Sully listened as Andrew explained to Rosalind the procedure involved in giving a transfusion.  At first, distracted by thoughts of Michaela, Sully didn't pay close attention.  But after a few moments, he became aware that he was listening closely, and that Andrew's words were having a disturbing effect on him.

    Sully wasn't squeamish.  If anything, it was the contrary.   From the time he had become involved with Michaela, he had frequently been around illness.   On numerous occasions, he had assisted Michaela with a patient when the need had arisen.  He had treated his own injuries after his fall from the cliff—had even reset his own shattered leg, nearly blacking out from the intensity of the pain—but he had done it.  He had seen blood many times—the blood of soldiers; the blood of the Cheyenne at Washita; the blood of the innocent man the army had tricked him into killing during the war.  He had seen Cloud Dancing's blood again and again.  And he had shed plenty of his own.   He had even managed to keep his head and give Michaela first aid when he found her in the woods, though the sight of the precious blood draining from her body had suffused him with an icy terror.

     He had twice endured the same procedure Rosalind was about to undergo, and had never experienced any revulsion at the experience.

     Yet as Andrew described how he would insert the needles—one into Rosalind's vein to withdraw her blood, the other into Michaela's vein to deliver the life-giving fluid—Sully' stomach clenched and sweat broke out on his forehead.  He didn't understand why the mere description of the transfusion was enough to make him ill and dizzy.  Perhaps because lack of food and sleep were taking their toll.  But more likely because the thought of a needle in Michaela's arm being all that stood between her and death, was enough to make him sick with fear.

     Andrew broke off in the middle of what he was saying as he noticed Sully's greenish pallor.

     "Sully—are you ill?" he asked.  "I can give you something—though the best medicine would be for you to lay down and get some proper rest."

     Rosalind was also looking at him in concern.  She reached out to lay her hand on his forehead.  His skin was clammy beneath her touch.  "Dr. Cook is right, my dear—you are clearly unwell.  You must rest."

     "I'm all right," Sully said faintly.  "I just need some air."  He wiped the sweat from his brow and rose from his chair.  Moving to the door, he opened it quickly and stepped out onto the porch, breathing deeply of the crisp morning air, trying to keep his nausea at bay.  The army guards followed him outside, and he felt a flash of anger at being robbed of even this small moment of privacy.

     Ironically, his anger at the soldiers helped to diminish his dizziness.  After a few moments, he had recovered enough to make his way over to the bench and sit down.

     Sully heard the clock above the entrance to Preston's bank strike the hour of nine.  On the heels of its chimes, came the sound of a  whistle heralding the arrival of the morning train from Denver.

     "Colleen!" he thought.  He didn't even know if there was someone to meet her.  Of course Colleen didn't require anyone to escort her from the station to the clinic.  But he knew that she would be worried, and would appreciate the comfort of finding a familiar face waiting for her at the end of her journey.

     His thoughts of Colleen prompted him to think about Katie, Brian and Matthew.  Appalled at himself, he realized he had no idea where they were or what was happening with them.  What kind of father was he, to be totally unaware of his children's location or condition—trusting blindly in others to look after them?

     Abruptly he stood and went to the open door of the clinic.  Rosalind was watching Andrew as he prepared the instruments he would require for the transfusion.

     "Rosalind," Sully said, stepping back inside.  "Do you know who's got Katie, and whether Brian went to school?  Or have you seen Matthew yet this mornin'?"

     "My apologies, Byron—I should have told you first thing, but we were so preoccupied with poor Michaela it slipped my mind," Rosalind said contritely.  "I haven't seen Matthew, but Marjorie took Katie and Brian over to the café for breakfast earlier.  Apparently, the school will remain closed for at least another day—Mayor Slicker stopped by to inquire after Michaela and told us—but he thinks it will be safe for school to resume tomorrow."

     "Thanks," Sully said, relieved that his children were being looked after, since their father was clearly incapable of the task.  "Do you happen to know if Marjorie and the kids were gonna meet Colleen's train?"

     "Marjorie didn't say," Rosalind responded.  "But I think it's very possible they will, since they know that you can't be there yourself."

     "You're probably right," Sully agreed, glad that his adopted daughter would not have to come home to a station platform empty of family or friends.

     Rosalind came over to him and looked at him searchingly.  "How are you feeling, my dear?" she asked.

     "Better," Sully answered.  "I'm sorry—I ain't usually bothered by things like that but—“

     "It's different when it's someone you love," Rosalind finished for him, uncannily reading his mind once again.

     "Yeah," he admitted softly.  "I think that was it."

     Rosalind studied him.  "Your color has come back a little," she said, satisfied that he was being truthful with her.  "But Byron, you cannot keep going without food or rest.  You will definitely fall ill if you don't begin to take care of yourself."

     "Lady Sutcliffe is correct," Andrew echoed.  "Sully, you need to take time for yourself now.  Even if the transfusion is successful, it will be a few hours at least before we know whether Michaela is responding.  There's nothing you can do for her at the moment, but you can at least get some food and sleep, and refresh yourself a little.  Otherwise, I can promise you that you'll be in one of these beds before the day is out."

     "I know you're right," Sully allowed.  "But I just can't think of sleepin' when Michaela is—that is, till we know if she . . . "  He couldn't finish the thought.  Instead he added, "At least I can be with her, let her know I'm there, that she's not alone.  I promised her I wouldn't leave her again.  I won't break my promise."

     "But Sully, Michaela is unconscious—she won't miss you for a short while," Andrew said reasonably.  "And I know she wouldn't want you to make yourself sick with worry over her."

     "She may be sleepin', but she knows I'm there.  I know it—I can feel it," Sully said with conviction.  "I can't—I won't—give way on this Andrew."

     Perplexed, Andrew frowned slightly, but then his expression cleared as he said, "Will you at least consider a compromise, then?  Let me send to Grace's for a proper breakfast.  If you promise to eat it all, I'll allow you to remain with Michaela.  We'll need to move a cot into Michaela's room for Lady Sutcliffe to rest on during the transfusion.  When we're done, we'll leave it there and you can use it to get some sleep.  And I DO mean SLEEP, Sully!" he said firmly.

     Sully smiled slightly.  Andrew had come a long way from the awkward young "tenderfoot" he had been when he arrived in Colorado Springs.  He had proved to be a skilled, compassionate doctor, and Sully knew that Michaela had been grateful for his presence and assistance on many occasions.  Now he was even giving orders to his colleague's husband!

     "All right—you got a deal," he agreed.  "Fact is, I guess  I'm too tired to fight you on the sleepin' part.  Though I got to admit the idea of food don't appeal too much right now," he added, feeling a twinge of his earlier queasiness stirring inside.

     "You'll feel differently once you get something solid inside you," Andrew said confidently.  He turned to Rosalind.  "Lady Sutcliffe, it will take me a few more minutes to prepare.  Could I trouble you to go over to Grace's and get your nephew some proper nourishment?"

     "Absolutely," Rosalind answered.  "I will return as soon as I can. In the meantime, Byron," she added, fixing him with a stern gaze, "I want you to sit down and REST."

     "I guess I got my marchin' orders—or restin' orders, in this case," Sully said.

     "Indeed you have!" Rosalind declared.  "Now see that you follow them!"  She kissed him on the cheek, and was turning to leave, when Colleen suddenly appeared in the doorway.  Behind her, Sully could see Brian, Matthew and Marjorie, holding Katie.

     "Sully!" Colleen exclaimed.  With three quick steps she was in his arms.  Sully held her close for a moment, realizing how much he'd missed her, and thinking how glad Michaela would be if she could see her right now.

     "It's good to have you here, Colleen," he said softly.

     "I'm so sorry about  Ma," Colleen said as she drew back from him.  "How is she—“ she started to ask, then broke off as she got a good look at his face.  "Sully, are you all right?  You look terrible!" she burst out, then flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry—that came out all wrong."

     "It's all right," Sully told her kindly.

     "What I meant to say, is that it's so good to see you—but you look so pale.  Are you sick?"

     "He will be if he doesn't get some rest soon," Andrew told her.

     "I'm all right, just tired," Sully assured her.

     Colleen looked unconvinced, and glanced toward Andrew for confirmation of Sully's words.

     "Sully's suffering from exhaustion," Andrew told her.  "It's been a difficult twenty-four hours, and I'll wager that he didn't sleep for at least another twenty-four before that.  But with some food and rest, he'll be fine.  I've managed to get him to agree to eat something, and then get some sleep, as long as he can stay in your mother's room."

     "Good," Colleen said, relieved.  "How is ma?" she added, her eyes anxious.

     Andrew came over to her and took her hand.  "I'm afraid her condition is quite grave," he said gently. "She lost a great deal of blood from the bullet wound before I could perform surgery, and unfortunately her blood pressure is still dangerously low.  I was just preparing to give her a transfusion."

     "It's that serious?" Colleen said, frightened.

     Andrew nodded.  "I'm sorry to have to give you this news," he said softly.  "But let me also say that if your mother responds to the transfusion, her condition could begin to improve fairly soon."

     "But—who is going to donate blood?" Colleen asked.

     "With your father's permission, I am, my dear," Rosalind spoke up.  "It is a pleasure to meet you, Colleen.  You are every bit as lovely as your mother said."

     Sully had to agree.  He barely recognized the sophisticated young woman standing before him, in her chic traveling suit and stylish hat.  But a moment later, as Colleen pulled off her hat and her fair hair escaped to tumble down past her shoulders, he saw the familiar young girl they had sent off to college little more than a year ago.

     "Colleen, there's somebody important I want you to meet," he said, looking from his daughter to his aunt proudly.  "This is my aunt, Lady Rosalind Sutcliffe.  Rosalind—this is Colleen."

     Rosalind extended her hand to Colleen, who took it shyly.  "I am so happy to meet you, my dear," she said warmly.  "Your mother sang your praises to me, and I can see she did not exaggerate.

     "I am sure you must be confused, meeting me—a complete stranger—under these circumstances," Rosalind went on.  "And then to hear that I am giving your mother a transfusion . . . "

     "Aunt Marjorie, Matthew and Brian told me a little about you as we walked over from the train station," Colleen replied.  "I'm so happy for both you and Sully.  But they didn't mention anything about a transfusion."

     "That's 'cause they didn't know," Sully explained.  "It was just decided.  I wanted to give Michaela my blood, but Andrew said it wasn't a good idea—“

     "Because you aren't the same gender," Colleen said.

     "Precisely," said Andrew.

     "Rosalind heard us talkin', and she offered to give your ma her blood instead," Sully continued.  "She thought, since we share the same blood, and my blood helped Loren and Cloud Dancin', that maybe a transfusion from her would have a good chance of workin'."

     "That's very generous of you," Colleen said to Rosalind gratefully.

     "Not at all," Rosalind replied.  "Your mother was extremely kind to me from the moment we met—long before either of us realized that Byron and I were related.  In the very short time I've been here, I have become deeply fond of her—and of your brothers and dear little Katie.  Michaela—and all of you—are my family, just as much as Byron."

     "Nonetheless, Rosalind, offering your blood to someone you've just met is a very selfless thing to do," Marjorie spoke up for the first time.  "I am grateful to you as well, for wanting to help my sister.  But I could give her my blood instead, and spare you the ordeal.  Since we are sisters, I would think a transfusion between us would have an equal chance of success."  She turned to Andrew.  "Is that right?" she asked.

     "It seems logical," he answered.  "But a decision must be made immediately.  If you're going to give blood instead of Lady Sutcliffe, I need to know now."

     "I suppose it's up to Sully," Marjorie said.  Everyone's eyes turned to him, awaiting his decision.

     "That's real good of you, Marjorie," Sully said diplomatically after a moment.  "But Rosalind givin' her blood to Michaela—kinda makes me feel like I'm givin' her my blood too.  I'd like Rosalind to do it, if she's willin'.  I hope you can understand."

     "Of course," Marjorie told him.  "All that matters is Michaela getting well."

     "Good," Andrew said.  "Matthew, Brian—could you please move this cot into your mother's room?" he asked, pointing to the cot against the wall.

     "Sure thing," Matthew answered.  He and Brian moved with alacrity to fulfill Andrew's request.

     Just then Katie, who had been solemnly watching all the adults around her from her perch in Marjorie's arms, reached out her arms to her father.  "Pa!" she said.

     With a smile, Sully took his small daughter from her aunt, and cuddled her close.  "Mornin' Kates," he said, kissing the top of her downy head.  "How's my sweet girl?"

     Katie buried her face shyly in his hair, then lifted her head and looked around her as if seeking something.

     "Mama?" she said wistfully, clearly puzzled by the lack of her mother's presence in the familiar surroundings of the clinic.

     Sully's voice seemed to catch in his throat, but after a moment he said gently, "Mama's not feelin' very well right now, Kates.  She's sleepin'.  You can see Mama soon, when she's feelin' better."

     "Mama seep?" Katie repeated.

     "That's right," Sully told her.

     Just then Matthew and Brian came back into the room.

     "Brian," Sully said.  "Could you take Katie outside—maybe back over to Grace's?"  Bending down, he set Katie on her feet.

     "Sure, Pa," Brian answered, coming to take his little sister's hand.

     "That reminds me, Sully," Marjorie said.  "While we were having breakfast, Grace offered to keep Katie and Brian until Michaela is better.  She thought it would make things easier for the rest of us, and that Brian would enjoy staying with Anthony."

     "Could we, Pa?" Brian asked.

     "That's real kind of Grace and Robert E.," Sully said.  "It sounds like a good idea."  He caressed Katie's hair.  "Be a good girl for your brother, and for Miss Grace and Robert E., Kates," he said, smiling down at her.  She grinned back at him sunnily.  To Brian he added, "Thanks for watchin' out for your little sister.  I know she's in good hands with you."

     Brian flushed with pride in Sully's confidence.  Then, a shadow crossing his face, he said softly, "Sully—Pa—take care of Ma, all right?"

     Sully's bright blue eyes were penetrating as he looked into Brian's troubled face.  "You know I will, Brian," he pledged.  "Just like Horace with the telegraph, when I married your ma, I took an oath—to take care of her and protect her, no matter what.  I know I ain't done too good a job of it lately, but that's all gonna change, I promise."  He laid his hand on Brian's shoulder in a solemn, man-to-man gesture.  Brian looked at him gratefully, a spark of faith and hope returning to his eyes.  Then he led Katie outside.

     "Anythin' else you need, Andrew?" Matthew asked.

     "Yes—could you go to Grace's and bring back a hot meal for Sully—then stand guard over him while he eats it?" Andrew said drily.

     The corner of Matthew' mouth curved up in a grin.  "You got it," he declared.

     "Seems I got an awful lot of 'mothers' all of a sudden," Sully grumbled.

     "No—just a lot of people who care about you, who are determined to get you through this in spite of yourself," Andrew told him.

     "Guess we should all clear out and let you get to your work," Matthew said to Andrew.

     "Andrew—I want to assist you," Colleen said suddenly.

     "Colleen, I don't think that would be wise—“

     "Because I'm family, I know," Colleen interrupted.  "But you need someone with experience to help you, and I assisted Ma with Cloud Dancing's transfusion."

     "That's right, she did," Sully confirmed.

     "It's not a question of Colleen's medical skills," Andrew elaborated.  "I simply think that emotionally, it would be too difficult—‘

     "Andrew," Sully spoke up again.  "Colleen's strong.  I trust her—she'll be all right.."  Lowering his voice, he added, "She needs to do this, for Michaela.  Let her."

     "Very well," Andrew agreed, recognizing that he was out-numbered.  "Colleen, if you'll come with me to your mother's room, we need to get started."

     "Andrew, wait.  I want to see her first," Sully requested.

     "Make it quick," Andrew told him meaningfully.

     They stared at each other, then Sully went through the connecting door to the recovery rooms beyond.