Sully stood in front of the mirror in the small recovery room near Michaela's, naked to the waist, toweling the remaining traces of shaving cream from his face.  He leaned in closer toward the mirror, peering critically at his reflection to see if he had missed any spots.  Then, satisfied with the job he'd done, he stroked his newly-shaved jaw, judging it to be smooth enough now to pass Michaela's gentle scrutiny.  As a finishing touch, he poured a few drops of bay rum into his palms, rubbed his hands together briskly, then applied the scent to his face and neck.  His long, wavy hair, still slightly damp and freshly brushed, flowed past his shoulders.  As he moved, the blonde highlights that streaked his hair gleamed in the rays of morning sunlight streaming through the window.

     Sully turned away from the mirror and reached for the clean shirt that hung on a nearby chair.  He slipped it over his head, and tucked the tail of the shirt into the waistband of his buckskins.  Finally, he put on the belt Robert E. had made for him, feeling a rush of gratitude once again for Robert E.'s efforts and thoughtfulness.

     Despite the difficult time Michaela had gone through the night before, and his own fear and anxiety, Sully found himself feeling more optimistic this morning. Thanks to Colleen bringing him the items he'd requested from the homestead, and the loan of the metal tub from the rear of Jake's barber shop, he felt refreshed and revitalized.  Funny how something as simple as a bath and a change of clothes could change one's outlook.

     Though actually, he ruminated, he had more than a few reasons to be hopeful.  Michaela was going to recover.  She had agreed to take the medication necessary to control her pain, and Andrew had pledged to monitor her condition closely, so there would be no more repeats of the previous night's episode.

     In just a week, he would have his trial, and the charges which had hounded him for months would finally be resolved, one way or the other—though in fact Matthew had been very confident about Sully's chances and the outcome.

     McKay had agreed to release the Indians the army had been holding captive, and any time now they would be on their way to the northern Cheyenne territory and freedom.  With luck, this act of good will would be the first step toward the establishment of a peace agreement between the renegades and the army.  With each successive conversation Sully had with McKay, the sergeant was proving himself, more and more, to be a man of honor—someone Sully could respect and possibly, once all this was over, even befriend.  Sully was even daring to think that McKay had become more of any ally than an adversary.  Hard to believe under the circumstances, but true, nonetheless.

     And most important, the criminal who had shot Michaela, and the villian who had orchestrated the attack, were safely locked up in the jail in Denver, due in large part to the efforts of Hank—yet another adversary who had displayed a surprising willingness to work with Sully, rather than against him.

     Yes, Sully thought to himself in a rare moment of contentment, the future was not looking quite so bleak today.

     He stole one last glance at his appearance in the mirror, anxious to look his very best for Michaela.  He felt excited and a little nervous, almost the way he had the first time he let Michaela see him in a suit, when he had dressed up to attend the surprise birthday party thrown for her by the town.

     Imagine that, he thought to himself, grinning a little.  An "old married man" like him, feeling like a nervous suitor beginning his first courtship!  But maybe it wasn't so unusual.  With the spirits' help, once his trial was behind him, Bancroft and Flagg were brought to justice, and Michaela was recovered—it almost *would* be like they were "starting over."  The thought of a new beginning, after all their struggles, was exhilirating and even intoxicating.  Certainly, it was a wonderful and welcome contrast to the feelings of worry and hopelessness he had been experiencing for so long.

     Before leaving the room, Sully picked up Rosalind's cameo from the shelf where he had left it next to the bottle of bay rum, and slipped it back inside his shirt.  It wasn't quite the same as having his medicine pouch. But in terms of sentimental value, it was equally meaningful to him.

     He stepped out into the hall, and saw McKay's two latest "shadows" standing nearby, looking taciturn.

     Still feeling unusually light-hearted, Sully tipped them a snappy salute.  "'Mornin' fellas," he said.  "Nice day, ain't it?  He affected a solicitous expression.  "Oh I'm sorry—I guess you ain't gonna find out, stuck in here with me all day.  You know fellas, you shouldn't give up a chance to enjoy this fine weather on my account.  I ain't goin' nowhere.  Oh—guess it's your job to make sure of that, ain't it?" he added.

     While speaking, Sully had become aware of the fragrant aroma of  fresh coffee issuing from the main room of the clinic.  The odor was distinctive, and irresistable.  He made a show of sniffing the air.

     "Ain't that Grace's coffee I smell?" he said pleasantly.  "I do believe it is.  Ain't no better way to start the day.  Don't let *me* stop you if you all want to go over to the café and have a cup."

     The soldiers stared at him balefully.

     Sully raised his eyebrows in a look of mock apology.  "Sorry again, fellas—I keep forgettin'--you gotta stay here.  Well, maybe somebody will bring you some.

     "Good day," he added, grinning a little to himself, and entered the examination room.

     Sure enough, Grace was there, taking a metal coffeepot, some tin cups, and a plate of biscuits from a tray and setting them on the desk.

     "Mornin', Grace—that coffee smells wonderful," he greeted her, smiling.

     Grace turned at the sound of his voice and gave him an answering smile.  "Mornin', Sully—you're lookin' lots better--and pretty *dapper* too—if you don't mind my sayin'."  Her eyes twinkled as she filled a cup and handed it to him.

     Sully grinned self-consciously.  "Figured it was about time I had a bath and cleaned myself up a bit," he confided.  "Once a month—whether I need it or not!"

     She chuckled.  "I'm sure Dr. Mike will approve," she said

     Grace's mention of Michaela reminded him.  "I'm sorry you couldn't visit with Michaela last night, Grace,"  he said.  "She was in a lot of pain and needed to rest—“

     "You just hush about that," Grace interrupted him.  "I understand.  My soup may be good, but the medicine Dr. Mike really needs is sleep.  There will be plenty of chances for me to visit when she's feelin' better."

     "Thanks, Grace," Sully said.  He sipped at the coffee appreciatively.  "You know, Michaela makes some fine coffee—it's one of the things she's learned to make really well—but next to hers, I'd have to say yours is the best in the world," he said.

     "And just *who* do you think taught her?" Grace said archly.

     Sully set his cup down and made a small bow of apology.  "I shoulda known," he said, grinning.  After a moment he added eagerly, "How's Katie?"

     "She's just fine," Grace told him, smiling again.  "Robert E.'s mindin' her at the café while I'm over here.  While Anthony's in school, she's my official 'taster.'  She and Robert E. have been *tastin'* the blueberries for my blueberry pies." she added.

     "My sweet girl has a sweet tooth," Sully said indulgently.

     "Her and Robert E., both," said Grace.  "In fact, I'd better get back over there and make sure I still got some blueberries left!"

     "Thanks for watchin' her, Grace—and for bringin' the coffee and all—I appreciate it," Sully told her.

     "My pleasure," Grace answered.  "I surely love that little girl!  Do you want me to bring her for a visit with Dr. Mike later?" she added.

     "Michaela wants it—fact is, she insisted on it—but that was before she had all that pain," Sully replied.  "Now I ain't sure if she's up to it."

     "Well you just send word when you decide," Grace told him.  She picked up the tray from the desk and walked to the door.  "See you, Sully."

     "See you, Grace," he responded.

     As Grace went outside, Sully picked up one of the biscuits, still warm from the oven, and took a bite, relishing the way it seemed to melt in his mouth.  He wandered out to the porch of the clinic, taking in the sights and sounds of the busy Colorado Springs morning.  He was momentarily surprised to see two more of McKay's men standing a few yards away, but concluded that with the release of the Indians, McKay must have decided that additional soldiers were prudent to discourage any possible trouble.  Sully looked toward the army tents in the meadow.  The Indian captives were still in the stockade, but he could sense an increased level of activity in the camp, leading him to believe that the Indians would be released shortly.

    He looked away from the camp, and let his gaze travel along the bustling main street.  Townspeople passed back and forth, on foot, on horseback, in wagons and buggies.  At the top of the street, he spotted Loren sweeping the porch of the mercantile.  Loren looked in his direction, and Sully raised a hand in greeting.  Loren nodded back, then was distracted by a customer needing assistance.

     Across the way, the Gold Nugget was already doing a thriving business, even this early in the day.  Sully was unsurprised; he was sure the men of the town had accutely missed being able to go to the saloon to drink, play cards and socialize with Hank's girls.  The building still bore the scars of the explosion a few days before, but the glass had been replaced in the windows, and  the front of the saloon sported new French doors, with panes of yellow glass.  Sully thought he detected the fine hand of Robert E. in the quality of the workmanship.

     He moved to the edge of the porch and glanced next door to the Gazette, a little surprised, but gratified, to see that it was open.  Apparently Dorothy was back at work, writing and putting out the paper.  He hoped Dorothy wasn't rushing things, returning to work so soon after her attack.  But he assumed that Andrew had given his blessing for her to resume normal activites, and he knew she would feel compelled to report on the extraordinary events of the past few days.

     There was something very reassuring about seeing the town returning to a semblance of normal after everything that had happened.  Sully was again aware of the unusual feeling of contentment he had experienced earlier.  The only thing needed to complete this happy picture would be for him to hear that Michaela was stronger and free from pain.

     As if in answer to his thoughts, he suddenly heard his name, and turned to see Colleen and Andrew standing in the doorway.

     "'Mornin', Andrew—hey again, Colleen," he added, having seen her briefly earlier when she had brought him his change of clothes and shaving items.

     "Good morning to you, Sully," Andrew responded as Colleen smiled at him.

     Sully walked back into the clinic with them.  "How's Michaela?" he asked the young doctor, too eager to stand on ceremony.  "Is she awake yet—she was still sleepin' when I woke up."

     "She's awake, she's alert, and—before you ask—she's not in any pain," Andrew assured him.  "There's still no sign of infection, the incision is healing well, and her pulse is strong."

     "Just what I was hopin' to hear," Sully said in relief.

     "Michaela and I also talked about her medication," Andrew continued.  "I will be giving her carefully measured doses--enough to control the pain, but not so much that it dulls her senses.  And I will gradually cut back on the dosage as she improves, so that soon she can be weaned off the morphine altogether.  By the time she reaches that point, which should just be a  matter of days, the bark tea should be more than sufficient to alleviate any discomfort."

     "She musta been real relieved to hear that," Sully commented.

     "She was indeed," said Andrew.  "She is definitely a very strong-willed woman, and she does NOT like her will being compromised!"

     "That's my Michaela," Sully said fondly.

     "Sully, you look so handsome," Colleen told him.

     He smiled shyly.  "Thank you."

     "Ma's not going to be able to take her eyes off you," Colleen went on.  She inclined her head toward him.  "You smell real nice too," she added, dimpling.

     "Well, I just wanted to—that is, I . . . " Sully trailed off, embarrassed.

     "I understand," Colleen rescued him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  "By the way, you might have a little surprise in store," she said, her eyes regarding him teasingly.

     "What do you mean?" Sully asked, puzzled.

     "Well, I don't think you're going to be able to take your eyes off Ma, either," she said.

     "I never get tired of lookin' at your ma," Sully declared.  "But are you talkin' about somethin' special?"

     "I think I'll let you find out for yourself," Colleen said mysteriously.

     Sully looked at her, mystified.  "All right," he answered slowly.  Women.  There were some things about them he would never understand—but he had discovered it was a lot of fun trying, all the same.

     "Colleen, I appreciate you bringin' me these clothes and the razor and all," Sully told her.

     "I was happy to do it, but it was really Matthew who picked out everything," she replied.  "I thought, being a man, he'd know better what you needed."

     "Speakin' of Matthew, I ain't seen him yet today," Sully mentioned.  "Do you know where he is?"

     "When we got to the clinic, he went over to Jake's to see about borrowing the tub," she answered.  "After he and Jake brought it over here, he said he had something to take care of and disappeared.  I haven't seen him since."

     "Well, I'm sure he'll be turnin' up, soon enough," Sully said.  "So—is it all right for me to go in to your ma, now?"

     "Absolutely," said Andrew.  "As for Colleen and me, we're on our way to breakfast at Grace's.  We should be back soon."

     "I'm sure we'll be fine till you get back," Sully said confidently.  He watched the two young people leave, then quickly headed for the recovery rooms.

* * * * * * * * * *

     "Mornin', Michaela," Sully started to say as he opened her door, but was struck speechless at the sight which greeted him.  "Oh, Michaela," he breathed after a moment, his face an open book of his feelings.

     His wife, the object of his admiration, sat up in bed, gazing at him alluringly.  She was clad in his favorite negligee, the one her mother had given her for their honeymoon.  The pale pink gown was festooned with ribbons and layers of lace, and lent a rosy blush to Michaela's cheeks.  Her hair, drawn back from her face by a pair of tortoise shell combs, cascaded down around her shoulders like a shining copper waterfall.  Her eyes sparkled.

     "Good morning," she said, smiling invitingly.  She stretched out her hand toward him.

     Slowly Sully approached her, suddenly feeling large and awkward in the presence of her fragile feminity.  Michaela seemed to read his mind.  "Don't be shy," she said to him softly.

     He slipped into the chair by her bedside, and took her hand.  "I . . . can't help it," he said.  "You look so delicate--and so beautiful."  Gently he pressed his lips to her hand.

     "Do I really—look beautiful, I mean?" she questioned anxiously.

     "You take my breath away," he said sincerely.  "Like a princess in a dream.  I'm half afraid that if I blink, you'll disappear."

     "I won't disappear," she promised him.  "And—you needn't be afraid to touch."

 "But--I don't want to hurt you," he ventured, hesitantly.

     "You won't hurt me," Michaela promised him.  "Please Sully—kiss me," she whispered urgently.

     "There's nothin' I'd like more," he whispered back, and closed his mouth over hers.