Drawing on every ounce of will-power he had, Sully forced himself to pull away from Michaela.  More than anything in the world, he wanted to make love to her, and  in that moment, the knowledge that they couldn't let their passion reach it's inevitable conclusion was nearly unbearable to him.

     But somehow, he found the strength to separate from her.  "Michaela, I can't go any further," he said huskily.  "I'm afraid if I do, I ain't gonna be able to stop."

     She stroked his cheek.  "I'm so sorry, Sully—sorry that this happened, sorry that it's been so hard on you . . ."

     "I told you before--you got no reason to be sorry," he reminded her gently.  "Don't you know that I got the answer to my prayers when I came in and saw you just now?  We'll have our time together, Michaela, when you're healed," he promised.   "And that won't be so long from now."

     "But Sully—the army—“ she protested softly.

     "It's all gonna work out," he said.  "Trust me, Michaela."

     "Sully, you must tell me what's happened," she implored him.

     He kissed her hand again.  "I will," he said.  "Soon.  But it can wait a little longer.  Right now, I just want to sit here admirin' you and thankin' the spirits that I got you back."

     "Sully, I'm strong enough to hear the truth," she said.  "You needn't feel you have to protect me."

     "I ain't protecting' you," he answered.  "Truly.  I mean to tell you everythin', down to the last detail.  But—not this minute.  Please?" he pleaded softly.

     "Very well," Michaela gave in.  She smiled at him fondly.  "It seems I can't refuse you anything, either."

     "Then we make a perfect pair," he said, returning her smile.

     "I haven't told you how handsome you are," Michaela said after a moment.  She caressed his jaw appreciatively.  "You were listening," she added.

     "Do I pass inspection, Ma'am?" he asked, grinning.

     "Always," she told him.  "And the scent you're wearing?  It's quite—intoxicating."

     "Not as intoxicatin' as you," Sully replied.  "Colleen said I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off you—she was right."

     "What else did Colleen say?" Michaela asked.

     "Umm . . . she said you might have a little 'surprise' for me, but that she'd let me find out for myself," he answered, finding it somewhat hard to concentrate on conversation with Michaela so invitingly close.  "She was right about that, too," he went on after a pause.  "Seein' you sittin' up like this, lookin' so lovely and so much better, was the best surprise I ever got."

     "I wanted to make myself attractive for you," Michaela admitted.  "And I put you through so much worry last night, that I wanted to reassure you that I was truly feeling better.  But that's only part of the 'surprise,'"  she added unexpectedly.

     "What else could you surprise me with that would be any better than this?" Sully questioned.

     "Why don't we find out?" Michaela said mysteriously, answering his question with one of her own.  Sully shook his head, grinning.  Women sure loved having their little "secrets," he thought.  Well, nothing else to do but indulge them!

     "All right," he agreed.  "Surprise me."

     "Could you bring me that box—over there on the shelf, next to the flowers?" she asked, pointing to where a carved cherrywood box lined with cedar rested next to the pitcher holding the bouquet from Robert E.

     "Sure," Sully said, rising and moving around the bed.  He went to the shelf and retrieved the box, bringing it back to her.  "Where do you want it?" he asked.

     "Right here, between us," she answered, indicating an empty spot on the bed beside her.

     Sully set the box down, running his hand his hand over its smooth, polished lid.  "I remember this," he said.  "It's your 'memory box' ain't it—the one you brought from Boston?"

     "Yes, indeed," Michaela said.  "My father gave it to me when I was sixteen—sort of a 'miniature' of the hope chest I received for my 'coming out.'  I asked Colleen to bring it this morning along with the other things I requested."

     "It's real handsome," Sully commented, his finger tracing the intricate carving around the sides.

     "Yes, it's quite beautiful," Michaela agreed.  "I've always treasured it, but what I treasure even more are the things it contains."

     "Like what?" Sully asked, smiling at her.  "You never showed me.  Some special 'woman's secrets' I ain't supposed to see?"

     "No," Michaela answered.  "Just some special memories and keepsakes.  I suppose I thought if I showed you, you'd think they were silly."

     "No, I wouldn't think they were 'silly' Michaela—not if they meant somethin' special to you," he said.  "But--you don't gotta show me, if you don't want to," he added.  "Everyone should have somethin' of their own, that's private."

     "I want to," Michaela said.  "Most of it is things related to the children.  The first tooth Brian lost after the children came to live with me . . .  the blue ribbon Brian won for his 'Surprise Pie' and the red ribbon Colleen won for her strawberry pie in the pie contest . . . a spelling medal Colleen won at school . . . Olive's will giving Matthew her cattle, and some of the swatches of material Ingrid was going to use for the Maypole at their wedding . . . "   Michaela's voice quivered slightly and tears stung her eyes.  Sully squeezed her hand sympathetically, and they were silent for a moment, thinking of Matthew's sweet, gentle fiance, whose life had been taken too soon.

     Recovering after a few moments, Michaela went on with a loving smile, "Katie's first little pair of kidd shoes—was she ever that small?!  And locks of all the children's hair, braided together."

     "Sounds like some precious memories," Sully said softly, touched by Michaela's sentimentality.  "Anythin' about me in there?" he added after a pause.

    "One or two things, perhaps," Michaela said, gently teasing.  "A program from the opera we attended in Boston, a sprig of white sage from the cutting you planted for me in our garden, the letters you sent me from Virginia City when you went to help Daniel with his mine, the—small piece of material you saved from the wedding shirt I made for you that we gave to Cloud Dancing . . . "  Her voice shook again, and he lifted her hand and kissed it.   Michaela took a breath and added, "Our wedding license, and the article Brian wrote for the Gazette when Katie was born."

    "I don't know what to say," Sully spoke softly, overwhelmed at the list of mementos Michaela had cherished, and the powerful memories each of them summoned up.

    "And—one more thing," Michaela said, her eyes holding a wealth of emotion.

    "What?" Sully said quietly, sensing the import of what she was about to show him.

    "Close your eyes," Michaela told him softly.

    He complied, recognizing that the gesture was important to her.  He heard her lift the lid of the box, and a slight rustle as she reached inside.  The aromatic scent of cedar drifted out onto the air.  A moment later he heard the lid close.  Suddenly, he felt something being slipped over his head and then around his neck—some kind of  narrow strap, like a strip of rawhide.  He felt Michaela's fingers gently lifting his hair free of the strap, and then she took her hands away.

    "You can open your eyes now," she said.

    Sully complied again, simultaneously sliding his hand down along the rawhide strap till it encountered something soft, roughly rectangular and fringed.  He looked down in amazement, cradling the object in his hand.

    "My medicine pouch!" he breathed, stunned to see it and feel it around his neck after so long.  "I thought it was gone, for sure.  When I pulled myself from the river, I didn't have it.  I figured the current  musta carried it away."

    Michaela gazed at him, her eyes filled with love, and a trace of tears.  "No," she said.  "I found it on the rocks, when we were looking for you in the river after you fell.  I believe that the others—thought it was proof that you had—had died, and your body washed downstream.  But I chose to think it meant you were alive--somewhere.  Thank God that proved to be true."

    "Michaela—thank you," Sully choked out, overcome with emotion.  "You—you don't know what this means to me . . ."

     “I believe I have an idea," she said quietly.

    "'Course you do," he corrected himself.  "Only two people in the world understand how I feel about this—Cloud Dancin'—and you."

    "I'm so sorry I didn't give it to you sooner," Michaela said regretfully.  "When we finally found you, I was so concerned with keeping you alive—and then all those weeks in the cave all I could think of was helping you to recover and stay hidden from the army.  I'm afraid I simply forgot.  But what you said about the cameo, and how it reminded you of your lost medicine pouch—and then Robert E. making that beautiful belt for you—made me realize the time had come to return the pouch to where it belongs—around your neck.

    "There's one more thing," she added.  She lifted the lid of the box again and reached inside, withdrawing the string of beads Sully had given to Katie during one of her visits with him at the cave.  "I don't think Katie will mind if I give these back," Michaela said, smilng gently.  "I believe she'd agree that they belong to Papa."  She slipped the beads over his head.

    “Thank you," Sully repeated tremulously, and kissed her deeply.  He put his arms around her and held her close, his chin resting on her head.  Michaela pressed against him, feeling as if they were two people fused into one.

    That was how Rosalind found them when she gently tapped on the partially open door and came inside.

 * * * * * * * * * *

    "Forgive me!" Rosalind apologized, her face reddening at her intrusion on their private moment.  "I will return—“

    Sully and Michaela parted, as Sully stood and said, "No—Rosalind—don't go!"

    "Please stay," Michaela echoed him.  "I'm so happy to see you Rosalind—I've missed you."

    "And I have missed you, my child!" Rosalind answered warmly, venturing into the room.  "I am so glad and grateful to see you looking so much better and on the road to recovery."

    "Sully tells me I wouldn't be if it hadn't been for you," Michaela answered gratefully..  "Rosalind, I don't know how to thank you for donating your blood to me.  I owe you my life."

    "Please do not thank me," Rosalind implored, coming to stand beside her.  "I was desperate to help somehow.  I am only grateful that God showed me the way."

    "Still," Michaela insisted.  "It was an incredibly brave and generous act.  I will never forget it."

    "Michaela, you are every bit as much my niece, as Byron is my nephew," Rosalind told her earnestly.  "More than that—I love you both as if you were my own children.  And you and I both know that a mother would do anything to save her child—don't we?"  she added softly.

    Michaela nodded, too moved for words, and then the women embraced.  Sully watched, emotion forming a lump in his throat.

     A few seconds later, as his wife and his aunt parted, he said, "Rosalind, look—Michaela gave me back my medicine pouch that I thought I'd lost in the accident.  It's very—sacred to me.  It feels so good to have it back."

    "How wonderful!" Rosalind said, admiring the pouch.

    "Everythin's almost perfect, now," Sully went on, to both of them.

    "Almost?" Michaela questioned.

    Sully reached inside his shirt and brought out the cameo.  He unfastened the pin on the back, and slipped it around the length of rawhide, then refastened the pin so that the cameo dangled from the strap next to the pouch.     "NOW it's perfect," he said.

    "Byron, I am deeply touched," Rosalind said sincerely, as Michaela looked on with love and approval.

    "So am I," Sully told her.  "By everythin' you've done for Michaela and for me—and for givin' me this.  But if you ever want it back, you just tell me," he said.

    "No, it is where it belongs," Rosalind stated.  "It's part of your history, your heritage.  You hold onto it, and cherish it.  And then one day, when your dear Katie is a young woman, pass it down to her in memory of her grandmother—the first 'Katharine'—and her aunt Rosalind.  Let her know how much love it carries--for her, and for her father and mother.

    "Will you do that for me?" she asked, placing her hand over Sully's.

    "It will be my honor," he answered softly, and kissed her on the cheek.

    "You know, you never did get the chance to tell me about my ma," Sully reminded Rosalind after a few moments.  "Now seems like a good time, if it's all right with you—and with you, Michaela," he added, glancing at his wife.

    "I think it's a perfect time," Michaela agreed, reaching out to clasp Sully's hand.

    "I would enjoy that very much," Rosalind replied softly.

    She seated herself on the cot beside Michaela's bed and Sully returned to his seat.

    Then, the time passed as Rosalind spun a tale of two little girls from long ago, frolicking through wood and field in a faraway place called England . . .