Michaela sat watching Sully sleep, her heart so full it was difficult to sort out what she was feeling. She knew she had heard only a fraction of what he had endured during the time she was unconscious. As a doctor, she had a good idea of what it had cost him physically, given his own injuries. As a wife, she could only imagine what he had gone through emotionally.

She could help with the physical injuries. More than that, however, she longed to help bring healing to some of the emotional pain. She knew he did not easily speak about his feelings, but she felt it would be good if he would talk to her more about yesterday.

She thought about the changes this man had brought into her life, and her mind could not fathom them all. It wasn’t so much the changes in life circumstances from an unmarried woman to a wife and mother, nor even the changes from one struggling to prove herself as a doctor to one accepted and even acknowledged as a leader in her community. Those things she had envisioned as possibilities.

What she had never imagined was the depth of the love between her and Sully. That such a love could exist between a man and a woman was beyond even her girlish dreams. Though she believed that in their own way her father and mother had loved each other, she knew they had never experienced anything like this. And despite how much she had loved David and grieved when she thought him dead, she could not envision sharing with David the kind of deep emotional bond that had developed between her and this man sleeping with his head in her lap, three days’ growth of beard on his beloved face.

She knew that the roots of her love for him went so deeply into her soul that she could no longer trace where they began or where they ended. And she knew from the ways he looked at her, from the tender ways he cared for her, that she was just as deeply a part of him, too. That’s why she knew, without his having to give her the details, what he must have suffered the day before when he hadn’t known the extent of her injuries.

She thought about how she had known instinctively when they were first married that they were now a part of each other. She smiled at the memory, remembering how the thought had seemed new to Sully, yet how before long he had come to agree with her. Now she realized that in those days of the infancy of their marriage she had understood only a taste of what would come to be.

For a moment her mind stood out and away from them, observing them almost as a person outside herself. What she saw was a man who had poured out all he had to save the one he loved, and a woman who now wanted to find some way to demonstrate how much she loved him for it. She also saw a woman who needed to make it up to her man for the way she had reacted to his plans for this trip. Why did she do that? she wondered.

She found herself thinking about some of the more serious clashes they had had over the last year—over the help he had given the Pueblo Indian, over her accepting money from Daniel to save their home from foreclosure, and the tensions resulting from Daniel’s confessed interest in her. Did those clashes mean there were chinks in their love? She could not believe it, but it was something she wanted to talk to him about.

Just then, the sun began to break through the clouds, and a ray of virgin sunshine kissed his face. Somehow, the sight brought her vivid flashes of the two times they had expressed their love to each other on this mountain, in the rosy dusk and in the brilliant moonlight. As surely as she knew they wouldn’t be doing any of that today, she knew it would not be long before once again they would be eager to nurture what seemed a nearly insatiable hunger for physical expression of their love.

Yes, this man had brought changes to her life that she had never, ever imagined!

With the sun now in his face, Sully awoke with a start. He glanced around in confusion and started to sit up. She pressed him back down. “Shhhh! Don’t be in such a hurry,” she said.

He remembered those had been his exact words to her on the peak—was it only yesterday? He couldn’t think about that now! He tried again to get up, and again she would not let him.

“But . . . but you’re hungry!”

“Not any hungrier than you are! And who’s been telling me on this excursion that we don’t have to rush about anything?”

“But that was before . . . before you were hurt!”

“Before we were both hurt! But, Sully, we’re doing better today, and you’ve been nearly killing yourself caring for me. I can’t do much for you yet, but right now I want you to relax another minute or two. It’ll be good for your ankle!” she added as a persuasive device.

He sighed, and it was a sigh of release. It did indeed feel good, lying here, having his foot elevated, feeling her fingers playing in his hair as they had been when he drifted into sleep. He looked up at her now and found her smiling.

“Have I told you lately how handsome you are?” she asked almost shyly. “If you’re going to do that—” he began, moving again to get up.

“Okay, okay! I won’t.” He relaxed. “But it’s hard not to,” she added, “when I’ve been sitting here watching you sleep.”

She saw the light go out of his face and wondered what had struck him. “Sully? Sully, what are you thinking about?”

It took him a long moment to respond, and she waited, her fingers making loving circles on his temple. Finally, “I was remembering how I watched your face yesterday as I carried you down the mountain. It was so still, even though you were shaking so hard.” He closed his eyes. Without opening them, he whispered, “I was afraid you were going to die right there in my arms.”

His pain stabbed her heart, and her fingers grew still. Then something began to flicker in her memory. “Did you . . . did you say anything to me?”

Again he hesitated, and still he did not open his eyes. “I told you . . . I loved you . . . and I . . . called you . . . my heartsong.”

She closed her eyes to concentrate. “I think . . . but I can’t be sure . . . I think deep inside me somewhere I heard that.” It was an awesome thought that left her momentarily speechless. He reached up toward her face, and she took his hand and pressed his fingers to her lips. “I don’t remember your ever calling me that before,” she ventured.

He smiled a little shyly. “Don’t think I ever have. It’s what I called you to the Indians when the dog soldiers had ya. I think it’s what made the one lady finally break down and tell me which direction to go searching for ya.”

They were quiet a few minutes before he said slowly, “Michaela? I’m so sorry I made ya come on this excursion.”

Her reaction was instantaneous. “Don’t say that, Sully! The rock slide wasn’t your fault, and aside from that it’s been a wonderful excursion!” “But getting you hurt so bad—getting both of us hurt . . . and the rest of the trip home . . . !” Words failed him over how far awry his careful plans had gone.

“We’ll be okay, Sully!” she reassured him. Then, “Speaking of home . . . how soon do you think . . . the kids will start to worry?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Told Matthew on the side it might be an extra night or so. But I am sorry. I know ya miss your kids and I know ya need to get home so you can heal proper—”

“It’s not that,” she protested. “It’s just . . .” In that moment, she remembered her thoughts while he was asleep. As much as she missed Katie, she knew that she was not quite ready to be home yet. Not only were neither of them physically ready to press ahead with the rest of the trip in a hurry, but she knew she was not yet ready to give up this precious time alone with her husband.

THIRTEEN

“It’s okay, Sully,” she said now. “We’ll take as much time as we need to get ourselves home. And now, my dear husband, I am ready for that bacon and biscuits you promised a while back!”

The simple food tasted delicious, and they ate heartily. Then they napped for a couple of hours, stretched out on blankets spread in the sunshine. The snow was nearly gone now, and though the breeze was cool, the warmth of the sun balanced it out. They had been able to snatch so little rest the night before, huddled tensely against the cold, with the rock ledge and their injuries making sure they were never comfortable for long. In contrast, they now awoke considerably more refreshed.

When they started out again, Sully’s ankle felt some better. The trail was still wet, but not terribly slippery. They took two more rest breaks but were gratified that it didn’t take them as long as expected to reach the meadow where they had camped the first night.

“This is what I was hopin’ for,” Sully said, indicating the lean-to. “We should be able to get a good sleep tonight, and we’ll have a chance to clean up a little, too. How does fresh fish for supper sound?”

It sounded like a king’s banquet.

While Sully fished, Michaela struggled with her hair. Not only had it not been combed for a day and a half, but it was still matted with dried blood and rock dust. Watching her from his fishing spot, Sully could tell that she was making little progress and the effort was sapping her strength. He propped his fishing pole and went to her.

“Michaela? Don’t try to get it all clean and fixed just now. I’m workin’ on an idea that’ll help us get cleaned up before we get home.” She looked at him questioningly, but that was all he seemed prepared to say at the moment.

“Can ya just get it back off your face so as it doesn’t bother you too much?” She nodded, and he went back to his fishing.

Their supper was as delicious as they had anticipated it would be. They sat on the same log, eating once again off the china plates that had been left safely tucked away at the site. Any dampness remaining in their clothes was soon dissipated by the roaring fire Sully built.

When the fire died back to a bed of coals, Sully added more wood, but not as much as before. Darkness had settled on them. The moon wouldn’t be up for another couple of hours, but now the stars came out in brilliant profusion against the clear night sky. Michaela took her place once again in front of him, sitting on the ground instead of the log, and leaning back against him.

“How does your head feel?” he asked, stroking her hair but staying carefully away from the wound.

“Not too bad. I’m glad you checked it earlier for infection. It doesn’t feel to me like any is setting in.”

“That’s a miracle,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. “I think we had several miracles, not the least of which was that you weren’t hurt so badly but what you could carry me to the ledge site where we could get warm. I can’t imagine how you did that with your ankle!”

“Didn’t even notice my ankle hurt till after I got ya down there.”

“How can I ever thank you, Sully?”

“You’ll find a way, somehow, sometime,” he said with a suggestive chuckle.

He stroked her arms as her elbows rested on his knees. “You know, before you started comin’ to, I wanted to take this mountain and kick it out of sight for what it done to you.”

“I’m sure I would have, too, if our roles had been reversed.”

“But now you’re okay, I’m gettin’ back to being able to remember the good things on this trip.”

She recognized her chance and seized it. “Sully, I’m real sorry I acted like I did when you told me about planning this . . . this anniversary celebration.”

After a long moment, he said, “I’m still not sure you really understand what it meant to me.”

“I thought I did, but perhaps I don’t.”

He was silent so long she finally stirred against him and said softly, “Sully?”

Had they grown in their love and their relationship enough, he wondered, for her to be able to accept what he wanted to say without becoming defensive, without “goin’ on” as she was inclined to? He decided to chance it.

“I don’t think you ever understood what it felt like for me when you didn’t want me to come climbin’ with ya for your birthday that time.”

She felt as if he had punched the air out of her. “But . . . but you said it was okay! I thought you understood!”

“What I understood was that ya didn’t want me, and as far as sayin’ it was okay, ya didn’t really give me a choice!”

There was no doubt about it, she thought. Truth hurts. But so does rejection, she realized afresh. Yet she wasn’t quite ready to capitulate.

“Are you saying you didn’t understand how much it meant to me . . . to be able to prove to myself—”

“Do you remember,” he interrupted, “how once away back I told ya to quit tryin’ so hard?”

“But—but that was a long time ago!!”

“Yup, it was,” he acknowledged, “and you’ve grown out of a lot of it since then—”

“But I thought you’ve always admired my independence and not being a helpless kind of woman!”

“I do! You know I do. But sometimes . . . sometimes a man likes to have his wife need him, too . . .” his voice trailed off as he realized the values he was expressing were beginning to trip over each other. He closed his arms around her, drew her more closely against him, and kissed her through her hair.

“Michaela,” he said, his lips near her ear, “we came to each other as two very self-reliant people, didn’t we?”

She nodded. “And yet nowadays we both admit we need each other. So what has happened to us?”

“Don’t ya think folks needin’ each other is a natural result of lovin’ each other?”

She thought about that. “Do you think that deep inside we really wanted to need each?”

“Could be.”

“So where does that leave us now? Can we need each other and still be self-reliant?”

She appreciated the fact that he didn’t answer quickly or glibly. “Like I told you a long time ago, there’s no shame in askin’ somebody to help ya. Same way, there’s no shame in needin’ somebody. And of course we’re still self-reliant!”

“You make it sound so simple!”

“Oh, it ain’t simple! Folks admittin’ they need each other takes humility, and that ain’t exactly a popular human trait.”

“So it wasn’t okay with you that I wanted to make that climb by myself, without relying on you?” It was more a statement than a question.

Again he was silent a long time, gazing into the fire, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know. Maybe the best we can do with it is both of us tryin’ harder to understand how the other one feels.” As an afterthought, he added, “Maybe it’s a matter of a husband needing his wife to want him even if she may not feel she needs him.”

The fire crackled, and a breeze rustled the aspens. The night cradled them in silence as they pondered the age-old challenge of weaving two lives, two beings, together into that mystery called marriage.

Finally she said, “So how can I make it up to you for not wanting you to come with me before?”

He took her by the shoulders and turned her to look at him. “You more’n made it up by comin’ with me on this trip—even though not many hours ago I was hatin’ myself for bringin’ ya. And don’t ya see?” he added. “It’s that kind of thing that had me worried. If that rock slide had happened when you were alone . . . .”

He could see that the thought sobered her, tremendously. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. Her face in the firelight was so beautiful, he wanted to frame it in his mind and remember it forever. “Ya know somethin’?” he whispered. “I haven’t kissed you since . . . the rock slide.”

When she thought back on the kiss just before falling asleep under the stars, she was startled to realize how much it reminded her of that first kiss they had shared in front of the clinic—shy and tentative, sacred and almost virgin. Making one more effort to find a comfortable position, she smiled to herself. There would be nothing virgin about the kisses she knew they would share when they were a little more recovered from these injuries!

FOURTEEN

The next morning they felt up to making a fuller account of their injuries. In addition to Michaela’s scraped hand and stitched head, Sully’s sprained ankle and bruised ribs, they discovered they both had major hip bruises. Sully had another on his shoulder and two smaller ones on his legs. Michaela had more than they could easily count, on her back, her legs, her shoulders, and a small one on one knee.

Though their overall pain seemed less this morning, they were decidedly stiff. Getting up and about took determined effort. It all served to confirm in Sully’s mind his plan for the rest of the trip home. He talked about it as they lingered over a breakfast of biscuits and dried fruit.

“Michaela, I know you’re anxious to get home to the kids, especially Katie.” He paused, and she looked at him expectantly. “But I’ve been thinkin’. With your head injury and my ankle, would it be better to take it easy and do some more healin’ along the way, rather than pushing hard, tryin’ to get home as fast as possible? Speakin’ as a doctor, what do you think?”

She thought a moment. “I think, given the nature of our injuries, that we can heal along the way almost as well as at home. In fact, we’ve already started to.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Maybe we’d be smarter not to try and rush home.”

“So what do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking we should just rest here today. We have the lean-to. There’s plenty of firewood, and I think we can make the food stretch. When I see how much better my foot does when I stay off it, it seems the sensible thing. What about your head wound?”

“I’m sure giving it another day would be helpful . . . but . . .”

“But you miss your baby! So do I, Michaela, so do I.” After a moment, he went on,

“How does this sound? If we take a short cut-off—oh, about a mile or so off the trail we come on with Matthew—I’m pretty sure there are some hot springs. If we feel up to it tomorrow, we can go that far. Do you think hot springs would help us heal?”

“I’m sure they would! They would help with the soreness and certainly promote healing of the bruises—and perhaps help your ankle. Would we . . . would we sleep there then?”

“That’s what I’m thinking, providin’ we can find a decent spot. Then we should be able to reach home late the next day.” They were both quiet, and Sully suspected she was calculating the amount of time before reaching her baby, as well as the total number of days being away from her. He had thought to shorten the trip for them. Now it would be about as long as if they hadn’t ridden to the base of the mountain. But if they hadn’t done that, it would have been even longer.

As they picked up from breakfast, he said, “I brought a bag of beans along, though I wasn’t sure we’d stay in one place long enough to cook them. So far, we haven’t, but today seems like a perfect time. I even have a chunk of bacon left to flavor ‘em with.” “Sounds good, Sully. Look,” she added, as she saw him reaching for the cooking pot, “I’ll walk to the creek for water while you build up the fire.”

When the beans were set to cook, Sully led the mule to fresh grazing and Michaela straightened their bed a bit. At this lower altitude where it wasn’t so cold, they were able to put more blankets under them once again, and it certainly helped trying to sleep with so many bruises. As she bent to pick up the last blanket, she found herself lightheaded, but she shook it off, assuring herself it would pass.

So what were they going to do with themselves all day? she wondered. She looked out across the meadow and the profusion of spring blossoms. Perhaps she should pick some and dry them for a memento of their excursion! The idea pleased her, and when she mentioned it to Sully, he approved.

“I’d love you to come with me,” she said, “but you mustn’t. Otherwise, what good are we doing staying over here to rest your foot?”

He agreed, but he made her promise to stay in full sight.

When she returned, she found him sitting on their log, whittling. So he too would have a memento, one made with his very own hands. She wondered

what it was going to be, but it was too early to tell. She decided to wait and watch it take shape rather than asking. Though it was midmorning, the sun had never made it through the cloud cover, and now the morning seemed to darken even more. Sully studied the sky. It was again

 leaden. He glanced around at the clothing they had spread to dry the evening before. Michaela followed his gaze. “Oh, I hope it’

s not going to rain!” she said as she got slowly, carefully, to her feet and began checking the clothing piece by piece and gathering it up. “Looks like a good chance it might,” he said.

 He checked the beans. They were bubbling happily but would need a lot more cooking before they would be edible. Staring at the sky to wish away the rain would do no good.

 “Michaela, I’m gonna add some more wood to the fire. Then I think we better move the bed under the lean-to.”

 As they tried to get comfortable with all their stiffness and sore places, they laughed together at how much they seemed like two old people. But it did feel good to relax and not have to go anywhere or help anyone but themselves for a change. Michaela opened Emerson and Sully picked up his whittling. From her surreptitious glances, she decided it was taking shape as something with a head.

 Watching her read, he reveled once again in the precious knowledge that he had not lost her. He thought about their discussion of the evening before, about their differences, and he couldn’t help remembering how sure he had been in the beginning that those differences would forever keep them apart.

 Yet they had been like two intense forces, drawn to each other by a power outside themselves. Sometimes they had tried to ignore the attraction, sometimes to resist it, but they had not been able to. The chemistry had simmered from the beginning, and they had both been well-nigh defenseless in the face of it. What would his life be like now if she had not come into it? He didn’t even want to think about it. The close call of two days ago would haunt his memory as long as he lived.

 Now she said, “Sully, listen to this:”

 “He walks abreast with his days and feels no shame in not ‘studying a profession,’ for he does not postpone his life, but lives already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances.”

Both were silent a moment, contemplating the implications of the words. She said quietly, “You haven’t ever been sorry, have you, that you didn’t ‘study a profession’? I mean, your life is really so rich without it! You know how to do so many things, or as old Waldo put it, you have a hundred chances!”

 He didn’t respond immediately. His knife continued to attack the wood in his hand, and she could now tell that the “creature,” whatever it was, was developing a tail. Finally he said, “I think I’ve done what’s right for me. Don’t see how I could ever be boxed in to a job where I always had to do certain things at a certain time.”

 “I can’t imagine you doing anything like that! And Sully, I hope you know I always want you to do what is right for you.”

 He looked at her, and their eyes articulated volumes, not just about love but about respect and devotion and loyalty.

 Now Michaela laid her book down and stretched out. Sully glanced out at the sky again and was grateful to see the rain was holding off. At least perhaps they would get to have some nourishing bean soup before rain put out the fire.

 He did a mental check of their camp site and equipment. The mule would be fine under the protection of that tree. Their dry clothing had been gathered back into their saddle bags. Best bring those into the back of the lean-to with them. No problem for the cooking equipment if it rained. Michaela had hung her wildflowers, heads down, in a back corner of the lean-to.

 Now he noticed she had fallen asleep. Seemed like a great idea. Quietly he eased himself down beside her, gathered one of her hands tenderly in both of his, and closed his eyes.

 FIFTEEN

 Sully did not sleep. His mind was too busy thinking about how he was going to get them safely home. He was grateful Michaela was doing as well as she was, but he had a feeling she was still more fragile from her encounter with the rocks than perhaps it appeared on the surface.

 So he was awake when it began to rain. Not hard. Just that gentle, cozy kind of rain that makes one want to curl up in bed with a good book—or better yet, a good wife. Well, he had the wife and the book and, such as it was, the bed. He even had a roof—of sorts—over his head. What he did not have was a house around him, and if he didn’t do something soon, the bean soup would become more soup than bean.

 He rolled quietly off the blankets, got to his feet, and went to the fire. Finding the beans cooked enough to eat, he brought the pot with a couple of spoons back to the edge of the lean-to. If the rain kept coming down as it was, gently and not blowing around, they would be okay. Rather than lying down again, he picked up his whittling.

 When Michaela opened her eyes, it took her a few seconds to get her bearings. “Sully? Is that rain I hear?”

 “Yup. Started a spell ago.”

 She moved to get up. “What about—”

 “Everythin’s where it needs to be. You just relax.”

 A few minutes later, they sat cross-legged on the blankets with the pot between them, savoring the soup. The warm nourishment was exceedingly welcome. They commented on the singular nature of their setting—two people huddling out of the rain in a tiny lean-to on an immense mountain.

 “Know what this reminds me of?” he asked, a far-away look in his eyes.

 “What?”

 “The time we were in the cave after I rescued you from the dog soldiers. We were sort of on a mountainside then, too.”

 “That day you offered me honey and berries, not bean soup!”

 “That day I was almost as scared for you as I was two days ago.”

 Intense memories of that emotional experience gripped them both, and they were silent for several moments. Then he looked up, met her eyes, and held them.

 “Don’t you think,” he asked quietly, “that was when it became clear to both of us that we really couldn’t live without each other and that we had better find a way to make it work?”

 “I hadn’t thought about it quite like that before, but I think you’re right, Sully.”

 Without a word, they leaned across the soup pot for a kiss. True, it was nothing like the honey-laced one they had shared that day in the cave. A fervent and treasured memory, that kiss could still stir delicious internal knots when they recalled it, but nothing could entice them to return to it. The uncertainties of their relationship at that point held nothing for them compared to the heart security and the cherished pleasures that were now theirs in marriage. But, he found himself thinking, maybe I should sneak some honey up to the bedroom sometime . . . .

 Dipping her spoon in the soup again, Michaela said, “I wonder if higher up this rain is coming down as snow.”

 “Could be. But as warm as it is here, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just rain.”

 When they had had all the soup they wanted, he set the pot aside. The rain was continuing steadily, a little harder than before. It was hard to tell how long the roof of the lean-to, and above it the trees of the bower, would keep them dry, but obviously they weren’t going anywhere.

 Rather than stretching out again, Sully pulled out the leather pouch that held the china dishes. Michaela watched him, puzzled. What could he possibly want with it right now? He rummaged longer than usual, then told her to close her eyes. Thoroughly curious, she still had no choice but to comply. She felt him put something flat and hard in her hands and opened her eyes to discover—their chess game.

 “Sully!” Their eyes met again. For a moment she was besieged by the haunting memory of the hurt she had seen in his eyes when she had played chess so spiritedly with Daniel. It was a hurt she had not acknowledged to herself until later. She felt the sting of tears. To keep him from seeing them, she closed her eyes and leaned across the game to kiss him.

 But when he drew back, he did see them, and he kissed her again, harder, as if trying to disguise some emotion of his own.

 “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m so often insensitive to your feelings.”

 “That’s okay,” he said, busying himself with the game pieces. “I think you’ve made some progress. But this just gives me an excuse to beat you real bad in chess! Then we can call it even!”

 She looked to see if he was serious and found instead a twinkle in his eyes. Did that mean he no longer fretted about her and Daniel? A quick reflection on the last four days and she was sure he understood that Daniel was not an issue—and never should have been.

 They played at the chess for a some time but found they were too easily distracted to concentrate on serious competition. Eventually they tired of it. After a quick dash out into the rain for some of the necessities of life, they lay down again, and this time they both fell asleep.
 
 

 The rain didn’t stop until the middle of the night. When they awoke in late afternoon, they felt refreshed but found themselves once again noticeably stiff. With the rain not letting up, supper had to be jerky with cold bean soup. There would be no coffee, either. They laughed and teased each other, especially at their efforts to move around in the lean-to without knocking each other over. Laughter was something they had not done nearly enough of in recent times. They talked about the tales they would have to tell their grandchildren, and they laughed some more.

 When darkness overtook them and they settled down to sleep, they lay facing the opening of the lean-to, her back against him, his arm tucking her in close. He nuzzled her neck through her hair. “Bet I can guess what you’re thinkin’ about,” he ventured.

 “You can?”

 “Bet you’re thinkin’ about the time we were trackin’ the bad water and you got me to come into the lean-to outa the rain.”

 She turned her head in his direction and surprise showed in her voice. “How did you know?”

 “Well, it would be hard to miss since we’re doin’ the same thing now.”

 “Not quite. We lay down like this, true, but you didn’t have your arm around me this much!”

 “You’re right, but I sure wanted to. Can I ask you a question? What were ya thinkin’ about when ya reached up and squeezed my hand?”

 She reflected a moment. “I don’t think my thoughts were anything I could put into words. It was more a feeling that was almost overpowering. I felt like I needed to touch you, to somehow make a connection. I suppose that sounds silly . . . “

 “No, it don’t.” “And what were you thinking?”

 “I was afraid you’d ask that!”

 He chuckled, and she said, “Sully!” with a degree of alarm.

 “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, then was silent a few minutes before going on. “It’s true I’m a man, and I was feelin’ about like any man would feel at a time like that. But I would never have done anything to alarm you or hurt you.”

 Her fingers stroked his arm slowly. “Deep in my heart, Sully, I knew that.”

 “I think that’s what got me the most—the way ya trusted me. No way would I have done anything to jeopardize or violate that trust.”

 After a moment she said, “Like I once told you, Sully, you’re the most honorable man I know, and I knew it way back then. I think I knew it almost from the beginning, starting that night in the tent at Black Kettle’s camp.”

 Sully shifted, trying to relieve pressure from the bruise on his hip. “Michaela?” he asked now. “Are ya gonna feel ready to set out again tomorrow?”

 “I’ll be ready to set out. How long I will last I can’t predict. What about your ankle?”

 “It’s comin’ along. I do pretty well if I keep using the walkin’ stick.”

 “Do you think we can make it to the hot springs?” “I think we have a chance.”

 “I’m looking forward to it.”

 As sleep began to woo them, memories of that long-ago lean-to lingered. Their hearts had been drawn to each other like magnets, yet it had been too early to know that someday they would indeed share their lives and that their love would reach to their depth of their souls.

 At the same time, Sully’s mind couldn’t help being drawn to memories of the many solitary lean-to’s he had inhabited during his dark-valley days. He remembered keenly, after Michaela came into his life, times of lying in a cocoon of loneliness and daring to dream of her lying there with him.

 “Michaela?” he said quietly, smiling to himself as he drew her just a little closer.

 “Yes, Sully?”

 “Don’t know if I should tell ya this . . . but after our night together in that lean-to, I used to lie in my own back home and imagine you in my arms.”

 “And did I do this?” she asked, twisting around to locate his lips in the dark for a good-night kiss.

 “Well, my imagination was good, but I assure you, reality is much better.”

 “You’d better say that!”

 Little by little, the murmur of the rain lulled them to sleep. Safe in their love, content with their memories, they slept the night away while their bodies worked at healing, their spirits at being renewed, and their inner hearts at singing.

 SIXTEEN

 When it was time to set out the next morning, they found they were reluctant to leave behind this place that had become quite dear to them. They were in no hurry to break camp, and they kept finding one more thing they wanted to do. They talked about whether they should tear down the lean-to, but couldn’t bring themselves to. It had been a refuge for them, a pleasant haven, and who knows? Sully wondered aloud. They might want it again sometime.

 With the mule already loaded and Michaela’s flowers hanging heads-down from the bridle, Sully took her hand and simply said, “Come.” He walked them to the meadow, but didn’t stop when they came to the flowers. Suddenly he began running, haltingly because of his ankle, but nevertheless running a few steps and pulling her along with him.

 She knew immediately what he was doing, emulating his action after she had sought him out to say she wanted to marry him, not David. So she was fully expecting it when he took her in his arms and whirled her in a circle. And she was fully expecting the warm kiss that awaited her when he stopped.

 But the kiss didn’t last long because they were laughing so hard. They drew back and looked at each other, and their laughter tapered off.

 “We have to leave, don’t we?” she said. “You know you want to get back to Katie and Brian.”

 “Oh, I do! But I can’t bear for this to be over.” “It’s not,” he said, “because we still have two more days—at least. But they will be spent mostly walking and not relaxing like we’ve been able to do here.”
 
 

 He turned then and gazed across the meadow, a brilliant rainbow of color in the morning sunshine. She slipped into the circle of his arm once again and rested her head against him. A sense of peace enveloped them, and they soaked it up as much as they could.

 His voice whisper soft, he said, “Makes me feel like marryin’ you all over again.”

 She thought a moment, then faced him and took his hands in hers. “Would you really marry me again? Even though I didn’t take your name, and even though I sometimes go on about things and often don’t notice how you feel—”

 He silenced her with his fingers on her lips. “Marryin’ you was the best thing I ever done. And, yes, I would do it again—a hundred times if necessary. What about you? Would you still marry me, even knowin’ that sometimes I’m gonna do things that don’t sit easy with ya, that I ain’t always gonna be there when ya need me?”

 “Oh, Sully, yes! Life without you would be more than I could bear! You’ve brought me so much joy, including our precious Katie.”

 Though their kiss began like a slow-motion pantomime, it became a seal and a pledge, a renewal of vows and promises they would spend their last breath to fulfill. Afterwards, they simply stood in the midst of the meadow, enfolded in each other’s arms, rocking gently as they absorbed the peace and beauty around them and savored deep in their spirits the love they had allowed to come to birth, despite a myriad of insurmountable obstacles.
 
 

 On this day, their progress on the trail was hampered from the rain of the day and night before. Patches of mud awaited them with almost every step, and all kinds of places were unexpectedly slippery. Before long Michaela’s boots were heavy with mud, making each step require more of her strength. And with his healing ankle, Sully had to be so vigilant with each step he took that he was not able to watch her as closely as he wanted to.

 Once again, it wasn’t long before they were forced to stop and rest. Sully talked to her about unloading the pack and leaving it to be retrieved later so she could ride the mule. She would not hear of it.

 So they rested and munched on the last of their biscuits and jerky. He cleaned her boots, even though he knew they would be muddy again in ten minutes. She convinced him to take off his boot and let her massage his ankle and foot for a few minutes.

 The next stretch went a little better because by then the midday sun was working earnestly to dry out the mud. But increased sunshine at the lower altitude meant increased heat once again. This time Michaela monitored herself more carefully, stopping frequently in some shady spot to take a drink and let her breathing catch up with her.

 They lost track of how many times they stopped, and Sully began to wonder seriously about whether they would have to give up reaching any hot springs before Michaela’s strength gave out. It was late afternoon when they finally arrived in the area where he believed he could find some. He settled her in the shade, tied the mule, and set out to reconnoiter.

 He returned a half hour later and found her dozing, her head against the tree. So he set out to find them some supper. With having had only biscuits and jerky all day, he knew they needed some substantial nourishment if they were to continue the trip successfully.

 When he came back with a plump rabbit, she was awake. “Come,” he said, extending his hand. “I found just what we need.”

 And he had. The spring was a small, bubbling pool surrounded by rocks not far from a wooded area. “Look,” he said, “I think we could make camp over there by the trees. Then we can have our supper and get cleaned up. How does that sound?”

 “It sounds wonderful, Sully, and the pool looks so inviting! I can’t wait to get my hair clean again, not to mention my clothes and the rest of me.”

 “I think it would be good to set up camp first. The water’s pretty hot, and after we get out, we might not feel like doin’ much. First thing we gotta do is get this rabbit cookin’. You feel like lookin’ for some firewood?”

 She was tired, more tired than she wanted to admit, but she had no intention of leaving all the work for him. After they had the rabbit roasting over a cheerful fire, they unloaded the mule and spread their blankets once again for a bed. Sully debated whether he needed to make a lean-to, but the sky had been cloudless all day.

 After they ate, Michaela gathered her soap and towel and they headed for the spring.

 “Is it gonna be okay to get your stitches wet?” he inquired.

 “It would be better not to, but I don’t know how I can avoid it.”

 “Want me to help you wash your hair?”

 “That would be great, Sully! Do you mind?”

 “I told you once you have the most beautiful hair I ever saw—helpin’ you wash it would be a pleasure,” he said as he peeled off his shirt. “Think ya might wanna take off your outside clothes first?”

 “Yes, and I want to wash them, too.”

 She sat on the rocks at the side of the pool and together they accomplished the task of washing her hair. The water was hotter than she had anticipated, and it stung the abrasions on her wrist. But when she finally got into it completely, it felt good.

 While she worked at washing herself and her dress, Sully stripped to his briefs and got in as well. The warmth was indeed welcome on his tired body and bruises. For several minutes, he simply relaxed, absorbed it, and enjoyed watching Michaela at work bathing and rinsing out her dress.

 When he dipped his head to wet his own hair, she said, “Come here and let me put some soap on it.”

 He came and squatted with his back to her, and she worked up a lather on his hair. Both were conscious of the intimacy of their setting. Sully thought, I’m gonna hafta bring her back here sometime when she isn’t injured and exhausted!

 When she finished lathering his hair, she yielded to the temptation to let her soapy hands slide down his neck and across his shoulders and back. Slowly he rose to his feet and turned toward her. Her hands never broke their touch and now continued their sensuous movements on his arms, then across his chest. They looked deep into each other’s eyes, and he bent to kiss her.

 Suddenly her hands stopped in mid-motion, and he saw her go white. “Sully . . .” she said in a wavery voice. “I feel . . . I feel . . .”

 He knew immediately what the problem was. She had been in the hot water too long. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her, dripping, to shore. “But—but I didn’t finish washing—”

 “That’s all the washin’ you’re gonna get for tonight. Maybe you can do some more in the mornin’ when the air is cool,” he said as he set her down and helped her sit on a rock.

 Despite her malaise, she couldn’t help grinning at the sight of him, so nearly naked but with his head full of suds. He saw her amusement and quickly returned to the pool.

 When they settled down later to sleep, they felt a deep relaxation throughout their bodies, almost a lassitude. Yes, Sully thought, savoring the fresh scent of her hair, the hot springs had been a good idea. It began slowly, gently, stirring around the edges of his dreams, drawing him, beckoning him into wakefulness.
 
 

 It was at first something strange, to be sure, and wholly unexpected, but something inviting and warm, something welcoming and—intimate! Just as that realization was startling him awake, he became aware that his lips were being caressed by the familiar contours of his wife’s mouth—and he was wide awake!

 Oh joy! Could it be? Despite weariness and injuries, his prim little Boston bride was seeking him out in the middle of the night, unabashedly stirring fires of passion she knew he had kept carefully banked all evening because of how poorly she was feeling. He needed no encouragement. All his senses were instantly awake, his pent-up desires ready to respond to her own which she was so eloquently expressing. A late-rising moon grinned broadly and slipped discreetly behind a cloud.

 SEVENTEEN

 A chorus of birds awoke Sully shortly after first light. Glancing at Michaela curled up asleep beside him, he wondered, had he dreamed last night? Oh, no! It had been real enough! Remembering, he lay watching his wife with a new sense of pleasure and awe.

 Before long, she stirred as well—and came fully awake when she realized his eyes were on her. Would she blush? She did not disappoint him, but neither did she turn shy maiden on him. Instead, she stretched luxuriously, like a silken kitten, and then once again gave him that sultry look with her eyebrows that had so turned his heart over when they returned from the mercury expedition.

 “Good morning,” she murmured.

 “Good mornin’ yourself.”

 She traced the outline of his lips with the tip of her finger. “I love the shape of your mouth,” she said softly. “It’s the most perfectly shaped mouth I’ve ever seen. And I love the things you do with it . . . .”

 He grinned, slightly embarrassed, captured her finger in his lips for a moment, then released it. “You surprised me last night,” he murmured.

 “I did?”

 “Most delightfully so!”

 “Then I shall have to do it again sometime.”

 “I certainly hope so!” They were quiet, listening to the birds and reflecting on their midnight pleasuring. The fact that both had been coming out of a sound sleep had given their loving an ethereal and dreamlike quality that made recalling it especially delicious. Yes, they would have to do it again sometime.

 It was she who broke the silence, saying softly, “I never realized, Sully, how much I needed a time like this, time with just the two of us.”

 “I knew I wanted it, Michaela, but even in my imagination I never dreamed it could be this special.” He met her gaze and held it.

 “I know what you mean,” she whispered, her gaze not wavering. “I feel the same way.”

 “But when we got hit by that rock slide, I was sure it was the worst idea I ever had!”

 The day was fast brightening around them, but they were not in a hurry to meet it. They knew they had a long day of walking ahead of them. After a moment she said, “Don’t you think that coming through something like this together has made it even more meaningful than if we had just had a pleasant time all along the way?”

 “It’s true tough times bond folks together more’n easy times, but I sure wasn’t lookin’ for anything like this to happen to us!”

 He sat up now and reached for his whittling. Michaela tried to study it. It was beginning to have some character, but she still couldn’t be sure what it looked like besides some kind of animal.

 He was quiet a long time. Finally she asked, “What are you thinking about, Sully?”

 “About this mountain . . . an’ how much I wanted to hate it.”

 “Why would you want to hate it?” She knew, of course, but she thought it would be good for him to put it in words.

 “That day, with you so bad hurt, I thought I would never want to look at this mountain again. But . . . I can’t hate it.”

 Now she too sat up. “We’ve had some really special times, haven’t we?”

 “That’s only part of it. Michaela, I can’t tell you what it meant to me to view the world from that mountain top—and to view it with you at my side.”

 She met the azure of his eyes with her own as she said softly, “That’s the other thing I never realized, Sully—how much more it would mean to me to reach the top with you.”

 Knowing how much such as admission cost her, he set his work down and simply opened his arms. Once again they indulged in one of those leisurely kisses they had almost forgotten how to enjoy in the multiple dimensions of their life in the valley.

 When they drew apart, she asked, “How do you say ‘I love you’ in Cheyenne?”

 He looked at her in surprise. “If I remember rightly, ‘nemehotatse’ is how you say it to just one person.”

 “Well, one person is all I want to say it to! Nemehotatse, Byron Sully, with all my heart.”

 She could tell he was touched. Now she found herself reflecting on the evening before when they had sat around the fire drying their hair after supper. “Sully,” she said now, “thank you for last evening, for your understanding . . . when . . . I knew . . . what you were wanting . . .”

 “Won’t deny I did,” he admitted, picking up his whittling again. “It’s just, you were so beautiful in the firelight . . . but I knew you weren’t feelin’ up to it.”

 “I’ve always appreciated that about you—that you never, ever press me . . . when . . .”

 He knew what she meant. “It ain’t that I mind when you’re not feelin’ like it,” he said, his eyes focused on the wood in his hands. Now he hesitated. Dare he speak his heart once more? He decided to risk it. “It’s when ya seem so preoccupied with other things—like they’re more important to ya than being with me. That’s when it’s hard for me to understand.”

 She had often wished for him to open his heart to her more. Now that he was doing it, she found it wasn’t easy to hear. But the love in her own heart and her gladness that he was doing it soothed the painful feelings and prevented angry ones from stirring up. She looked at him with her heart in her eyes, struggling for how to respond. Instead, he spoke again, the twinkle back in his eyes.

 “Anyway, about last night . . . you made it very worth waitin’ for!”

 “I’m glad,” she whispered. Her mind was already toying with other ways she might demonstrate how much she loved him. Thinking on them would certainly provide a pleasant and challenging past-time, she decided.

 But one of yesterday’s conversations still held her. “Sully? You remember our talk about being self-reliant or needing each other?”

 “Yup.”

 “I’m still thinking about that,” she said, hugging her knees and watching his strong, skillful hands at work. “I’m still trying to understand how it is in marriage. Is it okay to need each other, to rely on each other, even if it means you’re not being self-reliant?”

 “I think what marriage takes,” he said thoughtfully, “is a very fine balance. Sure, you gotta look out for each other and sometimes lean on each other. But you gotta do it without forgettin’ how do for yourself and without losin’ who ya really are inside.”

 “Is that possible?”

 “Gotta be, or folks wouldn’t still be gettin’ married.”

 “So it’s okay that we sometimes have serious differences?”

 “Wouldn’t be natural if we didn’t. So long as we pay a mind to how the other one feels and respect that, we’ll get through. “

 “And still love each other?”

“Nothing could ever change that,” he declared fervently.

Did you know I once asked Dorothy if it was ‘natural’ that I found myself wanting to be with you so much?”

 He looked up, surprised, and grinned. “What did she say?”

 “She assured me it was!”

 “So that’s why she was concerned about us after Katie was born!”

 “Concerned? How?” A scowl puckered Michaela’s forehead. “About us gettin’ back to . . . romance.”

 “Was she really?” She shook her head. “I have an idea that right now I know more about romance than dear Dorothy ever did!”

 Now she reached for the carving in his hands, and he released it to her. She studied it a moment, then exclaimed, “I know what it’s going to be—a raccoon!”

 “Very perceptive. I thought it would be a good reminder of one of our best memories.”

 “Just make sure you don’t tell the children the details of that memory!” she warned.

 “Wouldn’t think of it!”

 “I think when my flowers are dry, I’ll tie a bow on them and put them over the fireplace in our bedroom.”

 “Good idea. And we can put Mr. Coon on the mantle near them.” Then, “Michaela?”

 Why is it, she thought in wonder, that the very way he says my name can sound like an endearment?

 “Yes, Sully?”

 “Nemehotatse, my heartsong.”

 That required another kiss, a very lingering one—and would shortly have required much more than a kiss, except that the mule interrupted them with a loud snorting and reminded them of the day that lay awaiting.

 Now suddenly Michaela was abundantly eager to be reunited with Katie. She had been away from her family long enough! But not for anything would she trade the past six days.

 Some dried fruit was the only thing remaining of their food supply. As they munched on it and broke camp, she pondered the new insights she was acquiring on her life. She must become more attuned to her husband’s heart, more sensitive to what he was feeling. She wanted to take more initiative in showing him how much she loved him. And it was okay to rely on him, to need him sometimes—as long as, in the process, as she didn’t forget who she was. Of that she was sure there was no danger!

 As he put the finishing touches on the mule’s load, Sully’s pondering was not quite as profound. True, his heart was full of gratitude that he would be arriving home with his heartsong safe and—almost!—sound. But his mind somehow kept straying to recollections of this newly “enthusiastic” wife and how much he was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her.

 Whether they would ever get to do this kind of thing again, they could not tell, but these were memories they knew they would cherish forever. Now, stronger in body, refreshed in spirit, deeply renewed in their love and devotion to each other, they turned their faces toward home.

  THE END