SIX
Sully awoke with the first twittering of the birds. The moonlight now blended with pale streaks of dawn brushed across the sky. He lay quietly for a while, savoring the fresh chill of the air, the beauty of the fading night, and once again the sheer joy of awaking to find Michaela besides him. Would the wonder of it ever fade for him? He doubted it.
He knew she was likely to sleep until the sun was well up. No reason to hurry. Reaching the peak was not of itself the point of this excursion. The point was simply to get Michaela and him away by themselves for the first time since their honeymoon. Most newlyweds had months, some longer, to relish life together�alone�before the advent of others into their family unit. He and Michaela had had two short weeks.
Not that he had any regrets. Never! But he could not deny that he often longed for time alone with his wife, for meals where they could focus on each other only, for conversations where they could abandon concern over younger ears, for kisses that were not interrupted�ah! they had already enjoyed some of those! Yes, now they had that time. He had arranged it for them, and he wanted them to make the most of every moment.
At least that is what he hoped for. He had to admit to a tightness in the pit of his gut yesterday when they started hiking. He could tell she was still irritated with him. Her body language spoke of it with almost every step as she trotted relentlessly along ahead of him. He had been concerned that she would overdo it, just as she had done, but he knew there was no point in trying to dissuade her. So he had kept his silence, but his eyes had seldom strayed from her determined form. He had recognized the signs of her imminent collapse just before she did.
He stretched in a leisurely fashion and brought an arm from beneath the blanket to test the air. Decidedly chilly. He smiled. He liked mornings like this. They filled him with vigor, even strength. It would be well if Michaela slept until the rising sun had dispersed some of the chill. But not him.
Rising before her was nothing new, and he had ample practice in slipping out without disturbing her. Taking care to keep the blanket closely around her, he rolled out the other side. Pulling on his buckskins and picking up his boots and socks, he surveyed the camp site. There seemed to be no evidence of night visitors. The mule stood relaxed and still sleeping at the edge of the woods.
He tiptoed away from the sleeping Michaela before pulling on his socks and boots. Then he turned from the camp and strode a few yards across the meadow, stopping at a spot where he had a clear view of the mountain ahead of them. It was bathed by the morning light in soft hues of pink and gray. His only regret was that the mountain was at that moment blocking his view of the moon setting in the west. There was something about a full moon on the morning after that he found unequaled by any other sight in nature.
Bare chest braced against the chill, he contemplated the mountain in all its majesty and reviewed his plans and expectations for the day. An hour later, the fragrance of bacon and biscuits awakened Michaela.
Over breakfast, he said, �Great idea Grace had, givin� us the biscuit makin�s all mixed up so as we could just add water to �em.�
Michaela agreed. She couldn�t make biscuits this good even with a recipe book in front of her, and here Grace could make them across the distance of half a mountain!
Breaking open another biscuit, Sully said, �Ya think you�ll be able to find Sam�s grave okay after all this time?� �
I hope so! You�re right, it has been a long time�more than two years. I remember it was somewhere after the terrain became more rocky.�
Sully said, �Rocky�s what it�s gonna become all right! Did ya know the Cheyenne don�t really have a word for mountain?�
�They don�t?�
�No. They speak of these particular ones as Ho�honaa�e Tse�amoo�ese, which in our exact words just means, �rock where it lies along.� �
�Was it hard to learn Cheyenne?� she wanted to know.
He grunted assent and nodded, swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. �I think any language must be hard to catch onto at first. All the sounds seem terrible strange. Ya can�t find a way to wrap your tongue around �em, and ya can�t say a thing you wanna say! But that�s the very thing that makes you learn it in the end�the need to say what you gotta say to those around you.�
�I still remember how you taught me my first Cheyenne word�hahoo�there in Black Kettle�s camp when Brian was lost.� They glanced at each other across their coffee cups. It was the first time they had ever spoken of that night, of those very first hours they spent together alone. What a myriad of unfamiliar emotions had been roiling around within as they tried to catch some rest before the search began at dawn!
He opened his mouth to say something�then closed it. Instead, he reached for her, drew her mouth to his, and kissed her.
�Hmmm,� he said, �warm coffee kisses! I could make a habit of this.�
They hiked at a casual pace through what remained of the morning. The winding trail became continually steeper and the air thinner. Sully watched Michaela for signs of exhaustion, heat or otherwise, but she seemed fine. Before starting out, he had insisted they both drink plenty from the creek. Add to that a night�s rest, cooler temperatures, and a less driven pace, and she seemed like the Michaela he knew of old who had made much of the climb on her own in search of her friend Sam Lindsay.
They lunched again beside the creek, now considerably diminished from what it had been at their location the previous evening. �Better clean up pretty good,� he suggested. �Hard to tell how much water we�ll have after this.�
�You mean, we might have water problems?� �Oh, I�m sure there�ll be enough to drink, accept at the top, but maybe not much for cleanin� up and all.�
Shortly after lunch, he seized her arm and halted her. Looking where he pointed, she spotted a doe with twin fawns, grazing off to their right. They froze in silence and watched in awe, grateful that the doe had not heard them. The deer were facing up the mountain away from them, and they continued to graze peacefully, drifting further and further away.
When they finally wandered out of sight beyond a clump of elderberry bushes, Sully and Michaela looked at each other and grinned. With warm satisfaction he smiled to himself as well. This was just the kind of together experiences they needed to be filling their memories with so that when they returned home to the busyness of their lives�but he was not ready to think about that yet.
Not long after, Michaela stopped and stood studying the trail ahead. He watched her expectantly. �I think . . . I think we�re getting near to where I found Sam.�
She was right. Ten minutes later, just off the trail, they came upon the grave of Sam Lindsay. They stood in respectful silence remembering the unusual lady who had touched their lives so briefly but so profoundly.
Sully said softly, �I can hardly believe you dug a grave and buried her all by yourself.�
�It wasn�t easy, and it took me a long time,� she admitted.
After a moment, she looked up at him and smiled. �You know, one of my favorite memories of Sam was her saying that watching you and me together was like watching a fire burn. I assumed I knew what she meant, but I realize now I understood only a fraction of it.� She reached up and drew his mouth down to hers.
She found a few spring flowers to gather and lay on the mound of earth and rocks. Then she turned to Sully and slipped into his embrace, and he understood that she needed a few minutes of holdin� before they set out again.
Meadows were behind and below them now, so Sully scouted out a wide ledge on which to set up their camp that night. The wind was much stronger at this altitude. The rock wall on the north face of the ledge would provide them a measure of protection from it. He gathered several armloads of brush which he piled at one end of what would be their bed, hoping it would provide them with an additional wind break. He found a bit of dried grasses from the previous summer to place under their bedding, but it was not a great deal.
In anticipation that there would be fewer trees and less substantive firewood at this altitude, Sully had added some sizable pieces to the mule�s load that morning. In exchange, they had been happy to relieve the creature of their buckskin coats. The temperatures were definitely crisp this high up, and except when climbing in full sunshine, they needed the coats.
At Robert E�s suggestion, Sully had also brought along a bag of oats for the mule. He was glad now he had because vegetation for grazing was becoming sparse.
This time their supper would be a pheasant Sully had snared during their lunch break. Michaela was intrigued with the feathers and asked for some to decorate a hat. He smiled indulgently and told her to choose anything she wanted.
The fire was especially welcome that evening, and the roast pheasant delicious, accompanied by another batch of Grace�s biscuits. They calculated they still had enough �makings� for two more batches.
As their meal drew to a close, Michaela became very quiet. Sully watched her, curious. Finally, when she had finished her coffee, she set the cup down and came closer to him. �Sully?� Her voice wasn�t quite steady. �Sully, I have another one of those unanswered questions for you. But for this one, I need to be sitting as close to you as possible.�
He watched with mounting puzzlement as she took his plate, set it down, then pushed his knees apart to make room for her to sit between them, her back to him. Then she drew his arms tightly around her and leaned her head back against him..
But she still said nothing. He could feel a tension in her and couldn�t imagine what she might have on her mind. By way of gentle encouragement, he nuzzled her neck and kissed it lingeringly. Finally, she raised her head, gazed hard into the fire, and said softly,
�You never answered my long-ago question about whether . . . you were . . . with anyone . . . between Abigail and me.�
SEVEN
He was silent so long, she was sure he had taken offense. Just as she began shrinking deeper into the sanctuary of his arms, she felt him reach around her, take her by the shoulders, and turn her face to look at him.
Her fears dissolved in the glow of tenderness on his face.
Before speaking, he helped her shift to a more comfortable position, still in the circle of his body, but so that she could see his face.
�Look at me,� he commanded gently. �Look right into my eyes.� She did. �Didn�t you ever figured out why I didn�t answer your question that night?�
She could not hold his gaze. �Michaela!� He framed her face in his hands and made her meet his eyes again. �Think about it,� he urged. �How were you feeling?�
�I was . . .I was . . . upset,� she acknowledged.
�Ha! That�s a nice way to put it! You were plenty upset! Now think about it . . . What woulda happened if I�da told you there�d been others?�
She flinched. �I . . . I would have been so angry, I probably would have said I never wanted to see you again�and that�s why you wouldn�t tell me, isn�t it?� she flung at him. She tried to turn her head away, but he wouldn�t let her.
�And what if I�da told you there hadn�t been any one?� His eyes burned into hers and compelled her to meet his gaze straight on.
She blinked once, twice, and he waited her out. Then she said in a small voice, �I wouldn�t have believed you.�
�Ya see!� He released her face in triumph and sat back. �Now do ya see why there was no way I could answer your question? You were thinkin� what ya wanted to think, and no matter what I said, it wouldn�t have made anything better!�
�But you kissed her!�
�OH!!� With a sound of deepest frustration, Sully flung himself away from her and stood up. �Don�t tell me we�re gonna go through all that again!!�
For a long time she stared into the fire, reflecting, saying nothing, while he watched her from several paces away. Then she rose slowly to her feet and faced him but left the distance between them.
�No, Sully. I�m sorry. We did lay that to rest before we were married. You said you never meant to hurt me, and I said I forgave you. And I did! It�s just that . . . that we never did talk about that question, and I have to admit it comes back to bother me. The . . . the anger in your eyes when you spat out those words, �No, you don�t!��well, I . . . I�ve never been able to forget it. I . . . I�m sorry.�
The space between them was only three steps, but it felt like a chasm. Each longed to close it, but neither was sure if the other felt the same. In the end, they moved at the same moment, and in an instant they were clinging to each other, both shaken and shaking.
His arms were so tight around her, she could scarcely breathe. She whispered in an unsteady voice, �I�m sorry, Sully! I shouldn�t have asked.�
He drew back to look at her without releasing his embrace. �No!� he declared, shaking his head. �It�s good you asked if it�s been botherin� you. You have a right to know.� His lips closed on hers then, and their kiss was an intense ceremony of healing love.
When they felt able to be separate from each other again, they drew apart and laughed shakily, she through tears. He wiped them with a caress of his thumb.
�Come, let�s go for a little walk,� he suggested. He caught the surprise in her eyes, then saw her glance around at the uncertain terrain. �Just before we got here,� he went on, �I noticed a clearing where we could have a view back down the mountain.�
She nodded, then smoothed at her clothing as if to erase affects of the emotional turmoil she had just come through. �Let me fix my hair.� It had been piled on her head all day but was now decidedly shaggy.
He pushed a loose strand from her cheek. �How about you lettin� it down?�
While she worked with her hair, he rinsed their dishes in the stream (they had left the china ones at the lean-to) and banked the fire. Before they set out, he took two of the blankets, rolled them together, and tucked them under one arm. With the other, he drew her to his side and they found their way back to the small overlook he had noticed.
�Oh, Sully! It�s breathtaking!� she said, gathering her shawl tightly around her. And it was. The world below them stretched down and away in varying shades of shadowy green and gray. He spread the blankets and helped her sit down. Instead of sitting beside her, however, he took his place behind her, produced her hair brush, and began stroking it through her hair. She looked back in surprise. �Where did you get that? I was just��
�You were just usin� it, I know! And when ya set it down, I slipped by and picked it up!� He raised his brows mischievously, and she smiled, turned around again, and left him to his brushing.
After a while, she insisted it was her turn to brush his.
�I love doing things with your hair, you know. I�ve been wondering, when did you grow it this long?�
�Aw, I dunno.� �Did you have it this long when . . . when you were married to Abigail?�
�Not this long, no. That came more when I was livin� with the Cheyenne. But I haven�t had it short since I was a kid.�
After a few moments, he reached around, seized her wrist, and swung her into a tumble around him�into his arms and the space between his legs. When their laughter subsided, he helped her get comfortable as they had been earlier, with her back tight against him, his arms around her. They needed the nearness against the night air, but their hearts needed it, too. He nuzzled her neck a few moments through her hair, then rested his chin on her shoulder.
Daylight was fading around them. The valley below was dissolving into dusk. After a few moments he asked, �Now are you ready to hear the answer to your question?�
He felt her grow instantly still. Finally, she nodded slowly. Very quietly, he said, �Between the time Abigail died . . . and the time I married you . . . ��she knew she was holding her breath but couldn�t help it� �I was never with any other woman.�
She was still as death for so long, he began to wonder. Then he felt her breath go out of her in a long sigh. Finally, she said, just above a whisper, �That�s the truth?�
�Wouldn�t say it if it weren�t! I was so tore up about Abigail, for the longest time I couldn�t even bear to think about . . . anything like that. Remember, I told ya I even felt guilty after kissin� you the first time. Besides . . .� He paused, and she waited, but he did not go on. She decided that if he had other reasons, he didn�t feel like talking about them. That was all right with her. She knew all she needed to know.
Suddenly he pointed to the east! She hadn�t noticed the burgeoning light in one area of the horizon, but he had been watching for it. Now an edge of the moon slipped into view. In awed silence they watched as it grew, creamy and enormous. In slow and stately majesty, it took command of the night. Liquid silver light spread across the mountain and settled lazily over the valley below them.
In the chill air they huddled closer and thought about this same moon brightening the night around their homestead somewhere in that valley. Suddenly Michaela felt an aching pang for her baby. She ought to be rocking Katie and tucking her into bed! A moment later, she felt a dear, familiar hand begin to move in most intimate and suggestive ways on her body�and she quickly assured herself that Katie was in good hands. In one slow, fluid motion, they twisted until their lips could meet, and they began in earnest to assuage the hunger that had been simmering in them over the last couple of hours.
When they stretched out on the blanket together, he studied her face in the moonlight. There would be no undoing of buttons tonight; it was too cold. But they both knew that would not matter. Even before beginning, they knew their loving would have about it an intensity and an abandon that would leave them spent and breathless. And they could hardly wait.
But he had one thing he wanted to say first. �This is what I wanted to do last night in the moonlight.�
She glanced beyond him at the sky, breathed deeply of the beauty of the night, and knew she would never forget her first time to love her husband in the moonlight.
It wasn�t long before the cold drove them back to their camp site. They quickly retrieved the remaining blankets from beside the drowsy mule, made up their bed (this time with two blankets for cover), and cuddled together, talking companionably until they fell asleep. Tomorrow they would reach the peak.
EIGHT
When they awoke the next morning, it was so cold that neither of them could bear to get out from beneath the blankets. Sully reminded Michaela that they were in no hurry, under no schedule. They could lie in bed and be lazy half the day if they wanted! She doubted the rock ledge beneath her would be comfortable that long, but it was decidedly pleasant not to have roll out the first minute, especially with the foggy chill that enveloped them.
Not surprisingly, some of her first thoughts were of Katie, and their conversation drifted to their hopes and dreams for her. They talked of the challenges to be faced in the years ahead with Brian. They spoke of Colleen and Matthew and the entirely different challenges they were already facing of relating to them now as adults.
An hour later, calls of nature forced them to confront the morning chill. Once out of their warm nest, they were ready to face the day. She was glad now for her wool dress as well as her coat.
Sully�s plan was to leave the mule along with most of their equipment at this camp site. They would return to it later in the day after reaching the peak. At first she had objected to his plan not to spend a night at the peak (�What a waste�to go that far and then turn around and leave!�), but she was beginning to recognize his wisdom. The wind and the cold at this altitude were enough. She would be glad to return here tonight.
The morning fog that had shrouded the mountain was lifting. As they sipped their coffee, they could begin to make out other peaks running toward the south. Sully said, �Cloud Dancing taught me a new word recently�tseota�tavo�omeno.�
�I won�t try to repeat that one! What does it mean?�
�It ain�t always easy to change words from one language into another. Sometimes the ideas just don�t carry over the same. But tseota�tavo�omeno says something like �that which is - blue-region-place.� �
�Like the mountains on a morning like this?�
�I wouldn�t be surprised. By the way, Michaela, do you realize the Cheyenne alphabet has only fourteen letters?��
�Is that true?�
�Yup, and only three vowels�a, e, and o.�
�Languages are amazing, aren�t they, the way they�re all so different. Yet they seem to have all the sounds and words they need.�
By the time they were ready to set out, the fog was breaking up. The mule was securely tied with oats and water within reach. The blankets were folded against the rock wall with their cooking equipment and pieces of remaining firewood placed on top to discourage them from becoming prey to the wind. Canteens went with them for lunch, along with leftover biscuits and pheasant.
They stood one more time at their overlook from the night before, thinking of their home and family in the valley below, remembering the magnificence of the moonlight and the warm glow of their hearts and bodies in beautiful union. They would not forget this place.
Now the trail was steep. Michaela was loath to admit how much she tired during the final climb. Sully was keenly aware of her labored breathing as the altitude increased, but he wisely said nothing and simply kept their pace moderate. It was early afternoon when they reached the peak, a broad expanse stretching in several directions. The wind at midday was not as bad as they had anticipated, and the sun played tag with fluffy clouds.
They stood in utter stillness gazing at the view, an even wider vista than they had had from their camp site further down. Michaela could feel how moved Sully was. She slipped quietly into the circle of his arm, wrapped both hers around his middle, and laid her head on his breast.
After while he said, �I don�t know what it is about the land�why it has such a hold on me.�
�Before I knew you, Sully, and especially living in a place like Boston, I never gave the land much thought. But living out here . . . it�s not just that we can see how it provides us with our life and sustenance, but we�re so much more connected to it than in a city.�
His arm tightened in silent appreciation of her understanding.
They found a clustering of boulders, which would provide some refuge from the wind, and settled down to eat their lunch. Afterwards, he urged her to lean back against one of them, close her eyes, and rest. Both could feel the difference in the thin air at the peak, and she welcomed his suggestion. She heard him rustling around in his bag but paid no attention until his voice broke in�
�The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile��
She sat bolt upright and stared at him.
In his hand was a book, her book, her Ralph Waldo Emerson book! She put out her hand for it, but he snatched it just out of reach, a triumphant and roguish grin on his face.
�What are you doing with that?� �I remembered when ya came back from being on the mountain with Sam, you told me what she said in that final note she wrote. . . . .� He paused, inviting her to finish the story.
�She said she had a feeling I would reach the peak myself some day . . . and that when I did��
�When you did, you should have your copy of Emerson with you!�
�I took it with me when I went with the girls, but I didn�t reach the peak. How could I forget it this time?�
�Well, I didn�t!�
�No, you didn�t! Thank you, Sully. Now, please keep reading.� She leaned back again and closed her eyes.
�The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when he discovers that someone else believes in him and is willing to trust him with his friendship.�
�That�s what happened between Sam and me, wasn�t it? There was a sense of �spiritual inspiration� about the way we connected with each other right from the first.�
He was enjoying the simple pleasure of watching her face as she spoke.
�And you know, Sully, that�s at least something of what first drew my heart to you. You believed in me, as a doctor, even as a woman, and you were willing to trust me with your friendship.�
�Guess we kinda learned to trust each other, didn�t we?�
�That wasn�t easy for either of us at the time, was it?�
�Nope. You were gettin� battered so much by the town folks and their bein� skeptical that you could be a real doc��
�And you were still wrapped tightly in your grief over Abigail.�
There was a time when he would have resented her saying that, but no longer. Not only did he acknowledge the truth of it, and long ago they had both come to peace with the fact that it was past history.
After a few moments, Sully said, �Ya know, reading things like this up here�� his arm took in the entire panorama of their setting, ��gives you a whole new perspective on the problems of life, don�t it?�
�It certainly does. It puts a lot of things in perspective, doesn�t it? May I read something?�
She flipped through the pages and found something she remembered having marked in the past:
�Trust thyself: Every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events.�
�Connection of events . . .,� she murmured. �When I was on the mountain with Dorothy and Grace and Myra, I said something like that to them�about how things I never expected had worked together to bring about the most important things in my life. I mean, what if I hadn�t seen that advertisement for a doctor out here��
�And what if Horace hadn�t taken the A off the end of your name, thinkin� you were a man and it was an unimportant middle initial! They never would have sent you an invitation.�
She shook her head. �No! No. I can�t begin to imagine my life without . . . without Colorado Springs, the children�you! And Katie! Do you realize there would be no Katie?�
Now he turned to something he had apparently located previously. �And look at what else your Emerson friend had to say: �Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.� �
They looked at each other, then burst into laughter. Enthusiasm!�that ordinary word that had come to carry an extraordinary and secret meaning for them that no one else was privy to.
They had been so preoccupied that they had not noticed the changes around them. The wind had picked up, the temperature had dropped, and the horizon to the north had changed to the color of an angry bruise. The fluffy clouds had been replaced by swirling, gray billows that had swallowed up the sun. A sudden gust and a rumble of thunder stopped their laughter cold. They looked at each other in alarm, jumped to their feet, and began gathering their belongings and glancing about for the direction from which they had arrived.
Michaela took off directly, but Sully lingered. He had to nurture his soul with one last look at this imposing vista. He had to have one more moment of being this close to the vault of heaven.
He called after the departing figure of his wife: �Michaela!! Don�t be in such a hurry!� But she ignored him and hurried on. When he finally tore himself away and started out, she was a small, receding figure in the rocky landscape stretching away below him.
Ten minutes later, he had almost closed the distance between them when a new sound chilled his heart. It was a rumble, but it was not thunder. He felt the earth beneath him tremble, the whole mountain seem to vibrate.
�Michaela!!� he screamed, but she had already heard and reacted, turned in alarm, then quickened her pace.
Suddenly the noise was deafening as from above them rocks of various sizes began careening down the mountainside. Sully cursed himself that he was not near enough to somehow protect Michaela, but he was too busy dodging the bombardment himself to give her more than a cursory glance. He tripped over rolling rocks, and his feet were gone from under him, flinging him to the ground hard while a rock slammed into his ribs.
When he looked for her again, it was to catch sight of a rock as it glanced off her head. She staggered, lost her footing, and fell headlong.
And the rocks were still coming.
NINE
He was struggling to his feet even before the rocks ceased their assault. He ignored pain as he tested his balance for a spilt second before charging down to Michaela.
When he reached her, she was unmoving and half covered by rocks, some of them bloodstained. In a frenzy he began heaving the rocks aside, grateful they were of a size he could handle.
�Michaela!!� he cried frantically. No response. �Michaela!! Wake up!! Please!!�
He checked for a pulse and found one. He laid his hand on her chest and with sharp relief felt it rising and falling, though faintly. Then he became aware that blood was flowing unstaunched through the hair above her left ear. In a flash he had his knife out and was cutting a large swath from her petticoats. He began wrapping it tightly around her head�and groaned when the vivid stain burst immediately through the cloth.
Debris blowing around him tried to remind him of the storm still brewing, but he was oblivious to it. He cut another swath, and this time he did not wrap it. He just held it tightly to her head, crying her name over and over, unaware of tears making rivers through the dust on his face.
�Michaela!� he whispered, �you can�t leave me�you�re my heartsong!�
He longed to cradle her in his arms, but he did not want to move her until she regained consciousness. Just then a gust of icy wind forced him back to awareness of the storm. Was it only minutes ago that they had begun to flee it at the top? He glanced at the sky and was appalled to discover how dark and blustery it had become.
And then he noticed that Michaela had begun to shake. Her wool dress and buckskin coat were not enough protection against this onslaught of cold air. Once again he tried desperately to arouse her, but to no avail.
Now he knew what he had to do.
He could not wait for her to regain consciousness. He had to get her to those blankets back at the ledge camp site! He would just have to trust that she had no serious internal injuries. He made a cursory inspection of her arms and legs. None appeared to be broken.
The bleeding on her head had slowed but not stopped. Gingerly he pushed her hair aside to assess the injury. It was only about an inch, but already swelling and angry. It would need to be stitched with some hair from the mule�s tail. He grimaced. He had done such a job on others at the mining camp; he certainly had never envisioned doing it on Michaela.
Now, with fumbling fingers, he folded one piece of petticoat into a small square, placed it against the head wound, then tied it in place with the other one. He kept up a running plea for her to awaken, but her only movements were the shaking. The temperature continued to drop. With a further sense of despair, he noticed fluffy flakes of snow beginning to swirl around them.
He stood studying her still form for the briefest moment. Yes. If he picked her up from her left side, he could try to hold the wound against his right shoulder, thus keeping pressure on it. Now his sense of hurry and panic intensified. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his precious burden and turned his face down the mountain.
The time that followed would forever be a blur in his mind. He would not remember the biting cold that stung his face, the angry wind that whipped his hair. He would not remember his breath coming in short, painful gasps in the thin mountain air. He would even forget the rocky trail that became treacherous beneath his feet. But he would never forget the still face of his wife, the relentless shaking of her frail form in his arms, no matter now tightly he held her.
And he would never forget becoming aware of his own tears when he saw them splash onto her face.
�Michaela!!� he was sobbing now. �Michaela! I love you! I need you!�
Just when he felt he could go on no longer, the ledge came into view through the blowing snow. As he started up the slope that led to it, he slipped and almost went down. The fear that shot through him was a physical pain. He knew he should slow his steps, but he continued to charge numbly ahead.
When he reached the camp site, he stood in mental limbo staring at the blankets and equipment piled against the rock wall and covered by a layer of snow. What was he to do with Michaela while he undid the pile? With a painful shock he realized that the cold and his own injuries (which he hadn�t allowed himself to focus on yet) were beginning to blur his thinking. He could not let that happen! He took a deep breath of the biting air, winced at the pain it triggered, then shook his head sharply and gathered his wits.
There was nothing he could do but lay Michaela in the snow, and with a groan of frustration he did so. Then he tore into the pile of equipment and blankets, tossed aside the firewood, removed the coffee pot and skillet only a little less roughly, and shoved the pile of blankets to one side.
Grabbing the top one, he shook it open to half its width and spread it on the ledge against the rock wall. Now he gently scooped up Michaela, laid her on the blanket, and began frantically shaking open the other blankets and dropping them over her.
When all at once there were no blankets left, he stood staring numbly again at the new pile at his feet. It was still blankets, as it had been before, but now they were unfolded. And instead of firewood on top, somewhere underneath was the most precious thing on earth to him. What was he supposed to do now?
That was the moment when his own condition began to register with him. He hurt, terribly, in several places, and he now realized he was cold. Terribly cold. His hands were numb, and he supposed his face was, too. His ears ached from the cold�but at least there was still feeling in them.
That wasn�t all that hurt. His body ached as if it had been pummeled by a mountain�and then he remembered that it had been. All at once, the pile of blankets looked terribly inviting. Not knowing what else to do, he painfully lowered himself to the ledge and slipped beneath them.
Michaela did not stir. She was still shaking, but perhaps not quite as much. He felt for the bandage on her head and was surprised to find it still in place. Grimacing with pain, he gently raised her head and slipped one arm beneath her. Adjusting the covers around them, making sure they still covered her completely and almost covered their heads, he drew her body close to him and closed his eyes.
That�s when the demons of regret began their merciless attacks. Why had he lingered at the top instead of leaving with Michaela? Why had he chosen to indulge his own whim instead of following her lead? If only he had stayed close to her, then surely he could have shielded her from at least some of the blows! Or if only he had made a greater effort to convince her to linger with him!
He thought about the last three days, of the cherished times they had had together, and he knew his memories would all be bittersweet and laced with pain if anything happened to Michaela. He knew he would never forgive himself for bringing her on this excursion.
And he knew he would never forgive this mountain. He thought of the magnificent views they had reveled in�and he felt like screaming and kicking at the mountain for betraying him. It had given them beauty and joy, only to snatch it away and replace it with horror and anguish. If Michaela died . . . for one awful moment it crossed his mind that he would want to die with her. How could he go through that agony again?
Then he remembered Katie.
And he knew it would not be �that agony again.�
No matter what, he would have Katie. She would need him, though not half as much as he would need her. No matter what, he would still have a part of Michaela in the precious daughter he had brought into the world with his own hands.
Just then the form in his arms stirred, and he was instantly alert. �Michaela?? Michaela!�
�Su. . .Sully?� His name had never sounded so beautiful on anyone�s lips, not even hers!
TEN
�Michaela!�
�Su--Sully?� she said again. Her eyes tried to open as she glanced around in confusion. �Where are we?�
�We�re back on the ledge where we slept last night. It�s snowing out. That�s why we�re under these blankets.�
She tried to move�and let out a cry.
�Just lie still!� he urged. �Don�t try to move.� He touched the wrapping on her head and found it had begun to slip. He would have to tend to that wound soon.
�What happened?� she asked weakly.
�The rock slide, remember?�
She shook her head�and groaned. She was still shaking some.
�The rocks gotcha pretty bad, and one of �em gotcha on your head. Ya lost a bit of blood, but I think I got it mostly stopped.�
�How . . . how did we . . . get here?�
�I carried you. When it started snowin� and you started shakin� with the cold, I knew I had to get ya here to where the blankets were.�
�Oh, Sully!� she said softly, and it sounded like a benediction. After a long moment, she whispered, �I love you.� His heart sang. He hadn�t been sure he would ever hear those words again.
Then, �Sully? Where�s Katie? I should be dressing her.�
His heart caught. Did she really not remember?
�Michaela,� he said slowly, �Katie�s back at the homestead�with Colleen and Brian. Remember?�
�Oh,� she said in a small voice.
They were quiet for a few minutes. While she tried to get her bearings, his mind began to contemplate what he needed to do next. He stretched his neck to peer out from under the blankets. The snow wasn�t coming down as hard now, but the sky was still leaden. The wind was definitely still an adversary. He estimated it to be late afternoon.
�Michaela? Ya think it might be important to figure out what your injuries are?�
She made a small sound of agreement.
�How about if ya just try moving, careful like, one thing at a time. How about this hand?� he suggested, indicating the one he was holding. Tentatively she moved her fingers, then her wrist�and winced. He took her hand again and studied it in the bit of light coming from beyond his head. Her sleeve was shredded and abrasions covered the back of her hand and wrist. He then guided her in bending her elbow, moving her shoulder. She grimaced, but he was sure it was not enough to suggest broken bones.
As they began with the other arm, he could tell that, even though she lay with closed eyes, she had become tuned in to what she was doing. The doctor in her had taken over, and she was actively participating in the examination, not just mechanically following orders. He could tell by the way she moved that she was in a good deal of pain, and he was sure she had sustained major bruises. But he was greatly relieved when they finished the tour of all her moving parts and nothing appeared to be broken.
After resting a few minutes, she said, �Sully? I don�t feel any particular pain in my abdomen, but it might be good if you pressed on it in several places to see if I have any injuries inside.� Once again, relief tasted sweet when his examination turned up nothing that brought a strong reaction from her.
�What hurts the most?� he asked now, beginning to be quite uncomfortable wherever his own bruises pressed against the rock ledge. �Your head?�
She nodded and winced as she did so. She put her fingers gingerly to the wrapping on her head and felt the wetness. �Do you think it will need stitches?�
� �Fraid so,� he acknowledged reluctantly. Now she began shivering afresh. His hands made a cursory exploration over her body. Just as he suspected. Her skirt was wet from the snow. The coat, too, was decidedly damp. He knew she had a clean dress in the saddle bags, and he knew that somehow he had to get her out of the wet clothes and into something dry. Oh, and hadn�t she thrown in an old pair of Matthew�s pants?
But where to even start? �Michaela? I need to get your clothes off ya cuz they�re wet and makin� ya colder. Think you can turn and move enough to help me do that?�
Working beneath the blankets made it a challenge beyond his imagination. When they finally succeeded in getting her out of her coat, both were exhausted from the effort and in more pain from aggravating their injuries. But an idea had come to him, and he hastened to carry it out. Rolling reluctantly from under the pile, he dragged the coat out and then spread it as the top layer over the blankets. The buckskin coat, though wet itself, would keep the blankets dryer and would serve as an efficient wind break.
At that point he realized his own buckskin jacket was also wet When he got back under with Michaela, he would shed it, but while he was out in the storm, it was still good protection. Oh, for his red wool poncho he had been forced to burn with Michaela�s clinic equipment last year!
He bent near the pile of blankets. �Michaela? I�m gonna check on the mule and get ya some dry clothes. You be okay till I get back?�
As he walked away, the hastily discarded coffee pot caught his eye. Yes!! That was what they both needed! He also became aware that walking on his right ankle hurt more than he cared to admit. He had been too busy with Michaela to assess his own injuries�and they would have to wait a while longer yet.
After retrieving his leather gloves and leading the mule to a more sheltered location near a scrubby thicket, he rummaged in their supplies for the coffee and matches. But the firewood had been snowed on and at least its outer bark was quite damp. He returned to the thicket, searching in the underbrush beneath it for some drier wood for kindling.
Pushing his way through the undergrowth made the pain in his ribs something he could no longer ignore. In fact, breathing the cold air was distressingly painful. He decided he would have to pace himself a little. He could not push to the point where he would no longer be of use to Michaela.
When he returned to the ledge, he explained to Michaela what he was doing. It took him so long to get the wood to catch that he himself had begun shaking before flames finally began to brighten the dreary afternoon. With the coffee pot on the fire and the pants and dry dress in hand, he crawled gratefully back under the blankets.
�Michaela?� he said, after absorbing the warmth a few minutes and waiting for his teeth to stop chattering, �ya think it would be easier to get the wet clothes off and the dry ones on if we did it outside the covers? Fire�s goin� pretty good now. I got Matthew�s pants, too. They�ll help warm your legs.�
She thought about it a minute, then said grimly, �I think we just have to do it, that�s all.�
By the time the time the exchange of clothing had been made, she was shaking even more. Seeing his distress and concern, she reminded him that the shaking was actually a good sign, that it meant her body had not shut down from the cold but was working to warm itself.
He smiled at her wanly, grateful to see her able to think more clearly now and remember things she knew. Fortunately, the coffee was ready. He helped her sit against the rock wall, wrapped snugly in a blanket, another laid loosely over and around her as a shield from the still falling snow. He poured their coffee then, wrapped himself in another blanket, and eased himself down beside her. The warmth from the fire seeped into them, and the steam from the cup felt wonderful on his face. Feeling was beginning to return to his hands.
He felt so tired, he just wanted to burrow under the blankets with her and not awaken until a warm, sunny day when they were fully recovered. But there was one more thing he had to do before he could let up.
�Michaela? Mule-tail hair�ll work good for sewin� up your head, but do we have anything we could use for a needle?�
�I think . . . I think there�s a needle in my little bag . . . where I keep my soap and things. There�s a little bottle of carbolic acid in there, too.�
They were quiet for several minutes, both thinking about the ordeal ahead, knowing it had to be done before daylight faded. Finally she said, again grimly, �I�m ready whenever you are.�
In years to come they would laugh when they talked about it, and others would laugh with them. . . . Sully trying to take delicate stitches in her head while Michaela gritted her teeth on a stick, just as Brian had done when she set his leg during her earliest days as his mother . . . . Sully, nervous beyond words in the knowledge that he was stitching on a doctor, of all people, and feeling each wince of Michaela�s as though it were a lance to his own flesh . . . And Michaela, fretting in helpless silence because someone was stitching on her person, but in a place where she couldn�t watch and provide help and direction.
No, they weren�t laughing about it now.
When he declared the task finished, they were both completely spent, and so was the day�s light. He insisted they drink one more cup of hot coffee. He offered her a leftover biscuit, but she shook her head, so he munched on it himself.
She eyed the sky. �I hope those clouds full of snow blow away,� she said hopefully.
�No, ya really don�t,� he said gently. �Those cloud are helpin� keep us warm. What we need is for the wind to die down and the clouds to stay put, least till mornin�. Otherwise, it could get colder�n you wanna think about tonight.�
Limping, he gathered another armload of brush to add to the windbreak he had built behind their heads the evening before. Hoping to provide a little more relief to their bruised bodies, he folded a second blanket to go under them. His buckskin jacket joined her coat on top the pile, and finally he crawled gratefully under the covers with her.
Now they melded themselves together, face to face, heart to heart, eager to share their body warmth with each other. Secure in the knowledge that they had survived this day, they knew that somehow, together, they would survive this night as well, and the next day, whatever it held.
On this anniversary adventure, their hearts had been knit together by pleasure and by passion. Tonight they were being knit together by pain and adversity. It did not surprise either of them that tonight�s bonding was at least as strong, perhaps even stronger. Passion could take them to great heights. Going to the depths together was taking their love and devotion to an even greater height than they had yet experienced.
Just as he thought she had fallen asleep, she said quietly,
�Sully?�
�Yes?�
�I remember now.�
�What?�
�The rocks coming down.�
ELEVEN
It was a long night.
Discomfort and pain awoke them both more times than they could count. Every time they moved, something hurt. Michaela�s head still throbbed. Sully found it difficult to arrange positions where he could hold her for the sake of warmth without generating additional distress for his bruised ribs and hip.
It seemed like it had been night forever when he became aware that she was particularly restless. When he asked her what was the matter, she hesitated before replying, �Sully, I�m sorry, but I�m awfully thirsty.�
He was not surprised. All she had consumed since lunch the day before were those two cups of coffee. Indeed, he was thirsty himself. Castigating himself for not thinking to leave the canteen within reach, he tried to remember where he had last put it down. He could not. There was nothing to do but get out and search for it.
First he withdrew the covers from his head and peered at the sky. The clouds were holding! And the gorgeous moon of the night before was clearly somewhere on the other side of those clouds because the world was suffused with a soft light. He spotted the canteen the moment he rolled out to look for it.
Getting to his feet, however, and taking the three steps needed to reach it released a shock of pain through his ankle. He swore to himself. He had no time for another crutch!
They dozed fitfully the rest of the night. As morning approached, they became aware that they were no longer chilled through, and they didn�t have to remain as closely huddled. That allowed them a little more freedom to try and get comfortable. But it was still cold outside the covers.
�Sully? You�re hurting, too, aren�t you? How bad did the rocks get you?�
�Mostly it�s my ankle from when I fell, and my ribs. But I�ll be all right. How do you feel?�
�My head feels a little better. I�m starting to get hungry, too. That�s going to be a problem, isn�t it?�
He had been thinking about that. �There�s one biscuit left, and you�re gonna eat it. I had one last night. We still have some bacon and makin�s for more biscuits, but firewood is a problem right here. There�s a bit of jerky and dried fruit.�
�Is the mule okay?�
�He should be. Looks like it only snowed about two inches in all. What we need most now is to get ourselves down to a lower altitude where it�s warmer and there�s more firewood.�
They were quiet a moment, then she said, �Sully? I�m going to have another problem before long. What I drank�well, now nature is beginning to call.�
It was something else he had anticipated, but he didn�t have an easy solution. She had not been on her feet since being unconscious. Ordinarily, he would carry her, but between his bad ankle and the snowy, slippery surfaces, he knew that was ill-advised. He explained that to her. �Do you think, if I help you, you can get on your feet and walk . . . far enough?�
A half hour later, with their buckskin coats back on, they accomplished the necessary with less hassle than he had expected. It exasperated him that the worst problem now seemed to be his ankle. When they had made their way back to the blankets, she insisted she wanted to examine it. He protested heatedly. After all, he was sure it wasn�t broken, and he already knew how much it hurt�what more could she diagnose beyond that?
�Besides, I�m not sure I can get my boot off, and if I do, I�m afraid I might not get it back on.�
�If your foot is that swollen,� she suggested quietly, �then the boot probably really needs to come off.�
By removing the laces completely and with assistance from her, the boot did come off. He had to admit that having her examine the ankle was a good feeling. It meant she was getting back to herself. She suggested they apply snow to it in an effort to bring down the swelling. Then she began gently massaging his foot. When she looked up, he read in her eyes that she was not a doctor caring for a patient. She was a loving wife making an effort to return some of the tender care her husband had been giving her. When she finished, she pressed her warm lips on the top of his foot before pulling his sock back on.
�I don�t think it�s a real bad sprain,� she said. �I think it�s bad right now because of all the strain you put on it yesterday. If you can give it some rest, keep your weight off of it, and elevate it as often as possible, I believe it will start feeling better rather quickly.�
Oh, sure! he thought. I�m near the top of a mountain, miles from home with an injured wife�and I�m supposed to give my foot a rest?
Now the cold was beginning to penetrate them again, and he knew they had to get back under shelter until the sun began to warm the mountain. �Now is when we want the clouds to blow way,� he said.
Their aching bodies were weary of the ledge, so he folded blankets in a thicker, smaller padding for them to sit on and prepared another one to go at their backs. Then he got Michaela situated before using the last of his kindling and firewood to make up another pot of coffee. He also got one of the packs to elevate his foot on.
When he was settled beside her, their cocoon of blankets tucked around them, she said, �Sully, I�m sorry I fussed at you about bringing so many blankets! We would never have made it without them, would we?�
He grinned. �Remember why I told ya I brought �em all? I�d like to say it was cuz I had a premonition about this snow storm�but it wasn�t.�
She remembered vividly. �Long live enthusiasm!� she said softly. �Can we say it actually saved our lives?�
�Not really, but maybe the anticipation of it did,� he acknowledged, and they broke into laughter, albeit somewhat shakily.
Then his smile faded, and he looked at her with his soul in his eyes. �There were moments�no, hours!�yesterday when I couldn�t imagine we�d be laughin� together again like this so soon!�
She smiled a little crookedly because the laughter had indeed reminded her of the throbbing in her head. �Well, husband, I need some time to recover but, thanks to you, I will!�
As they waited for the sun to disperse the fog and night chill, Sully struggled in his mind over how they should proceed from here. He felt adamant that Michaela should ride the mule instead of walking�but then what would he do with the packs and equipment? When he finally voiced his dilemma, she was just as adamant that she would walk.
�Sully, if I�m on the mule, that�s going to put extra pressure on you, watching out for him and carrying some of our stuff. No. With that ankle, you need to be able to give full attention to yourself and every step you take on this snow cover. I know I will not be able to walk very fast, but neither can you! I promise you I�ll be cautious and sensible. If we do it carefully, together�and rest whenever we need to, we�ll be able to make it all right.�
He had little choice but to agree, however reluctantly.
An hour later he decided they needed to get moving. At this altitude, the snow would not melt soon enough for them to wait for it. They would simply have to risk its treachery on the trail in order to be rid of it. He was relieved to find that he could actually work his foot back into the boot, leaving the lacing loose. Then he cut himself a sturdy walking stick. He would try that before reverting to a crutch.
Michaela insisted she was able to stand and fold the blankets while he readied the mule. There were enough of Robert E�s oats left for the animal to get a good start to the day. Before it was over, they hoped to be back to better grazing.
Michaela was again grateful for the old pants. Under her skirt they provided extra warmth and protection from the wind. Her buckskin coat was still damp, but it would still be good protection. They looked forward to getting everything dried out, hopefully when they reached a warmer altitude.
As they came gingerly down off the ledge, they came upon the turn-off to their overlook of two nights before. With no strength to spare to retrace their steps to it, they halted where they were in a moment of memory and silent tribute.
Sully shook his head slowly. �And we said we would never forget this place!� he said wryly, glancing back at the ledge.
She knew what he meant. They had assumed their memories would simply be of the beautiful landscape and their intense loving in the moonlight. Now the memories also included pain, distress, and deep shadows�the other end of the spectrum of love.
During the first half hour on the trail, their progress seemed measurable only in inches. They had to test their footing with each step. When the trail led steeply down, they often had to find some kind of scrub growth to grab on to. Whenever possible, they helped each other. Michaela was right, Sully thought. I could not have managed the mule with this ankle.
Instead, the trusty animal was following his own lead down the mountain. A couple of times, Sully had to whistle at him and redirect him or make him wait for them, but most of the time he seemed to be doing an acceptable job, with them encouraging him along from behind.
After an hour, however, they were both exhausted. Sully knew one reason was because they had had so little to eat. He called a halt, tied the mule, selected a pack for under his foot again, and helped Michaela sit down by a rock before sinking wearily beside her.
�Just for a minute,� he said, taking a drink and handing the canteen to her. �Then I�ll make us a fire and we�ll have some biscuits and bacon.�
�Here, Sully,� she said, patting her lap.
It was too tempting an invitation to resist. He twisted around and stretched out with his head in her lap. She began running her fingers through his hair with one hand while with the other she stroked his temple.
In three minutes he was asleep.