"On second thought," Sully said suddenly.  "Before I answer your questions, I have one for you."

     "You can ask," McKay responded.

     "Did Hank tell you about the wire he got from the sheriff in Denver?"

     "He informed me," said McKay.

     "So you know I was tellin' the truth about the man who attacked Michaela and Dorothy," Sully said.

     "I'll want to wait till after Mr. Lawson returns from questioning this man in Denver before making a final judgement—but yes, the facts seem to support your story,"  McKay conceded.  "Was that all you wanted to know?" he added.

     "Not quite," Sully answered.  He leaned forward.  "Before—did you really believe that I was the one who shot Michaela?"

     McKay didn't answer for several seconds.  "No," he finally admitted.

     "Then why—“

     "I thought you were covering for the renegades," McKay interrupted him.  "Knowing the friendship you have for Cloud Dancing, and this—blind loyalty—you seem to have for all the Indians, it seemed very possible that you might be protecting one or more of them.  By accusing you, I thought I might shock you into admitting the truth."

     "Well, you're honest, at least," Sully commented.  "But that still don't explain everythin'.  You don't know me—and everythin' you heard about me from your superiors before you come here was probably bad.  So why were you so sure I couldn't hurt my wife?"

     Again, McKay waited a long time to reply.  His answer, when it came, was not what Sully expected.

     "Part of it, I suppose, was about Cloud Dancing," McKay began slowly.  "After he sustained the beating, you were willing to commit treason--"

     "That ain't been proved," Sully interjected.

     McKay sighed.  "Agreed," he conceded.  "Very well—you were willing to take a large risk to rescue him and save him from further harm—even if that meant committing treason.   Is that more acceptable?"

     "I'd do whatever I could to save his life, if that's what you mean," Sully replied carefully.

     "Well, it seemed to me a man who would go to those lengths for the sake of a friend wasn't the kind to shoot anyone in cold blood—especially his wife."

     Surprised at McKay's intuitiveness, Sully began to think he might have to reevaluate his opinion of this man.  Still, there was something more in McKay's mind—he was sure of it.

     "And . . . ?" he persisted.

     "The day of the uprising, when Dr. Quinn, Mrs. Jennings and I discovered Sgt. O'Conner's body, but you were nowhere to be found—I saw the look on Dr. Quinn's face," McKay continued quietly.   "I saw that look once before—on the face of my sister, when she got the news that her fiance had been killed in the war.  I was home on leave when the wire came.  The look of heartbreak in her eyes—I'll never forget it.  Dr. Quinn had the same look.  Any man who could inspire that kind of feeling in a woman—well, it just didn't seem possible that such a man could ever raise a gun to someone he loved."

     Sully was no longer regarding McKay with hostility, but listening respectfully.

     "My sister died in an influenza epidemic just a few months later," McKay added.  "But--I never  really believed that it was the grippe that killed her—I always thought she died of a broken heart," he finished softly, his eyes shadowed with a private sorrow.

     "I'm sorry," Sully said sincerely.

     The sound of Sully's voice seemed to bring McKay back from whatever mournful place he had gone to in his mind.  The distant look left his eyes, and his face assumed its neutral mask once again.

     "I'd like to get back to you now," he said, changing the subject.

     Sully, recognizing that McKay no longer wanted to revisit his past, nodded in acknowledgement.

     "All right," he agreed.  "Like I said before, what do you want to know?"

     "Before I ask you any questions, I'm required to inform you that you are allowed to have a lawyer present," McKay advised him.

     "Ain't no lawyers in Colorado Springs," Sully said.   "Though Matthew's been studyin' the law   the last few months.  I hear he's started helpin' people in town with legal matters."

     "Should I have one of my men get him?" McKay asked.

     Sully studied the face of the man in front of him, weighing what he'd heard in the last few minutes.  He knew Matthew would tell him it was a serious mistake to answer any of McKay's questions without a lawyer—or at least someone with legal knowledge—present, to advise and protect him.  Nevertheless, he decided to take another "risk."

    "No—he's visitin' his ma and I don't want to cut his time short," Sully answered finally.  "Besides, I don't think it's necessary for him to be here—leastways for now.  I think you and me can talk among ourselves."

     "That decision could be unwise," McKay warned him.

     Sully shrugged.  "It's my decision to make."

     "You sound as if you just might trust me a little, Sully," said McKay.

     "Let's just say, I'm willin' to give you a chance—if you'll do the same for me," Sully allowed.

     "I'm certainly willing to meet you half-way," McKay answered.

     "That's a start," Sully said.

* * * * * * * * * *

     "So, ask your questions," he prompted, his posture relaxing as he leaned back against the bench.

     "There's really only one question that matters," said McKay.  "Why did you start the uprising at the reservation?  There must have been a better way to rescue Cloud Dancing, if you were that desperate to help him."

     "It ain't been proved that I had anythin' to do with startin' the uprisin', Sergeant," Sully reminded McKay once again.

     "All right—then what *were* you doing at the reservation?" McKay amended.  "And please don't deny you were there, Sully—I saw you with my own eyes."

     "I ain't denyin' nothin'," Sully told him.  "But my bein' there still doesn't prove I started it."

     "You were right in the thick of it!" McKay protested.  "I SAW you."

     "You were there, too—and so were all your men.  Who's to say one of  them didn't set off the explosion and let the Indians escape just to frame me?" Sully argued reasonably.

     "Playing games is unworthy of you, Mr. Sully," McKay replied.

     "And arrestin' me without proof ain't worthy of you," Sully said sharply.   Backing down slightly, he went on, "All right.  Maybe I was out of line with what I said.  But makin' assumptions about my actions and motives without proof ain't no different from me accusin' your men.  Fact is, Sergeant, unless you saw me blowin' up the dynamite, settin' fire to the camp or attackin' any of your men, you ain't got any proof that I was responsible for any of this.  The most you could arrest me for is trespassin.'"

     "AND helping a prisoner to escape," McKay reminded him.  "Besides, even if I personally didn't see you with the dynamite, that doesn't mean there weren't other witnesses," he added.

     "I don't know," Sully mused.  "Matthew told me he questioned all the soldiers he could find who were there that day, and not one of them remembers me even bein' at the reservation, much less leadin' the uprisin'.”

     "You could also be charged as a fugitive from justice," McKay said.

     "That still presumes that you got proof I committed a crime," Sully insisted.  "Which brings us right back to what happened at the reservation that day—and what you *think* you saw," he added.

     "So now you tell me, Sergeant," he said, fixing McKay with a knowing look.  "Exactly what *did* you see?"

     For the first time, McKay looked uncomfortable, as if he believed he'd lost control of the conversation.

     "I saw you with Cloud Dancing," he answered finally.  "You had your arm around him and you were helping him to reach the horses, to escape."

     "Escape?" Sully repeated.  "Maybe so—or maybe I was just helpin' him to get out of harm's way, because he was still too weak from the beatin' he took, and the surgery Michaela had to perform, to avoid bein' trampled to death by one of your men, or gettin' a bullet through the heart."  His eyes had turned a chilly blue-gray.

     "I understand Cloud Dancing is your friend, and that you're angry about the punishment he received," McKay began.  "But that still doesn't give you license to flout the law, with no regard for the consequences."

     "There's such a thing as goin' into somethin' with one intention, and gettin' an unexpected or unwanted result," Sully said.

     "Are you saying that's what happened to you, Sully?"

     "I'm sayin' . . . that my intention was to help—and that's the honest truth," Sully responded after a moment.  "I wanted to help Cloud Dancin'—to keep him from being hurt any more—I admit that.  But I wanted to help the other Indians too—by stoppin' them from makin' a bad situation even worse for themselves.  You didn't see me yellin' at the Indians, tellin' them not to shoot.  And maybe you won't believe that I tried to stop them—but that's the truth, too."
 
     "So the army should be grateful that you tried to stop an Indian rebellion that in all probability you instigated?"  McKay said.

     "You been askin' for the truth," Sully said.  "Well Sergeant, the truth is that the Indians were angry—even desperate.  They were determined to escape the reservation  somehow, and they would have found a way, sooner or later.

     "You see Sergeant, they believe that there's more honor in livin' free for one day, then livin' out a lifetime on the reservation."

     "That's a noble sentiment," McKay replied.  "And I won't argue that there's probably a lot of truth in what you claim.  But the fact remains that your efforts to help Cloud Dancin' were in direct opposition to the law, and resulted in severe repercussions.  No matter how sympathetic I might be to Cloud Dancing's plight—no matter how much I might understand and sympathize with your concern for him, I can't just turn a blind eye to—“

     "But that's just it, Sergeant.  I don't think you *do* understand about me and Cloud Dancin'," Sully replied.  "I don't think you have any real idea of what Cloud Dancin' and the Cheyenne mean to me.  But if you're interested, I'll tell you.  And then maybe you'll see things a little more clear."

     They stared at each other for several seconds.  Then McKay leaned back and said, "Go on."

* * * * * * * * * *

     "Cloud  Dancin' found me and took me in at a time in my life when livin' and dyin' meant just about the same to me," Sully began.  "After my first wife died in childbirth, and our baby followed her, I was lost.  I felt like I had nothin' left to live for, and I'd given up.  I would have died, if Cloud Dancin' hadn't rescued me.  He and the Cheyenne people became my family, and filled the empty places in my heart.  Cloud Dancin' ain't just my friend, Sergeant--he's my 'brother'—in every way that matters.  My daughter Katie—she's Cloud Dancin's 'daughter,' too.  He's her Cheyenne 'father.'

     "Cloud Dancin' and the Cheyenne helped me start my life over, and find my path.  They taught me that the land and everythin' in nature is sacred, and helped me to understand how important it is to preserve them.  Everythin' I've learned from them is a gift of wisdom.

     "Cloud Dancin' taught Michaela about Indian medicine, and she's used that knowledge to help a lot of people.  He saved Michaela's life during an influenza epidemic with one of his teas.  All her medicine was gone—she would have died if he hadn't given it to her.  Now she uses the fever tea for all her patients.

     "Cloud Dancin's saved my life more times than I can count.   And yet over the years I've watched him suffer more and more.  His only son was killed; he saw his wife and many of his tribe murdered by Custer at the Washita; and he's been forced to live in a shack on the reservation and give up his medicine and religion.  The army even made him wear white men's clothes.   He's been beaten, stabbed, and beaten again.  He was taken prisoner and almost executed twice!

     "How long can you watch someone suffer before you stand up and say ENOUGH, Sergeant?" Sully said passionately.   "You were angry yourself about the punishment Cloud Dancin' got for comin' back late to the reservation.  Michaela told me how you ordered the soldier who did it to be relieved from duty, and how you worked to get Cloud Dancin's sentence reduced.  Are you gonna condemn me for tryin'  to do whatever I could to save him--after you tried to save him yourself?"

     Abruptly Sully stood up.  "I need to get back to my wife now," he said.  "We can go on with this tomorrow.  Good night, Sergeant."  Without a backward glance, he turned the knob of the clinic door and went inside.

     The guards hastened to follow him.  McKay sat staring after Sully thoughtfully.  After a while, he got up and left the porch of the clinic, slowly strolling toward camp.