. "The Reverend. He'll help us."
Katherine glanced up at the sky. A few buzzards had started to circle overhead. The smell of blood and death was heavy in the air, and if they left Will there it was likely animals would find him within minutes.
She stood. "Let's get him inside. Get his arm." She grabbed one of Will's arms.
"Ma," Byron protested softly.
"Byron, help me!" she said louder. "I'll not have those varmints come near your brother!"
Byron felt sick to his stomach and was petrified to touch the body, but he didn't know how he could refuse to help. He gritted his teeth and grabbed Will's other arm. Will had been a maturing young man and almost as tall as his mother. It was no easy feat to try to move him. They grunted and heaved as they dragged his body across the field to the cabin.
Finally they got him inside and Katherine managed to hoist him onto her bed. She found a sheet and covered him to his chest. Then she paused a moment, gazing at his mangled face. Byron watched her fearfully. Her blouse and skirt was soaked with dirt and dark blood, her hair was coming out of her braid in all directions, and her face was flushed and damp with tears. She always had such grace and poise, her soft voice and English accent matching perfectly with her genteel persona. Byron had never seen her lose control like this, and he was terribly frightened.
"Oh, my darling," she whispered tearfully. She kissed Will's cheek and smoothed his hair, then covered his head with the sheet.
Byron swept the last bit of dirt out the front door with their broom and then closed the door, placing the board across it to bolt it for the night. Katherine was lying in bed in her clothes, staring forward blankly.
He walked to the shelf above her bed and selected a book of poems, holding it out to her.
"Maybe you could read to me," he suggested.
"Not tonight, all right, darling?" she whispered.
"All right," he whispered, putting the book back.
She patted his hand. "Your church clothes are clean, aren't they? I want you to wear a tie at the ceremony tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am. They're clean."
"Oh, good."
He watched her for a moment. "Ma?"
"Yes?"
His lip trembled ever so slightly. "Mama, what's gonna happen to us?"
She looked into his big blue eyes. The truth was she was frightened. Petrified. Will had always taken care of them as if he were the man of the house, despite his tender age. She depended on him to help her work their small farm and take care of the family. And emotionally, he was her rock. She loved both her sons deeply, but she and Will were as close as a mother and son could be. It was Will who handed her handkerchiefs and wiped her tears when her husband left them. It was Will who helped her keep the books and handle all their meager finances. Will too had helped her look after Byron when she was feeling very overwhelmed by the responsibilities of two young sons. Even though he had only been four years old at the time, Will seemed to understand how devastated she was his father had taken off, and he stepped up and pitched in wherever he could. He had given her hope that they would get through their troubles together. And it was Will who loved his mother and brother so much he wanted desperately to go away to work on the docks so he could send home every cent of his pay to help support them. He would have gone too, if only she had let him.
"We'll just, we'll take this one day at a time," Katherine said unsteadily. "Now, we must get some sleep. Tomorrow we must bury your brother."
Tears welled in his eyes and he struggled to be brave. "Goodnight, Ma."
"Oh," she murmured emotively, holding out her arms.
He burst into quiet sobs and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Mama. I just wish he never got on that horse."
"I know. I know," she said, rocking him.
"I shoulda stopped him," he cried. "I knew he was gonna jump that fence. I just shoulda stopped him!"
"No, no." She caressed his face. "You listen to me. It was not your fault. You understand? Byron? It was not your fault."
He sniffled. "Yes, ma'am."
"If anyone's to blame it's me. I bought him that horse," she whispered.
"No, Ma!" He shook his head. "No, it's not your fault either. It was just an accident. It was a real bad accident," he said tearfully.
She held him close for a long moment and kissed his head.
"It was an accident," he whispered again.
She pulled back the covers. "Here, sleep with Mama tonight."
He nodded, immensely relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was go off to his own bed all by himself, and have to look at Will's empty bed beside him all night.
She gathered him into her arms. "Mama still loves you, you know that don't you? I haven't forgotten you."
He edged up and kissed her cheek, then cuddled up against her and fell into a much-needed sleep.
Katherine had a breakdown at Will's funeral. Just after the Reverend had given the benediction and the small group of mourners began disbanding, she stepped toward the simple wooden coffin and threw her arms around it desperately.
"You can't take my baby!" she cried over and over. "I won't let you put him down there!" Then she started clawing at the coffin, trying to pry it open.
Byron watched in disbelief as first the Reverend, then a few of their friends tried to pull her away. Katherine just grew more manic, screaming at them to bury her down there with him. Byron started crying and finally someone found the town doctor and he came running over with his medical bag. He poured some kind of liquid onto a cloth, held it over her nose and she fainted into his arms.
"There's a good girl," the doctor said, and two more men helped carry her to the doctor's little office in town. Byron sat quietly outside on the bench for three hours until finally Katherine came out and the Reverend's wife drove them home and stayed with them for five days. On the fifth day Katherine started getting up and doing the chores and functioning more normally, and the Reverend's wife deemed her fit enough to be left on her own to look after the farm, care for her son, and go on with their lives.
"Supper tastes good,” Byron remarked gently, slurping a small bite of stew.
Katherine glanced at her plate as if just noticing it. She dipped her spoon in but didn’t eat. Gradually, her eyes wandered to the rifle hanging above the mantel. Byron watched her with intense concern.
“Could you read to me before bed?” Byron said, reaching his hand out and touching her arm. “Some poems?”
She briefly looked at him. “Finish your supper.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered obediently.
He ate the remainder of the meal in silence. When he had scraped the last bite of stew from his plate and emptied his milk glass, he sat back.
He attempted a cheerful smile. “I’ll clean up, Ma. I don’t mind. I like to.”
She barely nodded in acknowledgement, giving her full plate a small nudge in his direction.
Byron stacked their plates and carried them to the basin, placing them inside. As he turned back to the table Katherine rose to her feet and strolled to the mantel. She looked up at the rifle for a long moment. Byron froze, watching her worriedly. At last she reached up and lifted it down.
“Whatcha doing, Ma?” he spoke up, voice unsteady.
Katherine ran her hand down the smooth, shiny barrel, then clutched it to her chest and walked slowly to the door.
“Ma?” Byron said more urgently. “Ma, what’re you doing with the rifle? Ma!”
Katherine opened the door, ignoring him.
Suddenly, Byron rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. “Ma! Ma, what’s the matter? Can’t you hear me? Ma!”
“Let go of me,” she retorted, trying to shake him off.
Tears suddenly clouded his vision. “Ma! No, Ma!”
Angrily, she spun to face him and gripped his arm firmly. “Stay here and sit at the table. Is that clear?”
Baffled, he looked up at her. “What’re ya doing? What’re ya gonna do with the rifle? You can‘t!”
“Sit there!” she shouted, pointing at the table. “Now!”
Chastened, he slowly backed up, tears flowing. “Don’t do it, Ma,” he choked. “Please. Please.”
“Hush. Sit there,” she said more gently. With that she walked out the door and shut it behind her.
Byron sunk into a chair, covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes tight shut. A torturous minute passed until finally a single, thunderous gunshot broke the quiet night. Byron shook with the sound, then began sobbing, too petrified to move.
A few moments later Katherine suddenly opened the door, without the rifle. Byron whipped his head up, shocked to see her.
“Ma!”
Katherine broke down and rushed to him, gathering him in her arms and rocking him.
“Hush, Byron. Hush.”
“You’re all right!” he said in disbelief.
She kissed his head. “I shot the stallion.”
He wiped his nose and hugged her tightly. “Oh.”
“I had to shoot the stallion,” she repeated in a whisper.
“Ma, we’ll be all right. We're gonna be all right. I’ll look after you now. I'll take care of you.”
“Oh, child,” she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing his head against her shoulder.
Byron awoke at sunrise the next morning, letting out a little yawn. He gazed across the small room of their cabin at his mother's bed. The covers were turned down and the sheets were wrinkled. He got up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes. The fire had died in the hearth and the house was strangely quiet. Katherine was nowhere to be found. Even after Will died, she still got up every morning at the crack of dawn and made Byron breakfast, helped him comb his hair and took care of him. It was strange she wasn't around.
"Ma?" he called hoarsely.
He got out of bed and found his trousers, stepping into them and pulling the suspenders over his shoulders.
"Ma? Where are you?" he called again.
He walked across the room and opened the door, heading toward the barn.
"Ma, you in here?" he said, opening the door. The cow was stamping her foot, restless to be milked, and the chickens were cackling loudly and bustling about ready to be fed.
He wrinkled his brow, heading out of the barn. He suddenly spotted a buggy driving down the little road to their cabin. It wasn't often they received callers being this far from town, and especially not at this time in the morning. Intrigued, he jogged back to the cabin to meet them. It was the Reverend's buggy, he soon realized. The Reverend was driving and sitting next to him was a police constable. The Reverend's wife was in the back. They pulled the buggy up to a stop in front of him.
"Reverend," he said, his brow wrinkling all the more. "Ma'am."
"Good morning, Byron," the Reverend's wife said kindly. Their faces were drawn and he could tell that both the preacher and his wife had been crying.
"What's wrong?" the little boy demanded.
"Byron, this is Constable McGuire," the Reverend said. "We'd like to talk to you."
"Mornin', young man," the constable replied, his Irish accent thick.
"Come inside," the Reverend said, clutching his arm. "We'll sit at the table."
Byron gazed up at the adults skeptically. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He felt it deep in his gut. "No. Just tell me. Tell me why you're here." He swallowed hard. "Where's my ma? Do you know where she is? Where is she?!"
"Let's sit inside, dear," the Reverend's wife said, grabbing his hand.
He snatched it away. "I said no!" he retorted.
The Reverend clutched his shoulder and removed his hat, slowly squatting to his level. "Boy, I'm terribly sorry. Your mother….your mother's gone."
He looked up at him, blinking in disbelief. "Gone? What?"
"She's passed on, Byron," his wife said, clutching his other shoulder.
He shook his head, eyes welling with tears as they slipped down his cheeks. "No. No, you're lying."
"I wish we were," she replied. "Oh, you poor dear."
"How?!" he shouted hoarsely. "How?! She was just here! She read to me last night before bed!"
The Reverend looked at his wife helplessly. She was so overcome she couldn't speak anymore.
"She drowned, boy-o," the constable explained quietly. "In the Hudson. She be found by an ole fisherman this mornin'."
"No, that couldn't be. Ma knows how to swim. She swims real good. She taught me." He kept shaking his head. "No, where is she? Where is she?" He ran a few feet past them, looking around the property desperately. "Ma! Mama!"
"I'm very sorry, Byron," the Reverend said, stepping toward him. "You must come with us now and stay with my wife and me temporarily while we make arrangements for her burial."
He spun around, eyeing the three of them vehemently. "You're liars!" He turned around and bolted across the property, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Byron!" the Reverend called.
"Let him alone, dear," his wife whispered, touching his arm. "Let's give him a moment to himself."
The constable nodded in agreement and the Reverend stepped back, allowing Byron to run off and be by himself for a little awhile.
Byron raced all the way to the fence at the south end of the property. It was the fence that the three of them had built together and helped maintain on the farm they had shared such joy and good times on, where Katherine was single-handedly giving her two growing boys a loving, happy childhood. That is until the day Will fell off his horse and everything changed.
"Mama, you can't do this," he sobbed, gasping for air as sweat and tears poured down his cheeks. He kicked the fence post hard a few times. "You can't leave me all alone. No. No! Mama!" He fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around them and rocking. "Don't do this, Mama. Please. Please." He rested his head against the fencepost and wept there uncontrollably until the constable eventually came out there to fetch him. He wrapped the exhausted child in a wool blanket and carried him back to the buggy, placing him inside to go home with the Reverend.
The Reverend sat solemnly with his wife at the table in the firelight, both of them too distraught to sleep. Katherine had been a loyal member of the little town church, bringing her two sons every Sunday and tithing as much as she could manage. Over the years she had become close with both of them, and her death was nothing short of shocking.
Byron pretended to be asleep on the little cot they had set up for him in the corner of the room, but he too was far too upset to be able to settle down and get some much-needed rest.
"We'll have to bury her down by the old mill, in the pauper's graveyard," the Reverend spoke up at last. He raised his coffee mug and took a small snip.
"John, no!" she protested.
"We have no choice, Melinda," he replied.
"But she was such a faithful member of the congregation, a good Christian woman. She should be buried beside her son. I can't bear it to lay her to rest anywhere else."
"Don't you think that's what I want, too? But I'll lose my congregation if I allow it," he said, shaking his head.
"Is that what you'll tell your maker when He calls you home?" she demanded.
"She killed herself," he retorted. "She simply cannot be buried in the church cemetery. I'm sorry."
She was quiet for a long moment, then folded her hands pensively. "What of the boy?"
"He's going to have to go to the orphanage. I'll write them in the morning."
"Oh, John. Couldn't we somehow….? He's such a precious little thing."
"Don't. We can't take him in. We have four of our own we can barely feed." He stood up abruptly and put down his mug. "I'm going to bed."
"John, this isn't right," she whispered.
"I feel guilty enough. Please don't make it worse," he murmured as he walked off.
Byron stifled a sob and wiped at his tears. His mother was going to be buried beside thieves and murderers, and shortly thereafter, he would be sent to the big city of New York to live the rest of his childhood in an orphanage. He had never felt so frightened, so helpless, or so despondent in his life.
Sully slowly looked up, eyes filled with pain. "It was suicide, Michaela. My ma couldn't go on without Will. She killed herself."
Michaela got up from the rocking chair and walked to the bed, tears welling in her eyes.
"Oh, Sully," she whispered, reaching her hand up and rubbing his arm. "Oh."
He swallowed hard and a tear slipped down his cheek.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her chest, caressing his hair and kissing his head. "I had no idea. I just had no idea."
He let her comfort him for a long moment. He had never been able to really grieve the loss of his mother. He was immediately sent off to an orphanage and from there he ran away and worked on the docks. Instead of facing the pain and heartache of what had happened, he tried to push it away and not think about it. Ever since then when anyone asked about his mother or his growing up years, he would brush them off and refuse to talk about it. He hadn't talked about it with Abigail, and he had said little to Michaela up until today. He realized now that had been a mistake.
He clutched Michaela tighter and kissed the baby's head.
"I always told myself I was gonna do better by 'em if I had my own family someday," he whispered unsteadily. "Just want our kids to be happy, have a good life. Want them to look back on their childhood as happy times. Not as somethin' they wanna forget."
"You are. You're giving them a wonderful childhood." She kept stroking his hair. "You're a wonderful father."
He clutched her hand and gave it an appreciative kiss, then pressed it to his cheek. "We should get in bed. It's late."
She nodded and climbed under the covers. He handed her Eliza and helped her nestle the baby against her breast, then he got in beside her and snuggled up close.
Sully watched the baby for a long moment, stroking her back. Her full, pink lips were parted slightly as she slumbered contentedly. "She looks so peaceful when she sleeps," he whispered. "So beautiful."
Michaela met his eyes, swallowing hard. "You don't want anything to do with William, do you?"
"Michaela, I know ya wanna see the good in folks. Ya just wanna help folks forgive the past and move on. But I was ten years old and all on my own. If William was alive somewhere, you know how badly I needed him right then? He coulda took me in, looked after me." He shook his head. "He wasn't there. My brother died, he wasn't there. My mother died, he wasn't there. When I needed my pa the most, he wasn't there."
"What happened to you, Sully? How did you survive it all by yourself?"
"Byron?" Georgie whispered in the moonlight. "Byron, what're ya doin'?"
"Nothin'," Byron whispered back as he meticulously packed his belongings into a pillowcase. He was sitting on his cot in the large room where all the older boys slept at the orphanage. Aside from Georgie, who was twelve and had been in the orphanage for two years because his parents were destitute and couldn't take care of him, Byron had no friends there. He had spent seven days there, and cried himself to sleep every night. He was tired of feeling cold and hungry and missing his mother. It was time he take matters into his own hands.
"You ain't fixin' to run off, are ya?" Georgie asked. "Are you crazy?"
"I can't stay here, Georgie." He carefully placed his mother's book of poems inside the pillowcase.
"It ain't so bad, once ya get used to it. And who knows, maybe a family'll want ya. Take ya in."
"Nobody's gonna want me." He glanced up as a rat scurried across the back wall of the room and disappeared behind a bureau.
"Where you think you're gonna go? What do you think you're gonna do, get a job? A little kid like you?"
"I'm strong, and I can work hard. My brother said there's work along the Erie Canal. I’m gonna head north along the Hudson until I come across it."
"Erie Canal? You realize that's all the way up near Troy? That's at least a hundred miles away, maybe more!
"I'll manage."
He shook his head in disbelief. "You're really set on goin' through with this, ain't ya?"
"Yep."
Georgie reached under his pillow and came up with half a loaf of bread. "Here, take this. You're gonna have to eat."
Byron nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Georgie."
"You be careful now. Don't let the boards creek on your way out. They'll whip you good they catch you."
"You won't say anything, will you, Georgie?"
The older boy sighed. "No, I won't say anything. Now go on with ya. Get."
Byron found escaping from the orphanage one of the easiest things he ever had to do in his young life. His brother had taught him how to walk softly in the woods to sneak up on prey with a slingshot, and he simply tiptoed down the hallway, unlatched the front door and walked right outside to the streets of Brooklyn without ever waking the orphanage director or any of the headmasters. He wasn't all that worried he could be caught in the first place. He doubted if anyone would ever really notice his absence anyway, let alone care that he was gone.
From there he headed down to the Hudson, and in the darkness climbed discreetly onto the back of a freight barge ready to head north at daybreak. He road the barge all of the next two days unnoticed until finally the captain came across him and dumped him off at the nearest port in Troy, exactly where Byron wanted to end up.
Byron stood in line in front of a small table set up outside along the canal. A big, middle aged man had several books open and was writing down the names of boys as they came forward.
"Next?" he shouted.
Byron stepped forward and put his pack at his feet.
"Name?" the man demanded.
"Byron Sully," he said timidly.
A group of boys standing off to the side suddenly snickered at him. He whipped around to face them, giving them a fierce look.
"What're ya gonna do?" asked the tallest boy. He was handsome and tan, with a thick crop of sun-bleached blond hair. "What're ya gonna do about it, huh, Byron?"
Byron scowled and crossed his arms.
"Spell it," the man instructed.
"B-y-r-o-n," he murmured. "S-u-l-l-y."
"How old are you?" the man asked.
Byron tried to stand as tall as he could and look a lot older than he was. "Twelve, sir."
"Twelve?" he repeated skeptically.
"Yes, sir," he said, trying to make his voice sound as big and strong as possible.
"Twelve!" the blond boy shouted, slapping his knee with laughter. "If you're twelve then I'm the president of the United States!"
"I am! I am twelve!" Byron retorted desperately.
"Don't believe it, boss, don't believe it," the boy warned.
The boss just kept writing in his books. "Can you lead a mule down the docks, boy?"
Byron cleared his throat. "Do I have to ride it?"
"No, you just have to lead it."
"Yes, sir. I can lead it."
"Can you swim? Can't have my boys fallin' in and drownin' on me."
"Yes, sir. I swim real good."
"Good, you're hired then. It's a dollar a week, you'll share a room with the other boys. Be up at four o'clock tomorrow." He handed him a bedroll. "Quarters are over there. Make yourself at home."
Byron took the bedroll and walked toward the little cabin nearby.
"Where ya goin', shorty?" the older boy shouted, walking up to him.
"No place," Byron retorted, walking right by him and heading inside the cabin.
"I'm Daniel," the boy said. "I run this cabin. All the boys come to me they got any problems, and I sort it out."
"I don't need your help," he retorted, selected an empty bunk and throwing his roll up top.
Daniel threw his bedroll off the bunk. "Who says you get the top?"
Byron picked up his bedroll and put it on the lower bunk, unraveling it.
"What kind of name is Byron anyway?" Daniel asked with a laugh. "Byron, Byron. Sounds pretty sissy to me."
"My name's not Byron," he said, sitting on his bunk. "It's….it's Sully. Yeah. Sully."
"Oh, well, sorry, Sully," Daniel said, shaking his head with amusement. "My mistake."
"Leave me alone," Byron said, lying down on his cot and hugging his blanket. "Just leave me alone."
"Where your folks?" Daniel asked curiously. "How come you're here all by yourself?"
Byron swallowed hard.
"Where are they?" Daniel said persistently.
"Passed on," Byron whispered, choking up.
Daniel's smile immediately fell and he suddenly felt guilty for giving the new-comer such a hard time. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "Say, we all play cards every night by the fire. You can come watch if you want."
"No thanks," he whispered.
"Suit yourself," Daniel replied, walking out of the cabin.
"Open the sluices!" Sully's boss shouted.
Sully scrambled to pull on the ropes that opened the sluice gates and let water drain into the lock. "Hogees" was what everyone called the boys who worked along the canal, though Sully didn't know why. He worked along lock numbers three, four and five in Waterford, leading the mules that pulled the freight barges and passenger ships and opening and closing the locks so that the traffic could make its way slowly uphill across the state. The entire process took about twenty minutes from when a boat first approached the lock to when they sent it on its way. Daniel and the other big boys would tow the boat into the lock with the mules and then untie the tow line. Then another boy would close the downstream gate. Sully was in charge of the sluices that allowed water to flow in and out of the lock. He would open them when his boss gave him the go ahead. Then they just had to watch for almost fifteen long minutes as the lock filled with water and the boat rose. Then when the water level reached the top they opened the upstream gates, retied the line to the boat and towed it out.
It was hard work and long hours exposed to the elements, but Sully was good at it. He had a mind for the mechanical aspects of the locks, which had impressed his boss. He understood perfectly how it all worked, and had even suggested a few improvements to make the process go faster. His boss liked him and treated him fairly, and Sully was proud of the money he earned each week for honest work, and saved every cent in a small pouch under his mattress.
"Good job, Sully," his boss called.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
Daniel watched him irritably, where he was standing by the mule. He had always been the favorite until Sully came along. Now his boss seemed to like Sully the best, and Daniel was fed up.
He walked over to him decisively.
"Hey, Byron. You pull the mule for awhile," Daniel ordered. "Come on, you never do."
Sully glanced at him and then turned his attention back to the lock, watching the water fill up.
"I said you pull the mule," Daniel said. "Are you deef?"
"I don't want to," Sully said firmly.
"You scared? You scared of a little ole mule?" He laughed and shook his head.
Sully glared at him. "I'm doin' the sluices."
Daniel pushed his shoulder. "Come on. Come on, Byron, you sissy." He pushed him again. "Byron. Byron. Scared of a little ole mule, he is."
Sully suddenly whipped around, brow narrowed furiously, and raised his arms, growling and pushing Daniel as hard as he could. Daniel was so thrown off guard he stumbled backward and fell straight into the canal with a big splash. He came up sputtering out dirty water with the most comical look of surprise on his face Sully had ever seen. The other boys laughed hysterically and his boss ran off to find a rope to pull him out.
Sully glared down at him. "Don't call me a sissy. And don't call me Byron. It's Sully. You got it?"
Daniel blinked, mouth agape, as he treaded water. A newfound respect suddenly developed for the younger boy. "Yeah, yeah, sure," he murmured.
"Good," Sully replied.
Daniel removed his stick from the fire and blew on the piece of venison on the end.
"Here ya go," he said, handing it to Sully.
Sully took the stick from him and blew on it again. "Thanks."
They were the last two boys left by the fire beneath the starry sky, the rest of the boys having retired for the night. Ever since Sully had pushed Daniel into the canal, they had been best friends. For three years they worked side by side on the docks. Daniel was older and taller, he was popular and remarkably handsome, and his voice had deepened long ago, making him sound very grown up. And the girls loved him. He had already kissed a girl and seemed to know everything there was to know about them, and took pride in educating the younger boys in such matters. Sully on the other hand was on the scrawny side, his ears stuck out, and he still had the high voice of a child. He was getting impatient for it to change. It seemed he was the only worker there who still sounded like a little boy. It occasionally cracked in a very embarrassing way, but that was all. Girls had no interest in him, not that he was surprised. And to add insult to injury, he was shorter than all the other boys. He was really nothing like Daniel. But for some reason the pair of them got along.
Daniel was a city boy from the booming capital of Albany who had made his own way after his parents were killed in a wagon wreck. He helped to toughen Sully up, arm wrestling him and showing him how to pull himself up on a big wooden bar the boys had set up in their cabin to make his arm and back muscles strong. Sully in turn had taught Daniel things he learned growing up in the rural countryside, like how to hunt, trap and track, and how to rely on the sun, the stars, and other signs of nature to help guide you when you didn't have a compass or to tell you when bad weather was coming.
"Daniel?" Sully asked, taking a bite of venison. "You gonna do this the rest of your life? Work the docks?"
He chuckled. "Course not. I got plans. Big plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Well, someday when I'm old enough, saved up my money, I'm gonna head out West. Be a miner, strike it rich."
"California?"
"No, not there."
"Not California? I hear tell everybody's findin' gold nuggets in this place called Sutter's Mill out by San Frisco."
"No, see that's where I'm usin' my brains," he said, tapping his temple. "I figure while everybody else is runnin' around on top of each other lookin' for gold dust like chickens with their heads cut off, I'll be all my own. Say I'll go to maybe Utah, Nevada, Colorado. Bet you anything somebody's gonna strike it rich there soon enough. May take me a little longer, but once I hit it I'll have it all to myself."
"Oh, good thinkin'," Sully said in admiration. One thing Daniel was was clever. Sully thought that in many ways, Daniel was a lot smarter than him. But Daniel couldn't read. His parents had never made him go to school. Sully wasn't the best reader, but thanks to his mother insisting he get some book learning, he could read better than most of the boys there. They always came to him when they wanted to know what a sign said or what was in a newspaper they would find from time to time. That's how they had found out about the gold rush, from Sully seeing it in an old newspaper one day. Three of the boys had taken off right there and then for California.
"Problem is ya gotta be eighteen to stake a claim," Daniel said with a sigh. "Two years away."
"Oh." He thought a long moment, chewing pensively. "Maybe I'll go out West someday. I hear there's not a lot of people out there."
Daniel eyed him curiously. "You don't like people, do you?"
Sully glanced at him. "Huh? I like people."
"Then how come you don't talk? You never talk to nobody except me."
"I don't got anything I want to say to them, that's all."
"You're crazy sometimes, Sully, you know that?"
"Yeah, well, you're tall."
Daniel laughed and threw another log on the fire. "You'll catch up. You'll see."
"Daniel? You think the two of us put our money together, we could run off out West together? Strike it rich?"
Daniel stirred the fire with a stick. "That ain't a bad idea. After all, two heads are better than one."
"It's gonna be an even longer time before I'm eighteen."
"We could lie. You lied to get this job."
"I reckon that's true." He sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Daniel, you ever miss your folks?"
"I don't know. Sometimes. But fact is there's nothin' I can do about it, so way I figure, I best find a way to look after myself I wanna make it. Nobody else is gonna take care of me, that's for sure."
Sully nodded slowly and stuck his stick in the fire.
"I'm gonna turn in," Daniel said, standing up and brushing off his shirt. "Night, Sully."
"Night, Daniel," Sully murmured, hugging his knees and staring into the flames.
* * *
"About six months later, we come out West," Sully explained. "Worked the silver mines together for awhile. Eventually we parted ways, he headed north to Nevada, and I ended up settlin' in Colorado. And that's where I met Abigail and settled down."
Michaela grasped his hand and threaded her fingers with his. "I still don't know how you got through all this, a boy as young as you were."
"Ya make do," he murmured. "Guess I just learned to live with things I couldn't change."
"Thank you for telling me this, Sully," she said. "For sharing this part of you with me. I understand now why you never did before."
"Just hurts sometimes to bring it all up again," he admitted.
"I know. But sometimes we need to experience some of that hurt first to truly find healing. It's part of the process."
He nodded and shifted forward, pressing his lips to hers. "We should get some sleep. G'night."
"Goodnight. I love you," she replied.
He pressed his forehead to hers. "Love ya, too."
Michaela awoke at dawn the next morning. She was as quiet as she could be while Sully slept and she nursed Eliza, burped her, and changed her diaper, putting some more salve on the baby's diaper rash. Then she tucked the baby beside Sully and walked to the basin, washed her face and got dressed and ready for the day. Finally she picked up the baby again and sat in the rocking chair, patiently waiting for Sully to rouse.
"Shouldn't of let me sleep so long," Sully murmured at last as he slowly opened his eyes and regained his bearings.
"It's all right. You were tired," she replied. She gazed at him with a newfound love and respect. He had been through such a tragic childhood, enduring such incredible loss and having to grow up so fast. It had shaped the man he would become, the man she fell in love with. He had overcome it, building a new life for himself and their family when most people would have given up, resigning themselves to unhappiness.
"How's she doin' this mornin'?" he asked, slowly propping himself up in bed and gazing at their new daughter.
She glanced down at the baby. "Fine. Her diaper rash looks a little better."
"That's good."
She looked back up. "Sully, what are we going to do about William?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he's here now, and it sounds to me like he wants to be in your life."
"Never said I wanted him in mine."
"So we're just going to shut the door on him? Never talk to him again?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Michaela, I haven't thought all this through."
She took a brave breath. "Sully, I think we should at least tell the children."
He immediately shook his head. "No. No, I don't wanna drag all of 'em into this, too."
"He's their grandfather."
"Only by blood."
"Regardless of how you feel about him, I think our children have a right to know they have a grandfather. And to get to know him."
"I ain't sure they should get to know a man like that."
Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. "My father would have loved them. My sisters' children were his pride and joy. I remember when Rebecca's first son Alexander was born, the tears in his eyes when he announced to all of us he had a grandson. When he wasn't going on about medicine, it was his grandchildren he was telling everyone about." The tears fell down her cheeks. "What I wouldn't give for him to have known our children, to be part of their lives."
"Is this about your pa? Michaela, I'm sorry he's gone, that he never knew the kids. But fact is there's nothin' we can do to replace him. If you want William around just 'cause you want the kids to have a gran'pa...no, I don't want him around my family."
"What about what I want?" She shook her head. "Sully, please don't deny them this opportunity. You don’t have to welcome William with open arms. But don't deny the children the only chance they're ever going to have to have a grandfather."
Sully felt that deep down Michaela only wanted William around because she missed her father. He had confidence she would soon discover the man was nothing like Josef Quinn, and she would lose interest in trying to foster any meaningful relationship with him. "All right," he murmured. "All right, ya can tell the kids if that's what ya really think we should do. But I ain't gonna force this on them. If they wanna see William, that's up to them. It's their decision."
"All right," she replied with a small nod. "We'll tell them tonight."
Byron peered around the side of the boarding house, surveying the area carefully. Then he motioned for Red Eagle, Samantha and Katie.
"All clear," he whispered. "Come on!"
Katie held a bundle of colorful wildflowers behind her back. The children scurried inside the boarding house and upstairs to Myra and Samantha's room. Samantha quickly found a glass and filled it with some water from a pitcher.
"Put them in here," she instructed.
The girls arranged the flowers in the vase, then Samantha placed it carefully on the nightstand beside her mother's bed.
"There," Red Eagle said. "Perfect."
Samantha beamed and squeezed Katie's hand.
"She'll know your pa loves her a lot, soon as she sees those flowers," Byron added with a big grin.
Michaela tenderly rocked the baby from side to side as she stood outside the Gazette with Dorothy.
"Well, most babies get it at some point," Dorothy remarked. "Tommy had an awful case of it when he was about five months old. I was beside myself."
"What did you do?" Michaela asked, worriedly giving the baby's head a kiss.
"Just what you're doing. Lots of salve and changing his diaper a lot. Oh, and I used to let him, well…air out. That was quite the sight when the town preacher came calling once, little Tommy crawling all over the cabin without a stitch on!"
"I'm sure he'll love that you're telling me this," Michaela replied with a soft chuckle.
She smiled and rubbed the baby's belly. "Don't worry, Michaela. It'll be gone in no time."
Michaela held Eliza all the closer. "It's the least of my worries at the moment."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you met Myra's friend from St. Louis? William?"
"No I haven't yet. I heard she had somebody with her. He's gonna work for Horace, isn't he?"
"His name is William Sully."
"Oh, is he related to you?"
"He's Sully's father."
Dorothy pressed her hand to her heart. "What? Michaela, I thought Sully's parents were dead!"
"So did we. But William knows intimate details about Sully's past. He says the truth is he left for work when Sully was an infant and never returned."
"Oh, my goodness. How remarkable. What does Sully think of all this?"
"He's shocked, upset. Angry. He feels that his father abandoned him when he needed him the most."
"Oh, Michaela. What are you going to do?"
"We're not sure yet. He at least agrees the children should get to know him. We haven't told them yet. We're going to talk to them tonight."
"Well, good luck."
"Dorothy, I'd appreciate it if you don't mention this in your Gazette. This is going to be difficult enough for Sully without the entire town knowing about it."
"Oh, of course. I wouldn't dream of it."
"Thank you."
"Oh, why are the children at the boarding house?" Dorothy asked, shielding her eyes and looking down the street.
Michaela turned and followed her gaze. The children were walking out onto the porch of the boarding house, giggling and looking very pleased with themselves.
"They must have been playing inside. Samantha's staying there with Myra," Michaela explained. "Sam and Katie have fast become best friends."
"Oh, that's sweet. Such a shame the two of them don't live here anymore."
"Yes, we all miss them," Michaela said. "We should head home. I'll see you later, Dorothy."
"Bye, Michaela."
Michaela stepped down from the porch and crossed the street toward the children. "What were you playing in the boarding house?" she called.
"Nothing," Red Eagle blurted.
"I hope you weren't doing something you shouldn't," Michaela said skeptically. "You look a little guilty to me."
"We were just playing, um…cowboys," Byron said, clearing his throat.
"Yeah, cowboys!" Samantha exclaimed.
"I see," she replied with a raise of her eyebrows. "Well, it's time we head home now. You have homework to start."
"You have a good day?" Myra asked as she opened the boarding house door and held Samantha's hand.
"Yeah. Real good," Samantha replied, glancing up at her.
"What did you play with Katie and Byron and Red Eagle?"
Samantha bit her lip and averted her eyes. "I don't know. Stuff."
"Oh. Stuff," Myra repeated with amusement. She unlocked the door to their room and lit a lamp inside. "Oh, chilly in here."
Samantha hugged her shoulders as Myra quickly walked to the stove and lit a match, throwing it inside.
"I have a good idea, Sam," Myra said. "What do you say we get in our nightclothes and we cozy up in bed and read a book together? Would you like that?"
Samantha beamed. "Yes, Mama."
"Good. Go on," Myra instructed. Samantha hurried to her suitcase to find her night things and Myra walked to her bed and pulled down the sheets, then found the long metal bed warmer leaning beside the bed and placed it beside the stove, ready for some coals just as soon as they heated up. She stopped short and gazed at the bouquet of flowers on the nightstand, noticing them for the first time.
"Would you look at that," she breathed. "Where did those come from?"
"What?" Samantha asked innocently as she continued to sort through her suitcase.
Myra circled the bed and lightly touched her fingers to the petals. "These flowers. Do you know how they got here?"
Samantha bit her lip. She hated to lie and she wasn't very good at it, but it was for a good cause. "No, Mama. I don't."
"I wonder who they could be from," Myra murmured. "There's no note."
"Maybe from Papa," Samantha said quietly, clasping her hands behind her back.
Myra chuckled softly. "Oh, no. I don't think so. Your papa hasn't done something like this in ages."
"Oh," Samantha murmured with disappointment.
"Although…anything's possible," Myra admitted.
Samantha smiled again.
"Well, get your nightgown on," Myra said with a chuckle. "I want to cozy up with my sweetheart!"
Samantha beamed and hurried to change for bed.
Michaela dished up some more mashed potatoes onto Byron's plate and tucked his napkin securely into his collar. Sully sat next to her, silently buttering a roll. He was never really a big talker at supper. It was the children who did most of the chattering, with Michaela and Elizabeth responding to them and encouraging them. But tonight he had been all the more quiet and brooding, quickly eating his meal and not even looking at any of them. Michaela had Eliza tucked against her belly in her sling, and the baby was dozing peacefully while the rest of the family ate their supper.
"Samantha says in St. Louis they have this big river and sometimes she and her mama take a steamboat ride," Katie said enthusiastically, taking a gulp of milk.
"That's the Mississippi, dear," Elizabeth explained. "The longest river in America."
"I wish we could take a steamboat ride," Byron added. "Sam said the captain even let her pull the whistle once!"
"They wouldn't let you pull the whistle," Red Eagle remarked. "You'd break it."
"I would not!" Byron protested. "Mama, I wouldn't break it!"
"You do break everything you touch, Byron," Katie remarked.
Michaela chuckled and pointed her fork at his plate. "Finish your vegetables. All of you. Those are my special stewed carrots."
"Mama, can I ask you something about Samantha?" Katie spoke up.
Michaela cut into her chicken. "Of course."
Katie wrinkled her brow. "How come she and her ma don't live with her pa anymore? How come they live so far away?"
Michaela cleared her throat and glanced at Sully for help, but he just looked away and didn't seem to want to get involved in this particular conversation, or any conversation at the moment for that matter.
"Katie, it's really not polite of us to inquire about matters like that," Elizabeth said, picking up her napkin and dabbing at the corners of her mouth. "It's not our concern."
Katie rested her elbow on the table and sighed. "Seems like nothing's polite to talk about."
"It's all right to come to me with things that you're curious about, sweetheart," Michaela spoke up reassuringly. "It's important that families are open with each other, can feel safe sharing things with each other."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes discreetly and took a bit of her chicken. Michaela was certainly much more forthright with her children than Elizabeth had ever been when she was raising her daughters. But Michaela was their mother, and if she wanted to tell them everything then that was her prerogative, and Elizabeth wasn't going to do anything more than let her know she disapproved.
Michaela rested her silverware across her plate. "I know you don't remember, but when you were a baby, Samantha's ma and pa decided everyone would be happier if they got a divorce."
"What's a divorce?" Red Eagle asked.
"Sam told us. It's when the ma and the kids never see their pa ever again," Byron remarked.
"Well, unfortunately sometimes that's what happens," Michaela said, gently rubbing his back. "But usually when a husband and wife decide their marriage isn't working out and they shouldn't live together anymore, they make arrangements so that the children can see as much of both their father and mother as possible."
Katie bent her head a little. "I feel sad about Samantha."
"Me, too," Red Eagle added.
"Yeah, me, too," Byron said.
"Well, you're right, divorce can be a very sad thing," Michaela said. "And I'm sure all of this has been very hard on Samantha at times. But it's nice the three of you are so kind to her and have made her feel at home even though she doesn't get to come out here too often."
"Maybe William could be like her pa in St. Louis," Byron suggested. "Or a gran'pa. Then she won't miss her pa here so much."
Michaela glanced at Sully. She could see his jaw clench and his muscles tense at the mere mention of the old man's name.
"Speaking of which, what do you think of him?" Michaela gently probed.
"William?" Katie said. "I don't know. He's nice."
"I like his voice. He talks funny," Byron said with a giggle.
"He's from England, that's why he talks like that," Red Eagle told him.
"I know that, silly," Byron protested.
Michaela casually cut a piece of chicken. "What would you think about inviting him over for supper sometime? Or to a baseball game?"
"Oh, does he like baseball?" Byron replied. "Wonder if they have that where he's from."
"Well, I thought it just might be nice to get to know him a little better. To make him feel at home, too."
Sully abruptly stood up and cleared his plate and coffee cup, heading to the kitchen.
Michaela watched him go, then took a deep breath. The children needed to know what was going on, and all this hedging around was only delaying it. "Children, I need to tell you something important. Can you listen carefully to Mama?"
Katie laid down her utensils. "What?"
"I recently found out William has the same last name as us," Michaela explained unsteadily. "His name is William Sully."
"But your last name isn't Sully, Mama," Red Eagle pointed out. "It's Quinn."
Michaela glanced at him a moment. The children didn't seem to understand what she was trying to tell them.
"Sweethearts, William's related to us," she went on. "He's your papa's father. He's your grandfather."
Post your comments on the story here | View other's comments