Matthew strolled into the army camp, his eyes searching the grounds for the figure of Sgt. McKay.  A private walked by, and Matthew stopped him.  "The sergeant here?" he asked.  The private glanced around.  "There," he said, pointing to a nearby tent, where McKay stood talking with another of his men.

     "Obliged," Matthew said.  He closed the few yards which separated him from McKay, and stood slightly apart from the two army men as they conducted their conversation.  Their heads were bent over a map spread out over the top of a barrel outside the tent.  McKay used his finger to indicate a position on the map.  "After you cover this whole section, I want you to take this path and move further up in the hills," he instructed, his finger tracing a route.  "There's plenty of rocks and scrub—even a small canyon here where a man could take cover.  Don't leave any stone unturned.  I want this man found—whatever it takes."

     "You got it, Sergeant," the corporal said with alacrity.  He folded the map, and headed away toward a small contingent of soldiers standing near a cluster of tethered horses.  Matthew watched as the corporal and the men mounted up and turned their horses to head out of camp.

     "Sergeant," Matthew said.  McKay turned.  "Can I have a word?"

     "Mr. Cooper," McKay greeted him.  "What can I do for you?"

     "I came to see if you had any news on Flagg," Matthew told him.  "But I guess I got my answer," he added, nodding toward the departing soldiers.

     "It's true, we've found nothing yet, but there's still a large section of country we haven't covered," McKay responded.

     "Ain't it kind of late in the day to begin searchin'?" Matthew asked.

     "I've had other men out since sun-up," McKay answered.  "This is just the latest of my search parties.  They'll camp up in the hills, and resume their reconnaissance at first light.  I think you'd agree, Mr. Cooper, that time is of the essence."

     "Yeah, I do—but with all the men you got out searchin', will there be enough soldiers left here in town to protect Sully and Dr. Mike?" Matthew said, frowning slightly.

     "I promised that they would be protected, and I will honor that pledge," McKay stated.  "My men know their jobs, Mr. Cooper.  They will do their duty."

     "I'm sure they're doin' their best--but what happens if your search parties don't find nothin'?"  Matthew asked.  "You were right just now—there's a lot of country to cover, and your men could miss him, easy, no matter how good they are.  What if Flagg makes it to town and sneaks past your guards?"

     "Those are a lot of  'what ifs,'" McKay commented.  "And you're not giving my men much credit."

     "I'm just sayin', we need to be prepared for anythin'," Matthew cautioned him.  "And speakin' of that, how long are you gonna wait till you tell Sully the truth?  That's assumin' someone else don't tell him first."

     "And who do you think would tell him?" McKay asked.

     "I don't know—could be anybody," Matthew answered.  "Hank was right about one thing yesterday—this is a small town, and news has a way of gettin' around, no matter how careful you are.  'Sides, I feel bad, lyin' to Sully.  More than that, I'm worried—real worried.  It's one thing to keep the truth from Dr. Mike—she's still weak, and I wouldn't want her her scared and worryin'—maybe even havin' a relapse.  But Sully's got the right to know who's after them."

     "I can appreciate your feelings, Mr. Cooper, but I still believe this is the right course of action," McKay maintained.  "Look at it as a way of helping Sully, by preventing him from doing something foolish, and making his legal situation even worse.  I think you can agree that he has enough on his plate at present.

     "I said I wanted to hold off a couple of days," he added.  "It will be two days tomorrow—if we haven't had any leads by then, I'll tell Sully myself."

     "I got your word on that?" Matthew pressed him.

     "You have my word," McKay confirmed.

     "Sully's gonna have a fit when he founds out I knew all this and kept it from him," Matthew sighed.  "But I guess, if doin' this helps buy you the time to hunt down Flagg and save their lives, Sully bein' angry with me will be a small price to pay."

     "You have the right attitude," McKay told him.  "Sometimes, in situations like this, one must  weigh his options, and choose the lesser evil.  It's not always easy, but it's often necessary.  I believe, once Sully gets over his anger, that he'll recognize that you did what you thought best to protect him and your mother.  After all, he and Dr. Quinn will be, as you say, still alive."

     "Wish I were as confident as you," Matthew muttered.  "Well, I see that at least one thing's gone right," he added after a moment, changing the subject.  He nodded toward the empty stockade.  "From what I hear around town, it sounds like the release of the Indians went peacefully."

     "It's true—there weren't any major incidents," McKay confirmed.  "Except for Sheriff Lawson, who unleashed quite a tirade toward me.  He wouldn't be satisfied until I agreed to let him ride along part of the way with the army escort accompanying the Indians to the north.  And quite a crowd of merchants and townspeople gathered as well—most of them didn't look very happy.  I daresay I'll be receiving my share of complaints.

     "I hope Sully knew what he was doing," he said, his voice laced with skepticism.

     "Sergeant, one thing I can tell you for sure—where the Indians are concerned, you can trust Sully," Matthew assured him.  "Since the army don't seem willin' to listen to the Indians themselves, there ain't no man better fit to speak for them."

     "I can't help wondering, though, how Sully came by his information concerning Black Moon and the renegades," McKay said neutrally.  "Would you be able to shed any light on that, Mr. Cooper?"

     "If you got questions, ask Sully," was all Matthew would say.  As he turned to leave, he added,  "Remember, Sergeant—if you hear anythin', I want to know about it.  And regardless of what happens, I expect you to keep your promise and talk to Sully tomorrow.  'Cause if you won't, I will."

     McKay opened his mouth to answer, but Matthew turned on his heel and walked away, and McKay could  only watch as the young man headed out of the camp, making his way toward the bridge, and town.

* * * * * * * * * *

     "Excellent," Andrew said, removing his stethoscope from his ears and slipping it into his medical bag.  "Your pulse and heartbeat are strong, and the incision continues to heal well.  Your recuperative powers are quite impressive.  Michaela, I think tomorrow you will be well enough to get up and take a little exercise.  Nothing too ambitious, mind you," he added quickly.  "But I believe a brief turn up and down the hallway would not be amiss."

     "Ain't you rushin' things?" Sully asked worriedly.  "I mean, I'm grateful Michaela's recoverin' so well now, but it's only been a few days since her operation.  Don't she need more time to get her strength back before she gets out of bed?"

     "Moving around will help her regain her strength," Andrew explained.  "Exercise will strengthen her muscles, and stimulate the organs of her body to resume normal functioning.  We'll be right here by her side, to ensure that she doesn't overdue.  If she experiences any dizziness or nausea we'll take it a little slower.  But I anticipate that she'll do well."

     "Andrew's right, Sully," Michaela chimed in.  "It's what I would advise any patient of mine in the same condition.  Personally, I'm delighted with his recommendation.  I want to be out of this bed, and out of this room!  I want to be well—and the sooner that happens, the better."

     "We all want that Michaela, but a strong word of caution—just because you may be able to be up and around for brief periods, does NOT mean that you don't still require extensive bedrest—and will continue to require it for at least two more weeks," Andrew said firmly.  "Sully has promised to be my ally in ensuring that you follow my orders—and I hope you also will recognize the wisdom, and necessity, of what I've said."

     "I understand, and I promise to do what I'm told," Michaela said.  "But it's so hard, laying here and doing nothing."

     "It's only temporary," Sully reminded her.  "You'll be back workin' in the clinic and healin' other folks 'fore you know it.  But right now, you gotta work on healin' *you*."

     "I know," she sighed.  "I'm just not used to being the patient, instead of the doctor."

     "Enjoy it while you can," Andrew advised.  "There *is* something to be said for being pampered, you know," he added, his eyes twinkling.

     Michaela gave Sully a meaningful glance.  "So there is," she said softly, a seductive smile hovering about her lips.

     "And I'm just the man for the job," he responded, matching her expression with a smoldering look of his own.

     "Well, I think that is my cue to leave," Andrew spoke up.  "The injection I gave you should keep you comfortable for several hours, Michaela.  But don't hesitate to call for me if you experience any discomfort."

     "I will," she murmered absently, her eyes still fixed on Sully's.

     "I'll check on you later," Andrew said, with a knowing glance at the two of them.  Smiling to himself, he picked up his bag and left the room.

     Sully sat down on the bed next to Michaela.  Carefully she shifted over to make more room for him.

     "Easy does it," he cautioned softly.

     "I'm fine," Michaela assured him.

     Sully reached out and put his hands on her shoulders.  Gently he ran them down the length of her arms, the feather-light stroking of his fingertips causing goose bumps to erupt on her skin through the gossamer thin material.  Michaela felt a familiar core of desire ignite and begin to simmer deep within her.  The heat of her response intensified, traveling up through her body to color her cheeks and set her eyes aglow with a smoldering flame.

     Her desire was mirrored in Sully's face.  He gave her his "special" smile, slow and sensuous.

     "You heard the doctor," he said.  "'Pamperin'' is the order of the day.  So what would you like—flowers, sweets—maybe some candlelight?"

     "Just you," she whispered throatily.

     He took her hand and kissed it softly.  "You got me—that goes without sayin'." he responded.
"But you need food for the body, as well as food for the soul.  How 'bout we start with this fine supper Grace brought over?"  He nodded toward a linen-covered tray sitting on the adjacent cot.

     "It was so kind of Grace to bring the food, and for Dorothy to come along so they could bring Katie with them," Michaela remarked.  "I've missed my precious little girl so much!"

     "I know you have," he said tenderly, stroking her cheek.

     "Dorothy looked well, don't you think?" Michaela added.

     "Yeah, she did," Sully agreed.  "I know Andrew helped her a lot, but I think going back to the Gazette is what's curin' her!"

     "I believe you're right," Michaela said.

     "I know how glad you were to be with Katie again, but are you sure her visit didn't tire you out?" he asked.

     "Oh no!" Michaela exclaimed.  "You, Katie, the children—you're my best medicine."

     "Well right now, it's time to have a little of Grace's 'medicine,'" Sully said.  "Then, after we've eaten, we'll . . . let nature take its course."

     She looked slightly troubled.  "There's nothing I'd like more.  But Sully, when we kissed before, you said—you couldn't let yourself go on, because—if you did--“   Her words dwindled away as she found it difficult once again to express her sexual thoughts out loud.

     He kissed her hand again.  "I know what I said," he answered softly.  "But there's ways, and there's ways, Michaela.  I can 'love' you without—goin' all the way—so to speak.  There's touchin'—“   He drew his fingertip down her cheek.  "And there's kissin'—“   He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.  "And there's holdin'
. . ."  Slipping his arms around her, he drew her to him gently.  Michaela pressed her body against his, intoxicated by the scent of his skin, the feel of his hard, muscular chest—the very *nearness* of him.  Her pulse thundered in her ears, matching the galloping beat of his  heart.   She was losing herself in the mutual fire of their passion, and more than anything, she wanted to let herself be consumed.  However, after several dizzying moments, she somehow forced herself to pull away.

     "But it's not fair, Sully," she said breathlessly. "To—‘stimulate' you like this, and then not be able to—to satisfy you," she finished in a rush, her cheeks burning.  She looked away, but he laid his hand against her cheek and turned her face back to his so that he could look into her eyes.

     "Why don't you let me decide what's fair?" he told her softly.  "Bein' with you like this gives me just as much joy as any love-makin' we ever done.  Think of it as a—a 'preview' of the future.

    "In fact," he went on, "Let's not worry about any of that for now.  Let's just enjoy this time we got together, and make it sweet.  Startin' with this."  He released her and stood up.  Smiling at her provocatively, he moved to the window and drew the curtains against the encroaching dark.  Then, he went to the nightstand and turned down the flame of the lamp ever so slightly, so that its glow illuminated the bed, but left the rest of the room in shadow.  Finally, he retrieved the tray Grace had brought, and placed it on the empty space of the bed he had just vacated.  Removing the napkin, he revealed pot roast with vegetables and coffee for him, and soup, custard and tea for Michaela.

     "You need your nourishment," he told her.  "And after that, we'll see . . ."   The deep blueness of his eyes held a message of promise.  Michaela inhaled the mouth-watering aroma of the food, and realized suddenly that she was, indeed, quite hungry—for food, as well as other things.  She smiled back at him.

     "Let's eat," she said.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Sometime later, their need for food satiated, they lay side by side on the bed.  Sully's arm was around her, so that Michaela lay against him, her back pillowed against his chest.  The fingers of Sully's other hand were entwined in a lock of her hair.

     "So what would you like to do now?" he asked softly.  "Maybe read some Whitman?  This seems like a perfect time."

     "That would be lovely," she said.  "But first—I was thinking--perhaps we could practice?"

     He looked at her quizzically.  "Practice what?"

     "I would like to try standing—even taking a few steps," Michaela told him.  "Andrew said it was time."

     "He said tomorrow, Michaela," Sully reminded her.  "'Sides, he ain't here."

     "We don't need Andrew," she said.  "You can support me perfectly well.  And tomorrow isn't long from now.  A matter of a few hours won't make any difference."

     He was silent for a few moments.  Michaela waited, certain he would refuse her request.

     "All right," he said suddenly.  Michaela stared at him.

     "You mean it?" she said in amazement.

     "Sure," he told her, smiling.  "I know how hard it is to be cooped up inside, cut off from everythin' goin' on around you.  You could use a breath of fresh air."

     "Thank you, Sully," Michaela said, surprised and grateful that he understood.   She started to raise herself to a sitting position.  "Let's try," she added eagerly.

     "Hold it," he told her, sliding out from behind her carefully while bracing her with his arm. "We're gonna do this, but we're gonna do it my way."  He lowered her back against the pillows, then got to his feet.

     "What do you mean?" she asked.

     "Patience," he said.  He took a folded quilt from the foot of the bed and shook it out, then laid it down.  Next, he turned down the bedclothes.  Moving to Michaela, he hunched down by the side of the bed and slipped one arm behind her back.  With the other, he grasped her left arm.

     "All right, now.  Slow and easy, I want you to raise up, then slide your legs around to the side," he instructed.  Carefully, she did as he said, his arms supporting her all the while.  Within a few seconds, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the floor.

     "Now let's stop a minute so you can rest," he said.

     "I'm all right, Sully," she protested, but his expression was adamant.

     "We ain't gonna rush this, Michaela," he told her.  "We take it slow, or not at all."

     "All right," she agreed, recognizing the wisdom of his warning.  A minute or two passed while she acclimated herself to being in this position for the first time in several days.  She waited for any sign of dizziness or nausea, but none was forthcoming.

     "You all right?" Sully asked anxiously.  "You feel sick or light-headed?"

     "No, not at all," she assured him.

     He smiled.  "That's a good sign," he said.  "All right—you ready for the next step?"

     "More than ready," she answered.

     "Again, we're gonna go slow," he cautioned.  "You may be all right while you're sittin', but standin' up may be a different story."

     "I'm prepared," she said.

     "Put your arms around my neck," Sully told her.  "Hold on tight.  On the count of three, I'm gonna raise you to your feet."  She followed his instructions, lacing her fingers together firmly around the back of his neck.  He placed his arms around her securely, under her armpits.  "Here goes," he said.  "One . . . two . . . three!"  On the count of three, he raised himself slowly to his feet, bringing her with him.  Michaela clung to him, realizing how weak she had become since her surgery.

     "You all right?" Sully asked quickly.  "You dizzy?"

     She shook her head slightly.  "No—no dizziness.  I just—feel like a helpless newborn kitten."

     "That's natural," he said.  "It will pass.  Just hold onto me—I got you.  We'll stand for a moment, let you get your sea legs," he added.  They did so, Michaela's muscles quivering slightly from the effort.

     "I'm gonna move around you now and support you from the side," Sully told her.  "Don't worry, I've got a good hold on you—I ain't gonna let you go."

     Carefully he eased his way around her, his strong arms holding her up every moment.  Soon they were standing side by side, Sully's left arm firmly wrapped around her back and side, his right hand holding her left.

     "How do you feel?" he asked.

     "Like a baby learning to stand for the first time," Michaela said ruefully.  "But—it feels good, too."

     "Good," Sully said.  "And 'baby' steps is all you got to worry about right now."

     "Can we try walking?" Michaela asked.

     "Actually, I had somethin' else in mind," Sully said.  Releasing her hand, he reached for the quilt he had lain out earlier.  In a dexterous display of balance and skill, he managed to wrap the quilt around her shoulders while still holding onto her securely.

     "Sully—what are you doing?" Michaela asked, mystified.

     "This," he said, and then with one smooth movement, he swept her up into his arms.  "Let's get some fresh air," he said.