Thursday, 29 March, 1870

Evening

     It seemed like forever till she came around, though it was probably only a matter of minutes.  But finally her eyelids fluttered and opened, and I got a glimpse of her beautiful eyes—cloudy and disoriented at first, but gradually clearing as she focused on my face.

     “That’s it—wake up, Michaela,” I said softly, continuing to gently bath her forehead with the cool compress Colleen had provided.

     “Sully?” she said weakly, looking up at me in confusion.  “What—what happened?”

     “You passed out,” I told her, pressing the compress to her temple.  “Must have been the shock.”

     She nodded vaguely, then suddenly stared at me in panic.  “Colleen?” she exclaimed, rising up from the pillow.

     “Easy, Michaela,” I cautioned, gently restraining her.  “Don’t try to move just yet.”

     “But Colleen—is she all right?” Michaela repeated, agitated.

     “Colleen’s fine,” I said calmly.

     “I’m right here, Ma,” Colleen said, coming up to stand behind me.

     “And Brian--?”

     “The kids are both fine, Michaela—safe and well,” I soothed her.  “But you need to take it easy now.”

     I could feel the rapid pounding of her heart begin to slow beneath my hand, but her body was still rigid with tension.  She studied me anxiously, her eyes moving over every inch of my frame, and I realized she was searching for signs if injury.

     “Sully . . . I didn’t shoot--?” she whispered, unable to voice the entire thought.

     “No!” I said quickly, hastening to reassure her.  “You didn’t shoot me or anyone else.”

     Her eyes closed.  “Thank God.”

     For a moment I thought she’d drifted off.  I reached out to stroke her hair, my fingers shaking in my profound relief  that she was all right.  But suddenly her eyes opened again, and my hand froze, inches from her face.  I just had time to register her cold and distant expression before she spoke.  “Do you have any idea how badly you frightened us?” she said accusingly.  “What were you doing, sneaking around like that?”

     “I wasn’t ‘sneaking,’” I answered, taken aback by her mercurial change of mood.  “I was just—keeping an eye on things, making sure you were all right.”

     “Do I look all right?” she said acidly, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

     “I didn’t mean to scare you, Michaela,” I said.  “But you gave me quite a turn yourself, waving that rifle around.  What if it hadn’t been me outside?  What if it had been somebody really trying to hurt you—somebody armed with a  gun of his own?  You could have been shot, or—or worse.”  A cold, clammy feeling blossomed inside me, spreading icy tentacles throughout my body, as I thought of how easily it could have been Bloody Knife lurking around the homestead, instead of me.

     “Well, what would you have had me do?” she demanded.  “Colleen and I were alone here, without any protection.  You weren’t here, or Matthew.  Even Wolf was gone.”

     “I would have been here—but you sent me away,” I reminded her testily, my tone sharpened by my own tension and anxiety.  She dropped her eyes, choosing to ignore my statement.  More quietly I said, “Michaela, I’m sorry—“

     Her head snapped up. “You should be!” she retorted, her posture rigid and her eyes like ice.  “Why did you come back here, anyway?” she inquired petulantly after a pause.  “I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see you until tomorrow.”

     “I told you—I wanted to make sure you were all right,” I repeated.

     “We would have been just fine if you hadn’t taken it into your head to show up here without warning,” she shot back.

     I took a deep breath, trying to hold onto my temper.  “Michaela, what do you want from me?” I said.  “First you’re mad at me for not being here, then you’re mad at me for coming back   Seems no matter what I do, it’s wrong.  I was only trying to protect you—“

     “So I’m supposed to commend you for you actions?” she said derisively.

     “You’re supposed to understand that I love you and I was just trying to watch out for you!” I burst out.  “Look,” I went on, trying my best to be reasonable.  “I know I scared you, and I’m sorry.  But I had my reasons for doing what I did.”

     “Well, I want to hear them,” Michaela demanded.  “I think that’s the least you owe us, after frightening us half to death.”

     “And I intend to tell you,” I said quietly.  “But—“  I glanced at Colleen, who continued to stand by Michaela’s bedside, her expression pale and strained.  As much as Michaela needed to know about Custer and his scout, I didn’t want to bring up the subject while Colleen was in the room.  One look at her dark, troubled eyes was proof to me that she’d had more than enough scares for one night.

     I met Michaela’s eyes, then looked side-long at Colleen, hoping that Michaela would be able to read my unspoken message.  She followed the direction of my gaze, and a moment later I was relieved to see understanding register in her eyes.

     “Colleen—why don’t you go to bed??” she suggested gently after a moment.  “It’s very late, and you must be exhausted after such a fright.  We’ll be safe now,” she added reassuringly, sensing Colleen’s reluctance.

     “But will you be all right?” Colleen asked uncertainly.

     “She’ll be fine,” I spoke up before Michaela could answer.  “I’ll make sure of that.”  I laid my hand gently on Colleen’s shoulder.  “I’m real sorry I scared you and your ma, Colleen,” I said softly.  “I was just trying to look out for you all, and make sure you were protected.  Unfortunately I was real thoughtless the way I went about it—even though I meant well.”  I held her eyes with mine.

     “I know what happened tonight must have brought back bad memories of when Tom Jennings broke into the homestead,” I went on even more gently.  “I could kick myself for frightening you like that a second time.”

     “You didn’t mean to,” Colleen said faintly.

     “No, I didn’t—but that don’t change the fact that you were upset anyway,” I asserted.  “I promise you I won’t do nothing like that ever again.  But there’s something I want you to remember, Colleen—something I want you to hold onto,” I said.  “You, your ma and Brian are all safe—and I plan on keeping it that way.  I’m going to stay right here and make sure you’re protected.”  Michaela looked at me sharply, but restrained herself from speaking.

    “Are we in danger?” Colleen asked, her voice tremulous.

    “Let’s just say that it makes good sense to be cautious,” I responded mildly after a moment’s hesitation.  “But I don’t want you fretting anymore.

    “I’m staying right here, Colleen,” I repeated softly.  “I ain’t going nowhere.”

     “Promise?” she asked, the strain in her face easing a little at my words.

     “I swear,” I said solemnly.

     “Thank you, Sully!” she said, hugging me gratefully.

    I held her close for a moment, my hand stroking her soft blonde hair.  “Maybe you’d best go on to bed now,” I whispered in her ear after a moment.  “Let your ma and me ‘mend some fences.’”  I gave her a smile.  My heart felt lighter as she mustered a smile in return.

     Colleen moved to her mother’s side and leaned over to give her a kiss.  “’Night, Ma,” she said.  “Promise you’ll call if you need me.”

     “I will—and thank you, Sweetheart,” Michaela responded, squeezing Colleen’s hand.

     “Make sure Ma gets some rest,” Colleen added to me, pausing at the entrance to her room.

     “Count on it,” I told her.  She managed another fragile smile, then vanished behind the curtain.

     By unspoken agreement, Michaela and I waited until we saw the light from Colleen’s lamp go out—then we waited still longer, giving her time to fall asleep.  Finally satisfied that we had privacy, Michaela fixed me with an iron gaze.

     “All right—we’re alone now, with no one to overhear,” she said.  “The fact that you resorted to such elaborate subterfuge to come here tonight, tells me that you must have had a compelling reason for doing so.  I must know what that reason is.

    “The truth, Sully,” she demanded.  “Why did you come back?”

* * * * * * * * * *

     I stared into her eyes, trying to think how to begin.  I knew I had to tell her everything—not only because she deserved an explanation for what I’d just put her through—but so she could protect herself and the children.  “Forewarned was forearmed,” and all that . . .  The thing was, Michaela and Colleen weren’t the only ones who’d had a bad scare tonight.  I was feeling pretty shaky myself.  Each time I replayed the evening’s events in my mind, and pictured Michaela silhouetted in the doorway, aiming that rifle into the darkness . . . or saw the chilling image of her collapsing to the floor . . .the blood seemed to freeze in my veins and I felt like my heart would stop.

     I thought—at least I hoped—that Michaela would be willing to forgive me once she’d heard about Cloud Dancing’s warning.  But I wondered how long we’d have to live in fear of the next dire occurrence taking place.  And even after we got through this latest threat—*if* we got through it, I amended grimly—still our problems wouldn’t be at an end.  Michaela and I had yet to resolve our differences over Brendan.  Michaela liked him—I didn’t.  She wanted him to stay—I couldn’t wait for him to leave.  Seemed like we were at loggerheads.  And right now I didn’t have a clue as to how we’d reconcile our feelings—or even if we could.  Inside me was the gut instinct that as long as Brendan was around, he would remain a bone of contention between us.

     “Sully—I’m waiting,” Michaela reminded me.

     With an effort, I put my thoughts of Brendan Burke aside, and turned to the far more urgent matter before us.  I took a breath and looked her square in the eyes.  “All right, here it is,” I began without preamble.  “I saw Cloud Dancing tonight.  He . . . had some news—about Custer and Bloody Knife.”

     Her eyes were wide and startled, her anger towards me temporarily forgotten at the implication of my statement.

     “You saw Cloud Dancing?” she repeated.  “He risked coming to see you at the clinic?”

     “No, not the clinic,” I answered.  “I saw him in the woods, at my campsite.”

     “But how--?”

     “I never made it to the clinic,” I explained.   “It’s true I was headed there when I left you.  But I didn’t get very far when I realized there wasn’t any need for me to be in town.  I only stayed at the clinic to take care of you.  But with you back at the homestead, I was free to go where I liked.”

     “I’m sorry that staying at the clinic was so odious for you,” Michaela said stiffly.

     I sighed in exasperation.  “That’s plain foolish—and it ain’t what I meant at all, Michaela.  Don’t you know that     wherever you are, that’s where I want to be?  It don’t matter whether we’re at the homestead, or out in the woods, or at the clinic.  I’m just happy to be with you, any time and  any place I can.”

     “Still, you vastly prefer the wilderness, to being in town,” she asserted.

     “Yeah, that’s true,” I admitted.  “But this ain’t news, Michaela.  You know I don’t like being cooped up—you’ve always known that.”

     “Yes, I have,” she agreed.  “And you may consider my concern to be ‘foolish.’  But it makes me wonder, Sully, what will happen when we marry.   If you’ll be able to make the—the transition—to living inside a house, with walls—instead of sleeping out under the stars.  Perhaps you’re not ready to make such a radical change in your life—perhaps you never will be,” she said quietly.

     I looked at her intently.  “This ain’t the first time I’ve been married, and lived inside four walls,” I reminded her.  “Have you forgotten why I built this place?”

     She flushed.  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she said.   “But after Abagail—that is, after she was gone, you turned your back on the homestead and went to live with the Cheyenne.”

     “Yeah—because being with the Cheyenne was what I needed at that time in my life,” I replied.
“But things have changed.  I have different needs now.  I want different things.  Most of all, I want you,” I said.

    “I built another homestead, Michaela—for us.  For our family.  A special place all our own, where we could live, and love each other, and share our lives.  You really think I could put so much of my heart and soul into building a home for us, and then not want to live there?”

    “No, I don’t think that,” she admitted.

    “Good,” I said bluntly.  “Because it ain’t true and never will be.  So how about we put this argument aside, once and for all?  I want to be with you—if you’ll have me—and it don’t matter where or how.  I’d even live in Boston for the rest of my days—if that was the only way we could be together.”  I reached out and cupped her chin in my hand.  “Do you believe me?” I asked softly.

    Her eyes softening slightly, she nodded.  “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.  “I suppose with everything that’s happened, I’m a little—uncertain—about us, and about our future.”

    “There’s a lot that’s uncertain right now, I agree,” I said.  “But only the things that are out of our control, like Custer.  What we got, Michaela—you and me—that’s the one thing you can count on.  I’m always going to love you, and I believe—least I’m hoping—that you feel the same way.”

    “I do,” she said softly.  “Of course I do.  I’ve tried to prove that to you time and again, Sully.  But lately *you’re* the one who seems to be unsure about us.  You persist in being jealous of Brendan, when I’ve told you over and over that you have no reason to be.”

    “Point taken,” I conceded—surprising her, I think, with my candor.  “I’m willing to admit that all the confusion I went through with losing my memory—well, that maybe it shook me up more than I realized, and that it made me more scared of losing you.

    “I ain’t proud of how I behaved,” I confessed.  “I know I embarrassed you, and I’m sorry.  I guess it’s just that . . . I want so much to make you happy, to give you the kind of life you deserve.  But I know that I can never offer you the kind of life that William could—or Brendan.  I suppose deep inside I’m scared that it won’t be enough—and that someday . . . you’ll get tired of struggling, and you’ll want to leave.”

    “Oh, Sully,” she sighed, shaking her head ruefully.  “The things we worry about!  Don’t *you* know that I love my life here—and that the prospect of sharing that life with you is all I want in this world?”

    “That’s what I want to believe,” I answered.

    “Then believe it,” she told me firmly.

    “But even if you’re not drawn to Brendan, he’s still attracted to you,” I pointed out.  “I’m sure of it, Michaela, even if you can’t see it.”

    “Well, I don’t happen to share your opinion,” she said.  “But even if you’re right, Sully, it makes no difference.

    “My heart is with you,” she vowed.  Impulsively she reached out and drew me close to her, pressing her lips to mine.  She kissed me deeply, hungrily, with an abandon she’d never shown before.  I gazed at her with wonder and delight as we finally released each other.

    “Are you convinced?” she whispered, her eyes seductive.

    “You put up one heck of an argument,” I said huskily, dizzy with desire.  I pulled her back into my arms and returned the favor, till we were both breathless.  When I could manage to speak again, I said, “Does this mean we’ve made up?”  I gave her a crooked grin.

    “I would venture to say that’s a safe assumption,” she answered, smiling back.

    But her words reminded me of how our conversation started, and regretfully, I abandoned my teasing manner.

    “Speaking of ‘safe,’ Michaela—“ I began, but she anticipated me.

    “Cloud Dancing!  Of course,” she said in a rush, her eyes shadowed with guilt.  “I didn’t let you finish telling me about him, or what he had to say.”  She covered my hand with hers.  “I’ve been so petty and selfish, Sully.  I’m sorry. ”

    “You ain’t petty, and you ain’t selfish,” I told her softly.  “Or if you are, then I’m guilty of being a lot worse.

    “You don’t owe me any apologies,” I went on.  “We needed to clear the air, Michaela, and I think we done that—or made a good start, anyway.  But Cloud Dancing’s news is what we got to focus on now,” I added soberly.

    “You’re right, of course,” she agreed.  “Please tell me about Cloud Dancing, Sully.  Is he all right?  Is he safe?”

    “He’s well—and safe for the moment,” I told her.  “But Custer’s looking for him.  Cloud Dancing said Custer and his men have been combing the hills for weeks.”

    “Oh, Sully,” she murmured compassionately.  “You must be beside yourself with worry.”

    “I’m concerned  about him, that’s true,” I conceded.  “But I also know that Cloud Dancing can take care of himself.  He’s been shadowing Custer’s men all this time and they’ve never spotted him.”

    “Thank God,” she said fervently.  After a moment she added, “But what about Bloody Knife?  You said before that Cloud Dancing had news of him as well.”

    “Yeah, he did—and I’ll get to that in a minute,” I promised.  “But first, there’s something I got to know, Michaela—and only you can give me the answer.”

    “If I’m able,” she replied helpfully.

    “I need you to remember back to a couple of days after I woke up,” I said.  “You’d come to my room that morning to check on me, and Matthew came to the door to fetch you.  The two of you left for a few minutes, but when you returned, I could tell you were fretting about something.  No—I take that back,” I corrected myself.  “You weren’t just fretting—you were upset.  I tried to get you to tell me what was wrong, but all you’d say was that you had a ‘visitor’ you didn’t want to see.”  I paused momentarily, watching her reaction.  She’d been doing a good job of masking her feelings as she listened to me, but as I mentioned her unwelcome visitor, I saw the expression in her eyes subtly shift, and I knew my instincts had been right.

    “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest,” I said.  “No holding back because you think you’ve got to protect me.”

    She looked extremely uncomfortable, but she didn’t try to argue.  In a way, she’d already given me my answer, but I needed to hear her say it straight out.

    I fixed my eyes on hers.  “Was it Custer who came to the clinic?” I asked.

    After a long pause, she nodded.  I felt a surge of anger flare inside me, and it took everything I had to maintain control.

    “What did he do?” I said darkly.  “Did he try to hurt you?”

    “No—no, he didn’t hurt me . . .” she said haltingly.

    “Did he threaten you?”  I could feel my pulse pounding like a hammer.

    “Sully—“

    “The truth, Michaela—*did he threaten you?*” I repeated, enunciating each word slowly and ominously.

    “Yes,” she whispered finally.

    My hands knotted into fists as the rage exploded within me.

    “I’ll kill him,” I said.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

     “Sully!” Michaela gasped, almost more horrified by the look in his eyes, than by the threat he had made.  No—not threat, she corrected herself, a chill laying icy fingers upon her.  Promise.
“You mustn’t even *think* such a thing, let alone say it,” she added fearfully.

     “Why not?  No less than he deserves,” Sully said grimly.

     “Yes, but is it worth throwing your life away?” Michaela remonstrated.  “Sully, you know that if you—“  She paused, unable to say the word “kill.”  “if you--*harm* him—if you even raise a hand against him—you’ll face a firing squad, or a hanging . . .”

     “Only if they catch me,” he said ominously.  “And I ain’t about to let that happen.”

     Michaela stared at him in astonishment and dismay.  “Sully, I can’t believe I’m hearing you say these things.  Less than six months ago you were court-martialed, and came within a hair’s breadth of being executed—of leaving me forever!  Have you forgotten what happened in Washington?  The agony we all suffered?”  He gave her a bitter look, and she suddenly realized what she’d said.  Instinctively her hand flew to her lips.

     “Oh, Sully, I’m so sorry!” she breathed, appalled at her insensitivity.  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  Of course you had no recollection of that experience—“

     “Not at first, no,” he agreed, some of the menace going out of his eyes and voice.  “But you told me about it, remember?  And bits and pieces are comin’ back to me on their own.  It’s still kinda hazy, but I recall the court martial, and bein’ in prison . . .”  His voice died away and Michaela saw him shiver, as if this was one memory he’d gladly sacrifice.  “And I remember you,” he managed to continue softly after a moment.  “How you fought with all your heart to get me free, and risked your life for my sake . . .”

     “I wouldn’t have had a life, without you,” she whispered, laying her hand against his cheek.  “That’s why this anger—this vendetta—you’re nursing against Custer frightens me so badly.”  Her eyes were stricken.  “Sully, I nearly lost you just weeks ago.  When Cloud Dancing brought you to me—bleeding, burning with fever, your lungs ravaged by pneumonia . . . I was certain you were going to die.  And I felt as if I would die as well.  I can’t—I can’t go through that again.  I can’t lose you—“  She choked over the last words and buried her face in her hands as the tears came.

     A moment later she felt his strong, tapering fingers cupping her face.  Tenderly Sully lifted her chin so that he could see into her eyes.  He gently wiped the moisture from her tear-stained cheeks, then planted chaste, delicate kisses on her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips, where he lingered, his mouth silken against hers.  Passion ignited inside Michaela, growing quickly from smoldering embers to a consuming fire.  Her hands drifted upward and sought his face, then trailed over his temples and twined themselves in his golden-brown locks.  Her eyes slipped shut and she arched her neck as his lips sensuously moved along the line of her jaw and then traveled down to the hollow of her throat.

     “Michaela,” Sully murmured, his voice low and hoarse with the depth of his desire.  As he pressed himself more tightly against her, Michaela could feel his physical reaction to their embrace, and the shy, virginal part of her had a moment of wanting to recoil in embarrassment.  But a deeper, more elemental part of herself—what she supposed they called the “libido”—had other ideas.  Even as a small, barely coherent voice in her mind cried, “Stop!”—Michaela’s body strained to meet his, and she felt would expire if they couldn’t bring their coupling to its ultimate conclusion.   All she wanted was to mold herself to Sully—to become one with him—in heart, mind and body.

     “I love you, Michaela,” Sully whispered in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses along her shoulder and the stretch of her collarbone.  His hands glided up her back, gathering up the gleaming mass of her hair.  He held it aloft, marveling at its glory, then let it stream through his fingers so that it rained down her back like a copper waterfall.  His fingers slid over her shoulders and down her arms; kneading and stroking, setting her nerve endings ablaze.  Then, slowly, delicately, she felt his hands moving over her bodice, stopping just shy of touching her breasts.  His lips nuzzled tantalizingly behind her ear, the sensation driving her pulse to a fever pitch.  He was whispering endearments, but for a moment she couldn’t hear him for the pounding of her heart.  Then his voice, velvet-soft, came to her.

     “I wish—I could show you how much I love you,” he murmured, his breath dizzyingly hot against her skin.

     “You do,” she whispered back  “Every day of our lives.”

     He drew back from her slightly, so that he could see her face.  “I mean—I wish I could show you like this,” he said softly.  He began to ply her with kisses, tenderly pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips, as his fingertips trailed feather-light across the top of her bosom.

     She longed to give herself to him completely, to live solely in the rapture of the moment, with no thought for the consequences.  But finally, the warning voice of reason penetrated the veil of passion that engulfed her.  “Sully,” she said quietly, placing her hand against his chest and gently pushing him away.

     For a moment he looked bewildered, as if he’d been startled out of a trance.  Then his eyes cleared and he gazed at her with remorse.  “I’m sorry,” he said unsteadily.  “I didn’t mean . . . to force myself . . .“  He looked stricken.

     “You didn’t,” Michaela said in a rush, gazing at him compassionately.  “It’s all right, Sully.”   She hesitated, a blush heating her cheeks.  “I—I wanted it as much as you did,” she confessed.

     He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly.  His eyes, darkly blue and mesmerizing, stared into hers.  “I love you so much, Michaela,” he breathed.  “I feel so close to you . . . like I’m already married to you in my heart.  Is it so wrong to want to show you how I feel?  No one would ever have to know . . .” he said wistfully.

     Michaela gazed at him yearningly, wanting to surrender to the temptation of her senses, but compelled to adhere to the rigid code of her upbringing.  “We would know,” she answered gently.

     Sully released her hand and drew a deep, shuddering breath, taking a long moment to collect himself.  “You’re right,” he managed finally.  “Much as I want you, I’d never make you do anythin’ you’d regret.”  He gazed at her intently.  “In my heart, in my soul—you *are* my wife, Michaela—and I don’t need no piece of paper to prove it.

    “But I know you do,” he added.  “And I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you.  So I’ll wait—long as I have to.”  He stood up from the bed.  “Except I think—for a little while at least—I need to put some space between us,” he added with a crooked grin, moving a few steps away.

     “I’m sorry, Sully,” Michaela said guiltily.  “To—to stir you this way, and then not be able to satisfy your needs—“

     “Don’t be sorry!” he interrupted, his eyes burning with love.  “Oh, Michaela, don’t ever be sorry!  What happened between us just now—it was like a preview of somethin’ wonderful—a miracle worth waitin’ for, no matter how long it takes.  And when we do come together at last, Michaela—it will be perfect,” he promised.

     “Do you really believe that?” she whispered hesitantly.  “That I won’t disappoint you?  That I can—fulfill you?”

     “You’re the only woman who can,” he said.  “The only woman who ever will.”

* * * * * * * * * *
 

     Sully took a pinch of chamomile from the canister and sprinkled it into Michaela’s cup; then added a measure of boiling water from the kettle.  After a moment’s hesitation, he took a second cup from its hook and repeated the process.  As he put the kettle aside, he noticed Michaela watching him.

     “I was thinkin’ of what you and Cloud Dancin’ said about chamomile bein’ relaxin’,” he said with a self-conscious grin.  “I figured that maybe if I drank some, it might, uh—“  He cleared his throat.  “it might ‘settle’ things down a bit.”  Even in the muted light of the oil lamps, Michaela could detect the blush that brought a rosy glow to his tanned face.  A dimple flashed and teased at the corner of her mouth as her lips curved into a smile.

     “Remind me, then, NOT to bring any chamomile along on our honeymoon,” she said, her eyes sparkling provocatively.  Sully chuckled as he brought the steaming cups over to her bed.

     “I’ll put it at the top of my list,” he declared, handing her one of the cups.  “Careful—it’s hot,” he cautioned.

     She stared up at him from under the lacy screen of her lashes.  “Yes, it is,” she murmured.

     The rhythm of Sully’s heartbeat became uneven.  He felt his mouth go dry and his hand shook as he placed his own cup on the nightstand.  He lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs Indian-fashion.

     “There’s room for you to sit here,” Michaela offered, indicating the empty portion of the mattress next to her.

     “Thanks—but I think maybe I’d better stay where I am, for now,” he replied, his eyes lingering over her longingly.  “Easier to avoid temptation.”

     Michaela sipped delicately at her tea.  “I believe I understand what you mean,” she said in a rich contralto, her eyes regarding him alluringly over the rim of her cup.

     Sully took a deep breath and then expelled it.  She could see the pulse beating in his throat.

     “You better stop what you’re doin’—or I’ll never be able to keep a clear head,” he managed after a moment.

     “I’m not doing anything,” she protested innocently.

     “Yeah—you are,” Sully contradicted.  “But I guess you can’t help bein’ irresistible,” he added softly, twin flames of desire smoldering in his eyes.

     Michaela shivered under the force of his hot blue gaze.  Her heart and body craved to be with Sully; the compulsion to give in to her need almost overwhelming.   The small portion of her mind that remained rational, marveled at the potency of their attraction; a force so intense that it had the power to blot out everything else.

     But she knew that somehow, they must find a way to suppress their mutual longing.  Social convention didn’t permit them the luxury of capitulating to their desire.  But far more important, the threat of danger posed by Custer and Bloody Knife must take precedence now.

     Reluctantly, but resolutely, she placed her cup aside and looked earnestly into his eyes.

     “Sully, speaking again of Custer . . .” she ventured.

     He grimaced.   “I’d just as soon not.  Just the thought of him turns my stomach.  But—I know we got to,” he said grimly.

     “Sully,” she attempted again, “Please tell me that you didn’t mean what you said before—that you wouldn’t truly try to—to—“

     “Kill him?” Sully finished for her bluntly.  She nodded, her eyes kindling with renewed anxiety as she watched him.  The tension coiled within him was palpable.  Michaela could discern it from the tendons of his neck, which stood out in sharp relief, and in the way a tiny muscle ticked erratically in his jaw.  A sinister chill knifed through her as she observed his eyes assume the ominous cast that had so alarmed her earlier.  For a moment she barely recognized him—his eyes flat and hard, dark as obsidian, his expression cold and without mercy.  After several long seconds Sully spoke again.

     “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, Michaela—“

     Afraid to let him finish the sentence for fear of how it would end, she hastened to interrupt, hoping to somehow diffuse his anger.

     “Sully, I know how upset you are—I understand the rage which must be consuming you.  I feel it as well.  I’ve never felt such—such hatred—for anyone.  But as much as we may despise Custer—we can’t just take the law into our own hands.  It’s not for us to mete out justice, Sully.

     “And there’s something else,” she added, looking soberly into his eyes.  “I can’t believe you could be capable of taking a life—even of someone you hate.”

     He was silent for a moment, chewing on his lower lip in the familiar, nervous gesture she’d come to know so well.  “I know you want to think the best of me—to give me credit for bein’ noble and honorable and all that . . . and I love you for it,” he said quietly.  “But truth is, Michaela, I’m not nearly so fine as you make me out to be.  I’m capable of killin’.  I got it in me, I know that.  And this ain’t the first time I’ve threatened to do it.  Remember Jedidiah Bancroft?”

     “Something else you’ve recalled,” she noted, still amazed at the rapidity with which his memories were returning.  He nodded briefly.

    “Yes, I remember Jedidiah Bancroft—all too well,” she resumed after a pause.  “And I recall how furious you were when he threatened the children.  But even then, Sully, I didn’t truly believe you would actually make good on your threat—I thought it was just your rage at Bancroft talking.  That you only meant to frighten him.”

     “’Fraid you were wrong on that one, Michaela,” he answered gravely.  “I coulda done it.  I wanted to do it.  And fact is, I nearly did.  That night they tried to lynch Robert E.—I came this close to slittin’ that banker’s throat.  And part of me was always sorry I didn’t go through with it.

     “And there’s one thing you’re forgettin’, Michaela,” he went on softly.  “I *have* killed before.”

     “But you were set up—manipulated!” Michaela exclaimed.  “The crime—it wasn’t truly yours.”

     “It was still my finger on the trigger,” he reminded her.

     “Yes—and remember how you suffered?  The guilt and shame you felt afterwards?”

     “The man I killed was innocent—he wasn’t my enemy,” Sully said.  “But Custer’s different.  He’s evil.  He took Cloud Dancin’ hostage and nearly executed him—not once but twice.  The second time all the women, children and old men in Black Kettle’s village nearly died with him.  A few weeks ago, Custer finally succeeded in murderin’ Snowbird and Black Kettle, and most of the Cheyenne—and the ones he didn’t kill he took prisoner.  He used Bloody Knife to try to kill Cloud Dancin’ and me, and now—“  He broke off, getting to his feet and moving restlessly to the window.

     “What is it, Sully?” Michaela asked softly, her gaze following him.  “What *of* Bloody Knife?  You never told me Cloud Dancing’s news.”

     Sully stared out at the night, his face set and grim in profile.  “When Cloud Dancin’ went back to where we left Bloody Knife in the mountains, he was gone.”

     “Well that must mean he’s alive,” Michaela said, attempting to be optimistic.

     He turned slightly to meet her eyes.  “Maybe—maybe not,” he said.  “Custer and his men coulda found the body and buried it.  Custer might have even killed Bloody Knife himself, just to frame Cloud Dancin’ and me.  He’s crazy enough to do it.”

     “But Bloody Knife *could* be alive,” Michaela maintained.

     Sully turned the rest of the way and faced her.  “Yeah,” he said darkly.  “He could be.”

     Terrible knowledge dawned in Michaela’s eyes.  For a moment she felt as if she couldn’t get her breath.  “You think he’s coming here,” she managed at last.  It wasn’t a question.  “That’s why you came back.  That was Cloud Dancing’s warning to you.”  Fear leeched the color from her face as she thought of the children.

     Immediately Sully closed the few feet that separated them.  He hunkered down by her bedside, taking her hands in his.

     “You know I hate to frighten you, or cause you worry,” he said.  ‘But truth is, Michaela, you’re right.  Bloody Knife tried to kill Cloud Dancin’ and me once, at Custer’s biddin’.  But now, he’s got his own reason to seek revenge.  We got the best of him—and he ain’t gonna forget that.  Cloud Dancin’ thinks—“  He hesitated, then went on as carefully as he could manage, “Cloud Dancin’ thinks Bloody Knife might try to take his revenge on us—through hurtin’ you or the kids.

     “But I ain’t gonna let that happen, Michaela,” he vowed passionately, squeezing her hands more tightly.  “I’m gonna keep you safe—and if it means killin’ Bloody Knife or Custer, then I’ll do it—without hesitation.  And without regret,” he said levelly.

     “I’m gonna keep you safe,” he repeated.  “That’s my promise to you, Michaela.”  He released her hands and stood up, then moved over to where the rifle rested against the fireplace.  He picked up the weapon, one hand unconsciously caressing the barrel, as foreboding filled her heart.