by Becky

Michaela dished up some more eggs onto Sully, Brian and the children's plates. Then she returned to the stove and put the pan on the back burner.

"Does anyone want more toast?" she asked.

"Michaela, sit down an' eat," Sully said as he took a bite of eggs. "We're fine."

"I already ate," she said dismissively.

"Ya did? When?" he asked.

"When you were doing the chores," she said, averting her eyes.

Brian shared a skeptical glance with Sully. He had been in the house most of the morning helping his mother take care of Elizabeth, and he hadn't seen her eat a thing.

Sully took a sip of coffee. "Your stomach hurtin' again?"

"Hey, did you throw up?" Byron asked curiously, shoveling his last bite of eggs into his mouth.

"Shh, of course not," she scolded. She cleared his plate and rinsed it in the sink.

"I'll do the dishes, Ma," Brian offered, getting up with his plate and coffee cup. "It's gettin' late. You'd better head into town."

"Yes, you're right. Get your schoolbooks and go say goodbye to your grandmother," Michaela instructed the children.

Red Eagle grabbed a muffin for the road and Katie quickly ate the last of her eggs while Byron ran off to the sitting room to hug Elizabeth.

Sully stood and watched Michaela wipe down the counter.

"You sure you're all right?" he murmured at last.

"I'm fine," she replied, glancing at him and putting the cloth aside. "Let's head to town."

"Here ya go, Sully. That's four glass panes specially cut to size. Comes to two dollars fifty cents." Loren pulled out a long piece of brown paper and tore it off, then carefully placed the glass inside and began wrapping it.

Sully reached into his pocket and counted out the amount from the cash Elizabeth had given him. Normally he never would have taken Elizabeth's money, but he had gone along with her insistence that she pay for any supplies he needed for her room. She was going to be a member of the household now, and he didn't feel it was any kind of insult to his pride when she wanted to contribute her share of the expenses.

Loren took the money from him. "Oh, the boots are yours too."

"What boots?" Sully asked. "I didn't order any boots."

Loren nodded at the end of the counter. Sully followed his gaze, suddenly noticing a brand new pair of sturdy brown leather boots his size.

"There must be some mistake," Sully said.

Loren unraveled a long piece of twine. "No mistake. Elizabeth bought them for you. They're yours."

"Why would she do that?"

"Maybe because she saw what you're wearin' now," Loren replied with a chuckle.

Sully glanced at his feet self-consciously. He had bought his current pair of boots before Katie was even born. He had worn them practically every day and it was a wonder they were still managing to stay together, though barely. The sole was coming off, exposing his sock and often getting it wet and muddy. He had to admit he badly needed a new pair. But with so many other things Michaela and the children needed too, he had kept putting it off. He was embarrassed Elizabeth had taken the initiative to get him a new pair. Paying for supplies to build her room was one thing, but he didn't want her paying for things he personally needed.

Sully looked back up uncomfortably. "Loren, I can't take those."

"But she already bought 'em!"

"Just, give her her money back," Sully said, picking up the glass.

"If you ask me you should just take 'em. Those are good quality boots. And I gave her a discount, too. I don't give just anybody a discount."

Sully didn't reply and walked out of the store, carefully laying the panes in the back of the wagon. He glanced at the store and sighed, still smarting about Elizabeth trying to buy him some boots. He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed over to the clinic, knocking firmly on the door.

Michaela was sitting at her desk, face buried in her hands and breathing deeply as she tried to convince her stomach that she could make it through the morning without throwing up. She looked up at the knocking and quickly opened the nearest textbook on her desk, pretending to study it.

"Come in," she called.

Sully opened the door and shut it behind him. "Ya busy?"

She rested her hands in her lap. "No. I don't have an appointment until ten. Did the glass come in?"

"Yeah. And that's not the only thing that come in."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you know your ma bought me a new pair of boots?"

"She did? No, I had no idea."

He folded his arms crossly. "She had no right."

Michaela glanced at his feet, swallowing. "Well, perhaps she noticed that you really need them."

"I can buy my own boots," he said impatiently.

"Yes, after we buy a new wagon and fix the roof and get the children and I new shoes ourselves. I know you. You always put yourself last. At this rate you won't get yourself a new pair until your socks are touching the ground."

"Michaela, we agreed she'd contribute ten dollars the beginning of each month. And that she'd pay for any supplies I needed to build her room. No more, no less. I don't want her doin' things like this." He shook his head and leaned against her desk. "I ain't gonna let her make a habit of this. Next thing we know she'll be payin' for everything. Ya promised me she wasn't gonna do this."

He glanced at her, suddenly pausing. She was closing her eyes and pressing one hand to her stomach.

"What's the matter? Michaela?"

"Nothing," she murmured, opening her eyes and struggling to smile.

"You're sick to your stomach," he said resolutely.

"I'll be fine. I'll just take some bicarbonate." She rose and walked carefully to her cabinet.

"You don't think ya picked up somethin' at that poorhouse in Boston, do ya?" he asked worriedly.

"No, I doubt it."

"Michaela, there's a lotta things goin' around there. Things like worms."

"I don't have worms, Sully," she retorted, taking down the bottle of bicarbonate and uncorking it. "I'm always so careful to wash my hands and all my instruments any time I examine someone. Especially when I visit Boston's slums."

"I ain't sayin' ya didn't clean up."

"It sounds like you are. It sounds like you're trying to blame this on me."

"Don't be silly. I'm just tryin' to figure out what's wrong with ya."

"You needn't concern yourself."

"I'm sorry but you're my wife and I'm gonna be concerned. You ain't been yourself ever since we left Boston."

She spooned some bicarbonate into a glass and mixed it with a little water, then swallowed it down with a small grimace. "I think it's just a little case of food poisoning. Unfortunately that can last weeks."

"How come none of us got sick? We were all eatin' the same thing."

She eyed him with frustration. "I don't know, Sully, all right? Doctors don't know everything."

He stepped back, sensing one of her moods coming on. He wasn't sure he had the strength to contend with Elizabeth's underhanded gift, and Michaela in a bad mood, too. "I, uh, I better get back to the homestead. Put that glass in."

"Fine," she replied, putting the paregoric back on her shelf.

"What do ya say ya go upstairs and lay down for a little bit before that appointment at ten? Ya got time." He let out his breath. "No shame in bein' tired, Michaela. We're all workin' hard here."

She reluctantly nodded. "I'll try."

He strolled over to her and gave the back of her head a gentle kiss. "Ya can always leave early if ya start feelin' real sick, all right? I won't fault ya for it."

She smiled softly. "I'll see you later."

"See ya," he replied, leaning forward to kiss her cheek reassuringly and then heading out the door.

Brian stopped chopping wood and waved at Sully as he pulled the wagon up to the porch.

"Hey, Pa," he called.

Sully jumped down from the seat and walked briskly to the back, slamming the back end of the wagon down and sliding the wrapped glass panes out.

"Pa?" Brian murmured.

Sully handed them to Brian. "Take these panes around to the side of the house. I gotta talk to your gran'ma." He ascended the porch steps, brow fixed, and opened the front door.

"Pa, wait, Gran'ma's sleeping-" Brian called.

"Elizabeth!" Sully said firmly, shutting the door, crossing the room and approaching her bed.

Elizabeth opened her eyes with a start, looking up at him. "Sully! I was having a pleasant dream. I hope this is important."

"Loren just tried to give me a new pair of boots. Says you paid for 'em."

"Oh, those. I nearly forgot."

"What's this all about? I didn't ask for boots."

Elizabeth glanced at his feet with disgust. "Well, you should have. Just look at the pair you have on now. Exactly how old are they anyway? You've probably had those since before Michaela ever even heard of Colorado Springs."

"It ain't been that long and that ain't the point."

"Indeed, the point is Michaela's husband and my grandchildren's father is walking around town dressed like a beggar and he is an embarrassment to all of them, not to mention me, so I decided it was high time I put a stop to it."

Sully looked back at her, not knowing where to begin. "Look, this ain't part of our agreement. We agreed ten dollars a month. And that ten dollars is to cover your expenses, not mine."

She waved one hand. "Oh, that. Well, we never said I couldn't buy you some boots, did we? And besides, we don't have a contract."

"I'll make a contract if I have to. Put it in writin."

She chuckled. "Oh, Sully, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. It's one pair of boots. Just take them and be done with it." She sighed. "If I don't buy those for you you'll never get a new pair. You'll put yourself last."

He paused. "Michaela said the same thing."

"How is she today?"

"What do you mean? She's fine."

"She was ill this morning. I heard her. Perhaps she's managed to fool you but she can't fool me."

He folded his arms. "She thinks she got some kind of food poisonin' in Boston."

"Food poisoning? That's absurd. Where would she contract such a thing?" She shook her head resolutely. "No, it's not that. It's not that at all."

"Then what is it?"

"Haven't you noticed something different about her lately? Her hair, her skin?"

He shrugged. "Looks the same to me."

"Men can be so obtuse," Elizabeth griped. "If you ask me I think she's in the family way. Of course she looked at me like I'm senile when I suggested it, no matter I've been afflicted myself five times and consider myself an expert on such matters."

"Family way," he murmured in disbelief. "What do ya mean? How?"

"How!" she exclaimed. "Well, I should certainly think the way the two of you locked yourselves away in her bedroom in Boston by eight o'clock every night might have had something to do with it!"

"I know how," he said impatiently. "I just mean….I thought…we thought she couldn't."

"Apparently you thought wrong."

He slowly shook his head, unable to comprehend it. Elizabeth had little idea how much they had wanted to have another baby after Jack had passed on. They had tried so diligently for so long. In hindsight, he sometimes wished he had never suggested trying to have a baby. Michaela had never really seemed all that hopeful about it, all their efforts to improve their chances only served to make her anxious and unable to enjoy herself when they were together, and sometimes he wondered if she had only agreed to it to please him. And he had never counted on it not working, or thought about how Michaela would cope with that after they had just lost their little boy.

Only a few months ago Michaela had tearfully told him she couldn't bear being disappointed anymore, and that she wanted to stop trying and move on with their lives. He had readily agreed, secretly heartbroken that it hadn't happened, but unwilling to put Michaela through such turmoil anymore. He couldn't believe that after all that, she could suddenly become pregnant without calculating every aspect of her cycle with her calendar and timing when they made love so scientifically and faithfully taking the herbs Cloud Dancing had promised them would help. Besides, Michaela seemed rather confident she was beginning to go through the change in life and was getting so many of those hot flushes lately, he had bought into it without question. She had certainly never given him any indication it might be due to something else.

"No, it can't be that," he finally said.

"Fine, don't listen to me. You never did anyway."

"I ain't takin' those boots, Elizabeth," he said firmly.

"Sully, let me ask you something," Elizabeth began. "If you weren't building my room yourself, how much would it cost to hire a foreman to do it?"

"What's that got to do with it?" he retorted.

"It's just, you refuse to let me pay you for all your time and hard work on that room. Certainly you're skilled services are worth at least a pair of boots, wouldn't you say?"

"Elizabeth, you're my mother-in-law. It don't feel right havin' ya pay me for my time."

"Doesn't," she said impatiently. "And it doesn't feel right to me either not seeing to it you have a proper pair of boots on your feet while you work."

Sully couldn't remember ever being more frustrated with Michaela's mother. Arguing with her was as useless as it had ever been. He dropped his hands at his sides with a big sigh and walked to the door.

"Sully?" Elizabeth called.

He opened the door and slammed it behind him, too angry to face her any longer.

Michaela padded down the stairs in her nightgown and bathrobe, following the light into the kitchen. She found Sully at the kitchen table, hunched over a sheet of paper, writing something on it with a pen.

"There you are. It's late. Come up and keep me warm?" She slid onto the bench beside him.

"In a minute," he muttered, dipping his pen in the inkwell.

"What are you working on?" she asked, glancing at the paper.

"A contract."

"Contract? What kind of contract?" She glanced at the paper. "'Elizabeth Quinn agrees to pay Byron Sully the sum of ten dollars on the first of every month for as long as she resides in his household.'" She looked at him in disbelief. "Sully, she's my mother. Do you think she's not going to pay?"

"Course not. I'm just worried she's gonna pay too much. I'm gonna put in here she ain't allowed to pay more than ten."

"This is ridiculous."

"It ain't ridiculous. We shoulda done this from the beginnin'."

"Is this about the boots?" she asked. "Mother wasn't trying to offend you. Why can't you just accept them as a gift?"

"I told you why. I take those boots and I'm lettin' her know it's all right to do things like that. I'm givin' her permission. 'Fore we know it she'll be dressin' me from head to toe."

"I didn't know giving your loved ones gifts was such a terrible thing."

"It's the way she did it, behind my back. Givin' Loren money for 'em without askin' me and tellin' me I look like a beggar."

She chuckled softly. "She said that?"

He eyed her sternly and she immediately quieted.

She swallowed hard, watching as he wrote. "Do you want her to go back to Boston?" she whispered.

He slowly put down his pen and shifted to face her. "No. Course not."

"But she's made you so upset," she murmured.

"Michaela, she's healin' out here. She's gettin' well. That's what matters. We'll figure out everything else, in time." He smiled softly. "I guess it's a sign she's feelin' her old self when she's interferin' in everybody's business again."

She smiled. "Well, I suppose putting down our agreement in writing might not be such a bad idea. Just to make sure we all understand each other."

He nodded, picking up his pen again.

She rubbed his back. "Can I make you some coffee?"

He gazed at her tenderly. He could tell she was tired, but she was always so ready to attend to him and take care of him. As much as he tended to dote on her at times, she was just as thoughtful and loving to him. "Sure. Thanks."

She rose and walked to the stove, opening the damper. He turned in his seat to watch her, thinking back to what Elizabeth had said about her looking different lately. Michaela always looked beautiful to him. It was hard for him to see the subtle changes Elizabeth claimed were there. Curious, he walked to the stove and stood behind her, studying her hair and trying to gauge whether it did indeed look different, perhaps a little thicker and shinier. He finally reached out and gathered some of it in his hand, squeezing it.

Michaela suddenly turned and he quickly snatched his hand away.

"Sully, what on earth are you doing?"

"Nothin'," he murmured. "I wanted to see your hair."

"My hair?" She raised her eyebrows. "Why are you looking at me so strangely? You're making me nervous. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. I love you."

"I think you're sleep deprived. You should go to bed," she replied wryly.

"Ya don't have to wait up for me."

"That's all right. I want to." She turned back to the stove and put the kettle on a burner.

"Thank you," he whispered, squeezing her shoulder lovingly.

Michaela rinsed her mouth with a few handfuls of water, then patted her face dry with a towel. She was glad Sully was already up and outside, putting the finishing touches on her mother's room. He would be concerned if he knew she had been ill again.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Despite feeling so sick lately, she looked fine. Her skin was healthy and rosy and her face was perhaps a little fuller. She thought back pensively. Two months now since her last monthly in Boston. She had been putting off seeing Andrew about her strange symptoms, too self-conscious that it was all simply an indication of the change in life and nothing more. She certainly didn't want to discuss that with Andrew, or anyone for that matter. She didn't even feel comfortable talking to Sully, even given how supportive and reassuring he had been about it. Certain things still made her shy, and for some reason she felt as private as her mother or her sisters when it came to this. She thought it was probably going to take her a good while before she could warm up to discussing it a bit more with Sully and perhaps, at some point, Dorothy. But when the waistline of her skirt suddenly began to feel snug the other day, she began to wonder if her original suspicions were completely off base. Perhaps it wasn't the change at all.

"It can't be," she said in disbelief, shaking her head.

She walked to the bed and lay back down, raising her knees slightly and shifting up her nightgown to expose her belly. She really needed a doctor to give her a pelvic exam to be absolutely certain, but she knew at eight weeks she should be able to tell for herself just by feeling. That is, if her suspicions were correct.

She took a deep breath and guided her hands slowly to her belly. Brow fixed, she pressed down gently. She immediately encountered her rather swollen uterus. She was so surprised she withdrew her hands, letting out her breath. Then finally she gathered courage and returned her hands to her belly, gently pressing all around the strong muscle.

She slowly dropped her hands to her side and sat up, resting her feet on the floor and gazing forward, stunned. Her uterus was about the size of a large fist and was already causing her belly to bulge out a bit, just below her navel. It was exactly the right size it should be given that her last monthly was two months ago, and everything felt normal.

"I'm pregnant," she murmured aloud.

She was too shocked to know how to react. Before she could begin to sort out her feelings Sully pounded up the stairs and entered the room, sweaty from work.

"Good, ya woke up. Think ya could make me some eggs?"

She looked up at him, blinking slowly.

He suddenly noticed her damp brow and rather troubled expression. "Michaela, what's wrong? Ya get one of them hot flushes again?"

"I, um…yes," she stammered. She didn't want to tell him just now of her discovery, she in her nightclothes and he dirty and perspiring from work. She wanted it to be a little more memorable. And part of her was afraid to tell him, though she didn't know why. She was certain he was going to be thrilled.

He clutched her arm. "I'm sorry. Ya wanna take a cool bath? What should I do?"

"No, I'm fine," she replied, standing up. "Let me make you those eggs."

"Close your eyes, Gran'ma," Byron said. "Don't peek."

"They're closed," Elizabeth said with a soft smile.

Brian and Sully carried Elizabeth on a stretcher into her new room. It smelled wonderful, of fresh wood and wildflowers and clean sheets. It was all she could do not to look. Michaela turned the covers back on the bed and Sully and Brian carefully lifted Elizabeth onto the mattress.

The children stood at the foot of the bed, all smiles.

"Now open!" Byron exclaimed.

Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes, looking around the large room. She was sitting in a large bed from the clinic in the middle of the room. To her left was a long window overlooking the mountains. There was a nightstand on both sides of the bed with her needlepoint and several books, a wardrobe on the other side of the room to hold all her clothes, and a long table for Michaela to put basins and medicines and other medical supplies. There were several chairs and a settee so when visitors came they would be comfortable.

Elizabeth found herself fixated on the window. "Oh, look at that view."

"Best view in the house," Sully remarked.

Byron climbed up onto the settee and stood, pointing out the window. "You can see the barn from here, Gran'ma. Look! You can watch me do my chores!"

"Byron, get down from there, young man," Michaela scolded. "Don't put your boots on my furniture!"

He quickly jumped down and Elizabeth chuckled at his antics.

"What do you think, Gran'ma?" Katie asked.

"Yeah, do you like it?" Red Eagle added.

She smiled, gazing at her beaming grandchildren. Tears appeared in her eyes. "I think it's wonderful. Thank you. To all of you. All of you worked so very hard for my sake. Especially you, Sully."

Sully put his arm around Michaela. Elizabeth was a woman who could be hard to please. He had hoped she would like the room, but he had never expected her to become so emotional.

"You're welcome," he murmured, squeezing Michaela's shoulder.

Michaela sat in bed and flipped slowly through a medical catalogue, mentally making a note of what she needed to order. She was low on tongue depressors, cotton swabs, and hospital gowns, and she had been saving for months now for a new thermometer that was smaller than the one she had and could record a patient's temperature faster.

Sully finished washing at the basin and then joined her in bed, cuddling her to him. "Your ma had a pretty good day I'd say," he remarked. "She musta been sitting up for hours without gettin' tired."

"It's her new room," she said proudly.

"Glad she likes it," he remarked. "She's doin' better already."

"That's why I pulled out this catalogue," Michaela replied, flipping back a few pages. "I wanted to look at the wheelchairs. I think she's ready."

He nodded. "We could start takin' her on walks, take her places if she had a wheelchair."

"They're terribly expensive. I had no idea," she murmured. "And it says here it takes ten weeks to ship from St. Louis. That's so long."

"Let me see that," he said, taking the catalogue from her and gazing at the drawings of the wheelchairs pensively. "Michaela, I think I could make that. And I could do it in a lot less time than ten weeks."

She brightened. "You really think you could?"

"Looks like they use wicker," he remarked. "I'd make it from wood, it'd be stronger. We could fit a cushion on the seat so it would be soft on her. And maybe I could build a foot rest somehow so her legs don't get tired. I'll ask Brian to help. We'd have it done in no time."

"Oh, Sully. That would be perfect."

He smiled softly. "I'll start tomorrow."

She closed the catalogue, never more grateful for everything he was doing to make her mother more comfortable. "I love you."

He put the catalogue aside and drew her into her arms, kissing her as he worked his hand across her belly and up her chest to stroke and caress her breasts. Michaela opened her eyes and inhaled sharply, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Wait. Don't," she murmured, grasping his wrist.

He immediately withdrew his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Just, just don't touch me there. Not right now."

He raised his eyebrows. "But…ya always liked it."

She bit her lip shyly. "It's not that I don't like it. I'm a little sore, that's all."

"Sore? What do ya mean? Why?"

"I don't know. I just am."

He paused a long moment. "You're sick to your stomach, you're tired all the time, and now your breasts hurt? Sounds kinda familiar to me."

She tentatively brought her hand to her abdomen. "I'm not oblivious. I've been wondering about all these symptoms for awhile."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Why didn't ya say somethin'?" he breathed.

She met his eyes tearfully. "I don't know."

"Ya get your monthly yet?"

She shook her head. "I'm late."

"How late?" he questioned.

"A lot late," she whispered timidly.

"Tomorrow mornin' I'll take ya to see Andrew."

"No. No, I don't need to," she whispered. "Besides, I want to keep it quiet. At least for a little while. Please, Sully?"

"You sayin' you're sure about this?" he whispered back, the hope in his eyes moving her to tears.

She brought his hand down low on her abdomen, guiding it with hers. "Press down a little. It's all right, you won't hurt me. Us."

He obeyed, concentrating hard on what he was feeling as he slowly narrowed his brow.

She glanced at him. "That's the uterus. It's larger than it normally is. A little larger than a baseball right now. Can you feel that?"

"Yeah, I think so," he murmured in awe. He glanced up. "What about all those hot flushes you been gettin'?"

"And the night sweats? It's never happened to me before, but every pregnancy's different."

"Then it's normal?"

"Perfectly normal," she murmured reassuringly. She stroked the back of his hand. "I was going to cook you a special supper, just the two of us. Tell you then."

"That's all right. I'm glad ya told me now." He chuckled softly. "I guess we were spendin' a lot of time in your bedroom in Boston. Musta been near every night for awhile there. Mornings, too, remember?"

"Sully," she whispered sternly.

"A baby," he murmured, gazing at her lovingly and gently rubbing her belly. "Here we been tryin' so long, then as soon as we stop thinkin' about it, it happens."

"I know. I can't believe it," she replied hoarsely. She suddenly chuckled, shaking her head. "I can't believe I thought it was the change. I had a big serious talk with Rebecca about it. I'm so embarrassed."

He gently pecked her lips. "Guess you're right, doctors don't know everything."

She glanced at him and inhaled nervously.

"What's the matter? Ain't this…ain't this what ya want?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know how to feel about this. I had completely accepted this wasn't going to happen again. I stopped wishing, praying. We moved on."

"Guess we're gonna have a change of plans."

"Oh, Sully. I want to be happy about it. I'm just…I'm frightened I suppose."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. I don't feel good about it. Like something might go wrong. I'm afraid to get my hopes up. I suppose that's why I didn't say anything. It's as if once I acknowledge it, it won't be true anymore."

"Hey, you're healthy. Had three healthy babies. No reason everything won't be just fine."

"Just the same please let's try to keep it quiet. Let's not tell everyone just yet."

"Gonna be hard keepin' news like this quiet."

"But you will, won't you?" she whispered. "I'd feel so much better."

He caressed her head lovingly. "Course we'll keep it quiet. If that's what ya want."

"Except for the children. I want to tell them. And my mother of course. Besides, I think she already knows."

"I think so, too. Your ma don't miss anything, does she?" he replied with a wry grin.

"No, not much."

"Nothin's gonna go wrong, Michaela," he said reassuringly, wrapping his arm around her lovingly. "It's like what ya always say about your ma. Ya gotta think positive."

"Think positive," she repeated, snuggling up against him.

He kissed her head, content to just hold her and bask in the good news.

"You'll be able to be so much more independent once Sully builds you a wheelchair," Michaela said as she sat beside Elizabeth and showed her the medical catalogue.

"I fail to see how being confined to a wheelchair somehow makes me more independent," Elizabeth said glumly.

"Because, Mother, you'll be able to go places. You won't be stuck here in bed all day. We can take you into town, to church, you could even come to work with me." She bit her lip. "You know, the children have that poetry reading coming up at school next month. And I know they want nothing more than for their grandmother to be there."

Elizabeth slowly closed the catalogue. "Well, I suppose it would be nice to go to that." She sighed. "I just never imagined I would someday have to use a wheelchair. I feel like I'm just some pathetic version of my former self."

Michaela grasped her hand reassuringly. "You're still as sharp as ever. You haven't lost that. Sully says you don't miss a thing."

She glanced at her, confused. "Why did Sully say that?"

She smiled softly. "Because you knew I was pregnant even before we did."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped. "Oh, Michaela! Then it's true?"

"Yes. I think I'm about eight weeks."

Elizabeth beamed, leaning forward and drawing her into a warm hug. "I knew it. I just knew it. Oh, how wonderful."

"Wonderful? You said we don't have room for a baby."

"Never mind what I said. More importantly have you told the children? They're going to be thrilled."

"We'll tell them tonight. But we'd like to keep it quiet. Not tell anyone else just yet. Just family."

Elizabeth pulled back. "Oh, I see. Well, that's understandable. Yes, no need to announce it to the world just yet." She squeezed her hand. "Eight weeks, hm? You know what that means? My grandchild was conceived in Boston. She's practically a Bostonian already. She's sure to be more like our side of the family."

"I'm not so sure Sully wants that," she replied wryly.

Elizabeth eyed her worriedly. "How are you feeling? No wonder you've seemed so green lately. I just knew it was this. You ought to listen to your mother more often."

"Morning sickness every single day, ever since we left Boston."

"Oh, I had that the entire time when I was carrying you. I don't know how I survived it. Your poor father. He said he'd never seen anything like it."

"The entire time?" Michaela said with trepidation.

"Oh, well, I'm sure it'll go away before you know it." She thought a moment. "Michaela, I know how much is involved with caring for me. I hate to see you working so hard in your condition. And the way you have to wake up in the middle of the night for my sake. You need your rest."

"Sully said he'll help. He's not going to go away to work until after the baby's born. He's going to stay home and look after you so I can get all the rest I need. He wants this to work, Mother. He says there's no reason you can't still live with us. This doesn't change anything."

"Really," she murmured. "My goodness."

"In fact we're grateful you're here," she added. "You can look after the children. I remember how tiring it was when I was pregnant with Jack when Sully and Brian weren't home and I had no one to help me with them. I was done in at the end of every day."

"Yes of course I'll help. Anything I can do to make this easier for you."

"And you have another reason to get better now, Mother. You've got a new grandchild to meet."

Elizabeth slowly nodded, smiling softly. "Yes, indeed," she murmured. "Yes, indeed."

Katie stood on tiptoe and stacked the last plate on the shelf. Brian and Sully were finishing drying the cups and Michaela was washing the countertops with a cloth.

"We finished sweeping," Byron announced as he walked into the kitchen with a broom, Red Eagle on his heals with a dustpan.

"Thank you for helping to clean up," Michaela said.

"Can you play checkers with me, Papa?" Byron asked, leaning the broom against the wall. "It's not bedtime yet."

"Yeah, in a minute," Sully said, smoothing back the little boy's hair. "There's somethin' we gotta talk about first."

Michaela took a deep breath in anticipation and put her arm around Katie. "Let's sit at the table."

"What'd I do this time?" Byron asked with trepidation.

"Oh, sweetheart, nothing," Michaela said with a smile. "You're not in trouble."

He beamed. "Oh. Good!"

She guided the children to the dining room table and they sat down. Brian sat on the edge of the table and folded his arms.

"We're really going to need your help and cooperation over the next several months," Michaela began nervously as Sully put his arm around her.

"Cause Gran'ma's in bed?" Red Eagle spoke up.

"Well, yes. But that's not the only reason." Michaela glanced at Sully and took a deep breath. "Your papa and I…I know this comes as a surprise but, well, we….we, you see I, he and I-"

The children looked up at her curiously, watching her struggle to find the words.

Sully chuckled softly. "What your ma's tryin' to say is she's gonna have a baby. You're gonna have a new brother or sister come about seven months from now."

Katie screeched and leaped up from her chair. "We are?!"

"Yippie!" Byron added. "I hope it's a boy!"

Brian immediately stood up and hugged his mother. "Oh, Ma. That's great."

"It's not going to be a boy. It's going to be a girl," Katie said intrepidly. "Mama wants a girl."

"No she doesn't. What would she want a girl for?" Byron retorted. "Mama wants a boy."

"Mama wants a word in edgewise!" Michaela said with a laugh. "Whatever the baby is we'll love him or her."

Byron giggled and got up to hug his parents. Katie quickly followed suit. Red Eagle watched them hesitantly. At last he reluctantly got up and gave Michaela a gentle hug, sensing that's what everyone expected of him. Michaela noticed the little boy's uncertainty, but she decided now was not a good time to press him about it.

"Mama?" Katie spoke up. "Do you think Jack's happy we're getting a new brother or sister?"

Michaela swallowed hard. Sully reached his hand out to tenderly squeeze her shoulder.

"Yes, I know he is," she murmured.

"Wish he was here," Byron added in a whisper.

"Me, too, sweetheart," Michaela replied. "I want you to know having a new baby won't change how we feel about Jack. The baby isn't going to replace anyone. We'll always miss Jack and love him."

"Maybe Jack sent the new baby," Byron suggested. "He figured that would make us feel better."

"Oh," Michaela murmured, overwhelmed. "Yes, I'd like to think so." She hugged Byron and Katie to her tightly and looked up at Sully with a tearful, but hopeful smile.

Michaela pulled down a sheet from the clothesline and folded it as Byron squatted nearby her with his reader closed, looking up at the sky pensively.

"There's a neat….little clock," he began uncertainly. "And it points to the time…" He let out an impatient sigh and opened his book to look at the poem again. "I'll never remember all of this."

"Just keep reading it out loud," Michaela suggested helplessly.

"That doesn't work, Mama," he protested.

"You're not really trying. It's not going to happen unless you try hard."

"Red Eagle already knows his. So does Katie. They didn't try hard."

She dropped the sheet in the laundry basket and pulled down a few clothes. "Don't worry about Red Eagle and Katie. Worry about Byron."

"Can you help me?" he pleaded.

"Maybe after supper. I still have all this laundry to bring in and fold. Why don't you go inside where it's quiet and work on it there?"

"All right," he muttered, standing up and trudging to the back door with his reader in tow. He opened the door and slammed it in frustration, then shuffled past Elizabeth's room to the kitchen table.

"Byron, is that you?" Elizabeth called from her room.

Byron walked to her doorway dejectedly and sighed. Elizabeth was working on her needlepoint, her spectacles low on her nose.

"Good heavens, why the long face?" she asked.

He joined her at the bed. "I'm trying to learn the poem my teacher gave me for the poetry reading. But I can't get it. I guess I must be just dumb."

"Dumb! No Quinn has ever been dumb," Elizabeth admonished. "And you certainly are not going to be the first." She held out her hand. "Let me see the poem."

He opened his book to the page and handed it to her. She pushed her spectacles up on her nose and quickly read the short poem, nodding. "Byron, I know you can memorize this. The trick is to learn one section at a time. Don't worry about learning all of it at once." She patted her mattress. "Come sit by me."

Byron crawled up beside her and she put her arm around him, pointing at the words. "Read the first sentence."

"There's a neat little clock, in the schoolroom it stands," he read, "and it points to the time with its two little hands."

"Now, close your eyes and say that," she instructed.

He closed his eyes. "There's a neat little clock, in the schoolroom it stands, and it points to the time with its two little hands." He opened his eyes, thrilled. "I did it, Gran'ma!"

She beamed. "You certainly did. I'm proud of you. Now you're going to repeat just that sentence over and over for the next few days until you've got it down cold. Then we'll work on the rest."

He hugged her. "Thanks, Gran'ma."

She kissed him, smiling. She glanced at the ceiling. "Byron, does Sarah always go up to Brian's room when she comes to visit?"

He shrugged, opening his book disinterestedly. "I guess so."

"Would you do your grandmother a big favor and I'll let you have a cookie before supper?"

"A cookie? Sure, what?" he asked.

"Go up there and open his door a crack and see what they're doing. Don't let them see you."

He handed her his book and hopped down from the bed.

"Remember, be very quiet," Elizabeth added.

He nodded and walked softly up the stairs to Brian's room. He carefully grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly, opening his door enough to peek inside. He wrinkled up his face at the sight of Sarah and Brian sitting at his desk, immersed in a deep kiss. Satisfied he had seen enough, he closed it and pounded back down the stairs.

"Can I get my cookie now?" he asked, rushing into Elizabeth's room.

"What were they doing?" she asked.

"They were kissin'! Yuck!"

"I knew it," she muttered. "Yes, go get your cookie. Well done."

Byron beamed and rushed to the cookie jar in the kitchen just as Michaela entered the house from the back door, the laundry basket balanced on her hip. She entered the kitchen, stopping short.

"Hold it, young man," Michaela said firmly. "What's that you have there?"

Byron took a big bite of the chocolate cookie. "A cookie."

"A cookie before supper?"

"Gran'ma said I could," he replied innocently, taking another bite.

Michaela placed the laundry basket on the table and entered Elizabeth's room. "Mother, you know how he picks at his supper when he eats this late in the day," she scolded.

"Oh, it's just one cookie," Elizabeth replied, picking up her needlepoint. "You're so strict with him."

"Now you think I'm strict? I thought you've always said Sully and I are too soft."

"I changed my mind. But I'm afraid Byron is the least of my worries. Do you know what your son is doing up there with that young lady friend of his?"

"Brian? Working on something for the Gazette I assume."

"Nothing of the sort. They're kissing."

She cleared her throat. "How do you know that?"

"I had Byron go up and look if you must know. That's what the cookie's for."

"You bribed Byron to spy on them? Mother, you're shameless."

"Michaela, you're missing the point. I can't believe you permit him to have a girl in his room. It's entirely inappropriate. Does her mother know about this?"

Byron stood in the doorway and silently ate his cookie as he listened to his mother and grandmother talk.

"We trust Brian. He's earned the privileges we give him," Michaela said.

"I wouldn't call that a privilege. I call it asking for trouble."

She bit her lip, suddenly concerned. "What, um….what kind of kissing?"

"I don't know. Ask Byron."

"Yucky kissing," he explained. "How come grownups like doin' that stuff, Mama? Doesn't it get wet?"

"Good gracious. You see what he's exposing your young impressionable children to?" Elizabeth said resolutely. "I can just imagine Byron when he's that age with no sense whatsoever of how a young man should behave around a young lady."

"Mother, you're the one who sent Byron up there!" Michaela exclaimed.

"I had to confirm my suspicions. And frankly I'm surprised that's the only thing they were doing. With the kind of freedom you give them, it's only a matter of time before they're embarking on the next step."

She gulped. "Next step?"

"Unless you and Sully do something about this," Elizabeth added. "Rein him in before nature gets the best of him."

"Mother, honestly. He's nineteen years old."

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of!" she replied.

She glanced upward. "I suppose I should check on them."

"Yes. I just hope it's not too late," Elizabeth replied.

Michaela made her way quickly up the stairs to Brian's door. She stood still for a moment, leaning toward it and straining to listen. However she couldn't hear anything save Sully chopping wood outside. She finally knocked on the door.

"Yeah? Come in," Brian called.

She opened his door. Sarah was sitting in a chair beside Brian, both of them writing. Either they had gotten very good at quickly breaking up any kissing they were doing, or they really were working diligently.

"Oh, hey, Dr. Mike," Sarah said sweetly.

"What are you two up to this afternoon?" Michaela asked. She scrutinized Brian, looking for any signs he had just been kissing his sweetheart. She could find nothing. His cheeks weren't even so much as flushed and he was the epitome of calm.

"Nothin' much. Sarah was just helpin' me edit one of my articles," Brian replied evenly.

"Good." She cleared her throat. "Sarah, I was hoping you could help me with supper. I was going to bake a casserole."

She put down her pen. "Oh. Sure, Dr. Mike."

"Can I help, too, Ma?" Brian asked.

"Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you."

He smiled and stood, grasping Sarah's hand and smiling at her lovingly. Michaela averted her eyes uncomfortably and opened his door wider as the couple walked past her, eyes locked and grinning rather animatedly. She raised her eyebrows and followed them down the stairs, not sure what to think.

"Lots of houses in the French quarter were haunted," Sarah said as she finished his pie. "Maybe I've never seen a ghost myself, but lots of me and Mama's friends have over the years."

Red Eagle took a sip of his milk, staring at her in fascination. Byron and Katie leaned forward in their seats and Brian watched them a small grin. The younger children loved Sarah and her stories about where she used to live in New Orleans before moving to Colorado. They were always eager to hear a good ghost story or vampire sighting or tale of someone practicing voodoo.

"There was this one big house on Chartres Street, yellow with big pillars. And everyone said it was haunted by an old Confederate soldier who had died in the war, and that when there's a full moon all the soldiers come out to reenact the Battle of Shiloh. I had to walk past it on my way to school."

"Weren't you scared?" Katie asked, riveted.

"Yes, very. Especially since our house was only a block away. One night I could have sworn I heard canons going off. I covered my head with my pillow."

"Whoa!" Byron exclaimed. "I would have gone to go see."

"No you wouldn't. You'd be too scared," Red Eagle accused.

"I would not!" he protested.

Sarah chuckled. "It's gettin' late. Mama's gonna wonder where I am."

Brian stood, putting his napkin on the table. "I'll drive ya home."

"Bye, Sarah," Red Eagle said.

Byron took another bite of his pie. "Bye-bye, Sarah."

She squeezed his shoulder and then walked to the coat rack where Brian helped her with her shawl.

"Thanks for supper, Dr. Mike," Sarah called.

Michaela turned from the sink where she was washing the supper dishes and Sully was drying. "You're welcome. Thank you for your help with the casserole."

"I'm just gonna take her home," Brian said, putting on his jacket.

"Let me know when ya get back. I'll help ya unhitch the wagon," Sully said.

"Thanks, Pa," Brian said, opening the door and walking outside.

Michaela handed a glass to Sully to dry and casually walked to the window, pulling back the curtain so she could get a good view of Brian giving Sarah a hand up onto the wagon.

"What're ya doin'?" Sully asked, working his towel inside the glass.

"Just checking on them," she replied. She raised her eyebrows. "There, you see. He just kissed her."

"So? We kissed all the time when we were courtin'."

"No we didn't," she protested.

"Uh, yeah, we did."

She sighed as the wagon pulled away. She put back the curtain and returned to the sink, grabbing the sudsy cloth and running it down a plate.

"What's the matter?" he asked, stacking the glass on the shelf. "Brian and Sarah been courtin' a long time now. This is nothing new."

She rinsed the plate and passed it to him. "I'm just not sure we've been handling this correctly, that's all. We give them so much freedom it's only a matter of time before they're embarking on the next step."

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. "That sounds like Elizabeth Quinn talkin'."

"How did you know?" she asked, surprised.

"I been around her enough to know. Figures she'd have an opinion about this. Why wouldn't she?"

"She just doesn't think it's the most appropriate thing the way we allow them to be alone so much. And now that I think about it I'm wondering if she's right. What about all those weeks we spent in Boston? I know she was here. Perhaps we should have asked him not to bring her over until we got home. It never crossed my mind until now."

"Ya mean until your ma butt in."

"She's not butting in. She's just being a concerned grandmother."

He stacked the plate. "I ain't worried. We know Brian a lot better than she does. We can trust him."

"Are we sure we know him? I've certainly never had any kind of real conversation with him about courting. And when's the last time you did?"

"It comes up from time to time."

"When did it last come up?"

He sighed impatiently. "I don't know. Maybe a year ago."

She shook her head. "So much has changed in a year. They're older now. I think they're much more serious than they used to be. I'm worried about what might have happened while we were in Boston. They seem even more enamored with each other since we got home. As if something's changed."

"Now you're imaginin' things. Nothin' happened," he said resolutely. "The only thing that's happened is he's met the right girl for him, knows she's the one now. He's in love, that's all."

She handed him the last plate. "I suppose you're right."

"Just calm down about this. Brian's the last thing we should be worried about. He never gave us trouble. Don't see any reason why he would now."

"You're right, again," she said with a small smile, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the counter. "Well, I better help Mother get ready for bed. Could you get the children headed that way, too?"

"Sure," he replied. "Then maybe we could do some kissin' of our own."

She giggled. "We'll see."

"Who's turn next?" Sully asked as he drove the wagon toward town. "Red Eagle? Why don't ya spell mirror?"

Red Eagle was sitting on the edge of the wagon, his schoolbooks in hand, as he watched Michaela apprehensively. She was about as green as he had ever seen a person look, clutching a small bucket in her lap in case she didn't make it to her clinic before losing it again, and closing her eyes and slowly breathing. She was usually the one talking to the children and engaging them on their drives to school, but today Sully had taken over. She was barely listening to the children as they spelled and instead was just doing her best to keep it together until they got to town.

Sully was loathe to bring her into town, but she insisted on it. Morning sickness was likely going to go on several more weeks, she told him, and she couldn't just shut down the clinic until then. She was adamant that she still go into town like normal and just tough it out.

"Go, Red Eagle," Byron encouraged. "Mirror."

"M-i-r-or," he said absently.

"That has another r, Red Eagle," Katie said helpfully.

"That's a good try," Sully said just as Michaela brought the bucket up, coughing into it and promptly losing the last of her breakfast. He pulled back tightly on the reins, stopping their horse, and laid his hand on her back, gently rubbing it as she panted a moment, then threw up again.

Byron stood up curiously and Katie covered her ears. Meanwhile Red Eagle watched fearfully, eyes welling with tears.

Finally Michaela decided she was done for the moment and wiped her mouth with her handkerchief.

"I'm takin' ya home," Sully said resolutely.

"No, keep going," she replied weakly.

"Uh-oh. Mama, Red Eagle's cryin'," Byron announced.

"I am not!" he quickly said, rubbing away his tears with the back of his arm.

Michaela glanced back briefly. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Don't be frightened. This is all very normal."

"How come you can't stop gettin' sick, Mama?" Byron asked. "Can't you take some tummy medicine?"

Sully glanced back at them and rubbed Michaela's arm. "Sometimes when a lady's got a baby growin' inside her she gets a belly ache."

"Oh. The baby must be growin' a lot 'cause you been gettin' some awful big belly aches!" Byron remarked, clutching the back of the seat.

Sully gathered the reins again and pulled back hard on the right one, clicking his tongue at the horse.

"Sully, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Turnin' the wagon. You're gonna go home and go to bed."

She sighed. "I told you I'm fine."

"Nothin' wrong with takin' a day off. Just for good measure."

"I can't do that."

He looked at her pointedly. "Michaela, please. Just rest today. Do it for us."

"You better rest, Mama," Katie added insistently.

"It's just one day," Red Eagle added. "You'll still have patients when you get back."

She hesitated a long moment, but it seemed she was decidedly outnumbered. "Could you tack a note on the clinic door that says I'll be in tomorrow?"

"Sure I will," Sully replied.

"You're going to make the children late for school if you take me back now," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, we don't mind," Byron said. "We're just gonna miss a little arithmetic."

"Arithmetic, hm?" Michaela reply wryly. "I didn't think you'd mind missing arithmetic. Sit down before you fall, sweetheart."

He giggled and sat back down, clutching his lunch pail as Sully slapping the reins and headed the wagon back home.

"Let Miss Teresa know I'm real sorry you're late," Sully said as he lifted Katie down from the back of the wagon in front of the clinic.

"Should we tell her Mama's sick? Having a baby gives you a belly ache?" Byron asked, jumping over the side of the wagon to the ground.

"Shh, we can't tell anybody," Katie scolded, clutching her slate and lunch pail. "The baby's a secret."

"How long is the baby gonna be a secret, Papa?" Red Eagle asked, slinging his books over his shoulder.

"Awhile yet. We gotta be patient, all right?" Sully replied, caressing his head.

"I don't like secrets," Byron said with a sigh.

"If you tell you're gonna get in big trouble," Katie said.

"I didn't say I would tell," he replied impatiently. "I won't. I just said I don't like it."

Sully reached into the wagon for a small pile of primers. "Byron? How ya plan to learn without these?"

"Oh. Whoops," he said sheepishly, holding his arms out.

Sully handed them over and tousled his hair. "Go on with ya. I'll pick ya up this afternoon."

"Bye, Papa!" Katie called as the three of them raced off toward the schoolhouse.

Sully smiled and waved, then headed to the door and entered Michaela's clinic. He found a pad of her stationary in her desk and a pencil, and quickly scratched a note explaining that she was unavailable but would be back the next day.

Dorothy suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Michaela, join me for some cof-" She clutched her heart. "Sully! Where's Michaela?"

He found a small tack in the desk drawer. "Miss Dorothy. She'll be in tomorrow." He walked to the door and tacked the note to it. Dorothy quickly read it.

"Where is she?" she asked curiously.

"Home. She ain't feelin' well," he said hesitantly.

"Still? It can't still be that train food," she protested.

Sully stepped out onto the porch and shut the door, walking a few steps down the porch and turning to face her. He was just as anxious as the children to tell everyone their news, so thrilled that he was. But he knew that Michaela was reluctant about it and he wanted to respect that. Dorothy picked up right away on his uncertainty.

"Sully, is there somethin' wrong?" she asked. "I'm worried about her."

He sighed, deciding that it would be all right to just tell Dorothy. She was Michaela's best friend, practically family, and he could trust her to keep the news to herself.

"Don't be worried. Truth is she's home with mornin' sickness," he explained quietly. "We're havin' another baby."

Dorothy gasped, eyes lighting up. "Oh, Sully! You are?!" He nodded with a big smile and she immediately drew him into a hug. "Oh, what wonderful news. Congratulations. Congratulations to you both!"

He clutched her tightly. "Thank you."

She pulled back and held his arms. "You know what we should do? We should throw you two a party!"

"No, no. No parties yet," he said with a chuckle. "We ain't tellin' folks yet. I need ya to keep it to yourself."

She smiled. "Oh, all right. I'll force myself to wait. Well, what about you? Do you have time for a quick cup of coffee?"

"S'pose I could."

"Good!" she replied, threading her arm with his.

Sully pulled the wagon up to the porch and jumped down. He spotted Michaela in the garden, busily harvesting some parsnips and putting them in her basket. He took out a small bundle of daisies and other wildflowers he had picked on the side of the road and put them behind his back, then headed to the garden.

"How ya feelin'?" he asked as he approached her.

She glanced up. She was wearing her gardening gloves and an old apron, and she certainly looked a lot less miserable than that morning. "Better."

"Ya eat somethin'?"

"Mother and I had some soup for lunch a few hours ago."

He watched her dig around the soil and then carefully pull up another pale parsnip.

"Sure you're up to workin' in the garden?" he asked.

"My garden doesn't stop growing and needing tending to just because I'm having a baby."

"Just don't want ya workin' too hard."

She looked up with a tender smile. "I won't. This relaxes me."

He squatted down and tenderly put his hand on her back. "Got ya somethin'."

She paused and lowered her trowel as he removed the bundle of flowers from behind his back.

She eyed them distrustfully. "Flowers? Oh."

"Just wanted ya to know how much I'm lookin' forward to this baby. And that I'm sorry you've been so sick." She reluctantly took the flowers, looking back up at him hesitantly. He reached his hand out and caressed her stomach, rubbing it tenderly as he gazed into her eyes. "Nobody's given me a greater gift than those kids of ours. They made our lives so full, so happy. Now you're doin' it all over again. I know it ain't easy and I just wanted to tell ya thank you."

She looked down at the flowers, biting her lip. It worried her to see him get his hopes up like this when she was only barely ten weeks along. But he was gazing at her so adoringly and he was so sincere she couldn't spoil it now.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I mean, you're welcome."

He smiled and kissed her temple.

She grasped the flowers and pulled away ever so slightly, rising to her feet. "I'll just put these in some water. Could you bring in the parsnips?"

He glanced up at her hesitantly, then got to her feet, grabbing her basket and the trowel. Her subdued reaction was not quite what he had expected, but he tried to remember Michaela certainly wasn't feeling her best right now. He couldn't expect her to be very enthusiastic about anything. "Yeah. Sure."

Michaela stood in her nightgown and bathrobe and knocked on Brian's door. She could see the light from his lamp under the door and she could hear him shuffling some papers.

"Yeah? Come in," he called.

Michaela opened the door with a shy smile. Brian was seated at his desk, pen poised over a piece of paper as he quickly crossed out a sentence and replaced it with a new one.

"Hey, Ma. I thought everybody was asleep."

"You're up late. What are you working on?"

"Just want to finish gettin' this article edited before I bring it in to Miss Dorothy tomorrow." He circled a sentence he wasn't sure he liked and wrote a question mark after it. "Oh, I told Sarah she could have supper with us again tomorrow. That all right?"

She strolled over to his desk. "You've been seeing a lot of Sarah lately."

He glanced at her, not quite sure what she meant. "Yeah," he replied, raising his eyebrows.

She bit her lip. "Did you…have you….I was curious, was she over here a lot when we were in Boston?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Sure."

"How often?"

"Ma, is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing," she quickly said. "I just think now that you've gotten so serious with a girl it might be a good idea if we have a talk about all this."

He made a few more notes on his article. "I thought we had this talk when I was ten."

"Well, that was the basics. You're older now, there's a few more things we should discuss."

"I think I already know, Ma," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly and putting down his pen.

"How do you know?" she demanded.

"I don't know. Friends I guess. And Matthew and Sully."

"Oh, of course," she murmured. She leaned against his desk. "It's just, I'm…we're a little concerned about all the time you've been spending with Sarah alone. When Sully and I were courting we both felt….well, there were temptations. It would have been very easy to let our guard down."

Brian looked up at her uncomfortably.

She averted her eyes, cheeks flushing. "I'm just trying to say there were plenty of times when we wished we were already married. Sully and I have been through what you're going through. We understand what you're feeling."

He shifted in his chair. "Ma, I don't really wanna know about you and Sully. No offense."

"Oh," she stammered. "It's just, I-"

"I think you're a little late with all this," Brian said. "But thanks anyway."

"Oh," she murmured. "Well, I'll leave you to write."

"Night, Ma," he said with a soft smile, picking up his pen and going back to work.

Michaela hesitated a moment, then quickly exited the room, shutting his door. She stopped short in the hallway, perplexed.

"I'm a little late," she repeated, eyes widening. She walked briskly to the master bedroom and threw open the door in a panic.

Sully was reading in bed and immediately closed the book, alarmed.

"What does that mean I'm a little late?" Michaela demanded, slamming the door behind her.

"Slow down. What's the matter?"

"I was just trying to talk to Brian about Sarah," she explained.

"How'd this come about? I thought you were goin' to the outhouse."

"I did. But then I saw his light on and I thought perhaps it would be a good time to talk."

"What exactly ya say?"

She approached the bed. "He wouldn't let me say much. I was only trying to explain that you and I have been in his position before. How much we wanted to be together before we were married."

"Wait, ya told him about us?"

"I wanted to let him know we understand where he's coming from."

"Michaela, who wants to think about what their parents do behind closed doors?"

"I wasn't telling him about that for heaven's sake. I was trying to have a serious talk with him about where things stand between him and Sarah. And then he said that I'm too late."

He shrugged. "He just means he already knows everything he needs to know."

"How is that possible? He's nineteen years old and this is the first girl he's ever been serious with."

"I remember when I was nineteen. Between what friends told me and what the other miners talked about, there wasn't much left to the imagination."

"Mother's right. He and Sarah are alone quite often, especially when we were in Boston. Sully, do you think the two of them have….?"

He put his book aside. "You know how much Brian wants to do right by her. He's savin' to support that girl. He wants to have a house built first, and a proper church wedding."

She bit her lip. "Then you don't think they're doing anything improper?"

"I ain't asked him if that's what ya mean."

"Could you ask him?"

"Michaela, you really think this is our business?"

"Of course it is. We're his parents."

"And he's an adult. He's in love, but that don't mean he's not gonna keep makin' smart decisions just like he always has. Michaela, we gotta trust that we raised our son up to know he should do right by the woman he wants to spend his time with. I think they both know they better be prepared for a lotta responsibility when they're ready for that kind of relationship."

"He's a wonderful young man. He respects you and me and he respects Sarah. But it's different when you fall in love." She slowly sat on the bed, reaching her hand out and laying it on his thigh. "Especially once you and I became engaged, sometimes all I could think about was how much I…I wanted to be with you. It was overwhelming at times."

He smiled softly and leaned forward, wrapping one arm around her. "I know. I wanted that, too. But I also knew waitin' until we got married was the best thing to do. Sides, made our weddin' day pretty special, bein' together for the first time. Made me real glad we waited even if it was hard. I'm sure Brian wants that same special feelin' with the woman he marries someday."

"I think that someday is coming very fast," she said dejectedly. "Sully, you have to talk to him about all this. You have to tell him he and Sarah should wait until marriage."

"I ain't doin' that."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Cause like I said, I don't think it's our business." He sighed. "You were never worried until your ma got ya all worked up about this. Ya always trusted Brian before."

"Well, I happen to think she's right about this. What were we thinking allowing them to be alone so much? Who knows what could have happened during all that time."

"And I think your ma's bored sittin' in bed all day, wants to stir things up."

"I don't want them to be alone anymore," she said resolutely. "I don't want her up in his room or out in the barn with him, and if they want to go somewhere together they'll have to have you or me or Mrs. Sheehan go along, too."

"That's gonna go over real well."

"Well, in Boston I never went anywhere with David without a chaperone. And we never questioned it."

"Sure that was a real excitin' courtship," he muttered.

"I'm serious about this, Sully," she replied impatiently. "And I'd appreciate your support."

"You tell him he can't see her and he's gonna be runnin' to that alter even faster than he is now," he warned.

"Or perhaps he'll use this time to really assess where they stand. To think about what he wants out of life, his goals and dreams and how a wife and sooner or later children would fit into that. He's still so young, Sully."

He tenderly caressed her face. "Just don't let bein' scared of lettin' your little boy grow up and move on cause ya to do anything ya regret."

Brian brushed down Taffy vigorously with a currycomb, brow trickling with sweat. Sully was nearby at his workbench, measuring a length of wood for Elizabeth's wheelchair.

"Coyotes got a couple of Sarah's chicks the other day," Brian remarked. "Dug under the henhouse."

"Musta been that pack we been hearin' the past couple nights."

He put a saddle blanket across Taffy's back. "I'm gonna head over early this mornin' before I go into work. See if I can make some repairs."

"How you two doin' these days?"

"Sarah and me? Never better," Brian said.

Sully picked up his crosscut saw. "Brian? If there's anything you ever wanna talk about, you know I'm always here for ya. Ya can always come to me."

Brian hoisted Taffy's saddle across her back. "Thanks, Pa. I will."

Michaela opened the barn door. "Breakfast is ready," she called.

Brain glanced at her. "Thanks, Ma. But I'll get somethin' at Sarah's."

She clutched her shawl around her shoulders. "Oh. You're going to Sarah's this morning?"

He buckled one of the straps on the saddle. "Yeah, gotta take a look at her henhouse. Coyotes got in the other day."

"Brian, um, about Sarah," she began tentatively. "Is her mother going to be home this morning?"

He blinked. "I don't know why she wouldn't be. Why, ya need to tell her somethin'?"

"No, I just, I would prefer she's home when you're over there, that's all."

Sully gradually stopped sawing and met Michaela's eyes. He shook his head ever so slightly in caution, but when Michaela was resolute about something it was hard to stop her.

"Brian, I need to talk to you," she said firmly.

Where One Path Ends Poll

Does Brian need a chaperone? No way, He's far too old for that. I agree wth Elizabeth. There's no telling what he and Sarah are up to. I agree with Sully. We can trust him. He needs 10 chaperones. He and Sarah are definitely doing it. view results

"Can it wait? I'm real pressed for time this mornin'," Brian said as he buckled another strap on Taffy's saddle.

Michaela stepped closer to him. "No, it can't. Brian, Sully and I think you should have a chaperone when you see Sarah."

He paused, straightening. "Chaperone? What do you mean?"

"Well, frankly, we don't want the two of you to be alone."

He blinked. "Oh. Well, we don't need a chaperone, Ma. We're fine."

"I know you don't think you do, but when I was your age courting in Boston having Martha tag along was the best thing for me. It really helped remind me of how important it was to behave properly."

"Well, yeah, but that's Boston, Ma." He grabbed Taffy's reins and led her out of the barn. Michaela followed him and Sully put down his saw and walked behind them.

"Brian, from now on you're not to go over there unless Mrs. Sheehan is around," Michaela said decisively, hurrying to catch up to him. "And I don't want Sarah here unless Sully or I or your grandmother is home. And furthermore, I don’t want her up in your bedroom. If you're working on something you can work on it downstairs."

He wrinkled his brow. "Ma, I do somethin' wrong?"

She cleared her throat. "No. I just, we want to be sure everyone is behaving appropriately, that's all."

"Who's gonna be our chaperone? Who's got time for that?"

"I'm not sure. I'll do it if I have to."

He looked at her skeptically. "You're gonna follow us around everywhere we go?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ma, you're wastin' your time." He mounted his horse. "I gotta go. See ya later."

"Brian!" Michaela called.

Brian was already out to the road, cantering toward the Sheehan's.

Michaela turned to Sully, aggravated. "You might have backed me up just a little."

He shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't get a word in."

"You think I'm wrong about this, don't you?"

"I already told ya how I feel."

She shook her head. "I don't think he took me seriously at all. He thought it was all some joke."

"Hard to take ya seriously when ya want to change everything on him after we been lettin' him see her for years now."

"I didn't say he can't see her. I just said he needs a chaperone."

"He's right. Who's gonna do it? Nobody's got time for somethin' like that, includin' you."

She closed her eyes a moment. "Not again. I think I'm going to be sick."

He put his arm around her. "Let's get ya back inside. Come on."

She clutched her stomach and allowed him to lead her back to the house. "Oh, dear. I really bungled that, didn't I?"

He smiled softly and kissed her head. "No, that was a good try. Michaela, just trust him. He'll do the right thing."

She brought her hand up to her mouth and suddenly broke away from him, dashing toward the porch and up the stairs. Sully quickly followed after her. Whatever concerns they had about Brian, they were going to have to put off. Michaela was far to ill to think about it at the moment.

Elizabeth heaved a dramatic sigh. Red Eagle and Byron were watching her from the settee, occasionally making her chuckle with their frank comments and just keeping her company throughout the routine examination.

Michaela straightened with a smile. "You're in excellent physical condition. I've never heard a stronger heart on someone your age."

"Michaela, you don't even know any other people my age. I'm ancient."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, you must be at least as old as Mr. Bray!" Byron exclaimed.

Michaela smiled and packed away her instruments. Red Eagle hugged his knees to his chest and gazed at her belly. It was fast become more than noticeable, and she had even started to let out a few of her dresses to accommodate her thickening waistline.

"Red Eagle, don't gawk at her like that," Elizabeth scolded. "That's not polite."

"Sorry. It's just, Mama's gettin' fat."

"That's the baby, silly," Byron said. "It's gettin' bigger in the tummy."

"Oh," he replied pensively.

Michaela smiled softly at their curiosity and returned her medical bag to the table.

"Mama, where do babies come from?" Red Eagle suddenly asked. "I mean, how did it get in there?"

"Oh, no," Elizabeth said with a flustered sigh. "Well, this was inevitable. Red Eagle, run along and go do your homework. You needn't concern yourself with such matters until you're much, much older."

"But I want to know now," he protested.

"I know," Byron spoke up, smiling proudly.

Michaela cleared her throat, surprised. "You do?"

"You do?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Yeah. I think. Sorta. Well, not really," he admitted.

"They come from the Almighty," Elizabeth said resolutely. "There, now you know."

"You mean, God put it in there?" Red Eagle whispered, taken aback. Byron's mouth dropped open in amazement.

Michaela joined the boys and wrapped her arm around Red Eagle. "In a way. The short of it is babies come from love. When a mama and papa love each other and get married, that love sometimes causes a baby to start growing in a special place inside the mama."

"Oh," Red Eagle murmured.

"Oh," Byron echoed.

"….Oh," Elizabeth said.

Michaela rubbed each of their arms, relieved they seemed satisfied with that simple explanation for now.

"You love Papa a lot, right, Mama?" Red Eagle asked.

She smiled tenderly. "Yes. A lot, a lot."

"Oh. No wonder you're havin' a baby then!" Byron remarked.

She chuckled and stooped to kiss his head. "All right, it's homework time."

"She's doing remarkably well," Michaela said as she swept off the front porch of the clinic.

"That's wonderful, Michaela," Dorothy remarked. "I had a feeling she would."

"In Boston she was so tired she stayed on her back most of the day. Now she can sit up almost the entire time. And her legs and arms are getting so much stronger, her coordination a lot better."

"I remember what a difference all that exercisin' made when Loren had his stroke. The exercises really do work if you try hard enough."

"I have to admit it's a relief to be out of Boston," Michaela replied as she stepped forward and continued to sweep. "My sisters weren't exactly supportive of all the therapies I wanted to try. Everyone had a different opinion and we couldn't agree on anything."

"Oh, it's bound to happen." She chuckled. "And I for one am glad you're back! It's been so lonely without you to go visit next door!"

Michaela smiled as she swept underneath her bench.

"Well, you been holdin' up all right? I heard you're gettin' bad morning sickness."

Michaela stopped short, looking at her in confusion. "Who told you I'm having a baby?"

Dorothy smiled wryly. "Sully did. The other day. Oh, is that man excited! Congratulations." She drew her into a hug.

Michaela hugged back in disbelief. She couldn't believe that after how much she had stressed to Sully she wanted to keep the news quiet he had blurted it to Dorothy just like that. It wasn't like him. She was both perplexed and upset.

"Thank you, Dorothy….but we're trying not to tell anyone until I'm further along," she explained gently. "If you don't mind I'd like you to keep this to yourself."

"Oh, of course I will, cross my heart," Dorothy vowed. "I ain't told anybody. Not even Loren."

She smiled appreciatively and resumed her sweeping as Brian jogged up to them.

"Miss Dorothy," Brian said as he untied his heavy apron. "I just finished settin' the type. You're all set to go."

"Oh, that was fast. Thank you, Brian," Dorothy replied.

"You ready yet, Ma?" Brian asked eagerly. "Let's go."

"It's not that late is it? I still have a lot of cleaning to do."

"It must be about five," Dorothy remarked.

He gestured behind him. "Oh, well, Sarah's been waitin' in the Gazette awhile now. I thought she could ride home with us."

"With us? Why?"

"She's havin' supper with us, remember? You said she could."

"I did? I don't remember that. Brian, tonight's not a good night. I haven't had any time to go the mercantile and we're just going to be having leftovers."

His face fell. "But it's just Sarah. She don't care if it's leftovers. Sides, I been working so much we never see each other anymore."

"Never see her? Brian, for heaven's sake she had supper with us yesterday. Please, I'm not up to entertaining guests tonight. You can invite her next week."

He sighed impatiently. "Fine," he muttered, throwing his apron over his shoulder and walking back to the Gazette.

Michaela sighed and rested her hands on the top of a broom. "Dorothy, I don't know what to do anymore. If he's not working at the Gazette he's with her. They're suddenly so serious."

She grinned. "Oh, I think it's sweet. She's such a nice girl. Pretty, too."

She gazed at the Gazette pensively. "Sully and I thought it might be a good idea if we encourage him to slow things down a little. Pursue his own interests apart from her."

"Sully suggested that?" Dorothy asked skeptically.

"Well, I suppose it was more my idea. And my mother's. We're a little worried about what might have gone on while we were in Boston. They had plenty of opportunity to be alone."

Dorothy pressed her hand to her heart. "Michaela, nothing went on! They're just children!"

"I'd like to think so. But Matthew was younger than him when he got engaged."

"They won't get engaged," Dorothy said, waving one hand dismissively. "Not yet anyway. He always talks about saving up for a big piece of land, and you know how hard it is these days to put aside anything. It's gonna be at least another year or two I bet." She nodded resolutely. "No, they're too mature to make the same mistakes other young couples do. They'll wait until they're much more prepared."

"You're right," Michaela said, resuming her sweeping. "I hope."

"Don't see the harm in it," Sully spoke up from the bed. "After all, he goes over to her place for supper half the time. Might as well return the favor."

She sighed and continued brushing.

He eyed her for a long moment. "Michaela, there somethin' else botherin' ya?"

She slowly shifted around in her chair and grabbed the back. "Dorothy knows I'm pregnant."

He smiled. "Yeah. She's happy for us."

"I thought we weren't going to tell anyone."

"Thought we said we're tellin' family. I just figured Dorothy's family. Sides, I didn't mean to tell her. She just wanted to know where ya were the other day an' I wasn't gonna lie to her. Told her ya were home with mornin' sickness."

She turned back around and rested her hands in her lap.

He paused, sensing she wasn't satisfied with that. "I'm sorry, Michaela. I shouldn'ta said anything."

"It's all right," she murmured, resuming her brushing. "She is family."

"When are we gonna tell folks anyway? I can already see your belly."

She glanced down. "I can still hide it. We'll wait until I reach the second trimester."

"When's that?"

"The fourth month."

"That's a long time to wait. I think we could tell folks now."

She put the brush aside. "If I miscarry we're going to have to face all those people."

"Miscarry?" he murmured. He shifted up a little, concerned. "Michaela, you all right? Ya ain't gettin' any of the symptoms, are ya?"

"No."

He sighed with relief. "Good."

She turned back around to face him. "It's just, women my age are at a much higher risk of miscarriage. Every twinge frightens me. Every time I use the outhouse I'm worried I'm going to find blood."

"Why ya thinkin' about this?"

"I just want to prepare myself. I don't want us to be taken off guard if it happens." She stood and joined him at the bed, sitting down.

He clutched the sleeve of her bathrobe. "Ya want me to take ya to see Andrew? We ain't seen him. I think it's a good idea he take a look at ya anyway."

"What good would that do? If I'm going to miscarry no one can stop it." She slipped out of her bathrobe and climbed under the covers beside him.

He sighed with frustration, working himself up to a sitting position. "Ya say you're worried about this, but ya won't let me do anything to help."

"I just want you to listen to me, Sully," she replied sternly. "I want you to validate my feelings."

"I ain't validatin' you thinkin' the worse, Michaela. I ain't gonna let us walk around worried every second about somethin' bad happenin'. Ya think it enough and it will happen."

"I'm sorry," she said, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sully."

He drew her into a hug. "Hey. I know these first couple months can make ya nervous. But you're doin' fine so far. You're both gonna be fine."

She sniffled. "All the morning sickness, it's not pleasant but it's actually a good sign. I likely wouldn't be having it if something's gone wrong."

"See? Everything's fine."

She pulled back, clutching his arms. "It's just we…I never really talked to you about being older, what affect that could have on the baby."

"I know it can make pregnancy a little tougher. But I'm right here for ya. Me and the kids and our friends, we're gonna help ya."

"More than that, Sully. Older mothers, if we don't miscarry you tend to see a lot more birth defects."

"Birth defects?" he murmured in confusion.

"Sometimes the brain doesn't form correctly. The baby could have lifelong cognitive problems. Other organs could be underdeveloped, not work properly."

He swallowed hard, looking down pensively. "Michaela, this ain't gonna-"

"Sully, we need to realize this is a possibility."

He looked back up. "Anything's a possibility. Includin' a healthy baby."

"I'm just not sure how you're going to feel if the baby's…"

"What do ya mean how I'm gonna feel? I'll love it. I'll love our baby no matter what. Already do."

"You mean that?"

"Course I do. Michaela, it's our child. It was meant to be." He kissed her cheek and held her again, rocking her reassuringly. "This baby's healthy, Michaela. I know it is."

She swiped at her tears and rested her head against his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

"I want you to push your foot against me and I'll provide a little resistance," Michaela instructed.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and made a weak attempt to comply.

Michaela watched her with concern. "What's wrong, Mother? Does it hurt?"

"It's not comfortable if that's what you're asking."

"Well, the only way we can get you standing again is if your legs are strong enough to support your weight. I'm afraid it's going to feel a little uncomfortable at first."

Elizabeth drew in her breath and pushed her foot hard against Michaela's hand.

"There, is that what you wanted?" she said, exasperated.

"Very good, Mother," Michaela replied with a smile, lowering her leg back to the bed and covering her up just as Brian came in the back door and knocked on Elizabeth's open door.

"Oh, Brian. Back already?" Elizabeth said cheerfully.

"Mail came for you, Gran'ma," he said, entering the room and handing her a small pile of envelopes as Elizabeth slipped on her spectacles.

"Well, aren't you popular," Michaela said wryly.

"I won't be home for supper. I'm eatin' at Sarah's," Brian said coolly.

"Brian-" Michaela said.

He held his hands in the air. "Don't worry. Mrs. Sheehan's gonna be there watchin' our every move." He spun around and headed out of the room.

Michaela sighed and returned her attention to her mother.

"Letters from your sisters, probably wondering if I'm still alive out here," Elizabeth said, flipping through the mail. "Ah, here's one from Ruth Martin. Gloating about how well she handled the flower show without me no doubt." She glanced at the last rather large envelope, brightening and tearing it open. "My goodness. She wrote back already."

"Who?" Michaela asked curiously.

Elizabeth pulled out a letter, some application papers and a pamphlet with a drawing of a beautiful tall brick building that had pillars and ivy. She quickly skimmed the letter. "It's from Sister Bonfils. She's the Director of St. Mary's Academy. It's a boarding school for girls just outside of Denver."

She sat on the bed. "Boarding school? Why are you writing to her?"

"Now Michaela, don't be upset."

"I'm not upset. I just don't understand why you're corresponding with some nun in Denver."

Elizabeth looked through the pamphlet. "I've been contacting lots of private schools in the area. Loren helped me get their addresses. I thought perhaps you might seriously consider sending the children away to school after the Christmas holiday."

She chuckled, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of it. "Mother, you know we couldn't afford that even if we wanted to."

"Yes, well, I can," Elizabeth said resolutely.

"You want to pay to send the children to boarding school? But why? They're doing fine at our school in town."

"Oh, Michaela, but they could thrive at a serious school. Just look at this." She handed the pamphlet to her and Michaela reluctantly flipped through it. "This place could truly prepare Katie. They have music rooms, badminton courts, excursions to museums and theaters in the city. Religious instruction of course. All of them could certainly stand to have a lot more of that. The dormitories look pleasant. And plenty of overly qualified teachers."

Michaela reached the last page and glanced at the tuition chart, raising her eyebrows and looking up skeptically. "You really want to pay for this, Mother? The tuition is outrageous."

"Of course I do. I want to pay for private school for all of them. Nothing but the best for my granddaughter and grandsons."

"I don't think a private school would even admit Red Eagle. He's lucky he's allowed to go to the school in town."

"Well, the reality is he may have to stay home. But at least Byron and Katie would be getting a somewhat more substantial education. Michaela, what's the problem? You and your sisters all went to private school. Do you really think you'd be a doctor today if we just sent you to any old government-funded one-room schoolhouse?"

Michaela thought about it a moment. She supposed her mother had a point about that. Katie was beginning to show an interest in medicine, if only a slight one, and it was never too early to start preparing her the best that they possibly could to someday go to college and perhaps, eventually, medical school.

"It does look lovely," Michaela admitted, looking at the pamphlet again. "This says they have courses in Latin. I always wanted them to learn that like I did when I was in school."

"Is Mrs. Slicker planning to teach them Latin? I should think not," Elizabeth said resolutely. "She'll sooner try to teach them Spanish. And what good would that be?"

"Well, I'll talk to Sully. But I doubt he'll even consider the idea."

Elizabeth shrugged. "He never gave me the impression he cared one way or another about their schooling, or lack thereof. I don't see what difference it would make to him."

"I just don't think it would hurt to hear her out on this," Michaela replied, standing in front of his workbench and folding her arms.

"You tellin' me you want to ship our kids off to some boardin' school? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? I'm only trying to give our children the best educational opportunities that we can. Sully, education was what got me to where I am."

"Hard work was what got ya here," he replied, pounding harder on the iron. "And a pa that supported ya every step of the way."

"Sully, what if they want to be doctors someday? Or lawyers, or teachers? Shouldn't we start preparing them now? You should see this pamphlet. This school could teach her everything from geometry to music. And she could learn Latin, as I did."

"They're gettin' everything they need at the school in town."

"Is that how you really feel?"

He glanced up, putting the hammer aside. "Yeah, it's how I really feel. What more do you think they should have? Harp lessons? Learn some language nobody even speaks anymore? Our kids would hate that kind of thing, Michaela."

"I suppose," she murmured.

He grabbed a small bucket of water and doused the wheel liberally with water. "Is this about Teresa Slicker? Just cause you two don't see eye to eye don't mean we gotta pull 'em out. She's a good teacher."

"That has nothing to do with it," she said defensively. "She's a fine teacher. Given the circumstances."

"Your ma is always tryin' to convince ya we ain't doin' all we should for them. And I'm gettin' pretty tired of it." He stood and picked up the wheel, carrying it over to the simple wheelchair frame that he had laid out on its side on a bench.

Michaela followed him, hands clasped. "I just I…I love them so much. And I want them to have everything," she murmured.

He slid a long bolt into place, attaching the wheel to the chair. "Don't you think I want that too? But Michaela, you gotta realize just cause you're paying an arm and leg for somethin' don't make it better. Katie and Red Eagle love their school, and their teacher. And look at Byron. It's been harder for him, but he's kept at it. And he's finally startin' to catch on. You really think it's a good idea we pull him out right now?" He spun the wheel slowly. "I thought you left your Boston ways behind a long time ago."

"Boston ways?" she repeated, offended. "Sully, I only want what's best for them. And so does Mother."

"We're their parents. This is our decision, not hers."

"You act like it's your decision. As if I don't have any say at all."

"I'm puttin' my foot down this time. We ain't pullin' 'em outta everything they've ever known to go to some stuck up boardin' school fifty miles away." He righted the wheelchair and gently pushed it back and forth, trying it out for the first time.

Michaela suddenly paused and nearly forgot what they were arguing about as she saw the wheelchair in one piece. It had a firm wooden back and seat, two large, sturdy wooden wheels and two smaller wheels in front. Sully had put a long handle behind the seatback for someone to push it.

"Oh, Sully, it's wonderful," she murmured. "I don't know how you did it."

"Still needs a little work," he said modestly. "I gotta sand it, stain it, fit some cushions on so it's nice and soft."

She looked up at him tearfully. "I don't mean to quarrel with you. You're absolutely right about all of this. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to at least look at that pamphlet she got," he murmured.

She smiled and stepped forward, hugging him. "No, don't bother. Besides, I'd cry myself to sleep every night if my little ones were fifty miles away. Boarding school is not for this family."

He kissed her cheek. "So ya like it, huh?"

She looked at the wheelchair again, shaking her head in wonder. "I think you should have been a wheelwright. Mother's going to love it, too."

"Hope so," he replied.

She looked up at him lovingly. "Thank you, Sully."

He smiled softly. "You're welcome."

"There's some nice shade up ahead," Kirk remarked. "Wanna stop for lunch?"

"Sure," Sully murmured.

Kirk pulled the wagon up to the grove of ash trees, put on the brake and hopped down, grabbing their lunch satchels and tossing Sully his. Kirk took a seat on a fallen log and Sully crouched down on the grass.

Kirk pulled out two thick sandwiches wrapped in paper, two apples, some cold chicken legs and what looked like more than half a dozen cookies. Sully somewhat reluctantly removed from his satchel a rather dry looking piece of bread, an apple and his canteen.

"Who packed that for you, Sully?" Kirk said with a teasing grin. "That's a pretty sad lunch."

"Grabbed somethin' quick myself. Didn't want to wake Michaela what with her working so hard takin' care of her ma," he explained.

He handed him a sandwich. "Here, have one of mine. Faye always packs me too much. She must think I'm eatin' for two, too!"

Sully hesitated, then listened to his stomach and took it. "Thanks."

Kirk took a huge bite of his sandwiches. "How's that goin' anyway? Can't imagine havin' my ma livin' with us. Not that I don't love her. But it'd make for awful close quarters."

"It's all right I guess," Sully muttered, opening his canteen and taking a swig.

"You know, Faye's pa hated me for the longest time. Almost didn't even come to our weddin'," Kirk remarked. He chuckled. "Took a shotgun to me on more than one occasion when I was courtin' Faye."

"What didn't he like about ya?" Sully asked curiously, unwrapping the sandwich from the brown paper.

"I was from Texas for one," he said with a grin. "And he wanted Faye to marry somebody who could take over the tailorin' business since he didn't have a son. He had a real successful shop in Silver Cliff. Trouble is I didn't know the first thing about tailorin'. Construction, now that's all I've ever done. That, and play my fiddle." He bit into his apple. "I reckon he was just worried I wouldn't be able to support his little girl." He looked up with a wink. "In-laws. What's a man to do?"

Sully smiled softly for the first time that day. "He ever warm up to ya?"

He rested his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, he did. A little. When he found out he was gonna be a gran'pappy. A shame he passed on before Danielle was born."

"I ain't sure Michaela's ma ever liked what I do either. She's always bringin' up money and how we don't got it. Looks at me like that's my fault."

"What does she expect? Nobody's got money these days."

"Mrs. Quinn does. Michaela's pa set up a big trust for her to live off when he passed on."

"Oh. Must be nice."

"She tried to buy me new boots," Sully said firmly.

Kirk glanced at his boots. "Oh. Where are they?"

"What do you mean? I didn't take 'em."

"Why not? Ya sure as heck need 'em."

"I can't accept those. She bought 'em for me." He ate a small bite of his sandwich.

"She's family. Thought family's supposed to do things like that. I'd love somebody to buy me new boots."

"And she tried to send our kids off to boardin' school," Sully added. "She's tryin' to take our kids away from us."

"No she's not. She's just tryin' to see to it they get a good education."

"Who's side are you on anyway, Kirk?"

"Sully, trust me on this. She ain't pointin' a shotgun at you. You don't really know how good you got it."

Sully glanced at him impatiently and took another swig from his canteen.

"Well, guess ya gotta give those old folks some credit," Kirk added. "I'd say we owe 'em. Musta done somethin' right raisin' up the two fine women who somehow managed to turn you and me to mush."

Sully chuckled softly. "That they did."

Kirk slapped him on the back. "Finish up. Let's head home to 'em."

Elizabeth didn't even look up from her book as they entered, doing her best to ignore them.

"Well, here we are," Michaela finally said.

Elizabeth gave her a fleeting glance. "Here we are what?"

"It's your chair, Gran'ma," Byron explained. "Papa finished."

Michaela pushed it to the edge of the bed. "We thought we could take you for your first walk this afternoon. It's a beautiful day."

"In that? I should think not!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

Michaela glanced at the chair. "What's wrong with it? Sully worked so hard on it."

"Oh, he's never even seen a chair like this before! How does he know it won't fall apart the moment I sit down? I'm not going to be the victim in some trial and error experiment of his. No, I can't trust it."

"It won't fall apart," Byron said dismissively, hopping onto the seat. "See, Gran'ma? Papa made it strong."

"Even if it were safe, I'm not ready for such things," Elizabeth added. "The way your terrain is I can just imagine how painful it would be jostling to and fro."

"Let me have a turn," Red Eagle said, climbing up next to Byron and squeezing in beside him. "Push us, Mama."

"Push us, Mama!" Byron said with a giggle.

"Boys, stop it. It's not for playing," Michaela scolded. "This is supposed to be for your grandmother, if she would only stop being so stubborn."

"I'm not doing it, Michaela. I'm not getting in that thing," Elizabeth said firmly. "I'll never get in it."

"If you were so intent on never using it why didn't you speak up before?" Michaela asked. "Do you have any idea how many hours Sully's been out in the barn working on this for you? And now you say it was all for nothing?"

"As if you would have listened to me!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "You and your sisters haven't let me make one decision for myself since my accident. No one ever gives a care what I want. You especially. You're the bossiest of all my daughters!"

"Bossy!" she replied. "I'll have you know if it weren't for me being bossy, as you call it, you'd still be flat on your back in some stuffy hospital. And if you would listen to me and cooperate a little more you'd probably be doing even better."

"Well, that's your opinion. You're full of those, too." She glanced down at her book, clearly not interested in carrying the conversation further.

Michaela stepped back and grasped Katie's hand. "Come on, children. Help me start supper."

She left the chair where it was and ushered the children out of the room, closing the door.

"Mama, if Gran'ma doesn't want her chair could we have it to play?" Byron asked.

"No," Michaela said simply, grabbing a bowl of potatoes and a few peelers and bringing them to the kitchen table.

"Why?" he asked, pouting. "We could race it down the hill."

"You most certainly may not!" she cried. "Your papa spent hours working on that chair. I don't want you to touch it unsupervised. Do you understand?"

"…Yes," he muttered, crossing his arms with disappointment.

Michaela handed Byron one of the peelers and Red Eagle the other. "Help Mama peel the potatoes."

"Guess Papa wasted his time. Gran'ma sure didn't like it," Red Eagle remarked sadly, selecting a potato from the bowl.

Michaela nodded desolately and turned to the stove to start a fire. Katie slowly took a seat at the table and rested her arms on it.

"Mama?" she whispered. "I don't think Gran'ma's getting better."

Michaela slowly turned to face her. "Why do you say that, sweetheart?"

"I thought she would walk when she got here. But she's still in bed."

"Well, just because she's in bed doesn't mean she's not getting better," Michaela replied softly. "You know Mama's doing lots of exercises with her that are helping her legs to get strong again."

Katie's eyes welled with tears. "But I don't think it's working."

Byron swallowed hard. "Gran'ma broke her hip pretty bad, right Mama?" he whispered.

"That's right, sweetheart," she whispered hoarsely.

"What if…what if she never walks again, Mama?" Katie asked. "She doesn't even want to use her chair."

Michaela joined her at the table and squeezed her shoulder. "Recovery from something like this isn't all about walking again. It's also about feeling better on the inside. When this first happened, before you came out to Boston, Grandma was very, very sad about it." She kissed Katie's head. "But then you came to see her and she came back to Colorado with us, and now she's feeling better. You cheer her up."

"How?" Byron asked curiously.

She smiled. "By being you."

"But I want her to walk, Mama," Katie protested.

Michaela squeezed one of her braids, eyes welling with tears. "I know, Katie. But the truth is Mama doesn't know for sure if that's going to happen. But at least we've helped Gran'ma feel happier on the inside, hm?"

Katie nodded, swallowing hard and sniffling as she rested her head against Michaela's belly.

"I'm so glad you're here helping me with Gran'ma," Michaela murmured as she stroked Katie's hair. "All of you. Thank you."

"Come in," William called back.

She opened the door, finding her son sitting at his desk surrounded by textbooks and notes. He wore a cozy thick sweater with his fraternity letters stitched on the front and he continued to write with his pen as she entered the room.

"I didn't know you were still up, Mother," he replied with a kind smile.

"Studying hard?"

He sighed and leaned back. "Roman governmental structure. We have an examination next week and I think I let myself get too behind."

She leaned on the edge of the desk and handed him the cup of tea. "Oh, you'll do fine. You always do. Here, I brought you some tea."

He blew on the tea and took a sip. "Oh, that hits the spot. Thank you."

She lightly caressed his thin, light brown curls. He was a charming young man with light blue eyes and pale skin, and tall like his father. He still had that same rumpled appearance he always had as a child, and it was endearing.

"Wills, sweetheart, I need to ask a rather important favor of you."

"What's that, Mother?"

"I need you to watch the house for me while I'm gone. Make sure the servants are doing what they're supposed to do and see to it they don't get lazy like your grandmother's did when she was in the hospital."

"While you're gone? Where are you going?"

She took a deep breath. "Colorado Springs."

William raised his eyebrows. "Colorado Springs? Mother, have you gone mad?"

She suddenly grew tearful. "William, I miss your grandmother. I'm dreadfully worried about her out there. I can't stand it any longer. I have to go see for myself."

"Auntie Mike just sent a telegram. She says she's fine."

"Well, I don't believe her. I don't believe her for a second. She just wants to take Grandmother away from all of us. She'll say anything to keep us out of it."

He put down his teacup. "This is just another one of Auntie's grand ideas that never go anywhere. Besides, you always said she and Grandmother never could stand each other, at least not for more than a few weeks. And I know how Grandmother feels about Uncle Sully. I can just imagine all of them living together in that little cottage of theirs. They'll either kill each other, or Grandmother will give up and come home."

"Exactly, your Auntie Michaela's going to kill her," Claudette said firmly. "To think of the backwards conditions out there makes me sick with worry. It's no place for an invalid."

"Father would never have let you go out there," William replied, shaking his head. "He'd forbid this."

"Your father's dead," she retorted. "It doesn't matter what he thinks anymore. Now I've already bought my ticket. I'm going."

"You're as mad as the rest of them," he said. "I wish you would just be patient and let things run their course. I'd worry about you myself out there, Mama."

She sighed, touched. He so rarely called her Mama. Only when he was very upset. "There's no time to be patient anymore, William," she replied. "These are perhaps the last few months I'm going to have with your grandmother. I've already wasted too much time."

He stood, sighing. "Well, go if you must. I'll watch over things here. But I still think it's unnecessary."

"I'm going to bring her back here, Will. I'm going to open up our home to her. If she truly can't live by herself anymore, then she can live with us."

"Sorry I'm late," Sully said as he shut the door behind him and hung up his jacket. "Kids in bed?"

Michaela looked up from the textbook she was studying at the kitchen table. She was already in her nightgown and bathrobe, but hadn't wanted to go to bed until Sully came home. "Yes, everyone's asleep."

He leaned on the table and kissed her. "You should be asleep, too. Ya didn't have to wait up for me."

She stood and walked to the stove. "I saved you some supper. Are you hungry?"

"Sounds good. I'm starved."

She dished up some stew onto a plate. "Did you and Kirk and Robert E. finish?"

He sat down at the table. "Almost. I'll have to go in early tomorrow morning to get that order done before noon. That all right?"

"Of course." She placed the plate in front of him and grabbed a napkin and a fork, handing them to him.

He dug in eagerly as she poured him a cup of coffee, then refilled her own cup sitting beside the book.

"Well, how'd it go? Your ma like goin' on a walk?" Sully asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"We never went. She wouldn't even get in the chair," she replied, putting the coffee pot back on the stove.

He slowly took another bite of stew, looking up at her.

"She says she'll never get in it. There was nothing I could do to persuade her." She sat down and flipped a page in her textbook absently.

"That's too bad," he murmured. "I think it would be good for her."

"Sully, the children know," she said, swallowing hard. "They're starting to realize how grave her condition is."

He nodded. "Guess they're growin' up."

"I tried to tell them Grandma's doing better. That moving here has made a world of difference. But I'm not sure I believe that myself."

"Of course she's doin' better, Michaela. But we knew this was gonna be a long road. So she's had a setback. We can't get discouraged." He nodded at the book. "What ya readin'?"

"It's an article about a new kind of hip surgery. There's some surgeons in Europe who are experimenting with trimming the bone back and smoothing the surface of the joint, and then replacing the inside of the joint with material like gold or zinc or some kind of metal plate."

"You sayin' you're thinkin' about operatin' on her?"

"No, this isn't my area of expertise. I wouldn't know where to begin. But perhaps a specialist could look at her. I could wire some colleagues, see if they know someone anywhere near here." She picked up her coffee cup and warmed her hands around it.

"You sure you want to put her through another operation?"

"No, not at all. I would think recovery from something like that would take months. We'd have to start all over. And that's if she even survives the surgery. It's all so experimental. I'm just trying to explore all our options, that's all."

He nodded in approval and took another bite of stew.

She blew on her coffee and took a sip. "Sully, am I bossy?"

He coughed. "Bossy? You've asked me that before."

She glanced at him skeptically. "But am I?"

"No. You're just…you're persistent," he explained fleetingly, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.

"Mother said I'm bossy. She behaves as if I'm forcing this chair on her against her will."

"Michaela, it just scared her. Give her some time to warm up to it. There's nothing that says she won't change her mind. She has before."

"When I think of the hours you spent on that, designing it and building it. Only to have her act like this. She doesn't appreciate how hard you worked."

"This ain't about me feelin' appreciated. I don't care about that. She'll use that chair in her own time. But we gotta expect it may sit unused for awhile. You know what they say, ya can lead a horse to water."

"But you can't force him to drink. I don't know how you do it. You have so much patience."

He smiled wryly, stirring his stew. "Gotta be when I'm livin' with women like you and your ma."

She chuckled softly.

He glanced at her belly. She couldn't hide the growing bulge in her lap anymore, and all of their friends were noticing. They couldn't step foot in town without someone congratulating them or offering to bring supper by or watch the children. Everyone was being so supportive, and he was grateful. They were really going to need it. He tenderly laid his hand atop her belly.

"How's our baby doin'?"

She flipped a page in the textbook, growing solemn. "Making me very tired."

"Ya gotta get more rest."

"I will. Let me finish this page."

"I think ya got a little bigger when I was in town today," he said wryly. He stroked her stomach with his thumb as he gazed at her lovingly. "Ya feelin' it move yet? It kickin' ya?"

She continued reading as if she hadn't even heard him.

"Michaela?"

She glanced up. "Hm?"

"I asked if you're feelin' kickin' yet."

"Oh. No, not yet."

He glanced down at her belly and continued to rub it. "Expect we will pretty soon. Can't wait."

"Sully, eat before it gets cold," she scolded gently.

He slowly sat back and removed his hand, taking another bite of stew. It wasn't like Michaela not to want to talk about the baby and have him stroke and caress her belly and even kiss her there from time to time. At least she had been more than receptive to all that when she was pregnant before. But she had been shying away from any of that this time around, and it was beginning to worry him.

"Feelin' all right?" he asked. "Ya throw up this mornin'?"

"Mm," she replied disinterestedly. She had become so used to being so ill every day she had fast grown tired and even a little irritated of talking about it. Discussing it didn't make her feel any better, and she didn't see the point in rehashing the unpleasantness of it all.

He eyed her a moment, uncertain whether to press her on it. "Why don't ya go up to bed? I'll be up in a minute."

She closed the textbook and stood, giving his brow a soft kiss. "I'm glad you're home."

Byron sat in Elizabeth chair and absently worked the wheels back and forth, moving the chair a few inches backward and forward as he listened to Katie recite her poem at the foot of the bed.

"To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair, Are but torn love letters, that through the skies. Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies." Katie let out her breath and smiled.

Elizabeth clapped her hands. "Well done, Katie! Oh, what a beautiful poem. And you recite it so dynamically."

She smiled wider and climbed up on the bed beside Red Eagle.

Elizabeth glanced at her youngest grandson as she put her arm around Katie. "Byron? Your turn. Stand up and recite your poem for Grandma."

"I don't feel like it," he muttered.

"You're not supposed to play in Gran'ma's wheelchair," Katie spoke up. "Mama said it's not for playing."

"Oh, it's all right. He can sit in it. If he's careful," Elizabeth said. "Go on, dear. You can recite your poem from there."

Byron looked up, eyes solemn. "But it's not gonna be the same, Gran'ma."

"What do you mean it's not going to be the same?" she replied.

"I don't want to recite it here. I want you to come to school and hear our poems," he explained. "We're gonna have punch, too. I want you to have some punch."

"Oh, well, I wish I could come, too, sweetheart," Elizabeth said. "But I'm just not well enough for that. I'm afraid I'm going to have to miss it."

"You don't have to miss it. You can use the chair," Byron said persistently, wheeling the chair to the edge of the bed. "You can sit in here and we'll take you to town."

"Don't be scared of it, Gran'ma," Red Eagle added. "Papa made it real strong. It'll never break."

"All the other gran'mas are coming," Katie said, squeezing Elizabeth's arm.

"They are, are they?" Elizabeth said, heaving a sigh. "Well, you really think it's sturdy?"

Byron slowly brightened. He got up from the chair and held onto the back. "Sure. Papa wouldn't let you fall, Gran'ma. Never."

"Don't be so sure about that." She stroked Katie's hair, moved by the children's pleading looks. "All right, all right," she said at last. "Go find your mother and I'll try out this contraption. Just try it, mind you. If it doesn't feel right I'm not going to use it."

"Yea!" Red Eagle said.

Byron ran to the doorway, holding onto the frame. "Mama, come quick! Gran'ma's gonna use her chair!" he called enthusiastically. "Gran'ma's comin' to our poetry readin'!"

Dorothy fussed over Loren's catalogue, giggling over the baby clothes. Michaela was at her side, struggling to muster up the same enthusiasm. Katie and Byron were looking through the toys in stock and Red Eagle lingered shyly near the counter.

"Oh, look how beautiful those are," Dorothy said whimsically, pointing at an elaborate pair of lacy booties that were far too expensive to ever justify ordering them.

"They're nice," Michaela admitted.

"You could make those, Michaela," Dorothy remarked. "What with the way you can stitch?"

"You think so?"

"Let me see, Mama," Katie said, joining the women. Michaela put her arm around her and held her close, giving her fair head a kiss as they continued to leaf through the catalogue.

Faye quickly crossed the room, waving a packet with a picture of a intricate christening gown on the front. "Here it is, Dr. Mike. Here's the one I like," she called, joining the women and opening it up. "It's only twenty cents. We could split it."

Michaela swallowed hard and looked through the complicated pattern. "It's lovely," she admitted.

"Well, what do you say?" Faye asked eagerly. "We could work on our gowns together. Oh, it'll be so fun."

Michaela nodded, not wanting to disappoint her friend. "Let's get it."

"Let me see you two," Dorothy said with amusement, arranging her friends so that their growing bellies were pressed up against each other. "Look how big you're both gettin'! What a sight!"

Sully smiled softly from the counter. He was glad to see Michaela's friends so excited about her pregnancy and encouraging her to be the same. It had been awhile since Michaela had something this wonderful to look forward to. She deserved to enjoy it.

"I need a box of nails, too, Loren," he remarked, leaning on the counter.

"Yep, you got it," Loren said, placing the boxes in a crate along with their other groceries.

"Can ya put that on our account?" Sully asked.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Say, Sully. About your account."

Sully straightened uncomfortably. "Look, Loren, I know it's been awhile since we made a payment."

"Two months, to be exact," the storekeeper informed him.

"We're gonna get ya your money. Soon as we can."

He glanced at Red Eagle. "Well, I'm willin' to let it slide. Given the circumstances."

"Thank you, Loren," Sully said, grabbing the crate and heading outside to the wagon.

"Sure, sure. You can count on me," he muttered, opening up his ledger. He slowly glanced down at Red Eagle, who was clutching the counter and gazing up at him. "Stop starin' at me."

"Sorry, Mr. Bray."

"Well, it's all right. Just don't do it again."

Red Eagle returned his gaze to Michaela, sighing softly. Faye was pressing Michaela and Dorothy's hands to her stomach and waiting with baited breath. All three of the women suddenly burst into chuckles and hugged one another.

"Bet you're excited to be a big brother," Loren remarked, licking the tip of his pencil.

Red Eagle shrugged.

"You want some candy? I just got some new gum drops in."

"No thanks," Red Eagle murmured.

"You don't want candy? Are you sick or something?"

"Hey, Mr. Bray? You got a lotta space upstairs, don't you?"

"Well, I guess so."

He scratched his nose. "Do you think maybe I could live up there with you? Once Dr. Mike has the baby?"

Loren lowered his pencil, taken aback. "What do you mean? Why would you want to live with a grumpy ole man like me?"

"You're not grumpy. You're nice. I'd be real quiet and always do what you said. I wouldn't cause any trouble. No, sir. And I could help out in your store. Earn my keep."

"Kinda little to be stackin' cans, ain't you?"

"I'll stand on a stool," he suggested practically.

Dorothy walked to the counter with the catalogue, holding Michaela's hand and bringing her with her. Katie and Faye followed behind.

"Loren, could Michaela borrow this catalogue?" Dorothy asked.

"Catalogues ain't for borrowin', Dr. Mike," Loren replied. "They're supposed to stay here so customers can order out of them."

"Oh, Loren, let her have it," Dorothy exclaimed. "No one's ordered a thing out of that in months. Everything in it is overpriced and you know it."

"Well, I could just take the page I want," Michaela suggested, reaching her hand up to tenderly stroke back Red Eagle's hair.

"What good's a catalogue with a page missing!" Loren cried.

"Mama's going to make the little shoes in there," Katie explained, clutching the counter and looking up at the storekeeper sweetly. "She needs the picture."

"She needs the picture, does she," Loren muttered impatiently. "All right. Go on, take it. But bring it back."

Michaela smiled, clutching the catalogue to her chest. "Thank you, Loren."

"Say, how's Elizabeth doing?"

"Oh, better every day. She just started using a wheelchair. She's at home with Brian today."

"I thought maybe I could stop by tomorrow, pay her a visit."

"Certainly, Loren. Any time."

"I have half a mind to ask Sully to make one of these for me," Loren remarked, gesturing at Elizabeth's wheelchair. "What with the way my bones are aching these days it'd be nice to have somebody wheel me around."

Elizabeth sipped her iced tea as they sat on the porch, enjoying the mild fall day. "Unless you don't trust who's pushing you. It's a wonder I haven't had any mishaps yet."

"Now that you have a chair, why don't we ever see you in town?" Loren asked. "You could come to church, come visit me at my store."

"Oh, it's such a production going anywhere. I'd rather just stay at home."

"I s'pose."

"Besides, Michaela needs my help here. She insists on continuing to work at the clinic and attend town council meetings and whatever else she's always doing in town, and so it's good that I'm always here to look after the children while she's off attending to all that nonsense."

"She ain't workin' too hard, is she? Dr. Mike never seems to want to slow down."

"Well, I've always thought she works too hard. But that's her father in her. The man never stopped. There's not much I can do to change her except help her out as much as I can."

"Sure she appreciates it. Especially with three little ones now. They're a handful."

"Oh, my grandchildren? They're little darlings," Elizabeth said with a smile. "They're always perfectly behaved for me. Especially Red Eagle. He's such a little gentlemen. Yes please and no thank you and as helpful as can be."

He took another sip of his iced tea. "He was actin' awful strange in my store the other day. Says he wants to move in with me once the baby's born."

She looked at him with surprise. "Whatever for?"

"If I didn't know any better I'd say he's a little jealous. Feelin' like folks forgot about him. Maybe feelin' like Dr. Mike and Sully don't care about him anymore."

"Oh, I see. Michaela's sisters were incredibly jealous when she was born. Especially Marjorie and Claudette. Claudette was so angry one time she pulled her poor little sister's hair until Michaela screamed so hard the house shook. I had to pry her hand away. Of course Michaela got back at her when she was old enough to." She glanced at Loren. "Could you talk to him, Loren? Explain this all to him? I'd hate to see any of the children jealous. They have no reason to be."

"Me? No, I'm never any good at those kind of things. I'll jumble it all up. I'll leave that to you and Dr. Mike and Sully."

Michaela opened the door, a shawl draped over her arm. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "Are you chilly, Mother?"

"Afternoon, Dr. Mike," Loren said.

"Loren," she replied with a smile, draping the shawl across Elizabeth's lap. "Anything I can get you, Mother?"

"Michaela, for heaven's sake I'm fine," Elizabeth protested.

"But she'd be a lot better if she were takin' a walk with me," Loren said, placing his glass on the porch. "How can we get her chair down these steps?"

Michaela smiled eagerly and returned to the doorway. "Sully?" she called.

"A walk?" Elizabeth repeated. "I can't go on a walk, Loren!"

"Who says?" he replied.

Sully appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"Loren and Mother want to go for a walk," Michaela said. "Could you help lift her chair down the steps?"

"Sure," he said, grabbing the back of Elizabeth's chair and wheeling her to the edge of the porch. "Loren, you take that side there."

"Oh, please be careful. Loren, this chair is heavy," Elizabeth said worriedly.

"All right, now lift it up. Easy," Sully said, raising up his side of the chair as Loren raised his.

"You ever thought of buildin' a ramp, Sully?" Loren asked with a gasp as they carried the chair down the steps.

"I'm gonna get to it," Sully said as they slowly lowered Elizabeth's chair to the ground.

Loren grabbed the back of Elizabeth's chair. "Ready, Elizabeth?"

"Go slowly. This terrain is so uncertain," she retorted.

Michaela waved as they left and then gave Sully a beaming smile. "I don't know how he did it. She never wanted to go on a walk with me."

"Loren's got a way with her," he replied. "He's been through what she has. Stuck in bed, not able to do much."

"Yes, I suppose they understand each other."

"All right, let's not spy on 'em. Leave 'em be," he said, putting his arm around her and kissing her head as they headed back inside.

Red Eagle pressed his pencil to his chin and gazed out the kitchen window absently. He was only half finished with his division assignment and had barely made any progress at all in the past half hour.

"Michaela!" Elizabeth called. "Michaela!"

Startled out of his reverie, Red Eagle put his pencil down and hopped out of his chair. "Gran'ma? You all right?" He hurried to her room and opened the door.

Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, holding a teacup in one hand and touching her bedspread with the other. "Oh, Red Eagle, I've spilled my tea. I don't know how it happened."

"Mama's not here. She's out in the garden with Papa and everybody."

"Could you go fetch her, dear?"

"I'll help you," he said, approaching the bed and examining her damp bedspread. "Here, we better take this off." He grabbed the ends of the thick coverlet and slowly pulled it from the bed.

"Oh, thank you," Elizabeth said, placing her teacup aside and watching with a soft smile as he folded the bedspread and placed it on the settee. "Why aren't you in the garden? I thought you loved to be out there."

"Mama said I couldn't. I didn't finish my homework." He walked to her bureau and opened it up, selecting a warm quilt.

"Didn't finish your homework? Why, you're always the first to finish. Is something wrong?"

"It's just hard is all." He unfolded the quilt and placed it up on her bed. "Besides, I don't wanna help anyways."

"Oh, I see," she murmured, helping him straighten the quilt. "Yes, that's much better, dear. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She patted the mattress. "Come sit up by Grandma. We'll have a little talk."

Red Eagle slowly climbed up beside her and she put her arm around him.

"Mr. Bray stopped by when you were in school the other day. He took me for a lovely walk."

"He did? He's nice."

"He told me you want to go live with him. Is that true?"

"Yes, ma'am. I figure I better start lookin' for a new home right away."

"Oh, Red Eagle. But this is your home. With Sully and Michaela. Why would you want to leave?"

He swallowed hard. "They adopted me because Jack died. Now they're havin' a new baby of their own. What do they need me for anymore?"

"Red Eagle, that is not why they adopted you," Elizabeth scolded. "They took you in because they love you. Because they want to give you a better life. You must know that." She held him close and kissed his head. "You are certainly needed. All three of you. Have you noticed how tired your mother's been? Having a baby is very tiring. She needs everyone to help out so that she can get lots of rest. And once the baby's born! I don't see anyone like Martha around to care for her, do you?"

Red Eagle giggled softly. "No."

"That means everyone will need to help out. You can't expect your mother to do it all. And look after everyone else, too? She'll need you!"

"But what could I do? I'm just a little kid."

"Quite a bit! You can hold the baby, rock her, sing to her, help give her a bath and dress her. And when she gets a little older, teach her things. Things no one else can, like about what it was like when you lived in Montana, and the Crow Indians."

"You think she'd like to know about the Crow?" he asked shyly.

"Oh, yes. Red Eagle, you're going to be a big brother. It's one of the most important jobs you'll ever have. Embrace it."

"What's that mean?"

She smiled. "It means do it the best you can."

"Guess I've never been a big brother before. You make it sound fun." He thought it over a moment. "All right. I'll give it a try."

"Good," she said, giving him a reassuring hug.

Kirk banged on the homestead door with both fists, panting hard.

"Dr. Mike!" he shouted. "Dr. Mike!"

He banged harder, his breath coming out in little puffs of smoke in the chilly night air.

At last Sully opened the door, Michaela a few steps behind him in her nightgown and bathrobe.

"Kirk, what's wrong?" Michaela asked.

"It's Faye. She's at the clinic. Her water broke."

Michaela tried to keep a straight face for Kirk's sake, but Faye was only thirty-two weeks into her pregnancy. If her labor couldn't be stopped, she knew that was far too early to have much hope for the baby's survival. "Contractions?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, removing his hat and wiping his brow.

"Go on ahead. We'll be right behind you," Michaela said.

Kirk immediately ran down the porch to his horse as Sully shut the door and grabbed their jackets off the rack.

"Let me see if Mother's awake," Michaela said, crossing the room and opening Elizabeth's door.

"Michaela, what's all the commotion?" Elizabeth asked, propping herself up on her elbows in bed.

She entered the room and walked to the bedside. "I'm afraid Faye's gone into labor. Can you stay here with the children?"

"Oh, the poor girl. Yes, of course I'll stay with the children."

"Thank you," Michaela said, turning around and heading out of the room.

"Michaela, can you stop it?" Elizabeth asked.

She turned back around, clutching the doorframe and swallowing hard. "Probably not."

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. "Go ahead. Everything will be fine here."

Kirk rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Sully sat to his right and the Reverend was on his left, clutching his cane and Bible.

Kirk quickly snapped to attention as Michaela opened the front door, shutting it after her. There were a few spots of blood on her apron and she was drying her hands on a towel. Sully knew by the look of helplessness on her face that she hadn't been able to do anything for the baby.

"Faye's resting now," she said hoarsely. "She's fine."

Kirk rose to his feet, sniffling. Michaela had explained to him how dire the situation was, that the baby's lungs were still very underdeveloped, and that once it was born it was unlikely it would be able to breathe very well on its own if at all, but he kept holding out hope that things would turn out all right. He had seen Michaela work miracles before and he was hoping against hope she would work one again now for their child.

"The baby?" he asked with trepidation.

Her lip quivered and her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry, Kirk. It was just too early."

"Why'd this happen?" he asked, shaking his head. "What'd we do wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied immediately. "Faye was healthy, she was taking good care of herself. Sometimes labor starts early and we just don't know why. You can see her now."

He glanced through the clinic door window worriedly. "Dr. Mike, will you….will you come, too?"

"Oh. Of course," she said, grasping his arm and opening the door. She guided Kirk inside and led him to the examination table in the center of the room where Faye was laying, tucked under a thick sheet and closing her eyes.

Kirk approached her tentatively and found her hand, squeezing it tightly in his.

Faye slowly opened her eyes, her lips turning up ever so slightly at the sight of her husband. "Darlin'," she whispered.

"Hey, honey," he whispered back, stroking her brow. "How ya feelin', sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kirk."

"Hush. Dr. Mike says it was an accident. It wasn't anything we did."

"It was a little girl."

He smiled softly. "A girl, huh? Another girl? I thought for sure we managed a boy this time."

"I wanna see her, Kirk." She glanced up at Michaela. "Dr. Mike, please let me see her."

"Faye, I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Michaela murmured, stepping closer to the table. "She…she won't look like a full term baby."

"I don't care. It's my child. I wanna hold her. Say goodbye. Please. Please."

Kirk glanced up, nodding his approval.

Michaela nodded back and walked to her cabinet, pulling out a few fresh hand towels. Then she entered the front recovery room, shutting the door behind her and approaching the table where she had wrapped the baby in a small sheet for Jake to come get in the morning. She tearfully unwrapped the sheet, swallowing hard. It was a wholly formed little human being, with ten fingers and toes and tiny but perfect features and paper thin ears. There was nothing wrong with her physically that Michaela could tell. She only needed several more weeks in the womb and she probably would have done just fine. She was about three pounds, and fit easily in Michaela's hands. She lifted her up with the gentlest of care and laid her in the center of one of the towels. Then she wrapped her up tightly so that only her face could be seen, and carried the precious bundle back to the main room.

"Here she is," she said hoarsely, gently laying the baby across Faye's chest.

"Oh, look," Faye murmured, a soft smile coming to her face. "Oh, Kirk. She's beautiful, ain't she?"

Kirk stroked his wife's hair lovingly. "She looks like you, honey. Look at those little lips."

Faye glanced at Michaela. "Dr. Mike, could you ask the Reverend to come in? Maybe he could say a prayer."

"Certainly." She turned and opened the front door where Sully and the Reverend were still sitting quietly on the bench.

"They're asking for you, Reverend," she said.

"Yes," he replied, rising to his feet and making his way to the door.

Michaela stepped out onto the porch and shut the door after the Reverend.

Sully stood and drew her into a firm hug. She immediately let go all the tears she had been working so hard to hold back in front of Kirk and Faye, bursting into quiet sobs as she clung to Sully. She could tell he was crying too, drawing in his chest quickly every few seconds as he held her all the tighter. At last he lowered his hand and rested it atop her belly, caressing it reassuringly. She brought her hand up to his and squeezed hard, looking down through her tears as he slowly rocked her.

Sully crouched behind Michaela in the outhouse, gathering her hair together in one hand and rubbing her back with the other. She had been throwing up on and off for the past hour. She was enduring it all bravely, resting quietly when her stomach calmed and leaning back over the commode when she felt queasy again. After awhile she was just gagging and occasionally bringing up perhaps a small amount of water, and he was starting to get very concerned.

"What do ya want me to do?" he whispered. "Wanna try some weak tea?"

"No, I'll throw it up," she replied as she dabbed at her mouth with her handkerchief.

"I'll tell you what you can do. You can go get Andrew," Elizabeth spoke up suddenly as she wheeled her chair toward them.

"Mother, no," Michaela protested.

"I don't think it's such a bad idea, Michaela," Sully said. "I never seen ya like this."

"There's nothing he can do. It's a waste of our hard-earned money," she said. She felt the gag reflex again and leaned over the commode in an instant, retching forcefully, coughing and bringing up nothing but a tiny amount of water. Sully quickly shifted to hold her hair from her face, suddenly very frightened. He half expected her to be bringing up blood by now the way she was so forcefully heaving, but thankfully she hadn't. Not yet anyway, and he certainly didn't want it to get to that point without a doctor to help.

"Good Lord," Elizabeth muttered. "How long do you want us to let you carry on like this?"

"We should get 'im," Sully said firmly.

"Besides, it's my money to waste. I'm paying for it," Elizabeth said. "And I don't want to hear any more arguing. I'll stay with her, Sully. Ride out and get him."

He kissed Michaela's head and got to his feet. He touched Elizabeth's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Just hurry," Elizabeth replied.

Michaela was so weak by the time Andrew arrived she couldn't even stand. Sully dragged her out of the outhouse and carried her to the dining room table, laying her on it and balling up his jacket to place beneath her head.

"Can you hold this under your tongue?" Andrew placed a thermometer between Michaela's lips and she weakly pursed them around it.

"That's good. Just hold that there," Sully whispered.

Andrew pulled out his stethoscope and listened to her heart, then felt her pulse palpitations. Her blood pressure felt weak, not surprising given how debilitated she looked.

"Any cramping? Chills?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Well, morning sickness can be quite severe for some women," Andrew explained. "But I'd like to rule out things like food poisoning or dysentery first."

"No, I'm sure it's nothing like that. Believe it or not I do this every morning," Michaela murmured hoarsely.

"Dysentery? Oh good gracious," Elizabeth murmured.

He removed the thermometer and examined it in the light. "Ninety-eight," Andrew said, shaking out the thermometer. "Normal."

Elizabeth wrinkled her brow. Michaela's eyes looked glassy and unfocused. "Michaela?"

Sully shifted forward restlessly. "Michaela? Talk to us." He patted her cheek. "Michaela, come on." He drew in his breath fearfully as her eyes rolled back and her eyelids fluttered.

"Dr. Cook!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Let's try to get some water in her. She's dehydrated," Andrew said calmly.

Sully raced off to the kitchen, filled a glass with water from the pump and returned. He lifted her head up and held the glass to his lips.

"Come on, drink some water," he soothed, guiding a small portion of the liquid into her mouth. "Good girl."

"You need to drink lots of water, sweetheart," Elizabeth said, grasping her hand worriedly. "Dr. Cook says you're dehydrated."

Michaela focused on her mother and took another few sips of water.

"Ya with us?" Sully asked, patting her cheek again. "Michaela? Ya with us?"

"Yes," she replied, looking up at him anxiously. "Yes."

Sully sighed with relief and kissed her head.

"Keep giving her water. A little at a time," Andrew instructed, shifting her nightgown up to expose her belly and gently pressing his hands to it. "How far along is she?"

"Four and a half months," Sully said.

He wrinkled his brow. "Eighteen weeks? Usually morning sickness should stop by now."

"Not necessarily," Elizabeth spoke up. "I was afflicted with this very thing the entire time I was convalescing with her. I just don't remember it was quite this bad, but perhaps I've chosen to forget. I tend to block out traumatic occurrences. That particular convalescence and delivery being one of them." She smiled softly. "And some of Michaela's childhood as well." Michaela was too ill to smile at her joke. Elizabeth sobered and squeezed her hand.

"I've heard of extended morning sickness," Andrew said with a nod. "It's rare, but it happens. The important thing is to guard against dehydration and I think you'll come through fine."

"She just seems kinda thin," Sully spoke up, clasping Michaela's other hand. "I'm worried she ain't gettin' enough to eat."

"Of course she's not. Look at her," Elizabeth protested. "Just a little waif of a thing."

"Well, you could try some crackers or bread in the morning, before you get out of bed," Andrew suggested. "Perhaps some tea. Drink as much water as you can when you're not feeling so nauseated. And if you can, I want you to eat a small meal between lunch and supper, and another before bed. Other than that I'm afraid there's not a lot we can do. You are thin, but I think the baby's managing to get enough nourishment. As long as you continue to gain weight at a steady rate I wouldn't worry too much."

"I told you," Michaela muttered. "Mother, you're wasting your money."

"Enough of that," Elizabeth scolded. "If I want to waste my money I'll waste my money. Hush."

Andrew put his stethoscope back in his ears and pressed the bell to Michaela's stomach, slowly moving it around.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Seeing if I can find the heartbeat," he replied with a soft smile. "It's early, but we'll give it a try."

Sully grasped Michaela's hand and leaned forward in anticipation. He glanced at his wife. She had closed her eyes, turning her head to the side apathetically. He couldn't blame her. She had had quite a rough morning.

"Ah. There it is," Andrew spoke up. "Well, that didn't take long. There's the heart."

"Just one right?" Sully asked wryly. He saw a faint smile come across Elizabeth's lips.

"Just one," Andrew replied with a soft chuckle. He held the bell firmly in place and handed the stethoscope to Sully. "Listen to that. That should be some comfort to you."

Sully burst into a big smile and smoothed Michaela's hair lovingly. "Michaela, that's our baby's heart. I hear it."

Elizabeth grasped Michaela's other hand. "Oh, there, see? She's fine."

Sully removed the stethoscope from his ears. "Michaela, listen."

She shook her head, eyes still closed.

He wrinkled his brow, taken aback. Michaela always loved to listen to the baby's heartbeat when she was pregnant before. She was constantly calling him over to listen, too, and oftentimes he remembered finding her napping with her stethoscope still in her ears, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump.

"She's tired," Elizabeth explained helpfully. "Let her rest."

He nodded and handed the stethoscope back to Andrew. "Sounds good, huh?"

"Sounds fine," he replied, tucking the stethoscope back in his bag and clasping it closed. "I think you should take it easy from now on. Stay home for a few days and cut back on your hours at the clinic. And I'd like you to start coming to see me regularly so we can monitor your pregnancy."

She opened her eyes. "Andrew, are you sure that's necessary?"

"Of course it is," Elizabeth said firmly. "Enough is enough. You're going to see him whenever he thinks and that's the end of it."

"Listen to your ma," Sully murmured, giving her hand a soft kiss.

She sighed. "Andrew, could you check on Faye for me today? I don't think I'm going to make it out of the house."

"Mrs. Davis? Is something wrong?"

Sully swallowed hard, squeezing Michaela's hand. "She went into labor last night," he explained. "Baby didn't make it."

"Oh, no," he murmured. "Yes, of course I will. I'll check on her."

Elizabeth pulled out a few bills from her purse on the table and handed them up to Andrew. "Dr. Cook. I hope this covers it."

"Yes, Mrs. Quinn. Thank you."

"Thank you. Thank goodness this town has another doctor."

"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate," he replied, heading for the door and walking outside.

"How ya feelin' now?" Sully asked impatiently.

"Embarrassed. And I still have to throw up," she muttered.

"Here ya go. Here's the basin right here whenever ya need," he murmured, placing a small emeses basin atop her chest.

"Well, I don't care if you're embarrassed," Elizabeth retorted. "You're going to take good care of yourself the next several months if I have anything to say about it. Why is it that doctors think the same rules don't apply to them?"

She looked away, eyes welling with tears.

Sully smoothed her brow. "Michaela, what's wrong? Is it Faye?"

"I don't know," Michaela admitted. "I don't know what it is."

"Ya just don't seem yourself," he added worriedly.

"What do you want, Sully? How would you feel if you were sick as a dog?" Elizabeth demanded sourly. "Precisely. Now get her up to bed where she can rest properly."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a soft smile, grasping Michaela's arms and helping her to sit up.

Claudette stepped down from the steaming afternoon train and looked around timidly. Townsfolk were staring at her and a few women were whispering about her stylish and expensive hat, gown and parasol. She cringed as a dirty miner carrying a shovel brushed passed her and spit tobacco juice on the platform a mere inches from her polished white boots.

"Oh! Well, I never," she muttered. She spotted the telegraph office and ascended the steps. Horace was inside sorting the mail that just came off the train. "Pardon me." She found the small bell Horace put out for customers and pounded on it urgently. "Pardon me. Some service please?"

Horace turned to face her, looking her up and down. "Uh, what can I do for you?"

"Finally. Could you please tell me where I can obtain a streetcar?"

"Streetcar?"

"Yes, I'm trying to get to my sister's residence and I understand it's quite far and-"

"Ma'am, Colorado Springs doesn't have streetcars."

She blinked. "How can it not have streetcars?"

He gestured down the street. "You need to go somewhere you'll have to rent a wagon from Robert E. Down that way."

"Rent a wagon," she breathed.

He nodded. "From Robert E. The blacksmith."

Claudette turned and lifted her skirts, making her way carefully down the street. She glanced to her left at the small bank, barbershop and general store, shaking her head. She spotted the coopering sign and Robert E. pounding away at a horseshoe beside a blazing fire.

"Mr. E?" she called. "Are you Mr. E?"

Robert E. slowly looked up. "I'm Robert E. Can I help you?"

"I need to rent a wagon. Do you have any available?"

He stopped hammering and joined her at the fence. "Where you headed?"

"The Mr. Byron Sully residence. Apparently it doesn't have a precise address but I've been told it's about four miles from town."

He eyed her fancy dress. "Are you one of Dr. Mike's sisters?"

"Yes," she replied impatiently. "Now about that wagon."

Robert E. gestured at the meager wagon outside and the old horse hitched to it. "I can rent you that one there and the mare for a dollar a week."

She cleared her throat, looking at the wagon timidly and then back at him. "I see. And how might one go about driving it?"

He took off his apron. "Listen, I'll just bring you out there myself. I'm about to close up."

"Ah. All right, as long as I get there in one piece. And I'll need you to pick up my luggage at the station as well. How much is your fee?"

He let out a soft chuckle. "Nothin'."

She wrinkled her brow. "You're going to load my luggage and drive me four miles out of town for nothing?"

He glanced at her hesitantly. "…That's what I said."

"No wonder this town is so poor," she muttered as he helped her up into the wagon.

Robert E. pulled the wagon up to the homestead. Claudette looked up at it, unimpressed. He jumped down and began unloading her heavy trunks and hat boxes. She glanced behind her and cleared her throat impatiently.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, dropping a few hat boxes on the porch stairs.

She held one gloved hand down to him. "If you'd be so kind, Mr. E."

Robert E. returned to her side and reached one hand up, helping her to the ground. Then he returned to the back and heaved her trunks to the ground.

Sully opened the front door, still holding his napkin. His mouth dropped open. "Claudette?" he breathed.

He looked at Robert E., who raised his eyebrows helplessly.

"See you around town, Sully," he quickly said, climbing back onto the wagon, grabbing the reins and taking off before Sully could ask questions.

Sully walked a few steps down the porch, glancing at all the luggage. "Uh, what are you doin' here?" he uttered.

"To see Mother, what do you think?" Claudette retorted. "Where is she? Still breathing I hope."

"Inside, but-"

She raised her skirts and quickly climbed the steps, brushing past him and walking inside. The family was gathered around the supper table, dining on roast beef, potatoes and carrots. Elizabeth sat in her wheelchair at the head of the table and Michaela sat beside her.

Byron brightened at the sight of her. "Aunt Claudie!" he cried.

Michaela lowered her knife and fork to her plate. "Oh, my God," she murmured.

"Mother!" Claudette said, walking across the room and embracing her tightly. "Thank heavens you're safe, that you're all right!"

Elizabeth beamed, happy to see her. "Oh, Claudette. You came all the way out here. I never would have believed it."

Tears of relief appeared in her eyes and she kissed Elizabeth's cheek. "I had to be certain you're all right. And I couldn't bear being apart from you any longer. I just couldn't bear it."

"I've missed you, too, dear," Elizabeth replied.

Michaela cleared her throat and stood. "Would you like something to eat? Let me set another place at the table."

Claudette ignored her and kept her eyes on Elizabeth. "Please tell her I ate on the train. I'd just like to get some sleep now if she wouldn't mind showing me to the guest quarters."

Elizabeth sighed. "Not this again, Claudette. For heaven's sake."

"Tell her, Mother," Claudette said firmly.

Elizabeth grudgingly glanced at Michaela. "Claudette would like to be shown to her room."

Brian pushed out his chair and stepped forward. "I'll show you, Aunt Claudette."

"I'll bring your things inside," Sully said, walking out the door.

Brian took her arm and lead her upstairs.

Elizabeth watched her go as Michaela stared at her.

"Don't look at me, I didn't know she was coming," Elizabeth said defensively.

"I'm not looking at you," Michaela replied, glancing at her plate and taking a bite of potatoes.

"Oh, goodie. Aunt Claudie's here," Byron said. "She let's us have all the fun we want."

"You children behave for your auntie," Michaela said firmly. "Don't walk all over her."

"We don't walk on her, Mama," Katie protested.

Sully carried one of Claudette's trunks inside and headed to the stairs. Michaela tried to catch his eye, hoping to give him a sympathetic smile, but his brow was fixed crossly and he was outright avoiding looking at her.

She sighed and turned her attention back to the children. "Eat before it gets cold," she said hoarsely.

Michaela rapped lightly on Katie's door, carrying a stack of towels under her arm.

"Claudette?" she called. "May I come in?"

Not surprisingly, she received no answer. She slowly opened the door to reveal Claudette in her nightclothes beside the bed, tying the laces of her collar tightly to her chin. She didn’t even look at her younger sister.

"I brought you some towels for the morning," Michaela said, stepping forward and placing them on the bed. "I'll keep Katie with Sully and me tonight. I thought you might like a little privacy your first night."

Michaela paused, not expecting a reply. Claudette put on a frilly nightcap and tucked her hair under it with an impertinent frown.

"Well, goodnight," Michaela finally said.

She walked to the door, lingering in the doorway for a moment hoping Claudette might say something, before shutting it after her.

Michaela found Sully in the barn roughly brushing down his horse. His brow was fixed firmly and sweat trickled down his temple.

"I didn't know she was coming. Mother didn't either," Michaela said helplessly. "Sully, I'm sorry."

He suddenly stopped brushing and stepped toward her. "You want me to let her stay under my roof when she ain't even speakin' to my wife?" he said angrily.

"What do you expect me to do? Turn her away?"

"Yes, turn her away. She's got a right to see your ma. But she don't got a right to treat ya the way she is. Send her to the Château if she wants to spend some time out here. She reminds everybody often enough she can afford things like that."

"Now you're being unfair," she replied. "You can't fault her for being wealthy."

"Why not? She faults us for bein' poor."

"Sully, she doesn't think we're poor," she protested.

"No, just destitute," he retorted, walking briskly back to the horse and running the brush down its neck forcefully.

"Sully, she misses Mother. I can't blame her. I missed Mother myself when I left home for the first time. It's natural no matter what age you are. Besides, I'm not going to send her away tonight. She's already gone to bed." She swallowed. "I told her Katie could sleep with us. Is that all right?"

He sighed. "I guess."

She walked toward him, resting one hand on the side of the stall. "We did tell my sisters they could visit any time."

He slowed his brushing. "I remember. I just didn't think they'd take us up on it."

She smiled and stepped a little closer, kissing his shoulder. "You're handsome when you're angry."

He stopped brushing and turned to face her, caressing her arm. "Michaela, I'm worried about ya is all. It's hard enough on ya tryin' to take care of your ma not to have that sister of yours comin' in here givin' ya a piece of her mind all day long."

"You forgot. She's not speaking to me," she replied with a small smile.

"All right, tellin' everybody else to give ya a piece of her mind," he replied.

She giggled softly. "You have to give her credit. She's really kept up this not speaking to me plan longer than I ever thought possible. I have to admit I'm somewhat amused by it."

He permitted himself a soft smile, putting the brush aside. "Guess all the Quinn women are pretty stubborn. Don't know how your pa did it."

She gave him a reassuring hug and kissed his cheek. "I'll ask Mother to talk to her about staying at the Château. Even if we were getting along we don't have a lot of room for more visitors with my mother living with us."

He rubbed her back and held her close. "I'm sorry I ain't been patient," he murmured.

"Oh, Sully, you've been more patient than I could ever ask for," she whispered. "I can't tell you enough how much that means to me. You've been so wonderful."

"Let's head to bed. Mama needs her rest."

"So do you, Papa," she replied lovingly, putting her arm around his waist as they headed back to the house.

Claudette sat on Elizabeth's bed and held her hand.

"Well, you do seem better," she admitted. "Despite Colorado, mind you. And her."

"Claudette, it wouldn't hurt for you to show a little appreciation for everything Michaela's doing for me."

"Appreciation? I'm supposed to appreciate that she took you away from all us?"

"They built me a nice room, you have to admit that," Elizabeth replied.

"It's not quite the shack I envisioned," she said, glancing around. "But it's still very primitive. And have you seen that washroom? You realize it's just a privy attached to the house."

"Yes, well, I try not to think about that."

"You might as well go outside and dig a hole," she added with disgust.

Elizabeth tentatively cleared her throat. "Perhaps you might be more comfortable at the hotel a few miles down the road."

"I didn't know a town like this even had a hotel."

"It's Mr. Lodge's, the banker from Boston. The accommodations aren't quite what they could be, but they're the best you can find around here."

"Well, I'd certainly prefer a hotel to this dump. Yes, I'll stay there while I visit."

Elizabeth sighed, grateful that Claudette had readily agreed to check in there and that she didn't have to tell her Sully had insisted on it. "Good, Sully said he could drive you out there this evening."

"Well, she's put on a good amount of weight. If I didn't know any better I'd say she's in a family way."

Elizabeth instantly smiled. "Michaela? Yes she is. She's nearly five months along."

"I'd like to know how exactly they plan to feed and clothe yet another one. You'll have to loan them some of your money or they'll starve."

"Claudette, don't say anything," Elizabeth said firmly. "They're so happy about this. Please don't spoil it."

"You're allowed to say what's on your mind. Why aren't I?"

"Just please, leave her alone," Elizabeth pleaded. "She and Sully have been through so much losing Jack. This is the first real bit of good news they've had in a long time."

"Auntie, Auntie!" Byron cried as he ran into the room. He grabbed her hand and pulled. "Come on. I wanna show you the animals. Come on."

"What, no good morning for your grandmother?" Elizabeth asked.

Byron let go of Claudette's hand and jumped onto the bed, giving Elizabeth a kiss. "Morning, Gran'ma. Aren't you happy Auntie's here? Come on, Auntie. Come on."

"Go on, Claudette. Go see the animals," Elizabeth encouraged.

Claudette reluctantly got up and followed the little boy out of the room. Michaela was in the kitchen building up the fire in the stove.

"Where are you going, young man?" she called.

"Showin' Auntie the animals," he said impatiently. "Can I, Mama?"

"May I," Claudette corrected sternly.

"May I," Michaela said at the same time. She shared an awkward glance with her older sister, who immediately averted her eyes.

Byron sighed. "May I? Please?"

Michaela struck a match and dropped it into the stove. "You may, but don't forget your chores. I need eggs for breakfast."

Byron ran into the kitchen and grabbed the egg basket on the table, then ran back to Claudette.

"Let's go," Byron said as he dragged Claudette out the front door and to the barn. "Do you like Colorado, Auntie?" he asked enthusiastically. "I'm glad you came to see me."

"I came to see my mother and no I don't like Colorado as a matter of fact."

"Why not? It's not so boring like Boston," he replied, pushing open the barn door and leading her to the stalls. "That's Mama's horse Flash," he said, pointing at the mare. "That's Papa's horse Buck. That's Taffy, Brian's horse. I can't have a horse yet. I'm too little. But sometimes Mama let's me ride up with her."

"Oh, well that sounds safe," Claudette replied sarcastically.

"'Cept she can't ride anymore just now 'cause I guess the baby's in the way." He led her over to the cow, who was chewing on some hay. "That's the cow. Wanna milk her? It's fun."

"No. Well, thank you for the grand tour. I'll just leave you to do your chores." She took out her handkerchief and sniffled, dabbing at her nose.

"No, you can help me," he protested, pulling on her hand and leading her to the chicken coop where the hens were cackling loudly.

She sneezed dramatically into her handkerchief. "Uh, all this hay!"

"Hay makes me sneeze, too!" Byron exclaimed, thrilled to share something in common with his aunt.

Claudette groaned and blew her nose.

"Here, chick, chick," Byron said, nudging a hen out of the way and grabbing the brown egg she had laid on her nest. He put it in the basket. "You try, Auntie."

"Oh, they're disgusting," she remarked. "No, thank you."

"You don't like eggs?"

"I like eggs. I just can't stand chickens. I do believe they're the stupidest animal there is."

He put a few more eggs in his basket. "If you don't like chickens who gathers the eggs at your place then?"

"We don't have a hen house! We live in the city, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Then how do you get eggs?" he asked curiously, reaching beneath another chicken and pulling out two eggs.

"My maid Dolly brings us eggs every morning from the market of course. How do you think?"

"How do they get to the market?"

"I don't know, they just appear there magically. I don't sit around pondering these kinds of things. My goodness you always have a lot of questions. You really shouldn't pry so much."

"They get there by magic?" he asked, fascinated.

She chuckled. "No! Never mind!"

He smiled widely and hugged her waist. "I'm glad you came. I wanna show you my school, too. You'll come, won't you, Auntie?"

She gently patted his head, sighing. "I suppose. If you want."

"Let's go help Mama cook breakfast," he said, grabbing her hand again and heading back to the house.

"You help her cook breakfast," she replied. "I'm going to spend time with my mother."

Claudette carried a small stack of firewood inside and to the front fireplace, dumping the wood on the floor. Then she added a big log to the dying fire. Satisfied it was burning effectively, she returned to Elizabeth's room.

"Are you warmer now, Mother?" Claudette asked, smoothing the quilt on Elizabeth's bed. "I managed to build up the fire a little."

"Yes, I'm better."

"The chores seem endless out here without any servants. I'm all muddy and perspiring," Claudette griped. "I feel like I need a bath."

"There's another thing that takes all day," Elizabeth replied.

"Mother, I'll get straight to the point. I'm here to take you home."

"Oh, Claudette."

"Come live with me instead," she replied. "Mother, please. For your own sake!"

"Why don't we just enjoy your visit out here and not talk about this? It just upsets you, dear."

At that moment someone knocked on the door. Claudette sat down on the settee as if she hadn't even heard it and dabbed at her neck with her handkerchief.

"What are you doing, Claudette? Answer the door," Elizabeth said.

She stood. "Oh, I forgot. There's no butler to answer." She walked to the front door and looked out the stained glass window, spotting Cloud Dancing waiting on the porch. She ran back to Elizabeth's room. "Mother, it's an Indian!"

Elizabeth waved one hand. "Oh. It's probably Cloud Dancing."

"Who? Cloud Dancing?"

"It's a long story. Let him in. He's harmless I assure you."

Claudette reluctantly returned to the door and very slowly opened it.

"Good afternoon," Cloud Dancing said. "Are Michaela and Sully home?"

Claudette's mouth fell open. "Oh, you speak English. I had no idea."

Cloud Dancing raised his eyebrows, holding up a small pouch. "I've brought something for Michaela's mother."

"Oh, well, she's sleeping. I'll tell her you called. Good day."

"Claudette, let him inside for heaven sake," Elizabeth shouted.

"Oh, it appears she's awake now," Claudette said, clearing her throat. "Come in."

She shut the door and guided Cloud Dancing to Elizabeth's room.

"It's your fault if he scalps us, Mother," Claudette muttered as she resumed her seat on the settee.

"Cloud Dancing, I see you've met one of my daughters. Claudette."

"Yes, I knew she was your daughter," he replied evenly, opening his pouch.

"I'm afraid Sully's not here," Elizabeth explained. "He's gone into town to help Robert E."

"I've brought something for you," he replied, walking to her bed and pulling out some dried pieces of bark from his pouch. "It's some more slippery elm."

Claudette stared at the bark in horror. "Bark? You want her to eat tree bark?"

"You don't eat the bark. You eat the inside of the bark. Mix it with your food," he explained.

"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Dancing, is it? But we have Mother's care under control. We'll let you know if we need you."

"I'll leave it here," he said, putting the pieces of slippery elm in a basin on the table.

"I'll just see you out," Claudette said, standing up and following Cloud Dancing back to the door. She opened it and shut it firmly after him, then locked it with the key on the bureau. She held onto the key and returned to Elizabeth's room.

"Well, that's the first real Indian I've ever seen. That's something to write home about."

"Was it everything you hoped for?" Elizabeth replied dryly.

"Well, it certainly wasn't what I expected. I didn't know they just let them walk around wild like that. I thought they were on Reservations."

"They don't. I'm sure he had a day pass."

Claudette picked up the bark and sniffed it, letting out a chuckle. "I can't believe he thinks you're actually going to ingest this dreadful thing. You'll be dead in a day."

"I already am taking it. Michaela mixes it with my oatmeal every morning. She says it's good for someone convalescing."

"What?!" Claudette exclaimed. "Oh, Mother, really. It's bark!" She picked it up with disgust. "What a bunch of foolishness. This high altitude has gone to my sister's head." She stormed out of the room and opened the back door, tossing out the bark. Then she returned to Elizabeth's room, brushing off her hands. "There, that's taken care of."

Michaela carried a crate of groceries up the porch as the children followed after her, their schoolbooks and lunch pails in tow.

"Red Eagle, sweetheart, could you get the door?" she asked.

Red Eagle grabbed the knob, surprised when it wouldn't move. "It's stuck."

"Stuck? It can't be stuck."

Byron jutted in front of Red Eagle and grabbed the knob, straining to turn it. "Ehh! I think it's locked, Mama." He put down his books and banged on the stained glass. "Auntie! Aunt Claudie!" he shouted. "The door's locked! Let us in!"

Katie rushed to the front window and rapped on it. "Auntie! Help us!"

"For heaven's sake calm down, I'm coming!" Claudette called, quickly crossing the room and pulling out the key from her petticoat pocket. She unlocked the door and opened it.

"Why'd you lock the door, Aunt Claudie?" Byron asked. "We couldn't get in."

"That's the point, isn't it? I wanted to keep out the wild Indians."

"Oh," Byron replied, dumping his books and lunch pail on the table.

Michaela raised her eyebrows and carried the crate of groceries to the kitchen. Then she headed toward Elizabeth's room. The children had already beaten her there and were hugging Elizabeth and telling her about their school day.

"Cloud Dancing stopped by this afternoon, Michaela," Elizabeth said as she put aside her needlepoint and wrapped her arm around Katie.

She instantly brightened. "Oh, he did? I'm sorry we missed him. Did he bring by the slippery elm?"

Claudette entered the room, crossing her arms sourly.

"Well, yes and no," Elizabeth said hesitantly.

"What does that mean?" Michaela asked, grasping her mother's wrist to feel her pulse.

"Tell her, Mother. Tell her I threw it out," Claudette said firmly.

"Threw it out?" Michaela exclaimed, spinning around to face Claudette. "But Mother needs those herbs."

"Yes, like she needs a headache."

Katie giggled quietly, covering her mouth.

"Claudette thinks it might not be the best idea my taking something like that," Elizabeth explained. "She thinks more conventional medicine would be appropriate. And I'm wondering if she's right."

"Oh, tell her the truth, Mother. If this is her idea of aggressive therapy, of how she's going to turn things around for you and cause a miracle to happen, she's got another thing coming. Oh, Mother, you could do so much better than this."

Michaela stood straighter. "It was certainly good enough for George Washington. He and his troops survived on slippery elm for several days during the winter at Valley Forge."

Claudette glanced at her mother. "Yes, well, tell her we're not starving and this isn't Valley Forge."

"Auntie says this isn't Valley Forge," Byron whispered, looking up at Michaela. "This is Colorado."

"We learned about George Washington in school," Red Eagle added.

"Who knows how long Cloud Dancing spent gathering that, or what he had to do to get a day pass to bring it by," Michaela said angrily. "And she just throws it out without even consulting me?"

"Michaela, now she's just concerned for me," Elizabeth said. "It does look rather strange in its raw form, you have to admit. I'm much more inclined to take it when you grind it up and I can't see it when you add it to my food."

"I have nothing to grind up now," she retorted.

"Tell her I said good," Claudette added. "That was exactly my intention! Mother you tell her that I think she's the most-"

"Now, now, no behaving like children in front of the children," Elizabeth said firmly, patting Katie's back. "Tell Grandma about school, dears. And we'll start on your homework."

Sully lifted Claudette down from the wagon and guided her to the ground. It was a silent ride out to the Château, and he didn't care. He wasn't one for idle chatter in the first place, and he certainly wasn't interested in entertaining Michaela's stubborn and rude sister. He just wanted to get back home in time to help put the children to bed and make sure Michaela got to bed at a decent hour herself.

He led her up the steps as a few bellhops began unloading her luggage. He approached the front desk where Preston was speaking sternly with a bellhop. Preston immediately stopped talking when he spotted Sully and the beautiful, red-headed woman beside him.

"Sully, what are you doing here?" he blurted.

"Don't worry, I ain't stayin' more than a minute. This is Michaela's sister Claudette from Boston. She needs a room."

"Your finest room," Claudette added.

"Michaela's sister," Preston breathed, coming around from behind the desk and clasping her gloved hand in his. "Preston A. Lodge the third. Enchanted."

"Why, thank you. Likewise," she replied, a little surprised.

"I'll put you in the presidential suite," Preston said, returning to the desk and flipping through his ledger.

"But, Mr. Lodge, the presidential suite is booked tonight," the young bellhop spoke up.

"Let me handle this," Preston said under his breath. "Go supervise her luggage."

"Yes sir," he replied immediately.

Preston dipped his pen in an inkwell. "Just sign here, Mrs….?"

"Atkins," she replied. "And it's Miss."

He cleared his throat. "Certainly. My apologies," he replied, unable to suppress a small, pleased grin.

"I'll pick ya up in the mornin'," Sully said, briefly touching her arm.

"Wait. No need. No need," Preston said, holding up one hand. "I'll drive Miss Atkins to and from the homestead whenever she requires. Compliments of the Château and Hot Springs Health Resort."

"That's kind of ya, but I can take care of it," Sully said.

"Please, I insist."

"I suppose that's all right," Claudette spoke up. "After all, then you won't have to make the trip all the way out here, Mr. Sully."

"Fine," Sully replied. "G'night."

"Goodnight, Sully," Preston said, holding his arm out to Claudette. "This way please. Let me show you to your accommodations."

"He put her in the presidential suite. And he says he'll drive her out here every day," Sully said as he sat on the bed and took off his boots.

Michaela raised her eyebrows, glancing up as she turned a page in her book. "Really? That was nice of him."

"Ya know sometimes I wonder how somebody like her and somebody like you came from the same ma and pa. The Cheyenne would call her tsémeotse. Spoiled."

"Sully, be nice."

"That is me bein' nice when it comes to that sister."

She chuckled softly as he got in bed beside her.

"What're we gonna do about Thanksgivin' now that she's here?" he asked.

"I don't know. Ask her to join us I imagine." She gazed at him sternly. "Sully, we have to invite her. Whether or not she's speaking to me she's still family."

He got on his side and reached his hand out to stroke her stomach. "Know what the Cheyenne would say about you?"

She glanced at him nervously. "What?"

"Tâh pe'â séhe."

"What's that mean?"

"Means she's got a big belly," he replied lovingly. He shifted up and kissed her cheek. "Brian found that baby name book in the library. Maybe we oughta start lookin' through it."

She sighed softly, shaking her head.

He raised his eyebrows with surprise. "Ya got somethin' in mind already?"

"No. It's just a little early to be thinking about names, don't you think?"

"When it comes to you and me, no. Could take us awhile to agree."

She put her book aside silently, dimmed the lamp, and then shifted down to her side, facing away from him.

He watched her for a long moment. "Ya feelin' all right?" he asked. "Want me to rub your back?"

"No, you don't have to."

"I want to," he whispered, shifting down lower and working both hands beneath her nightgown to knead and caress her shoulders and back. "How's this, better?"

She swallowed hard and nodded.

"I'm gonna put aside the money I'm makin' at Robert E's this week. I want ya to take it to the mercantile and order whatever ya think we should have. Baby clothes, diapers, bottles."

"But we need the money now."

"Michaela, sooner or later we gotta start gettin' ready. This baby's gonna need things we don't got."

"I shouldn't have given away all of Jack's things," she murmured.

"That's all right. They went to folks who could use 'em. Sides, we never counted on this."

"I'm sorry about that, too. I shouldn’t have let us be so careless. I should have realized this might happen."

"Hey, don't be sorry. So it's a surprise, but it's a good surprise. We'll make it work." He paused a moment. "Michaela? Is everything all right?"

"…Sully?"

"Hm?"

"I'm worried about Faye and Kirk. I haven't seen them in town since..."

"Ya wanna go visit 'em?"

"I think we should. They're such dear friends. Perhaps we could bring some soup by after the children's play."

"Sure we can." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Get some sleep. I love you."

"Goodnight," she whispered.