"What'd Dorothy have to say?" Sully asked absently, pulling off his shirt and dropping it at the end of the bed.
Michaela slowly raised her eyes from the letter. She had poured over it repeatedly all that evening while Sully was looking after the children and finishing the last of the chores. Behind the privacy of the sheets hung around their bed, she had even shed a few desperate tears. Her best friend needed her and yet here she was in the middle of the forests and mountains of California.
"Actually, we need to talk about that," she began cautiously.
He pulled back the sheets on his side of the bed and slipped under them with an exhausted sigh. "Somethin' wrong?"
"Well, I'm not certain," she began, folding the letter and sliding it back in the envelope. "She...she felt something several weeks ago that seemed similar to...to what she felt before. She went to see Simon at the clinic and apparently, he was quite cold with her. She ended up leaving before he could fully examine her. I can just imagine how uncomfortable that must have been. Some doctors can be so insensitive to...to a woman's needs." She turned her head to face him. "Sully, I know this is sudden but I'm thinking perhaps I should-" She paused, eyeing his face. His eyes were closed and he was slowly breathing. "Sully?" she whispered.
He let out a soft sigh and slid his arm around her waist. "Hmm?"
She gave his cheek a tender kiss. "Nothing. We'll talk about it another time."
He shifted to his side and wrapped his arms around her back. "I ever tell ya I think women are amazin', Michaela? 'Cause if I didn't think it before I do now."
"Women in general?" she questioned wryly. "Or did you have someone specific in mind?"
"Maybe somebody specific," he replied.
She smiled, threading her fingers with his. "Goodnight, Sully."
He cuddled her closer and let out another tired sigh. "'Night, Michaela."
* * *
He pulled back the sheets and stood up, crossing the room. Michaela was hovering over the fireplace, dressed with her hair pulled back, stirring the pot of grits. She looked up with a cheerful smile. "There you are. If you sleep any longer you're going to be late for work."
He stretched his arms in front of him and slowly took a seat at the table. "Work?"
"Yes. I feel much better," she replied, ladling the grits into a bowl and setting it in front of him. "I don't need you to stay home another day. Besides, I'm sure everyone misses you at work."
He scrutinized her face, pleased to see the flush of the fever had all but disappeared and the tenderness around her nostrils was quickly fading. More importantly, the wide grin he had fallen in love with was all across her lips, a sure sign she was truly back to her old self. "As long as you don't need me," he replied.
"We'll be fine now," she said, dishing him up a plate of fried apples and potatoes and setting it beside his bowl.
"Glad to see you're better," he added, drawing her down to his level and giving her a kiss. "I was gettin' worried there."
She took a seat beside him. "Oh, it was nothing. I knew it wouldn't last long."
"I meant worried for the kids," he said with a chuckle. "Not sure if they could put up with me for another day."
She patted his arm. "Well, thank you for staying home like you did. It was a real help."
He nodded, digging his spoon into the grits and taking a large bite.
She watched him silently for a moment, then slowly drew in her breath. "Sully? Could we talk about Dorothy's letter now?"
"Sure," he said, picking up his napkin and pressing it to his mouth. "What about it?"
She folded her hands on the table. "She has me very concerned. I was awake for a long time last night thinking. You know that she, I...well, I found it necessary to operate when I felt something suspicious in her breast."
Sully nodded, glancing back at the fireplace. "It was the right thing to do. Ya got some coffee on?"
"Oh, of course. I'm sorry," she replied, picking up his teacup and walking over to the fire. "Just because it happened before doesn't mean it can never happen again," she went on cautiously, pouring coffee into the cup. "After her surgery, I instructed her to carefully examine herself often, in the event there should be a reoccurrence. In the other breast, that is. It's actually something all women should probably do. And now, she's told me she felt something. Another growth."
"Not sure I see where you're goin' with all this," he said, taking the cup from her and blowing on the coffee.
"It could be back," she said softly. "In her other breast."
He slowly sipped at the coffee, digesting her words.
"On the other hand, I suppose it might be anything," she said, sitting back down. "A cyst or some other benign growth."
"Well, we'll be thinkin' about her," Sully replied.
She shook her head. "I have to do more than that."
He eyed her warily. "What do ya mean?"
She took a deep breath. "I want to go see her. I want to go home."
He rested his cup on the table, stunned. "What?"
"It's the only choice I have," she began. "She's frightened. She doesn't know where to turn."
"Why can't she go see Doc Willard?"
"She did," she replied. "But he was very unfeeling. She was embarrassed. Not only that, but he's young, inexperienced. For that matter, so is Andrew. As much as I have faith in him, I've seen this before and I know what to do. Dorothy needs me. She trusts me."
"You ain't goin' all the way back there, not in the middle of winter," he said. "That's just foolish."
She stood up, pursing her lips. "I wasn't under the impression I needed your permission."
He sighed. "Michaela, I know you're scared for her. But goin' all the way to Colorado? Ya gotta think about this. What about the kids? The baby?"
"I have thought about it," Michaela said, glancing at the cots guiltily where the children were sleeping soundly. "I'll miss them so much, but they'll be fine here. You can still work. Brian's very responsible and he can manage during the day. As for Jack, I would take him with me. He still wants to nurse occasionally and I don't think I could leave him like this. He's quite little."
"Michaela, all of us need ya," he said desperately. "Maybe I took all that ya do for granted before and I'm sorry about that...but stayin' home like this these past few days, I see now what hard work it is."
"You did fine," she said. "You'll be all right."
"And ya got friends here that need ya," he went on. "How's Faye gonna take this? She depends on ya."
"I'll talk with her," she said weakly. "She'll understand. Besides, I think her spirits have been improving."
"But more than all that...we love you," he murmured, grasping her hand and holding it tightly in his. "I love you, Michaela. I'd worry about ya travelin' that far this time of year."
"I'll be fine, Sully," she replied, her eyes welling with tears at his heartfelt words.
"Did Dorothy ask ya to come?" he demanded briskly, releasing her hand.
She hesitated. "Well, no. Not outright. She would never ask me to do that."
He raised his arms in frustration. "Then how do ya know she even wants ya there? I saw how she was last time this happened. She didn't want help."
"She wants me to come," Michaela insisted. "I can see it all throughout her letter. I understand Faye's not feeling her best right now either, but Dorothy's my closest friend. That hasn't changed. She could be dying and I can't just sit here, Sully, God knows how many miles apart from her, and simply think about it."
"Faye's got nobody else to help, but Dorothy's got two perfectly good doctors right there," he said, standing up and crossing his arms. "Maybe you were lookin' for an excuse to leave," he added quietly. "Maybe you were waitin' for somethin' like this."
She swallowed hard. "All I know is our friend, my best friend needs me to be with her." A small tear slipped down her cheek. "It could be cancer again, Sully. And unfortunately, this isn't something we can sit on for a long time. If I'm going to go, I have to go now."
He pushed his chair in forcefully, avoiding her eyes.
"Sully, please don't," she said, swiping away at another tear. "I don't want to do this to you. I don't. But it's Dorothy."
He crossed the room and grabbed his jacket off the hook. "I gotta get to work."
"Sully, I'm sorry," she whispered.
"When ya leavin'?" he asked unsteadily.
"Early tomorrow morning. I'll catch the first stage in Fresno to San Francisco."
He nodded. "I'll ride with ya."
"You don't have to," she blurted.
"It's no trouble," he murmured, slipped on his jacket and opening the door.
"Have a good day," she called quietly as he shut the door firmly after him.
* * *
"Maybe we could try, Ma," he suggested. "I could be their teacher while you're gone. It might be fun."
She smiled, surprised. "Well, if you want to. Perhaps you could help them with their reading and arithmetic for an hour or two every few days."
"Sure. We'll take it slow," he said cheerfully.
"Brian, I can't tell you how much I appreciate all you're doing," Michaela said. "I want you to realize I feel very comfortable knowing you'll be here with the children each day. I'm going to miss all of you so much, but I can leave Byron and Katie here and know that they'll be safe."
"I don't want ya to go, Ma," he replied quietly. "But if this is what ya gotta do...then ya don't have to worry about things here."
"I'm so proud of you," she murmured, clasping his hand.
He shrugged. "Katie and B., they're my little sister and brother. I'd...I'd do anythin' for them. Lookin' after 'em for a little bit is nothin'."
Michaela slowly drew in her breath. "I'm sorry about what happened with Ethan, Brian. I truly am. I know it's been on your mind."
He held her gaze, nodding. "It's all right. Me and Pa talked about it. Everything's fine now."
"Oh, good. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Michaela asked.
He smiled. "No. There's nothin' more that needs to be said. Except...I'm sorry I talked back about it. Ya've always wanted what's best for me. I know that."
She gave him a gentle hug. "That's all right. I understand. And I'm glad to hear you've worked things out."
"You should start packin'," he said. "Tomorrow's gonna be here before ya know it."
"Let's call the children in first," Michaela said, standing up and opening the door. "They should come inside and warm up." She glanced around the clearing, alarm quickly sending her heart racing. She had specifically told the children to play in front of the cabin. Now here they were both missing.
"Byron? Katie!" she shouted.
Brian grabbed their coats and quickly joined her outside.
"Brian, they're gone," she said, taking her jacket. "Both of them."
"I see their tracks in the snow," he said, pointing at the ground and leading her across the clearing. "Probably just wandered into the woods a little."
Hurriedly, Michaela and Brian followed the children's footprints down one of the paths through the woods. Within a few minutes they came across them, hunched around something on the ground, Jim and Luke sitting beside them.
Immense relief quickly turned to confusion for Michaela. "Byron, Katie! What are you doing?"
"Mama!" Katie exclaimed, leaping to her feet and standing in front of whatever it was the children were focused on.
"Hey, Mama. How are you?" Byron blurted, whisking a bottle of paste behind his back.
"How's everythin', Miz Sully?" Luke added, clearing his throat.
Michaela eyed the four of them skeptically. "I didn't realize you've been sneaking off to play with each other."
"Oh, no, ma'am. We don't," Jim said, brushing off his gloved hands and standing up. "Well, only today we did. Ya see, they asked for our help. We just happened to have some paste and knew where the best pine cones are-"
Luke gave him a firm pinch on his arm. "Hush up."
"Pine cones? What are you hiding?" Michaela asked. "What have you been up to out here?"
"We can't tell ya that, ma'am," Luke said.
"Afraid not," Jim added.
"Not until the party at Faye's when we give it to ya," Byron said decisively.
"Byron," Jim groaned. "Go on and spoil it why don't ya?"
"Give her what?" Brian asked curiously, stepping forward. "What do ya have there?"
Luke sighed. "Seein' as Byron just about ruined it, we might as well show ya." He turned around and picked up a picture frame off the ground, slowly handing it over to Michaela.
"It's a present we made," Katie said quietly. "'Cause you're going away. Jim and Luke helped us."
Michaela took the frame, astonished. Somehow, the children had removed from her trunk the most recent family photograph she and Sully had taken in San Francisco. With Jim and Luke's help, they had pieced together a frame and mounted the photograph. Then, they had decorated the frame with a variety of sticky, fragrant pinecones they had gathered from the forest floor.
"You can remember us, Mama," Byron spoke up softly. "And you can smell the pinecones and remember Yosemite, too."
Brian looked over his mother's shoulder, smiling. "That's great. It looks great."
Michaela swallowed tearfully. "You all made this for ... for me? Oh ... it's wonderful. Thank you."
Luke nodded, stepping back. "We'll go home now, ma'am. Hope ya have a good trip out there."
"Jim! Luke!" Carrie shouted, hurrying over to the group, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the cold. "Boys! What're ya doin' all the way out here?" She grabbed their arms, giving them a gentle shake. "How many times have I told ya you are not to take off like this! After walkin' all this way I don't got any more muscle in me to wear you two out like I should!"
"Carrie, wait," Michaela interjected, clutching the photograph to her chest. "Carrie."
Carrie paused, slowly meeting her eyes.
"They were helping my children make me a going-away present," Michaela explained, showing her the photograph.
Carrie stared at the elaborate frame. "Land sakes, the four of them made that? It's...it's beautiful."
"We just lent 'em our paste, that's all," Luke said. "They came up with the idea."
"Luke helped us nail the frame together and Jim showed us how to sand it," Byron said.
"Sounds like it was real teamwork," Brian remarked, patting Katie's back approvingly.
Michaela took a deep breath as she thought about Sully's suggestion to talk to Carrie. Especially now that she would be leaving Byron and Katie behind in Yosemite for a while, the children could really use some playmates. And deep down, she knew Luke and Jim were good at heart, no matter how mischievous they could be at times. "Carrie? Perhaps your children would like to come visit mine sometime," she began. "That is, when Sully or Brian are around."
Carrie drew the boys to her side, eyeing Michaela cautiously. "Well...I don't know."
"I was thinkin' I could take the four of them ice fishin' sometime," Brian said.
"Yeah!" Jim exclaimed. "That'd be fun!"
"They do like to fish," Carrie said quietly. "I'll...I'll talk it over with Thaddeus." She glanced down at the boys. "But I don't think he'll mind."
Michaela nodded. "Good."
"Well, we best get back," she said awkwardly. "Ya'll comin' out to Faye's tonight?"
"Yes, we are," Michaela replied.
"Then we'll see ya then," Carrie said, spinning around and leading Jim and Luke back down the path.
Brian sat beside Kirk with his harmonica, struggling to keep up with him and watching as everyone else danced in front of them. Faye stood next to Kirk and rocked Danielle in time with the beat. Jim and Luke were taking turns dancing with Katie, spinning her or lifting her off her feet, sending the little girl into fits of giggles. Carrie and Thaddeus swung around the small room quite skillfully, carrying out complicated turns and reels, while Michaela and Sully danced a little more modestly, Jack between them, the baby's eyes animated as he watched Kirk and listened to the reel.
"Up we go, Jack!" Sully shouted over the music, lifting the baby over his head and giving him a gentle shake.
"You're going to make him sick if you keep this up, Sully," Michaela said with a laugh, kissing the baby's head as Sully brought him back down to her level. "What is Papa doing to you, Jack?"
Jack screamed and pointed at Kirk, bursting into laughter and burying his head against Sully's shoulder.
Sully patted his back lovingly. "Ya like this music. Dancin's a lot of fun, ain't it?"
"Someone isn't dancing," Michaela remarked, nodding across the room at Byron. He was sitting on a bench, shyly watching everyone else as he clapped his hands off time with the beat.
"I think he's just waitin' for the right girl to ask," Sully replied, nudging Michaela's arm.
With a wide smile, Michaela crossed the room and held her hands out to Byron. "Will you dance with me, sweetheart?"
Byron stopped clapping and firmly shook his head.
"Please?" Michaela said. "We'll have a good time. Besides, I lost my partner to Jack."
"I can't, Mama. I don't know how," Byron said quietly.
"You don't have to know how," Michaela replied simply. "We'll just let the music take us where it may. Come on."
Reluctantly, he stood up, clasping her hands. "Nobody's gonna laugh at me?"
"Oh, sweetheart. No, not at you," Michaela said reassuringly. "Everyone's laughing but that's because this is fun. We'll take it easy, all right?" She placed his hand on her waist and led him in a simple circle pattern, increasing their speed as Byron became more comfortable. Soon he was giggling again, relieved to see no one else was looking at him. Finally, the tune ended, everyone fell into thunderous applause and collapsed exhausted on the benches and chairs. Byron bowed gracefully in front of Michaela.
Michaela laughed and curtsied. "Thank you, Byron. It was lovely dancing with you."
"Danielle sure does love her daddy's fiddle," Faye said, out of breath as she sat beside Kirk with the baby and gave her cheek a kiss. "She won't sleep at night until Kirk's played her a tune. Ain't that right, pumpkin?"
"I don't think I've heard anybody who can play as good as you, Kirk," Brian spoke up, sliding his harmonica into his pocket.
"Yes, you play wonderfully, Kirk," Michaela added, taking a seat and lifting Byron into her lap. "And so fast!"
"Why, thank you," Kirk said, pulling out a bandana from his pocket and swiping it across his perspiring brow. "I only wish you folks would come by more often. I love to see everybody dancin'."
"You know what we need?" Faye spoke up, patting the baby's back. "We need somebody who can sing, too. Kirk knows lots of good songs. Only I can't carry a tune for anythin'."
"Ma can sing!" Jim spoke up. "She sings real fine!"
"You do?" Faye blurted, glancing at Carrie. "Well, then sing us somethin'!"
"Oh, no. I couldn't," Carrie replied quickly.
"Come on, Carrie," Thaddeus encouraged. "Ya got a dandy voice. I don't hear it enough."
"Please, Ma?" Luke spoke up. "How 'bout Clementine? I like that one."
"I know it," Kirk said, bracing his fiddle beneath his chin and raising his bow. "I'll give ya a few bars."
"Well, all right," Carrie said shyly as Kirk began playing. "I'm gonna be a might bit rusty. I ain't sung in awhile. Let's see." She cleared her throat and took a deep breath as Kirk gave her a nod to begin. "'In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine, lived a miner, forty-niner, And his daughter, Clementine.'" She brought her hand to her lips and chuckled softly. "Oh, I must be terrible on the ears."
"No, it's real nice," Sully spoke up. "Sing the rest of it."
Reluctantly, Carrie took another deep breath and embarked on the chorus, her confidence growing. "'Oh, my darlin', oh, my darlin', Oh, my darlin' Clementine. You are lost an' gone forever, dreadful sorry, Clementine.'"
Sully stood up, gave Jack to Brian and took Michaela's hand, lifting her to her feet and into his embrace. "Dance with me."
"I'd love to," Michaela said, clutching his shoulder with her free hand as they waltzed slowly in front of the fire.
Kirk watched the couple with a grin, his fiddle and Carrie's full soprano voice filling the cabin with beautiful music.
"Light she was and like a fairy," Carrie sang on, folding her hands in her lap, "An' her shoes were number nine. Herrin' boxes without tosses, sandals were for Clementine."
"Everybody now," Kirk said as Faye waved her hand, encouraging the entire group to join in.
"Oh, my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin' Clementine," they sang. "You are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry, Clementine."
"Drove she ducklins to the water...every mornin', just at nine...." Carrie laughed and clasped her hands. "I plum forgot the rest of the words."
"That's all right," Kirk said as he continued with another verse on the fiddle. "I'll keep playin' and ya'll waltz for a spell."
Carrie rose to her feet delightedly and grabbed Thaddeus' arm.
"Oh, Carrie," he protested, slowly standing up. "You know I ain't no good at this one-two-three kinda thing. I'll just end up sadying around and crushin' your toes, darlin'."
Sully gave his friend a playful wink. "Let her lead you, Thaddeus. That's how I do it."
Michaela chuckled, drawing Sully closer. "You still step on my toes," she scolded teasingly. "But not as often."
"Aw, heck," Thaddeus muttered, wrapping his arm around Carrie's waist. "Let's go and get it over with."
The couples waltzed slowly around the room for the remainder of the song as Faye, Kirk and the children watched, all wearing contented smiles. Finally, Kirk finished the tune and lowered his fiddle to his lap.
"Thank you, Mrs. Donovan," he said, a twinkle in his eye.
Michaela shyly met Carrie's eyes. "You have a beautiful voice. Thank you for sharing it with us."
Carrie nodded awkwardly, stepping back and taking a seat. "Glad I could put it to good use."
Sully put his arm around Michaela and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. She and Carrie were nowhere near ready to apologize to each other, but he was glad to see they had shared a moment of commonality. He knew forgiving each other and letting things lie wasn't going to be easy for them, but little steps one at a time was a good way to go about it.
"We all enjoyed it," Sully added. "But I s'pose we better start headin' home, Michaela."
"Us, too," Thaddeus said, rising from his chair.
"It was a lovely evening," Michaela said, tickling Danielle's cheek. "I'm glad you invited us."
"Oh, thanks for comin', Dr. Mike," Faye said. "We always have a grand ole time when Kirk gets out his fiddle!"
"I don't think I've ever done so much spinnin' around," Carrie added with a chuckle. She glanced at Michaela. "It sure was a nice time with everybody out here dancin'."
Michaela smiled. "Yes. It certainly was."
"Shh, it's all right," Michaela consoled, handing Faye a handkerchief as tears fell down the girl's cheeks. "You're doing so much better, Faye. Each day is going to grow easier for you."
Faye nodded, blowing her nose. "I'm sorry. I just get so weepy sometimes, Dr. Mike. I can't help it."
"That's all right. That's perfectly normal," Michaela said, gently rubbing her back. "Don't be afraid to ask for help. You're welcome to stay at our cabin with Brian and the children when Kirk is at work, and Brian and Sully said whatever you need, just let them know."
"It ain't that so much," Faye said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I'm gonna miss ya is all. Ya helped me so much."
Michaela felt a heavy lump forming in her throat. She didn't want to leave Faye, but she had no choice. "You give me far too much credit. You've been very brave and determined throughout everything. I know you're going to come through this just fine. You already are."
"Oh," Faye whimpered, hugging Michaela tight. "Don't fret about me. You're right. I am doin' better. Just take care of yourself now, ya hear?"
Kirk stepped forward, clasping Michaela's arm and giving her cheek a quick kiss. "Bye, Dr. Mike. Hope everything works out."
Michaela drew in her breath shakily and slowly pulled back. "Goodbye."
Michaela stepped down from the porch as Faye's tears continued, and walked to the wagon, determined to remain strong. Faye was going to be fine, Michaela was certain.
Sully stood next to the wagon, the baby closing his eyes tiredly over his shoulder. Michaela clasped Sully's hand for balance and climbed onto the seat, pursing her lips as Brian stood up from the back of the wagon and grasped her shoulder in understanding.
"Don't worry, Ma," he murmured. "I'll come out here while you're gone and help keep her company."
"Thank you, Brian," Michaela replied, reaching up to squeeze his hand. "That's very thoughtful of you."
Sully waved to the Donovans as their wagon pulled away and then handed Jack up to Michaela. "Looks like somebody's ready for bed," he remarked, caressing the baby's fair hair.
Michaela smiled half-heartedly and kissed Jack's head as Thaddeus suddenly pulled their wagon to a sudden stop and Carrie quickly climbed down.
Sully glanced at Michaela in surprise and climbed up beside her as Carrie rushed back to them.
"Wait," Carrie called. "Wait, Mrs. Sully." She approached the wagon at a slower pace and reached her hand up. "Have a good trip."
Michaela slowly took her hand, bewildered.
Carrie cleared her throat, clasping her shawl together at her throat. "If ya ever find yourself gone astray, ya can always look to the Good Book. The Almighty won't turn his back on ya. That much I know for sure."
Michaela squeezed her hand, nodding. "Thank you, Carrie."
Sully smiled and put his arm around Michaela, picking up the reins with his free hand. "Ready?"
"Yes," Michaela replied, slowly releasing Carrie's hand. "Now I am."
Heart heavy, he strolled over to the bed, weakly clutching the post.
Michaela looked up hesitantly, placing a nightgown in the carpetbag and clasping it together. "I'm finished."
"Good," he murmured, not knowing what else to say.
"We'll have to be up quite early," she remarked, placing the carpetbag on the floor at the foot of the bed.
"Around four o'clock."
"I had a long talk with Brian," she added. "I think he's going to be fine here with the children each day. They'll do a little schoolwork and help each other with the chores."
"If anybody can make it work Brian can," he said.
She sunk down on the bed, dropping her hands in her lap. "Sully, I know you're very upset with me. And if this is going to tear us apart then I've been thinking, well, then it's not worth it. Dorothy is very dear to me. But our marriage is what's most important. If you truly don't want me to go...then just say I can't."
He chuckled softly, breaking the awkwardness in the air. "Me tell you not to do somethin'?"
She shrugged. "I thought it might be easier that way."
He sat down beside her, gently putting his arm around her back. "You're right. I am upset. I think ya ain't seein' everythin' clearly. But maybe I ain't either."
She raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
He absently stared at her hands. "When you told me you were leavin'...I got to thinkin' so much about me-what you goin' away was gonna mean for me, how I was gonna take care of our family without ya...how much I was gonna miss ya-I didn't wanna hear why ya wanna leave in the first place." He raised his eyes and gently stroked her cheek. "'Cause Dorothy needs your help. When she needs ya, you're there, no matter how many miles between ya. If I was in her shoes, I'd want you for my best friend."
"Oh, Sully. You already have me," she whispered, shifting closer and taking his hand. "If I thought for a moment things wouldn't run smoothly here, I wouldn't go."
He nodded. "Then if this is what your heart says ya gotta do, I understand. I don't have to agree...but I understand."
"I don't know what my heart says," she whispered, dropping her head to his shoulder. "It's here and it's in Colorado. Perhaps even a little is still in Boston. It's with you, our children, Faye, Dorothy. I don't know how to begin sorting out all that I've been feeling lately."
He took a deep breath, grasping her shoulder. "Then maybe gettin' away for a little bit will be good for ya."
She shifted to face him, drawing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. "I know I want to be your wife. But what that means was called into question when you first told me about Yosemite."
"Go home," he whispered. "Give yourself some time."
She smoothed back his hair lovingly. "You've always stood back and let me make my own decisions. I appreciate that so much."
"Michaela, I know ya haven't been yourself here," he began. "It's my fault I never had us talk about it until maybe it was too late. If that means you gotta go back now to figure things out, then that's the way it's gotta be. One thing I'm sure of, the Michaela I know ain't happy unless she's makin' her own decisions." He drew her lips back to his. "And you know that's always been what I wanted the most. For you to be happy."
Eyes filling with tears, she wrapped her arms around his neck and slowly reclined to the mattress, taking him with her. "You do make me so happy, Sully," she said. "This isn't about you. This isn't because anything has changed between us."
"I don't know. I s'pose things are always changin'," he murmured, gazing into her eyes. "Nothin' ever stays the same, I've learned that."
"I suppose that's true."
He brought his hand to her cheek, pressing his thumb to her lips as he worked his other hand beneath her skirt and up her thigh. "Shh. Let's not talk anymore."
She kissed his thumb and slowly brought her hands up to his shirt buttons, unfastening them and nudging the shirt over his shoulders. "I'll miss you so very much."
"Shh," he replied, claiming her lips once more. "Ya ain't gone just yet. We still got now."
Darkness continued to prevail as Sully waited by the door, Michaela's carpetbag and medical bag at his feet and Jack sound asleep in his arms. Michaela straightened her traveling hat and cape in front of her hand mirror one last time before tucking the mirror away in her trunk and crossing the room to Katie's cot.
"Be a good girl for Papa," she whispered, stooping down and stroking her hair. "I'll miss you." She gave her cheek a few tender kisses and watched her sleep for a moment before standing up.
"We gotta go, Michaela," Sully spoke up quietly. "Don't wanna be late."
"I know. Just one more minute," she whispered, tucking the covers snug up to the little girl's chin and then turning to Byron, smoothing back his hair and touching her lips to his brow.
The little boy sighed tiredly and opened his eyes.
Michaela pressed her finger to her lips. "Shh. I have to go now, sweetheart, all right?"
He blinked up at her sleepily for a moment, gathering his senses. "To Colorado?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"No. Stay here," he said hoarsely.
Michaela clasped his hand warmly in hers. "I have to help a friend. I have to go be a doctor again."
"Who's gonna make me breakfast?" Byron questioned. "And teach me? I'm just starting to learn real good, Mama."
"We talked about this, Byron," Michaela said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Papa and Brian will. Even Faye said she'll stop by."
"I want you to," he insisted, grasping her blouse sleeve. "You're the best cook ever. And teacher."
She chuckled. "That's very sweet, but I know a lie when I see one."
"And you'll miss Yosemite," he went on. "You'll miss your bed here."
Michaela gave his nose a soft kiss. "I'll miss you. I'll wire you and you wire me, all right? Papa will help you write me something. I need to go."
Byron swallowed hard, nodding. "Mama, when ya coming home? When ya coming back to me, Mama?"
Michaela felt tears she hadn't intended to shed slip down her cheeks. She gave him a tight hug, caressing his hair. "I don't know yet, sweetheart. But I'll think of you every day, I promise. I know you'll be on your best behavior in the meantime. Don't make things any more difficult for your papa."
"I'll be good," he said, locking his hands around her neck. "I won't hit Katie or take any more birds."
"I'm happy to hear that. It's still very early. Go back to sleep, all right?" She tucked the covers around him and slowly stood up, smoothing back his hair lovingly as he reluctantly closed his eyes.
She swiped hastily at her tears, then crossed the room to Sully. He squeezed her shoulder sympathetically.
"Let's go," she murmured, stepping outside to the wagon.
Brian stood by the wagon, patting the neck of their horse. "Ready, Ma? I got the wagon all hitched."
"Thank you," she said, watching as Sully put her bags in the back and climbed up onto the seat with Jack.
She turned back to Brian as he removed his cowboy hat and stepped forward, giving her a hug.
"Good luck," he said simply.
She closed her eyes and held him warmly. She knew Brian would be taking over a tremendous responsibility while she was gone, but the young man had accepted without complaint. He even seemed to be looking forward to being in charge of everything for a little while. She would never have been able to leave without Brian there to look after Byron and Katie and watch the cabin, and she felt immensely grateful for everything he was doing for her. "I love you very much, Brian," she whispered.
He smiled, giving her cheek a sweet kiss. "I know, Ma. Best get started. Don't miss your stage." He held her hand as she climbed up onto the seat, taking Jack from Sully as he grasped the reins.
"I'll be back this afternoon," Sully spoke up.
"All right, Pa. Don't worry about things here," Brian said, putting his hat back on his head and waving as the wagon pulled away.
* * *
"Thank you," she murmured, the baby in one arm and her carpetbag and medical bag tucked under the other.
"Let me get this for ya," he replied, taking her carpetbag and handing it up to the driver loading the luggage. He turned back to Michaela and led her a few paces away from the stage. "All set?"
"Yes, I think so," she replied, weakly clutching her medical bag and an outdated copy of Fresno's gazette Sully had bought her for the ride.
Sully caressed Jack's head and pressed his lips to the baby's soft cheek. "Bye, Jack. Look after your ma for us."
Michaela smiled faintly. "I'll be fine."
"You'll send our best to everybody?" he went on, stroking the baby's hair. "Especially Dorothy."
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Kiss the children for me each night."
"I will," he said.
"...I love you," she whispered.
He sighed, gently rocking her. "I love you, too. Wire us when ya get there, all right?"
She pulled back and gave his lips a small kiss. "The moment I arrive."
Sully walked her back to the stage and gave her a hand inside next to a handful of other passengers, securing the door tight after her. "Have a safe trip," he called, stepping back.
She clutched the windowsill and slowly raised her arm, giving him a small wave with her gloved hand. "Goodbye," she called.
He waved back, pursing his lips as the driver gave the team several firm slaps with the reins, shouting and griping at them. He watched as Michaela's hand disappeared back inside and the coach traveled down the main street of the small town and to the open road, increasing its pace.
"I'll miss ya," Sully whispered, folding his arms and gazing at the dusty road as the rumbling coach disappeared behind a thick bend of trees.
* * *
She slowly raised her eyes as the steam from the train cleared and the town came into view, bustling with wagons, riders and children returning from school. She gazed down the street. "Shh, Jack. It's all right," she whispered, rubbing his back. "We're home."
"Here you are, ma'am," the porter said, placing her bags at her feet.
"Thank you," she said, picking them up and stepping up onto the platform.
Horace straightened from his position over the telegraph and hurried out of the office. "Dr. Mike?" he shouted.
Michaela quickly turned and brightened into a smile. "Horace."
He rushed over to her, mouth agape. "Dr. Mike, what're ya doing here?"
Michaela glanced back at the town reverently. "I'm here for a visit."
"Did Sully come, too?" he asked. "The children?"
"No. Just Jack and me," she explained.
"This can't be Jack," Horace said with a chuckle, gently pressing his hand to the baby's head. "Look how big he is."
"He's also quite cranky right now," Michaela said wryly. "We'll have to talk later, Horace. I think the first thing I'm going to do is take him over to the clinic so he can have a nap."
"The clinic?" Horace blurted. "Ya better have an appointment first."
"An appointment?" Michaela questioned. "What do you mean?"
"You'll find out," Horace replied, folding his arms.
* * *
"By appointment only?" Michaela said aloud, pulling down the paper and opening the door. "Dr. Willard?"
The young man was sitting at her desk, deeply focused on a medical journal, a pencil pressed to his chin. "Yes?" he said with a sigh.
Michaela glanced around the room, relieved to see it had remained roughly the same as she had left it. Simon had, however, surrounded the examination table with several layers of screens and emptied out most of the medicines in her cabinets. Michaela decided there would be plenty of time to ask the young man why. "It's Dr. Mike," she said, walking up to the desk. "Do I need an appointment, too?"
Simon leaped to his feet, stunned. "Dr. Quinn! No, of course not."
"I came home to see a friend," Michaela explained. "You can sit back down. It's all right."
"Oh, no. You sit," he said, pulling out the chair and eyeing her traveling dress. "Did you just step off the train? You must be quite tired."
"I'm all right," she said, handing him the paper. "I would like to know what this is, however."
He glanced at the paper. "Why, these are my hours."
"Hours?" she blurted, slowly sinking into her chair.
He folded his hands awkwardly. "Dr. Quinn, I don't mean to offend you but...but the way you ran this place was quite chaotic. I made a few simple, and if you don't mind my saying, quite obvious improvements, and now everything proceeds like clockwork."
"What sort of improvements?" Michaela questioned cautiously.
He cleared his throat. "Well, for one thing, your patients used to completely ignore that charming 'ring for doctor' sign you have posted out there. But it only took a few weeks to train them to use it. I simply didn't answer the door until they rang."
"Train them?" Michaela echoed with a wry smile.
"And this practice of allowing patients to just walk on in as they please," he went on. "Entirely inefficient."
"But what about emergencies?" Michaela asked, rubbing Jack's back as he began to whimper again. "You can't expect everyone to have an appointment."
"Naturally, emergencies take precedence," he replied.
"We can discuss this later," she said, kissing Jack's head. "I'd like to put the baby down for a nap upstairs while I see my friend."
"In one of the recovery rooms?" he blurted. "You can't."
She glanced around the empty room. "I don't see any patients. I don't think you'll need it."
"Well, I can't watch him," he said, eyeing Jack uncomfortably.
"You don't have to watch him," she said, crossing the room for the door to the stairs. "He'll be sleeping. But if you could just listen for him that would be quite helpful."
"Dr. Quinn, I am no pediatrician," he protested, following her to the door. "I know very little about how to look after infants."
"I'm not asking you to adopt him permanently, Dr. Willard," Michaela said with a chuckle, opening the door. "I promise I'll come back within the hour."
He shook his head firmly. "I'm sorry but I can't be responsible for him. I'm not a nanny. I'm a doctor trying to run a medical practice here."
Michaela paused. "All right. I understand. I suppose I can take him with me."
"If you wouldn't mind," he said, gesturing outside.
"Good day, Dr. Willard," she said awkwardly, stepping out onto the porch.
"Good day," he replied, shutting the door after her.
* * *
Dorothy put the last letter in place and straightened, wiping her hands on her ink-spotted apron. Her face was etched with worry and her usual cheery smile was gone. Michaela knew there was much on her friend's mind and plenty they would need to talk about.
She stepped away from the window and knocked on the open door, resting Jack over her shoulder as he dozed. "Hello, Dorothy," she called quietly.
Dorothy's expression of concern quickly altered to sheer disbelief. She glanced between Michaela and Jack, speechless for a brief moment. "Michaela!" she finally gasped. "Michaela! What are you doin'?!"
"I came to see you," Michaela said weakly, stepping into the room.
"Ya came to see me?" Dorothy blurted. "Why?"
"Your letter. I received your letter and I just had to come."
Dorothy shook her head, overwhelmed. "Oh, Michaela! You came all the way back here! Oh, you shouldn't have done this. What were you thinkin'?"
"I had to," Michaela said simply. "Please, don't be angry with me."
"I'm not angry," Dorothy murmured. "I'm just...just surprised." She stepped forward and hugged her friend tightly, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I can't believe you're here. I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you," Michaela replied, suddenly falling into tears of her own. "Oh, how I've missed you."
Dorothy pulled back with a chuckle, swiping at her tears and gazing at the baby fondly. "Is this Jack? He was so tiny when you left! What happened?"
"He'll be ten months old tomorrow," Michaela said, smiling proudly and carefully handing her the sleeping baby. "He's not very happy with me right now. All he wants is a nap."
Dorothy pressed his head to her shoulder, rocking him from side to side. "He looks just like you and Sully, Michaela. Oh, he's so beautiful," She glanced out the door at the empty porch. "Where is Sully?"
"He's...he's not here," Michaela explained uncomfortably. "He and the children are still in Yosemite."
"You and the baby came out here by yourselves? Sully was all right with that?" Dorothy questioned, handing Jack back to her as he began crying softly again.
Michaela cleared her throat, briefly lowering her eyes. "How are you doing?"
Dorothy spun around, quickly removing her apron and hanging it on a hook on the wall. "They'll be plenty of time for that later. Let's get you over to the café and have Grace fix you up something to eat. Everybody's gonna want to see you!"
* * *
Robert E. sat the highchair down beside Michaela and brushed his hands off. "There ya are, Dr. Mike."
Word had quickly spread that Michaela was back for a visit. Several of the townsfolk had waited at a long table in the café for her arrival, leaving the seat on the end open for her. Now they were digging into Grace's tasty fried chicken, chatting, laughing and catching Michaela up on everything she had missed.
"Thank you, Robert E.," Michaela said, looking up from her plate of food with a smile. "It's just the right size for Jack."
"Here we go, pumpkin," Grace said, lifting the baby into the chair. She gently pinched his cheeks and smiled wide, giving him a wet kiss. "Oh, you like it, don't ya? Miz Grace takes good care of ya at her café."
"Grace, you gonna fuss over that baby all day or pour me some more coffee?" Loren grumbled from his seat.
Grace grimaced, ignoring Loren's remark and picking up a plate of cookies. "Now these are for you, Jack," she said, placing several on his tray as he looked up at her, mouth slightly agape. "You eat 'em up now."
"What're ya tryin' to do, Grace? Rot the only tooth he's got?" Hank demanded, propping his foot up on the bench next to Loren and puffing on a cigar.
"Grace, babies don't like to be fretted over like that," Jake added, taking a seat near Hank. "It'll spoil him."
"It won't spoil him. He's nothin' but an angel," she protested. "Unlike some people I know," she added dryly, glancing at the men with a smirk.
"Sit down, Grace," Michaela encouraged, nodding at the chair beside Dorothy. "Eat with us."
"Ya gotta tell us all about Yosemite, Dr. Mike," Grace replied, strolling over to the chair and sinking into it.
"Yes, tell us, Michaela," Dorothy encouraged as even more townsfolk began to saunter over, curious to hear. "Brian makes it sound just beautiful in his articles."
"It is," Michaela said whimsically. "Especially now that the snows have fallen. Everything is covered in a pearly white. In the fall, we took a hike to the top of a mountain and looked down on the valley below. I've never seen so many brilliant colors. It was wonderful. We see all kinds of animals. Beaver, white-tailed deer, antelope, even some bears."
"Seems like it's a real fine place to be," Jake remarked.
Michaela hesitated. "Well, yes. I suppose. It's quite cold there right now. We can't really go outside that much. The children and I stay in the cabin most of the day. It's so far from everything and it's also getting a little crowded with all of us in one room."
"Actually sounds kinda nice there," the Reverend spoke up, resting his hands atop his walking stick. "Must be real quiet with nobody around."
"Yes, that's true," she said, focusing on her plate and stirring her mashed potatoes. She forced a smile and looked back up, glancing around the table. "Well, tell me how everything is here. How is the clinic? Dr. Willard seemed to have everything under control."
"Real under control," Jake said.
"He's taking care of all your needs, isn't he?" she asked. "I hope his hours aren't too constraining."
"Those ain't so bad, but he's a little...impersonal, that's all," Dorothy explained.
"He's very young," the Reverend remarked. "And, well...sure of himself."
"He don't like me and Robert E.," Grace said quietly. "I could tell that right off."
"Oh, Grace. I'm sorry," Michaela said, patting her hand.
"Face it, Grace. He don't like any of us," Hank muttered. "Good thing I remembered where ya kept your Injun stuff, Michaela, or I'd never get my hands on those nettles I needed for my hay fever." He winked. "All cleared up now."
Loren crossed his arms. "Oh, it ain't that he don't know what he's doin', Dr. Mike. It's just...well, he ain't you."
"We miss ya, Dr. Mike," Jake said softly.
"Two more months and then you'll be home for good," Dorothy said optimistically. "Try not to worry about things here. We're all right."
"Sure. We're fine," Grace added. "Now eat, Dr. Mike! I know you've been missin' my food!"
Michaela chuckled, nodding. "Yes, Grace. We all have!"
* * *
"Look, Jack," she whispered. "It's home."
She lifted her skirts and ascended the steps, opening the door. Aside from the usual vase of flowers she always used to have on the dining room table and a warm fire blazing in the fireplace, everything was in its place. Robert E. was doing an amazing job keeping it in order.
Jack looked around curiously, sucking on his fingers and letting out an inquiring moan.
"You don't even recognize it, do you?" she remarked, rubbing his back. "You were just three weeks old when we left. But this is our house. This is where we were going to raise you and your sister and brother." She strolled over to the mantel, glancing around the front room. "These walls have seen so much, Jack. So many things have happened here. We've made so many memories. Your papa built this for me. For our family." She burst into a grin, glancing at the stained glass in the door. "He carried me across the threshold the first day we moved in. And before we knew it Katie was here and we were bringing her home, and then Byron, and then you." She tickled his chin, sparking a delighted smile across his lips. "You were born here, sweetheart. Just like I wanted. I thought that was just the beginning of more fond memories in this place. I had no idea how quickly things would change."
Jack yawned tiredly and slowly dropped his head to her shoulder, curling up against her.
She kissed his head lovingly. "How did I ever leave here? ...How can I leave again?"
Jack giggled and obediently opened his mouth, swallowing the tasty applesauce and watching Grace's eyes expectantly.
"You're remarkable, Grace," Michaela remarked as she finished the last of her breakfast. "No one else can get him to eat."
Grace swiped up a spill from the baby's chin and smiled wide. "Oh, everybody eats for Miz Grace."
Michaela chuckled, nodding. "I suppose you're right." She looked up as Sarah Sheehan walked into the café, hands folded. Sarah immediately spotted Michaela and hurried over.
"Dr. Mike, it's true. You are back!" she exclaimed.
Michaela smiled. "It's good to see you, Sarah. Sit down."
The young woman reluctantly took a seat on the bench across from her. "Brian didn't come with ya...did he?"
Michaela shared a glance with Grace. "No. I'm afraid not," she replied.
Grace stood up, handing Michaela the bowl of applesauce. "I'll leave you two to talk," she said, picking up her pitcher of cider and strolling back to the kitchen area.
Sarah glanced at Jack with a reverent smile. "Oh, Dr. Mike. He shot up like a weed."
"That's what everyone keeps saying," Michaela said with a proud grin, giving Jack another bite of the applesauce.
"Brian's so lucky," she went on, patting the little boy's hand. "I never had a younger brother or sister to look up to me like they do him."
Michaela took a deep breath, searching the girl's eyes. "What happened between you two, Sarah?"
Sarah cleared her throat, keeping her eyes focused on Jack. "What do ya mean?"
"Brian told me about how you decided to call things off," she said. "I was sorry to hear that."
"You were?" she questioned. "I thought...."
"Brian missed you dreadfully. He would talk about you quite often. You made him more happy than I realized."
"He really talked about me, Dr. Mike?" she murmured, eyes brightening.
"All the time," Michaela replied, giving the baby another bite of the applesauce. "I'm afraid he was very hurt by the last letter you sent. But I'm sure you were only doing what you thought was best."
Sarah sighed, resting her hands on the table. "I don't know what I was doing, Dr. Mike. I s'pose I just got...got scared. Endin' everything just seemed like the only thing left to do."
"Scared of what?" Michaela questioned. "Scared of Brian?"
She chuckled, shaking her head. "No, not of Brian." She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts. "When you all left and Brian and me weren't spendin' time together every day like it always was before, it was...well, hard. The hardest thing I ever did. I thought we would be all right, we'd get through it writin' letters, but it just wasn't the same. By the time he was even gettin' what I wrote it was two or three weeks later." She swallowed hard. "I started to think maybe I wasn't ready for all this. Maybe I wasn't cut out for it. Maybe what we had...wasn't as powerful as I thought." Her eyes welled with tears. "This is all my fault, Dr. Mike. I promised Brian this wouldn't tear us apart. That we could do it. And then I just gave up on it."
Michaela reached across the table and patted her hand. "Well, you've been very far apart. Maintaining a close relationship is difficult when you can't even see each other." She took a deep breath. "Brian said your grades were suffering, that your mother was very concerned about you. I was worried, too."
"You were worried about me? Really?" Sarah asked, sniffling and looking up.
"Of course. I didn't want you to be unhappy any more than Brian did," Michaela replied. "Did breaking things off help? Do you feel better?"
"At first," Sarah admitted. "But now it's almost...almost worse. Sometimes I'm sure I did the right thing, other times I'm afraid if I try to talk to him, ask him for another chance...it'll be too late."
"It sounds like you need to give yourself some time to sort out your feelings," Michaela said, placing her napkin on the table and standing up. "I'll be in town for at least several more days. If you'd like to talk about anything else, I'll listen."
"Thanks, Dr. Mike," she said. "It helps talkin' to you. It's kinda...uncomfortable, sayin' all this to my own ma. I think she gets nervous I'm in over my head."
"I understand," Michaela replied, picking up Jack and giving his head a kiss. "All ready to go, sweetheart?"
Sarah stood up, straightening her skirts. "Would you like me to take him for ya this mornin'? I could stay with him here in the café."
Michaela eyed her hesitantly. "I don't know."
"Oh, we'd be all right," Sarah said, patting his back. "You can go see everybody, go to the clinic." She held her arms out. "Come here, Jack. Let's you and me lend Miz Grace a hand with cookin' up lunch."
"If you insist, Sarah," Michaela said, settling Jack in her arms. "This is very helpful. Thank you."
She smiled, rubbing the baby's back affably. "You're welcome. Anytime you need me to look after him while you're home, I'd be glad to."
"Come in," Dorothy called back. She was standing in front of her mirror, sticking the last few pins into her hair and patting it down. "Michaela! Good mornin'!"
"Good morning," she replied, walking into the room and shutting the door behind her.
"Did you have a good time yesterday?" Dorothy asked, watching her through the mirror. "Everybody was so surprised to see you home!"
"Yes, it was lovely to see everyone," she replied, placing her medical bag on the bed.
"Where's the baby?" Dorothy went on, voice etched with nervousness.
"Sarah's looking after him at the café," Michaela explained. "Could we talk about your letter now?"
Dorothy slowly turned from the mirror. "Well, I suppose so."
"I think performing an examination would be a good way to start," Michaela began, unclasping her bag.
Dorothy walked a few steps forward. "Michaela, wait."
"Dorothy, it's me," she replied. "I know it's a little awkward but I need to examine you before I can make any sort of diagnosis."
"I know. It ain't that," she said, slowly sitting down on the bed. "It's just, when I first felt...what I felt, about a month ago...I was sure it was back. But it seems like this past week, it's goin' down a little. Maybe even goin' away."
Michaela nodded pensively. "That would seem to indicate some sort of cyst. Although I hesitate to assume that so quickly. Is it all right if I take a look?"
Dorothy lowered her eyes, nodding quickly. "Do you want me to lie down?"
Michaela sat beside her, carefully unbuttoning her blouse and slipping her camisole strap over her shoulder. "Sitting up is better. This won't take long. Just try to relax." She carefully pressed her fingers to Dorothy's breast, fixing her brow and scrutinizing the firm swelling just above her lower ribs.
"Yes. I definitely feel something," Michaela began. "Is it painful?"
"No. Not one bit," Dorothy replied.
"And you said it's gone down," Michaela added, circling her fingers around the breast to feel for any other abnormalities.
"Yes. I'm sure it's gone done a whole lot," Dorothy said. "What is it, Michaela? Tell me. Is it cancer again?"
Michaela withdrew her hands, pulling Dorothy's camisole back up. "I'm not certain. Most tumors we see seem to form higher up on the breast, near the shoulder. That doesn't mean that this couldn't be an exception, however."
Dorothy buttoned her blouse, hands shaking ever so slightly. "So what now?"
Michaela folded her hands, letting out her breath. "Well, we should talk about operating again. Then we'd be certain if it is a tumor that we've removed it. Even if it isn't, operating is the only sure way to guarantee this won't happen again. In fact some doctors, when they find it necessary to remove one breast, remove the other as well as a precautionary measure."
"I don't know about that," Dorothy whispered. "It's...it's all I got left, Michaela."
Michaela clasped her shoulder comfortingly. "I know. I know this isn't easy. You're being asked to make the same difficult decision all over again."
"Like I said, I think it's goin' down," Dorothy said. "What if we...what if we watched it, for several days? See if I'm right?"
"Well, if we are going to operate, I'd like to do so right away," Michaela said. "I'm not very comfortable waiting around."
"How about a week?" Dorothy asked. "If there ain't any change by then...then you can go ahead and operate."
Michaela slowly nodded. "All right. I could make some measurements, keep a chart. If it is benign, then it may go down and even all but disappear. That shouldn't be happening if it's a tumor."
"Michaela, I'm so sorry you came all the way out here," Dorothy suddenly blurted. "I tried to go to Dr. Willard. I tried. I just couldn't go through with it. You're the only person I trust."
"It's all right," Michaela said, gently patting her back. "I wanted to come."
Dorothy took her in her arms, holding her tight. "I was hopin' you would. I knew you'd know exactly what to do. But I feel just terrible tearing you away from Sully and the children like this."
Michaela closed her eyes. "It's all right. They understand."
"I need you," Dorothy whispered. "This town needs you, Michaela."
Tears slipped down Michaela's cheeks. "I need all of you, too."
* * *
"It's gonna be a cold one tonight," he remarked, unfolding the quilts and laying each of them atop their blankets. "Ya might need these."
"When it's cold Mama always tucks the blankets around us real tight," Byron said, shifting down to his back.
"...All right," Sully replied, leaning over him, haphazardly pulling the blankets up to his chin and pushing the loose ends secure around him. "How's that?"
"Pretty good," Byron said.
"Me, too," Katie called, reaching her hand out for Sully. "Tuck me in tight."
Sully helped the little girl to her back and covered her snuggly. "Are ya all set?"
"I need a glass of water by my bed," Byron said. "Mama always brings me a glass of water in case I wake up and get thirsty."
Sully stood up. "A glass of water. Got it."
Brian looked up from his book in bed, glancing at Sully with a wry smirk as he crossed the room and poured water into a mug for the little boy.
Sully returned a moment later, setting the mug on the nightstand between the cots and sitting down on Byron's bed. "There's your water. Now can ya go to sleep?"
"Can I have one, too?" Katie spoke up. "I might get thirsty."
Sully sighed. "Kates, why didn't ya say somethin' while I was up?"
She shrugged. "I didn't think of it until now."
"Ya didn't think of it," he muttered. "Ya can share Byron's, how's that?"
"Eww, no," she protested, scrunching up her face. "I can't share with him. He's my brother."
"She can't share with me, Papa," Byron added in agreement.
Sully stood up, trudging back to the kitchen area. "All right. A glass of water for Katie."
Brian closed his book, tucking his hands beneath his head as Sully filled another mug. "Ya need some help, Pa?"
Sully walked back to the cots, handing Katie the mug and glancing at Brian. "I think I got it under control."
Brian grinned. "Don't say I didn't offer."
Sully sunk back onto Byron's cot. "Now ya must be all set. Goodnight, kids."
"Wait. We need a story," Byron said.
"A story? Ya want a story, too?" Sully blurted.
"Mama always tells us a story when we can't sleep," Byron went on. "Please?"
Sully rubbed his thighs, thinking a moment. "Let's see. The only stories I know are Cheyenne stories. A bear, náhkohe, was followin' a path, and along came a coyote, ó'kôhomeho, and told the bear to move aside, that this was his path."
"No, not about a bear," Katie spoke up. "We'll have bad dreams. Tell us a story about a princess, Papa."
"And a prince," Byron instructed.
"A prince and a princess?" Sully said, raising his eyebrows. "I think that's more your ma's line of work."
"Come on, Papa. Please?" Byron begged, grasping his hand.
Brian grinned, watching Sully with amusement. "Ya start out with 'once upon a time.'"
"Thanks, Brian," Sully said dryly. "All right. Once upon a time...."
Byron watched him eagerly. "Well? What happens?"
Sully glanced between the little boy and girl, clearing his throat. "Once upon a time there was a prince followin' a path, and a princess showed up and told him to move aside, that this was her path."
Katie wrinkled her brow, propping her head up on one hand.
"And the prince said no, this is my path," Sully went on.
"Then what?" Katie asked skeptically.
"Well, they got into a fight," Sully went on. "The princess was real stubborn and wouldn't move, and the prince was the same only probably even more stubborn."
"Princes and princesses don't fight, Papa," Byron chastised. "Are you makin' this up?"
"Oh, they fight. Trust me," Sully said. "So the two were standin' there, neither of them willin' to move for the other, and along comes a skunk."
"A skunk?" Katie exclaimed. "There's no skunks in princess stories."
"There is in this one," Sully replied. "The skunk says, 'this is my path,' and he turned around, lifted up his tail, and that settled it. The end."
Byron raised his eyebrows. "Is that it?"
Sully patted his leg. "Yep, that's it. Go to sleep now."
"Well, you'll do better next time, Papa," Byron told him reassuringly, hugging his stuffed puppy.
"Try to have a castle in it," Katie instructed. "And maybe some fairies."
"I'll try to remember that," Sully replied, standing up, tapping his finger to her nose playfully and giving her a warm hug. "'Night, Kates. Love ya."
"Kiss Mr. Bear goodnight," she told him, holding up her stuffed animal. "Kiss him, Papa. Kiss him."
Sully hesitated, letting out his breath in a soft sigh, and then quickly pecked the toy's head. "G'night, Mr. Bear," he said grudgingly. He turned to Byron, folding his arms. "Your puppy want a kiss, too?"
Byron giggled. "No, thanks."
Sully kneeled down, smoothing back his hair with a smile. "How 'bout you? You want one?" He tickled his chest. "I think ya want one!"
Byron giggled, pushing him away. "No. No!"
Sully grabbed his arms, held him still and pecked his cheek several times, prickling the little boy teasingly with his whiskers. Finally, Sully released his hold and gave him a gentle hug. "Don't tell your ma how late I let ya stay up. G'night."
Byron watched him pensively for a moment, reaching his fingers up to touch Sully's cheek. "You miss Mama, Papa?"
Sully swallowed. "Yeah, I do. A whole lot."
"I miss Mama," he said with a sigh. "Your kisses are all scratchy. Mama's are real nice and soft."
Sully smiled. "That they are."
"What do ya think she's doin' right now?" Byron asked curiously.
"Probably gettin' ready for bed, like us," he replied.
"Can you help me write a telegram tomorrow?" Byron went on. "I want to write another one to Mama and Jack."
"Sure I will," Sully whispered. "They'd like that."
Byron grinned, hugging his neck. "'Night, Papa."
Sully held him close, closing his eyes. "'Night, son. I love ya."
* * *
The baby gurgled incomprehensively, pressing his hands against the window as a wagon filled with mining supplies rolled by.
"Well, you'll be talking soon enough," Michaela said, kissing his head and carrying him over to his bassinette. She settled him onto the blankets and gave him his toy pony and carriage. "There you are. That's Jack's horse."
She chuckled as the baby pressed one side of the cart to his mouth, biting down on it. She reached for her apron on the hook and slipped into it, tying it around her waist as she glanced around the room. First, she needed to find out where Simon had stashed her herbs and then put them back in the cabinet where they belonged. Then she wanted to carefully go through each of the medical charts to bring herself up-to-date on her patients.
She spotted a suspicious crate resting in one corner of the clinic. Brow raised, she crossed the room and opened it, letting out a relieved sigh. Simon had stored all her Indian medicines out of sight in the crate. She picked it up and set it on the examination table, pulling out several bottles and placing them back in the glass cabinet.
The door opened and she immediately turned. "May I help--Oh, Dr. Willard. I thought I was going to get to see a patient already!"
"Dr. Quinn!" Simon cried, slowly removing his coat and hanging it on the hook.
She smiled as she placed another bottle back in the cabinet. "Good morning. I thought I'd get an early start reacquainting myself with this place."
He removed his hat and hung it beside his coat, awkwardly clasping the ends of his vest. "I didn't realize you were going to be working during your visit."
"I don't know why I shouldn't," she replied.
"And I see you've brought your baby in today," he said, glancing at the bassinette disapprovingly.
"Grace is coming by in an hour or so to take him. Once the breakfast rush is over," she explained.
He put his medical bag on her desk and sat down in the chair, folding his hands. "It's quite generous of you to offer to help me out, but I truly don't see the need. I can manage on my own."
"Oh, I didn't come to help you out. I'm sure you're quite capable," she said. "I came because I've missed my clinic. And I must admit I've really missed my patients."
"As they miss you," he said, nodding. "But, well...it's really not necessary to have two doctors here. Why don't you go on home and rest, or go visit with your friends? You shouldn't have to work while you're on holiday."
"But I want to," she protested.
"...Yes, of course. As you wish," he said quickly, opening his appointment book.
She walked over to the desk, resting her hands on it. "Tell me how everyone is. How is Loren's back? And wasn't Alice just starting to recover from quite a severe catarrh when we left? She's fully cured I hope. Hank mentioned his hay fever came back. And what about Jake? He hasn't had...had any relapses, has he? I mean with drinking."
"Heavens, I can't remember all their names!" he said with a chuckle. "I documented everything very carefully on their charts. Please, feel free to consult those."
She reluctantly stepped back to the filing cabinets, opening a drawer and pulling out several charts. "I hope you found most everything in order. I try to be very precise when it comes to keeping records."
"Yes, everything was fine," he murmured, picking up a pen and making a few notes in his book.
"How do you like Colorado Springs?" she went on, opening one of the charts and skimming it. "Quite different from Boston, isn't it?"
He slowly looked up from his appointment book. Townsfolk out West certainly could be talkative, women especially. Dr. Quinn was no exception.
"It's a lovely place. Very quaint," he said reluctantly, pulling off his spectacles. "But...I can't imagine living here permanently."
"Oh? Well, I felt that way at first, too, but I soon grew to love it."
"No, I doubt that will be the case here," he replied, cleaning the spectacles with a handkerchief. "When I entered medical school three years ago, my goal was to help patients. I wanted to be a doctor so I could put my talents to good use, save lives."
She nodded, smiling. "Yes, me, too."
He slowly let out his breath. "That will always be my first reason for doing this, don't misunderstand. Yet, I also know I'm good enough to make money, amass some wealth. My grandparents came here from Scotland with two dollars to their name. My family has worked very hard for every penny. We're part of society now. Boston knows our name and respects us. I never want that to change. As my father's only son, it's up to me to carry on the tradition."
"I'm not sure I understand," she said slowly.
He slipped on his spectacles, stood up and walked to the coat rack, pulling out a few dollars from his coat pocket. "What's this, Dr. Quinn?" he asked, holding them up.
She raised her eyebrows. "It's...money?"
"Yes. Money I won't have by the end of the day," he said impatiently. "And do you know why? Because I need to buy supplies at the mercantile to build a pen for all the chickens I've accumulated! Six so far, to be exact! I'm losing my savings working at this clinic, not adding to them!"
Michaela chuckled. "Six chickens?"
He eyed her with irritation, shoving the bills back into his pocket and returning to her desk.
She pressed her hand to her mouth, controlling her amusement. "I'm sorry. My patients pay me what they can afford. Perhaps I didn't make that clear when I asked you to come out here."
"No, not quite," he said. "Nonetheless...this has been an excellent experience. I've never been completely in charge of a group of patients and I rather like it. And sometimes I do enjoy the challenges of working within the confines of these...." He paused, glancing around the room. "Means, or lack thereof, shall we say?"
"But?" Michaela asked perceptively.
"But, I won't be staying on," he replied. "Once you return to Colorado Springs permanently, I plan to go back to Boston and start my own medical practice with rigidly set fees, hours and everything precisely the way I want it. No more chickens."
"Boston sounds like a good fit for you, Simon," she said. "But please know I do appreciate all the work you've done here in my absence."
He nodded. "It's been, well...an adventure."
"An adventure," she repeated wryly as someone rang the bell outside.
Simon leaped to his feet, brushing against Michaela as she walked to the door.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he murmured awkwardly, quickly returning to stand by the desk.
Michaela stepped back, gesturing at the door. "You've been here all year. You answer it."
He nodded, returning to the door and opening it. "Yes?"
"Is Michaela here?" Preston Lodge demanded, stepping into the room.
Simon glanced back at Michaela. "You mean Dr. Quinn? She is. How may I help you?"
"Michaela! Wonderful to see you back!" Preston exclaimed, vigorously shaking her hand. "Finally conceded defeat to Nowhere, California?"
"I didn't concede defeat to anything, Preston," Michaela replied. "I'm merely visiting."
"And home without Sully I see," he said, folding his arms. "Let me guess. Sully wanted to frolic with the eagles and the bears and what have you, and you wanted back to civilization? I imagine there was quite a falling out. I'm sorry to have missed that one!"
"That is none of your business, Mr. Lodge," Michaela said testily, grabbing the edge of the door. "I have a lot of work to do today. If you don't require medical attention, you'll have to excuse me."
He raised his hand. "Wait. I-I do need some, some advice. Not for me of course. For one of the bellhops who works on the first floor of the hotel. Or was it the second?"
"What's troubling him?" Simon asked curiously. "Perhaps you should ask him to make an appointment and come see me."
"Oh, no, no," Preston said quickly. "He's quite busy...working."
"Come inside," Michaela said, grasping his arm and closing the door. "Tell me what his symptoms are."
Preston glanced between the two doctors awkwardly, a trace of sweat forming at his hairline. "Well, he's had some chills, and he's been waking up frequently during the night to...." He gestured forward with one hand. "To use th-the bedpan."
"Is he experiencing pain or burning when he urinates?" Michaela asked inquisitively.
"What?" he blurted, folding and unfolding his arms uncomfortably. "Well...yes, some. It's not anything a man can't manage."
"For now, but it will only grow worse if left untreated," Michaela told him.
"Worse?" Preston echoed.
"That sounds like a urinary tract infection," Simon remarked.
Michaela glanced at him. "I agree."
"Is that serious?" Preston asked anxiously.
Michaela crossed the room and opened her cabinet, pulling out a bottle of gray powder and spooning some of it onto a sheet of paper while Simon watched her, perplexed.
"This is powder ground from the bark of a slippery elm," she explained. "I want you to have him mix one part of the powder with eight parts hot water and drink about half a cup of that three times a day. He should also try to increase his regular water intake. If it doesn't dissipate within the week, I'd like him to come see me."
"Dr. Quinn, you really can't expect that to cure the poor boy," Simon protested, coming to her side. "Surely some sort of tonic would be more appropriate. Stomach Bitters, perhaps?"
"It will work," Michaela replied, folding the paper and returning to Preston.
"My good man, if Dr. Quinn says it works, it works," Preston said, taking it from her and pulling out a coin from his pocket. "Thank you, Michaela. Thank you very, *very* much." He handed her the coin and opened the door, then quickly turned back. "Good to see you home. We've certainly missed your presence."
Michaela smiled. Of all people, Preston was the last person she expected to tell her he missed her. "I've missed all of you, too," she replied with a soft smile. "Very much."
Horace looked on with a smile as Michaela read the lengthy telegram from Sully and the children. She chuckled at the thought of how much Sully must have spent to make sure each child could write something to her. Katie and Byron told her about Brian teaching them their arithmetic, Brian talked about how well things were going with school and with keeping the cabin up, and Sully mentioned that sometime in the next few days he and Galen Clark were going to take the children on a short excursion to see the grove of sequoias. We wish you could come along, Sully wrote. We all love you and miss you, he had said in closing, and want to know when you're coming home.
"Nice telegram, Dr. Mike?" Horace asked, folding his fingers and leaning over the counter.
Michaela looked up, eyes filled with tears as Jack slept over her shoulder. "Yes, very," she murmured. As much as she was grateful to be back in Colorado, she was constantly thinking about Sully and the children. She knew she wanted their family to be together again, but she felt ill prepared to return to Yosemite so soon. Dorothy still needed her, she was enjoying working at the clinic again and she wanted to visit with her friends some more. She often toyed with asking Sully to send the children out to visit Colorado Springs, but she was hesitant to subject them to such a long train ride in winter.
Horace slid a pencil toward her. "What ya gonna write them back?"
Michaela faltered, patting Jack's back. "Could you send a wire and just tell them...I miss them and love them, too?"
"Is that all?" he questioned, straightening.
Michaela opened her purse and placed a coin on the counter. "Yes. I need to be going. I promised Dorothy I'd meet her right now."
"Sure thing, Dr. Mike," he said, stepping over to the telegraph. "I'll let ya know when they wire back again."
"Thank you, Horace," she replied, turning around and walking down the platform. She hugged Jack close. "I miss them, don't you?" she whispered, swallowing hard as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I wish they would come here. Oh, I miss them so much, Jack."
Taking a stiff breath to regain her composure, she walked down the street toward the mercantile. Everywhere she went, townsfolk stopped to wave, tip their hats or greet her. Despite being gone almost a year, they made her feel like she had never lost her place in the town. She felt needed and wanted, unlike in Yosemite, with Sully's co-workers hesitant to let her so much as come near them.
Colorado Springs was her true home, Michaela thought as she climbed the steps to the store. It had grown more important to her than any other place, even Boston. If she had missed it when they were in Yosemite, she missed it even more now that she was back in town.
"Mornin', Dr. Mike," Loren said as he opened the doors to the store and walked out with a broom. "Jack ain't sleepin' again, is he? Is that all he does?"
Michaela chuckled, kissing the baby's head. "Believe me that's not all he does. Is Dorothy upstairs?"
"I ain't seen her come down," he replied, sticking his broom under a vegetable stand and poking at a few stray kittens hovering beneath it. "Go on! Scat!" He stood back up, glancing at Michaela perceptively. "Why you been comin' here all this week anyway? Is anythin' wrong? Dorothy ain't sick, is she, Dr. Mike?"
"Nothing's wrong," she replied, stepping into the store. "I've missed my friend and I want to see her."
"You womenfolk," he said with a sigh, resting his broom against the side of the store and following her inside. "Always wantin' to see each other, always wantin' to chatter on about who knows what."
Michaela smiled, kissing Jack's cheek and then handing him to Loren. "Could you watch the baby for me? I won't be long."
"Watch the baby?" Loren blurted, looking down at Jack apprehensively. "Oh, Dr. Mike. Can't you get somebody else?"
"Jack told me he wants you, Loren. Besides it's only for a few minutes," Michaela said, turning for the stairs.
"What about my store?" Loren demanded, holding the baby at arm's length. "Wait! Dr. Mike!"
"I'll be right back," Michaela called as she ascended the stairs. She walked down the hallway and knocked on the door to Dorothy's room.
Dorothy immediately opened the door, a hesitant smile on her face. "Mornin', Michaela."
"Good morning," Michaela replied, stepping inside and closing the door. "How are you doing?"
Dorothy sat on her bed. "I s'pose I won't know until you examine me. It's been a week."
"Yes," Michaela replied, setting her bag on the bed and opening it.
Dorothy quickly unbuttoned her blouse. "Go on. Take a look. Get this over with."
Michaela sat down beside her and carefully pressed her hands to Dorothy's skin, her concentration completely on her work. She slowly smiled. "Yes. The swelling we felt seems to have minimized significantly."
Dorothy let out her breath. "Oh, thank goodness."
Michaela probed her fingers around the breast one last time, making sure she examined the entire area. "I believe we can be certain the growth is benign," she finally said, withdrawing her hands. "It will probably completely disappear within the next few weeks." She buttoned Dorothy's blouse, watching her friend's expression sink. "What's wrong?"
Dorothy shook her head. "Nothin'. I'm just so...so relieved. I didn't want to go through all that again." She turned to face Michaela, giving her a warm hug. "Oh, thank you, Michaela. Thank you."
Michaela held her tightly. "I'm relieved, too. I'm glad you're all right."
"I'm glad you came home," Dorothy said as tears fell from her eyes. "I was so frightened. This is the kindest thing anybody's ever done for me, leavin' behind everythin' just to see to it I was all right."
"You're my best friend, Dorothy," Michaela replied. "I had to be with you for this."
Dorothy slowly pulled back, brushing away her tears. "Well, I gotta get over to the Gazette in a few minutes! The newspaper don't stop publishin' just for somethin' like this."
Michaela smiled. "And I have to get to the clinic."
Dorothy rose from the bed. "When are ya goin' back to Yosemite? Grace and I want you to have supper with everybody over at the café before you leave. How's tonight sound? Don't tell me you're leavin' today. At least wait until tomorrow."
Michaela lowered her eyes. "Oh, I don't think I'll be leaving that soon."
"Wonderful!" Dorothy exclaimed excitedly. "We'd love to have you stay on a few more days."
"Actually, Dorothy, I don't know when I'm going home," Michaela murmured. "Another week, perhaps two. Perhaps even more."
"Two weeks!" Dorothy cried. "Michaela, that's a long time!"
Michaela shrugged. "I've missed everyone here. I don't think I'm ready to go back."
Dorothy eyed her uncertainly. "Oh. I thought for sure ya'd leave as soon as we knew I was well. Sully and the children must be missin' ya terribly and I know you've been missin' them."
"They just sent me a telegram," she said quickly. "They're fine."
Dorothy stepped closer. "Michaela, what happened? What's wrong?"
"Nothing happened, Dorothy," she said defensively. "I've just missed Colorado Springs, that's all."
"Of course you've missed it. But you'll all be home in a few months and everythin'll be just like before."
Michaela took a deep breath. "Sully wants to stay, Dorothy. He wants us all to live in Yosemite."
"Oh, well, he's just taken to the work. He's enjoyin' it," she said sensibly. "He can't really want to spend the rest of your lives there."
"He does," Michaela insisted. "And he's asked me to stay with him."
Dorothy grew speechless, her mouth dropping slightly. "Well, this changes things, don't it?" she whispered.
Michaela stood up, avoiding her eyes. She wasn't ready to talk to Dorothy about her feelings, as much as she trusted her. She wasn't even sure what she was feeling to begin with. "I really must get to the clinic."
Dorothy grasped her arm. "Michaela, what're ya gonna do?"
She picked up her medical bag and opened the door, pausing for a long moment. "I don't know," she finally said. "I'll see you around town?"
Dorothy escorted her into the hall and watched her disappear down the stairs. "See you around town," she echoed quietly.
"Oh, you're heavy, Jack!" Dorothy exclaimed, putting him on her hip. "Are you gonna spend the afternoon with your Auntie Dorothy?"
Jack stuck his fingers in his mouth, shyly gazing up at Dorothy.
Michaela smiled and gave the baby one more kiss. "I'll see you soon, Jack. Be a good boy." She clasped her friend's hand. "Thank you, Dorothy. I'll come by to pick him up as soon as I close the clinic for the evening."
Dorothy smiled wide. "We'll see you then. Don't worry about us." She waved the baby's hand at his mother and then turned and walked down the street. "Come on. Let's go visit Mr. Bray. Oh, now don't let him fool you. He pretends to be grumpy but he loves to see Jack!"
Michaela chuckled as she watched them go. She waved one last time and then stepped up onto the porch of her clinic just as Simon opened the door, leading a young mother and her newborn outside. The woman was patting the little boy's back fretfully as he grunted and cried.
"Bathe him frequently," Simon instructed. "You can try adding some baking soda to the water to help soothe the itching. Or oatmeal."
"Thank you, doc," she said quietly.
Michaela cleared her throat. "Mrs. McCain? What's wrong?"
"Oh, Dr. Mike. I heard you were back!" Tara said, turning around and tiredly shifting the baby to her other shoulder. "It's my littlest. Just seven weeks old. Doc says he's done come down with the chickenpox."
Michaela pulled the blanket from the infant's face, drawing in her breath. A telltale rash marked his cheeks, neck and chest. He was tossing his fists impatiently as tears filled his wide brown eyes. "I think I'd like to see him myself. Two months old you said?"
"Dr. Quinn, I assure you I examined the child thoroughly," Simon said, reluctantly backing into the room as Michaela picked up the baby and carried him inside. "I'm certain it's chickenpox. He has all the classic symptoms."
Michaela laid the baby on her examination table and unbuttoned his shift. She was hesitant to frighten the infant's mother, but intuition told her not to allow her to leave the clinic without taking a closer look at the baby. "Infants are at a greater risk for encephalitis or sepsis."
"What? What's that?" Tara demanded fearfully, reaching out to stroke the thin brown hair on her baby's head. "Is he gonna be all right?"
"I believe so," Michaela replied. "But because he's so young we need to monitor him carefully. What's his name?"
"Sepsis? Encephalitis?" Simon repeated. "Both extremely rare. I see no need to alarm this poor girl in such a manner."
Michaela ignored Simon's remarks, eyes focused solely on the baby as she carefully ran her fingers over his blisters. "What's his name, Mrs. McCain?"
"Cameron," she said tearfully, bending down and kissing his head. "Oh, don't cry, darlin'. Dr. Mike's gonna take good care of ya."
Michaela pulled out her stethoscope. "Hello, Cameron. You're not feeling very well, are you?"
"He's been tryin' to pull on his ear," Tara went on. "Maybe he's got somethin' wrong with that, too."
"That's not uncommon to see infections of the inner ear with chickenpox," Michaela said, pressing her hand to his head. "He has a low fever and his case doesn't seem to be too severe. Still, I'd like to keep him here at least overnight."
"Dr. Quinn, it's chickenpox," Simon spoke up curtly. "Every child comes down with it one way or another. I've never seen a patient succumb to such a thing."
"Good. Let's keep it that way," Michaela replied, picking up the baby and walking over to the basin. "We'll start with a cool bath."
Tara followed her over and poured water into the basin.
"How was he exposed to this?" Michaela asked, carefully lowering the baby into the water. "Another child must have it whom he's come into contact with."
"My two older girls just got over it," she replied. "Seems like half the school has come down with it."
"The school?" Michaela replied.
"That's right. Those two picked it up there from somebody I suspect," she said. "My youn'uns come home with everything in creation from that place. Chickenpox, catarrhs, mumps, measles. Just everything."
Michaela handed her the baby and picked up a bar of soap, quickly washing her hands. "We need to shut down the school."
"Shut down the school!" Simon exclaimed. "Dr. Quinn, control yourself! There's no need to start a mass panic."
"Teresa might as well close school," Michaela replied. "If half the children have come down with this, the other half are going to get it soon enough. If there's a chance to spare a few children we should take it."
"I utterly disagree," he said firmly, standing in front of the door. "We should allow this to run its course naturally. You can't stop something like this even if you wanted to. It's very contagious."
"I see no need for a child to suffer if he doesn't have to," Michaela retorted, untying her apron. "Chickenpox can be serious for some children. We need to isolate them and examine each of them carefully. I'm calling an emergency town council meeting. We're closing the school, Dr. Willard. Right now."
* * *
Cameron let out an exhausted whimper as Tara picked him up and cradled him in her arms. She opened the door and walked silently into the hallway, shutting it after her as she began humming and pacing up and down it. The baby cried on hoarsely, arms and legs limp, until finally he had no more energy. Tara slowly looked down at him, an eerie chill running the length of her spine. A guttural scream built within her chest and escaped her lips, shaking the walls of the clinic.
Michaela threw open the door, running to Tara's side.
Tara clutched the baby tightly to her chest and screamed again, falling to her knees and leaning against the wall.
Michaela swallowed hard, pressing her hand to the baby's head. Cameron's eyes were sealed closed and his lips were parted as if he were simply sleeping. But no baby, Michaela knew, could sleep through the strength of Tara's primeval wails. She slowly knelt down, squeezing Tara's shoulder.
"He was too weak. I tried everything. He just couldn't," Michaela began, shaking her head as tears slipped freely down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
Tara held the baby even tighter and kissed his head. "Ain't even been properly christened yet," she choked out. "My sweet little boy."
"I'll send for the reverend. We'll christen him," Michaela whispered. "Let's go back to the front room. Please."
"No. Leave me," Tara murmured. "Leave us be."
"I did everything I knew how," Michaela said, swiping at her tears.
"Please," Tara whispered, closing her eyes tight. "Just let me say goodbye to my son."
Michaela rose to her feet, inhaling shakily as she grasped the doorknob. "I'm sorry, Mrs. McCain. I'll be just in here if you need me."
Jake raised his eyes as Simon rode up to the clinic and dismounted, tethering his horse to the hitching post.
"Good morning, Dr. Quinn," he said, tucking his medical bag under his arm. "I trust our patient is doing better."
Michaela slowly rose to her feet, taking a deep breath. "Actually he's...he's not, Simon. He's not doing better."
Simon glanced between Jake and Michaela, perplexed. "What's wrong? Let me see him."
"Ya can't," Jake said quietly.
"He died a few hours ago," Michaela said. "There was nothing anyone could do."
Simon's face grew pale with shock. "Died? How did this happen? The child had chickenpox!"
Michaela lead him to the bench and sat down with him. "He was hardly two months old. He was so weak. His throat began swelling during the night and he eventually stopped breathing."
Simon whisked off his spectacles, rubbing his eyes. "I don't believe this. He seemed fine when I examined him. I thought for certain he would recover without delay!"
"Infants can be overwhelmed quite suddenly by such things," Michaela said reassuringly. "It's often difficult to see it coming."
"I brought that child into this world," Simon said, burying his eyes beneath his hand. "I don't think I'd ever delivered a sturdier, healthier newborn. And now you say he's...?"
"We both did what we thought was best," Michaela said. "Nothing could have saved him, Simon." She looked up as Robert E. strolled over to the clinic, turning his hat in his hands. Sweat and dust clung to his brow from working so quickly. "Dr. Mike? You're all set."
Michaela nodded. "Thank you, Robert E."
Robert E. nodded at the door. "How his folks comin' along?"
Michaela swallowed. "They're very shaken. The reverend's with them now."
"Don't remember the last time I made a coffin so small," he murmured, shaking his head. "I'll bring it over to your place, Jake."
Jake stepped down from the porch, shaking his hand. "Thanks, Robert E. Appreciate the help."
"Sure thing," he replied quietly.
Michaela stood back up. "Jake, I must insist that everyone in town bring their sick children to the clinic. I especially need to know if any more infants have this. This may be a severe strain. I don't know, but I want to bring it under control immediately."
"Good idea," he said approvingly. "I'll sound the bell and make the announcement."
Simon took a stiff breath. "I'll come with you, Mayor Slicker. It may help if they hear this from a doctor."
Michaela nodded, patting Simon's arm. "You must convince everyone to take this seriously. Most patients come through just fine, but the very young or weak may have a harder time."
"They'll listen, Dr. Quinn," Simon said.
Jake folded his arms, nodding at the clinic. "After hearing about this they will."
* * *
"If she develops any sort of coughing or starts to act worse, bring her back here immediately," Michaela instructed.
"Poor thing can't sleep a wink she's been itchin' so bad," the woman said wearily, lifting the little girl from the examination table and patting her back.
"Try to keep her from itching and continue giving her the baking soda baths," Michaela said. "This is all quite normal. It shouldn't last more than a few more days."
"Thanks, Dr. Mike," she replied. "When me and my husband heard about the McCains...well, you can imagine we were real scared."
"Of course," Michaela replied sympathetically, opening the door. "But she's strong and I'm sure she'll come through fine. Good luck." She escorted the woman out and then glanced at the long line of parents and miserable little girls and boys that had formed outside the clinic. Since Jake had directed everyone in town with sick children to come to the clinic a day and a half ago, Michaela and Simon had been working without rest. The sickest children as well as babies under one year of age they had kept in the upstairs recovery rooms for observation, while other children they sent back home with baking soda and orders to stay in bed.
Michaela nodded at a father sitting on the bench with two dejected little girls dozing in his lap. "Next?" She turned as a wagon came barreling down the street, spooking horses and surprising townsfolk nearby.
"Dr. Mike! Dr. Mike!" Grace shouted, giving the team a firm slap with the reins and pulling it up to the clinic.
"Grace?" Michaela called as townsfolk nearby rushed over.
Grace pulled back on the reins fiercely and jumped down from the wagon, running to the back where a young woman from Shantytown was sitting, two boys barely school age lying down under burlap blankets.
"It's Dora Mae's boys," Grace explained frantically. "I was just out at their school. All the children there started comin' down with it, too."
The smallest of the boys squinted up his eyes and let out a feeble, wet cough, his face marked with a copious rash.
"How long have they been coughing like that?" Michaela asked, pressing her hands to the children's foreheads.
"Started last night," Dora Mae said, climbing down from the back of the wagon. "What's wrong with 'em? My grandmammy says this ain't s'posed to happen with chickenpox."
"There can be complications. Some children develop pneumonia," Michaela replied. "Let's bring them inside."
Dora Mae picked up the younger of the two boys as a man waiting near the bench immediately stepped forward, his young son sleeping over his shoulder.
"Dirty coloreds, that's who done brung this into town in the first place!" he said forcefully, glaring at Dora Mae.
Michaela picked up the other boy, cradling him in her arms as she eyed the man. "Actually, I believe we spread it to them. The epidemic started here at our schoolhouse."
"It was me that must of spread it into Shantytown," Grace spoke up guiltily. "I was there a few days ago helpin' teach."
Simon stepped out onto the porch, drying his hands on a towel. He glanced at Michaela cautiously. "Dr. Quinn, we're rather busy here attending to our own townspeople."
"These children are very ill," she replied. "We need to get them into a bed and examine them."
The man took another step forward, wrinkling his brow. "I don't want my boy touchin' the same sheets as them...them niggers!"
"Me neither," a woman spoke up.
"Same here," another man said.
Dora Mae slowly turned to Michaela, reluctant to cause a conflict. "We'll take 'em back to their own beds and you can come out and examine them there, Dr. Mike."
"Dora Mae, we can't wait any longer!" Grace protested. "They're gettin' sicker by the minute!"
Simon cleared his throat, leaning toward Michaela. "Dr. Quinn, they're obviously making our patients very uncomfortable," he whispered. "Perhaps this young woman has the right idea. Perhaps you should go back to their own homes and examine them there."
"Making our patients uncomfortable, or are you concerned with how they're making you uncomfortable, Simon?" Michaela demanded. "These children have pneumonia. A doctor has an obligation to promptly treat anyone who is sick, no matter what color his or her skin is. This is my clinic and I'm bringing them inside."
"Well, we're leavin'!" the man shouted. "I ain't gonna be cut in line by the likes of them!"
Michaela spun around to face him. "Leave if you like. But understand that this is what happens when children aren't seen by a doctor. They develop pneumonia or other complications. We all have to take this epidemic seriously."
"Don't leave, sir, please," Simon said, stepping up to Michaela. "Dr. Quinn will bring her two patients upstairs, out of sight, and I'll continue examining everyone down here. You must let me look at your son. Please."
The man sighed, slowly relenting as he glanced down at his sick little boy. "All right. I s'pose so. But hurry up. We've been waitin' here an hour."
"I believe you're next," Michaela said, swallowing. "Simon?"
"That's correct, Dr. Quinn," Simon said, grasping his arm and leading him and the child inside.
"I don't know what we'd do if you wasn't here, Dr. Mike," Dora Mae said, sitting down on the bed as Michaela covered the boys with a warm quilt. "Nobody else would've paid us any heed."
"Like Dr. Mike said, a doctor's gotta take care of the sick," Grace remarked, sitting beside Dora Mae and handing her another teacup.
"I want them to keep drinking the tea," Michaela said, picking up a cup on the table beside the bed and lifting up the head of the boy closest to her, the younger of the two. "Here, Dalton. Have some more."
"No. It tastes awful," he whimpered, a tear slipping down his cheek.
"Just try a little, pumpkin," Grace encouraged. "It'll make ya feel better."
"Don't scratch, child!" Dora Mae scolded, pulling away the hand of the older boy from his cheek and squeezing his wrist. "Didn't ya hear a word Dr. Mike told ya?"
"I'm itchy, Ma," he said dolefully, brow bathed in sweat. He raised his hand and coughed into it, violently jostling the fluid settling on his lungs.
Michaela smoothed his hair sympathetically and stood up. "I'll bring up something from downstairs to help the itching."
She opened the door to the hallway just as Dorothy rushed up the stairs.
"Michaela!" she called, hurrying over to her as she closed the door to the recovery room. "Folks say now Shantytown's come down with this, too!"
"I'm afraid so," Michaela replied. "How's Jack? Is he acting sick?"
"Oh, no. He's just as happy as ever so far," Dorothy replied, her notebook strung around her neck. "Loren's sittin' with him over at the Gazette tellin' him a story! Can you believe that?"
Michaela chuckled. "That's very sweet of him. I'm so grateful for all your help with the baby. I'll try to come by as soon as I can, but the patients just don't seem to end."
"I've never seen anythin' like this," Dorothy remarked. "Seems every child in town's come down with it. This ain't sparin' a soul. I'm writin' up an article for tomorrow's Gazette, tellin' folks about it. Not that anybody hasn't heard."
"We did the right thing closing the school and telling everyone to come here," Michaela replied. "We'll be able to contain the epidemic much more quickly that way."
"If ya don't mind I'll quote you on that," Dorothy said with a smile, pulling her pencil out from behind her ear and writing in her notebook. "Oh, Michaela, Horace came by," she went on as she wrote. "He said to let you know there's another telegram in from Sully."
"I'm not sure when I'll find time to pick it up, let alone wire him back," Michaela replied with a sigh, resting her back against the wall tiredly.
"Would you like me to wire him?" Dorothy asked. "You can tell me what ya wanna say."
Michaela thought a moment. "Yes. Yes, I'd appreciate that. Just explain what's happening with the epidemic. Tell him about the McCains. But make sure he knows I'm fine and so is Jack. Oh, and tell him Isaiah and Dalton are doing better with the help of burdock tea. Cloud Dancing taught me about it when I first came to Colorado."
"Is that all?" Dorothy asked, making a few notes with her pencil. "You gonna say when you'll be done here?"
"Tell him I don't know," Michaela said quickly.
"I'll say you'll be home when it's over," Dorothy replied.
Michaela grasped her arm. "Please, Dorothy. Just don't write anything about that. Please?"
"But he'll want to know, Michaela," she said. "I'm sure all of 'em do."
"I know," she whispered. "But I'm not ready to answer."
Dorothy reluctantly placed her pencil back behind her ear. "All right. If that's what you want."
"I have to get back to my patients," Michaela replied. "Tell Jack I'll come see him soon. I truly can't thank you enough for looking after him and keeping him away from all this."
Dorothy smiled. "It's no trouble. That's what we're here for, Michaela. Anything else you need, you just let me know."
Michaela wrapped her shawl warmly around her shoulders as she stepped down from the clinic porch and walked to the meadow. A small group of mourners were gathered around the Reverend in the cemetery, heads bent in prayer. Michaela crossed the bridge and quietly entered the cemetery, finding a shaded, secluded place to stand just inside the gates.
"And they brought young children to Him, that He should touch them," the Reverend continued to recite as Mr. and Mrs. McCain stared at the tiny casket disbelievingly, their two young daughters standing in front of them. "And his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw this, he was much displeased, and said unto them, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.'" The reverend paused to allow the verses to lend their calming effect, then slowly held out a shovel in front of the McCains.
Mr. McCain reluctantly took it from him and dug it into the small pile of dirt, sprinkling the dirt onto the casket. Tara closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears overflowed and slipped down her cheeks.
The Reverend held his Bible tight against his chest and took a deep breath. "God of compassion, we entrust Cameron, a lamb of your flock, to your merciful keeping. Guide all those who knew this precious infant through their pain and grief. Help them not to question Your will but to trust in Your infinite wisdom, believing that today You cradle Cameron in Your arms. We ask all this in the name of our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," Michaela whispered, raising her head as the mourners began disbanding from the grave and returning to their horses and wagons. She remained standing in place as Tara and her husband walked past her, heads lowered and their arms around each other. Michaela opened her mouth to speak, then withdrew as she realized nothing she could say would be of much help to the devastated parents.
Finally, the Reverend followed the last few people out of the cemetery.
"Reverend," Michaela called, stepping forward.
"Dr. Mike?" he replied, smiling softly as he clutched his walking stick. "I'm glad you came."
"I'll walk you back to town," she said, taking hold of his arm.
"Thank you," he said, gently patting her hand.
"I did all I could for him," Michaela began as they crossed the bridge.
"I know. And they do, too. Give them some time," the Reverend said reassuringly.
"...Why did this happen?" Michaela asked quietly.
"I'm afraid only the Lord knows that," he replied with a sigh. "You can be reassured by the fact that you're helping the other children of this town. You and Dr. Willard are doing everything to make sure this doesn't happen again."
"Thank you, Reverend. That helps. And you can be reassured that you did all you could to aid them in putting their baby to rest, giving them some sense of closure."
He smiled. "Yes. Tara and John's grief may be overwhelming now, but they have a close-knit family surrounding them. They'll make it through this, Dr. Mike."
Michaela led him up the steps of the store. "As long as we don't have to face it alone, I suppose we can get through anything," she remarked reflectively.
"I've learned that," he said, turning to face her. "When I lost my sight, you and Sully and the entire town helped me through. You're still helping me through."
"Well, that's the kind of town this is," she said, patting his arm with a smile. "I need to get back to the clinic."
"It was nice talking to you, Dr. Mike," the Reverend said. "It's nice having you back."
"It's nice to be back, Reverend," she replied.
Sully folded the telegram and stared into the fire, reluctant to face the children. They were gathered around the table, excitement over more word from Michaela having immediately dampened to despair upon hearing about the epidemic.
"The good news is Dorothy's all right," Sully finally said, voice hoarse. He had been in a subdued mood all day. Michaela's telegram came early that morning, and for the rest of the day, he could barely keep his focus on his work. His heart was filled with several emotions, not the least of which was intense worry. He didn't know when Michaela was coming back, and apparently she didn't either. He had put off telling the children about it until late that night, unable to bear the disappointment he knew they were going to feel.
"Yeah. That's good to hear," Brian murmured, folding his arms on the table.
"How long does it take to get better from chickenpox, Papa?" Katie spoke up quietly.
He slowly turned, eyes lowered. "I don't know, Kates. A week or so."
"It could be a whole month by the time everybody in town gets over it," Brian said. "Ma ain't gonna stay there a whole month, is she?"
Sully walked briskly over to the counter, taking down a few cans from the shelf. "No, she wouldn't stay that long. Come on. We gotta finish packin' for the trip tomorrow."
Byron slowly slid down from the bench, walking over to his father and tugging on his shirt. "Papa. Papa," he whispered.
Sully slowly paused, clearing his throat. "What's wrong, Byron?"
He took a deep breath, eyes filling with tears. "Can you help me write Mama again? I wanna tell her she has to come back right now. And Jack. They been gone a long time!"
Sully bent to his knees, grasping the little boy's arms. "People are sick, son. Kids like you ain't feelin' so good. Your ma's gotta help 'em."
He shook his head. "No. I want her to come home."
Sully drew him into a warm hug, rubbing his back. "I know. Me, too. But there's nothin' we can do except wait for everybody to get better. You excited about seein' the sequoias? That'll help get our minds off missin' Mama."
"I guess," he whispered, closing his eyes. "But can at least Jack come home?"
"I don't know how Jack would feel about gettin' on a train all by himself. He better stay with your ma," Sully replied. "Will ya help me pack some of these cans? We're gonna need somethin' to cook up for us out there besides the fish we're gonna catch." He gently kissed his cheek and stood back up, giving his bottom a pat as someone knocked on the door.
"Who's that?" Katie asked, rising to her knees in her chair.
"I'll get it," Brian said, hurrying across the room and opening the door to the cool night wind.
Mollie rested her suitcase on the porch and burst into a wide smile. "Well, here I am!"
"Mollie!" Brian exclaimed, voice cracking with surprise.
"Mollie!" Katie and Byron shouted, running to the girl's side and hugging her waist tightly.
Mollie held them close, rocking them from side to side. "Hello, you two! I thought it would be simply wicked if I came out here and surprised everyone. So, I bought a ticket for the stage and did it! They dropped me off right near the path to your cabin! Wasn't that nice of them? You said you wanted me to visit, Brian, and I took that invitation very seriously."
"Well, sure. I meant it, Mollie," Brian stammered, staring at her with his mouth agape. "I just, I-I-"
Sully opened the door wider and picked up the girl's carpetbag. "We just didn't know if you'd ever have a chance to make it out here. But ya did, so come on in."
Mollie leaned forward and kissed Sully's cheek. "Good to see you again, Mr. Sully. You're so kind to me. Now where's Auntie Michaela?"
"Ma ain't here," Brian said quietly.
"Mama left us and went back to Colorado Springs," Byron blurted.
"She didn't leave us, B.," Brian chastised. "At least not on purpose."
Sully led the young woman inside, shutting the door after her. "Some folks got sick. They needed her."
"Oh, dear," Mollie murmured, pressing her gloved hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry to hear that. And what a shame that I've missed her!" She glanced around the room, hands on her hips. "Oh, this place is darling! It's just like you described, Brian. You're certainly true pioneers here."
"You can have my bed, Mollie," Byron offered. "I'll sleep on the floor like a Miwok."
"A Miwok?" she questioned, stooping to his level. "And what's that?"
"An Indian," he replied matter-of-factly. "They found Katie."
"Indians?" she murmured, face paling. "There's Indians here? My goodness, I hope you have a firm lock on your door!"
"It's all right, Mollie. They don't wanna hurt us," Sully explained. "We live in peace with them now."
"Yeah," Brian agreed, glancing at Sully. "I wasn't sure about 'em at first, but now I see they're more scared of us than we were them."
"Can Mollie come see the big trees with us, Papa?" Katie asked, walking to his side.
"Oh, yeah. Our trip," Brian whispered, eyes still fixed on Mollie. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. Her skin shone with a soft glow from walking out to their cabin and thin wisps of auburn hair had spilled flatteringly from her chignon to frame her face. Her bubbly smile and soft laugh only added to her appeal. Brian found he practically had to remind himself to keep breathing.
"Don't see why ya can't come, too," Sully replied. "We're gonna do some hikin' for a few days out near the sequoia grove. Fishin', too. As long as you're here you should join us."
"Oh, lovely!" she said, clasping her hands together. "And what inn will we be staying in? One of the ones you built I presume, Mr. Sully?"
Sully chuckled. "Inn? There's no inn out there, Mollie. Just us, the land and a few tents we'll pitch."
"Tents?" she uttered, raising her eyebrows. "Well, this should be interesting!"
* * *
"I had no idea chickenpox could be so serious," Galen remarked, his walking stick in hand and a knapsack secured over his shoulders. "I'm very sorry she couldn't come with us. I think she would have enjoyed it. But, they seem to need her talents there."
Sully nodded, remaining quiet. He was already missing Michaela enough, and talking about her not being there was only going to make him miss her more. He gazed up at the bright green foliage. "It's beautiful here."
"That it is," Galen replied. "You know, I was the first person to explore this area. I spent weeks camped out here, counting the trees, measuring them, making careful notes. Still, every time I come back here I'm struck by all this utter splendor."
"Is that what ya do when you're not out at our work site?" Sully asked curiously. "Make notes about the place?"
"Occasionally," Galen replied. "I'll tour the park with visitors from time to time, help keep the peace with the homesteaders nearby. Other times I'm away in Washington or Sacramento, trying to have a reasonable dialogue with dim-witted politicians!"
Sully chuckled. "I know how that is."
"I'd much rather be here though," Galen went on. "Sully, the times when I'm most happy is when I'm off on hikes like these. Can you tell me anything better in the world than climbing to the top of a mountain and looking off? I love the freedom of this place. I often take my rifle, a few provisions, and disappear for a few weeks. For no reason, really. Just to see the land. I'll shoot a deer, sometimes a bear, eat enough so I can lift it and then bring it back home to dry."
"So ya call this home," Sully remarked, slowly drawing in his breath.
"Yes. You could, too, Sully," Galen replied.
"I could," Sully replied noncommittally, watching as the boys gave Mollie and Katie a hand over a muddy puddle in the path.
"How...how far is this grove, Brian?" Mollie asked, out of breath as she regained her footing on the damp path. She was sweating profusely beneath her traveling gown, her boots were soaked with mud and her hair was falling haphazardly around her face.
"I don't know. A few more miles maybe," Brian replied, shifting his canteen securely over his shoulder. "Ya all right?"
"Oh, yes!" she said quickly, unwilling to admit how exhausted the hike had made her. The longer they hiked, the more determined she was to prove to Brian she could do it. He had seen what her life was like, now she was ready to see his.
"Ya wanna rest?" Brian asked.
"No, no," she replied, walking faster. "I want to look at these trees everyone talks about. It's just...perhaps we should have taken horses! This is quite a trek."
"Horses can't fit through here," Brian explained.
"Yeah, Papa says they're too big," Byron added, continuing his brisk pace. He had been at the front of the group the entire hike. The last time they had gone on a long walk with Galen, the little boy had suffered a debilitating attack half way up the mountain. In a matter of months, however, Byron's asthma had become less and less of a factor in his daily routine. Perhaps Galen was right, that the mountain air of Yosemite truly had curative powers.
"Yes, I suppose they are," Mollie remarked, smoothing the sweat from her brow with her gloved hand. "So, this is what you do for fun out here!"
"Papa takes us on walks," Katie explained. "We see lots of animals. Deers, birds. We saw bear cubs."
"What? Bears?" Mollie exclaimed. "There's bears out here?"
Byron giggled, pausing in his steps to face his cousin. "They eat you!"
"B.!" Brian scolded, grabbing his shoulder. "They don't eat ya, Mollie. He's just teasin'."
"Are you sure?" she murmured, glancing around the woods nervously.
He smiled. "They were black bears. They eat nuts and fruit."
"But ya never know," Byron added mischievously.
"Stop scarin', Mollie," Brian chastised. "That's not nice, B. She's our guest."
"Oh, I'm not scared, Brian," she blurted. "Nothing scares me, least of all some little bear cub. It was little, wasn't it?"
"Kids! Look!" Sully called, jogging up to the children as Galen followed close behind. He pointed ahead of them, resting his hand on Katie's shoulder. "Look. It's the sequoias. We're here."
They followed his gaze, simultaneously drawing in their breaths. Towering before them were the giant redwoods, twenty-five feet wide around or more at the base and as tall as the eye could see.
"Welcome to Mariposa Big Tree grove. My home," Galen said, stepping up to the group.
The sun was setting as Brian rested his notebook on his knees and wrote steadily. Mollie sat on the log beside him, writing in a journal of her own and making sketches of the grand sequoias before them.
She turned her journal toward Brian and smiled. "Do you like it?"
Brian looked up. "Yeah. Looks just like 'em. I didn't know ya could draw."
"Just a little," she replied absently, turning her gaze to the nearby creek. Galen was standing on a rock in the center, fishing, while Sully and the children waded farther downstream, washing in the cool water after the long hike.
"Ya wanna swim, Mollie?" Brian asked.
"Oh, no. I couldn't," she replied. "It's not...not very appropriate."
Brian glanced around. "There's nobody here who cares."
She looked down at her arm with a startled gasp, her eyes widening. "Brian...Brian, get it off! Get it off me!"
"What?" he asked, glancing at her arm. A small, round and dark insect was slowly creeping up the silk of her dress sleeve. "Oh. It looks like a dung beetle."
"Just get it off," she said curtly. "Hurry."
Brian picked up the beetle with two fingers and held it up as it squirmed. "I think I brought Katie's magnifying glass in my pack." He dug into the satchel at his feet, coming up with the magnifying glass and peering through it. "This is a big one. Wanna see?"
"No, thank you." Mollie watched him hesitantly. "So, tell me. Why are they called...dung beetles?"
Brian grinned, setting the insect on the ground and watching as it scurried beneath some fallen leaves. "Well, they eat dung. They're real important, especially to farmers. They replenish the soil."
"Charming," she murmured.
"Sure ya don't wanna swim?" Brian asked, watching as Sully tried to coax the younger children to jump off the bank into the water. "It's a lot of fun, Mollie."
"Perhaps for you, but being soaking wet is not my idea of fun," she said with a grin.
He closed his notebook and unbuttoned his shirt. "If ya don't mind I'm gonna go in for a few minutes."
"Please do," she said. "Don't worry about me. I'll watch."
"If that's what ya want," he replied, jogging over to the bank and wading in beside Sully.
"Come on, Kates," Sully called holding his hands up to the little girl. "Hold your breath and jump."
"Papa, I'll drown!" she replied fearfully.
"Ya won't drown," Sully said. "I'm right here. I'll catch ya."
"Come on, Katie," Brian encouraged. "I'll catch ya, too. Come on. It feels nice."
"You'll catch me?" she asked, glancing between them.
"I promise," Sully replied. "Come on, sweet girl. Ya can do it."
Taking a brave, deep breath, Katie pinched her nose, squeezed her eyes shut and jumped into Sully's arms with a small splash.
Sully laughed and lifted her above his head. "Ya did it! I told ya!"
Brian patted her back. "See, Kate? It's fun."
Katie opened her eyes and burst into an excited smile, hugging Sully's neck. "I did it, Papa! I'm not afraid anymore!"
He kissed her head and handed her to Brian. "Ya did real good."
"Me next, Papa! Me next!" Byron called from the bank, clapping his hands. He ran off the bank into the water, falling into Sully's embrace with an animated cry. "I did it, too, Papa!"
Sully smoothed back his damp hair from his eyes. "Ya sure did. I'm so proud of both of ya."
"Let's go tell Mr. Clark we can swim," Byron said, doggy-paddling out of Sully's hold and sinking into the water.
Sully quickly drew him up from the water as the little boy coughed and gasped for air. "One step at a time, son," he said with a chuckle. "Spit it out."
Byron spewed forward the remaining water and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head to regain his senses.
"We'll teach ya some strokes tomorrow," Sully said. "The important thing is ya ain't scared."
"We gotta tell Mama," Katie spoke up excitedly, hanging onto Brian's neck. "We gotta tell her we're learnin' to swim!"
"You're right," Brian said. "She'll wanna know."
"I want Mama to see me swim," Byron said sadly. "And jump."
"She missed it," Brian murmured. "Ma missed it."
"We'll send her a telegram when we get back," Sully said quickly. "We'll let her know how good ya did."
* * *
"Mama!" a tiny voice called, startling Michaela from sleep. "Mama!"
"Byron?" Michaela murmured, glancing around the room. She quickly regained her bearings, standing up and opening the door to the stairs.
"Mama! Mama, help!" the voice called louder.
"I'm coming," Michaela replied, struck by how much the desperate cries of the child resembled the calls of her own little ones when they were afraid and wanted her. She hurried up the stairs and opened the door to Dalton and Isaiah's room.
Dalton was sitting up in bed in tears, stretching his arms toward her distraughtly. His older brother slept soundly beside him, a cool cloth lying across his feverish brow.
"Shh, shh," Michaela whispered, taking Dalton in her arms and gently hugging him. "It's all right. You're all right, sweetheart."
"Where's my mama?" he asked, burying his head against Michaela's shoulder.
"She went home for a few hours to look after your other brothers and sisters," Michaela explained. "She'll be back soon. I promise. What happened? Did you have a bad dream?"
"No," he whispered, resting back against his pillows. "I was coughin' and I choked. I got scared."
Michaela rubbed his chest sympathetically. "That's the pneumonia. Often lying down can aggravate it."
Dalton raised his brow in confusion as she picked up the teacup resting on the night table and sat on the bed, wrapping her arm around his back.
"No, no more tea," he protested. "It's so awful. No, Dr. Mike."
"I know, sweetheart. I know it doesn't taste very good but it's going to help you stop coughing. Just try." She held it to his lips and the little boy reluctantly swallowed.
Michaela stroked his coarse dark hair and held him warmly as he continued to take small sips of the tea. "You remind me of my little boy, Dalton," she remarked with a smile. "He never hesitates to tell me if I feed him something he doesn't like. 'Yucky,' he'll call it."
"You got a boy like me? Really?" he asked, glancing up at her.
"Yes, he's about your age," Michaela replied. "He's just starting school. Are you in school?"
Dalton nodded enthusiastically. "Miz Grace is my teacher. I'm learnin' to read. I can read boat and wagon. Miz Grace is smart. She knows the answers to all the questions I acks her."
"Byron's learning to read, too," Michaela replied, her smile fading as she thought about how much she missed the little boy and everyone else as well.
"Maybe he can come over to my house and play with me," Dalton said. "I can share my toys with him."
"Oh, sweetheart. I'm afraid he's not even in Colorado Springs at the moment. But perhaps you two could meet sometime," Michaela said. "Perhaps...he and my other children could visit soon," she went on hopefully.
Dalton pushed the cup away. "No more tea now. It's yucky."
Michaela chuckled and placed the cup back on the table. "All right. Do you feel better?"
"A little," he murmured. "Dr. Mike, will you sit here with me until I fall asleep again?"
"Oh, of course," Michaela whispered, stroking his hot forehead soothingly. "Close your eyes. It's all right, Dalton. I'm here."
continue