"You must be famished Rosalind," Michaela commented, seizing an opportunity to ease the emotional tension of the last several minutes.  "Why don't the two of you relax before the fire while I brew a pot of tea and warm up some of the eggs from breakfast?  It will give you the chance to sample some of your nephew's cooking," she added, with an impish glance at Sully.

     Rosalind's eyes widened in approval.  "Indeed?" she said.  "My dear Byron, you continue to surprise and amaze me.  There seems to be no end to your talents!"

     Sully reddened self-consciously.  "It ain't nothin' special," he said modestly.  "Just somethin' I picked up in the mining camps."

     "Ah, but don't self yourself short, my dear," Rosalind told him.  "I am sure there are many women who wish that their husbands were as comfortable in the kitchen as they are wielding an axe, planting a field or even sitting behind a desk!"

     Michaela snorted with laughter.

     "What's so funny?" Sully asked.

     "I was just picturing Preston wearing an apron," she said, and giggled again.

     Sully snickered.  "I'd pay to see that."

     "Preston Lodge is our town banker," Michaela said in reply to Rosalind's questioning look.  "He also owns the Chateau."

     "I gather that this Mr. Lodge is not your favorite person?" Rosalind observed.

     "He's a puffed-up, struttin', arrogant-"

     "Sully and Preston don't get along very well," Michaela interrupted her husband hastily.  "Though Sully is right—Preston *is* rather pompous."

     Sully cocked an eyebrow at her.

     "All right--*very* pompous," Michaela conceded, smiling.  "Preston seems to enjoy mocking Sully because of his rustic way of life," she added.

     "How very interesting," Rosalind remarked.  "I wonder if it would surprise Mr. Lodge to know that Byron comes from a titled family."

     "It might take him down a peg or two," Sully said.  "Preston puts a lot of stock in things like that."

     "He *does* seem to be a bit of a snob," Michaela agreed.  "But-we really shouldn't be denigrating poor Preston when he isn't here to defend himself—“   She broke off as Sully abruptly raised a hand to silence her.

     "Listen," he said.

     After a moment Michaela heard it too—the faint sound of hoof-beats coming up the drive.

     Sully moved to the window and eased open the curtain, taking care to hang back from view.  A moment later he turned to Michaela with a mingled look of relief and curiosity.

     "It's Dorothy," he reported.

     Michaela joined him at the window, watching as Dorothy cantered up to the homestead and dismounted from her horse.

     "Is this person a friend?" Rosalind asked.

     "Yeah," Sully responded.  "Dorothy runs the Gazette—she and Michaela are real close.  She and Cloud Dancin' are the only people besides the family, who know I'm still alive."

     "It's very odd for Dorothy to come out here at this time of day," Michaela commented worriedly.  "Something must be wrong--"  Her face paled and she looked at Sully with stricken eyes.  "Katie!" she exclaimed.

     The same thought had occurred to Sully; nonetheless he hastened to calm her.

     "Michaela—“ he began soothingly.

     "But Sully, something might have happened to her!   Or Brian, or Matthew—“

     "Michaela," Sully repeated, putting his arms around her and giving her a brief squeeze.  "Don't borrow trouble.  More than likely, someone just came into the clinic who needs doctorin'."

     Michaela tried to look reassured, but Sully could still see the panic in her eyes.

     Dorothy's knock sounded at the door, and Michaela hurried to answer.

     "Oh hello, Michaela," Dorothy greeted her.  As she stepped inside, she pushed back the hood of her dark blue cloak, revealing a profusion of coppery curls.  The rays of the sun caught her hair and set it aflame.

     "I'm sorry to bother you—“ Dorothy began, but Michaela interrupted her.

     "Has something happened to one of the children?"  she asked anxiously.

     "No, no—they're fine," Dorothy assured her, removing her riding gloves.  "Katie and Brian are at the clinic with Marjorie, and Matthew's at the saloon."

     "The saloon?" Sully repeated in surprise, stepping into view.  Michaela looked equally startled.

     "Sully!  What a nice surprise—it's good to see you," said Dorothy.

     "Thanks Dorothy," he answered.  "But what's this about the saloon?"

     "And why isn't Brian in school?" Michaela chimed in.

     Dorothy's face was troubled.  "There was another raid on the town," she told them.

     "Black Moon and his men?" Sully asked.

     She nodded.  "One of the renegades threw dynamite into the saloon—there was an explosion."

     Michaela, Sully and Rosalind stared at her.  A look of distress shadowed Sully's face.

     "Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt," Dorothy went on.  "But there are a lot of people with cuts from flyin' glass and wood, that need stitchin' up—some broken bones, too.  Andrew was in the café when it happened, and he's takin' care of the injured.  But there's too much for him to handle alone.  They need you."

     "Of course," said Michaela, looking around the room for her medical bag.

     "Jake thought it was too dangerous  to keep the school open, so he told Mrs. Morales to send all the children home," Dorothy continued.  "Matthew is helpin' to clear up the mess at the Gold Nugget."

     "How bad is it?" Sully asked.

     "Well, the buildin's still standin', but there's a lot of damage," she answered.

     Rosalind watched Michaela searching for her bag.  Spotting it on a small table in the corner, she retrieved it and brought it to Michaela.

     "Here you are, my dear," she said.

     "Oh Rosalind, thank you," Michaela said gratefully.  "Please forgive my lack of manners," she added, noticing Rosalind and Dorothy regarding each other politely.  "Let me introduce you.

     "Rosalind, may I present our dear friend and editor of the Gazette, Mrs. Dorothy Jennings.  Dorothy, this is our special guest, Lady Rosalind Sutcliffe."

     The women shook hands.

     "A pleasure, Mrs Jennings," Rosalind said cordially.

     "The pleasure is mine, Lady Sutcliffe," Dorothy replied with a slightly flustered smile.  "Brian told me all about you.  I was hopin' I might interview you for the Gazette—at some less hectic time," she amended.

     "I'm flattered," said Rosalind.  "I would be happy to talk with you sometime soon.  Right now, of course, there are more important matters to attend to."

     "So how are Jake and Hank takin' this, Dorothy?" Sully asked.

     She sighed.  "Jake's handlin' it as well as can be expected," she replied.  "But Hank—well that's another story."  She looked deeply uncomfortable.

     "What about Hank?" Sully asked quietly, as Dorothy hesitated.

     "He was fit to be tied," she said finally.   "Accordin' to Jake, it seems there's been a lot of ugly talk in the saloon the last week or so--mostly incited by Hank.  He's been spoutin' off about all the trouble in town from the Indian raids—gettin' the men all stirred up.  He's got them believin' that none of it would have happened if—I'm sorry Sully—“

     "It's all right Dorothy—go ahead," he said.

     "If it weren't for you," she finished reluctantly.  "After the explosion,  Hank told Jake that he knows someone is supplyin' the renegades with dynamite.  He thinks it's you, Sully.  He's convinced you're still alive."

     Michaela looked at  him in alarm.

     "He can't prove nothin'," Sully assured her, stroking her shoulder.  "Besides, the truth is bound to come out, sooner or later.  I've kept out of sight this long—I can stay in hidin' as long as it takes."

     "But if Sgt. McKay thinks you're alive, he'll send soldiers out looking for you again," Michaela protested.

     "And that ain't all," Dorothy said, looking sober.  "Just before I came out here, Hank gathered everybody together in the center of town and 'appointed' himself the new sheriff."

     "What?" Sully said incredulously.

     "He can't do that!" Michaela exclaimed.  "There has to be an election!"

     "That's what I tried to tell him," Dorothy answered.  "So he took a vote right on the spot."
She didn't need to tell them how it had turned out.

     "He's got the men carryin' guns in town again," she went on.  "And he vowed that his first act as sheriff will be to track down Sully and bring him in."  She turned to face him. "Sully, I just want you to know that not everyone in town feels like Hank does," she added.

     "I appreciate that, Dorothy," he replied.  "Hank's always been a hothead.  Give him some time, he'll cool off."  He spoke calmly, to reassure the women.  But Michaela wondered if he truly believed what he was saying.

     "Sully, I'm worried," she said.

     "Don't fret—it will be all right," he answered, masking his own unease behind an optimistic tone.  "Cloud Dancin' and me are 'sposed to meet with Black Moon tomorrow night.  We're  gonna try to persuade him to break off the attacks."

     "How will you do that?" Michaela asked.

     "If we can get the army to agree to allow the Indians safe passage to the Tongue River Valley, then hopefully Black Moon will stop the raids."

     "Do you think that can work?" Michaela asked doubtfully.

     "I know that Cloud Dancin' is  tryin' to be hopeful, but it's a tall order," Dorothy said,  equally dubious.

     "Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained," Sully said.  He gazed into Michaela's eyes.  "It will be all right," he repeated softly.

     Michaela made an effort to smile, but inside she was unconvinced.  Unfortunately, she had no more time now to pursue the matter further.   A sudden thought struck her, and  she looked down at her pastel-colored gown, realizing that she was not wearing her "widow's garb."

     "I need to change," she said, "and then we should leave."  She ran lightly up the stairs.

     Within five minutes she had returned, clad in the familiar black.  She took her leather coat from its hook and slipped it on.

     "Michaela, I would be happy to go with you and lend assistance," Rosalind offered.  "I'm sure you could use another pair of hands."

     "Thank you Rosalind—that's very generous," Michaela replied.  "But I think it's best if you remain here at the homestead.  You and Sully finish your discussion, as you planned."

     "I agree," said Sully.  "There ain't no need  for you  to get drawn into all this."

     "Michaela and Sully are right," Dorothy echoed, making it unanimous.  "Things in town are real tense right now.  Best to wait a day or two till it settles down a bit."

     "If you insist, I'll abide by your wishes," Rosalind conceded.  But her eyes were anxious as she regarded her nephew and his wife.

     "It was an honor meetin' you," Dorothy said to Rosalind, grasping her hand warmly.  "We'll talk soon."

     "I'll look forward to it," Rosalind answered, summoning a smile.

     "I'll wait for you outside, Michaela," Dorothy added.  She opened the door and stepped out on the porch.  As she closed the door softly behind her, Sully drew Michaela aside.

     "Promise me you'll be careful," he whispered, grasping her shoulders.  "There still might be renegades lurkin' in the woods."

     "I promise," she answered softly, laying her hand against his cheek.  He took her hand in his and kissed her palm.

    "I should be goin' along to protect you," he added.

    It was Michaela's turn to reassure him.

    "Sully, we're just going as far as town—nothing's going to happen."

    “All the same, keep your eyes and ears open—and stay with the main road—don’t be takin’ any shortcuts,” he warned her.
 
     "I give you my word we'll be careful," she assured him.  She slipped her arms around his neck and drew his face down to hers for a kiss.  He pulled her to him tightly, closing his mouth over hers with an almost desperate intensity.   Michaela responded with equal passion.  For a moment he didn't think he could let her go, but then, slowly, he released her.

    "Remember your promise," he reminded her, caressing her hair.

    "I will," she whispered, kissing him lightly once more.  She went over to Rosalind and hugged her briefly.  "I'll return as soon as possible," she added to them both.

    "God bless you, my dear," Rosalind said.

    Michaela picked up her medical bag, and, with a last backward glance, left the house.

    As the door closed behind her, Sully felt a vague sense of foreboding steal over him.  He tried to tell himself that it was just the result of the emotional upheaval he'd been through in the past twenty-four hours.  But the feeling persisted.

    He went to the window and watched Michaela enter the barn to saddle Flash.  A few minutes later she reappeared, leading Flash out of the corral.  She hoisted herself into the saddle, then guided the horse over to where Dorothy waited on her own mount.  Sensing him watching, Michaela turned and waved briefly.  He lifted his hand in an answering wave.  Then she and Dorothy turned their horses and galloped down the drive.

    Sully's feeling of disquiet immediately intensified.   As Flash carried Michaela further and further away from him, his foreboding increased.  Like a virulent species of weed, the panic grew and twisted throughout his gut, finally coiling into a hard, icy ball in the pit of his stomach.

    "I should have gone with her," he thought.