Monday, 26 March, 1870

     Moments later, she joined me on the porch.  I was standing with my back to the door when I heard it open, and hastily I stuffed the telegram back inside my shirt.

     The mood between us was cordial, as we watched the setting sun splash the sky with a glorious riot of red, orange and gold.  But by unspoken agreement, we also knew that our day together had come to an end.

    I offered to walk back to town, to save her the trouble of having to drive me.  Fact is, I was anxious to get away from her.  I didn’t think I could hide my shame over taking the telegram, and that somehow, she’d see the truth in my face.  But she wouldn’t hear of me going on foot.  She said I was recovering well, but not strong enough yet for a walk of that distance.  I figured it was best not to argue with her, and draw her attention to my unease.  So a short time later we were back in the driver’s box of the wagon, the trip into town much quieter and seeming a whole lot longer than the one we’d taken to the homestead just a few hours before.

    All the way back, my mind was fixed on that stolen piece of paper, my guilt making it feel like a searing hot coal as it rested against my skin.  Irrationally, I halfway feared that it would burn a hole clear through my shirt.  But as ashamed as I was for having taken it, I was equally compelled to read it at my first opportunity.  I wasn’t sure why I felt so driven to know its contents.  I could tell myself that it was a way of learning more about Dr. Mike, but that was an excuse and a lie.   The unpleasant truth was that the jealousy I’d felt when she talked about her “friend” was still lurking inside me, and I just had to find out more about him—since I was all but certain that he had been the author of the telegram.

    Preoccupied as I was with my own thoughts, I didn’t immediately notice that Dr. Mike was being unnaturally quiet as well.
Perhaps, like me, her mind was equally filled by this mysterious stranger who had suddenly become such a large and invisible obstacle between us. Whatever her thoughts, I think she was as relieved as I was not to have to make conversation.

    The trip finally came to an end, as we pulled up outside the clinic.  Darkness had fallen, its dusky curtain serving to conceal our features from one another.  I was grateful for the anonymity of the night, fearing that by now my guilt must be shining from my face like a beacon.  I put up the reins and climbed quickly down from the wagon.

    “Thanks for the ride,” I said.  “And for supper—it was real fine.”

    “You’re welcome,” she responded politely.  “But I wasn’t going to leave just yet.  I wanted to examine you again, to make sure our excursion didn’t affect you adversely.  After all, this was your first trip outside the clinic since you fell ill and were injured.”

    “It ain’t necessary, Dr. Mike,” I told her, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.  “The fresh air did me good, just like you said it would.  And the time I spent with you all was real nice.  I’m all right—you don’t need to fret no more.  Besides, I don’t want it getting too late before you drive back.  Go on, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

    “If you’re sure . . .” she said uncertainly.

    “Go ahead,” I repeated.

    “Very well,” she agreed reluctantly.  “Get a good night’s rest, and I’ll check on you first thing tomorrow.”  She picked up the reins, as I moved to the door of the clinic.  I put my hand on the knob, and then—I just couldn’t go through with it.  Much as I wanted to see what was in that wire, I couldn’t bring myself to lie to her any more.

    The wagon started to move, as I quickly turned and ran back across the porch and into the street.

    “Dr. Mike!”  I called from behind her.  “Wait!”

* * * * * * * * * *

     She jerked on the reins, bringing the horse and wagon to an abrupt stop.  Twisting around on the bench to look back at me, she said in concern, “What is it Sully?  Are you ill?”

     “No, nothing like that,” I answered, looking up at her.  Slowly I walked toward the wagon, uncomfortably aware of the handful of customers on the porch of the saloon watching us with undisguised interest.  I reached her, and said in a lower voice, “There’s something I need to tell you—but I’d rather not do it in front of an audience.”  I inclined my eyes toward the saloon, and she nodded in understanding.

     She started to climb down, and of their own accord my hands reached up to encircle her waist and lift her gently to the ground.  We stood facing each other for a few seconds, my hands lingering at her waist until I suddenly realized what I was doing and dropped them awkwardly to my sides.

     “Shall we go in?” she suggested, and I nodded, dreading the next few minutes—yet still anticipating the chance to spend a little more time alone with her.  I couldn’t believe that I was having those thoughts, even while I was feeling so guilty for having deceived her—but there it was.

     I followed her into the main room of the clinic and waited nervously while she moved around the room, igniting the lamps.  She finished, then turned to face me, the glow of the lamplight putting a soft blush in her cheeks, and reflecting warmly from her eyes.

     “What is it, Sully?” she asked.  “Is something troubling you?”

     I cleared my throat.  “Yeah,” I said reluctantly.  “That’s exactly right—something *is* troubling me.”  Slowly I reached into my shirt and withdrew the telegram.  “Before, at the homestead . . . when I dropped the book, this fell out . . .  I took it,” I admitted, holding it out to her.  She looked at me, puzzled, as she accepted the paper, then unfolded it and glanced quickly at the contents.  A moment later, she looked back up at me, all trace of warmth gone from her eyes, replaced by an expression of resentment and betrayal.

     “You took this?” she repeated, and her voice was tight with anger.  “Why?”

     I swallowed.  “I ain’t sure,” I said honestly.  “I guess . . . I just had to know—“

     “Know what?” she interrupted sharply.  “About my personal affairs?  This was private Sully.  You had no right!”

     “I know—I’m sorry—“ I tried to say, but it was as if she hadn’t heard me.

     “Well, are you satisfied?” she demanded, her face white with fury—and something else.  Was it—could it—be fear?  “Is your curiosity finally assuaged now?  Or do you perhaps have other questions you’d like to ask?” she added sarcastically.

     “I’m sorry,” I repeated.  “It was wrong, I know that.  That’s why I had to tell you—why I’m giving it back.”  I hesitated.  “I didn’t read it.”

     “Oh, come now,” she said coldly.  “After all the trouble you took to take and conceal it from me?”

     “I deserve that,” I said.  “But I’m telling you the truth.  I saw it was addressed to you, and I saw the signature.  But I didn’t read the rest—I swear.”

     “Because you didn’t have the time!” she lashed out, nailing me with the truth.

     “Partly,” I said after a pause.  “But mostly because I knew it was wrong and I couldn’t lie to you no more.”

     She was silent for several moments, staring down at the telegram crumpled in her hands.  Finally she looked up at me, her eyes wintry and remote.

     “Why?” she asked me again.  “Why would you want to hurt me this way?”

     “I didn’t!” I exclaimed, stricken.  “I’d never deliberately hurt you, Dr. Mike.  It’s just—something come over me when I saw it.  Suddenly I just had to read it—I had to know . . .”

     “Know what?” she repeated.  “You keep saying that.  What did you *have* to know, Sully, that you couldn’t simply ask me?”

     I took a deep breath.  “About him,” I said.

     “My fiance?” she asked.  “I told you.  His name was David Lewis.  He was a doctor, then a captain in the Union army.  We were engaged, but decided not to marry after all—“

     “No, not him,” I interrupted.

     She stared at me, angry and confused.  “Well then, who—?“ she began.

     “The other one,” I said.  “The man you gave him up for.”

     The silence between us was thick and heavy, as her face paled even more.  The only sound in the room was the nearby clock, loudly and relentlessly ticking off the seconds.

     “I have nothing more to say to you,” she said at last.

     “Dr. Mike—“

     “I’ll check on you in the morning, as I promised,” she said shortly, and walked out, the door closing with finality behind her.

     Dejectedly I dropped into a chair, leaning my head back and staring hopelessly at the ceiling.  I would get no sleep tonight.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

     Colleen and the Reverend found Michaela in an exhausted slumber, her head still pillowed on Sully’s chest, the following morning.

     “Ma?” Colleen said softly, gently shaking her mother awake.

     Michaela opened her eyes with a start, looking a trifle disoriented as she sat up, yawning.  A moment or two passed as she made sense of her surroundings, and her eyes cleared.

     “Ma, have you been here all night?” Colleen asked, her voice reproving but her expression compassionate and concerned.

     “Oh—Colleen,” Michaela said, automatically looking first at Sully, and then up at her daughter.  “I suppose I fell asleep.”  Her eyes caught sight of Reverend Johnson.  “Good morning, Reverend,” she added, surprised to see him there.  “Can I help you?”

     “Good morning, Dr. Mike,” the Reverend responded.  “And thank you for your kindness, but I’m not the one who needs help.  On the contrary, I came to see how Sully was, and to offer my services to you to come and sit with him after school.  Colleen told me how many hours you’ve put in, tending to Sully, with very little rest.  Several of us here in town would like to volunteer to spend time with Sully so that you can have a break.”

     “That’s very kind of you, Reverend—“ Michaela began politely.

     “Ma, please let us help you,” Colleen broke in, anticipating what her mother was about to say.  “You can’t keep pushin’ yourself so hard.  Look at last night.  I bet you hardly got any sleep at all.  You need to go over to Grace’s and eat somethin’ nourishin’, then come back here and take a nap.  I’ll take care of Sully.”

     “Colleen, your offer is so kind and unselfish, but you can’t—you have school,” Michaela protested.

     “The Reverend says I can miss a day or two,” Colleen told her, glancing at the minister for confirmation.

     “That’s right,” Reverend Johnson echoed.  “It won’t do Colleen any harm to miss a few days.  She’s far beyond anyone else in class.  And I can easily prepare some assignments for her.  She can work on them right here in the clinic.  And once she does return to school, your friends and neighbors will happily take turns watching Sully so that you can rest and regain your strength.”

     Michaela was touched that so many people were concerned for Sully and herself, and so willing to rally to their side.  But as much as she appreciated their generosity, it was clear they didn’t understand how precarious Sully’s condition was, and how necessary it was that she be the one to nurse and watch over him.

     “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to all of you for your thoughtfulness,” she ventured again.  “But I’m afraid Sully’s condition is still very serious, and it requires that I—“

     “Ma,”  Colleen said suddenly, her voice queerly excited.

     Michaela’s eyes flew to her daughter’s face.  Colleen was gazing raptly at Sully.  Michaela followed Colleen’s glance.  For several seconds she stared fixedly at Sully, then reached out a shaking hand and placed it on his forehead.

    “Oh my,” she gasped softly.

     “What is it?” asked the Reverend urgently, unable to tell if the news was good or bad.

     Michaela didn’t answer immediately, preoccupied with stroking the damp hair off Sully’s sweaty forehead.  Finally she responded, her voice shaking a little, “The fever flush is gone, and his skin is damp and cool.  The fever’s broken.”

     “Thank the Lord!” the Reverend declared.

     “Oh, Ma—I’m so happy!” Colleen exclaimed softly, hugging her mother tightly.  Michaela gladly returned the embrace, then fumbled in her apron pocket for her stethoscope.  Quickly she pressed the bell to Sully’s chest.  After a few moments, she moved the stethoscope to other locations, listening carefully for sounds in his lungs.  Finally she laid the instrument aside and sat back, holding tightly to Sully’s hand.

     “His heartbeat and pulse are strong and regular, and he’s breathing much more easily.  The congestion in his lungs is greatly diminished,” she said aloud, hardly daring to believe the evidence before her eyes.  “He’s overcoming the infection.  I believe—he’s going to be all right.”  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.  Colleen wrapped her arms around Michaela’s shoulders and pressed her cheek to her mother’s.  “I knew it!” she whispered joyfully.  “I knew you’d pull him through, Ma.”

     “This is wonderful news!” Reverend Johnson chimed in.  “The Lord has answered our prayers.”

     riefly Michaela let herself bask in joy and relief that Sully had overcome one of the dangerous hurdles to his recovery.  But immediately crowding in on her happiness was the dark realization that he still had another, and very different, hurdle to face.  One, perhaps, that was even more serious.

     “You’re right, Reverend, this is very good news,” she acknowledged, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks and attempting to collect herself.  “But Sully isn’t out of the woods yet.  He has yet to regain consciousness—and the more time that passes that he doesn’t awaken, the more there’s cause for concern.”

     “Ma, now that the fever’s broken, I’m sure Sully will be wakin’ up any time,” Colleen said confidently.

     “I agree with Colleen,” said the Reverend.  “This is surely a sign from the Lord that Sully’s turned the corner.  I’m certain that in no time at all, he’ll be back among us again.”

     “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Michaela said, trying to sound cheerful for their sakes.  But she kept remembering Cloud Dancing’s explanation of Sully’s torment—of the fear that had made him retreat so deeply into himself.  Quinine or willow bark tea wouldn’t cure a sickness of the spirit, and she wondered how—or if—he could recover from a broken heart.

     Colleen was speaking to her again, and Michaela turned her attention to her daughter with an effort.

     “Now that Sully’s doin’ better, you’ve got to take some time for yourself, Ma,” Colleen was saying.  “Please go get some breakfast at Grace’s, and then come back here and rest.  I’ll make up one of the recovery rooms for you.”

     “And I’ll remain here with Colleen until you return,” the Reverend promised.  “I can start school a little late today.”

     “You’re both so kind—but I can’t leave now,” Michaela told them.

     “”Why?” Colleen asked, clearly perplexed.

     “If Sully is, indeed, close to regaining consciousness, I need to be here with him when he does,” Michaela explained.

     “I understand how you feel, Ma, but that could be hours from now.  And you know I’d wake you if anythin’ happened.  Please, Ma—you need food, and rest,” Colleen said unhappily, worried for her mother.

     “Perhaps you could bring me something from Grace’s,” Michaela suggested. “I promise to eat it.  And I’ll even rest here in Sully’s room, if you would be so kind as to bring in the cot from the examination room, Reverend?” she added.

     “Of course,” the minister said, immediately exiting through the door.

     “Ma, are you sure?” Colleen persisted.

     Michaela stared into her daughter’s eyes.  “I need to be here, Colleen,” she said quietly,  “When Sully awakens, I want it to be my face that he sees—and my hand holding his that he feels.  I need to do this—for Sully, and for myself.  Can you understand?”

     Colleen nodded.  “’Cause you love him,” she said simply.

     “Yes,” her mother answered, her eyes going back to the precious face on the pillow.  “Because I love him.”

* * * * * * * * * *

     Michaela sat on Sully’s bed, continuing her faithful vigil.  Nearby was a tray containing the remains of the breakfast she had dutifully eaten under Colleen’s watchful eye.  She had even reclined on the cot, allowing her daughter to solicitously tuck her in before going off to clean the instruments in the examination room, as the Reverend and Brian left for the schoolhouse.

     However as soon as she heard her son and the Reverend depart, and the muffled sounds of Colleen beginning her chores, Michaela had thrown off the covers, arising from the cot and reclaiming her spot next to Sully.  She gazed down at him now, one of his hands in hers as the fingertips of her other hand rhythmically stroked his hair.

     “Is it true?” she asked him softly.  “Were Colleen and the Reverend right?  Have you turned a corner at last, Sully?  Are you coming back to me?”

     There was no response—not that she truly expected any.  Sully’s face looked peaceful in repose, but he continued to sleep.

     “You promised me you’d come back for the wedding,” she said to him.  “I know I told you I’d wait two years if I had to—but I’ve changed my mind.  I want to be married on May 20th, Sully—just as we planned.  Just as Cloud Dancing said.  Remember how he received a sign that this was the date we should be joined?  We have to listen to the spirits, Sully.  We can’t ignore their wisdom.  You have to wake up, so we can fulfill the spirits’ prophecy for us.  They said we’d be happy, Sully.  Cloud Dancing promised—and you know he never breaks his promises.

    “Just as you never break yours,” she whispered.  “You promised to marry me on May 20th, Sully, and I’m holding you to it.  Do you hear me?  Nothing is going to keep us from being together.  Not Custer, or his henchmen, or illness—or fear.  Especially not fear.

     “*I will not leave you, Byron Sully!*” she said passionately.  “Don’t you dare leave me!”

     Bereft of her defenses, she wept—her tears falling over his hand that she cradled within her own.

     “Don’ t you leave me,” she repeated brokenly.  Gradually her weeping diminished, and she sat quietly, Sully’s hand resting in her lap, still loosely clasped between hers.  The long minutes passed, and finally her eyelids began to droop.  Eventually, they closed.  Her head fell forward on her chest, and she slept.

     Michaela didn’t know how much time passed as she dozed, sitting upright on the bed.  The craving of her mind and body for rest, blotted out any discomfort she might have felt.  For an unknown time, she blessedly escaped into oblivion.

     Suddenly, however, she came awake, not precisely sure what had roused her.  The clinic was quiet, the streets sounds muffled and remote.  She didn’t even detect a sound from Colleen.  Her ears continued to strain for some noise that might have awakened her, but none was forthcoming.

     Her glance went to Sully’s face, but his eyes remained closed.  There was no change that she could see.

     Sighing inwardly, she wearily brushed the hair back from her face as she continued to clasp Sully’s fingers.  Arching her back, grimacing, she started to release his hand so that she could rise and stretch her aching muscles.

     And then she felt it.  With a shock, she looked down to see Sully’s fingers tightening around her own.  Her heart began to race as she squeezed his hand in return.  She raised her head to look into Sully’s face, and saw his blue eyes staring back at hers.