Friday, 30 March, 1870

     “He had it coming,” I spat.

     Michaela gaped at me in astonishment.  “Sully, I can’t believe there is anything Brendan could have done which     would warrant such treatment!”  Awkwardly, because of her ankle, she lowered herself to the floor, and bent over him, her brows knitting in concern as she gently examined his eye.

     “You saying you doubt my word?” I demanded of her, feeling angry at him, at her, at the whole damn world.

     “Of course not—you know better than that.  But after what you said last night—how you apologized for your behavior—“

     “And I meant it,” I interjected.

    “I know!” she answered, regarding me with frustration.  “And that’s precisely why I can’t fathom how you could be so penitent one moment, and then turn around the next and raise your fists to a guest—to a friend . . .”

     I couldn’t stop myself.  “YOUR friend.”

     Her eyes darkened, and I could feel her withdraw from me.  “Have it your way.  But Brendan was still my guest.”

     “You didn’t invite him,” I reminded her sharply.  “Your ma dragged him out here.  She engineered this.  She brought him here, hoping he’d come between us, hoping to break us up—“  I stopped as I saw her face pale with shock, then indignation.  “—And maybe she got her wish,” I finished slowly.

     I could sense Michaela struggling to restrain herself—her obligation to treat Brendan the only thing stopping her from losing control completely and lashing out.  And I knew I was driving her to it.  Knew it, and didn’t care.

     No . . . that wasn’t true.  Of course I cared.  I cared too much—that was the whole trouble.  Without warning, it seemed as if everything had shifted . . . turned upside-down . . .  and I was losing my grip—on Michaela, on the threat from Bloody Knife . . . on everything.

     Suddenly, I felt like I was fighting for my life, desperately trying to hold on to the woman I loved—yet instead of helping my case, all I could seem to do was sabotage myself more.

     I stole a glance at Brendan.  He was coming around now, listening to us with avid interest.  More than anything in the world, I didn’t want to be having this conversation with Michaela in front of him.  But like everything else about my life since this whole nightmare began, I didn’t have any choice.

     Choosing not to respond to me immediately (too mad at me to risk it, I figured), Michaela said tersely, “Help me get him up.”

     I stared at her for long moment, and she looked back at me defiantly, her eyes drilling coldly into mine.  Finally, I looked away.

     Hunkering down, I got my arm under Brendan’s shoulder and prepared to lift him.  Michaela moved to support his other side but my hand shot out to restrain her.  “No—you’ll hurt yourself,” I said.  For a moment she looked like she might defy me.  “Please,” I added.  “Just this once, do what I ask.  I can manage.”  After a pause she dropped her hands.  I released my grasp on Brendan and stretched out my hand to her instead.  Again she hesitated, but then she reluctantly took hold of my fingers and I raised her carefully to her feet.  Then I bent down to him again, slung my arm under his and around his back, and pulled him up.  He got dizzy when he stood, and I had to support most of his weight as we half walked, half staggered into the examination room and I hoisted him onto the table.  Michaela followed us inside and immediately began to examine his injury more closely.  He groaned softly as she probed the flesh already starting to bruise and swell around his eye and along his cheekbone

     She picked up an enameled basin and handed it to me.  “Please fill this with cold water,” she said as she took a bottle of what I presumed to be chlorine water from the medicine cabinet.  “After I clean and disinfect this cut, I’ll need to apply a cold compress to take down the swelling.”

     Silently I did as she asked, then brought the bowl back to her.  She took a folded square of cloth from a pile of fresh linen, dampened it with the antiseptic, and began to dab carefully at Brendan’s eye, not looking at me.

     “Michaela—I want to explain.  Can’t we please talk?“  I flashed a quick glance at Brendan.
 “—In private?”

     “Here—cover your eye with this,” Michaela instructed him, soaking a second square of linen in the cold water and pressing it against his eye and temple.  She placed his hand over it to hold it in place.  He still looked groggy, but I had the feeling he wasn’t nearly as bad off as he’d like us to believe.  Belatedly Michaela turned to me, as if only  just noticing I was there.  “I’m sorry, Sully—I would like to oblige you, but thanks to your actions Brendan requires my attention now.”  She turned away from me, then lit a candle, passing it slowly back and forth in front of his face as she peered into his eyes, studying their reaction to the light.  “Any headache or blurred vision?” she asked.

     “No.”

     “What about nausea?”  Again he replied in the negative.

     “Are you still dizzy?” she continued.

     He nodded his head slightly, wincing at the movement.  “A little.”

     “Michaela, I didn’t hurt him that bad.  He just got his bell rung.  He’ll be all right alone for a few minutes.      Please—I need you to hear me out.”

     “How would you know how badly he’s hurt?” she demanded sharply.  “Are you a doctor now?”

     “Of course not—“

     “Well I don’t happen to share your opinion.  I intend to stay with Brendan and observe him until I’m certain he’s not suffering from a concussion or other injury.  If you wish to talk to me, you’ll have to do it here.”

     “Michaela, I’m asking you, please—don’t make me do this.  Not in front of him—“

     “And did you ask Brendan if he minded being hurt before you struck him?” she asked coldly.

     “Oh, come on, Michaela!” I exploded, dangerously close to losing my temper again.  “He’s a grown man—he can defend himself.”

    “I have no doubt of that—when he has warning,” she retorted.  “You, however, saw fit to give him none.”

     “I got angry,” I said evenly, willing myself to keep my composure.  “He provoked me, I told you.  The things he was saying—“

     “What things?” she challenged.

     “Well—what I said about your ma—“

     “He told you that?” she asked quickly.

    I sighed and bit my lip.  “Well no, not in so many words, but—“

    “So all of it was just your jealous imagination working overtime,” she concluded coolly.  “And you were willing to cast aspersions upon my mother to make your case.

    “How could you do that, Sully?” she accused, her expression going from angry to injured.  “After the way she humbled herself—she way she bared her soul to us . . . ”

    I swallowed hard.  “Look, I shouldn’t have spoken in anger like I did about your ma.  I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh.  But she made it clear what her feelings are about me—about us.  And Brendan—“  I shot him a hostile glance.  “Well, he made it real clear to me that he has feelings of his own—about you.” I softened my tone, trying to speak reasonably.  “Is it so hard to believe that your ma might have brought him out here, hoping you’d prefer him to me, hoping you’d make a different choice?”

    “Brendan told us himself that he came out here at the invitation of William Henry Jackson,” Michaela reminded me stubbornly.  “My mother certainly had nothing to do with that.  She simply wanted the security of a traveling companion, and Brendan was kind enough to do her that favor.”

    I sighed again.  “I don’t know what your ma had in mind.  Maybe she’s innocent, like you say.  Or maybe she saw a chance to drive us apart, and she took it.  But whatever your ma’s intentions, Michaela, I’m telling you that as far as Brendan’s concerned, he’s got his own plans for you—and they don’t stop at friendship.”  I stared at her pleadingly, willing her to understand, to believe.  Why couldn’t she see it?  Why couldn’t I convince her?

    She waited several moments before she spoke.  Finally she said quietly, “Sully, have you any idea of how much you’ve humiliated me?  I can barely face Brendan, thanks to you.”

    “Please, Dr. Mike—there’s no need for you to suffer distress on my account,” he spoke up at last. Butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth.  “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

    “Ask him,” I told her.  “Ask him what he said—about you and William—about you and him.  See if he’s got the guts to tell you the truth.”

    Michaela stared at me, her expression still resistant, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  After an uncomfortable pause, she turned to him.  “Is—any of this true?” she asked slowly, hardly able to get the words out.  “Did you express some type of opinion about William and myself, or indicate that you had—feelings—for me?”

    “We talked of William, yes,” Brendan responded.  “Sully pointed out that you refused William’s proposal of marriage because you didn’t love him.  And I agreed,” he added innocently.

    “Well?” she said to me.

    “He’s twisting it around,” I protested.

    “Is that what you said to each other?” she pressed.

    “Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly.  “But what about the rest of it?  He said other things—“

    “Such as?”

    “Ask him,” I repeated stubbornly.

    “I’m asking you.”

    I opened my mouth to repeat what he’d said—about succeeding where his brother had failed.  About how I wasn’t good enough for her.

    I wanted to make her understand how he’d goaded me, hinting that she had feelings for him too, knowing that it would drive me crazy.  I wanted to say all that, but suddenly I knew it was useless.  If she wasn’t willing to take my word, if she couldn’t accept me on faith—then nothing I could say would make any difference.  She either trusted me—or she didn’t.  There was no going half-way.

    “I ain’t going to argue with you anymore,” I announced.  “There’s no point.  I’ve never lied to you, Michaela.  You know that.  If you ain’t willing to believe me now  . . .”

    “I believe you’re telling the truth as you see it,” she conceded after a moment.  “But you’re jealous, Sully—which makes you biased.”

    “I concluded the same thing,” Brendan offered.  “I tried to get Sully to explain why he disliked me so much, but he just became more and more belligerent.”

    “Shut up!” I snapped.

    “Sully!” Michaela gasped.

    “He’s coloring the truth, Michaela, twisting it around to suit his own needs—to cast me in a bad light!   But you just can’t see it, can you?  Or you won’t.  I guess it don’t matter which—it all comes down to the same thing.  He’s put it into your head to believe the worst of me, and there’s nothing I can do.”

    “What I believe, Sully—is that you’d better leave now,” she said slowly.  “I need time to think—and apparently, so do you.”

    I stared at her.  “You know I can’t do that, Michaela.”

    She drew herself up.  “We’re here in town, in broad daylight, surrounded by dozens of people,” she said.  “How could anything possibly happen?”

    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  “I told you how serious the situation was,” I said rapidly.  “You know what’s at stake.  I said I’d protect you, and that ain’t going to change—no matter what else  happens.”

    Brendan looked at me sharply, and then at Michaela.  “What’s Sully talking about?” he asked.  “Are you all right?”

    “Just a moment,” she told him.  She faced me.  “I have to tell Brendan.”

    “It ain’t his business—“

    “It’s his business if he could be caught in the middle,” she contradicted.  “As long as he’s involved with us, he has a right to know.”

    “He’s involved with you,” I said bitterly.

    I’d had enough.  She wasn’t going to see reason—not with him sitting there listening to everything we said and trying to twist my words to his own selfish purpose.

    “Do what you want,” I lashed out, hurling the words at her.  I strode across the room and yanked the door open, leaving it standing wide as I crossed the porch and went out in the street.  Maybe I couldn’t stop her from telling him everything about me, but I didn’t have to stick around while she cut me open, leaving me exposed and defenseless in front of a stranger.  Worse, a rival.

    But when I got out front of the clinic, I found my feet inexorably carrying me around the corner of the building, till I reached the half-open window facing the alley between the clinic and the telegraph.  And for the second time that morning, I became an eavesdropper.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

     Michaela watched him go with mingled relief and regret.  Why did he have to be so jealous?  And why did his episodes of jealousy never fail to bring out the absolute worst in her?

     Of course she believed him.  She knew he’d never lie to her.  But she also knew that Sully was completely incapable of being objective about Brendan.  That had to color his opinions—his perceptions—didn’t it?

     And Sully himself had admitted that Brendan’s claims about what each of them had said had been accurate.  But Sully had also tried to tell her that there had been more to it—much more.  He’d wanted to explain—but she wouldn’t let him.

     She had been terribly hard on Sully—she knew that.  She had humiliated him in front of Brendan.  And yet, the instant he’d walked out, she had been desperately sorry for her cruelty.  It was hard to face such an ugly truth about herself, but Michaela had to admit that in the heat of the moment she had wanted to hurt Sully—to embarrass him, exactly as he’d embarrassed her.

     But Sully hadn’t been blameless in this, a self-righteous voice spoke up in her mind.  He had used violence against Brendan, and she couldn’t just overlook that, could she?  Wouldn’t that be just as wrong as assigning all the blame to Sully for his and Brendan’s conflict?

     But you don’t purposely hurt the ones you love, spoke another voice inside her, sounding suspiciously like Cloud Dancing’s.  Michaela couldn’t recall if the medicine man had ever actually spoken these words to her, but they sounded very much like the thoughts he would express.

     She thought about how just a short time before, Sully had humbled himself before her mother, speaking with his characteristic honesty, conducting himself with honor.  She thought of Sully’s generosity in trying to help her make peace with Elizabeth, despite her mother’s disapproval of their relationship.  She pictured his face and heard his voice as he pledged his heart to her, and remembered the rush of love she’d felt as she listened.

     Michaela thought of all this, and wondered how she could be so riddled with self-doubt.  The questions—or were they actually revelations?—piled up, one upon another.  Despite all her best intentions to sever herself from Elizabeth’s influence, was she still allowing her mother the power to control her life?  Was it possible that Elizabeth’s “touching” confession had actually been part of an elaborate scheme to manipulate Michaela into doing what she wanted?

     Was Brendan here with Elizabeth for a far less innocent reason that they claimed?  Leading to the corollary that, contrary to being unreasonably jealous, Sully had in fact seen the truth—a truth to which she’d blinded herself?  Had Elizabeth, as Sully suggested, seen her chance to drive them apart—and taken it?

     Michaela shook her head.  She didn’t know—not for sure.  But was her mother capable of doing such a thing?  Oh, yes.

    She wondered if this was what Cloud Dancing meant when he talked of calling on the spirits and listening to their wisdom.  Was she experiencing an epiphany now—a gift of wisdom sent by the spirits to help her see clearly and guide her toward the correct path?

     She wanted to think about it further—to examine her feelings and carefully consider the meaning of all this—but she didn’t have the luxury of such contemplation now.  She had more immediate obligations—first, to give Brendan the information he needed to protect himself.

     And then—to ferret out the truth, and learn if she had done Sully a terrible injustice.

     She took a deep breath, assuming what she hoped was a calm, neutral expression, and turned to face the young man sitting on the table.  “How are you feeling?” she asked kindly.

     He attempted a smile that was partially a grimace as his face throbbed.  “Pretty foolish for letting Sully get the drop on me,” he admitted ruefully.

     “I’m truly sorry that he hurt you,” Michaela said apologetically.  “And I’m also sorry for the—assumptions—he made about you.”

     “Dr. Mike, as I said before, you have no reason to apologize,” Brendan replied earnestly.  “You’re innocent in all this.  It’s Sully who obviously has the problem.

     “And not only this one, I fear,” he added.  He studied Michaela keenly.  “Dr. Mike, what did Sully mean before about protecting you?  Has he put you in some kind of danger?”

     “There is some possible danger, yes,” Michaela admitted carefully.  “But not of Sully’s making—at least not deliberately.

     “It’s a long and complicated story,” she went on.  “One that is intensely personal in many ways—for Sully, and for myself . . .  It’s difficult to talk about—however I can’t let you remain in ignorance of the situation when you might also be threatened because of your association with us.”

     “I assure you I don’t fear for myself, and I don’t want you to waste time worrying about me.  But I am concerned for you, Dr. Mike—Michaela,” Brendan said nobly, cleverly slipping in her given name at the end.  Michaela heard and registered the familiarity, but pretended not to take notice.

    “You’re very kind, but I can assure you that I’m well-protected and cared for,” she told him.  “Sully has seen to that.

    “However now I need to explain the situation.  But before I do, I want to make it clear that by far, Sully has suffered the most from this ordeal,” Michaela stated, regarding Brendan levelly.  “I hope you will be able to find it within yourself to feel some sympathy and understanding for him.

     “Sully’s trouble started a few weeks after Washita—but I believe its true origins go back much further . . . “  she began quietly.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Out in the alley, Sully leaned casually against the wall of the clinic, arms folded.  To passing observers, he appeared to innocently be taking the air of a pleasant spring morning.  But in reality his ears were attuned to the sound of Michaela’s voice softly issuing through the open window as she spoke to Brendan in quiet, measured tones.

     Sully wasn’t quite sure why he felt compelled to listen to Michaela tell Brendan the history of the past several weeks.  It could only bring him further humiliation, to hear her reveal his mistakes and his weaknesses to the man competing with him for her affection.  He thought about all that had happened, all he had done, and how much of it could be grist for Brendan to use against him.  Michaela was already halfway convinced that he was a barbarian—dangerous and unpredictable—thanks to her mother’s opinion and his own temper.  It wouldn’t take much effort on Brendan’s part to finish nudging her over the edge into his and Elizabeth’s camp.

     Bitterly considering this dismal state of affairs, Sully resigned himself to hearing the worst—to having the shreds of what was left of his pride and dignity stripped away.  Thus he was at first stunned,  then deeply moved, as he listened to Michaela relate a tale far different from what he’d anticipated.

     It was his story, of course:  his grief over Washita and fear of losing Michaela, his illness, getting shot, the amnesia and now this current threat . . .   It was all there, she left nothing out.  But it was the way she told it . . .  without judging him, and with no hint of blame, her voice filled with gentleness and compassion, and—dare he believe it?--love.

     It was the last thing he’d been expecting.  He’d left her so hurt and angry, certain that he’d all but driven her into Brendan’s arms.  Not to mention causing her to lose whatever respect she’d ever had for him.  And yet, to listen to her now, it was as if all of that—his attack on Brendan, their resultant quarrel—had never happened.

     Somehow, miraculous as it was, she still loved him.  He was at a loss to understand why, after the jealous and spiteful way he’d acted.  He didn’t deserve her love, her loyalty—and most certainly not her forgiveness  The truth of the matter, in fact, was that he’d come dangerously close to throwing all of it away.

 But the love was there.  It was in her voice, her demeanor . . .  Michaela couldn’t know he was listening, but it was     as if the words she spoke to Brendan were actually for his ears instead—that somehow, on some level, she was reaching out, letting him know that her heart still belonged to him.

     Sully continued to listen, tears gathering in his eyes, as he silently gave thanks for this extraordinary woman who had graced his life.

* * * * * * * * * *

     “That’s an astonishing story,” Brendan commented.  “I had no idea that Sully endured a life-threatening experience so recently.  And the memory loss in addition—“

     “It was very hard,” Michaela agreed quietly.

     “He’s obviously had a hard life,” Brendan remarked.  “Losing his family in childhood, then his wife and child, and still later the Indians . . .  I’m truly sorry that he’s suffered so much.  I hope you believe me, Michaela.”  He hesitated.  “Forgive me—I should have asked before.  May I call you “Michaela?’”

     “I think we know each other well enough,” Michaela answered with a small smile.  “And as to whether I believe you—you certainly seem sincere.  But it really doesn’t matter if I believe you, does it?  The person you need to convince is Sully.”

     “Clearly, we got off on the wrong foot—and I regret my part in that,” Brendan confessed.  “But he did seem to resent me from the outset, and just now he assaulted me without provocation.”

     “*Was* it unprovoked, Brendan?” she asked, her eyes penetrating.  “I hope you’ll tell me the truth, even if it reflects poorly on you.  I can respect that—but I cannot condone a lie.”

     The expression in his eyes altered.  It was just a subtle shift, hardly detectable at all, but Michaela saw it.  Saw it, and knew that Sully had told the truth.

     Immediately she wanted to confront Brendan, but managed to restrain herself.  She genuinely wanted to give him a chance to be honest.  He was a good and decent man at heart—she felt that.  She couldn’t hold him entirely to blame if he had allowed himself to be unduly influenced by her mother.  And she couldn’t fault him if he felt affection for her.  But if her assumptions about his motives were correct, then he was destined to be disappointed, on both counts.  She was not going to fall prey to her mother’s machinations.  Much more important, her confusion and uncertainty about Sully was gone—for good.  She loved him, and she was going to spend the rest of her life with him—if he’d still have her.

     “What truly happened, Brendan?” she asked again, softly.

     He looked down at his lap, and she caught a slight flush of—shame?--rising in his face.  A few moments later he raised his eyes to hers, his expression contrite and resigned.

     “I suppose that I *was* guilty of—baiting Sully, somewhat,” he admitted.  “But I did have cause, Michaela.  Sully made no secret of his antagonism toward me, and I confess that I resented his aspersions on my brother.”

     “Sully dislikes being reminded of my relationship with William, that’s true,” Michaela confirmed.  “Though I feel it’s understandable, given the circumstances.  If you were in his place, would you enjoy being reminded of an old rival for your loved one’s affections?”  He shrugged slightly, conceding the point.

     “However in Sully’s case, those feelings of jealousy were complicated and compounded by his bout with amnesia,” she continued.  “Losing his memories of our relationship—and specifically being unable to remember what transpired between William and myself—only exacerbated the uncertainty and inadequacy he was feeling.  I’m afraid that you managed to target Sully’s ‘Achilles’ heel,’ Brendan—the one aspect of our relationship he was incapable of viewing objectively.”

     “It was petty of me to sink to such a level—I acknowledge that,” Brendan replied.  “But I didn’t know what Sully had been through.  Had I known, I wouldn’t have given in to my baser instincts, or resorted to provoking him in that manner.”

     “That’s quite decent of you, considering that Sully was no doubt as hostile as you were—perhaps more,” Michaela remarked.  “However, Brendan, I find myself compelled to ask if your resentment of Sully’s attitude was your only reason for taunting him.

    “This subject is—difficult—for me to broach,” she added.  “But  for the sake of the truth, I have to put the question.  *Was* Sully correct—did you suggest to him that there could be something between us?”  She flushed in her turn, but regarded him unwaveringly.

    He was slow to respond, but presently he said, “Perhaps I did infer that—I might be more successful in winning your affections than William had been.  I know I had no right to give Sully that impression, or make assumptions about your feelings, since no—declarations of any kind had passed between us.  But I—“ he hesitated, as if wondering whether he dared to go on, but finally continued, “I genuinely believed that I’d detected a spark—an attraction—between you and me.  And I thought—or at least I sensed—that you felt it as well.  Was I wrong about that, Michaela?”  Now he was the one regarding her intently.

    “I won’t deny that you are an—attractive and exciting man,” Michaela admitted slowly.  “I appreciate your wit, and I’ve enjoyed our conversations.  But as far as any feelings beyond that . . .  I’m sorry, Brendan, but we could never be anything more than friends.”  He looked away, his eyes shadowed with sharp and sudden disappointment.  “If I unintentionally gave you cause to believe otherwise, I’m deeply sorry,” she added.

    “I want you to know that I’m honored by your admiration,”  she ventured further, wanting to be gentle.  “Perhaps, if we’d met at another time—before I knew Sully . . . But something—call it fate, or the spirits, perhaps even God—brought Sully and me together—and since that time, I’ve never looked back.  I admit there have been diversions along the way—William, for one, and my former fiance, David, who came back after many years and caused some dissension in our relationship.  And of course this latest crisis with Sully’s memory, which meant that in essence, Sully and I had to start all over again.

    “But even though he couldn’t remember what we’d had before, and despite all the obstacles, Sully fell in love with me a second time,” Michaela went on, a note of wonder in her voice.  “That he could develop those feelings for me not once, but twice in his life—confirmed what we’d always known about each other:  that we’re ‘soul mates.’  He calls me his ‘heart-song,’ Brendan—and he is mine,” she said fervently.  “We’re meant to be together—and if for even a moment I questioned that destiny, then I am the one at fault—not Sully.”

    “I confess that I wish I could be the man to put that look in your eyes,” Brendan remarked, his expression regretful, but resolved.

    “Thank you for that,” Michaela said kindly.  “However, I have no doubt that someday, you *will* put that sparkle in a woman’s eyes—a woman who can love you the way you deserved to be loved.”

    He gave her a bittersweet smile.  “I hope so,” he said.  Michaela looked as if she were about to speak again, but then hesitated.  “What is it?” he added.

     “I don’t want you to think me callous or insensitive,” she began reluctantly, “but I need an answer to one more question.”

    “Ask, by all means,” he replied.  “At this point, I don’t think we have any secrets between us.”  He smiled again, a bit more animatedly this time.

    “I suppose not,” she agreed, returning his smile.  “Nonetheless, I thank you for understanding my need to learn the whole truth.”

    “What did you want to know?” he inquired.  She took a breath.

      “Precisely how much, if anything, did my mother have to do with all this?  Please tell me honestly,” she added.

    He looked uncomfortable, but recognized that there was no going back now—she would accept nothing but the complete, unvarnished truth.

    “Well, she praised you very highly, as I told you when we met,” he began slowly.

    “Yes—and . . .?”  Michaela urged, knowing there was more.

    “And . . .  she indicated that you deserved a man who could offer you the life to which you’d always been accustomed,” he went on.

    “I see.  And did she have any—‘candidates’—for this position?” Michaela inquired wryly.  He looked even more embarrassed.

    “Well, she may have suggested that we would be—compatible,” he admitted.

    “As I suspected,” Michaela sighed, more resigned than angry.

    “I must say, Michaela, that I don’t feel comfortable about betraying Mrs. Quinn’s confidence,” Brendan confided.

    “It’s all right,” she told him.  “My mother and I have already had this discussion.  I am well aware of her opinions regarding my—romantic life—as well as her bias against Sully and the danger she believes he represents.”

    “No parent wants to think of his or her child in jeopardy,” Brendan pointed out.

    “No, of course not,” she agreed.  “But I’ve more than reached the age where I must make my own decisions, and lead my own life.  I need my mother to respect my autonomy and independence.”

    “You’re certainly justified in that desire,” Brendan concurred.  “But I need to be honest and tell you, Michaela, that I also sympathize with your mother’s feelings in this matter.  Sully may have been an innocent victim of this renegade Indian—but the fact is that as long as he remains in danger, he puts you and your children in danger as well.”

    Michaela gazed at him for a moment, then grasped her father’s cane and moved slowly toward the window facing the telegraph office.  A stretch of seconds passed as she stood staring out at the placid scene.  Finally she turned back to Brendan.

    “I suppose it *should* be that cut and dried,” she said quietly.  “But it’s not.  It’s not nearly so simple.

    “What you’ve learned of Sully and myself from my mother—or even what you’ve observed first-hand—is only a tiny fraction of what Sully and I are all about,” she said.  “When you and my mother look at Sully, you see danger.  But when I look at him, I see the man who would lay down his life for me or the children, without hesitation.  I see the man who literally did save my physical life more than once—and who has saved me emotionally in ways too numerous to count.”

    Brendan listened to her respectfully, noting the passion in her eyes as she spoke the name of the man she loved, and envying Sully more than he could ever have imaginable possible.  He was fleetingly grateful that Michaela couldn’t read his thoughts—that she was unconscious of the feelings she still inspired in him.

    “When an influenza epidemic struck Colorado Springs—an event beyond anyone’s control—I used up all my quinine treating the townspeople, so that when I fell ill with the disease, there was nothing left to give me,” she explained.  “I would have died, if Sully hadn’t taken me to his blood brother Cloud Dancing, the Cheyenne medicine man, who gave me the fever tea that saved my life.

    “A year or so later, I was abducted by dog soldiers,” she went on.  “When I was taken, Sully came after me.  For days he searched tirelessly, forgoing food and sleep, refusing to give up.  He wouldn’t rest until he’d managed to rescue me and bring me home safely.

    “And that was a danger I brought upon myself, when I betrayed the dog soldiers to General Custer,” she stated, her eyes somber.  “Sully warned me not to say anything—implored me, in fact—knowing the deadly repercussions that could result.  But I didn’t listen.  I’d witnessed the dog soldiers murder two army soldiers, and I couldn’t remain silent.  As a consequence, not only did my recklessness  imperil my own life, but Cloud Dancing’s son was murdered by the leader of the dog soldiers, and Cloud Dancing and his village were taken captive and nearly executed by Custer—all because of the events I set into motion.”

    “But you couldn’t have known those things would happen,” Brendan interjected earnestly.  “You were simply following your conscience. You did the right thing, Michaela.  No one can blame you for that.  Nor should you blame yourself.”

    “Perhaps it was the right thing—but in this case, telling the truth did far more harm than good,” Michaela maintained.  “Many innocent people paid for my mistake—Cloud Dancing and his wife Snowbird most if all.

    “And yet, never once did Cloud Dancing—or Sully—reproach me,” she said softly.  “I put their lives at risk and brought them pain, but they still forgave me.”

    “Because they knew that you were in just as much pain,” he said.

    “But don’t you see?” Michaela said passionately.  “If they could understand and forgive the danger I brought down upon them, the sorrow I caused them, how can I possibly condemn them—condemn Sully—for the danger we’re in now?”  She paused, blinking back the tears that threatened to flow.

    “I love Sully, Brendan,” she resumed poignantly.  “I need him.  If I were to lose him, I . . . I wouldn’t want to live.”

    “Michaela—“ he murmured worriedly.

    “Oh, I don’t mean I’d do something desperate,” she amended hastily.  “I’d continue to breathe—and walk and talk and do my job.  Somehow, I’d find a way to function, for the children’s sake.  But I’d be empty, dead inside. Sully is a part of me, Brendan.  The best part.  When I fell in love with him, I gave my heart and soul into his keeping.

    “Can you understand that set against all that, the prospect of ‘danger’ loses all meaning?   I can’t give up Sully—it would be like giving up a piece of myself.”

    Her voice died away, and Brendan sat in thoughtful silence.  Finally he said, “I truly envy you, Michaela.  I envy you both.  I suppose . . . there’s nothing else to be said.”

    “Actually, there *is* one more thing,” she told him.  “My mother knows about Sully’s recent crisis, and how he was attacked by Bloody Knife.  But I haven’t told her that this Indian could still be a threat, and I would be grateful if you would keep my confidence.  If I can persuade her to return to Boston as soon as possible, there’s no reason she should ever have to know.  There’s no point in her remaining here any longer, and Sully has more than enough stress, without having to worry about her safety as well as ours.

    “And I think—that when my mother leaves, you should go with her,” Michaela added slowly.   “First and foremost, it would ease my mind to know that both of you are safely away and out of danger.  But also, given the enmity between you and Sully, perhaps it would be—easier—for everyone,” she said gently.

    “If you insist, I’ll respect your wishes,” Brendan answered after a pause.  “And I suppose it would be for the best.  But I can’t say that it will be easy to leave, or that I won’t worry about you.”

    “I truly will be all right,” she promised him.  “Sully and I will both be all right, as long as we’re together.”

    He appraised her admiringly.  “I believe you will be,” he said.

    “May I ask one more favor of you?” Michaela said.

    “Anything.”

    “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a while—that is, if you’re feeling better,” she added.

    “I am,” he confirmed.  “Shiner notwithstanding.”  He grinned at her crookedly, eliciting another smile from her.

    “Well it’s definitely colorful, but fortunately not serious,” she assured him.  “It will probably be tender for a day or two, but there’s no sign of concussion.”

    “That’s a relief,” he replied.  “But getting back to the issue at hand—are you sure you’ll be all right if I leave?  Sully didn’t want you to be alone.”

    “I’ll be fine,” she repeated.  “Knowing Sully, he hasn’t gone far, even if he’s angry.  It’s just that right now, I need to be by myself, to sort things out.”

    Brendan nodded.  “I understand.”  He got up from the examination table, and took a few steps to the door, still standing open from Sully’s exit.  He paused on the threshold, then impulsively returned to her and bent to kiss her cheek.  “Sully is a lucky man,” he said.  A moment later, he was gone.

    “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Brendan,” Michaela spoke aloud into the silence of the empty room.  “I’m the lucky one.”  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “That is—if I haven’t driven Sully away forever . . .”