Saturday, 15 April, 1870

     Their heads snapped up and they all stared at me in shock as I burst into camp.  I stood there breathing hard, trying to get my wind.  Matthew looked at me in alarm.

     “Sully!  What is it?” he said urgently.  “Is it Dr. Mike?  Did you see something?”

     “Yeah—no—I mean, not exactly,” I managed between gulps of air.

     “Clear as mud,” Hank remarked sarcastically, from where he reclined against a large rock.  His usual cigar was pinched between thumb and forefinger.

     I ignored him, fixing my eyes on Brendan.  “I need to talk to you,” I said abruptly.

     “Of course,” he said, still looking somewhat startled.

     “Are there any waterfalls in Red Rock Canyon?” I asked in a rush.

     He looked taken aback at my unexpected question, but recovered himself quickly.  “Uh, yes—several,” he responded after a moment.  “Some plunging hundreds of feet down the bluffs.  But many of them are only transitory.”

     “What does that mean?”

     “Well, they’re created from the seasonal rains pouring out of cracks in the sandstone monoliths,” he explained.  “Along with numerous rock pools, watering holes and a host of streams and creeks.  But many of these waterfalls and other bodies of water dry up as summer comes on,” he added.

     “Well, are there any that are permanent—that are there year-round?” I persisted.

     Again he looked a little disconcerted.  “I believe—there’s one that I know of,” he said slowly.

     “What’s it called?” I asked.

     Brendan shrugged.  “It doesn’t really have a name,” he said.  “But it empties into First Creek Canyon.”

     “Do you got a picture of it in your book?” I said tensely.

     He hesitated.  “Quite possibly,” he allowed.  “But I took a great many pictures of the region, Sully, and I didn’t include all of them for publication.”

     “Well, check in the book anyway!” I demanded.  I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I couldn’t help it.  My eyes were riveted on Brendan as he quickly reached for his saddlebag and opened the flap.  He drew out his book and opened it, leaning in closer to the fire so that the light fell on the pages as he rifled through them.

     Roughly a quarter of the way into the book he stopped.  “Yes!  Here,” he said briefly.  I circled the fire to where he sat.  Kneeling down beside him, I took the volume from his hands and followed his pointing finger to the image sharply etched in light and shadow.  A narrow cascade of water crowned with scattered rocks bisected two immense boulders, emptying into a calm, clear pool.  It was a pretty sight, but only a smaller, paler echo of the waterfall I’d seen.

     I sat back on my heels, crushing disappointment descending on me like a giant weight.  “No, that ain’t it,” I said bleakly.  “It must be one of them ‘transitory’ ones,” I added to myself.

     “What’s all this about?” Hank said, his eyes narrowing, but again I paid him no heed.

     “Sully . . . I know that you dreamed about a waterfall,” Matthew began uneasily.  “But—“

     “Dreamed?” Hank repeated incredulously as he flicked the butt of his cigar away.  I saw the glowing ember describe a spiral in the darkness before it disappeared.  “That’s it,” he stated acidly to no one in particular.  “He’s finally snapped.”

     “Shut up!” Matthew said.  He turned back to me.  “Sully—“

     “I’ve dreamed about the waterfall a lot more times since that night, Matthew,” I told him, as if Hank hadn’t spoken.  “But this time, it was much more than a dream.”

     “What was?” he asked, his wary eyes searching my face.  “What’s happened, Sully?”

     “I know where she is,” I announced, regarding him levelly.

     He bit his lip.  I could tell he was trying hard to give me the benefit of the doubt, but I could also see the misgiving in his eyes.  “How do you know?” he asked carefully.

     “Michaela told me,” I said quietly, again knowing how it sounded, but not caring.  “She sent me a vision.”

     Hank uttered an explosive oath and jumped to his feet.  “He’s crazy!”

     “I told you to shut up!” Matthew snapped at him.

     “Don’t tell me you ain’t thinking the same thing!” Hank retaliated.  “I see the way you look at Sully sometimes, like you’re expecting him to lose what little marbles he’s got left.”

     “That’s uncalled for,” Brendan said coolly.

     “What are *you* defending him for?” Hank replied derisively.  “You got roped into this wild goose chase same as I did.”

     “I didn’t get ‘roped into’ anything,” Brendan contradicted him sharply.  “I volunteered of my own free will.”

     “Just like you, Hank,” Matthew said coldly.

     “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have if I’d known how unhinged he was,” Hank said scornfully, with a derogatory look at me.  “Face it, Matthew—Sully wasn’t that tightly wrapped before he cracked up—and he’s even crazier now than he was then.  This whole godforsaken trip was based on his harebrained idea.”

     “You didn’t think it was so harebrained when you decided to come,” countered Matthew, his eyes hostile.

     “Well, I do now,” Hank maintained stubbornly.  “But a hell of a lot of good it does me, stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.”

     “You want to turn back?” I challenged him.  “Be my guest.”

     “If it weren’t for Michaela, I would,” he retorted.  “It’s a sure bet she ain’t going to get out of this if she has to depend on any of you.”

     “I’ll take care of Michaela,” I said threateningly, my eyes drilling into his and my hands curling into fists at my sides.

     “Like ya done so far?” he taunted.

     I lunged at him and Matthew and Brendan jumped between us.  “Back off—both of you!” Matthew exclaimed, restraining me while Brendan grabbed hold of Hank.  The two of us stared at each other belligerently.

     “Matthew’s right,” Brendan agreed, with a wary eye on Hank.  “We won’t accomplish anything by fighting among ourselves or hurling insults.”

     I took several deeps breaths, trying to calm myself, and then focused my attention on Matthew.  “You agree with him?” I asked bluntly, jerking my head sharply toward Hank.  “You think I’m crazy?”

     “Of course not—“ Matthew said reflexively.

     “—but you got your doubts,” I finished.  I could see guilt warring with loyalty in his expression.
“It’s all right,” I went on more quietly, saving him from having to answer.  “I know how all this sounds.  But I ain’t lost my senses, Matthew, in spite of the way it seems.”  I was silent for a moment, thinking how to phrase my words.  “You remember when you went on your vision quest?” I said finally.  “What you saw—what you went through?”

     Matthew’s expression altered, and I saw a flicker of comprehension in his eyes.  “Yeah,” he said solemnly.

     “Did it seem like it was real?” I went on.

     He nodded slowly.  “It felt real,” he said.

     “I should have known—things ain’t bad enough, and now you’re dragging Injun mumbo-jumbo into this!” Hank said in disgust.

     “Why don’t you be quiet long enough to hear Sully out?” Brendan spoke up.

     “I think you’ve all gone soft,” Hank said flatly.  “Sun must have cooked your brains.”  He twisted away from Brendan and strode over to his horse.  Reaching into his saddle-bag, he withdrew a bottle of whiskey and yanked the cork free.  He took a long pull of the contents, staring at us in contempt.

     I disregarded him, caring only about convincing Matthew that I hadn’t folded under the strain.

     “There’s something else,” I said to him.  He waited.  “Did I ever tell you how I found Michaela when she was taken by the dog soldiers?” I asked.  “What is was that led me to her?”

     “No . . . but Dr. Mike did.”  His tone was respectful.

     “Did you believe her?” I went further, watching him carefully.

    “Yeah,” he answered after a moment.  “I believed her.”  I looked closely into his eyes, and saw he understood.

     “If it’s not too personal,” Brendan ventured.  “May I ask—?”

     I gave him my attention.  “I’ll tell you—but you’ll probably end up agreeing with Hank,” I warned him.  “Besides, you hardly know me.  You got no reason to believe what I say—especially after the bad blood between us.”

     “Why don’t you try me?” Brendan suggested mildly.  “I always try to keep an open mind.  And I usually have good instincts about people.”

     “What are your instincts telling you now?”  I said quietly.

     His clear eyes stared calmly into mine.  “That I want to hear what you have to say.”

* * * * * * * * * *

     I looked at him speculatively.  “Are you saying you’re willing to believe I had a vision just now?” I asked after a pause.  “That’s a lot to take on faith—especially from somebody who’s practically a stranger to you.  Not to mention that it ain’t no secret I had some . . . problems . . . not so long ago.  Problems that might make certain people—“ I glanced pointedly at Hank, then back to Brendan.  “Maybe even most people—question whether I’ve taken permanent leave of my senses.”

     “Well, it’s obvious something happened to you tonight,” Brendan replied, his tone matter-of-fact.  “And I believe I’ve seen enough of the world and its mysteries, that I’m not prepared to dismiss the possibility that you might have received some sort of—communication—which can’t be logically explained.

     “With regard to the ‘problems’ you spoke of, however,” he went on.  “Dr. Mike told me something of what you endured; and quite frankly, I wouldn’t characterize being stricken with amnesia as ‘taking leave of your senses.”

     “Well, it ain’t so much the amnesia, as what brought it on,” I admitted reluctantly.

     “Grief?” he said perceptively.

     “For the most part, yeah,” I conceded.

     “How can any of us know how we’d react if faced by a devastating loss?” he asked reasonably.  “There’s isn’t a right way or a wrong way to grieve, Sully, as far as I know.  I’m certainly no physician, or a specialist in maladies of the mind—“  He smiled slightly.  “I leave all that to my brother.  But I do know this:  there are many kinds of pain—and not all of them are physical.  And it seems to me that blocking out your memories was your way of putting a bandage over your pain—much the way Dr. Mike bandages a wound.  And just as a bandage protects a wound and allows it to heal, your amnesia protected you, allowing you to heal until you were ready to face the pain of your memories again.”

     “That’s—kind,” I managed.

     “I’m gratified you think so,” he responded.  “But I’m simply being honest.  We needn’t pursue the subject any further—I realize that it’s intensely personal and I don’t wish to intrude on your privacy.  I only expressed my opinion so you’d know that I have no intention of letting your recent history prejudice me toward you now.”

     “I’m obliged that you’re willing to give me a fair hearing,” I said.

     “I think everyone deserves that,” he replied.  “But I must confess that you’ve also piqued my curiosity.  I’d like to understand more about your rescue of Dr. Mike after her previous abduction, as well as your experience a short time ago.”

     “Well truth is, I still ain’t sure that you won’t change your mind, after you’ve heard me out,” I allowed.  “But you were willing to trust me this far—to come along on this trip even though it might put you in danger.  I figure the least I owe you is an explanation of what you’ve got yourself into.”

     “I’m listening,” he said.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

     “Well, this should be interestin’,” Hank said complacently, the whiskey apparently having  mellowed—if not necessarily altered—his disposition.  “’Course, I outgrew fairy tales a long time ago,” he scoffed.

     Matthew left Sully’s side and walked up to Hank.  “You know, I’m gettin’ pretty damned tired of all your smart remarks,” he commented sharply.  “No matter what you think of Sully, the fact is that the woman he loves—that he’s gonna marry—is in terrible danger.  He’s scared for her—real scared.  We both are.  Least you could do is remember that and keep a civil tongue in your head.”

     “It’s all right, Matthew,” Sully said calmly.  “I’m obliged for your support, but I can fight my own battles.”

     “Just lettin’ Hank know what I think of him,” Matthew replied to Sully, his gaze fixed on the saloon keeper.  He     spared a fleeting glance for the whiskey bottle in Hank’s hand.  “Gettin’ drunk don’t help matters neither,” he added contempuously.

     Hank stared down at Matthew from the superior height of his lofty frame.  Pinning the young man in his sights he said slowly and deliberately, “I don’t get drunk.”

     “That right, Hank?” Sully spoke again, joining the two men.  “Then how would you describe what happened at Horace and Myra’s engagement party?  You came real close to shootin’ somebody that day—maybe worse.  You gonna claim that you weren’t drunk out of your mind at the time?”

     “And you came close to killin’ me!” Hank retorted hotly.

     “That’s true,” Sully acknowledged.  “And I regret it.  I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.  But somebody had to do somethin’.  You were out of control.”

     “What’s it like bein’ perfect, Sully?” Hank said bitterly.  “Standin’ there in all your self-righteous glory, passin’ judgement on all the rest of us?”

     “I ain’t perfect—as you been takin’ every chance to point out,” Sully responded.  “And it ain’t my way to throw a body’s sins up to him, or judge him for past mistakes.  I just wanted to remind you that we all go through bad times, and do things we regret afterwards.  But I ain’t holdin’ you to blame for somethin’ that’s over and done with, and it ain’t fair for you to do it to me.”

     “Yeah, but I didn’t drag you hundreds of miles on a fool’s errand!” Hank said sharply.

     “And I didn’t threaten to shoot Myra!” Sully retaliated.  “But that was then, and this is now.  Maybe I am on a fool’s errand,” he went on more quietly.  “Maybe I ain’t.  But for what it’s worth—and I know that’s nothin’ far as you’re concerned, but still . . . I don’t believe this trip is a mistake.  I read the signs, best I could, and they pointed to Red Rock.  And tonight, I believe I had a vision from Michaela, leadin’ me to where she is.  If I’m wrong, it’ll be on my head, and somehow I’ll have to live with it.  But fact is, this is all we got to go on.

     “So I’m gonna keep to this path, and follow my instincts wherever they lead me,” he concluded.  “If you don’t want to come any further, that’s your choice.  Nobody’s stoppin’ you from leavin’.  But if you’re willin’ to stay on, I could use your help.”  He met Hank’s eyes squarely.

     The saloon owner was silent for several moments, staring back at Sully, taking his measure.  Finally, with a shake of his head, he set the liquor bottle aside.  “So what’s all this about ‘visions’ anyway?” he said grudgingly.

* * * * * * * * * *

    Sully nodded, satisfied that now everyone, Hank included, seemed willing to listen.  He was
silent for a few moments, thinking about where and how to begin.  Presently he glanced at each of them, and started speaking.

    “Of course Matthew remembers Michaela’s kidnappin’ last year, and most likely Hank recalls it too,” he began.  “And I know that you’re already aware of some of what happened back then,”
he added, addressing the latter part of his remark to Brendan.  The other man looked surprised.

     “That’s true—but how did you know?” he asked.

    Sully suddenly remembered that he’d come by this information when he’d eavesdropped on Michaela and Brendan talking together, and he flushed in embarrassment.  He was fleetingly grateful for the darkness, which largely hid his discomfiture.  He considered admitting his transgression to Brendan—it would certainly be the honorable thing to do—but concluded that being honest at this point would serve no useful purpose.  For one thing, he didn’t want to risk losing Brendan’s respect when the other man seemed so willing to hear him out, despite how unorthodox—even unbelievable—his claims might be.  But far more importantly, there was a much graver issue at hand than the childish act he’d committed in a fit of jealous pique, and none of them needed their attention distracted now from what truly mattered.

    “Michaela told me a little about her talk with you,” he answered finally, hoping that Brendan hadn’t noticed his hesitation or visible discomfort.  Brendan regarded him with a look that was mildly speculative, as if to suggest that he *had* noticed, but had decided not to call Sully on it.  As if he’d reached the same conclusion as Sully—that the present circumstances were far too serious to allow any previous and minor wrongdoing on Sully’s part to interfere.

    “Go on,” was all he said.

     Inwardly relieved, his respect for Brendan’s decency and discretion rising another notch, Sully began to talk, first relating the mysterious bond which had led him to Michaela a year ago, and then describing the startling phenomenon he’d experienced just a short time before.  He tried not to overly magnify the mysticism of each experience, wary of straining Brendan’s and Matthew’s credulity, not to mention incurring more of Hank’s derision.  Nonetheless he wanted to make them understand the certainty he felt inside—that indescribable “something” which told him he was on the right track.

     Eventually Sully finished speaking, and waited for their reactions.  Matthew and Brendan looked thoughtful, and even Hank seemed to be mulling over what he’d heard, rather than dismissing Sully’s words outright.  Matthew was the first to break the short silence.

     “I can understand how real it must have felt to you,” he ventured, referring to Sully’s vision of the waterfall and the hidden cavern.  “But Sully, how can you be sure that Dr. Mike was in that cave that you saw?  You said you didn’t get a chance to see inside, ‘fore the vision ended.”

     “I can’t explain it in any way that makes sense,” Sully readily admitted.  “I don’t got the words for it.  It was just a feelin’.  But a powerful feelin’.  No—more than that.,” he corrected himself.  “ It was a *knowin’*--deep in my gut.  I’m sorry—I can’t put it any better than that.”

     “Was it the same feeling you had during the events a year ago?” Brendan asked.

     Sully nodded.  “Without a doubt.  The only difference is that last time, when Michaela was with the dog soldiers, I could hear her voice.  But this time, it was like she—planted a picture in my mind.  A picture that somehow—for just a few moments—became real.  But the feelin’—the ‘sense’ of her I got each time, was the same.”

    He looked at Brendan candidly.  “So—do you think I’ve gone round the bend, or I’m a few logs short of a load, or whatever?” he asked.

     Brendan shrugged, looking tranquil.  “Well, if I were to accuse you of being crazy, then I’d have to accuse Dr. Mike of being the same,” he said frankly.  “And I’m hardly about to do that.

     “No, Sully—I don’t think you’re crazy,” he concluded.  “I trust your instincts.”

     Sully felt relief wash through him.  Well, that’s one, he thought.  He turned to his stepson.

     “And what about you, Matthew?” he asked.  “How do you feel?”

     “I’m with you, Sully—you know that,” Matthew answered.

     Sully smiled slightly.  “Thanks, I appreciate it.  But bein’ loyal to me and thinkin’ I might have lost my senses ain’t quite the same thing.  You can tell me the truth, Matthew.  I’ll understand.”

     “You ain’t crazy, Sully,” Matthew said honestly.  “I didn’t think so before and I don’t believe it now.  If you’re convinced that this place you saw is where Bloody Knife took Dr. Mike, then I accept that.”

     Sully nodded, touched by Matthew’s trust.  Two on my side, his thoughts came again.  But convincing Matthew and Brendan was relatively easy.  Now came the hard part.   He faced the tall saloon keeper, preparing himself for the worst.  “Well, that just leaves you, Hank.  I ain’t foolish enough to think you’re gonna be as willin’ to go along with all this as the others.  But you got a right to speak your piece.”

     Hank pushed a stray lock of his long, blonde hair behind one ear, then stalled for time a bit longer by sticking a fresh cigar between his teeth and lighting it with a match he pulled from a small box in his breast pocket.  He puffed aggressively on the cigar to get it going, then exhaled an impressive plume of smoke.  Cocking an eyebrow, he regarded Sully levelly.  “Ya know me,” he spoke at last.  “I ain’t much of a one for believin’ in things I can’t touch or see.  I deal in what’s real—it’s how I always lived my life.  And I gotta admit that I’d feel a heap better about these ‘stories’ of yours if I could ask Michaela for her version.”

     “If you could do that, we wouldn’t be here,” Sully pointed out quietly.  Hank looked back at him.

     “Yeah,” he conceded after a pause, his voice and expression subdued.  The toe of one boot scuffed restlessly in the dirt.  Hank was silent for several moments, and Sully could almost sense the struggle between belief and disbelief going on in his mind.   Presently he went on, “I ain’t sayin’ I  accept all this.  Ya gotta admit—it’s a lot to swallow.  Most folks would call it a bunch o’ hogwash,” he added almost defiantly, as if to justify his objections.

     “True,” Sully agreed.  He looked into Hank’s eyes and nodded slightly, beckoning him to continue.

     “But—I’ll say this much,” Hank finally allowed.  “Maybe . . .ya ain’t as out of your head as I thought.”

     “That’s comfortin’,” Sully said wryly.

     “All right—ya ain’t crazy,” Hank capitulated.  “Leastways, not any more than the rest of us, I reckon.  And since that stone and your—‘vision’—“  He grimaced as he spoke the word.  “—are the only clues we got to follow—“

     “You sayin’ you’re stickin’ with us?” Sully interrupted.

     Hank gave him his familiar cocky grin—slightly muted, but as devilish as always.  “Well, somebody’s gotta go along to keep ya’ll out of trouble,” he said.

     “And you figure you’re the one to do that, huh?” Sully replied, feeling a sneaking regard for the rangy saloon owner, in spite of himself.

     Hank shrugged.  “Who else?”

     “Well, whatever the reasons, I’m obliged for the help,” Sully said.  “And now that we got that settled, we need to talk about the next step—figurin’ out exactly where this waterfall is.”

     “Which brings up something I’d been meaning to discuss with you,” Brendan spoke again.  His tone was hesitant.  “I chose not to say anything before now, so as not to add to your burdens.  But I‘m afraid it’s an issue which needs to be addressed before we reach our destination,” he added uncomfortably.

     “I’m listenin’,” Sully said.

     “Well, to put it simply, it’s a question of vast distance, and limited resources,” Brendan began reluctantly.

     “Meanin’ . . .?”

     Brendan sighed.  “Meaning that even though we’ve narrowed the focus of our search to the vicinity of Red Rock Canyon, we’re still talking about a mountainous area that easily encompasses between fifteen and twenty miles,” he explained.  “There are numerous escarpments, mountain peaks and canyons—not to mention the many waterfalls caused by the spring runoff, which I spoke of earlier.  The fact of the matter is that it could take a very long time to cover the entire area, Sully—especially among only four of us.  While I don’t doubt the veracity of your vision, unfortunately it gives us no clue as to the location of this particular waterfall.  And though you described this place to us in impressive detail, I regret that as diligently as I’ve been going over it in my mind, I don’t recognize it,” he concluded unhappily, obviously fearing that he was dashing what little reason for hope that they had.

     Matthew and Hank also looked sober.

     “To be honest,” Matthew said slowly, “I’d kinda been wonderin’ about that myself—more even since we’ve come within sight of Red Rock and I‘ve seen how big it is and how far it stretches.  I didn’t want to cause you more worry either, Sully, but . . .“  His voice trailed off.

     For once Hank was quietly restrained, but his expression made it clear that he agreed with the others.

     “You’re both right—it’s a serious task we got facin’ us,” Sully responded after a moment, his expression equally solemn, but containing none of the defeat that they had feared.  “I ‘spose it almost amounts to lookin’ for a needle in a haystack.  But all I can tell you is what I’ve said since the beginnin’—no matter how far I got to go, or how long it takes me to find this place, I ain’t quittin’.  I can’t.

     “And who knows?” he added after a pause.  “Maybe what I saw before—maybe it ain’t the only vision I’m gonna get.  If Michaela reached me once, she can do it again.  Maybe Michaela’s gonna give us the help we need.”

     Immediately Sully saw a shadow of concern return to Matthew’s face, while skepticism crept back into Hank’s eyes.  Brendan’s expression was neutral, but Sully didn’t need to be a mindreader to guess that he had the same doubts as his companions.

     “You all don’t need to look at me like that,” he said drily.  “I ain’t sayin’ I expect to get more visions from Michaela, and I sure ain’t pinnin’ my hopes on somethin’ like that happenin’ a second time.  I’d give anythin’ to feel her close to me again, but I figure it was a miracle she could reach me at all, and I’m grateful.   And now I’m the one who’s gotta do the work, takin’ the clue she sent me and makin’ the most of it.

     “I’ll do it alone if I got to,” he stated frankly.  “But I’d rather have your help, if I can get it.

     “I guess it all comes down to a matter of trust,” he concluded quietly.  “Me trustin’ my instincts that Michaela’s alive and in this place I saw in my mind—and you all trustin’ in me to get us there.  Question is:  are you willin’?  You come this far—do you trust me enough to go the rest of the way?”