Thursday, 15 March, 1870

     Dr. Mike brought the Cooper kids to see me today.  She said they’d been wanting to visit since I woke up, but she thought it was better for them to wait awhile till I got more used to things, so I wouldn’t be so shocked by the change.  I think she was right.  The three kids who stood before me weren’t the same children I remembered—heck, except for Brian, they weren’t children at all.  And even Brian wasn’t little no more.  I had to keep reminding myself that though time has stopped for me, for them and everybody else, nearly three years have gone by.

     Colleen’s a pretty young lady now.  And Matthew—he’s become a man.  Dr. Mike said he’s even engaged to be married to one of the immigrants—a young Swedish girl named Ingrid.  And Brian—he’s grown so much.  No longer the tow-headed little fellow with the missing front teeth who used to beg me to play with my tomahawk.

     They all seemed glad to see me.  I told them how sorry I was to hear about Charlotte—and how much I’d miss her.  They said they missed her too, but that Dr. Mike had given them a good home, and been a real good ma to them.  Our conversation kind of dwindled after that.  It seemed like there was a lot they wanted to tell me, but they were nervous—maybe even afraid.  They kept looking at Dr. Mike, as if to ask her what to say.  In the end, there didn’t seem to be much to talk about.

     I felt bad—I didn’t want them feeling uncomfortable, or scared to be around me.  But I guess when you got a part of your memories missing, people don’t know how to act or what to say in front of you.

     I was depressed after they left.  Dr. Mike asked again if I’d started writing down my memories, or if any of the missing pieces had started to come back.  But I didn’t feel like talking.

     Truth is, I don’t even feel like writing anymore . . .

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER TWO

     “Nothing’s going on,” Michaela replied, and then hesitated.  “Well, that’s not strictly true,” she amended.  “Today is Parent’s Day at the school, and Brian was very anxious to know if you would be there to hear him read his essay.”

     Sully looked startled.  “That’s today?” he asked.

     “Yes,” Michaela confirmed, watching him.  “Is that a problem?”

     “No—no problem,” he said after a fraction’s hesitation.  “Just slipped my mind is all.”

     “Will you be able to come?” Michaela persisted, feeling a twinge of unease.

     He bit his lip, and cut his eyes away from her a moment, as if not sure how to respond.  But a moment later he looked back and said, “Sure—I’ll be there.”  He glanced over at the stove.  “Uh, got any coffee?”

     “Yes, of course.  I’ll get you some,” Michaela replied, starting to rise from the table, but Sully put up his hand to forestall her.

     “No need to trouble yourself.  I’ll fetch it,” he said.  He turned his back to her and occupied himself with taking a cup from a hook on the wall and filling it from the metal pot warming on the stove.  Michaela waited quietly.  She was conscious of relief that Brian wouldn’t be disappointed, but overlaying  that emotion was a palpable feeling of disquiet at how Sully had reacted to the question of whether he would attend Parent’s Day.  Perhaps she had not been “borrowing trouble” after all.  Something did seem to be on Sully’s mind.  The question was whether he intended to share it with her.

     He sat down opposite her with a pleasant smile, but his eyes were distracted, and she sensed that his thoughts were turned inward.  A silence fell between them, and Michaela was debating whether to break it when Sully said unexpectedly, “So what’s Brian’s essay about?”

     It was not like Sully to indulge in small talk, and Michaela’s disquiet increased slightly.  But she decided to follow his lead for the moment.

     “Brian wrote about the flying machine be built a few weeks ago,” she said.  “Well perhaps I should say ‘machines’—since he actually built three.”

     “Oh yeah,” Sully said.  “Never could figure what it was ‘bout flyin’ that fascinates Brian so much.  But it was real impressive, what he did.  I’m sorry I wasn’t around when he was workin’ on it.”

     “Yes, that was when you went to the army camp at Wrightwood to inform Superintendent  Hazen you were resigning as Indian Agent,” Michaela recalled.

     “”Cept it didn’t turn out exactly like I planned,” Sully commented, sipping his coffee and not looking at her.

     “You certainly couldn’t have known that you’d encounter Loren in the woods and have to rescue him when he had the accident with his wagon and broke his leg,” Michaela noted.  “But thank goodness you were there!   Loren was very lucky to have you as his ‘Good Samaritan,’ Sully.”

     “Anyone else woulda done the same,” said Sully uncomfortably.

     “I disagree,” Michaela said.  “You put aside your own concerns, treated Loren’s injury the best you could, and then transported him all the way to the surgeon at the army camp—despite the fact that it was a long, arduous and even dangerous journey.”

     “You give me too much credit, Michaela,” he responded.  “I was headed to Wrightwood anyway.  Truth is, I was selfish.  I should have brought Loren back here to you, but I was so set on seein’ Hazen, I insisted on pushin’ on to the army camp, and it caused us both a lot more trouble.”  His tone had a note of finality in it, his manner suggesting that he wasn’t proud of his actions and didn’t want to pursue the topic.

     Quiet descended again.  But Sully’s attitude about his rescue of Loren, and his aborted plan to quit his job as Indian Agent, nagged at Michaela.  Something clearly seemed to be disturbing him.  Perhaps something had occurred during the journey that he hadn’t told her—or maybe his distress had to do with the anger and frustration he’d been feeling that caused him to make the trip in the first place.  Despite his apparent desire to avoid the subject, she felt compelled to question him further.

     “I remember that when you returned from that trip, and ripped up your letter of resignation, you seemed to be more content,” she ventured.  “I always had the impression that Loren must have said something to you to change your mind, but you never actually told me what happened between the two of you.”

     “Loren said a lot of things,” Sully replied.  “So did I.  Mostly what we did was argue—‘bout him buyin’ the Cheyenne land, ‘bout me quittin’ as Agent.  But he saved my life when I slid down the hill crossin’ the washout, and then later, he said some things that made me think, and reconsider what I was doin’.

     “’Course after we saw the squatters destroyin’ the Cheyenne burial ground, Loren said some other things to me that made me wanna take a swing at him,” Sully added with a slight smile, but there was no cheer in it.

     (“More squatters up ahead,” he said to Loren as he led the horse pulling the travois toward the shady glen.

      “How many?” Loren asked, twisting around to look from his berth on the litter.

      “Looks like a married couple,” he replied.

      Loren’s eyes widened.  “Sully—that’s a burial ground, in’t?”

      “Yep.”

      “You got to *stop* those folks!” Loren told him.  “They’re gonna build right on top of it!”

      “So?” he answered bitterly.  “You’re gonna build on the land as well.”

      “But—this is *sacred* ground,” protested Loren.

      Sully’s heart twisted inside him.  “You don’t care about that.”

      “No,” Loren admitted.  “But you do.  Leastways you always did.  You always cared.”  Loren paused.   “You’re not the Sully I know.”

      He glanced at Loren and then back at the squatters.  “Like you said, Loren, if we stop ‘em somebody else will build here.  Will we stop them too?  And the ones that come after that?  ‘Cause they’re gonna keep comin’ and there’s nothin’ we can do about it.”  He stared toward the squatters, his eyes bleak.  “Nothin’,” he added.

      “There’s always somethin’ ta do!” exclaimed Loren.  “You know that.  You just ain’t got the *guts* anymore!  That’s why you’re quittin’.

      “You’re givin’ up,” Loren said, piercing Sully’s defenses.  “Just like your pa.  *And* your ma.  You’re quittin’ because you’re a coward!”

      Sully stared at Loren.  “And you’re a fool.”

      “I may be a fool,” said Loren, “but I’m tellin’ the truth.  You just don’t wanna hear it.”)

     He’d called Loren a fool, but he hadn’t meant it.  Because Loren had been right . . .

     “May I ask what?” Michaela ventured again.

     “Hm?” he responded, pulling himself back to the present.

     “What things did Loren say—to change your mind?”

     Sully chewed on his lower lip.  “Just—things,” he replied vaguely.  “Not worth goin’ into.”  He stood up from the table abruptly.  “You ready to go to town?”

     “Just about,” Michaela said, but she didn’t move from her chair.  On impulse, she added, “Sully, is something wrong?”

     He froze in the act of taking his cup to the sink, and turned to face her.  “Why would you ask that?”

     Michaela didn’t reply, but merely looked at him intently.

     After a moment Sully returned slowly to the table and set his cup back down.  He lowered himself into his seat and laid the palms of his hands on the tabletop.  “Nothin’s wrong.” he began.  “Not exactly, anyway.  That is—well . . .”  He trailed off, seemingly unable to find the words to articulate his feelings.  “I just been thinkin’ lately, that I—“  He hesitated again.

     “What?” she encouraged.

     “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout Cloud Dancin’,” Sully went on after a long pause.  “Wonderin’ if he’s all right—if he’s safe.  I keep wishin’ I could talk to him.”

     “We all miss Cloud Dancing very much,” Michaela said gently.

     “I know,” Sully acknowledged.  “And I appreciate how much you and the kids care about him.  But for me, it’s different.  Ever since—“  He paused again, as if finding it difficult to get the words out.  “Ever since Washita, I feel like I can’t get things sorted out in my mind and heart, till I see Cloud Dancin’ again.”

     The scene of the massacre filled Michaela’s mind, and she was conscious of a knife-like coldness cutting through her heart, as well as a flood of compassion for the pain Sully must be feeling.  After Sully’s return from his trip to see Hazen, she had surmised from his demeanor that he had resolved his feelings about Washita, or at least made a kind of peace within himself about the loss of Black Kettle, Snowbird, and the other Cheyenne.  But his present state of mind made it abundantly clear that he was as deeply  wounded about their deaths now, as he had been at the time of the tragedy.  In many ways, she  realized suddenly, Sully may have been suffering more than herself, or even Cloud Dancing.  At least she and the Cheyenne medicine man had been able to share their pain and feelings of guilt, and had embarked upon their path to healing, through the process of Cloud Dancing sharing the rest of his knowledge with her about Cheyenne medicine.  But Sully had never really had the chance to heal.  In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, he had persisted in being strong for her, supporting her as she went through her own dark night of the soul.  Then, once she had begun to recover, he had almost feverishly thrown his energies back into finishing the homestead.

    But the memory of Washita was always there, for both of them.  Michaela knew that confronting that unspeakable evil had been hard enough for Sully to bear.  But when he learned that the army had started rounding up Indians of differing tribes—many of them enemies of one another; and that these Indians would be forced to live together on a new reservation called Palmer Creek, against their will, with *him* in charge to keep the peace—his tolerance finally snapped.  He’d had enough.  No longer could he allow himself to be thwarted at every turn in his efforts to help and protect the Indians.  No longer could he be an unwilling accomplice in the government’s mistreatment of them.  He had to resign—thus washing his hands, once and for all, of the wickedness being perpetrated by the government and the army.

     Michaela had exhorted him not to quit, believing that deep in his heart, he was incapable of abandoning the Indians to whatever harsh fate awaited them.  Once the black cloud of Washita began to lift, she reasoned, Sully would be able to see clearly again, and find the strength and fortitude to go on.  And when, a few days later, he had returned home to her with the letter of resignation still in his pocket, she had concluded that her instincts about him had been correct.

     But what if she’d been wrong, she thought now.  What if Sully had denied his real feelings—his inner pain—just to please her, believing this is what she wanted?  Had she done Sully a great harm by urging him to tear up his letter to Hazen, inadvertently forcing him to continue in a role that was increasingly painful and odious for him?

     Michaela thought now that Sully’s pain went far deeper than she had ever realized; and that instead of lessening and going away, it had simply turned inward, growing worse as time went on.  He had been suffering in silence, and she had been too blind to see it.

     “I wish Cloud Dancing was here, too,” she said to Sully now, covering his hands with hers.  “For your sake, for his—and for mine as well.  But we have to accept that he’s far away in the north.  We simply have to trust that he’s safe and well with Live In Hopes and the Northern Cheyenne, and that someday, he’ll be able to find happiness again.”

     “You’re right—about him bein’ happy, I mean,” Sully replied.  “I want that for him too, more than anythin’.  But about the other—him still bein’ in the north.  That might not be true.”

     “What do you mean?” asked Michaela apprehensively, fearing that something might have happened to their friend.

     “I’ve—heard rumors—that he might be back,” Sully answered.

     “Back?” Michaela repeated.  “You mean near Colorado Springs?  But Sully, it could be so dangerous for him!  From what I’ve read in the Gazette and the Denver Post, Sheridan and Custer aren’t going to be content with the slaughter at Washita.  They’re determined to ‘exterminate’ every Indian in the territory!”

     “I know,” Sully said grimly, the brilliant blue of his eyes turning to slate.  “That’s what I’m afraid of.  It’s why I’ve been thinkin’—well that is, why I decided—I gotta go look for him.  Fact is, I was gonna leave today—till you reminded me ‘bout Brian.  I’ll hold off goin’ till after that, but then . . .”  He trailed off, looking at her uneasily for her reaction.

     Michaela was shocked into silence.  Her compassion for Cloud Dancing and concern for his safety, was warring inwardly with her dismay that Sully had planned to just take off, without warning, and without discussing his plans with her—and that in doing so, he could be putting himself in terrible danger.

     “What are you thinkin’?” Sully asked her after a moment, his eyes direct, but guarded.

     “I’m—I’m not quite sure,” Michaela answered slowly, her thoughts chaotic.  She tried to put her feelings in some kind of order.  “I must confess that you took me by surprise,” she continued finally.  “This is—not what I was expecting.”

     “I know,” Sully acknowledged.  “And I’m sorry for springin’ it on you, all of a sudden.  I wanted to say somethin’ sooner—just could never seem to find the right moment.  But Michaela, it’s somethin’ I gotta do.”

     Michaela considered her words carefully.  Sully studied her face, attempting to gauge her mood.  But he remained silent, determined not to rush her or try to influence her opinion.  Presently she took a deep breath and stared into his eyes.

     “Sully, I know how worried you’ve been about Cloud Dancing,” she began.  “So have I.  You know I’ve come to love him dearly, as if he were my brother as well.  Seeing his wife and chief and the members of his tribe—murdered—was the most heart-wrenching tragedy a soul could ever endure, and my heart breaks for him.  Just as yours does.  I know how much you want to protect him, and end his suffering.  I would give anything if I could do the same.”  She paused, feeling as if she were about to venture out onto shaky ground.  Sully was hunched slightly forward, listening to her intently.

     “But—is going in search of Cloud Dancing now truly wise?” she went on tentatively.  “The situation with the army and the Indians is so precarious.  Custer continues to lurk in the vicinity, and we know to our sorrow how arrogant and cold-blooded he is.  He’s completely amoral, and capable of anything, Sully.  He would arrest Cloud Dancing—perhaps even shoot him—without a second’s hesitation.  And I’m desperately afraid that he might do the same to you, if he caught you both together.”

     “Cloud Dancin’ knows all there is to know ‘bout concealin’ himself from his enemies—and he taught it all to me,” Sully reminded her quietly.

     “That’s true, of course,” Michaela conceded.  “And I’m deeply grateful that you both possess those skills.  But you’re only two, against an army.  Look at the bloodshed Custer’s already caused.  I just can’t help but be terribly afraid for your safety.”

     “Is that the only thing botherin’ you?” Sully asked, accurately perceiving that there was more to her list of objections.

     “No,” Michaela admitted after a moment’s hesitation.  “I also have to question the common sense of your decision.  You said you’d heard ‘rumors’ that Cloud Dancing was back, Sully.  But you don’t know for sure.  What if those rumors are wrong?  You could waste days—perhaps weeks—looking for him.

     “And what do you intend to do if you find him?” she continued.  “You can’t bring him back here, and you can’t make Custer go away.”

     “I can warn him—and travel with him back to the north.  Do what I can to make sure he gets there safe,” Sully said.

     “Sully, that could keep you away for weeks,” she burst out.  “Right at the time when I need you here most.  And—“

     “And what?” he said.  His eyes had subtly changed expression, and he sat back in his chair, putting an uncomfortable distance between them.

     “And there’s the wedding,” Michaela said reluctantly, finally voicing the thought that had been at the back of her mind from the moment Sully had declared his intention to leave town.  She knew how selfish and trivial it sounded, compared to the danger Cloud Dancing was facing, but she couldn’t help it.  She and Sully were to be married, in just little more than two months.  The day she had been dreaming of for so long.  She had so many hopes, so many plans.  It was inconceivable that after all her expectations, something might happen at the last minute to imperil their wedding—perhaps even their future.

     “Please understand me,” she said rapidly, as Sully’s expression grew even more remote.  “I wouldn’t for a moment suggest that our wedding is more important than Cloud Dancing’s life.  But—he was so happy about our union, Sully—as was Snowbird.  They both wanted us to be together, and to be happy.  I don’t think Cloud Dancing would want you to put our wedding in jeopardy to go in search of him.  I believe he would want us to go on with our plans and celebrate our life together, after so much suffering and—and death.  I know he would be with us in spirit.”

     “You’re talkin’ ‘bout him like he’s dead too,” Sully said coldly.

     Michaela stared at him in shock.  “No!” she exclaimed.  “That’s not what I meant at all!  I was just trying to say—“

     He sighed heavily and stood up.  “I know what you meant,” he conceded.  “And I understand how much the weddin’ means to you—means a lot to me, too.  But I couldn’t take any joy in it if I thought I’d abandoned my brother when he needed me most.”  He turned away from her and began to walk toward the door.

     “Where are you going?” she said anxiously.

     Sully stopped and faced her.  “I got things to do,” he said shortly, then turned and reached for the door handle, letting himself out onto the porch.

     “Will you still come this afternoon?” Michaela called to his retreating back, but received only the closing of the door in reply.

     Tears stinging her eyes, she buried her face in her hands.