"Well … aint ya?" he demanded again when Michaela did not reply.

She shrugged her shoulders dejectedly, maintaining their brisk pace.

"Well *I* am!" he exclaimed. "He couldn’ even remember her at first – what sort of doctor can’t even remember one of his patients, especially when she’s real sick!"

"Dr Musgrave has a large practice Sully – he said so," a subdued Michaela quietly rationalised.

"No excuse Michaela …. Myra’s real sick an’ ya had to explain her symptoms before he could even remember who she was …" Sully shook his head in angry wonder. "Then when he admitted he’d only bin in to see her twice since she took sick!! No wonder Adele was real quiet about him."

"He said that he felt he could do nothing more for her … that he had a lot of other patients who needed his time," murmured Michaela, trying to sort things out in her mind.

"Look at it this way," said Sully angrily. "Would *you* leave a patient you thought was dyin’, alone with her family without checkin’ on her regular?"

Michaela shook her head and murmured disconsolately, "No …"

"No!! an’ neither would most other doctors." Sully turned to Michaela to emphasise his point and was suddenly aware of the glimmer of tears in her eyes. His anger dissipated as quickly as it had boiled, as he perceived his wife’s distress. As they walked, he reached for her gloved hand and interlocked his fingers with hers. "I’m sorry Michaela … I just couldn’t believe that fella …."

Michaela grasped his hand tightly and slowed their pace a little. "To be truthful Sully … neither could I. I suppose I feel a little defensive because he’s a colleague." She turned her head, gave him a teary smile and waved a small packet of papers. "At least he gave me Myra’s records …. meagre as they are."

As they passed through a small treed park, blanketed with masses of dry, red and brown leaves which crackled as they were crushed underfoot, Sully drew her over to a wrought iron bench. When she was settled, with her woollen cape wrapped tightly around her against the cool November breeze, he asked, "Well … what are ya gonna do now?"

"I suppose I’ll have to start from scratch," she replied, as she unfolded the two pieces of paper provided by Dr Musgrave. She began to scan the contents, reading small portions out loud. "Patient – Myra Bing, age 28. Found unconscious by sister on floor, early evening….. Unable to determine how long she had been comatose…… Recovered consciousness 6.00am next day …… Severe paralysis of left side and faculties … no speech….. Patient had complained of headaches of increasing intensity for several days prior to collapse. ….. Further examination revealed minor abnormality in eyes….. Symptoms consistent with tumour in right side of brain …. Sudden onset of symptoms indicates probable rapid deterioration in condition …."

Michaela paused and raised her eyes to stare thoughtfully off into space. Sully watched anxiously but knew better than to disturb her. At last she glanced once more at the papers lying in her lap, folded them determinedly and then tucked them away in her medical bag.

"Now what Michaela? Do you think he was right?" inquired Sully.

"I couldn’t say Sully. His examination and follow up observations have been cursory at best … The symptoms he describes could indeed indicate a tumour, however his conclusion was reached quickly and hopefully prematurely. I think the best thing to do is to proceed with the half hourly tests and observations I mentioned yesterday. I’ll want to conduct them over at least a full twenty-four hour period … perhaps Horace and Adele will agree to doing them during the night when they can be conducted hourly. I’d have to train them in what I need, and the correct recording of the information."

"I don’ think you’ll have any problem there … they want Myra better as much as anyone," replied Sully, in awe of his wife’s knowledge and objectivity when it came to her practice of medicine. He drew her to her feet. "Come on then," he said encouragingly. "The sooner we start … the sooner we’ll know."

Mrs B ushered Michaela and Sully into Myra’s room and then quietly left, closing the door behind her. Horace turned sad, but welcoming eyes on them, from his seat beside the bed. Michaela’s eyes, however, were drawn to the tiny forlorn figure laying beside Myra, their fingers interlocked, her head resting against Myra’s shoulder. Four year old Samantha looked nothing like the happy little girl who had visited Colorado Springs with her ma just over a year before. All the sparkle had gone out of her and she was eyeing the intruders accusingly. Michaela’s heart went out to the confused, unhappy child. She cautiously approached the bed and sat beside the pair.

Horace said softly, "Samantha honey ….. do ya remember Dr Mike an’ Sully …. from Colorado Springs?"

The child’s expression did not alter, but her body tensed and she visibly tightened her grasp on her ma’s hand.

Michaela nodded understandingly at Myra who could do nothing but watch anxiously, and then addressed the frightened little girl. "Hello Samantha ….. you’ve grown quite a lot since I last saw you," she said gently, wanting desperately to put the child at ease. "I’ve come to see if I can do something for your ma ….. maybe you could help me with that …"

Samantha’s eyes widened but she remained silent.

"I need to find out what’s wrong with her," continued Michaela in a soft, low tone. "So the first thing I’m going to do is listen to her heart with this." She withdrew her stethoscope from her medical bag, positioned the earpieces, placed the stethoscope on Myra’s chest and listened intently, occasionally moving it to a different position.

The little girl observed all this avidly and some of the tension in her body appeared to ease.

"Would you like to listen?" asked Michaela, removing the earpieces and placing them on Samantha. When she placed the stethoscope on Myra’s chest and the little girl heard the heartbeat, her thickly lashed, brown eyes widened in wonder.

"Now the next thing to check is your ma’s eyes ….." Michaela informed the now very interested spectator.

From the doorway Sully watched as the sadness in Samantha’s eyes was gradually replaced by a glimmer of interest, a need to discover what this strange woman was doing to her ma. In next to no time, she was sitting up on her haunches and nodding as if she understood everything Michaela was doing. Sully shook his head in wonder and his heart filled to bursting with love for this woman who counted a tiny, confused four year old family member to be as important as the patient. The one disappointment was that, despite all Michaela’s efforts, the little girl remained silent. Sully wondered if Michaela had realised.

At last Michaela completed her preliminary examination and turned hesitantly to first Horace and then Sully. "Um …. Sully …. Horace …. I need to go further with my examination of Myra now ……" She nodded towards Samantha and then looked towards the door.

Sully realised at once what she meant and said to his friend, "Ah Horace …. You bin out this mornin’? ….Its cool but the sun’s out ……. How ‘bout we take Samantha down to the park …get some fresh air."

Horace, who had been silently observing the interaction between Samantha, Michaela and Myra, looked up at Sully in surprise. "Ah …..," he began.

"We could probably all do with some fresh air …. specially the little one," emphasised Sully.

Horace nodded and began to rise, offering his hand to his daughter. She eyed him sullenly, even suspiciously, and tucked her hand back into her ma’s. "Come for a walk with me?" asked Horace hopefully. Samantha turned her head away and buried her face in her ma’s shoulder.

Sully quietly approached the bed and sat down next to Michaela. "My little girl Katie loves ta go walkin’ with me ….," he said softly. "We have lotsa fun ….. Have ya seen all the autumn leaves in the park? And maybe there’s even some squirrels …. Mrs B might be able to find us some bread ta feed ‘em."

Samantha lifted her head and eyed him doubtfully, though the grasp on her ma’s hand eased a little. She turned to look into Myra’s eyes. Myra smiled and nodded, mutely urging her daughter to go.

"Maybe ya pa’ll even buy ya some ice-cream on the way home," suggested Sully. "Have ya ever had ice-cream with chocolate?" He looked at Michaela and smiled. "Dr Mike loves ice-cream …. don’ ya?" Michaela nodded and licked her lips in response. Sully reached out to gently ruffle the little girl’s light brown hair.

Samantha met his unwavering gaze and then her eyes swept uncertainly over all the adults grouped there together. Michaela said calmly and reassuringly, "I’ll look after your ma Samantha …. I promise …. And when you get back I’ll read to you both …. How does that sound?"

Again the confused little girl turned her eyes on her ma who nodded encouragingly. At last she seemed to come to a decision and placed her hand in her father’s still outstretched hand.

As Horace and Samantha left, Sully turned back to Michaela. "How long do ya need?" he asked softly.

"Only about half an hour," replied Michaela and then added, "But see how long you can keep her occupied … I think she needs some sunshine and fun …. She doesn’t understand what’s going on … She’s a very sad little girl at present."

Sully nodded in agreement and quietly exited the room, leaving his wife to practice her skills in determining Myra’s true and full condition.

"Ya should have seen her Michaela," chuckled Sully. He leaned back in his chair as a waiter filled his glass. As the waiter left he began again. "We took her down to that park … ya know …. the one we stopped at this mornin’ …… She just walked ‘round at first …. even though Horace tried to talk to her ….." He took a sip from his glass and picked up the dinner menu. "Then we each took a hand an’ began to swing her between us …. ya know …. like *we* do with Katie …..then she started to kick her legs an’ the next minute she was kickin’ leaves up into the air an’ even smilin’ …. She looked like a different kid …."

Michaela unfolded her table napkin and placed it in her rather diminished lap. "Samantha’s quite bewildered at the moment. All she knows is that her ma, who’s usually so vibrant and talkative …. is suddenly lying motionless in her bed, unable to do anything, especially hold her. I’m glad the two of you were able to get through to her … just a little this morning …," she said, as she too picked up the dinner menu and scanned the contents. "Mmmm …. ice-cream’s there again," she murmured with relish.

"You an’ Samantha make a good pair," smiled Sully. "On the way back to Myra’s we stopped at that confectionery just down the road …. Horace bought her a sundae …. I dunno whether she’d ever eaten ice-cream before …. ya wouldn’ have known it ….. she ate her way through it all …. enjoyed every mouthful." Sully went quiet for a moment and then said, "Did she say anythin’ durin’ the afternoon Michaela? Even though she was havin’ fun this mornin’ she still didn’ say anythin’."

Michaela shook her head sadly. "No … not a word ….." She looked up as a waiter approached their table and took their order. As he left, still writing on his notepad, she sighed. "I can’t decide whether I’m hungry or not …. Its been a *very* long day."

"Did ya come up with anythin’ on Myra Michaela ….. is it like Dr Musgrave said?" asked Sully anxiously.

Michaela shrugged her shoulders. "The data’s inconclusive. It doesn’t prove his diagnosis …. nor does it disprove it …. Its very puzzling ….. there are some contradictions …."

"So what next?"

"Well I’ll have to study the results of the observations and tests conducted by Adele and Horace during the night …..and …." Again she shrugged her shoulders. "Then we’ll have to see …" She suddenly winced and straightened in her chair.

"You alright Michaela?" asked Sully immediately.

"Mmmm … I’ll be fine …. Must’ve been the way I was sitting by Myra’s bed all day. My back aches and the baby’s restless …" she replied wearily, momentarily resting her hands on her hips and twisting her back from side to side.

"After we’ve eaten we’ll head upstairs an’ I’ll rub it for ya," said Sully softly. He reached out and rested his hand over hers. "Gotta look after you two …. not just Myra …."

Michaela smiled and turned her hand in his to squeeze it gently. "That’d be nice …..*after* my ice-cream," she chuckled determinedly.

Sully chuckled along with her and nodded his agreement.

Michaela lay down on the bed, half on her stomach and half on her side, her legs bent, and Sully sat on his heels on the mattress behind her. "Where’s it achin’?" he asked as he slowly ran his hands down her bare back.

"Down low to about half way up," replied Michaela softly, her voice muffled by the feather pillow.

"Uh huh," murmured Sully, as he began to gently massage her back, kneading the muscles.

Michaela moaned softly as the seemingly perpetual ache gradually eased.

"Seein’ ya like this brings back nice memories," mused Sully softly. "You were so beautiful …. even though you were real sick …"

Michaela turned puzzled eyes on him.

Not prone to blushing, Sully dropped his eyes and perhaps reddened just a little. He continued his soothing ministrations. "I shouldna watched I know ….. couldn’ help myself ….," he whispered, half to her and half to himself.

Michaela again looked at him. "When?" she asked a little hesitantly.

"When ya had the grippe …. Everyone thought you were dyin’ …. Emily an’ Olive were tryin’ ta bring ya fever down …..I came to the door an’ saw ya …. You looked so beautiful an’ ….. an’ …. defenceless."

Michaela buried her head in the pillow and thought back. "That was only just after I arrived in Colorado Springs," she mused. "We hardly knew each other."

"I reckon we knew each other enough …… enough to know ….."

"To know what?" asked Michaela, sure of what his reply would be.

"To know that we had a future …. that there was somethin’ between us that was gonna effect our lives from then on….," rejoined Sully with a smile and a light kiss on each shoulder blade. "Even if neither one of us wanted to recognise it."

Michaela did not respond except to reach back and grasp his hand and pull it forward to rest it against her cheek.

"Made a promise to Brian when you were so sick," continued Sully in a low, sensuous tone . "Told him I wouldn’ let ya die …. Didn’ tell him I couldn’na gone on if ya had ….." He again leant forward to place loving kisses to her back.

Michaela slowly turned onto her back to look into his loving eyes and then she gently drew him forward to lie beside her, his head against her breast. She began to run her fingers through his long, sun-bleached hair as he caressed the swell of her stomach. She murmured softly, "I miss home Sully …. I know its only been a few days …. but I miss Katie … and Brian …. I find myself wondering what’s going on at home that I’m not there for … I miss being with you in our bed, with all the people and things around us that mean the most."

Sully raised himself up a little and captured her lips with his for a long, leisurely, compelling kiss. After the kiss ended he settled back into his former position and said reassuringly, "Won’t be long Michaela … we gotta believe that ya gonna find out what’s wrong with Myra an’ do somethin’ to help her git better …. then we can head home … I miss ‘em too … but I’m glad we’re here together …"

Michaela ran her fingers lovingly down his cheek to his shoulder and then back. "I’m glad too," she said softly, as she drifted off to asleep.

Sully was aware of the cold, early morning air first, followed by a quiet but insistent knocking on the door of their hotel room. He reached forward to grasp the blankets and pull then up over his wife who was still sleeping peacefully, and then clambered out of bed and into his buckskins. Surprised at the early hour of their caller, he tentatively pulled the door open. Standing unsurely in the doorway was Adele.

"I’m sorry to disturb ya so early Mr Sully," she said apologetically. "But I haveta get to work …. Start at six ….. Wanted ta tell Dr Mike how Myra is …."

Reluctant to wake Michaela, Sully glanced back, only to see that she was already out of bed and pulling on her robe. She ran her fingers through her long, night-tangled hair and approached Adele.

"Has something happened to Myra?" she asked anxiously.

"No … she’s just the same …. well almost just the same ….. Horace an’ me did the things ya wanted us to do durin’ the night Dr Mike….. Horace is with her now. I just wanted to let ya know that she tried to talk this mornin’ …. Couldn’ work out what she said but it sounded different to before …. like her real voice …. Does that make sense?" asked Adele earnestly.

"Of course it makes sense Adele …. any progress is a good sign ….. we’ll have some breakfast and then go right along," replied Michaela calmly.

Adele nodded gratefully. "You’ll never know what it means ta have ya here," she said quietly. "Even if it turns out bad, its bin real important to Myra …. an’ me …. ta know that ya cared enough to come ….."

Michaela moved closer to Sully. "Myra is our friend Adele … has been for quite a few years now …. I’m glad we’re able to do something for her. Don’t give up …. we’ll find out what’s wrong with her …. Now you get on to work and we’ll se you late this afternoon … alright?"

Adele reached for Michaela’s hand. "Thanks so much Dr Mike." She turned to acknowledge Sully. "Sully …" Then she slowly walked away down the hallway watched sympathetically by her new friends.

Michaela and Sully were sitting on the same wrought iron bench in the windswept park where they’d sat for a short while the day before. Sully had used all his skills of persuasion to finally convince Michaela that she would benefit from some fresh air, after several more hours spent with Myra. She was now carefully studying all the data collected during the last twenty-four hour period and shaking her head in bafflement.

"I feel like I’m missing something Sully," she said dispiritedly. "Dr Musgrave expected rapid deterioration …. and there are so many symptoms she exhibits which back up that diagnosis …. But there is *no* deterioration …. In fact …. in a few minor ways there is actually improvement. If it is a rapidly growing tumour then those improvements wouldn’t ……. shouldn’t …..occur." Again she shook her head.

"Maybe ya should take a break from it Michaela …. do somethin’ new …. Like we could take a walk up to Shaw’s Gardens … or maybe walk along the river path, or take a carriage ride," suggested Sully.

Michaela grasped his hand and squeezed it gratefully. "I need to concentrate on it Sully ….. work things through in my mind …."

"Alright …. alright ….. but …. maybe ya need to consult with someone about it …. talk it through ….. How does any doctor some up with the right answer? …. Ya can’t keep all that knowledge in ya head," queried Sully with concern.

"No … you’re right ….. I suppose I’d normally consult all my texts ….. maybe talk it through with someone … that’s why I like having Andrew around now ….. And of course call on my experience …. think of other patients who have exhibited the same symptoms ….. compare cases …." She trailed off and her brow creased in concentration as she thought back.

"Well … *have* ya ever had a patient with the same symptoms Michaela? Can ya remember anyone?" probed Sully.

"Well … some of the symptoms ….. but they were all ……" She stopped suddenly and her eyes opened wide in realisation. She began shuffling through the papers in her lap. Eventually she turned to Sully and exclaimed, "My God Sully …. its not a tumour …. In fact, if I’m right, there’s every possibility she’ll recover." She scrabbled around in her medical bag and produced a pad and pencil. She quickly scribbled a note, tore the page from the pad and handed it to him. "Sully … I need you to go to Dr Musgrave’s office … see if he has copies of the American Medical Society journals from early this year. I need the one with *that* article …." She nodded towards the paper Sully was studying.

He immediately rose to his feet, folded the paper and placed it in his pocket.

"And please …. I know you don’t like the man …. But I may need to consult with him …. so please just ask him for the journal," she pleaded.

Sully gave her a wry smile. "I’ll behave myself Michaela …. anythin’ to help Myra get well ….. but don’ expect me to be sociable." He bent down to give her a quick kiss and strode off down Olive Street.

Myra’s eyes opened even wider and she gave Michaela a lop-sided smile.

Michaela hastened to add, "It *is* serious … there’s no denying that …. but I’m almost certain its treatable … that you *will* recover."

Myra opened her mouth and desperately tried to say something but all that emerged was a guttural "Mmmphhh" and a long sigh.

Michaela gently brushed the dark hair back off her patients’s forehead with her fingertips and murmured, "I know its hard Myra ….. but if I’m right … we’ll start working on your problems right away…… your speech and movement… If *I* have anything to do with it … you’re going to much better shortly."

A solitary tear rolled silently down the younger woman’s cheek.

"Hey …. there’ll be none of that sweetheart," consoled Michaela. "You’re going to have to be very strong and very determined if you want to recover." She gently wiped away the tear. "Now I’ve asked Sully to collect something for me from Dr Musgrave’s office and as soon as he gets back I’m going to check on the data …. make sure I’m on the right track …. Meanwhile ….."

Michaela’s reassurances were interrupted by a light tapping at the bedroom door and Horace peeked around and into the room. "Is it alright for me an’ Samantha to come in Dr Mike?" he asked anxiously, his eyes alighting on Myra in her customary prone position in the middle of the large bed.

"Certainly Horace … come in," said Michaela with a smile. "In fact … you can give me a hand. I want to sit Myra up this afternoon and … um ….." She rested her hand on her swollen stomach. "It’s a little difficult for me to help her do that at the moment."

Horace’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Sit up?!" he exclaimed. "Is that alright?"

"I believe so …. we’ll soon find out," replied Michaela cheerfully. She turned back to Myra and said quietly and reassuringly. "Now Horace will grasp you under one arm, and me under your other, and then we’ll lift. You let us know if there is any pain at all … especially your head … alright?"

Horace scurried around to the other side of the bed and gently placed his comparatively strong arms around Myra, imitating Michaela’s position on her other side. Together they gently drew her up into a sitting position.

Four year old Samantha had been keenly watching these goings-on from the foot of the bed, but when she saw her ma sitting up for the first time in many days with no apparent ill-effects, she immediately hopped up onto the bed and cuddled against her. Myra’s right arm came around to embrace her daughter.

Michaela was watching Myra’s face anxiously, seeking any signs of pain or light-headedness. Initially her patient’s face had paled a little, but now her colour was returning and she was even smiling. "Any pain?" asked Michaela.

Myra shook her head slowly.

"Good ….," said Michaela with satisfaction. Then she turned to Horace. "Now Horace … I want you to listen carefully …. If Myra’s condition is truly what I believe it to be, there is a lot that you, Adele, Mrs B and even Samantha can do to help her recover."

Horace immediately sat himself on the small stool beside Myra’s bed and prepared to concentrate on what Dr Mike had to say.

"I don’ get it Michaela …. apop ….. apop …… what is it …. an’ what does it mean?" exclaimed Sully in puzzlement. He and Michaela were strolling through Shaw’s Garden, one of the most beautiful sights in St Louis though, at the moment, neither of them had any interest in the extraordinary range of exotic flowers and plants on display in this man-made Garden of Eden.

"Apoplexy Sully …. It means a sudden bleeding into the brain …. The accumulation of blood destroys the part of the brain with which it comes into contact .. thereby effecting speech, movement etcetera," explained Michaela patiently.

"Then if that part of the brain is destroyed, Myra’ll never walk an’ talk again?"

"No … we’re unsure as to what actually happens, but it seems that either the effected part regenerates … or another part of the brain takes over and relearns the skills needed. Its going to take some time … and a lot of effort …. but she should make an almost full recovery," explained Michaela.

"Have ya seen this happen many times before?"

"No …. not in someone so young … that’s why I asked you to find that particular issue of the American Medical Society journal yesterday afternoon …. There’s been a lot of research done in this field during the last couple of years, especially in Germany. Apparently strokes have often been misdiagnosed in younger patients because they’re unexpected."

"Strokes! You mean like Loren had?"

"Well … yes ….. the condition Myra has is very similar to what happened to Loren."

"I thought only older people had strokes," remarked Sully wonderingly.

"Yes … for a long time so did the medical profession. Now its been realised that its quite possible for a younger person to have a stroke … though its generally thought to be due to different reasons …"

Sully unobtrusively steered Michaela towards a rustic wooden bench set between two huge hawthorn trees and fronting a picturesque pond inhabited by a large variety of noisy ducks. "Different reasons?" he queried.

"Well … in older people its thought that their lifestyle probably contributes towards the weakening of the blood vessels. In Germany they’re even doing research as to whether excessive alcohol intake may contribute."

"And in younger people?"

"Well it seems that a younger person is more likely to have been born with the weakness in the blood vessel wall … and that sometime during their life that weakness may give way."

Sully sat down on the bench and drew Michaela down beside him. She wrapped her cape closer around her against the brisk air. "Of course, the weakness may never be a problem …. there’s just no way to tell."

"Well I know ya started Myra on a whole lotta exercises late yesterday … what’s next?" asked Sully, shaking the toe of his boot warningly at an inquisitive mallard who had waddled just a little too close.

"For the next few days all of us will help with her exercises … almost constantly … she’s going to get very tired … but we have to teach her brain how to do things she used to be able to do without thinking …."

As Michaela outlined all the plans she had for their friend, Sully found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. He watched intently as her cheeks flushed in the brisk, fall breeze and her eyes sparkled with the excitement of the new challenge presented to her. There was an enthusiastic lilt to her voice which was arousing. This was the Michaela Sully loved – the fire in her heart and spirit reflected in her eyes, fuelled by the satisfaction of knowing she had found the answer. He was in awe of her knowledge, her determination to succeed, her drive to help their friend heal. His hands itched to hold her close - he sidled towards her, and then turned his back to the pond to face her. She was talking animatedly of routines, diet, rosters, but Sully barely heard her words, although his focus was on her and her alone. Suddenly, he could hold back no longer and leant forward to claim her lips with his.

Michaela, taken unawares, at first responded to Sully’s kiss, and then, remembering where they were, blushed and pulled back. "Sully!" she exclaimed. "Someone might see us!"

He smiled lovingly at her and then cast a careless eye over their beautiful surroundings. "Aint no-one around Michaela …. ‘sides aint no sin ta kiss my wife …’specially when she looks as beautiful as she does at the moment." He reached out to tenderly cup her face with his hand.

Bess, or the old birdlady as her neighbours called her, shuffled painfully through the carpet of dry, russet leaves towards her customary bench in Shaw’s Garden. She paused for a moment and alternately flexed each stiff and sore knee. The cooler weather always made her rheumatism act up. In her gnarled hand she carried a large, crumpled, brown paper bag which contained breadcrumbs and food scraps for the ducks and birds which would be eagerly awaiting her arrival. She looked up as she neared the pond and then stopped short. Her bench was occupied! She snorted with disgust. Occasionally, very occasionally, strangers would intrude on her secret world, but she hadn’t expected anyone today with the air so cool.

She contemplated the young, no not so young couple, sitting close together on the bench. A rather pretty woman, five to six months pregnant by the look of it, and blossoming in the process - her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. She had her blue cape drawn close around her against the cold and was talking animatedly to the young man, whilst gazing out over the pond, her eyes unseeing. The man was definitely an out of towner going by his strange, fringed leather garb and heavy boots, and he had eyes only for the woman beside him. A secret assignation perhaps? Were these two lovers who could only meet when the time and circumstance was right, when her husband or perhaps his wife were unaware?

The man swivelled on the bench so that he faced the young woman who continued her ruminations, but unconsciously mirrored his movement and angled herself to face him. He reached out and placed a loving hand on the woman’s stomach, caressing her. Bess had to think again. A secret lover was unlikely to be so possessive of the woman’s unborn child, unless, of course, it was his.

The man, his hair glinting copper in the weak fall sun, was now smiling endearingly at whatever his friend, lover, wife was saying and he leant forward, even closer to her as if drawn by a magnet. Suddenly he could restrain himself no longer and abruptly halted her chatter by kissing her fervently. Bess smiled and wondered. The young woman pulled back a little and blushed embarrassedly, murmuring something in response to his kiss. He chuckled and glanced furtively around, obviously reassuring her that they were alone. His quick glance missed Bess standing in the shadows of the tall hawthorn.

His focus returned to the young expectant mother beside him and he reached out to cup her face, to run his fingertips along her jawline and across her full lips. She smiled shyly and dropped her eyes to his loving hand resting against her. Again he leant forward to claim those lips. Bess gasped softly as the kiss between the two suddenly deepened and the woman leant enthusiastically in towards him instead of pulling away. There was a prolonged, intense interplay of tongues and sensuous movement of lips and then the pair reluctantly parted to rest their foreheads against each other’s, breathing deeply.

Bess self-consciously placed her hand over her mouth and dropped her eyes to a very large, brown leaf at her feet. She all of a sudden felt like a peeping-tom and didn’t like it. She shook herself. Whoever these two were, it was they who should feel uncomfortable, behaving like that in public, not she. Her eyes were drawn to them again. They had straightened and were merely sitting, gazing adoringly into each others’ eyes. The man leant forward again to whisper something into the woman’s ear. Her smile broadened and her hand came up to lovingly cup his face. Sunlight glinted on her wedding and engagement rings and suddenly Bess knew, as if it had been stated out loud, that these were not two lovers participating in some secret rendezvous. They were devoted husband and wife, she would stake her life on it.

Bess took a backward step as the man rose from the bench and drew his wife up to stand before him. He pulled her into a brief embrace and then, placing his arm tenderly and yet possessively around her waist, he began to lead her away. The woman’s arm wound itself around his waist also, as if by habit, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

Bess sighed as she watched the two of them stroll away into the distance, and for perhaps the first time in more than twenty years, a painful stab of loneliness and even longing made her heartbeat quicken and her breath catch. As the couple rounded a bend in the stone path and disappeared from sight behind a yew hedge, she shrugged her shoulders, closed her eyes for a brief moment, took a deep, steadying breath and then turned towards the recently vacated bench, to be greeted by a cacophony of primal sounds from the dozens of birds waiting to have their hunger appeased.

Nearing the elaborate, black wrought iron gate entrance to the gardens, Michaela stopped by a large, rambling rose still in late flower. She buried her nose in a scarlet bloom and inhaled deeply. "Isn’t it beautiful Sully?" she asked wonderingly. "Do you think we could plant a rosebush at home? Would it grow?"

Sully eyed her indulgently. "Reckon it might." He moved closer and also inhaled the heady scent. "Wish I could pick it for ya … always thought roses suited ya best … especially deep red like this one …. kinda strong …. an’ passionate …" His eyes narrowed seductively.

Michaela blushed and a shy smile appeared on her face. Then she chuckled. "Well you can’t pick this one …. you’d be arrested. I’m glad you brought me here …. so much beauty in one place …. I wonder what prompts a man to create something like this …. just for people to enjoy …. There’s no profit to be made."

"Depends on what ya regard as profit," remarked Sully knowingly. "If Henry Shaw was watchin’ ya now I reckon he’d be seein’ a profit ….. you fit in real well with his beautiful plants an’ flowers."

Michaela walked back into his embrace. "You make me feel so special Sully …. Even when I’ve been feeling fat and more than a little tired." She caressed the swell of her stomach. "But for all this beauty and the sights of St Louis I can’t wait to go home …. to see our family and friends again. I miss Katie so …"

"Mmm .. me too," rejoined Sully. "What happens next Michaela? How long do we need to stay with Myra?"

"Well I feel as if I can’t just walk out without seeing some improvement. And there’s no saying how long that will take." She dropped her head in thought. "It struck me last night that the very best place for Myra right now would be Colorado Springs," she mused.

"Why’s that? Cos of Horace? Us?"

"No …. because of the Chateau and the hot springs," replied Michaela decisively. "Myra is just the sort of patient that the Chateau is ideally built for … the rehabilitation facilities … the springs …. Utilised properly, the Chateau, and proper medical care, could enhance her recovery threefold." Again her eyes focussed on something far off and she became lost in thought. At last she said regretfully, "But such treatment would be far beyond Myra’s means …. or ours ….. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of some way we could help her."

She was startled out of her reverie by Sully who suddenly pulled her in close and hugged her tight. She looked up into his face to observe that there was an excited sparkle in his eyes and a secretive smile on his lips. "Sully?" she asked, bemused.

He stepped back from her a little and delved his hand deep into his jacket pocket. Then suddenly he withdrew it, disclosing its contents with a flourish. A thick wad of bills fluttered in his hand.

"Sully!" exclaimed Michaela. "Where did that come from?"

"Hank," replied Sully with a smirk.

"Hank?!"

"Yep …. gave it to me the day we were leavin’ to come here. Said I was to pay our hotel bill an’ for anythin’ Myra might need …," Sully informed her. "Do you think this’d be enough to cover it … at least for a little while?"

"I can’t believe it!" exclaimed Michaela. "Just when I start to think I understand that man a little … he does something like this …." She reached out to thumb her way through the wad. "Should go well towards her rehabilitation … at least for a couple of weeks. Why would he do something like that?"

"Maybe it was his way of payin’ the doctor’s bills … He still cares for Myra … always has an’ probably always will …. But he don’ like anyone knowin’ it, ‘specially Horace," said Sully. "We do have a problem though …. How are we gonna explain to Horace that Myra should come back to Colorado with us, an’ that she can afford to stay at the Chateau? ….. Hank said Horace wasn’ to know about the money."

"Leaving St Louis 9.00am Thursday. Arrive CS 5.00pm Friday. Myra and Samantha travelling with us. Our love to all, Ma and Pa."

Katie turned suddenly excited eyes on her big brother and then peered anxiously around, squirming on Kathleen’s lap. "Ma …. Pa …," she called excitedly.

Kathleen gave her a gentle hug and kissed the top of her head. "Not yet Katie darlin’," she said consolingly. "Just a few more days and they’ll be home."

Katie turned puzzled eyes on the young woman who held her. "No home?" she asked disappointedly.

Kathleen shook her head and reiterated, "Not yet … soon."

The little girl’s lip began to tremble, as it had been prone to do for a couple of days now with little notice. Again Kathleen hugged her securely against herself. She suggested quietly, "How about we take Michael for a walk in his pram after lunch if Grace says its alright? Colleen might even come with us." Kathleen turned pleading eyes on her new friend sitting beside her.

Colleen immediately understood. "I’d love to come," she said, gently running her fingertips down the soft skin of Katie’s cheek.

The little girl turned forlorn eyes on her sister and merely nodded resignedly.

Colleen and Kathleen exchanged worried glances over the top of the little one’s head.

Matthew reached across and picked up to the two discarded telegrams. "What about these Brian?" he asked pointedly.

The young man blushed and murmured, "Oops .. I forgot … one’s for Andrew and one’s for Kathleen." He handed them to the two intended recipients.

Andrew immediately tore open his wire and perused it carefully. He raised his head and addressed his young wife. "Seems Myra’s suffered apoplexy. There’s no tumour. She’s going to need extensive rehabilitation. Michaela’s asked me to reserve a room for both Myra and Samantha at the Chateau, as close as possible to the hot springs."

"Apoplexy … what’s that?" questioned the ever inquisitive Brian.

Andrew took a deep breath and launched into a layman’s explanation of apoplexy, its causes and treatment.

Unbeknownst to the family sitting altogether at their table in the caf�, they had a very interested and concerned audience at a nearby table. One which, if the truth be known, absorbed much more from Andrew’s explanation than did any of those to whom he was speaking. The rangy barkeep dropped his eyes to his full coffee cup and listened attentively to Andrew’s discourse, so attentively that the cigar he absent-mindedly rolled between his thumb and forefinger went out, and his coffee cooled. As the discussion of Myra’s condition concluded, he sighed, pushed aside his tepid coffee, squashed his fifty cent cigar under his heel and sauntered back towards the Gold Nugget, his brow creased in thought.

Matthew turned to Kathleen. "You aint opened your telegram yet," he gently reminded her.

Kathleen regarded him with a look as forlorn as the one on Katie’s face. "I know who it’ll be from … and I know what it’ll say," she murmured ruefully.

Matthew nodded knowingly and gave her hand a quick, sympathetic squeeze under the table.

"Look Sully!" exclaimed Michaela as she halted to stare agog into a St Louis shop window. "Wouldn’t Katie love to be let loose in there!"

Sully moved in close beside her and chuckled when he saw the shop’s wares. "Mmmm … wouldn’t she," he said wryly. "We’d never git her out."

Arranged in the window in such a way as to catch the eye and the imagination, was a collection of children’s toys, mostly painted wood or metal - large and small, simple and intricate. Rocking horses, train sets, building blocks, bows and arrows, dolls of every shape and design, and a variety of stuffed toys all vied for attention in the eye-catching display.

The couple stood for a moment contemplating the array, their imagination and longings rendering them silent. At last Sully said with a slight smile, "Ya wanna go in?"

Michaela nodded and grasped his hand, drawing him into the store’s dim interior. Inside was a cluttered wonderland of playthings for children of all ages. Hand in hand they wandered slowly around the store, fingering expensive trifles, exploring the intricacies of a collection of complicated, moving toys and gadgets and oohing and aahing at those they knew would appeal to Katie and even Brian. As time wore on, Michaela repeatedly returned to a large doll, almost as tall as Katie, its face, hands and feet made of delicately painted porcelain, its body soft and pliant. It wore a pretty blue, floral pinafore over a white, high-necked, lace-edged blouse, and real black leather shoes.

Sully was watching her and noted her wistful expression. "She’d love it huh?" he asked softly.

"Uh huh."

"Expensive?"

"Uh huh."

"Its Christmas in a couple of weeks," Sully commented sotto voce.

Michaela’s eyes flew up to meet his. "But we usually try to give the children something we’ve made ourselves," she reasoned. "We’ve deliberately kept Christmas simple."

"I know, but we could make an exception this year ….. we’ve bin gone a while …. Nothin’ wrong with makin’ this Christmas a little more special. We could git somethin’ nice for all the kids," suggested Sully, his eyes sparkling.

Michaela’s face broke out in a wide smile. "They’d love it!" she exclaimed. "But we only have a few days left to find something for everyone."

"We’ll manage …. startin’ right here," he said softly, as he reached across and lifted the doll down from its display stand. "Now what about Brian? I think I saw somethin’ over here …."

The next half hour was happily spent debating the purchase of an extensive compendium of games, or a model of a large three masted ship for Brian. At last the model won out with the notion that Brian could work on it with Sully at night after supper. As Michaela moved towards the counter with their purchases, Sully lingered in a corner which displayed a variety of simple, wooden and soft toys.

"Sully?" called Michaela softly. When he didn’t reply she placed their purchases on the counter, smiled apologetically at the storekeeper and walked across to stand beside her husband. "What are you looking at?" she asked .

"We forgot one member of our family," he replied quietly.

She looked up at him, her brow creased in puzzlement. "Who?"

Sully reached out and placed his hand lovingly on her stomach. "Wouldn’ want this little one feelin’ left out," he said with a wry chuckle.

Michaela covered his hand with hers. "It’ll be a long time before this one even knows what that means …. and by then this Christmas will be a distant memory …" She looked up into his eyes. "You’re just looking for an excuse to spoil our baby," she teased. Her eyes followed the direction of his. "What did you have in mind?"

Sully shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I dunno," he said very casually. He stooped and picked up a simple, but beautifully crafted and painted, wooden train engine and matching carriage. "Maybe this …. Brian loved trains when he was little."

Michaela looked at him in astonishment, unsure as to how to respond. After some moments she said softly, "We don’t know whether it’s a boy or not Sully …. What if its not?"

Again he shrugged his shoulders. "Don’ matter … a girl could play with a toy like this anyway ….. But if ya don’ like it we could find somethin’ else …."

Afraid that there may be more to Sully’s simple request than she understood, Michaela said reassuringly, "If that’s what you’d like to get … its alright with me …. Its beautifully made."

"Yeah it is …. we’ll buy it … alright?"

Michaela nodded, her mind racing. Now was not the time, but later, when they were alone, she’d talk to him about the baby and the train. Was he counting on her producing a son? She swallowed nervously and tried to put the thought out of her mind. The last thing in this world she wanted was to disappoint him.

Having paid for their purchases, they turned towards the door to depart. And again Sully halted. He slowly ran his hand along the smooth, painted lines of a large blue rocking horse which sat just inside the doorway. "Always wanted ta make one of these for Katie but somethin’ always came up … got in the way," he mused. For a moment their minds simultaneously went back to last Christmas Eve when Sully, after months of hiding, had at last returned home a free man, too late to contribute much towards Christmas gifts for the children. Michaela momentarily grasped his clenched fist. Then Sully added thoughtfully, "Course … I made one years ago …. smaller an’ red ..… remember?"

Michaela blushed and lowered her eyes to the polished wooden floor. "Uh huh," she murmured.

"Ya gave it away didn’ ya?" he asked, his brow creasing as he strived to remember.

Michaela nodded, hoping that he would soon lose interest in the subject.

"Who to?" he asked casually. "Don’ remember seein’ anyone we know with it …"

"Just someone who needed it …," she replied just as casually. How would Sully react if she was to tell him the true story?

Sully turned puzzled eyes on his wife whose face was flushed and whose eyes were fixed nervously on the floor. After all these years he could sense right away when she was hiding something and this was definitely one of those times. But he also knew that if he pushed her he’d never hear the whole story, whatever it was. He shrugged his shoulders. He’d bring the subject up again later, see if she’d tell him about it, what had really happened. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and they strolled out into the brisk air to return to their hotel.

"How does that feel Myra? Warm enough?" asked Michaela, as she tucked the colourful rug more tightly around Myra’s legs.

The younger woman nodded and smiled.

Michaela rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder and then moved back to walk beside Sully who was steering the push-chair. She linked her arm through his and they continued their stroll along Olive Street towards Shaw’s Garden.

Having determined that Myra should return with them to Colorado Springs for her rehabilitation, and having gained the agreement of both Myra’s sister Adele, and Horace, Michaela decided that initially Myra should be gradually re-introduced to the world outside her tiny row-house. After all, the train trip to Colorado Springs was going to be long and arduous, and not a little daunting for a woman who had been seriously ill and inactive for a prolonged period of time. They’d begun by procuring an old push-chair from a colleague of Dr Musgrave’s (who had been suitably chagrined at his misdiagnosis) and taken Myra, and consequently Samantha who wouldn’t let her ma out of her sight, for short strolls around their neighbourhood. With each outing they had gradually increased the time outdoors.

Of course there was a dual purpose to this afternoon’s even longer expedition. Michaela had developed an all-consuming craving for ice-cream! Throughout their time in St Louis Sully had humoured her by ensuring that they always dined where ice-cream was on the menu, and their afternoon walks down to the river, through Shaw’s Garden, or window-shopping on Second, were always punctuated by a stop at their favourite confectionary where Michaela could indulge herself. Now it had suddenly occurred to her that their return to Colorado Springs the day after tomorrow would put an end to this indulgence and she was unsure as to how she was going to cope!

At last they arrived at the confectionary where, by now, the staff knew them on sight. Horace, with an excited Samantha clinging to his hand, held the heavy door open for them. Sully ushered Michaela through in front of Myra in her chair, and then took a step forward, only to catch an unexpected movement out of the corner of his eye. He swivelled to his right in time to see an old woman stumble forward and then lay sprawled, unmoving, on the sidewalk.

Calling urgently to Michaela, Sully relinquished the handles of the push-chair and rushed towards the woman, his heart pounding. As he neared, her leg moved and she lifted her head a few inches from the brick surface on which she’d collapsed. He unconsciously sighed in relief. He stooped down and gently placed his hands on her shoulders just as Michaela arrived at his side.

"Don’t move her Sully … not until we find out a little more," instructed Michaela. She squatted down beside the woman and gently brushed back the stringy, steel grey hair to peer into her old, ashen face. "Are you hurt?" she asked anxiously.

The woman, who was gradually regaining a little colour, shrugged her shoulders and struggled to sit up. "Leave me be," she said tersely. "Its nothing." She reached up to gingerly touch her forehead which bore an oozing graze where it had scraped against the rough path. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

"Well I think you need some attention," said Michaela adopting her most authoritative tone. "You’ve bumped your head, your knees are grazed and we should determine what made you fall in the first place."

The little, old woman’s eyes remained closed against the pain, but her lips pursed and she sat up straighter there on the footpath. "And who might *you* be?" she demanded. "Telling me what I can and can’t do…." She humphed indignantly and raised her dazed eyes to her unwanted good samaritans. Immediately recognising the couple who were regarding her anxiously, Bess’s expression softened - just a little. The young pregnant lady was in green today, a jaunty matching green hat atop her copper hair, but the man wore the same tan buckskins. She’d have recognised them anywhere!

"I’m a doctor … Dr Michaela Quinn," explained Michaela reassuringly. "And this is my husband Sully."

Despite the indignity of sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, her hat askew, her old, brown coat gaping open, her stockings torn and her head and knees bleeding, Bess smiled - just a little. She’d been right! They *were* husband and wife! And a mighty fine looking couple at that, even if she did say so herself. As the pain from her knees penetrated her consciousness she moaned and her gruffness returned. "Well, whoever you are, I’ll be fine in a minute, thank ye for your concern but its not necessary …. Just a touch of rheumatism … always acts up in the cold …. You can just go about your business …" she instructed them.

"And if I did that I’d never forgive myself," returned Michaela gently. "Please let us help you … even if its just getting you to your feet and seeing to those ugly grazes."

Sully, who had been silently listening to this exchange and who had also noted the oh so brief softening in the woman’s features, stepped a little closer and offered his hand. "I’d be pleased to assist you ma-am," he said gallantly.

Bess looked up into his caring, deep blue eyes and abruptly gave in. She tentatively placed her hand in his and flexed her thin, painful legs. Again fiery pain made her gasp and she bit her lip to forestall the moan which was inevitable.

Sully moved closer as the colour drained from the thin, old woman’s face. Without hesitation, he stooped down and lifted her into his arms, rising to his feet with little difficulty.

Taken by surprise Bess flung her arms around his neck and clung to him as he began to walk surely back towards the confectionary. "Where are you taking me?" she squeaked, as he paused long enough for Michaela to pull the door open.

"We’re just joinin’ our friends for some ice-cream," replied Sully with a chuckle, as he bore her inside. "Thought ya might like to visit with us," he added persuasively. He carefully placed her on a bench beside Myra’s push-chair and stood back as Michaela squatted before the woman and began to gently tend to her sore and bleeding knees.

An anxious shop assistant immediately appeared at their table. "Is there anythin’ I can do … or get ya?" he asked.

Michaela looked up at him and, with a familiar smile, said, "Sean, I’ll need a small bowl of warm water and then I’ll have my usual order … oh … and a lemonade for …..?" She turned back to look questioningly into Bess’s watery, hazel eyes.

In turn, Bess eyed her warily. "Its Bess," she said curtly. "And I’ll not be accepting charity." She looked up at young Sean. "I’ll not be needing anything thank-you."

Michaela immediately addressed her, "Well *Bess*, the lemonade is not charity. As your doctor I’m prescribing it for medicinal purposes … I don’t want you going into shock after your fall … a sweet, cool drink is just what you need."

Bess regarded her with misgiving. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up to her, or caring whether she was well or not. Her eyes flew around the table, seeing Myra’s smile, Horace’s reassuring nod and Samantha’s shy grin as she sipped on her lemonade, which did indeed look delicious. It wouldn’t hurt to have just one, a cool drink sounded very welcome. She gave Michaela and then Sean an almost imperceptible nod.

"Good," said Michaela. "Now let’s see what I can do for these sore knees."

While Sully lit the lamps in their hotel room, Michaela struggled with the row of small buttons down the back of her green gown. She sighed in exasperation. This was one aspect of pregnancy she hated - feeling bloated, awkward and at times helpless. Sully turned from the last lamp to see his wife’s agitation, her face red and her shoulders hunched. "Here let me help ya," he offered immediately. "Ya only haveta ask." He walked across the room to stand behind her, easily manipulating the small buttons through their loops.

"I know," she replied. "But I don’t like relying on you for everything."

"Kinda like Bess today huh?" remarked Sully, with a half-smile.

"What do you mean?" asked Michaela, disconcerted by this analogy.

"She didn’t like us helpin’ her today ….. I guess she aint used to it …. Used to doin’ for herself I reckon," mused Sully. "Kinda reminded me of you an’ me … back when we first met."

Michaela spun around to face him, her brow creased in puzzlement. "Us?" she asked. "Why? …. Neither of us was ever like Bess today …………. were we?"

"I don’ mean that we were surly like Bess …. But we sure didn’ like other folks doin’ for us. I seem to remember a time out in the woods when you said as much."

Michaela blushed and her eyes dropped to the floor.

Sully continued. "Seems to me that we’d both bin alone so long ….. trying to git somewhere in our lives … doin’ for ourselves ….. just like Bess, that we were scared to let anyone else in ….. well *I* was anyway."

"I know what you mean," murmured Michaela. "Letting someone in means that things might change …. and that can be frightening." She looked up into his loving eyes. "But I’m glad I overcame my fear," she said softly.

"Uh huh, me too," replied Sully, quietly but vehemently. He pulled her into his embrace. After a moment he inquired in a low tone, "Speaking of back then ….. ya didn’t tell me the story ‘bout the rockin’ horse I made …. What ya did with it."

Michaela’s fading blush suddenly deepened and she pulled away from him, ostensibly to step out of her dress and hang it in the large cedar closet. Keeping her back to him she moved across to the dresser and withdrew her nightgown, slipped off the remainder of her clothing and pulled the soft, white cotton gown over her head.

Sully regarded her in consternation. "Michaela?"

She continued her nightly routine, removing the pins from her hair until it tumbled down in copper waves over her shoulders and then rhythmically pulling the hairbrush through it, perhaps a little more fiercely than usual.

Sully walked over to where she sat by the mirror and squatted down in front of her. When she continued the steady brushing he reached out and stilled her hand. "Michaela?" he said again. "Why won’t ya tell me?"

Michaela shrugged her shoulders and dropped her wary eyes to the brush resting on his knee. She said in a voice he could barely hear, "Maybe I don’t think you’ll understand." She rose to her feet, sidestepped him, walked to the bed and crawled in under the covers.

Sully stood and observed her lying tense on her side of the bed. "You could give me a try …. We always said we shouldn’ keep any secrets from one another …."

Michaela was torn and it showed in her face, her eyes. Abruptly she nodded and then turned back the bedclothes beside her.

Sully quickly divested himself of his clothes and then extinguished the lamps he had so recently lit, leaving just the one on the nightstand still aglow. As he climbed into bed beside her, she whispered, "That one too please …. Do you mind?" Sully’s answer was to immediately lift the glass and blow the flame out, leaving the room in darkness, save for the very faint glow of the street lamps and the new moon, shining through the lace curtains at the window. He slid down and then pulled her into his arms so that she lay on her side, the swell of her stomach resting against his hip and her head nestled into the familiar hollow of his shoulder. She began to unconsciously move her fingers caressingly through the soft hair on his chest. They lay like that for some moments until into the silence Michaela asked, "Do you remember when it was?"

Sully shook his head.

"It was just before Halloween …. my second in Colorado Springs … but my first with the children. You’d stayed for supper … and when you were leaving … you kissed me goodnight … and the shelf above the dresser fell down."

There was a long silence while both recalled the scene. Then Michaela continued. "Do you believe in ghosts Sully?"

"The Cheyenne say that if you see something, then you believe … that’s its true."

"But what do *you* think?"

"I saw the white buffalo - Running Ghost," he responded in a low, almost reverent tone.

Michaela nodded. She seemed to be trying to decide how best to put her explanation into words. She took a deep breath and spoke softly. "I’d been in Colorado Springs only a year and it was around then that I started to realise ….. or actually acknowledge …. what you’d already come to mean to me. … that you were more than just a friend …. that I was falling in love with you …. and maybe you felt the same. I was so frightened. You were so different to David … and so were my feelings for you. It worried me when I started to look forward to your coming to the homestead …. staying to supper …. that I was constantly waiting for you … and my heart leapt when you came and sank when you didn’t." She paused as Sully drew her close and kissed her forehead. "And then I started to think about what it would mean if we were to tell each other what we felt ….." Her voice dropped. "And what might be expected of me …… I …. I didn’t know how to be with you. When you arrived the next morning and said that you were going to do some work on the homestead …. make some improvements …. all I could think of was Abagail …."

"Abagail!!"

"Mmmm... I knew that you’d loved her …. very much ….. otherwise you wouldn’t have been so devastated …. left the homestead like you did ….. after she ….. And all I could think about was how different Abagail and I were …. I loved you so …. but I was frightened …… I asked Loren what she was like …. and he told me about this wonderful young person …. ladylike and good natured …. elegant …… so different from me …… and I wondered how you could love me after her. You’d built the homestead for her …. the way *she* wanted ….. and I felt like an interloper. Maybe I was looking for excuses to quash my feelings for you …. I don’t know ….. but I do know that I was so very confused."

Again Sully hugged her close and then began to run his fingers lovingly through the hair around her flushed face.

Michaela took a deep breath and whispered. "I saw her …"

Sully’s fingers stilled and he too took a deep breath.

Michaela continued. "Or I believed I did. ….. late at night …. at the homestead … more than once …. I didn’t know what to think. But I did know that I loved you, and visiting with Abagail strengthened that, rather than weakened it. She was gone … but I was very much alive …. and I wanted ….. I found the rocking horse in the barn ….the one you’d been making for Hanna. I don’t really know why I asked …. but I needed you to finish it …."

Sully could feel her breath on his skin and the rapid beating of her heart against his chest.

Michaela raised herself up a little so that when she next spoke her breath was warm on his neck. She murmured tearfully, "I was so frightened that you would compare me to Abagail and that I’d be found wanting. I was frightened at the feelings you stirred in me …" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Not just in my mind ….. but in *me*. I’d never felt like that before ….. Sometimes I just wanted you to wrap me in your arms and hold onto me … never let me go ….. but there was always the fear that I wouldn’t be able to …. to ….. please you."

In all the years he had known her, she had never spoken so honestly … so openly. Sully was moved …. and aroused. She had stirred feelings in him that were overwhelming. He tilted his head to capture her mouth in a kiss which was at once hungry and urgent. She moaned, responding enthusiastically to his need. He rolled onto his side so that they lay face to face, touching along their length, his gentle hand gradually bunching her nightgown up over her stomach, and as the energy sapping kiss ended he whispered against her lips, "You didn’t ever haveta feel like that ….. I love you for bein’ you …. Not as some replacement for Abagail. I never compared the two of you …. there was no need, no reason ….."

"I know," she responded. "Now ….. But back then I was so confused ….. I worried about it right up until our honeymoon …."

"And then?" he prompted.

"And then you made me feel as if it was your first time too …. I was so na�ve and you were so loving …" She leant across to kiss him adoringly on each corner of his mouth, teasing kisses moving gradually inwards.

His breathing quickening, he adjured softly, "It *was* my first time …. with you ….." He rolled onto his back bringing her up to straddle him. His hands began to touch her, lovingly exploring each warm curve and valley until a light sheen appeared on her skin and her breath was coming in rapid sighs. He moaned, "Michaela …. please …."

Their coupling was urgent and all-consuming, leaving them both blissfully sated and extremely drowsy. As Michaela finally nestled beside him she murmured, "I’d like to check on Bess tomorrow … It’ll be our last chance before we go home on Thursday."

Sully nodded his agreement and stroked her cheek tenderly with his thumb. She sighed with pleasure at his touch, thrust her arm out across his chest, settling her hand against his ribs, and drifted off to sleep.