Matthew perched on a corner of the desk in the clinic, watching  Sully, who sat opposite him, listlessly pushing the food around on his plate.

     Though Sully was physically in this room, Matthew knew that his heart and attention lay elsewhere, with Dr. Mike in her room down the hall.

     Andrew had allowed Sully his visit with Michaela—a few achingly brief moments during which he'd told her of Rosalind's generosity in donating her blood for the transfusion.

     "I know how hard you been fightin'," he'd said, as he tenderly stroked her hair.  "But Andrew—he said you just ain't strong enough to get through this on your own.  He said you need help.  This transfusion's gonna give you the help you need, Michaela.  It's gonna give you strength and make you well," he'd promised, speaking with a confidence he didn't feel and hoping she wouldn't detect the fear in his heart.

     "I wanted to give you my blood," he'd gone on.  "But Andrew wouldn't let me.  Then Rosalind just stepped in and offered to do it instead.  She figured with her and me bein' related—sharin' the same blood and all—that her givin' you blood would almost be like me givin' it to you myself.

     "You just need to hold on a little longer, Michaela.  Just a little longer—for me."  Gently he'd kissed her fingers, then her lips—chillingly aware that this might be Michaela's last and only chance.

     Just then, in a flash of deja vu, Andrew had entered the room and told him he needed to step out so they could begin.

     Now, he was back to enduring a waiting game.  And he wondered how much longer he could  bear the uncertainty—the not knowing—if Michaela would come back to him.

     Sully finally pushed the tray away.  Balling up his napkin, he tossed it over his nearly untouched plate, then looked up at Matthew.

     "I appreciate your bringin' me this, but I just can't eat it," he apologized.  "Probably wouldn't be able to keep it down, if I did."

     "But Sully, you gotta eat," Matthew told him.  "Andrew made me promise that I'd see to it.  If you don't get some food and sleep—“

     "I know, I know—I heard it all before," Sully cut him off.  "I wish folks would spend a little less time worryin' about my eatin' habits, and whether I'm losin' sleep, and more time worryin' about Michaela losin' her life!" he snapped.

     Matthew watched him compassionately, refusing to take offense.  He understood Sully's pain and fear.  He especially understood his anger—his need to lash out at those around him because he couldn't fight the real cause of his misery.  Watching Ingrid die had taught Matthew more than he ever wanted to know about this kind of suffering.

     "Come on, Sully," he said now, his voice mild.  "You  know Andrew's doin' everything he can for Dr. Mike."

     "Then why ain't nothin' worked?!" Sully burst out.  "It's goin' on two days—how long can she go on like this?"  His hand curled into a fist.  He felt like he wanted to hit something—or someone—but the criminal responsible for his wife's suffering was far away in Denver, out of his reach.

     Sully realized he sounded like a petulant child having a tantrum, but he couldn't seem to help himself.  With every fiber of his being, he wished he had been the one in the clearing that day; or that he could magically switch places with Michaela, and take away her pain.

     Sully propped his elbows on the desktop, and scrubbed at his face with his hands.  "I don't mean to take it out on you," he said more quietly.  "I just feel so useless."

     "You ain't useless," Matthew said.  "You found Dr. Mike—you saved her life.  Saved Dorothy too."

     "They wouldn't have needed savin' if it hadn't been for me," Sully said,  the familiar bitterness, like bile, rising into his throat   "But there ain't no point broodin' over what I can't change," he chastised himself.  "I just wish there was somethin'—anythin'—I could do for your ma.  I ain't felt this helpless since—since I watched Abagail and Hannah slip away."  In frustration, he raked his hand through his hair and rose to pace around the room.  Matthew's eyes followed him.

     "I know what you're feelin'," he said to Sully.  "I know what happened to Dr. Mike is bringin' back bad memories for you.  But it was different with Abagail and your baby.  They didn't have a doctor to take care of them.  Dr. Mike has Andrew and Colleen lookin' out for her, Rosalind givin' her blood—and all the people in town prayin' for her to get well.  She's gonna make it, Sully.  You gotta believe that."

     "I'm tryin'," Sully told him.  "I'm really tryin'."  He stopped his restless pacing and returned to stand by Matthew.  "Let's talk about somethin' else," he said.  "Were you able to talk to Cloud Dancin'?  Did he meet with Black Moon?"

     "Yeah—Cloud Dancin' was waitin' for me at the cave, just like you said he'd be," Matthew replied, equally glad to change the subject and get Sully's mind off his worries temporarily.

     "Cloud Dancin' talked to Black Moon," Matthew went on.  "He said Black Moon thinks it's his duty to free his people from life on the reservation.  Black Moon told Cloud Dancin' that he went on a vision quest, and while he was gone, the 'moon captured the sun.'  He said 'day turned to night and many people were afraid.'  When  he returned, the light returned with him—so his people named him 'Black Moon—the one who captures the sun and then sets it free.'"

     "An eclipse," Sully said.

     "Yeah," Matthew agreed.  "Black Moon said  that now it's the white man who would 'keep his people in darkness and fear.'  He saw the eclipse as a sign that it was his destiny to drive away the forces that would keep his people from the light."

     "Is makin' war the only path he can see to peace?" Sully asked.

     "Cloud Dancin' asked him the same thing.  He told Black Moon that many of their people have tried to fight these forces, but all of them have failed.  He tried to convince Black Moon that there were other paths to freedom."

     "Like getting the army to allow safe passage to the Tongue River Valley for their women and children—and any braves that want to go?" Sully said.

     "Yeah," Matthew confirmed.  "Cloud Dancin' asked Black Moon if it wasn't better to live as a free man than die as a renegade.  He asked him which path Black Moon's children would choose for him."

     "What did Black Moon say?"

     "He asked if the army would agree to safe passage.  Cloud Dancin' said we could ask.  Black Moon finally agreed.  He gave us two days to speak with the army."

     "At least he didn't turn us down—that's a good sign," Sully commented, feeling a glimmer of hope that at least the trouble with the renegades could finally be resolved.

     "Trouble is, who do we get to speak to the army?" Matthew asked.  "Cloud Dancin's still a fugitive—and even if he wasn't, the army'd never listen to him."

     "You're right about that," Sully agreed.

     "And you're a prisoner," Matthew continued.  "The army's hardly goin' to make a deal to free the Indians with a man they just arrested for treason and murder."

     "You may be right about that too," Sully replied thoughtfully.  "But then again—maybe not."

     "What do you mean?" Matthew said.

     "I had an interestin' talk with Sgt. McKay last night," Sully told him.  "He was questionin' me about Palmer Creek."

     "You didn't tell him anythin' , did you?" Matthew asked, alarmed.

     "I answered his questions," Sully said calmly.

     "Without a lawyer?" Matthew erupted.  "Sully, are you crazy?"

     Sully held up his hand.  "I said I answered his questions, Matthew," he said.  "I didn't say I admitted to anythin'.  I think my answers weren't quite what McKay was expectin'."

     "I don't understand," Matthew said.

     "It's a long story—one I don't feel like gettin' into right now.  I'll just say that I think McKay and me came to understand each other a little better.  He seems to be an honest man, and he may not turn out to be the enemy we thought he was.  As far as the Indians go, I think I might get him to see reason."

     "You're expectin' a lot," Matthew said doubtfully.

     "I may as well," Sully replied.  "At this point, I ain't got nothin' to lose."

     A knock sounded at the door.  Matthew got up to answer it.  He opened the door to reveal Sgt. McKay standing on the threshold.

     "Sergeant!" Matthew said, startled at the uncanny appearance of the man they had just been discussing.

     "Good morning, Mr. Cooper," said McKay.  He looked past Matthew to nod at Sully.

     "Mr. Sully," he added.

     Sully leaned back against the desk and folded his arms.

     "Speak of the devil," he said.